Page 9 of Preacher Man
As the words echoed off the wood-paneled walls and weathered hymnals, I thought of every time I’d felt unwelcome in a church.Every sideways glance.Every sermon about sin that danced around people like me.And yet here I stood, behind a pulpit I wasn’t supposed to touch, speaking of love and mercy, with Jake Mercer watching from the back row like he knew every secret I’d ever held in my heart.
“Deliver us from evil.Amen.”
A beat of silence.
Then I looked out again.
“It is now time,” I announced, “for the Eucharist.”
* * *
The sanctuary emptied faster than I thought possible.One minute I was standing at the altar, stacking the Communion cups back on the tray, and the next… gone.Everyone.Just—poof.Vanished, like they’d been waiting for an excuse to escape.
Well, except Jake.
He was still planted in the same back pew, long legs stretched out in front of him, arms slung over the back like he owned the place.Watching me.
I didn’t know what to make of that.
Technically, it was potluck Sunday.Fellowship hall, lukewarm casseroles, and conversations I had no energy to fake my way through.I’d been dreading it since I saw the flyer tacked to the office corkboard, with its Comic Sans heading and clip-art of a chicken leg.
I knew I should’ve been grateful people were bringing food.Grateful they even had a potluck, considering how poor I was.But right now, it just felt like walking into a room where I already didn’t belong.
And judging by how fast they’d scattered, I had a sneaking suspicion they felt the same.My chest tightened, and I tried to shake it off.
Maybe I was doing something wrong.Maybe I’d come on too strong with the sermon.Or not strong enough?Should I have picked something safer?Talked about gratitude or obedience or whatever that weird thing was about oxen in Leviticus?
I rubbed the back of my neck, then looked toward the rear pew.
Jake still hadn’t moved.
I gave him a small wave.“Hey.”
He stood slowly, stretched a bit.That flannel shirt he wore pulled tight across his chest and biceps, and I had to remind myself to breathe like a normal person.
“Do I smell like limburger cheese or something?”I muttered.
Jake’s brow rose, and I froze.Crap.Did I say that out loud?
A slow smile spread across his face, and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Unless you’re damning someone or something,” he said, “these folks want nothing to do with it.”
I blinked at him.“Wait… you’re serious?”
Jake started walking up the aisle toward me.“Dead serious.”
We exited the sanctuary together, his boots clunking gently against the old floorboards as the doors creaked open.Outside, the light was too bright, the air a little too thick.I heard the faint sounds of chairs scraping and silverware clinking from the fellowship hall.
I didn’t move to go there.Neither did he.
“Your sermon?”Jake said, glancing sideways at me.“It was the best I’ve ever heard here.Not that I go all that often.”
I stopped walking.“Are you serious?”
His gaze flicked toward mine, and I instantly regretted asking.“Sorry,” I added.“That came out… wrong.”
Jake shrugged.“You’re not wrong to ask.Most people assume I’m just here to patch up drywall and change lightbulbs.”
