The Coldwater Warm Hearts Club by Lexi Eddings Page B

liked that.
    â€œOK, name one thing you remember about me.”
    She’d been his best friend’s girl and therefore off-limits. He and Daniel always had each other’s backs, on the gridiron and off. But things were different now and he couldn’t very well bring up Lacy’s old boyfriend as an excuse for not remembering things about her in high school. He might be out of practice, but he was certain that was not the way to make points with her.
    He pulled a nugget out of thin air. “I remember you played in pep band.”
    â€œOh, yeah. What instrument?”
    â€œHow should I know? They all sound like kazoos to me.”
    She laughed. “I can see it now—the Fighting Marmots All-Kazoo Marching Band! They ought to book us for the Macy’s parade.”
    Jake laughed with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared laughter with a woman that wasn’t forced.
    â€œBut anyway,” Lacy went on, “according to Georgina—the Queen Bee of Gossips at the Gazette —there is no chance Wanda will ever fire her longest-standing employee.”
    â€œWhy is that?” Jake asked.
    â€œNot sure, but my theory is that since Marjorie is the captain of the Methodist prayer chain, she must know where all the bodies are buried.”
    Jake chuckled. “She probably does at that, but Marjorie means well. I know it seems like she’s spreading gossip, but she really does care about people.”
    When he first came home and was adrift in the sea of changes his new leg had made to his life, Marjorie and her like-minded friends had prayed for him daily. And let him know they were doing so. It chafed at him in the beginning that other people thought he needed prayer.
    But then it started to feel good to know that there were people who stopped what they were doing to think about him and what he was going through. Then once he settled in at the Green Apple, the gaggle of self-proclaimed prayer warriors sort of loved him into attending the Wednesday night chapel service for people whose jobs wouldn’t let them go on Sunday morning.
    He’d found a measure of peace there. And a community of folks who were willing to come alongside him while he found a way to feel like he belonged again.
    â€œOh, that’s right,” Lacy said. “You’ve gone all churchy on me.”
    â€œNothing wrong with finding a little faith,” he said. “Hey, what’s your problem? You were raised in that church.”
    â€œYeah, but I sort of outgrew it.”
    â€œNobody outgrows the need for something to believe in.”
    â€œIt’s not about faith. It’s just church itself. I mean, who needs everybody all up in everyone’s business?”
    â€œSo it doesn’t make you feel good to know you were being prayed for while you were in trouble back in Boston?”
    â€œOf course not.” She glared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “The prayer chain is just Coldwater’s way of broadcasting my failures.”
    â€œEveryone fails at something.”
    â€œYeah, I know. But it’s almost like they’re saying, ‘Who do you think you are? See? We knew you couldn’t cut it in the big wide world.’”
    The prayer chain wasn’t saying that at all. That attitude was coming straight from Lacy herself. She evidently didn’t think she could cut it.
    â€œWhat else happened at the paper this week?” Jake asked to change the subject. This was far too serious a topic for a first date.
    She grinned. “I got the biggest kick out of some of the weekly notices sent to the paper. Did you see the one from the library?”
    Jake shook his head. He didn’t take the Gazette, but now that Lacy was writing for it, he needed to fix that immediately. “I must have missed that one.”
    â€œIt went sort of like this.” Lacy closed her eyes, the better to remember the piece verbatim.