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He spotted Lizzie and Corrie sitting in the front of the sparsely populated church as he walked through the door. She wore a vest made from soft faux fur, trimmed in white, and her hair lay rich against the paler colors. Ivory sleeves covered her arms against the chilled April air, and when she stood, she brushed her hair back, behind her shoulder. Then she glanced back.
She spotted him, but didn’t let her gaze linger. Not after he’d been such a moron the night before.
No, she dropped her eyes to Zeke and he hurried her way as if drawn, and Heath could do nothing but follow him to the front pew.
Zeke scrambled into place. He grinned up at her, then his father, then Lizzie again, as if being tucked between them was a treat. And when the elderly pastor began the short service, Zeke pretended to read out of Lizzie’s book of prayer. And word by word, Lizzie helped him, tapping the words with one trim finger.
The aging pianist sounded the notes for a final hymn, but before the congregation could begin, the pastor raised a hand. “I need to say a few words before we go,” he announced from the three steps leading to the sanctuary.
The pianist looked faintly annoyed but stopped playing. The small congregation grew quiet.
“You all know I’ve been having some health issues this year.” He glanced around the church as people nodded.
“And that winter is tough on me like it is on some other old folks in the area. So here it is.” He splayed his hands and gazed out at the thin clutch of people who’d made it a priority to come to church, and half a dozen of them were from Pine Ridge Ranch. “I’ll be leaving Shepherd’s Crossing in a few weeks. I’m going back to Boise, to live with my daughter. I wish I didn’t have to do this,” he told them. “Being here has meant a great deal to me, and I hope it’s been good for all of us. But there’s too much for an old man like me to do here, and that’s the truth of it. I’ll see you for a couple more weeks, and then…” He tried to smile but then his jaw quivered slightly and he stopped trying. “We’ll say our goodbyes.” He paused for several long seconds, then sighed. “The thing is…there won’t be anyone coming to take my place.”
Heath saw the congregation glance around nervously.
“There’s not enough money to pay a proper wage, and even clergy needs to eat. I’m sorry. I truly am,” he went on, then folded his hands tight across his middle. “We’ll have to close the church.”
“But not the bells, right, Dad?” Zeke might have thought he was whispering the words, but he wasn’t. “We can still listen to the bells on Sunday, right?”
The whole church stayed silent. Waiting for his answer? Waiting for someone to protest? To make things right?
He clutched Zeke’s hand, because how could he answer such a question when he had no answers himself?
Then he stooped low. “I don’t know, Zeke. I really don’t know.”
Zeke stared up at him, then lifted his eyes to where the bell tower stood above the front entrance. His gaze darkened and when old Ella Potts began banging on the piano with more zest than talent, Zeke didn’t move, apparently wondering about the bells he loved so much. And Heath had absolutely no idea what to tell him.
The aged pastor was standing at the door when Heath came through with Zeke. Lizzie had threaded her way through the people, and when he got to the door, she’d disappeared from view. But as he approached the minister, the old man proffered a hand his way. “Can I have a minute, Heath?”
Zeke clung to Heath’s right hand. He looked sad, and so did the pastor. No church. No pastor. No services. What kind of town were they left with? Was this what he wanted for his son? “I’m sorry you’re not doing well, Pastor.”
“Age catches up with most, one way or another,” Reverend Sparks said. “I can’t keep breath to preach like I should or pray like I should, and that’s no good for me or the people. And with the church so small and getting smaller—” His voice faded. “And the town down on just about everything… Only a few dozen show up on Sundays now.”
He was right, but the thought of no church in town didn’t sit right with Heath, even if the only reason he came was the three-and-a-half-foot boy by his side. “The town needs a church. Doesn’t it?”
“The town needs God,” replied the old man softly. “A building’s just a building. A town steeped in the faith of our fathers can stand strong against adversity. But a town divided, with everyone going their own way, well, that’s different, isn’t it? When we serve ourselves and money, there’s not a lot of room left for God.”
