And if she'd decided to turn herself back into the old Kristy, why hadn't she gone all the way? Why hadn't she tamed that little feathery haircut of hers and left her red lipstick in the drawer at home, along with that killer perfume that made him think of black lace and body heat?

As her hands flew over the keyboard of her computer, the tiny gold and silver rings on her fingers flashed in the sunlight that streamed in from the window behind her, while those fake diamond studs glimmered in her ear-lobes. His gaze fell on the bodice of her ugly khaki dress. If only he didn't know what nestled beneath it.

Think of other things, dear, Marion Cunningham advised in her sweet, understanding voice. Concentrate on your sermon. I'm sure if you give it just a little more effort, it will be your best yet.

He flinched. Why did the great Mother have to show up just when he. was thinking about breasts?

The tapping stopped. Kristy rose from her desk, glanced over at him, and ducked out of the office to head for the rest room down the hall.

As soon as she got home, he knew she'd take off that ugly dress and slip into one of her new pairs of shorts and a top that showed off too much. And he wouldn't be there to see it because she'd made it more than clear that she didn't want him at her condo. No more home-cooked meals, no more dropping by to spill out his troubles about an unreasonable parishioner. Jeez, he missed her. He missed his friend.

He stared at her empty desk and thought about how she'd gone out to dinner with Mike Reedy again last night. That was twice now. On Saturday, Mike had taken her to a restaurant in Cashiers, and last night they'd eaten in the Mountaineer's dining room. Three people in the congregation had made sure he found out about it.

She wasn't back yet, and his skin grew clammy. He knew where she kept her purse. In the bottom left drawer, along with a small box of tissues and a first-aid kit. All his life, even during his wild days, he'd tried to behave honorably, and what he wanted to do wasn't honorable at all, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

He shot across the office, jerked open the drawer, and pulled out her purse, the same little black number she'd taken to the Mountaineer last week when they'd had their disastrous conversation and she'd told him he wasn't her friend.

A real minister, someone who wasn't so flawed, someone with a true calling, would never do this. He flipped open the catch and looked inside. Wallet, comb, Tic Tacs, some makeup, car keys, a Daily Word devotional book. No condom.

He heard her footsteps, shoved the purse back in the drawer, and pulled out the first-aid kit.

"Is something wrong?"

A few minutes earlier, the expression of concern on her face would have lightened his mood, but not now. "Just a headache."

"Go sit down. I'll bring you some aspirin."

He handed her the first-aid kit and, for the first time all week, she started fussing over him, bringing him a glass of water, giving him the aspirin, asking if he'd gotten enough sleep last night. Unfortunately, her fussing didn't feel nearly as good as it should have because he couldn't remember a single time when she'd mentioned a headache and he'd brought her aspirin.

What had happened to that condom? Just the thought of her passing it over to Mike Reedy made him feel sick. Part of him knew he should be happy that she might have found someone, but not Mike Reedy, even though he'd always liked Mike and couldn't think of a single thing wrong with him, except that he shouldn't be making love with Kristy Brown.

After he'd swallowed the aspirin he didn't need, he gazed at her and wondered why it had taken him so long to notice how pretty she was. Not in a flashy way, even when she got dressed up, but in a quiet, sweet way.

"You know the drive-in's opening Friday night," he found himself saying.

"I just hope someone shows up. A lot of people in town are angry with Gabe for helping Rachel, and they're talking about a boycott." Kristy looked worried. "People can be so mean."

He spoke casually. "We both want to be at the drive-in on Friday night when it opens, so why don't I pick you up at eight?"

Kristy stared at him. "You want to go to the drive-in together?"

"Sure. How else are we going to show Gabe our support?"

The telephone rang on his desk. Kristy studied it for a moment before she finally picked it up. He soon realized she was talking to Patty Wells, the coordinator of the day-care center.

"Yes, Ethan's here. Of course. Send Edward right up, Patty."

She replaced the receiver and frowned. "He's been asking all morning to come talk to you. Patty tried to distract him, but he wouldn't give up. I hope nothing's wrong."

Both of them had been around Edward long enough to know that he never demanded anything, and they shared a wordless moment of concern.

Kristy returned to the outer office, and, a few minutes later, showed Edward in. She gave Ethan a worried look, one of a hundred they'd shared over the years when she'd ushered a troubled parishioner into his office. Then she retreated.

"You can shut the door if you want some privacy," Ethan said.

Edward hesitated and looked out at Kristy. Ethan knew how fond he was of her; and he was surprised when Edward pressed the door closed with both hands. Whatever was on his mind was obviously serious stuff.

Ethan had never liked the impersonality of talking across a desk, and he walked around to a small seating area near the window that held a couch and two comfortable chairs.

Edward climbed up onto the middle cushion of the couch and slid back into the seat, which made his legs stick out in front of him. He had a smear of red paint on the toe of one sneaker. Ethan had noticed how clean Rachel kept his worn clothes, which led him to believe the paint had come from that morning's art project.

Edward automatically reached out for something at his side, and, when he encountered only air, scratched his elbow. The stuffed rabbit, Ethan guessed.

"What's on your mind, Edward?"

"Gabe's a big liar. He says he's your brother."

Ethan began to correct him, but the deep unhappiness in the boy's expression made him hesitate. "Why do you think he's lying?"

"Because he's a butthead, and I hate him."

Ethan had been counseling troubled people for years, and he forced himself to detach so he could rephrase the boy's words. "Sounds like you don't like Gabe too much."

Edward shook his head vigorously. "My mommy shouldn't like him either."

Ditto to that, buddy. "I guess it upsets you that your mother likes him."

"I told her she can touch me instead, but she said she wants to touch a grown man, too."

I'll just bet she does. Especially a grown man with a hefty bank account and a casual attitude toward his money.

"I even said you'd let her touch you, Pastor Ethan, but she said you was my friend and Gabe was hers, and she said she wanted to kiss him and I had to stop hitting him."

Kissing him? Hitting him? It took a moment for Ethan to figure out which question to ask. "You were hitting Gabe?"

"I jumped on his back when he was kissing her, and I kept hitting him with Stellaluna till he let her go."

If he'd been hearing this story about anyone else, he would have been amused, but not about his brother. He knew he shouldn't ask, but he couldn't help it. "Where was Gabe when you jumped on his back?"

"Squishing my mommy."

"Squishing her?"

"You know. On top of her. Squishing her."

Damn.

Edward's brown eyes filled with tears. "He's a bad man, and I want you to make him go away, and I want you to let my mommy touch you instead."

Ethan pushed aside his own concerns and moved to the couch where he slipped his arm around the boy's shoulders. "It doesn't work that way with grown-ups," he said gently. "Your mom and Gabe are friends."

"He was squishing her!"

Ethan forced himself to speak evenly. "They're grownups, and that means they can squish each other if they want to. And Edward, that doesn't mean your mom doesn't love you just as much as always. You know that, don't you?"

The child thought it over. "I guess."

"You might not be getting along with Gabe right now, but he's really a good person."

"He's a butthead."

"He's had some bad things happen to him, and it makes him grouchy, but he's not bad."

"What bad things?"

Ethan hesitated, then decided the child should know the truth. "He had a wife and a little boy he loved very much. They died in an accident a while ago. He's still very sad about it."

Edward didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, he slid closer and let his head slump against Ethan's chest.

Ethan rubbed the boy's arm and thought about the mystery of God's ways. Here he was comforting the son of a man he'd despised and a woman he disliked, so why did he feel comforted himself?

"Gabe really is my brother," he said quietly. "I love him very much."

The child stiffened, but didn't draw away. "He's mean."

It was difficult for Ethan to fathom how his gentle brother could be unkind to this precious little boy. "I want you to think really hard. Isn't there anything nice Gabe has done for you?"

Edward began to shake his head, then stopped. "There's one thing."

"What's that?"

"He calls me Chip now."

Fifteen minutes later, Ethan was on the phone to Cal. Without breaking the confidentiality of his conversation with Edward, he let his oldest brother know they had big trouble on their hands.

"Giving out any free samples, bro?"

Rachel's head lifted as a deep male voice came from the doorway of the snack shop.