For the Least of These Read online

  For the Least

  of These

  Mystery

  and the Minister’s Wife

  Through the Fire

  A State of Grace

  Beauty Shop Tales

  A Test of Faith

  The Best Is Yet to Be

  Angels Undercover

  Into the Wilderness

  Where There’s a Will

  Dog Days

  The Missing Ingredient

  Open Arms

  A Token of Truth

  Who’s That Girl?

  For the Least of These

  A Matter of Trust

  Funny Money

  To Have and to Hold

  How the Heart Runs

  A Thousand Generations

  Home to Briar Mountain

  Flight of the Sparrows

  A Firm Foundation

  Off the Record

  A Distant Memory

  Tea and Sympathy

  The Master’s Hand

  Strangers in Their Midst

  Mystery and the Minister’s Wife is a registered trademark of Guideposts.

  Copyright © 2008 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the Rights & Permissions Department, Guideposts, 110 William Street, New York, New York 10038.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.

  Guideposts.org

  (800) 932-2145

  Guideposts Books & Inspirational Media

  Cover design by Dugan Design Group

  Cover illustration by Dan Brown

  Interior design by Cris Kossow

  Typeset by Nancy Tardi

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  A warm spring afternoon, and the hum of honeybees lured Kate Hanlon to her backyard. She’d always enjoyed gardening at her home in San Antonio, but since her husband, Paul, had been called to pastor Faith Briar Church in Copper Mill, Tennessee, her days had been so busy, she rarely found the time.

  Whoever claimed that the pace of life in a small town was slower than it was in the city had never lived in Copper Mill.

  But with every new challenge, both she and Paul thanked the Lord for leading them here. They’d made new friends who had deepened and enriched their lives, and they’d come to think of Copper Mill as their home.

  Dressed in an old T-shirt and jeans, with gardening gloves, a trowel, clippers, a weeding knife, and a rake in hand, Kate marched to the flower bed at the back of her small yard. Weeds had invaded the fertile patch of dark black Tennessee soil. Today she’d battle the advance of unwanted Indian grass and broomsedge and tame the indigo bush that had gone to stalk from neglect.

  To lay out what she hoped to accomplish, she’d drawn a diagram of the yard, including the large maple tree that shaded the house in summer. She planned to landscape with flowers and plants native to Tennessee—azaleas and rhododendrons would mark the shady corners of the yard. Blue phlox, sunflowers, and asters would provide a back-drop along the split-rail fence for bedding plants, such as petunias. She’d plant ferns in a perpetually shady area by the house, and she’d reserve one sunny spot for her beloved Texas bluebonnets.

  Once the flower beds were under control, she’d deal with restoring the lawn. She hoped by late summer she’d be able to host an outdoor tea for the church ladies back here.

  Working on her knees, she snipped back gangly indigo-bush branches and yanked up wayward grass by the roots. Beneath her straw gardening hat, beads of sweat formed and crept down her neck. She wiped her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. The leaves of the dogwood tree on the wooded hillside behind her yard rustled, but the cooling breeze failed to reach her.

  If Paul hadn’t been so busy with his pastoral duties, she would have asked for his help.

  Sitting back on her haunches, she took a deep breath and said a brief prayer. Perhaps she’d bitten off more than her fifty-seven-year-old body could—

  “Afternoon, ma’am.”

  Startled by the voice behind her, Kate lost her balance and plopped down on her rear end.

  She turned to see a girl of about thirteen standing in her yard. Her stringy blonde hair reached below the collar of her black T-shirt. There were ragged holes in both knees of her jeans. Somehow Kate didn’t think the holes were a youthful fashion statement, but rather a sign of hard use.

  “Hello, yourself.” Kate smiled while shifting to a more comfortable position.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” The girl’s accent carried the soft lilt of one born and bred in Appalachian country.

  “It’s all right. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear you coming.” She studied the youngster and wondered about her solemn expression. “Were you looking for Pastor Paul?”

  The girl scuffed the toe of her sneaker in the grass, a shoe that looked as worn as her jeans.

  “Not really, ma’am. I saw you workin’ out here and thought maybe you could use some help.” She looked up from the study of her shoes, her eyes pleading. “I’m a real hard worker, ma’am.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Kate was about to thank her for her offer and send her away, but another thought skittered through her brain. Lord, did you send this girl in answer to my prayer or hers?

  “You’re looking for a job?” Kate asked.

  The girl’s head bobbed up and down. “I’m stronger than I look, ma’am. You don’t have to pay me much, and I’ll do anything that needs doing.”

  “Well...” Kate got to her feet, her arthritic knee giving a twinge in the process. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” Removing her glove, she extended her hand. “I’m Kate Hanlon, the pastor’s wife.”

  A glimmer of hope sparked in the girl’s blue eyes. “Megan Maddock, ma’am.” She gave Kate’s hand two hearty pumps. “I live out Smoky Mountain Hollow way.”

  Kate had lived in Copper Mill long enough to know that some residents of the nearby hollows lived much as people had at the turn of the twentieth century and were still mired in poverty. She’d seen houses that were little more than shacks and families living in old, run-down trailers. She feared the Maddock family was one of those, and her heart went out to the girl.

  “Do you go to school, Megan?”

  “Sure do, ma’am. Seventh grade at Copper Mill Elementary School. Got me a prize last year for paintin’ the best safety poster for school.”

  “Congratulations.” Tickled by the girl’s pride in her accomplishment, Kate had to restrain an amused grin. “Then you’re just looking for work after school, right?”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am. I gotta be...My ma wants me home by dark.”

  “Good for her.” Kate looked at the remaining flower beds that needed to be cleared of weeds. “We’d better get started then.”

  They settled into the task, for the most part in companionable silence. Young Megan worked like a junior-sized steam shovel, digging out every encroaching root she could find in the flower bed and tossing it on the growing pile of discarded weeds. Kate couldn’t recall her own children working that hard in the yard, though to their credit, they’d done their chores without complaint. Usually.

  “Were you born here in Copper Mill?” Kate asked.

  “No, ma�
��am.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  Megan dug hard around a root-ball of grass. “A few years.”

  The girl certainly wasn’t a chatterbox. In fact, she didn’t seem very forthcoming in her answers, and Kate wondered why. Paul often reminded Kate that she’d find a mystery even where there wasn’t one, that she saw riddles that needed to be solved. Perhaps he was right. But her intuition was telling her something different.

  After about an hour, Kate knew she needed a break and imagined that Megan did too.

  “I think I’ll make a pitcher of lemonade. I’ve got some chocolate-chip cookies too. Would you like some, Megan?”

  The girl’s eyes widened, and the very first smile she’d bestowed on Kate teased at the corners of Megan’s lips.

  “That’d be real nice, ma’am.”

  Kate entered the house, then splashed some water on her face and ran a comb through her strawberry-blonde hair, which did little to repair the damage that had been done by wearing a hat.

  It took only a few minutes to mix up the lemonade and place a few cookies on a plate. Using a tray, she carried the refreshments and two glasses outside. Megan was still hard at work.

  “Come sit in the shade and cool off while you have your snack.” She placed the tray on the black wrought-iron patio table and sat down in one of the two matching chairs, then filled the two glasses with lemonade.

  Megan didn’t need a second invitation. Sweat dampened her T-shirt, which clung to her body as she took the chair opposite Kate. She noticed how truly thin Megan was as the girl consumed the entire glass of lemonade without taking a breath. That worried her.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” Kate slid the plate of cookies toward her.

  “Yes, ma’am. One of each. I’m the oldest.” Delicately, she selected a cookie and nibbled a bite. She grinned. “These are good.”

  “Help yourself to more if you’d like. I have plenty inside.”

  Megan eyed the three remaining cookies. Then, as carefully as she’d chosen the first one, she placed the cookies in a paper napkin and wrapped them up. Then she chugged down the second glass of lemonade Kate had poured for her.

  “Thanks for the cookies and lemonade, ma’am. I’ll get back to work now.”

  Megan placed her precious bundle of cookies on the grass next to where she was working and dove back into the task at hand.

  She was going to share those cookies with her siblings, Kate realized and smiled. Sweet child. But Megan troubled Kate too. She seemed so needy, her eyes pleading when she’d asked for a job, and so anxious to please.

  When it came time to pay her, Kate gave Megan a couple of extra dollars for her efforts beyond the hourly rate they’d agreed upon.

  With a look of delight, Megan stuffed the money into her pocket. “I’ll be back tomorrow right after school, ma’am, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Perfect. We still have lots of work to do.”

  As the girl jogged off down the road, Kate made a mental note to call on Megan and her family. She sensed they needed more help than a few extra dollars and a handful of cookies.

  “THERE’S NOTHING BETTER than to come home after a long day to my beautiful wife, who just happens to be fixing dinner,” Paul said as he slipped up behind Kate in the kitchen. She was putting together a ham, apple, and pecan salad at the counter when Paul slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled a kiss to her neck.

  “Hmm,” she said with a smile. “I’ll have you know, your wife has put in a pretty hard day of work herself.”

  She tilted her head to kiss him on the lips. It continued to amaze her that after nearly thirty years of marriage, she always felt a tingle of pleasure when Paul kissed her.

  He plucked a candied pecan from the salad and popped it in his mouth. “Hard at work making more stained-glass sun catchers?”

  “Not today. I’ve started on the backyard. I’m determined to have a flowering garden by late summer, so I can invite the ladies to tea.”

  “That’s a pretty big project to take on by yourself.” Without being asked, Paul got out silverware and place mats and carried them to the oak table on the other side of the kitchen counter. “I’ll try to find some time this week to help, but my schedule’s pretty full.”

  Though the kitchen was far smaller than Kate would have preferred, and the cupboards were a faded yellow, she had added her own touches, including a fine collection of Mauviel copperware, which hung on a rack from the ceiling.

  “Not to worry,” she said. “I’ve hired a helper.”

  Paul’s head snapped up from his task of setting the table. “Hired?”

  “She’s a hard worker.” Kate slipped a pan of whole-wheat rolls into the oven to heat.

  “Katie, honey, I’m not sure we can afford—”

  “She works cheap,” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes. “And she’s only thirteen years old.”

  Paul’s concerned expression evaporated, and he smiled. “A neighborhood youngster?”

  “Actually, no. She lives in the hollows, and I’m worried about her and her family.” Kate handed him two plates and filled their glasses with water as she told him about Megan Maddock.

  “It does sound like the girl’s family could use the extra money,” Paul said.

  “That’s what I thought too.” She slid the salad bowl across the counter for Paul. “We had some leftover ham from Sunday’s supper that I wanted to use up.”

  “Any dish that has your candied pecans in it is fine with me.”

  Carrying the plate of warm rolls to the dining area, Kate took her seat at the oak table that had been a part of their lives almost from the beginning. She remembered their children—Andrew, Melissa, and Rebecca—doing their homework at the table and cherished the memories of the family meals they’d all shared together.

  Though Paul’s hair was now salt-and-pepper gray, to Kate, he was still the young, handsome assistant minister who had swept her off her feet so many years ago in San Antonio. Now they were in Tennessee with a far smaller congregation than the one he’d ministered to in Texas, but no less happy than they’d been there.

  Paul lowered his head to say grace, and Kate added a silent prayer for Megan’s family.

  As they ate, Kate asked Paul about his day.

  “An older woman in Pine Ridge had a bad fall last night, and it looks like she’ll need hip surgery. I spent most of the afternoon trying to locate her daughter, who lives in Atlanta now.”

  “It’s so hard when your children move away.”

  “Hard on everybody.” He buttered his roll and took a bite. “I know our kids miss us.”

  “At least we talk to them often, but it’s still hard to have them so far away. And the grandchildren.”

  He nodded, agreeing with her sentiment. “Also, Saturday morning I’m meeting with Sam Gorman and some of the other merchants to finalize plans for Old Timer’s Day on the Town Green. We’ve only got three weeks to go until the event.”

  Samuel Gorman, owner of the local Mercantile as well as longtime church organist and choir director, had become one of Paul’s closest friend in Copper Mill.

  “There’ll be old-fashioned games for the children,” Paul continued. “Hoop rolling and three-legged races, kite flying, and prizes for the best-decorated kites.”

  “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “Steve Smith is going to organize a booth to sell Appalachian crafts. You think he’ll want to display some of your stained-glass pieces?”

  “I’ll ask him, although stained glass isn’t a typical Appalachian craft.”

  “I’m sure he’ll stretch the point for you.”

  Steve had been kind enough to take some of her stained glass on consignment at his shop, Smith Street Gifts. She’d been more than pleased with the number of pieces that had sold so far.

  “There’ll be food booths too,” Paul said. “I was thinking the church ladies might want to have a bake sale to raise money for the Faith Freez
er Program.”

  “I’m sure they’ll want to. We’re always running short of donations. We do have a lot of excellent cooks in the congregation.”

  “But you’re the best,” he said, scooping up another forkful of salad.

  Kate smiled. “We’re starting a springtime women’s Bible-study group. I’ll ask if the women in the group would be willing to provide some baked goods for the booth and staff it too.”

  “Perfect. A food booth could be another way to keep Faith Briar Church visible in the community. Could even attract new members.”

  She raised a mocking brow. “You are a clever man, Reverend Hanlon.”

  He gave her a smug look. “Of course. That’s why you married me, isn’t it?”

  She laughed out loud and gently smacked the back of her hand against his arm. She couldn’t imagine her life without the man she loved so deeply. Thank you, Lord, for bringing us together.

  On a more serious note, Kate’s thoughts turned to Megan and the troubling feeling that the child needed more help than a few extra dollars could provide.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Kate had spent just a few minutes contemplating the day’s Scripture reading when the doorbell rang.

  “Early for a visitor,” she murmured, setting her Bible aside. She’d been sitting in her rocking chair, where she also had a view of the backyard through the sliding-glass door. Of course, she’d have a much clearer view of the yard if the milky calcium deposits on the doors hadn’t obscured it.

  Grimacing, she crossed the room to the front door. The only person she knew who’d come calling so early in the morning was Renee Lambert, and the moment she opened the door, she caught a whiff of Estée Lauder’s Youth-Dew, Renee’s trademark perfume.

  “Good morning, Renee. You’re up early this morning.”

  On a river of scent, the older woman swept past Kate into the living room. Dressed in her usual bright print warm-up suit, every strand of her dyed blonde hair was perfectly in place, and her high-heeled stilettos clicked on the slate entry. Kisses peered out from a designer tote that swung from Renee’s arm.