Page 26 of Just Like Home

“Charlotte was a friend of Julianna’s,” Lucy said.

Beverly took Charlotte’s hands. “We’re all so sad about what happened.”

“Me too.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here today,” Beverly said with a warm smile. She handed them each a program and sent them on their way.

As they walked toward the sanctuary, Lucy stopped to talk to nearly every person they passed, dragging Charlotte along like she was a bird with a broken wing. Charlotte smiled as Lucy introduced her to everyone,she was Julianna’s friend,and it wasn’t until Lucy stopped in the middle of the aisle to chat with a Sunday school teacher named Delia that Charlotte took a second to look around.

Her eyes circled the sanctuary, which was surprisingly spacious given that the church didn’t appear to be all that large from the outside. Rows of pews lined the room with a long aisle down the center. The planked wood floor had a rustic look to it, and the walls were painted white.

People milled around like it was social hour, and though Lucy had done a good job of informing many of them who hernot from around hereguest was, there was still a curiosity on most of the faces that looked her way.

Self-consciousness washed over her. Charlotte wasn’t used to attention like this. She was used to the kind of attention she couldn’t really see. She’d always been grateful for the stage lights because they blinded her to the individual faces watching her perform. Out there, it was just her and the music.

In here, though, she felt like she was standing naked on a stage with all the lights on.

She glanced back at Lucy, who was still chatting away, and wished she could plop down on the pew and hide.

Did they all know she didn’t belong here? She didn’t exactly look like the rest of them. She’d spent her life believing God was this strange celestial being that liked to toy with the emotions of the people scurrying around on the earth, and blaming Him for saddling her with a mother as controlling and awful as Marcia Page. That’s on the rare occasion she thought of Him at all.

But now that she stood here, supposedly to worship Him, she wasn’t sure she could ever reconcile her anger with Him for taking Julianna.

These were the things she was thinking when she happened to glance toward the very back corner of the church where a familiar, sturdy form sat, eyes fixed squarely on her.

She didn’t dare look away.

Cranky Cole Turner at church—who would’ve imagined? Had he come to get washed clean after behaving poorly toward her?

Who was she kidding? No way he was even giving her a second thought. And yet, if that was true, then why was he still watching her?

“Lucy, can we sit?” Charlotte whispered as the music started and the milling seemed to lessen.

“Oh my goodness, of course. So sorry.” Lucy moved into the pew where they’d been standing the last five minutes, making sure there was room enough for both of them before taking her seat.

Charlotte sat next to her and let out a deep sigh, keenly aware that throughout this entire church service, Cole Turner could watch her from behind and she would never know.

Also keenly aware that she wished it was the other way around.

8

Cole sat in the very last pew in the back of Harbor Pointe Community Church, trying to focus on the service, but he found himself terribly distracted.

Amelia and AJ sat beside him, both unusually quiet. He’d picked them up that morning and found them sitting on the steps, dressed for church. He put the truck in park and watched them for a brief moment, wishing he could take away their pain.

Wishing someone would take away his.

Connor wasn’t ready to face the church crowd—or any crowd—and while he hadn’t said so, Cole had connected the dots and determined that his brother-in-law might be wrestling with some anger toward the good Lord above.

He knew a little something about that. After all, he hadn’t been back here that long himself.

His eyes darted from the stage to Charlotte then back to the stage.

Then back to Charlotte.

He’d seen her twice before, and both times, he’d been struck by her beauty. But seeing her now, in that dress, with her dark hair in long waves that hung past her shoulders, well, it stirred something in him he thought died the day Gemma left.

But it wasn’t just her beauty, was it? As he walked out the door that morning, cup of coffee in hand, he stopped at the vase of flowers sitting on the kitchen counter.

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