Page 92 of A Surefire Love
“What ministry?” Nolan demanded. “They’re ruining it. And what are you going to do for work?”
Excellent question. He wasn’t qualified for much besides coaching and pastoring, and he wouldn’t find a full-time job in either role in Many Oaks. He rested his hand on the cold metal bar on the door. “I’m not sure yet, but God will provide for me and the church.” The statement still didn’t feel one-hundred percent true, but he knew it was. If he kept saying it, hopefully it’d sink in. “I don’t think He’s going to let the ministry die. I’d appreciate it if you’d help keep it alive, unless you’re confident you’re being called somewhere else.”
“You don’t think all this is a sign?”
“Responses trump reactions.”
Nolan grunted. “How am I supposed torespond,Coach?”
“Take it slow and pray. Let God work. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“We can’t take it too slow. They want to know who’s going to lead Rooted by Wednesday so we can start up again next week. You really want me and Blaze taking over without you?”
“I trust you both.”
Nolan exhaled heavily. “Fine. But I don’t like it.”
“Me neither.”
When they ended the call, Anson’s bag of equipment felt twice as heavy as he shouldered through the door and into the lot. He’d head home and pass the time until Blaze’s show browsing job listings. Or not. Just walking to his car drained his energy. It seemed he’d finally exhausted himself.
Footsteps slapped the concrete behind him. “Pastor Anson! Hey!” The runner pounded to a stop at his side.
Anson shifted his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. “Dylan. What are you still doing here?”
“I’m a stagehand for the musical. And, unlike my brother, I didn’t bail.”
That’s right. Carter had volunteered for the theater department to clear his suspension. “Why did he join the crew if he wasn’t planning to go out for basketball?”
Dylan shrugged. “Maybe he thinks I’m cooler than he lets on and he wanted to hang out with me.”
Anson had to smile. “That must be it.”
“He acts like he can’t stand me, but …” His shoulders rose again. “He’s actually not the worst.”
Anson chuckled. “High praise.”
“Hey. So.” Dylan pulled his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie. “What’s the deal with the fire? You went when my dad texted, right?”
“I did.” Eric had been at the scene, but he never explained why he’d texted Anson and then failed to invite him to the leadership meeting.
“I heard it was an accident.”
“That was the theory, the last I heard.” Presumably the investigation was underway.
“You ever figure out who was on the camera? You have video of the person?”
The question confirmed one of Anson’s suspicions—that nothing about the fire was secret. At least not from the students. Dylan might’ve heard something the adults hadn’t, though. “Who do you think might be in the video?”
“How would I know? I just heard you had a picture. My mom says I’m nosy.” His face lit. “It could be Silas. He’s kind of weird. I bet he likes to play with fire.”
“Silas is introverted, not weird.”
Dylan wagged a sleeve-covered arm at him. “You can never trust the quiet ones.”
Anson dismissed the accusation with a head shake. “I turned the video over so it can be used in the investigation.”
The humor disappeared from Dylan’s face. “I suppose you had to.” His forehead wrinkled. “So, why can’t we have youth group this week? I heard the youth room is fine.”
