Second Chance Sweethearts (Love Inspired) by Kristen Ethridge Page B

of the mud-splattered building as his words trailed off. He didn’t need to say anything. If a picture was worth a thousand words, seeing this kind of destruction for herself had to be worth a million.
    “Is there anything left, Pastor?” Gloria asked, almost certain of the answer.
    He shook his head. “No. Not much. All of our seats were completely soaked. All of the electronics were standing in water, so they have to be ruined. The cross is still standing on the back wall, though. I guess that’s all we really need, right? As long as we have Jesus, we can rebuild the buildings and the lives of the people in them.”
    Gloria nodded in casual agreement.
    There were going to be long days ahead for Port Provident. Who knew when the electricity would come back on or when they could do something as simple as take a shower again? Rebuilding seemed like a distant idea. Kind of like kids always waiting for Christmas. They knew it was coming eventually, but it was so far out on the horizon.
    “I’m hoping that everyone can return to the island soon,” Pastor Ruiz continued. “We’re stronger when we’re all together.”
    Gloria’s head snapped up toward the sky. “Really? Again?” She spit the words out under her breath.
    “Did you say something, Gloria?” Monica asked.
    “Sort of. The strangest things keep happening to me the last few days. Everywhere I go, it seems like someone is talking about strength.” She hesitated even saying it. They probably all thought she was crazy. But she figured she couldn’t look much crazier, since she’d just been caught red-handed talking to the clouds above.
    “Maybe it’s just your subconscious talking to you, Gloria.” Monica screwed the orange lid back on her drink bottle. “You know, like when I got my new car last year. I thought I was getting something unique. Next thing I know, I see a green Volkswagen convertible at every stoplight. I still don’t know if there was some kind of Beetle convention on the island, or if I just became more aware of them.”
    Gloria picked through the bag of trail mix, looking for raisins. “I’ve had that happen to me before, too. But this is just getting weird. It’s like you know how they say ‘be careful what you ask for’—well, I guess I got it.”
    A chuckle came from Pastor Ruiz. “Oh, I think we all prayed for strength when those winds were howling.”
    Gloria knew he was probably right. Everyone probably telegraphed a prayer to God to help them make it through the night. Even nonbelievers did that in times of extreme stress, so it wouldn’t be too unusual. But she’d become a cynic, a lapsed believer, and it had been a long time since she’d really talked to God about anything.
    “It’s just that...”
    “It’s been a long time since you’ve prayed for anything?” The middle-aged man’s eyes conveyed a tenderness and understanding that made Gloria feel anything but strong. Her knees softened a bit and she adjusted her stance.
    “How did you know?”
    He clapped a hand on her shoulder and patted it twice. “I’m your pastor. I’ve known you a long time. In the good times and the bad. And I know you’ve just been going through the motions since Felipe and the baby died. Your body is here every week, but your heart isn’t. God knows it, too.”
    Of course He knew. Gloria might feel disconnected, but she still remembered all those childhood Sunday school lessons. God knew everything. It made her stomach turn with shame and dry saltines.
    She’d tried to hide in plain sight when really, she should have known better.
    Instead of moving away, Pastor Ruiz took one step closer.
    “But, Gloria, it’s okay. Even the Prodigal Son ran away. What was important was that the son came back.” The pastor patted Gloria gently again. “It’s important that the daughter comes back, too.”
    Gloria found herself at an unusual loss for words.
    The silent pause didn’t seem to bother the pastor. Instead, he used it to make