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“So you’re more used to this weather than I am.” I held my hands in front of the heater vents to warm them, dreading getting out of the SUV.
“Stay where you are.”
Beau cut the engine, got out, and raced around to my door. “Come on, let’s hurry.” He put his arm around me, and we rushed inside. Once there, we removed our coats and hung them on the racks provided. Then, like the other people who came in after us had, we stomped our feet on the rubber mats to get as much snow off our boots as we could.
We held hands, walking up the four steps to another set of doors where two women stood, handing out programs.
“I’m Violet Hill. We’re so happy you’ve joined us this morning,” said the one closest to me.
“Thank you. I’m Samantha Marquez, and this is Beau Barrett.”
The older woman’s cheeks flushed when she looked at him. I knew the feeling. Beau was ridiculously good-looking, and actually, no one knew that more than he did.
“Have you recently moved here?” the other woman asked.
Beau said yes at the same time I said no. He cleared his throat. “What we mean is we’ll likely make this our home soon.”
I stopped myself from raising a brow. Later, though, Beau and I would have a talk about being presumptuous. On the other hand, I hadn’t been paying attention to see if his eye twitched, indicating he was fibbing. Maybe he had, just to be polite.
We walked through yet another set of double doors and into the main sanctuary. The church was small, perhaps only twenty rows deep, but it was beautiful. Beau led me to a pew almost directly in the middle, and we took a seat. I looked beyond him, and what I saw made me gasp. I quickly covered my mouth but pointed in a way no one could see me do it.
Beau turned his head, and while he didn’t gasp, I knew he was as shocked as I was.
There were ten sets of stained glass windows on either side, each bearing a name or names. On the two closest to where we sat, Mr. and Mrs. Manley Covert was etched on one. On the other was Mr. Manley Covert Jr.
Mr. Allen’s words from last night repeated in my head. While he had corrected himself, the first thing he’d said was that Manley was a meansonuvabitch. “The old man, not the kid,” he’d added. Was Manley Jr. the kid he was referring to? Had he passed away at a young age? The only photo we’d seen in the display case at the Roycroft was of him as an infant.
Something about seeing Cena’s name affected me in a way I couldn’t describe. It was almost as if I felt I belonged here.
I watched as Beau picked up one of the red hymnals from the pew. He opened it and nudged me. The inscription on the inside read, “Given as a gift to St. John’s Lutheran Church by Mrs. Cena Covert in honor of her late husband, Manley.”
My eyes scrunched when I looked up at him. He leaned forward. “I half expect that, any minute, she’ll come and sit beside us,” he whispered.
I nodded. I half expected it too.
I’d never attendeda service at a Lutheran church before, so I didn’t know if all were as traditional as this one, but it was lovely.
When it ended, Beau and I stood but remained in the pew where we’d sat. Several people stopped and greeted us, although I didn’t feel right asking about Cena. Apparently, Beau didn’t, either.
The last person who stopped to talk to us was Violet Hill, the woman who’d greeted us when we came inside. “We have coffee hour downstairs. We hope you’ll join us.”
I looked over at Beau.
“We’d be delighted,” he said. “By the way, do you happen to know the history behind the names etched on the windows?”
“I do.” She pointed to one on the opposite side of the church. “Walter and Marilyn Huber were my parents. They, like the others whose names you see, donated the money to pay for the windows.”
“When was that?” he asked.
“Around 1960, I believe.”
“Did your parents know the Coverts?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t recall ever meeting them, either. Then again, my husband served in the Air Force, and we moved around quite a lot when we were first married.”
“We understand Mrs. Covert recently passed. On Christmas Day, in fact,” said Beau.
Her eyes opened wide. “That must have been who the funeral was for several days ago.” She leaned forward and whispered. “According to Pastor Woodruff, no one was there.”
