“Then you should definitely come. I think you’d like it.” Caleb went on to tell her a little about the pastor and the style of worship. “You wouldn’t have to bring much. Snag a bag of potato chips or a container of cookies and you’re set.”
Emma had no desire to go, yet Caleb’s description of the event almost tempted her. He spoke fondly of the church, and judging by Marty’s nods and expression, he felt the same way.
It’d been a long time since Emma had experienced any real sense of community. She hadn’t realized she missed it until now.
Mom and Chrissy had been trying to get her to go back for years. The last thing Emma wanted to do was attend where everyone seemed happy. Carefree. Emma was so out of touch with God that she wasn’t sure how to find her way back. She’d have to fake it there.
But what if she started going somewhere new? Preferably a church that hadn’t had her name on the prayer list for years.
Then again, how was she supposed to step into God’s house when she hadn’t so much as called Him up?
Emma bit the inside of her cheek and suddenly noticed both guys were watching her. How long had she been standing there after Caleb’s invitation? “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a space case today. All these paint fumes.” She chuckled, relieved they both laughed with her. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll think about it.”
“Sounds great. I hope we’ll see you there.”
She gave him a smile, tried to ignore the curious look on Marty’s face, and continued to focus on her painting.
* * *
Marty caughta glimpse of wistfulness on Emma’s face when Caleb invited her to their church’s barbecue. The funny thing was, Marty hadn’t told his friend anything about Emma not attending church. The invitation had come straight from Caleb, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect, or more genuine.
He wished Emma would accept and come to the barbecue. It’d be good for her. And maybe it’d help her talk about why she was avoiding church. It didn’t matter if she talked to him or the pastor or anyone else. Marty suspected she needed to voice her concerns to someone.
They easily finished painting the first coat by lunch. Marty had called for pizza to be delivered, and the intercom sounded as he was cleaning brushes. He buzzed the delivery guy through. Minutes later, they were sitting around the dining table with plates and cold sodas, the pizza boxes open in the middle.
“I should have asked everyone what kind of pizza they prefer. I hope you guys were okay with the choices.” Marty had ordered two large pizzas. One was half pepperoni, half sausage. The other was half combination and half Hawaiian. “Help yourselves.”
To his surprise, Emma immediately reached for the Hawaiian. Granted, it was the smallest slice available, but usually he found he was the only one who ate it. “Nice choice,” he told her as he reached for one of his own.
Caleb shook his head dramatically. “No one should put pineapple on pizza.” He got a slice of combination and another of sausage. “It should be outlawed.”
“I’ll just agree to disagree,” Emma said with a grin. She picked up her slice and held it toward Marty. He hit it with his own like they would toast with a drink. Together, they took their first bites.
As though he were witnessing some kind of atrocity, Caleb took a giant bite of his own pizza. “I’m sad for you both. But it leaves more of the real pizza for me.”
Marty laughed then and shared a smile with Emma.
Seriously, she loved Hawaiian pizza, too? If she weren’t sitting right there, he was confident Caleb would tease him about how it was a match made in heaven. Thank goodness his friend and boss kept his mouth shut for the moment. “We’ll need to let the paint dry for about two hours, then we can put the second coat on.”
Caleb nodded. “Sounds good.” He took a drink of his soda. “Any chance we could check out your projector and gaming system?” He waggled his brows.
Marty looked to Emma. “I’ve got an awesome racing game. With the big screen, it looks pretty sweet up there. Especially with multiple players.” Did she play video games?
“I’ll bet it does.” Emma wiped her hands off on a paper towel. “I’ve never played a game like that. But I’m willing to give it a go if you guys promise not to make fun of how badly I do.”
Marty made a cross motion over his heart.
Caleb smiled. “We all had to start somewhere. Maybe we’ll make a gamer out of you yet.”
They finished eating pizza. As soon as Marty put leftovers in the fridge, they migrated to the gaming room. They had an hour to kill before they could go back to painting. He put the racing game in the console and got three controllers. He was glad he’d gone ahead and purchased four to go with the console even though, at the time, he’d been afraid he was wasting money. Even if Emma only played a few minutes, it would be worth it.
He sobered a little. They were back to money again. Had Emma never played video games because it wasn’t an interest, or because she’d simply had no money growing up to buy them?
Caleb showed Emma the controller and explained the buttons to her. Meanwhile, Marty watched as an intense need to protect Emma—to care for her—built in his chest. What would she say if she knew? Would she accuse him of pitying her? Offering charity?
Would he feel the same way if roles were reversed? Honestly, he wasn’t sure.
What he did know was that how he felt about Emma was a far cry from pity. He respected her. The strength she’d shown throughout her life amazed him. Humbled him.
