Lethal Lasagna by Rhonda Gibson Page B

I sighed with relief and made a pretense of looking for today’s date in the book.
    It was your normal class. Prayer requests, prayer, and then the lesson. I smiled at the subject of our discussion, God Is Love, So What? I’m never good at just listening to someone else read to me, and I found myself speed reading through the lesson.
    The creaking of the door opening caught my attention. I wondered who the latecomer was and felt thankful it wasn’t me.
    Brandon Harvest apologized for being late. His gaze met mine and then the cad winked. While he took a seat, heat consumed my face.
    TITLE

Lethal Lasagna

Chapter 7
    The minister finished his sermon and then said. “Before you leave, allow me to make a couple of announcements. The annual baseball game and picnic are next Sunday. So plan to come and stay for the afternoon fun. Also, Ladies, I understand from my lovely wife that you are putting together a scrapbook cookbook. She asked me to remind you to arrive Tuesday night at six and bring your scrapbook supplies and recipes. The proceeds will go toward sending the ladies on a women’s autumn retreat. Well, I think that’s it. I hope to see you all back here at six tonight. Let’s pray.”
    I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts kept returning to the last announcement. The ladies were working on a cookbook? Was it possible one of them had a killer lasagna recipe?
    “Amen.”
    Could one of these sweet ladies have disliked Mitzi enough to poison her? I gathered my things and stepped out into the aisle.
    People pressed in on all sides. A husky voice whispered in my ear. “It was good to see you here this morning.” Brandon placed his hand in the center of my back as we made our way to the exit.
    The warmth of his palm traveled through the thin sweater. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Mitzi attended the same church?” I whispered back.
    “You didn’t ask me.”
    I wanted to scream. “You knew I would be here today.”
    “I hope you enjoyed our services.” A woman said as she entered the aisle beside me.
    I smiled and tried to ignore the warmth creeping up my spine and into my hair. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”
    “Then maybe you’ll come again.” The woman beamed happily.
    I met her grin with one of my own. “Actually, I’m interested in coming Tuesday for the cookbook class. Do you attend that?”
    If it were possible, I believe her smile grew even wider. “Oh yes, we just started last month but it has been so much fun.” She now stood in front of the minister.
    “I’ll be looking for you.” She offered before turning her full attention on the pastor. “That was a wonderful message, Pastor Haywood.”
    “Why thank you, Sister Williams. I’m glad it touched your heart. I hope you’re coming to the picnic. I’m looking forward to a sample of your homemade apple pie next week.” He released her hand and smiled.
    “I’ll be here and I’ll bring my recipe for that sweet little wife of yours.” She hurried out the door.
    Then the preacher turned to me.
    “Pastor, I’d like you to meet Claire Parker.” Brandon spoke around me.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I hope you come back tonight.”
    What do you say when a man of God asks you to come back to church? I found myself saying, “I’m looking forward to it.” I wonder if people burn in hell for saying the first thing they know is expected of them.
    Only if you lied. That inner voice taunted. Sometimes I wonder how much of that voice is from God and how much of it is me? In this case, I knew it was God.
    Brandon must have sensed my confusion. He shook hands with the minister, and then tucked my hand through his arm and led me out to the parking lot. The dark skies still hovered overhead but thankfully the rain had stopped. When we stood beside his pick up, he released me. “How about some lunch, as friends of course?”
    “Mrs. Parker! Mrs. Parker!”
    I turned to find Mrs. Haywood running toward us. She held my soiled