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sense—and the real reason for attending church. Worship needed her full attention.
    “Are you coming?” Marta asked.
    Alina swung a confused glance at Marta, then at Fred.
    “Where?”
    “Church. Are you all right?” Marta asked. “Sure. My mind was wandering.”
    Fred chuckled, and it irritated Alina. It irritated her very much.
    Once inside the small red-brick church, Alina settled into the pew beside Marta and Fred. She glanced around at the familiar surroundings: the stained-glass windows that had been there since the church was built in 1928, the cross suspended from the ceiling, the organ on one side and the piano on the other. Each item represented importance to the Sunday worship, but the most important ingredients were the worshipers and God.
    Tears streamed down her face as fast as she could whisk them away. Marta placed her hand atop hers, but Alina dare not look her way.
    “Things will work out.” Marta leaned toward her. “Fred has connections within the industry that can help you find another job.”
    Alina nodded, afraid to speak for fear she’d dissolve into a pool of tears. Her sweet friend believed the emotion stemmed from the upheaval at Flash, and perhaps that was best for now. But Alina knew her tears came from her relationship with Ryan. God wanted her to state the truth, but she couldn’t do it—not now or ever. And the knowledge made her miserable. Granted, the situation at Flash had upset her, but she’d find another job. The circumstances between her and Ryan, though, wouldn’t have a good ending. Once they completed the transition, he’d go back to his world, and she’d stumble back to hers. All she’d have left was a dusty box of memorabilia and more regrets than she had before.
    God, please help me be strong. I keep making one mistake after another, and I’m not glorifying You. Help me to be You when I deal with Ryan. Is it possible to be his friend and not feel this horrible ache in my heart? I’m sorry for my caustic words. I really need You to guide me through this
.

    Monday, 8:00 p.m
.
    Ryan sorted through the deluge of e-mail. One day of not checking his mailbox, and every member of Neon had to copy him on a post or request information. In addition, many of the personnel worked via e-mail on Sundays. Ryan vowed a long time ago to keep the Lord’s Day free from work. Sometimes he traveled on Sundays, but he made it a point to avoid working—not to be legalistic but to show reverence for the day. He’d been invited to attend church with Fred and his wife yesterday, but he attended a different one to avoid Alina. He hadn’t figured out if that decision was godly or not. When he’d thought about it long enough, he realized if his presence upset Alina, then it was best he stay away.
    He continued to collect e-mails; the number pushed at the one hundred mark.
Nice to be needed, but today the idea of hibernation has a lot of merit. This onslaught of messages must be why I haven’t dared take a vacation since I started working for Neon
. Today’s meetings in Columbus had been routine except for a closed session with some of the top executives.
    “We want to reiterate how much we want you as part of the team here in Columbus,” the chairman of the board said. “You have the communication skills necessary to head up a division that would act as a liaison between the needs of the acquired smaller companies and the parent company. You’re a great team player, an asset for any corporation. As a VP, you’d have very little travel and a substantial pay increase.”
    “I appreciate your offer, and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” Ryan said. He should have said he’d been praying about the offer, but he refrained.
    “We need an answer by mid-April. Although we don’t want to look for another person to fill the position, we will need time if you choose not to accept the job.”
    Stress and pressure. Just what he needed on top of everything else clouding his mind.