Free The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek by Jane Myers Perrine

a bit.”
    Because he couldn’t refute her observation, he hurried on. “Those words from Micah are how the Widows feel. They serve others. When I arrived a few months ago, they got donations to furnish the parsonage. Because of that, we could open it up to an injured woman and her family. Now two homeless kids live there. The Widows furnished the bedroom, provided all the linens. The Widows take food to shut-ins and volunteer within the community.”
    “Maybe this was a mistake.” Again she fluttered her fingers toward the Widows. “I really don’t feel that way, you know, humble and kind, and how could I do anything about justice? I probably wouldn’t fit in. In fact”—she folded her hands—“I don’t, not a bit.”
    Adam allowed her words to hover between them before he asked, “What will you be doing with your time?”
    “I could play bridge.” She sighed. “But I’m tired of that. A lot of gossip, and I know too many rumors were going around about Jason and me to enjoy it anymore.” She paused. “I could become a docent at the art gallery, but that’s in Austin.”
    “A long drive, and you wouldn’t be making new friends here in Butternut Creek.”
    She bit her lips, then shook her head. “I don’t know.” Tears appeared in her eyes. “I’m really not good at anything except taking care of Jason and being his hostess.”
    Adam handed her a couple of tissues.
    She swallowed and dabbed at her eyes. “Pastor, I have no skills. I’ve had hired help all my life, even as a child. They’ve always done everything.”
    “Aren’t you in charge of the help? Didn’t you plan the receptions and dinners and parties for your husband? I imagine you’re a good organizer.”
    “Well, yes, I am that, but there’s no need in this group for an organizer with Birdie and Winnie around.”
    “Maybe you’ll find another way to fit in. Please, give it another try. I truly believe you’ll be a great addition.”
    She nodded, wiped her eyes once more, then placed the tissues in her purse.
    Had the message gotten through? Adam could only hope it had. Blossom needed the Widows. He only hoped the Widows saw accepting her as an act of kindness.
     
    * * *
    “Good morning, Adam.”
    A glorious morning was always made brighter when he saw Ouida with a plate covered by a napkin.
    “I’ll carry this to the church,” she said as if he couldn’t quite manage that.
    Following her, Adam couldn’t help but notice that the short overalls Ouida wore made her backside look as wide as a football lineman’s—not that he made a habit of watching women’s derrieres. She wore a yellow striped T-shirt, sunny and happy like Ouida, but today she seemed determined about something and her usual stroll had become almost a march. Because Chewy slept in, only Adam followed.
    “Where’s Gretchen?”
    “She’s spending this week with my sister up in Plano.”
    By the time they’d entered the church, waved at Maggie, and entered the minister’s study, she’d slowed down a little. She placed the plate in the middle of Adam’s desk and turned to look at him.
    “Umm, do you do marriage counseling?”
    “I can and I do,” Adam said although he didn’t feel nearly as confident as his answer sounded. “What do you need?”
    “Oh, not for me and George.” She shook her head. “But I have some friends… All right, it’s about George and me.” She dropped into a chair in front of his desk. “You know that from what I said before.”
    When she sat, he did, too.
    He waited. She didn’t speak. He templed his fingers and watched her. He’d learned long ago—actually, last year in seminary—that listening brought more information than asking questions, usually. If it didn’t, he could ask questions.
    “You won’t try to convert me, will you? You know we aren’t religious people.”
    “Yes, I know. You’ve told me that.”
    “That’s right.” Apparently convinced he wouldn’t force faith on her, she said, “You