left?”
Zoey didn’t answer right away. “I thought she’d be better off here.”
The shadows had returned, dimming the light in her expressive eyes like an evening mist. Matt wanted nothing more than to chase them away. “I think she remembers you.”
“Really?” Hope and doubt battled for dominance in Zoey’s eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard her purr before. To tell you the truth, I think it’s the recliner she likes, not necessarily my company.” Matt reached down and rubbed his knuckles against the soft fur between George’s ears. “But she is the first one who hears my sermons. Every Saturday afternoon.”
A smile shimmered in Zoey’s eyes.
A smile that stalled his heart in midbeat. Matt swallowed.
“She used to curl up on the end of my bed and listen to me sing,” Zoey admitted softly. “She never cared about what song it was either.”
Matt read between the lines.
Someone had.
Matt realized that he had just been given a gift. A brief, unguarded glimpse into Zoey’s heart.
He nodded, feeling his way through uncharted territory. Afraid that one careless word would send her running for cover again. “I know what you mean. George never falls asleep in the middle of my sermons. And she’s never critical.”
Zoey’s laughter bubbled up like a spring. “Or it could be that George is hard of hearing. She is getting up there in cat years, you know.”
“Hey.” Matt grinned, thrilled that she’d let her guard down long enough to tease him.
“Dad always practiced his sermons on me,” Zoey said after a moment.
It was the first time she had mentioned her father. “He must have valued your opinion.”
Pain flashed across Zoey’s face like summer lightning. “Not really.” Her smile, when it appeared, was rueful. “I think he wanted to make sure I heard them twice.”
Matt tried to remember what Liz had said about her only son and his wife. “Your parents are on the mission field. In Africa, right?”
“Yes.”
“So, how many years did you live over there?” Matt asked, then instantly regretted asking the question. He could see Zoey shut down. It was like watching a castle come under siege. Bolts in place. Windows slammed shut. Doors barred.
“I better go. I promised Gran I’d make a grocery store run today.” Zoey gently moved George off her lap.
She’d retrieved the bouquet of daisies and was halfway to the door before Matt realized it. He scooped up a boneless, purring George and followed.
“Wait a second. You forgot something.”
Zoey turned around and her eyes widened. “Matt, no—” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “She belongs to you now.”
Ignoring her protest, Matt transferred the cat into her arms. “Say ‘welcome home.’”
“Welcome home,” Zoey murmured, pressing her cheek against the soft ruff of fur below the cat’s whiskers.
Matt felt a hitch in his breathing. “I was talking to George.”
“I can’t believe that cat is back again.” Gran chuckled as George trotted into the room at Zoey’s heels, her feather duster tail swishing the air.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Zoey asked anxiously.
“Of course not,” came the instant reply. “George was good company until Matt moved in next door.” Liz chuckled. “She would climb onto his lap when he came over for a visit. The next thing I knew, George was spending more time at the carriage house than she was with me. I teased Matt that he lured her away with kitty treats. He was new in town, though, and didn’t really know anyone. He needed her more.”
It was so like Liz to put someone else’s needs before her own, but Zoey doubted that her grandmother was right. A man like Matt wouldn’t be lonely. Not with a congregation of a hundred people looking out for him.
And even though Zoey was pretty sure Matt had been joking when he’d confessed that George was the first one who heard his sermons, he hadn’t laughed at her when she admitted that the cat had once
Zoey didn’t answer right away. “I thought she’d be better off here.”
The shadows had returned, dimming the light in her expressive eyes like an evening mist. Matt wanted nothing more than to chase them away. “I think she remembers you.”
“Really?” Hope and doubt battled for dominance in Zoey’s eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard her purr before. To tell you the truth, I think it’s the recliner she likes, not necessarily my company.” Matt reached down and rubbed his knuckles against the soft fur between George’s ears. “But she is the first one who hears my sermons. Every Saturday afternoon.”
A smile shimmered in Zoey’s eyes.
A smile that stalled his heart in midbeat. Matt swallowed.
“She used to curl up on the end of my bed and listen to me sing,” Zoey admitted softly. “She never cared about what song it was either.”
Matt read between the lines.
Someone had.
Matt realized that he had just been given a gift. A brief, unguarded glimpse into Zoey’s heart.
He nodded, feeling his way through uncharted territory. Afraid that one careless word would send her running for cover again. “I know what you mean. George never falls asleep in the middle of my sermons. And she’s never critical.”
Zoey’s laughter bubbled up like a spring. “Or it could be that George is hard of hearing. She is getting up there in cat years, you know.”
“Hey.” Matt grinned, thrilled that she’d let her guard down long enough to tease him.
“Dad always practiced his sermons on me,” Zoey said after a moment.
It was the first time she had mentioned her father. “He must have valued your opinion.”
Pain flashed across Zoey’s face like summer lightning. “Not really.” Her smile, when it appeared, was rueful. “I think he wanted to make sure I heard them twice.”
Matt tried to remember what Liz had said about her only son and his wife. “Your parents are on the mission field. In Africa, right?”
“Yes.”
“So, how many years did you live over there?” Matt asked, then instantly regretted asking the question. He could see Zoey shut down. It was like watching a castle come under siege. Bolts in place. Windows slammed shut. Doors barred.
“I better go. I promised Gran I’d make a grocery store run today.” Zoey gently moved George off her lap.
She’d retrieved the bouquet of daisies and was halfway to the door before Matt realized it. He scooped up a boneless, purring George and followed.
“Wait a second. You forgot something.”
Zoey turned around and her eyes widened. “Matt, no—” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “She belongs to you now.”
Ignoring her protest, Matt transferred the cat into her arms. “Say ‘welcome home.’”
“Welcome home,” Zoey murmured, pressing her cheek against the soft ruff of fur below the cat’s whiskers.
Matt felt a hitch in his breathing. “I was talking to George.”
“I can’t believe that cat is back again.” Gran chuckled as George trotted into the room at Zoey’s heels, her feather duster tail swishing the air.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Zoey asked anxiously.
“Of course not,” came the instant reply. “George was good company until Matt moved in next door.” Liz chuckled. “She would climb onto his lap when he came over for a visit. The next thing I knew, George was spending more time at the carriage house than she was with me. I teased Matt that he lured her away with kitty treats. He was new in town, though, and didn’t really know anyone. He needed her more.”
It was so like Liz to put someone else’s needs before her own, but Zoey doubted that her grandmother was right. A man like Matt wouldn’t be lonely. Not with a congregation of a hundred people looking out for him.
And even though Zoey was pretty sure Matt had been joking when he’d confessed that George was the first one who heard his sermons, he hadn’t laughed at her when she admitted that the cat had once
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