The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek (3 page)

“Blossom’s always had servants. She wouldn’t like to clean the thrift shop.”

“We don’t know that. We could give her a chance,” Mercedes said in the pleasant voice that fooled so many people into thinking she was so very sweet and so completely unlike Birdie. “Make it sort of like a test. If she can’t do it, we could train her, you and I. You’re a great trainer.”

“Pfutt.”

“We could make her a provisional member, like we did with Winnie. It wouldn’t hurt. With the bazaar and dinner coming up, she could help. More hands would lighten the load.” Mercedes glanced at her old friend. “Not that we
need
the load lightened.”

Birdie pondered Mercedes’s words for nearly a minute. “All right. We should probably do this. It’ll make the preacher happy.”

“If he’s happy, he’ll be less suspicious of our efforts to get him married.” Mercedes broke off another piece of banana bread. “Why don’t we invite Blossom to go with us next time we visit the preacher or ask her to join us for coffee some afternoon. Get to know her a little better.”

Good idea. As much as she’d like to punish Mercedes a little bit for suggesting she allow Farley Masterson to court her, not even at her most difficult—which could be pretty darned difficult—could Birdie turn down a sensible proposal. She nodded. “You ask her. She’s more likely to come if you call. I scare her. Winnie probably does, too.”

A
dam ran his finger around the collar of his shirt, attempting to loosen it. He wore one of his three dress shirts to the office every day but seldom buttoned it or wore a tie. He’d noticed last Sunday that the shirt collar seemed tight around the neck. He’d solved that by using the neck expander—a button and an elastic loop—he’d found in his desk, left, he guessed, by a previous minister with a similar problem.

Because he’d planned to preach at the retreat Sunday morning in a shirt and tie, he tried on another. Also tight, and not only around his neck but in the shoulders. The next one felt snug as well.

Could he have put on a little weight? Maybe some muscle? He couldn’t weigh himself because he didn’t have a scale. The total always depressed him because as much as he ate, he never gained a pound.

Maybe he had. Could be all those meals Miss Birdie forced on him, the food the congregation dropped off, and Ouida’s treats had begun to work. He studied himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked less skinny. He’d either have to buy new shirts or invest in a few more neck expanders. Fortunately, the knit shirts still fit. He’d preach in one of those. He tossed a few in his duffel bag and left it open to finish packing in the morning.

The next day, on the drive to the retreat, Mac sat next to Adam in the front seat of the borrowed van. Bree lay on the bench seat at the far back because Hector and Bobby had taken the comfortable swiveling seats in the middle. “Long legs,” the guys had explained.

As they pulled into the campground, the sun was heading toward the horizon. They got out of the van and stretched. Adam noticed the sound of crickets at the same time the smell of wood smoke from the lodge greeted them.

The setting didn’t impress the guys.

“This is really…” Hector paused to think of a word.

“Rustic?” Adam suggested as he popped the back of the vehicle.

“No, primitive.”

“Yeah.” Bobby nodded. “Do they have running water?”

“Haven’t you been to camp before?” Mac pulled two small bags from the vehicle.

“Basketball camp, but that’s in dorms on a college campus. I have to check this out.” Bobby swaggered toward the recreation hall. Nice kid, Adam knew, but Bobby loved to show a little ’tude.

“Not luxury,” Adam said. “But…”

He didn’t finish because Gussie exploded out of the building in typical Gussie fashion, waved, and shouted, “Welcome.”

“That’s Gussie,” Bree said to Hector. “She directs the retreats and camps every year. She’s great.”

Wearing jeans and a bright green T-shirt with
WALK IN FAITH
printed on it and her dark hair curling around her smiling face, she looked very different from the professional woman he’d met before. The kids with him grinned because no one could
not
smile when she did. Adam both smiled and blinked. Fortunately, his mouth hadn’t flopped open. He glanced at the kids, hoping none had noticed his response.

Mac had. She wore a sly smile that looked exactly like Miss Birdie’s at her most dangerous.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I won’t tell Grandma you like Gussie. I know what she’s like.”

He had to believe she’d keep her word. No other acceptable choice.

“Come on in. Time to get your packets. Don’t forget to pick up a T-shirt and sign up for chores.”

“Sign up for chores?” Bobby grumbled. “Hector, what did I let you talk me into? I could’ve stayed home. My mother has a whole list of chores for me.”

After Bree and Mac gave Gussie a quick hug, they led the grumbling Bobby and Hector into the enormous and echoing all-purpose room. Several adults and about thirty kids wandered around and greeted one another.

“Pick up your stuff, then take your bags upstairs and find a bunk,” Gussie said. “Girls on the south; boys on the north. Meet us down here in a few minutes at the basketball court.”

“You gonna play?” Hector asked Bree.

“Sure. I play on the team at school. Varsity.” She glared, looking tough. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but…don’t want you to get hurt,” Bobby said.

“Let’s wait and see who gets hurt,” Bree challenged.

Later in the day during a quick pickup game, Adam watched as both Bree and Hector went up for a rebound. Although Hector had five inches in height and fifty pounds on Bree, she had sharper elbows and more determination. She came down with the ball.

“Hey,” he said as he rubbed his side after the game. “You don’t play like a girl.”

“Told you.”

“We were taking it easy on you,” Bobby said.

“Next time, don’t.” With that, Bree dribbled toward the dining hall. She reached the edge of the court, turned, and shot. As the ball swished in, Adam cheered.

Before Bobby could grab the ball, Gussie came out with a bag. “Looks like a terrific game, guys.” She smiled at everyone and motioned for them to gather around her. “Tonight the youth group from Roundville is setting the tables.” She grinned at the groans from her youth. “Hey, don’t complain. You get to do this because you’re special.” She clapped to quiet them. “Dinner in twenty minutes. We have just enough time for Slinky races on the steps down to the pool.” She started flinging the toys around. “Winner doesn’t do chores tonight.” With that, everyone took off toward the pool.

After dinner, Gussie stood and waved at the group. “Welcome!” she said and the kids all clapped and stamped their feet and shouted, “Gussie! Gussie—”

She quieted the group, made announcements, then asked, “Anyone want to sing?”

Campers shouted song suggestions.

“Okay, let’s start with this one. Everyone join in. ‘If you’re happy…’”

Gussie had a wonderful voice, strong and clear. She walked around the tables as she led the group, encouraging and bringing the voices together. When they began “Silver Spade,” she coaxed harmony from the group with a movement of her hand.

Was there anything Gussie couldn’t do?

After several songs and a glance at her watch, she said, “Cleanup crew, get started. Adults, meet at the center tables. Vespers at seven.”

As Hector stood to start his chores, he said, “Gussie’s got a great voice. We need her in our choir.”

“She’d sure liven up the service,” Bobby added. “You know, it’s pretty boring.”

Bree laughed. “She’d sing a solo every Sunday and probably keep Mr. Foxx awake.”

Then Mac grinned at Adam. If he’d thought she hadn’t noticed how much Gussie had entranced him during the singing, he was wrong.

At the counselors’ meeting after dinner, the adults listened while Gussie handed out schedules and took questions. Then she introduced Adam as “the new kid on the block.” She smiled at him in exactly the same way she’d smiled at Jimmy Flock, the gray-haired minister. Pleasant, happy to see both of them. Darn. The attraction obviously didn’t go both ways.

“We’re going to need a patrol outside from midnight to two o’clock,” Gussie said. “After that, those most determined to escape should be asleep and we can get some rest. I’ll take it tonight but need another volunteer and two for tomorrow night.”

“I’ll join you tonight,” Adam said before anyone else could speak.

“Terrific. We can get to know each other,” Gussie said. “Who’ll sign up for tomorrow?”

The schedule of vespers, games, refreshments, and corralling campers attempting to escape the building kept him busy after the meeting. By midnight, the youth were simulating sleep while the adults had dozed off as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

The time had come to meet Gussie in the dining hall and start on their rounds.

And it was time for Adam to consider how to behave with Gussie. Oh, he wouldn’t back her against a tree and kiss her passionately until she begged for more. Not that he’d turn that down if the opportunity appeared, but it didn’t seem realistic. Nor would he attempt to gaze longingly into her eyes. In the dark, she wouldn’t notice anyway.

As he opened the screen door to enter the dining hall, he still had no plan. He saw Gussie at one of the tables waiting for him, her face pensive. She was lovely in repose. Usually, all that joie de vivre lit up her face. The vibrancy was what everyone noticed. Now, in this moment of calm, he realized she radiated beauty as well.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a smile. “Let’s get going. You’re the muscle and I’m the mouth. If we find anyone, you grab them and I’ll lecture.”

She handed him a flashlight, and they stepped outside into the glare of the halogen lights that surrounded the dining hall. Moving beyond that, they headed toward the lake.

“The lake’s man-made, of course,” Gussie said.

Man-made lakes. Exactly the best choice of subjects for a romantic rendezvous between a man and a woman alone beneath the glow of a full moon and surrounded by the soft darkness and a sweetly scented breeze.

“Of course?” he asked. Pitiful effort, but that was the best reply he could come up with to begin his wooing.

“Caddo’s the only natural lake in Texas. The rest are man-made.”

“Interesting.” He sounded like an idiot. He wished he could come up with a dazzling and witty comment about man-made lakes, but no flirtatious responses leaped to mind. “Where’s Caddo?”

“Over on the border with Louisiana. Pretty place. You should go there someday.”

“I should.”

Those words pretty much stopped the tête-à-tête. As they moved down an uneven path, he thought about reaching out to help Gussie over a log but knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted or expected a gentleman to take care of her and make sure she—a delicate flower—didn’t trip.

“How are things in Butternut Creek?” she asked after they’d walked nearly the length of a football field—Adam had adjusted to this normal measure of distance in Texas.

“Are you asking about the state of the church or how Miss Birdie and I get along?”

She laughed. “Yes, that’s really what I wanted to ask. How are the two of you doing? I’d imagine a young, single minister wasn’t what she had in mind.”

“You know her well.”

“Not really. I’ve met her, but my parents have known her forever. She’s a legend in the churches of Central Texas.”

“She’s working hard to train me. If I’d only do everything she wants exactly as she wants it, she’s sure I’d be much happier and more successful.”

“Perceptive of you.”

They arrived at a picnic table halfway around the lake with a clear view of the dorms above the dining hall. A halogen light stood twenty yards away and lent a hazy glow to the area.

“Why don’t we sit here and keep an eye out?” he asked.

Silence fell between them again as the two looked across the lake. A comfortable silence. A
friendly
silence.

“Why the need for a patrol?” he asked. “Do kids often sneak out of the dorms?”

“Usually not. These are good kids. They’ll stay up and talk and fool around, but most of the time, the adults keep them in line.” She paused.

He read into that an unvoiced concern. “But?” he prompted.

“It doesn’t hurt to have the campers know we’re out here, just in case. We’ve had a few incidents, but only one that amounted to anything, one best forgotten.” Her voice lost the usual animation. “One that really upset me.”

He couldn’t read her expression because the tree branches trapped and diffused the dim light, but he could read her slumping shoulders.

Before he could ask another question, Gussie jumped to her feet.

“Well, enough of that.” Her voice sounded happy, and her stance looked filled with confidence.

Which was the real Gussie Milton? Oh, he knew people had good moments and bad, but the change in her had come so suddenly that it took him a few more seconds to realize what had happened. That quick flash from a melancholy Gussie to a high-spirited Gussie confused him.

“Let’s get going.” She headed toward the other end of the lake. “While we’re sitting here, someone could be climbing out a rear window.”

“Aren’t there enough adults inside to make sure that doesn’t happen?” He took several long steps to catch up with her. “Aren’t adults sleeping by all the doors and windows?”

“Yes, but after a long drive and a couple of hours rounding up kids, the adults sleep deeply. Kids can crawl over them and right out the windows.”

“But the dorms are on the second floor.”

“That makes it more of a challenge.” She laughed. “Besides, there’s a flat roof over the kitchen with a big tree next to it.”

“Sounds like you’ve had experience.”

“Hey, kid, I wasn’t always an elderly stick-to-the-rules counselor. That’s why I know how to handle the campers.”

“Hey, lady,” he said. “You’re not that much older than me.”

She laughed, a sound that expressed complete lack of agreement.

Saturday, the second day of the retreat, started warm. By one thirty, it had increased to just plain hot. After the morning group meetings, lunch, and the usually ignored hour of rest, Gussie settled on one of the benches surrounding the basketball court where Adam and four players from Butternut Creek battled against a team from Kingsland in a play-off game of the annual challenge. Didn’t seem quite fair because Butternut Creek had three high school starters—Hector, Bobby, and Bree—but Adam seemed to be the force the other teams couldn’t match up against, and Mac held her own.

As everyone watched, Adam drove and hustled and focused, pointed out the defense, distributed the ball, shouted instructions to the others, and had a great time doing it all. This was an Adam Gussie hadn’t seen before, didn’t realize existed. This was a man who took charge with confidence.

“Dish the rock,” he shouted at Bobby, who liked to hog the ball. Then Adam said, “Good job,” after Mac successfully battled for a board. A few seconds later, he set a screen for Hector for a shot from downtown.

Halfway through the game, the players were soaked with sweat.

Oh, my. Adam not only played ball well, he looked great. Gussie blinked several times but couldn’t ignore him. No longer
Pastor Adam
, in her mind he’d assumed a completely different identity:
Basketball Adam
. Sweaty and hunky
Basketball Adam
. His T-shirt clung to broad shoulders she hadn’t realized he had, and to a nicely muscled body. Skinny but, she hated to admit, very appealing. Since when had she found “sweaty” attractive?