He’d texted Cynthia to let her know which pew he was in but wondered if she would sit with her family. She had not replied by the time they stood to sing the single chorus for the call to worship. As he sat down, he smelled the faint scent of lavender and glanced over as Cynthia slid into the pew next to him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she whispered. “Slept in.”

He nodded. “Slept?”

With a wide grin she said, “Six full hours and no nightmares.”

“Then you are completely forgiven.”

After someone welcomed them from the podium, the congregation stood to sing. While the instrumentalists played the opening chords, he leaned close to her and put his lips near her ear. “Maybe we need to have dinner every night.”

She looked up at him, and he saw the red flush across her cheeks. Then she winked and smiled and started singing.

For the last six months, the closest thing he’d gotten to a church service was with the chaplain in a tent. He liked worshiping in a 150-year-old building, a place where generations of followers of Christ had gotten married, raised their children, fellowshipped together, and prayed together. He wanted to dig into the records of the church and discover any hidden gems. History inspired and encouraged him and helped him see the world through different eyes. He loved the fact that churchgoers and church planters had provided the foundation for building this country.

Cynthia’s uncle preached a solid sermon. It held no surprises, but it also didn’t contradict Rick’s own faith. The man was obviously intelligent and spoke as if he was having a conversation instead of lecturing from a podium.

When the service ended, Cynthia turned to face him. “I’d love for you to meet my uncle. Do you mind waiting?”

He shook his head. “I’m happy to wait.”

It didn’t take long for the church to empty. Soon, her uncle approached and held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Nathaniel Myers. My niece told me you would be joining us today.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Rick.”

Nathaniel put a hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. “Cynthia told me about what happened in Katangela. Our family owes your team a great debt.”

Praise like that always made him feel the need to fidget and dismiss it. “No, sir. I just appreciate the ability to do a job and the talent to do it well.”

Her uncle laughed and slapped him on the back. “Join us for lunch.”

He glanced at Cynthia, who smiled broadly. “I would enjoy that.”

“Frances always cooks a chicken on Friday and leaves it in my refrigerator. So we have cold chicken and potato salad. It’s nice out. Why don’t you guys meet me in the parsonage yard?”

“You don’t need any help?” Cynthia asked.

“Nope. Go enjoy the trees.”