Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [26]
“Oh, my,” Mercy mumbled.
Shirley mulled over the situation, tapping her fingers against the top of the railing, her thoughts moving in several different directions at once.
“Furthermore,” Goodness added seriously, “he’s egotistical, chauvinistic, and he hasn’t darkened the door of a church in more than ten years. The last time he prayed he was in his early teens.”
“He doesn’t sound like the man for Monica,” Mercy agreed.
Shirley hesitated, then decided she might as well speak her mind. “I don’t think we should be so hasty here. Isn’t your mission to teach Monica to be more flexible and accepting of others? From what I understand she’s caught in a trap of following a list of rules and regulations.”
“Yes, but any lessons I have to teach her don’t include Chet.”
Shirley wasn’t convinced of that. “From what you’ve told me, she views everything as black and white, with little room for compromise.”
“True,” Goodness was willing to admit, “but don’t you see? The two are completely incompatible. Gabriel wanted me to get her feet wet, not throw her off the Freemont Bridge.”
“All I can suggest is that you be patient with Monica.”
“One thing’s in my favor,” Goodness said, sounding encouraged. “They aren’t likely to meet again.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Mercy said, slipping onto the bench in front of the massive organ.
“Mercy,” Shirley warned, knowing her friend well enough to recognize the movement was anything but casual. The organ was too big a challenge to ignore.
“Don’t worry,” Mercy reassured her, “I’m going to be good.”
Shirley wasn’t the least bit convinced, and she was right. As she winged her way out of the church and back to her charge, a blast of organ music crescendoed into the night. Groaning aloud, Shirley recognized the opening bars from Phantom of the Opera and knew exactly where they’d come from.
“Dinner was lovely,” Jody said, slipping out of the rich velvet booth in the luxurious downtown restaurant. Glen had been a wonderful dinner companion. Although Jody had been nervous when he’d come to pick her up at the house, he’d quickly put her at ease.
“It’s still early,” Glen was saying as he helped her on with her full-length wool coat. “I can take you back to the house, if you want, but I was hoping you’d consider taking a ferry ride with me.”
It had been a year or more since Jody had last been on any of the Washington State ferries. After she’d received the word of Jeff’s death, she’d come down to the waterfront often. She found a peace, a solace here that escaped her otherwise. On more than one occasion she’d whiled away an hour or more riding the ferry, standing on the deck facing the wind, letting it batter her. She’d close her eyes and pretend Jeff was with her. She’d breathe in the scent of sea and salt while the birds screeched overhead. Each time she came away rejuvenated.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, reluctant for reasons she didn’t care to explain. The ferry ride had been her own private haven, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to share this.
“Anywhere you like. The Bainbridge run is a half hour each way. We could get a caffé latte and look at the city lights. The Bremerton run is an hour each way.”
“All right,” Jody surprised herself by saying. It was easy to be with Glen. He was friendly and undemanding, allowing her to set the course of their evening, deciding even if there was to be a relationship. Jody found the lack of pressure necessary and reassuring.
He kept his hand at her elbow as they walked along the waterfront. The scent of Puget Sound mingled with that of fried fish from the take-out booths was in the crisp night air. The cold nipped at Jody’s cheeks and she buried her hands deep within the silk lining of her coat pockets.
“Here,” Glen said,