A Wedding on Lilac Lane Hope Ramsay (general ebook reader TXT) 📖

continue to pretend it hadn’t happened? If only her conscience (or maybe her somewhat starved libido) could do the same.

Ella pushed through the doors that led into the church’s vestibule. The sanctuary was to the left, and the meeting rooms, Sunday school, and day care center were to the right. Grace Methodist was by far the biggest church in town. Its facilities dwarfed Heavenly Rest.

The air-conditioned foyer made her damp dress feel clammy against her skin. She paced and tried to stay warm while she considered several rehearsed apologies. She had to apologize, right? The kiss had been totally out of bounds. And she needed to let it go in order to become her best self. She paced and fretted until she could almost hear the blood rushing through her veins.

But all the rehearsed words left her brain when Dylan came striding up the walkway five minutes later. And when their gazes locked, her runaway pulse also settled back into her chest as if he’d reached out and told her heart to calm down. And it struck her: apologizing to him wouldn’t be that hard at all.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had to make a phone call to a patient that took longer than I thought it would.”

“No worries,” she said, then lost her nerve. Maybe she didn’t need to apologize at all.  Maybe she should wait for him to bring up Saturday night.

But he didn’t, which was disappointing on some level even though it provided her an escape hatch from her own bad behavior.

“So, let’s go talk to the church secretary,” he said, turning and striding down the hallway like a man with a purpose. He’d probably been attending services here since he was a little kid, so he knew his way around. Heck, he’d probably been an altar boy here. She could imagine a younger version of him, maybe with freckles across his nose and a wayward curl falling over his forehead, wearing robes and lighting altar candles. He’d probably been a model child, a Boy Scout who helped little old ladies across the street. And now he was Doctor Dependable. He might have been five minutes late, but he’d had an excellent excuse. He’d been taking care of someone.

Damn. When had her opinion of him altered so dramatically? She couldn’t quite say for sure, but maybe it had been that moment last Saturday when he’d come after her and let her cry on his shoulder.

Cody would never have done a thing like that.

The unwanted comparison startled her. She pushed it away firmly and followed him into the church office, which was empty.

“Mrs. Walsh?” Dylan called out.

A second later, Rev. Pasidena came through the door. “Hey, Dylan. I’m afraid Mrs. Walsh had a family emergency. Her momma is in the hospital, so I’m covering for her. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. You know Ella McMillan?”

“No, but I certainly know your mom,” the minister said, offering his hand.

Rev. Pasidena had a strong grip, a ready smile, and a shiny bald head. He winked at her as he let go of her hand. “In fact,” he said, “I’m trying to woo your momma away from Heavenly Rest.”

Something about the way he said the words annoyed Ella. Was Jim trying to convince Mom to switch churches? Probably.

“Come on, I’ll give y’all a tour of the reception facilities.” The minister led them down the hall to a room big enough to accommodate a wedding reception or an engagement party. The room had no windows, a utilitarian floor, and dark paneling. Even worse, the place reeked of scorched coffee and old doughnuts.  No doubt about it, this was where the Methodists held their fellowship hours.

“Y’all should know that it’s our busy season coming up,” Rev. Pasidena said. “Lots of May and June weddings. Dylan, I mentioned this to your daddy on Sunday. Jim went ahead and booked the room for April sixteenth, which is a Friday. It was the only time we had available.”

“April sixteenth?” Ella said. “That’s less than three weeks away, and—” She stopped speaking before she said something unkind about Jim or the minister. If she made the wrong move, Jim would hear about it from Dylan, and then Mom would hear about it from Jim. And then…

“Well, I’m glad he jumped on the date,” Dylan said.

Forget everything nice she’d been thinking about Dylan Killough. He and his father were ganging up on her and Mom in a subtle power play.

“Great,” Rev. Pasidena said. “Y’all can give Mrs. Walsh a call to work out the details. Have you picked a caterer? If you haven’t, we have a list.”

“We’re thinking about having Annie Robinson do it,” Dylan said.

The minister nodded. “A good choice. She’s done a lot of receptions and parties here.”

As they left the room and strolled down the hallway, the minister cleared his throat and said, “You know, Ella, we would love to make a home for you and your mother here.”

Ella clamped her mouth shut on a bunch of words that didn’t need to be said out loud. After last Sunday, she wasn’t going to leave Heavenly Rest. She liked Rev. St. Pierre’s sermons because they made a person think and provided a road map for self-improvement—something she needed in her life right at the moment. Rev. Pasidena was undoubtedly a good clergyman, but Granny would never go over to the Methodists, and Mom would never walk away from the choir she’d just formed.

“And you know,” the minister continued, oblivious to Ella’s unspoken annoyance, “our choir director, Simon Paredes, has had to retire. He had a stroke a few months back, and while he’s made a good recovery, he doesn’t need the stress of the choir. We have thirty members in our choir, you know. And many of them have recommended your mother as a replacement for Simon. They know her from last Christmas, when she stepped up to direct the Christmas Chorale when Simon couldn’t do it.”

Ella couldn’t let this pass without some pushback. She