Jake in case heâd come in while she was talking. But he wasnât there.
Her shoulders drooped. Had he had a bad night? An infant would certainly make getting ready difficult. Or maybe he didnât attend regularly.
Whatever the reason for his absence, she could still check out possible women in the congregation who could help him with Abigail. As the organist played a prelude, Violet scoped out the room. There were definitely a few young mothers she could try to meet to feel them out, see if they might be available.
Five minutes into the service as the pastor was making announcements, the door behind Violet opened. Maybe it was Jake. Her neck muscles tensed.
She glanced back, and sure enough, Jake was headed down the center aisle wearing khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He carried Abigailâs car seat as if it didnât weigh a pound.
Though his beard was neatly trimmed and his hair was freshly washed, the man looked tired. Harried. And he was obviously late.
Had he had trouble giving Abigail a bath? Had they not gotten any sleep last night? Could there be something wrong with Abigail that Violet had missed?
She snapped her attention back to the front of the church and crossed her arms, her teeth clamped tightly together. Jake was a grown man. She shouldnât worry so much.
Jake slid in the other end of her rowâ
her row
, of all places. As he set the carrier on the seat beside him, she tried not to stare. Had he spotted her?
She needed to face the front and concentrate on worshipping.
Yet part of the way through the service, when they stood to sing a hymn, she found herself looking over to check on Abigail. Once she realized she couldnât get a clear view of the baby, her gaze wandered upward.
Jakeâs gaze locked with hers. He didnât crack a smile or spare a wave. The man was used to being the boss at the work site, the one checking up on others. He apparently didnât like thinking someone might be checking up on him.
Well, that was too bad. She wiggled her fingers at him in a friendly wave.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment and then turned back to his hymnbook, singing along until the song came to a close.
Always good at blocking out distractions, Violet sat and tuned in to the pastorâs sermon. When he began to preach about the prodigal son, she stilled.
Seriously?
Had God whispered in Pastor Greerâs ear that a wayward believer would show up in need of a good talking-to?
No one in the sanctuary could possibly know how convicted she felt, but Violetâs face burned in shame at how sheâd tossed aside her faith for more than a decade. Ever since the day fourteen years ago when that little pregnancy test stick had turned positive, when her prayers for help had gone unanswered.
Though Violet wondered if maybe God had been the one to nudge her to come today, she still couldnât bring herself to pray. God probably didnât care to hear from her.
Abigail whimpered. A second whimper cranked up to a good cry, distracting Violet from the message. At the moment, she welcomed the distraction.
Jake looked a bit panicky, rifling through the diaper bag, then popping a pacifier in the babyâs mouth.
Apparently, she spit it out because the crying kicked up a notch.
Maybe Violet should scoot over to help.
Jake unhooked the car seat straps and lifted Abigail out, his movements rushed and awkward. Tough to be calm and collected when everyone around was beginning to stare. Even if they were smiling.
He bounced Abigail in his arms, but she wouldnât be consoled.
Violet moved an inch and stopped. Would he think she was interfering?
People turned to look at Jake. He grabbed a bottle and impressed Violet with how quickly he popped it into Abigailâs mouth. But she refused it and continued to squall.
With stomach tensing, Violet leaned forward, ready to spring over beside Jake.
Grace Hunt rose from her seat.