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say “Thanks.”
    She glanced down at their hands, still together.
    He pulled away, even though he didn’t want to. He could hold her hand forever. He searched his mind for more words, but he couldn’t think of anything.
    She came to his rescue. “I work with the audiovisual team, so if there’s anything I can do to help you get settled, let me know.”
    Again, he wanted to say more than “Thanks.”
    Again, she was the one to free him from the silence. “You know what,” she began, “do you have any time now? There’s something I’d like to ask you. And if you’re free…we could do brunch.”
    Hosea wanted to turn around to see who was watching. Surely, this was some kind of ministerial hazing. Why would this woman who should be gracing the cover of fashion magazines ask him to go out on his first Sunday at the church? But within the hour, he was sitting across from her at Oceanique.
    “Are you from Chicago?” he asked.
    “Lived here all my life,” she said between bites of her pasta. “Only left once—to study in London.”
    “College?”
    “Kind of. I went to undergrad here at the University of Chicago. Then I went to Oxford.”
    “Ah.” Hosea sat back. “A Rhodes Scholar.”
    She shrugged, as if she were embarrassed.
    “I’m impressed.”
    “Don’t be.”
    But he already was. Beauty and brains. And, she was a Christian, wasn’t she? His hope was rising. He asked, “How long have you been going to Crystal Lake Cathedral?”
    “A couple of years. When my fiancé moved to Chicago…”
    It was hard to listen to more after the word “fiancé” sucked the air from his hope.
    “Your fiancé?”
    She nodded. “I’m engaged.”
    Only then did he notice. The ring. It was an itty-bitty thing. Too small to sparkle or shine. A man trying to claim this woman as his own should have covered her with diamonds. At least that’s what he would have done.
    She said, “I wanted to talk about your newspaper.”
    That’s what this is about.
    “I’m a producer on the NBC morning show and I’ve been looking for projects for our cable stations.”
    For the next hour, she told him her thoughts of using the newspaper The Christian Times, where he was editor, as the format for a talk show. But he’d had difficulty concentrating as he watched her lips move.
    Why are you engaged? was what he wanted to ask her.
    Finally, he agreed to give her proposal some thought.
    Outside the restaurant, she handed him her card. “I’ll be looking to hear from you.”
    He hailed a cab, held the door while she slid inside, then he watched the car roll away before he walked in the opposite direction. It was good that only God knew his thoughts.
    But something had come out of that brunch. It had been five years since his mother had passed and for most of that time, he’d lived as a monk.
    Then today, Natasia had stirred thoughts and feelings that he’d almost forgotten. Maybe God was telling him to get back into this game called life, and Natasia was God’s messenger…
    “I’m ready if you are.”
    Hosea turned from the window and his memories. Automatically smiled when he looked at her. It may have been the end of the workday, but Natasia looked as fresh as the morning. Her lips gleamed with gloss and she glowed as if she’d just come from the beach.
    He glanced at his watch. “It’s only five-thirty.”
    “I finished early and thought we could have drinks before dinner. So,” she continued as she moved toward him, “I made reservations and ordered a car.”
    “We could’ve caught a cab.”
    Natasia sighed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
    “Oh, I’m very different.” He made sure he was looking into her eyes. “I’m a husband and a father now.”
    She paused, nodded slightly. “But in every other way, you’re the same.” His face spread with surprise when she adjusted his shirt collar. “You’re a star now, sweetie. You should act like one.”
    Gently, he pushed her hands away. “Natasia, you