The Hearts We Mend by Kathryn Springer

colorful brochure.
    â€œIt’s an annual event. We always have it the weekend after the Fourth of July because the attendance is better. A cookout, carnival games for the kids. I realize this is short notice, but we don’t expect you to handle all the details yourself. Dan Moretti’s men’s group is in charge of grilling the hot dogs and burgers, and the women’s ministry team takes care of everything else. Did you get a chance to meet Evie at the wedding?”
    Fortunately, Keith didn’t wait for Jack to respond. Because his response would have to be Actually, we met a few months ago in my brother’s backyard . She had a bag of groceries . . . I had a baseball bat.
    And she’d lingered in Jack’s mind for days afterward.
    â€œEvie’s worked at Hope Community for thirteen years. Her office is right next door to mine.” Pastor Keith pointed to the wall on Jack’s left. “If you have any questions, she knows the answers and she’ll be more than willing to help you out.”
    Jack wasn’t so sure about that.
    The pastor’s gaze shifted to something beyond Jack’s shoulder, and he smiled. “Tell Mort I’ll be there in a minute, Pauline.”
    Jack took that as his cue to leave. He rose to his feet, still a little stunned by what had just happened.
    He’d walked into Keith Anderson’s office expecting to be fired, and instead he’d been put in charge of a picnic. He could almost hear God chuckling.
    I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.
    Not the most eloquent prayer Jack had come across in the Bible, but definitely one of the most honest. And one he repeated at least half a dozen times a day.
    Fishing the keys from the pocket of his jeans, Jack unlocked the door of the custodian’s room and stepped inside. It was a little intimidating, the way Harvey Kinnard kept the space as smudge-free and pine-scented as the rest of the building. The cleaning supplies on the shelf were even alphabetized.
    If Pastor Keith had seen Jack’s apartment, he might have thought twice about hiring him. But then again, Jack’s landlord wouldn’t have given him a break on the rent if fixing up the building hadn’t been part of the deal.
    The toe of Jack’s boot bumped into something on the floor. A box filled with plastic trophies that he guessed had something to do with the church picnic.
    And so did the line of new Post-it notes that papered the wall.
    He recognized Evie’s neat handwriting on each one. Tent rental. Booths for carnival games. Bunting. Grills.
    Pastor Keith had recommended that Jack talk to Evie if he had any questions.
    Well, he did.
    And none of them would fit on a Post-it note.

C HAPTER 10
    E vie had been the director of women’s ministries for so long she knew the exact order in which her team of volunteers would arrive for their bimonthly meeting.
    Sonya Olson and Jill Claremont rode together but parted company in the foyer—Sonya to chat with Pauline, who happened to be her first cousin, and Jill to check her lipstick in the restroom mirror. Belinda Mullins inevitably bolted through the door ten seconds before Evie opened the meeting in prayer, the hem of her denim jumper flapping against her ankles, patchwork bag dragging across the floor like a loose tailpipe. While everyone bowed their heads, Belinda would be plumbing the depths of the bag to retrieve a pen that seemed equally determined to elude capture.
    But this Monday morning, Evie was the one running late.
    Cody had called while she and Diva were taking their morning walk.
    â€œHey, Mom! Miss me?”
    â€œDo I miss you?” Evie pretended to mull that over. “Mmm. No dishes in the sink. No wet towels on the bathroom floor. No shoes in the front hall.”
    â€œSo, yes?”
    Evie closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in Cody’s laughter like a warm summer rain. “Yes.”
    â€œRaine and I will be back on Saturday