Page 71 of In Every Chapter

Greyson’s smile was kind. “We’ve been together for almost six years. I’ve had time to study you, Mrs. Satterfield. I’m still learning you, and you’re my favourite subject.” And with those words, he ushered me inside.

Wait, he couldn’t just drop that and expect me to take it in stride. That was a swoony line worthy of a romance book, and he wanted me to be cool about it? But most of the congregation was already seated and Juliet was at the piano, waiting for Pastor John to announce the first hymn. We’d have to revisit this later.

The church had been remodeled since my earlier mental pictures but not enough to be unrecognizable. The floor-to-ceiling windows, vaulted ceiling, orangey-cream cushioned pews, and tan wood paneling with a glass block cross built into the wall behind the pulpit still remained the same.

The weight of a hundred eyes on us pricked my skin, and I almost pivoted on my heel to walk out. Instead, I straightened my shoulders and gripped Greyson’s hand. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Just led me to the back pew in the corner, which was the darkest, avoiding direct light, and farthest from the piano. I smiled my gratitude at him as I slipped into the pew first.

The Satterfield clan was scattered across the rows. Mama D caught my eye several seats up and beamed, Myles nodded, and Khia waved enthusiastically from beside Cal.

After the opening hymn, Pastor John opened up the floor for folks to pick a handful of favourites. The comforting old words rolled over my soul.

Once it was time for the sermon, I made every effort to listen, I promise, but the hum of the overhead lights, the heat pressing at my skin—thank you, broken air conditioning—and the rhythmic pulsing behind my eyes conspired against me. The only words I heard from Pastor John were Worship in the mystery. Praise in the mystery. Trust in the mystery. They curled around me like a cloud, giving my tired heart a place to land. God knew even when I’d forgotten. He knew no matter how lost I felt. Nothing about my topsy-turvy life was taking Him by surprise. My story wasn’t a mistake—it was still being written.

I could rest in the comfort of His knowing the mystery. But, Lord, it’d be fine by me if You wanted to share some of Your knowledge with me. Especially about Greyson. I’d like to remember again.

I sagged in the pew until my head rested against something warm and solid. I’ll rest for just a second. My eyes fluttered shut, and I was out.

Chapter thirty

Greyson

“Pais?” I nudged her gently after the last notes of the closing hymn died away.

She moaned and snuggled deeper into my side. The unconscious affection did something to me. I knew she wouldn’t be sleeping against me if she’d known what she was doing. But I appreciated the connection.

I lightly squeezed her knee. “Sweetness, let’s get you home.”

Paisley roused a little, blinking up at me with bleary, owlish eyes. A red crease marked her cheek from where my shirt had bunched. She blinked again and immediately scooted away. “Sorry,” she murmured, a deep pink flush staining her skin.

“Let’s go.” I carefully steered her out of the pew and down the aisle towards the foyer. Pastor John caught my eye, and I gave him a brief nod. His smile was understanding, and he offered a quick wave. I knew I could expect a text from him, wanting to make sure we were okay. He was good like that—a real shepherding kind.

Paisley didn’t say much on the way home, just curled up against the window, while I hummed “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” Tonight had been a big step for her, but she’d done it.

Rosie Cotton met us in the entryway, wiggling excitedly, as if we’d returned from a year-long adventure without her instead of just a couple hours. Paisley gave her a half-hearted pat and kicked off her flats before pattering to the sofa.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked, tucking the shoes onto the rack.

She mumbled something I didn’t catch.

“Pais?”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.” I grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch and carefully draped it over her, then rescued the glasses she’d taken off.

“Bet this isn’t where you saw yourself in life,” Paisley whispered.

I stilled at the words. “What do you mean?”

“Living in a small town with a boring bookish wife who broke her head.”

“You aren’t broken, Pais.”

“Tell that to my memory.”

I paused for a minute. Maybe it wasn’t what I’d expected, but I was definitely where I wanted to be. “From how I see it, I’m exactly where I promised I’d be.”

One eye cracked open, and I knew she could see the outline of my expression, so I crouched down.