Threat of Darkness(71)

Even Grover and his wife are celebrating Valentine’s Day, Becca thought morosely. An unexpected image of Davis Latimer sitting across a candlelit table popped into her head and she felt her cheeks flush.

 Suddenly, of all the problems the meeting on Saturday would cause her, one inane thought struck her hardest. Even in February, eleven o’clock in the morning came with full daylight. He could not fail to see it. She put a hand to her wildly disobedient, silver-streaked hair and wondered if she had the courage to dye it. But what would Grandma say? Not to mention her parents and the other teachers and her students and…

 She wished with all her heart that she was sitting on a beach in Mexico.

 Well, in a Mexican hotel room, anyway. It doesn’t matter, anyway, she reminded herself. Not in the least. A man like Davis Latimer could never be interested in her.

 Bowing her head, she told first herself and then God just how stupid she was to worry about a foolish thing like a little gray in her hair when she somehow had to fight her way through the music of a popular Sunday worship service without throwing up on her sheet music. Provided, of course, that she didn’t die of mortification on a bright Saturday morning in the parking lot of Magnolia Christian Church at the intersection of Magnolia and Iris, beneath the pale blue gaze of the most handsome man she’d ever met.





TWO

The problem with living in a small town, Davis Latimer told himself as he waited inside his car on that cold Saturday morning after Valentine’s, was the lack of resources. Were he back in Kansas City, he would simply apply to the local seminary for a pianist for his fledgling pastorate, Magnolia Christian Church. The music majors there would jump at the chance to earn a few extra bucks plying the keyboard two or three times a week.

 But he was quite sure that none of them could come anywhere near what he had heard the night before last in the darkened sanctuary of the First Church of Eden, Oklahoma.

 He had thought at first that he must be listening to a recording, a piece of perfection engineered in a sound booth. The tonal purity, strength and fluid range of that rich soprano would be the envy of an operatic diva. And her playing! He had heard renowned concert pianists whose music had moved him less. Enraptured, he’d stood there in the darkness, imagining the musician—an ultimate artistic creature, she would be a ravishing beauty of inspirational power.

 But what had he found sitting there at that piano in a halo of light? A timid, slender waif of a woman who hid her gentle prettiness behind a pair of large glasses. Becca Inman couldn’t have looked more terrified if he and Pastor Waller had come out of the darkness with guns blazing instead of applauding. Davis had elected to take a less bluff approach with her than Grover, but he knew that he had bullied Becca into today’s meeting nonetheless.

 He had little experience with timorous women. The women of the Latimer family tended toward the headstrong, outspoken variety. He adored them all, including the twenty-one-year-old twins who had accompanied him to Eden for his first senior pastorate some six weeks ago. Caylie and Carlie had been of invaluable help to him, setting his house to rights, organizing the women’s activities, charming his congregants and providing the music for Sunday services. But both were due to leave shortly—Caylie was getting married and Carlie was off to the missions—leaving him in urgent need of a pianist.

 He knew that Becca Inman would fill that need perfectly, playing his grandmother’s lovely old baby grand with skill and passion. But first, however, he had to convince her to do it.

 Davis checked his watch, hunching his shoulders inside his black wool coat. Eleven o’clock. Where was she?

 Moments later, a battered minivan equipped with a wheelchair lift turned into the parking lot, swung a wide arc around his late-model sports coupe and came to a rocking halt in front of the cream brick facade of the sanctuary. Delighted to see Becca emerge from the vehicle, Davis sent up a quick prayer of thanks before getting out of his shiny black car to greet her.

 She was taller than he’d realized and looked as slender as a reed beneath that voluminous broomstick skirt with a matching plum-colored jacket worn over a simple white blouse. Her pale, glimmering hair had been partially tamed, the tiny corkscrews brushed ruthlessly into twin rolls clipped together at the back of her head, the ends spilling into a platinum and silver froth that covered her shoulder blades. Behind the lenses of her glasses, thick platinum lashes rimmed wide, almond-shaped eyes of a soft, greenish-gray.

 After one swift glance in his direction, she lifted a hand to the clasp at the nape of her neck.