She opened the door to the church’s backyard, seeing Lucky standing with only a pair of shorts on, his skin gleaming with sweat.
“Lucky?” she spoke softly, not wanting to interrupt, but she was concerned for her husband.
“Go inside, Willa. I’ll be there in a little while.”
Although she thought about refusing to be sent away again, the tense way he was holding himself made her wary.
“Okay. Take your time.” Willa bit her lip, tempted to try again. She wanted to say something that would reach him so he would talk to her, tell her anything.
“I love you.”
“I love you, Willa.” The tone in his voice brought tears to her eyes.
Since moving into the church, she had taken over the huge kitchen. Because the women provided meals for seniors, it had already been approved for food preparation, and Lucky had gained permission from the church deacons for her to do her baking there. She finally had the space she needed, which had almost tripled the desserts she made each week. Willa was ecstatic to be able to produce more without the added cost of overhead. He had even bought her two display cases that he had put in the church store. She was able to sell her desserts and give the church a percentage of the profits.
Her life was falling neatly into place. She took over Bible studies, baked in her free time, and was able to support Lucky as pastor when he needed her by his side.
She looked over her shoulder before going inside, torn to go to him.
Pain and loneliness shrouded him in the morning mist.
“God, please help him find what he’s searching for.”
*
Lucky heard the door close as Willa went back inside. He had heard her when she had come outside, but he hadn’t turned to face her. He couldn’t. The nightmare that awakened him still had him in its grip. He had prayed when they had married that he would be able to sleep next to Willa, that his love for her would keep the nightmare at bay. He had realized his mistake when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and shaking. The strange hotel hadn’t helped, either. He had jerked clumsily out of bed, but thankfully, Willa had been too exhausted to feel him leave.
Each night for the first two weeks, he had tried to fall asleep next to her yet had woken with the same fear churning in his gut. Since then, he had dozed at night, making sure to schedule two hours in the morning to sleep in his office. In the evening, he would tell Willa he had sermons to write and would sleep another two then.
The smell of bacon lured him from the early morning sun rising. Going inside, he bypassed the kitchen to go upstairs to shower and change. He came out of the shower to find a suit neatly pressed, lying on the bed. She had even shined his shoes and laid a matching pair of socks and tie perfectly positioned on the bed.
She did the same thing every morning, making his breakfast and laying out his clothes. She worked to anticipate his every need. She would fix his lunch, keep a pot of coffee warming, and even his favorite oatmeal raisin cookies sat in a container on the kitchen counter.
She was driving him nuts.
He wasn’t used to being waited on. Despite his objections, she would find something else he liked and make sure it was readily available.
As he began to go out the bedroom door, he picked up the starched handkerchief he had begun wearing in the front pocket. This was one of two habits he hadn’t tried to break. Inevitably, by the end of the day, he would be wiping Willa’s tears with it. His wife was too tenderhearted, and everyone in Treepoint was taking advantage of it. If he didn’t put a stop to it soon, the woman was going to work herself into an early grave.
He smiled when walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Willa from behind.
“Good morning, husband.”
“Good morning, siren.” He slid one hand inside the front of her robe, cupping her breast in his hand.
She swatted his hand away. “Go sit down; breakfast is ready. I need to get changed. I invited Dustin to bring my accounts by so you’ll quit worrying.”
“I’m only concerned because you let your customers run up big bills or don’t pay you at all. From what I can tell from what paperwork you have shown me, King and about five other customers are paying you.” Lucky sneaked one of the oatmeal raisin cookies as she placed his plate on the table.
“I told you I love baking, and my customers pay me when they get paid.”
“Why does the restaurant of Charles’s father owe such a large bill, then?”
Lucky was aware Lily’s old boyfriend had gone to school with Willa, also.
“Oh, he’s behind in taxes, but he’s going to get caught up with me after they’re paid.”
“Owing taxes didn’t keep him from buying Charles that new truck.”
Willa poured him a cup of coffee. Bending down, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “You worry too much.”
“I’m going to talk to them,” Lucky said firmly.