Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 143728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
He sat and was watching television when Mrs. Langley came in, giving an exasperated look at him eating a sandwich. “I could have made you something better than that.”
“The last time I let you cook for me, I gained five pounds,” he said, getting up to pat his flat belly. “I need to watch my figure.”
Grinning that he made the grandmother blush, he carried his plate into the kitchen, then came back to see that she was settling down to watch television. “You better not be watching any scary movies tonight. I won’t be able to fight the zombies off for you. I need an early night. I’ll be leaving early tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll watch a documentary and play it safe.”
“You do that,” he said, heading toward the stairs. “Good night.”
“Good night, Gavin.”
Taking the steps two at a time, he went into his room where he tiredly turned the light off, then sat on the edge of the bed. He texted Memphis that he would be at the factory to watch the installation of the equipment before leaving for Ohio. He wanted to make sure there weren’t any issues before he paid them.
Lying back on the bed with a pillow at his back, he hit the number he called every night before going to bed, frowning when it went to voicemail.
“Hi, babe. Just wanting to say I love you before I go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” Disconnecting the call, he put his phone on the nightstand.
Yawning, he settled on the mattress, letting his mind go blank. He had set his alarm for six, planning to get breakfast before going to the factory. The only part he was dreading about this weekend had nothing to do with apologizing to Viper and everything about having to eat another cake. If he never ate another piece of cake again, he would be happy.
Chapter Sixteen
“Pastor Dean is in his office with a parishioner. He said you can wait inside the church or sit on the picnic table until he’s ready for you. I have a nail appointment and I can’t keep Sherrie waiting. The pastor will text me when you’re done. If it’s not dark, you can walk home. If it is, Dalt will pick you up. Make sure you don’t keep him waiting like you did me.”
“I won’t.” Ginny got out of the car and was barely a step away before Lisa drove off, leaving her alone in the parking lot.
Deciding to enjoy the freedom of being alone, she went through the gate leading into the playground area. Setting her backpack on the picnic table, Ginny climbed on the top and took out her radio and headphones, putting them in her ears. With her back to the church, she then took out her homework folder and started working on the first problem.
Unconsciously, she began singing along with the song playing in her ears. Losing track of time, it was only when she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle that she looked up and stopped singing. Tugging one of her earbuds out to hang limply so she could hear, Ginny had the eerie feeling of being watched. Had Pastor Dean called her name?
Closing her folder and putting it back in the backpack, she jumped off the picnic table and headed toward the church. As she came around the corner, she saw the pastor walking to her.
“I was just coming to get you,” he greeted her with a broad smile.
Ginny gave him a confused frown. “I thought I heard you call for me.”
“No, one of the windows in my office overlooks the picnic table. You probably heard us complimenting your singing. You have a lovely voice.”
Ginny paled. She hadn’t been aware of anyone listening. She hadn’t sung in front of anyone since Trudy.
“The choir could use a voice like yours,” he said persuasively.
She shook her head.
“Why not?” He stared at her quizzically as they went inside the church.
Because he was a pastor, she didn’t lie. “I don’t like to sing in front of other people.”
“You have stage fright?”
“If that means I don’t like to sing in front of other people, then yes.” When she was little, she had loved singing to anyone who would listen. She hadn’t had a shy bone in her body. Manny had snuck his radio in often, getting in trouble with her parents when they were caught.
“The best part of belonging to a group is that it’s not about the individual. It’s just a suggestion, but you could go to choir practice and see if you like it before you close the door completely on something you obviously enjoy,” Pastor Dean advised as he rearranged the chair in front of his desk to sit next to his. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Ginny thought it over. She did enjoy singing. “No, it wouldn’t hurt,” she admitted, having no intention of taking him up on his offer. Just the thought of singing in front of others had her wanting to excuse herself to go to the bathroom to puke her guts out.