He waved her comment aside. “I’ve transitioned from contemplation to vegging. Would you like to sit with me, talk through those thoughts you’re trying to sort out? Kevin always gets waylaid by a parishioner or two after Mass. I doubt he’ll be out for another twenty minutes.”
Katherine hesitated, mulling over the pastor’s offer.
Would it help to talk to a third party about her issues? Someone who had no vested interest in the outcome? All Simon did was push her to take the role and stick with her career, and while Zach’s approach had been less selfish, there was no doubt about where he hoped she’d end up.
Maybe the minister could offer a few insights.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I am dealing with sort of a thorny—and confidential—problem.”
“Discretion is part of ministry. Whatever we talk about here will stay between us.” He motioned to the bench. “Please . . . join me.”
She closed the distance between them and sank onto the bench.
His expression open and kindly, he retook his seat and gave her his full attention.
Katherine knitted her fingers in her lap. Reverend Baker couldn’t offer her his best guidance unless he knew her whole story—so she told him the condensed version, ending with her current dilemma.
“Now I’m faced with a very short deadline, and to be honest, I’m more confused than ever.”
“Why do you think that is?”
After all the brainpower she’d invested in her quandary, that was the one question she could answer with absolute assurance.
“Because I don’t know what I’d do if I left that life behind—and because I’ve met someone here.”
“Ah. Romance.” He nodded. “That can affect your priorities. I know. I’ve been there.”
She raised her eyebrows at that unexpected revelation, and he aimed a rueful smile her direction.
“My experience in that department was long ago, but I remember it as if it happened yesterday. You see, my late wife wasn’t a Christian when we met—and for a man who’d had his sights set on a career in ministry since he was a teenager, that was a challenge after we fell in love.”
Speaking of thorny problems . . .
“I can see how that would be an issue.”
“To put it mildly. It’s not an exact parallel to your situation, but it gives me an inkling of what you’re going through. I had to think long and hard about my career plans. Thankfully, my wife chose to embrace Christianity, solving my dilemma. The difference in our situations is that you were already having second thoughts about your career choice when you met this person. That should make your decision a bit easier.”
“It would—if I could figure out what to do instead.” She watched a chickadee land on the feeder and help itself to a morning snack as she voiced the vague but tempting idea that was beginning to gel in her mind. “I’ve toyed with the idea of being a chocolatier, but my agent says I’m crazy.”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “Did you make those truffles that were in the kitchen at Hope House a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“I sampled one . . . or two. They were amazing.” He leaned back and regarded her. “I don’t suppose that sort of business pays like a Hollywood career, but if you can earn a living from it and the work gives you satisfaction—along with the privacy you’re after—why would that be crazy? Not every decision has to be predicated on whether it will bring fame or wealth.”
More or less the same conclusion she’d come to—until Simon had undermined her conviction.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking.”
“But will you miss being in front of the camera?”
It was the same question Zach had raised—and one she’d wrestled with mightily as she’d battled insomnia last night . . . until the answer had clicked into place.
“No. I enjoy acting—but I prefer stage work to film. And I’m also getting more interested in the directing side of the business.”
“Could you somehow combine your love of theater with candy making?”
That was an interesting suggestion.
“How would I do that?”
“I don’t know—but if you think about it, and pray about it, you may find a solution in God’s time.”
She sighed as the bell in the church tower chimed the hour. “Unfortunately, God’s time isn’t Simon’s time.”
“Then maybe for now you should focus on the movie role and let the larger issue percolate in your mind.”
Also what Zach had suggested—and he’d promised to wait while she sorted through her options.
But what if another woman came along who appealed to him—and who knew Hope Harbor was where she belonged without any of the angst that had plagued his temporary neighbor? Would it be fair to hold him to his promise if that happened?
“You don’t like that idea?”
At the minister’s gentle prompt, she reined in her wayward thoughts.
“You aren’t the first to suggest it—and it does have merit. I’d kill two birds with one stone—achieve my goal of proving to the world and myself that I have the acting chops to play a starring role in a major feature film and buy myself breathing space to think about my longer-term plans.”
“I hear a but in there.” The Grace Christian pastor’s gentle demeanor encouraged confidences.
She brushed a stray leaf off the seat beside her. “But . . . I’m afraid that if I leave, the man I’m interested in will find someone else. He says he’ll wait—but what if he doesn’t? What if I look back and regret putting this movie role ahead of him? What if I’m sorry later that I didn’t turn the part down and stay here while I decide what to do with the rest of my life?”
“Those are all valid concerns.”
She waited, but he didn’t offer anything more.
Where were the words of wisdom clerics were supposed to dispense to floundering souls?
“You don’t have any advice?” She tried for a neutral tone, but a thread of disappointment wove through it.
“Only you can answer those questions, Kat—sorry, Katherine. But if you want my take, it seems to me the root of the problem is trust—in your friend and his promise, and in God.”
Katherine filled her lungs with the spruce-scented air. Lifted her face to the heavens, where fluffy white clouds scuttled across the deep blue dome of sky.
In one fell swoop, Reverend Baker had nailed the cause of her ambiguity about whether to accept the movie role.
It was all about trust.
About having faith in the man who lived next door—and in God’s promise that he had plans for her welfare, not her woe.
But trust had never come easy for her—and working in Hollywood hadn’t bolstered it.
Yet deep inside, she knew God would never fail her . . . and unless her instincts were malfunctioning, neither would Zach. The man reeked of integrity, honor, courage—and dedication to the people he loved. New as their friendship was, every scrap of evidence she’d seen about her neighbor pointed to a man who was noble, principled, and trustworthy.
Doubting his promise did a major disservice to him.
Both God and Zach deserved her trust.