Free Finally a Bride by Vickie Mcdonough Page B

realized what she’d asked. “Oh dear. I suppose that did sound rather crass.” Her pinks grew rosy, and she chuckled. “My birth name was Hamilton, but after Luke married my ma, I chose to use his surname. It wasn’t my name that was awful, Reverend Jeffers, but rather my father.”
    He’d remembered hearing scuttlebutt about James Hamilton, but the man had died before Noah first came to Lookout. His fist tightened to think that Jack’s father could have hurt her so badly that she’d still be bitter today. “Have you found it within yourself to forgive your father, Miss Davis?”
    She straightened rigid as a newly cut piece of lumber. “I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.”
    “I’m your pastor now. It’s my duty to minister to you, and if I notice an area that you need help in, I feel I should do my best to assist you in overcoming it. An unwillingness to forgive eats away at a person, Miss Davis. It does more damage to the one who carries the weight of not forgiving than it does the person who originally committed the deed.”
    Her face wrinkled up. “Nevertheless, I’m the one asking questions today.” She scanned her paper then tapped a line with her pencil. “You said you received your training from this Pete Jeffers. Has he had any formal training as a minister?”
    Noah shrugged. “You know, I don’t think I ever asked him. Pete lives his life as a witness to those around him. I never doubted that he loved God with all his heart and had dedicated his life to serving others and helping them find peace in the Lord. He knew his Bible from end to end. He taught me as much as I could learn in the years I lived with him. I felt God calling me to minister to His flock. What other training is required?”

     
    Jack heaved a sigh. Was the man being purposefully vague? He had deftly deflected most of her queries like a skilled outlaw evading a judge’s questioning.
    “Let me ask you this,” he said. “What college did you graduate from to become a reporter?”
    Her mouth opened, but she didn’t know how to respond. Did he know she hadn’t been to college? But how could he? Were her interviewing skills so lacking that he picked up on it?
    He smiled. “Ahh … so you didn’t. What gives you the right to drill me on my credentials?”
    Jack narrowed her eyes. This man was unlike Reverend Taylor in just about every way. “You have effectively avoided answering most of my questions. Do you have something to hide, Reverend?”
    For the briefest of seconds, Jack was certain he blanched, but then he smiled.
    “What an imagination you have, Miss Davis. Perhaps you should be writing novels instead of newspaper articles.”
    Indeed. She’d worked at the newspaper off and on longer than her ma had been married to Luke. Jenny Evans had taught her well how to interview and to read people and catch deception. But what could a minister have to hide? Maybe she was too suspicious. Or maybe she was imagining things that weren’t there because she wanted so badly to score a big story to offer a Dallas paper.
    Jack scanned her list of questions again. She had precious little information for an article. “You never mentioned where you grew up.”
    He shrugged again. “Here and there. My folks never stayed in one place for long, and after my ma died, it only got worse.”
    Jack wanted to grit her teeth and scream at the evasive answer. She studied the man. His eyes were so dark that she couldn’t tell if they were deep brown or black. Shouldn’t a minister have caring, blue eyes instead of ones so dark and mysterious they threatened to suck you in like a whirlpool?
    Yet they weren’t unkind eyes. There was something compelling about them. Compelling her to believe in him. Compelling her to trust him.
    Her mind flashed back to another time. Another place. Another set of dark eyes begging her to believe. But just that fast, the memory was gone.
    She shook her head. What was that? Who was that?
    Reverend