“Do you think it was a woman?” Nelly asked. She for some reason just thought it probably was a woman. Even though the person that she had left the note for last night—she knew that was a man. Knew it just the way she knew that the sun was in the sky, even though she couldn’t see it. But it just seemed like the Secret Saint would be a woman’s idea.
“I always thought it was a man. Sometimes the packages were pretty heavy, and I guess I just see men being able to sneak around in the middle of the night better than women anyway. It could be dangerous for a woman to be out in the middle of the night.”
“Not in Mistletoe Meadows. It’s totally safe here.”
“True,” Gram said. “Although you never know.”
She supposed that was true. Bad things could happen to someone anywhere, and it didn’t have to necessarily be a bad person—it could just be stumbling on a bear who was wandering around town, especially one with cubs or something. Or maybe accidentally waking up someone’s dog.
“I just always thought it was a really nice thing to do. When you think about community service and helping others, usually you think about joining an organization and throwing some money at them or donating a few things out of your pantry or your closet. You don’t really think about doing things yourself.” She paused for a moment. “You know how much you have to look outside of yourself in order to see the needs that are around you to be a Secret Saint?”
Boy, did she ever. She hadn’t paid such close attention to people in her entire life. She really did have to not only listen to conversations but keep her eyes open for things that people mightneed. And then try to figure out what exactly would make them happy. She didn’t want to give things just for the sake of giving them. She wanted to give things that were necessary, and wanted, and would be used. Otherwise, it was just a waste of time and money, wasn’t it?
“Yeah. You really have to focus on others.”
“And that’s why this type of thing is so good. Most of the time, we can kind of just skate along, doing the least amount possible, pretending to invest ourselves, when we’re really not invested at all. We’re just doing what we think is a good deed, we pat ourselves on the back, and then we go back to thinking about ourselves and our family and focusing on me, me, me all the time. It’s not really truly investing in others the way being a Secret Saint is.”
Now that Nelly had done it, she couldn’t agree more.
“That is the kind of interest that keeps the community together. That is the kind of interest that Christians should show to especially other Christians but to the whole world. It’s the kind of interest that Jesus has in us.”
“And we’re supposed to be like Jesus,” she said.
“Exactly. We are supposed to be like Jesus.”
They had moved into the kitchen by that time and almost had dinner prepped and ready to place on the table.
“You know, I hope you don’t get so involved in your work that you don’t keep an eye out for that special someone. God has someone for you.” Her grandma seemed to be bringing that conversation up from out of nowhere.
Nelly was so shocked she couldn’t say anything for a moment, and then she said, “If God brings me a lifetime partner, I will stop the Secret Saint and focus on him, because I do think that’s what God wants us to do. To put our family first. After all, it’s a lot more rewarding from a fleshly standpoint to help a whole pile of people who are appreciative than it is to just be there for your family.” She knew it would feel more rewarding for her to go to her classroom than it would be for her to sit at home all day and watch her gram.Although, if she didn’t have to make money in order to continue with everything that she was doing, she might have considered it. She actually had considered taking a sabbatical year. But… She didn’t know where her grandma would be in a year. Maybe her grandma would need her more next year than she would this coming year.
“Trust me, I am not going to close my heart or my mind to anyone that God puts in my path.” But she did want to make sure that it was the right one. She had a couple of false alarms earlier in her twenties, and she didn’t want to get emotionally involved with someone who wasn’t living for the Lord and wanting to put Him first. She had almost made a bad decision at one point, and that was definitely something that she had learned from that failed relationship. God came first.
“Sometimes love grows in unexpected places,” her gram said, smiling as she turned to get milk out of the refrigerator.
Well, the Secret Saint would certainly be an unexpected place. But she didn’t know anything at all about the Secret Saint that she was working with, other than he was tall, had working man’s hands, and seemed to be good at working with them.
Still, she tucked that idea away to think about. And she couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up. She might actually be meeting him again. She wouldn’t mind having a helper. Or a coworker, more likely, since he wouldn’t consider her his helper any more than she would consider him hers.
She couldn’t wait until midnight tonight.
Chapter Ten
Roland walked slowly through town, staying in the shadows, keeping his eye on the gazebo in the park right in the middle of the town square.
There was no traffic, no one on the sidewalks, but he still avoided them to stay out of the light. He had been watching for the last thirty minutes, since 11:30, changing his vantage point every so often to make it less likely that someone could sneak up on him.
This was not exactly his forte. He wasn’t that great at sneaking around. He was better at joking around, being a goofball, having fun with his nieces and nephews, and then sending them home to their parents while he ate junk food and relaxed.
Regardless, he did want to be careful. And he’d come to the conclusion that the other Secret Saint had invited him, so if they wanted him to show up, they were going to have to show up first. That was the burden when one was the person issuing the invitation. If they showed up, he would too.
It was five till twelve when he noticed movement in the shadow over by the fountain. It was not far from the gazebo, and he wished that he were somehow over on the other side, because he would beable to see better. Instead of moving, though, he froze, hoping his dark clothing allowed him to blend into the shadows while he watched one shadow detach itself from the others and move fluidly toward the gazebo. Long cape, deep hood, small stature.
It was the same woman he had worked with before. He was almost positive.
She stopped at the gazebo and then walked in, standing along the side so that anyone looking toward the town square would not notice an extra shadow on the inside of the gazebo.
If he hadn’t known she was there, he wouldn’t realize she was. She was good at hiding. He wondered if that was something she had practiced, or if it was just a natural thing.
