Monday Morning Faith Read Free Page A

do.”
    I smiled. And the bad ones too . “Oh, there are a lot of good writers around; you’ll discover them.” I handed him the stack of reading material. He was still grumbling when he left the desk.
    Nelda approached, pencil wedged behind her right ear. “We’re sending out for pizza. You in?”
    â€œOf course.”
    This was my life: books, old men, and an occasional pizza.

    Late that afternoon, I drained the last of my green tea and shut off my computer. Sitting in one position for three hours had left me stiff. A glance outside my window revealed a light drizzle icing the trees. Michigan winters could be arduous; the late fall storm system had crept in when we weren’t looking. In the two weeks before my birthday we’d enjoyed Indian summer with temperatures in the low seventies. But the cold air this morning foretold change.
    The hands of the office clock pointed to five thirty. I collected my purse and coat and exited the side entrance. The ice wasn’t thick, just enough of a coating to make walking hazardous and unprotected windshields a real pain. I slipped on my leather gloves, thinking about the ice scraper Pop bought me for Christmas last year. One of those fancy automatic things you plug in the cigarette lighter. Clearing the windshield should be a snap.
    The traffic kept the roads clear of ice, so I wouldn’t have any trouble getting home once I made it out of the parking lot.
    Making my way across the slippery asphalt was a little tricky, but since I wore sensible shoes — not those high-heeled horrors Nelda favored — I made good time. I grabbed the ice scraper out of the trunk, opened the driver’s side, and plugged it in the receptacle. Within seconds the gimmick was doing its job.
    I moved from the windshield to the side window on the driver’s side — and then it happened. My right foot hit a slick spot. I made a grab for the side mirror, missed, and went down hard, ending up flat on my back on the asphalt, my feet and legs halfway underneath the car.
    When the jarring pain cleared, I lay there, stunned from the fall. I would have to scoot backwards far enough to get my feet clear of the car to sit up. I placed my hands flat on the pavement.
    Lord, if you love me, don’t let anyone be watching.
    I yelped when strong hands reached under my arms, hoisting me to my feet. I was still standing on ice, so I grabbed the mirror and turned to face my benefactor. My heart dropped to my toes as once again I found myself staring at Sam Littleton. He looked as I remembered. Kind (albeit a little bemused). Picture of health. Handsome.
    He stood there on the ice as if he were Superman.
    And I had just been caught in another clownish fall. I was never this clumsy!
    He grinned. “Miss Holland. Enjoying the first bout of bad weather, are you?”
    Assessing the physical damage I’d incurred, I decided I was bruised, but not broken. I straightened, shoving my glasses up on my nose. “Mr. Littleton, I’ve about decided you’re detrimental to my health.”
    He laughed, a rich warm sound in the cold air. “My apologies.”
    I stared at the library’s treasured tomes scattered across the icy parking lot and winced. “You dropped your books.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I was afraid you’d broken something.” His eyes focused on the volumes. “They look to be all right.” He bent to pick up the hardbacks, and I recovered enough to help. He dumped the armload in his car with a careless abandon that set my teeth on edge. What was he thinking, treating books like that?
    He offered a gloved hand and I accepted it. “You still look shaken. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
    The thought of a hot mug of something in the library coffee shop was tempting. Mom and Pop wouldn’t wait dinner for me. They ate at six o’clock on the dot regardless of who was there.
    â€œOh, I mustn’t. I