Loving Thy Neighbor. Ruth Scofield

with Bette again about the neighborhood yard sale—they’d already sketched out early plans. Call the newspapers about placing an ad. Make flyers to distribute. Talk to Mr. Bader to see if she could inspect the piano he offered her. And finish scraping and sanding her house.

      She’d spent the majority of her week handscraping four layers of old paint from three sides of her house; she had only one side left to complete. Laura promised to run her to the hardware store to buy paint. She’d already done a preliminary pricing by phone and knew just where to shop for the best bargain.

      “Quincee?” She heard Kyle from the open back door.

      The boy was another early riser. She often thought of the first hour of the day as their time, since they frequently discussed things that he was interested in without Kerri’s bid for her attention to interrupt them.

      “Out here, Kyle.”

      In turning to sit up, something caused her to glance over at the house next door. A flutter at the corner of her eye brought her attention to a second-story window. A bare-chested man appeared between the lace curtains, hair tousled and leaning on strong arms against the windowsill. She saw his chest expand and contract. Hamilton Adam Paxton, the Third, liked to greet the morning by breathing deeply in an open window, did he? Who could’ve guessed he’d be a fitness freak?

      Across the distance, he seemed to be watching her. How long had he been there? Flashing an emphatic grin, she gave a saucy wave.

      He disappeared behind the curtains, and his window slammed closed. Quincee folded her mouth, smothering a chuckle. Obviously, he wasn’t amused. Had she invaded his space? Had he lost his sense of privacy on this side of his house? Her house had been empty so long, he might think it.

      Kyle came out carrying a glass of juice and perched on the bench beside her.

      “Hi, tiger. It’s a beautiful morning,” she said. “How about if we begin our day with a nice walk after breakfast?”

      Several hours later, the three of them approached a large stone church building that had been a part of Independence since 1872. She’d called to find out the times of worship and found a map to tell her just how far they’d have to walk. A mile and six-tenths sounded just about the right amount to enjoy, she told the children. By the time they arrived, they’d welcome a chance to sit quietly and listen to God’s word.

      Quincee smoothed a hand over her long blue print skirt and ran an inspecting gaze over Kyle’s clean jeans and white open-neck dress shirt. His short hair lay close to his head, and his face appeared shiny clean.

      Kerri looked fetching in the yellow sundress Quincee had hurriedly dug out from the bottom of a drawer for the child to wear. A simple white knit T-shirt under the printed straps dressed it up a bit.

      Actually, the dress was too short for the child, but Quincee hadn’t had time to buy any new clothes for the children.

      Who was she kidding? She hadn’t had any extra money to buy new clothes for any of them. Well, the old sewing machine would have to come out of storage, she decided. Attaching a ruffle onto the dress’s hem would solve that problem, and she could do some other long-needed mending while she was at it.

      They climbed the concrete steps to the huge open front doors.

      An older man, graying and with a limp, greeted them at the door with a handshake for her and a word for the children. “Good morning there, folks. How are you this fine morning? Welcome to God’s house, young man. And young missy. Nice of you to join us. Go right on in and find a place to sit. There’s an empty spot about halfway down this morning.”

      Another greeter welcomed them inside the foyer and handed Quincee a program.

      The church sanctuary, already about three-quarters full, was filling quickly. Quincee guided the children toward the center as directed. They slid into a pew. Surprisingly, Kerri was subdued enough to remain silent as she busily looked around her. Kyle asked whispered questions about who the people on the stage might be and excitedly pointed out that several had instruments. Were they going to play?

      Before she could answer, a tap on her shoulder caused Quincee to glance backward. Bette and Gene Longacre sat just behind them.

      “Why, hello there, Quincee,” Bette greeted with a smiling welcome. “And Kyle and Kerri.”

      Gene nodded at the children, murmuring, “How spiffy you look this morning.”

      Quincee felt warmed and unexpectedly at home.

      “So nice to have you here to worship with us this morning,” Bette said. “Oh, Quincee. I have three other people who are eager to join the yard sale. One lives a block down, and she said she’d be glad to help set up such an event, and they all love your idea of barter. Can we get together tomorrow?”

      Bette ended on a whisper as the musicians began the opening song.

      “Oh, sure,” Quincee returned, also whispering. “Certainly.”

      She then riveted her attention on the opening of the worship service, silently praying to have a listening heart.

      They all rose to join the first lively song of joy and thanksgiving. The children, wide-eyed with curiosity, gazed around them when a family with several children squeezed into the pew on their other side. Kerri stretched to her toes trying to see the song leader.

      The morning went quickly. Quincee, drawn into the sermon of God’s redeeming love, of His promises, felt lifted and filled with more peace than she’d had in months. Since before her sister’s illness, she thought. She hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been to hear it again. Closing her eyes, she silently thanked God for leading her to this church this morning.

      Just before the close of the service, the minister announced a need to see the deacons for a few moments immediately following the service. He dismissed the congregation with the admonition, “Go home, go forth and share God’s love throughout the week, and love one another.”

      Quincee and the children joined the sudden crush in the aisle. People greeted each other, someone mentioning the Royals’ latest baseball score, another replying. A child begged to go swimming as soon as they returned home. Behind her, Bette repeated her promise to call tomorrow. Looking over her shoulder, Quincee responded with a nod.

      Someone pushed down the aisle against the tide, and Kerri suddenly called, “Hap. Hap, here we are.”

      Quincee’s head snapped around. Almost face-to-face, Hamilton stared at her, his eyes darkening in mild shock. A fleeting image of his earlier appearance in his window crossed her mind. Something told her he was thinking of that same moment. Heat rose in her cheeks. She felt trapped in the eddy of flowing humanity, while hung up in his gaze.

      He recovered more quickly than she and switched his attention to the children. Kerri had already grabbed his hand and looked at him adoringly. “I didn’t know you were at church, Hap.”

      Hearing the nickname, a portly man glanced at them curiously as he came out of a pew nearby, his gaze finally leveling on Hamilton. His mouth curved in what Quincee could only call a smirk. “Five minutes, Judge,” the man said, and shoved his way down the aisle.

      Irritation flickered across Hamilton’s face, but it was gone by the time he answered Kerri. “I didn’t know you were here, either, Kerri. Did you and Kyle find new friends at Bible class?”

      “We didn’t go to Bible class,” Kyle told him. “We just came to church.”

      “Come early enough for the children’s Bible study next week, children. You’d like it.” Then flashing Quincee a suspicious gaze, he asked, “How did you come today?”

      “We walked,” Kerri informed him with pride. “We walked a hundred blocks.”

      The crowd around them thinned. Hamilton glanced at the small knot of men gathering at the front, his expression indicating he was hoping for a quick exit. Quincee followed his gaze and noted the pastor watching them expectantly.