.

for it. Especially when Sinclair had told her that Eva and her fiancé were counseling at their own church—the church both of their families had attended when they were teens.

      Pressing on her stomach to quell the rush of memories, Hope drew in a deep breath and then reached out her hands. “Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, nice to see you.”

      Sinclair’s diminutive mom enveloped her in a warm hug instead. “You look wonderful, Hope. How are you?”

      Hope didn’t meet Rose’s direct gaze. The woman could see right through a person, and Hope didn’t want to be read like an open book. “Good, thanks. And you both?”

      “Retirement agrees with us, right, Bob?” Rose elbowed her husband.

      “Sure does.”

      “But you’re here for the summer, right?” Hope remembered how Rose used to invite her to stay for dinner, along with Sara. Sara had often raved about how the Marsh family had been tight. Were they still?

      “Yep, helping Eva and Adam with the orchard. By the way, we’re having a party—”

      “Hey, Mom,” Sinclair interrupted with a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “We’re about to get started.”

      “So these are your parents?” Mary Stillwell moved in. “You must be so proud. Sinclair, you have to introduce them to the church body.”

      “Ah, yeah. Mom, Dad, this is Mary Stillwell.”

      “My husband, Chuck, is on the board.”

      “We’ve met before. Stillwell is one of the largest commercial growers in the county,” Bob Marsh said. “How’d he fare the storm a couple weeks back?”

      Mary gave an awkward laugh like she didn’t dare give any information away to a competing grower. “Time will tell, right?”

      Hope noticed that Sinclair looked flustered when Chuck joined the circle and started talking cherries with his dad. Marsh Orchards had never been close in scale to Stillwell Farms, but Bob Marsh still wore his pride openly. He bragged about the big plans his future son-in-law had for their orchard.

      “I better get us back on track,” Sinclair whispered close to Hope’s ear, and briefly caressed her arm.

      His touch made her shiver. She caught Rose Marsh’s eye, and Hope’s heart sank when she saw the woman’s smile grow a little wider.

      Sinclair’s voice came over the microphone, calling the parishioners back to their seats. “It’s nice to know I’m in a church where greeting time turns into full-blown fellowship. I can’t wait to see what the potlucks are like.”

      Hope sat down amid the good-natured murmurs and laughs. The church hadn’t had a potluck in months, so hearing Sinclair mention looking forward to one might as well have been an invitation to schedule one. No doubt Mrs. Larson was already thumbing through her calendar to pick a date. And Hope would get a call from her tomorrow, prodding her to make plans.

      Hope’s fingers gripped the edge of her pew as Sinclair took the podium. Why did it matter so much how well he did this morning? He looked natural and composed, except for the tightness of his jaw as he introduced his parents. And then he joked about keeping this message clean, and Hope felt her tension ease.

      Then Sinclair prayed, and she noticed something different about him. His stance seemed firmer and his shoulders a little broader as he opened up his Bible and straightened his notes. There was a gleam in his eye as Sinclair boldly read a passage from chapter three in Philippians. He didn’t read with the carefree charm she’d expected. Sinclair spoke with confidence about forgetting the past and looking forward to the future by trusting God.

      His deep voice rang out with conviction. Hearing him speak with such fire made her skin prickle into goose bumps. And yet there was humbleness in him, too, like the day he’d approached her parents. She’d seen a peek of that then.

      He talked about how God had changed him. He admitted that he’d made mistakes and didn’t have all the answers. He advised everyone to put their trust in God, because Sinclair would most likely let them down.

      When he looked directly at her, Hope had to swallow the lump of emotion that rose in her throat. His eyes blazed with contrition, and Hope couldn’t look away.

      When Sinclair moved on to reference the next scripture verse, Hope looked around the sanctuary. The congregation was transfixed, held captive by words spoken with truth. Words that closed with an invitation to those who wanted to put their trust in the Lord to come forward.

      A couple of people answered the altar call, and Hope felt a wash of pride for her new pastor. If anyone could rally this church body around a building project, it was Sinclair. She could see that now. If only she could be sure which project he’d get behind.

      After the service concluded, several people rushed to the platform in order to shake Sinclair’s hand. That was as good a sign as any that their new pastor had been officially accepted.

      Hope made for the exit with her insides twisted into a ball of old and new feelings. She was proud of Sinclair, but something else swirled inside her heart that was too dangerous to name and too scary to let loose.

      Walking outside into the warm sunshine, she sorted out those disturbing emotions concerning her boss, pastor and longtime friend. He’d let her down so many times. But then she’d had unrealistic expectations of him. Dreams.

      Hope boxed up those dreams and put them away like she’d done a hundred times before. Tamping her feelings down deep, she refused to care for Sinclair all over again.

      Not looking where she was going, Hope bumped right into Rose Marsh. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.”

      Rose smiled and then pushed a small envelope into her hand. “Please come.”

      It looked like an invitation. Hope tipped her head.

      “Eva and Adam’s engagement party. Eva would love to see you.”

      “Oh, I don’t know...” Hope searched for an excuse but came up short. She couldn’t find the words to refuse. Wasn’t sure she wanted to.

      “Don’t worry about Sinclair. Don’t worry about calling to RSVP. Just come.” Rose patted her hand and left.

      Hope stood in the parking lot, staring at the envelope. If Sinclair had truly changed, seeing him with his family would prove it.

      After tearing open the seal, Hope read the date and sucked in a breath.

      Saturday night at Marsh Orchards.

      This Saturday would have been Sara’s twenty-fifth birthday. They couldn’t have known when they had scheduled the party. Ryan might not have even remembered. If he had, she couldn’t imagine him saying anything about it to dampen his sister’s joy.

      Hope had run into Ryan a few times in town, and every time she’d seen him, he’d looked lost. She supposed they all were, to an extent.

      How could she go and not break her parents’ hearts? Yet watching them try not to fall apart wasn’t something she wanted to do. She couldn’t face another year staying home to grieve. Her sister would never want that kind of morose tribute.

      Hope looked back and spotted Sinclair talking to several people on the steps outside the sanctuary. He met her gaze and cocked his head, almost as if he could see the struggle inside her.

      She gave him a quick wave and headed for her car. In the driver’s seat, she fingered the invitation with its pretty pink parchment paper and fancy lettering promising a happy occasion. She wanted to accept that promise, but at what price?

      Stuffing the invitation back in the envelope, Hope started her car and headed out of the parking lot with a whispered prayer for direction. She knew from experience that following your heart wasn’t always the best decision.

      She shouldn’t go. Plain and simple.

      But she had six days to decide