Hosea's Bride. Dorothy Clark

his hand. Everyone quieted and looked at their partner.

      “Ready…set…Go!”

      Two dozen multicolored balloons wobbled through the air.

      Angela caught the blue one Hosea threw to her, instinctively drawing her hands down and backward to ease the contact.

      There was a sharp squeal to Leigh’s left. Another farther down the line.

      Cold water spattered Angela’s sun-warmed legs as a balloon burst on the ground beside her. She jumped.

      “Sorry, Angela, you got more of that than I did.” Sandra Collins laughed and trotted off the field with the other women whose balloons had broken.

      The whistle blew. The remaining players took a step back.

      Angela judged the new distance and threw the balloon to Hosea. Water splashed everywhere as wildly thrown balloons broke and spewed their contents on whoever happened to be in the way.

      Hosea caught hers, then burst into laughter as another smacked against his shoulder and sprayed him with water. He held the dripping remnant of the wayward balloon out to Lou Harris. “I believe this belongs to you, sir?”

      Lou accepted it with a bow.

      The crowd laughed.

      The whistle blew.

      Angela stepped back. Hosea looked at her over the widening space. Thank goodness they were moving farther apart. She felt naked without the baseball cap. Lord, don’t let him remember. Please—

      Whap!

      Angela gasped as the blue balloon broke against her abdomen and cold water soaked through her cotton shirt and khaki shorts. Idiot! You closed your eyes. She shook her head at her foolishness, and tugged her wet shirt out away from her body. “Woo-hoo! Only three more to go and we win, Phil!” Leigh looked over at her friend and grinned. “Sorry, Angela.”

      Angela laughed. “Yeah, I can tell.” She dropped back out of harm’s way and trotted off the field as the whistle sounded again.

      Hosea Stevens met her at the edge of the crowd.

      She sucked in a breath and pasted a smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Pastor. I cost you a half bag of balloons.”

      He grinned down at her. “I think I can manage to live through the disappointment.” His gaze sought hers. “I’m sorry about the soaking.”

      Angela turned away to look back at the field. “My fault entirely.” There was a sudden burst of applause. “Besides, it seems to have worked out well for Leigh and Phil.” She gave him a quick glance. “Excuse me, I have to go congratulate them.”

      Relieved at the excuse to leave his company, she trotted off to join her friends.

      Angela stared at the computer screen. She’d been so eager to check the information on Hosea “Slider” Stevens, she hadn’t even changed out of her picnic clothes, and she’d found nothing questionable. She checked her files, her sources of information again. There was nothing. No illness, injury or family problems. No breath of scandal or unexplained absences for any block of time. All she could find confirmed Hosea’s statement. He had simply walked away from the millions of dollars offered him to play professional ball. And that included a signing bonus in a previously unheard of amount for a rookie.

      She shook her head and scanned the copy of the newspaper reports again. There was nothing else to check. Nowhere else to go for information. What he had said was true. But, how could it be? She must have missed something. Men weren’t like that.

      Angela closed her eyes, rubbed her temples and rotated her neck. Maybe she was just tired. It had been a long day. She’d check things over again tomorrow. She turned off the computer, climbed the stairs and prepared for bed. The softness of the mattress felt lovely after the physical activity of the day. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

      “Thank you, Father, for the blessings of this day. Thank you for the lovely weather and the picnic….”

      An image of Hosea Stevens’s face implanted itself on Angela’s mind stopping her words. She popped her eyes open, flopped onto her back and frowned. The man was a torment to her. What was she to do?

      “What do You want from me, Lord? What are You after? Why did You bring him here?”

      There was no answer to her whispered words. Angela sighed, and turned on the light. The pleasant tiredness of the day was gone. There was only a restless confusion swirling through her brain.

      She grabbed her pillows, propped them against the head of the bed and reached for the book she’d left on her nightstand. Reading about the hair-raising adventures of the brooding, dark-haired, brown-eyed espionage agent would not only get her thoughts off her troubles, it would drive the image of the blond, blue-eyed, square-jawed Hosea Stevens out of her mind.

      Hosea flipped his baseball cap onto the shelf, laid his glove beside it and closed the closet door. It had been a fun day. And the church picnic had given him a valuable glimpse of the members of his new congregation in a relaxed setting. He was already learning their individual personalities and quirks. Like Leigh Roberts’s love of food. He grinned, stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket. The woman ate like a linebacker! How did she stay so thin? Angela Warren on the other hand—she’d merely picked at her food.

      Hosea shook his head. He’d tried six years ago to find out what happened to the young woman—if anyone had counseled her after her salvation experience. But when he’d called Pastor Barnes to find out, all the man could tell him was that Angela Warren had left the city. Now, here she was in his church. And judging from what he’d been told and the records he’d seen, she was a valuable, active member. Still, she seemed…uneasy? No. It was something more than that. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Did whatever it was have its roots in her past? “Lord, You know what’s wrong. Please give me wisdom to help Angela. Amen.”

      He stood waiting for a moment, but no answer came. “All right, Lord. In Your time.” He grabbed a pair of blue-checked boxer shorts from his dresser drawer and trotted to the shower.

      Chapter Three

      “Well, I think that covers everything.” Hosea flipped the cover of his note pad closed and smiled at the group of people seated around the long table in the conference room adjacent to his office. “Thanks to your prayers and talents, the missionary conference should flow smoothly from beginning to end. And that leaves only one thing I want to say.”

      He rose to his feet, placed his hands on the table and leaned forward as he glanced from person to person. The fear that had tortured her these last few weeks gripped Angela anew when his gaze met hers. She looked away. Had he remembered now? Was he going to tell them about her?

      “Sometimes words are inadequate—even for a pastor.”

      Everyone laughed, but Angela’s stomach tightened.

      “This is one of those times, because ‘thank you’ does not begin to express my gratitude for your warm welcome, your openhearted acceptance of me as your pastor, and your understanding and thoughtfulness. It has been your readiness to help me settle in and become acclimated to a new home and church that has made these last few weeks such a smooth and painless transition period. I can’t thank you enough. But I can pray for you.”

      Out of the corner of her eye Angela saw him straighten and start around the table. He briefly rested his hands on the shoulders of each person as he prayed.

      “Father God in heaven, I pray Your richest blessings upon these, Your children. In Your great love and unending mercy, may You meet their every need, withholding no good gift, but extending healing, deliverance, peace, prosperity, and the greatest gift of all, which is the joy of Your presence in their lives. All this I ask in the matchless name of Your Son, Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.”

      The meeting was over. She could escape. Under cover of the general stirring and amiable