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Chapter4
“Sorry I’m late.”
When Charlotte deposited the cups on the counter in the church kitchen, the worship music had already started.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Maureen, a woman in her fifties with sharp features, grabbed up one of the packages and ripped it open.
Charlotte made an exaggerated grimace and Maureen laughed. “Enough. I forgive you. You’d better get in there or you’ll miss it.”
“You don’t need help here?”
“To stack some cups? No. I think I can handle it on my own, but I’ll be sure to call you if things go pear-shaped.”
“Make sure you do.”
* * *
Charlotte filed in and found a spot toward the back of the auditorium, intending to focus hard on the service, but she continued to struggle. The unease from her dream would not leave her alone, and, after the sermon, when the pastor prayed, Charlotte buried her face in her hands.God, please get rid of this. What is going on?
Watching her mom battle anxiety had planted a seed of fear in Charlotte that was doing its best to take root. In her head, she was certain her mom’s anxiety wasn’t hereditary, but her heart had doubts, and she worried that whatever had taken hold of her mom would get its claws into her.
A hand rested on her back, and Charlotte looked up.
“You okay?” the woman asked.
“Yeah. Susan. I’m fine. Just tired.” She considered Susan a friend in church, but they never saw each other outside of Sunday.
“Let me know if you need prayer.” She was also in charge of the prayer team.
“I will. Thanks for checking.” Charlotte had never been one to burden others with her problems. Taking it to God had always been enough, and she hoped it always would be. “I think I might get a coffee.”
She excused herself and headed toward the café area but slowed her gait halfway there. She could skip the filter coffee and get a decent one on the way home. Then she could spend the rest of the day binge-watching something. There had to be a decent series to watch. She’d even settle for a half-decent one at this point. Anything to get her mind off the horrible feeling she couldn’t shake.
“Hey there, Lottie. How’s work?” Bonnie was a woman in her seventies who had given Charlotte a nickname the first time they’d met. She was the only one who called her that.
“It’s going well,” Charlotte said in response to the same question Bonnie asked her every Sunday. She found Charlotte’s work as a voiceover artist fascinating. Charlotte enjoyed it but thought it sounded more glamorous than it actually was. “I recently signed another contract to narrate a book. I love your sweater, by the way.” She ran a hand down the older woman’s arm. The fabric was as soft as it looked.
“Yes, I find myself petting it without even realizing.” She giggled. “Isn’t that ridiculous? So this new book you’re narrating, an author I would know?”
“Do you read thrillers?”
“No, I’m a memoir kind of gal.”
“He’s pretty successful in his genre. It’s a series about a strong-willed female detective who’s always getting into hot water because of her unconventional methods.”
“Ooh. Sounds exciting.”
“I’ve read through the first book. It was hard to put down. I’ve also got a few more jobs doing voiceovers for ads as well. It keeps me busy enough.”
“Glad to hear it. Are you staying for a coffee?”
“No, I—” Something in her spirit stopped her. “Actually, yes. I think I might.”Why today?she said up to heaven. Her couch was calling her, but she knew God was right. If she went home, all she’d do was mope and maybe even let that niggling anxiety grow.
She took a couple steps and heard her name being called from behind. At this rate, it would take her all day to make it across the room.
She turned. “Pastor Marc, good morning. That was a great service this morning.”
“Yes. We had a great time of worship, didn’t we?” He looked around at the crowd that was growing in the café and frowned as he leaned forward, unsure about the information he was conveying. “I’m not sure if this is a private matter, but there’s a call for you.”
