Page 11 of A Surefire Love
He meant to go change out of his sweaty clothes, but the path to the locker room took him by Sydney’s office. As the director of the community center, she often closed her door for meetings, but today it stood open. She sat behind her desk. Her brown eyes glanced up from the computer when he paused at her doorway.
A smile lifted her lips as she rose. “Hero’s a nice look on you, Marsh.”
The compliment surprised a laugh from him. “Hero?”
Sydney motioned him forward and shut the door behind him, closing them in together. “You would’ve made a good firefighter, carrying damsels in distress from burning buildings.” She traced her fingers down his biceps.
“I see.” If only he hadn’t been close enough to help because he’d owed Mercy an apology. “There’s more to firefighting than that.”
“Still.” She smoothed her hands over his chest and peered up at him.
His damp shirt stuck to his skin, and her pressing it in felt like cuddling up with a wet blanket. No way he wanted that in the middle of an embrace. He took her hands in his own, but his palms felt slick too. Definitely should’ve stopped by the locker room first.
“I’m sorry we ended up getting pulled different directions, thanks to the whole Jimmy thing.” She squeezed his hands. “Have you heard from Blaze about how Mercy is?”
“I texted this morning, but she hasn’t replied. She might be under the impression I don’t think she’s a good guardian for her sister.”
Sydney’s mouth dropped open like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or gasp. “Why?”
“Let’s just say my meeting with Eric yesterday wasn’t the only train wreck. Anyway”—he kissed Sydney’s forehead—“how’d it go with Honor? When I got back inside, you looked pretty deep in conversation.”
She turned her face down as she stepped back. “Honor felt guilty, and I don’t think she believed me when I assured her she wasn’t responsible for Jimmy’s choices.”
“All we can do is try. And pray.”
She gave a sympathetic smile. “As if you’re any good at not interfering either.”
“Fair enough.”
“Did Gabby have any good ideas for you about how to deal with Eric?”
To give Sydney and Honor space last night, Anson had found a seat with Gabby Voss, his high school basketball coach’s widow. She often served as a sounding board for him, but drama with the leadership board was tricky. Gabby had plans to move away in a couple of months, but for the time being, she was a member of the congregation.
“I didn’t bring it up. I don’t want to stir anything up if Eric’s out of step with the board. Greg will be in the office tomorrow. I’ll talk to him then.” The senior pastor was a reasonable man with a heart for God. He wouldn’t let the church succumb to a comparison trap.
Anson stepped toward the door, then paused. “Speaking of the youth groups, what do you think of Blaze as a leader for Rooted?”
Sydney shrugged. “She’s a member, right?”
He nodded. To join, Blaze would’ve shared her testimony and agreed to the church’s statement of beliefs. “Beyond that, she’s never been very involved, aside from attending services. Even then, she’s always late, and she doodles her way through sermons.”
Sydney smiled. “Yours or Pastor Greg’s?”
“Both.”
“Then it’s nothing personal.” Her light tone spoke volumes. “Drawing doesn’t mean she’s not listening, and it’s not like she’d be teaching the lessons as a youth leader.”
“She might end up in conversations with students, though.”
“Rooted leaders don’t meet up with students outside of youth group, so you’ll be close by if she needs help with something tricky. Besides, you and Nolan could use a female leader on the team. And you’re already stretching your ratio. If you do grow the group, more leaders are a must.”
Sydney was right. Anson preferred to have one leader for every four students, and the middle school group brought in eight to ten kids every week.
“Plus, around Many Oaks, Blaze is almost as much of a celebrity as Philip or Michaela. The girls will look up to her. Who knows? Having her around might solve your attendance problem without you lifting a finger.”
“I don’t think she carries that much pull.”
Sydney arched an eyebrow. “She gets all of us to The Depot every week.” Before Anson acknowledged the validity of the point, her phone rang.
