Stuck in the Middle (16 page)

“I don’t remember seeing that before.” Joan tried to filter a sudden flare of jealousy out of her tone. “Is it new?”

Pink stained Tori’s fair cheeks as she looked down. “Well . . .”

“I thought so.” Joan glanced at her reflection once more, to reassure herself that she looked good too. Good enough to take Ken’s attention away from her adorable little sister? She ran a hand down the gathered fabric at her side and allowed a faint smile to steal onto her face. Maybe.

“I thought I heard Tori’s voice.” Mom stepped through the doorway, stopping to stare when she caught sight of them. “My goodness. You both look beautiful.”

Tori dimpled and pirouetted. “Do you like it?”

“A lot.” Mom’s gaze slid to Joan, registering approval. “And that’s a gorgeous dress too, honey. You two look like you’re ready for a homecoming dance, not church.”

Tori stepped up to stand beside Joan, and together they turned toward the mirror. Their reflections stared back at them, two completely different women, two completely different styles. One dainty and petite, the other tall and athletic. One blonde, one brunette. One stylish and fashionable, and one . . . Joan grinned.
Two
stylish and fashionable.

Mom stepped up behind them, taller than either one. Tiny lines at the corners of her mouth strained her smile. Joan remembered her words last night. She was worried that Ken would cause a rift between her girls. Seeing the determination on Tori’s face, and feeling a matching sensation in herself, Joan couldn’t deny the possibility.

Mom put a hand on each of their shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “When you two walk into the room, Ken Fletcher won’t know what hit him.”

Not only Ken Fletcher, apparently.

Sitting in the pew between Gram and Ken, Joan felt the imaginary heat from a dozen pairs of eyes boring into the back of her head. If she wondered whether she had achieved her goal in the looks department this morning, all she had to do was catch the eye of any man under the age of ninety. Being the focus of unconcealed male admiration was a new experience for her, and not at all unpleasant. Not that she was interested in anyone here. Most of the guys her age were friends of Roger’s. Blech.

Unfortunately, the dress didn’t seem to have the desired effect on her target. After an initial compliment, Ken’s attention had been focused elsewhere since they stepped through the door of Christ Community Church. Joan’s only consolation was that he appeared equally unimpressed by Tori. And her baby sister didn’t like it one bit.

In fact, at the moment he had apparently forgotten about the two beautiful babes flanking him in the pew. Instead, he seemed intent on memorizing Rev. Jacobsen’s every word. She had never seen anyone pay such close attention to a sermon. He even removed a thin notebook from his Bible cover when the service began, and appeared ready to take notes. So far, though, he hadn’t written anything beyond the title of the sermon in a typical doctor’s scrawl—practically unreadable.

Joan leaned backward to look at Tori behind Ken’s head. Her sister met her gaze and raised one eyebrow as though to say, “What gives with this guy?”

Joan had no answer.

Sunday school had been . . . interesting. To be sure, the Sanderson sisters made a splash when they walked through the door with the hottest young doctor in town. A simultaneous sigh rose from the throat of every female in the room, and Brittany Daniels dropped the lipstick she was applying. A few male eyeballs popped as well, and Ryan Adams tripped over his own feet and spilled his coffee when he jumped up out of his chair. Joan felt like part of the Tremendous Trio, even though she suspected Ryan was staring at Tori and not her.

Mr. Carmichael taught from a lesson book, the one used by every church in their denomination in the entire district. This week’s lesson was about the importance of finding a place of service in the local congregation. They’d settled into their chairs, and Joan was trying, as always, to figure out whether Mr. Carmichael’s hair was a wig or just a really bad dye job, when Ken raised his hand to ask a question.

Every head in the room swiveled in their direction. Mr. Carmichael stopped midsentence and stared, dumbfounded. No one ever interrupted him to ask a question. It wasn’t
that
kind of Sunday school class.

That Ken wasn’t impressed with Sunday school had been obvious from his polite expression while Mr. Carmichael fumbled to come up with an answer to his question about spiritual gifts. He remained silent through the rest of the class.

At least the sermon was pretty good this morning. Joan cast a furtive glance sideways, trying to gauge from the look on his face what Ken thought of Rev. Jacobsen. Faint creases appeared between his brows. Could be concentration. Or maybe disagreement.

At the front of the sanctuary, Rev. Jacobsen signaled the wrap-up of his message by intoning, “In conclusion . . .”

During the two-minute summarization of his points, Gram reached for her hymnal, as did many others in the congregation. Ken looked around, his lips tightening. Joan followed his gaze. Very few people were paying any attention whatsoever to the minister. She felt slightly embarrassed when Ken slipped the notebook back into his Bible cover with a soft sigh. Apparently he hadn’t heard anything worth writing down. Judging by the bland expression on his face, he wasn’t any more impressed with the worship service than with Sunday school.

Her grip on the songbook tightened. Why did she feel like she was being judged by the quality of the church she attended? And like she had been found wanting?

The car ride back to the house was awkwardly quiet. Ken had opted to ride with them and leave his car at home, which thrilled Joan at the time but now didn’t seem like such a good idea. She needed some time alone to gather her thoughts. Instead, she sat squashed against the door in Mom’s Camry, acutely aware of the heat Ken’s thigh generated where it touched hers in the tight quarters of the backseat. And painfully aware that his other thigh was generating similar heat for Tori.

“So, Ken,” Tori asked, cocking her head prettily, “what did you think?”

Ken wet his lips and kept his eyes forward. “It was . . . nice,” he said in a voice that meant the exact opposite.

“Was it very different from your church?” Mom asked. Ken gave a brief smile. “Very. My home church in Indiana is much less formal. Chairs instead of pews, the words to the songs projected onto a big screen. We don’t even have a choir.”

Up front in the passenger seat, Gram turned her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t like that. I love a good choir.”

“Our pastor’s messages are different too,” he went on. “Much less, uh, polished, I guess. But he speaks from the heart, and he really makes me want to live out my faith.”

Joan and Tori exchanged a glance, and then Tori turned her head to stare out the window. Joan felt awkward, uncomfortable. Live out his faith, he said. What exactly did that mean?

She looked out the window as the car pulled onto Elmtree Drive. No doubt Mrs. Sachs knew what that meant. The missionary and Ken, though they had never met, shared something, some kind of real connection to God.

It was a little scary.

Gram changed the subject just as the silence in the car threatened to become uncomfortable. “I hope you’ll join us for Sunday dinner. We’re having a chicken and rice casserole, one of my specialties.”

Mom steered the car into their driveway as Ken answered. “Thanks for the invitation, but my sister will be here in a couple of hours, and I’ve got a ton of paperwork to get done before she arrives.”

And that, as they say, is that.

Disappointment settled on Joan like a physical wave. All that effort, all that money for clothes, wasted. He wasn’t impressed enough with either of them to want to stay for lunch. She exchanged another glance with Tori, whose eyeballs swept upward before she turned away.

The car glided to a stop, and they all got out. They moved as a group toward the house, pausing at the front porch to say goodbye to Ken.

He nodded first at Gram, and then Mom. “Thanks for the invitation, ladies. Maybe next time I can stay for lunch.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” Gram patted his arm.

He glanced at Tori. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too, Ken.” Her smile was polite, but not, Joan noted, at all flirty.

His gaze shifted to Joan. Maybe her imagination was working overtime, but she thought his smile deepened as he gazed into her eyes. Her pulse did a rumba and she forgot to count how many seconds he held the eye contact. It was a long time, though.

“See you soon?”

She swallowed. “Sure.”

Then he was gone, crossing the grass toward his house. As he reached his front door, Eric’s pickup pulled into the driveway and parked behind Mom’s car. Allie jumped out of the passenger side and crossed to the place where they stood waiting. She dipped her head in the direction of Ken’s place just as his door closed. “Did you girls scare him off again?”

Mom laughed. “No, I think he was properly impressed with both your sisters. Unfortunately, our church didn’t seem to thrill him.”

“He’s used to a different style of service.” Gram defended him loyally. “He didn’t feel comfortable with ours. I could tell.”

“I have an announcement,” Tori said as Eric joined them. She looked at Joan, her eyebrows high. “You, dear sister, can have him. I’m out.”

Joan ignored Allie’s jubilant glance. For some reason, she didn’t feel the triumph she thought she would at Tori’s declaration. Winning by concession wasn’t the same as being chosen.

“Why?” she asked, narrowing her eyelids.

Tori shook her head. “Frankly, I’m not interested in going out with a religious fanatic, even if he is a doctor. The next thing you know he’ll be inviting us to a snake-handling service or something.”

She gave a delicate shudder as Eric let out a belly laugh.

Unease stirred in Joan as she followed her family into the house. She glanced next door. Ken was definitely more religious than any of the Sandersons. Did she want to get mixed up with a fanatic, even a gorgeous one?

Ken sat at the desk in his bedroom, his full focus on the computer screen, when the doorbell rang. Trigger leaped up from the floor beside Ken’s bed and ran from the room, barking.

A familiar voice echoed through the house. “Anyone home?”

“I’m in here, Karen.”

He clicked the Save button and exited the software. His back ached as he stood and stretched sore muscles. The past three hours had been spent transcribing his rather terse treatment notes. If he was going to make a habit of bringing work home, he should probably spring for a real desk chair instead of the lopsided white plastic one he rescued from the dumpster at his last apartment.

“Down, you monster!” From the sound of her voice, Karen didn’t think much of Trigger’s enthusiastic greeting. “Ken, get in here and call off your mutt.”

Ken jogged down the short hallway. He stopped just inside the living room, laughing at the sight of his sister, halfway through the doorway, trying to hold an excited Trigger at bay. The dog stood on his hind legs, supported by Karen’s restraining hand on his chest. Nineteen-month-old Jordan, laughing with delight, twisted on his mother’s hip to grab at the dog’s flailing front paws.

“Don’t just stand there.” Karen’s green eyes threatened death if he didn’t move quickly. “Rescue us!”

Ken hauled Trigger off by the collar and set him down on the floor. He held on for a minute and said, “Down,” in a deep tone like the book instructed. They’d worked on this command. At the sound of his voice, Trigger’s muscles relaxed a fraction. When Ken released the collar, the dog rushed once again toward the newcomers, tail wagging like crazy, but at least he kept all four paws on the floor.

“Gosh, look how that mongrel has grown! What are you feeding him, elephant food?”

“Hey, don’t call my dog a mongrel. You picked him out, after all.”

Ken grinned at his sister. Her dark hair was a little longer than the last time he saw her, and her skin glowed with a healthy summer tan. She looked good. Happy. And his nephew had grown at least a couple of inches in the past month.

He enveloped them both in a hug. “Glad to see you, sis. You made good time.”