Page 25 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“She still feels bad.”
Guilt panged. He really should’ve followed up his apology with something better than another ticking off about her horrible hedge cutting. He’d tried to make amends by shearing it properly himself. Not that he’d ever admit that, and the only witness to his good deed—old Joe Banks—he’d sworn to secrecy.
“Come on, Liam,” George wheedled. “She’s exactly what this place needs. She’s exactly whatyouneed.” She leaned over and poked him in the side.
“Ow.” He frowned at her. “Obviously all that study has frazzled your brain.”
“I mean it. Did you know that she’s a history teacher?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t do that.” She poked him again, harder this time. “She cares about the community—”
“And just how do you know all this? What would you know?”
“What wouldyouknow, more like it,” she challenged. “Have you ever actually spoken to the woman?”
“Several times.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not quite the monster she seems to think.”
“She didn’t say you were a monster,” George murmured. “Just …”
“Just what?”
“Just that you were cranky. ‘Pretty cranky’ I think was the actual phrase.”
He sighed. “I did apologize at church.”
“She’s a Christian too.”
“Not everyone who goes to church is a Christian, George.”
“Thank you, Reverend Liam. I know that. No, she told me so. Unprompted. She used to run a Bible study for the students at her school.”
She had? That was … impressive.
“I like her,” George said defiantly.
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“You should give her a second chance. In fact, you should give Veronica’s suggestion a second chance.”
“No.”
“Why not? You should’ve heard her. She was at the confetti farm today and suggested something like that would be a wonderful use of the empty fields that old Farmer Thompson doesn’t rent anymore.”
“Confetti farm?”
“You know, flower petal confetti. It’s all the rage at weddings these days.”
“So she’s an expert in flower farm management as well, is she?”
“I don’t know why you have to be so negative all the time,” she complained.
Because negativity was a habit that was hard to break. These days his faith consisted in hope for heaven when he died, and for not much else. God might love him, but God’s blessings felt distant, like a star that one would never touch. He’d made too many wrong choices to ever feel secure that God’s love was still warranted.
