Hope Springs by Kim Cash Tate Page B

she wanted to say it, she found it hard. She’d never seen Todd so stirred up about anything related to job or ministry. What if he was right? What if this was God?
    Or maybe it was some sort of test, God wanting to see if she was willing. But in the end the whole thing would fall through.
    She turned back around. “How soon would we have to leave?”
    â€œNo telling how long it would take to sell the house in this economy,” he said. “Could be six months or more.”
    A ray of hope poked its nose through. She didn’t mind the “when” stretching into the future. More time meant more opportunities to change their minds. But admittedly, the housing issue was one benefit—they’d no longer have a mortgage if they moved into Todd’s childhood home. “What would Calvary do without a pastor meanwhile?” she said.
    â€œThey were already figuring on an interim preacher while they did a search, so that wouldn’t be a problem.” He paced a little. “But this isn’t a done deal. The elders have to vote, then they recommend me to the congregation for a vote.”
    Becca gave him a look. “It’s a done deal.” She swallowed, encouraging herself. Voicing support only means you’re willing. Anything can happen between now and when the house finally sells . “If you’re fully convinced this is God and thus worth the drastic reduction in income and a drastic move to Hope Springs, then I guess . . . fine.”
    Todd wrapped his arms around her. “I promise you I’ll keep praying, and if I get the slightest inkling we’re on the wrong track, I have no problem calling it off. And I’m not giving notice at work or church until we see movement with the house.” He looked her in the eye. “All the pieces have to fall into place.”
    Becca nodded and sent up a silent prayer.
    Lord, if there’s any way we can stay, please . . . close this door .

CHAPTER TEN
Thursday, December 31
    J anelle pulled up to her grandmother’s house just shy of eleven in the evening on New Year’s Eve, car loaded with clothes, books, toys, and everything else she and the kids deemed necessary for a few months’ stay. She’d given them a lot of leeway, especially when it grew apparent that they weren’t excited about the move. Actually, they’d staged a last-minute revolt. And she’d felt bad that she hadn’t truly consulted them. Not that it would’ve changed her mind necessarily, but she’d learned that when she heard them out up front, the decision, whatever it was, tended to go down better.
    Instead, after she’d packed up the car, the kids surprised her with a joint statement—read by Daniel and written in crayon—that they weren’t going. Any other time she might’ve been amused. But they were already running late, and her own emotions about the move were running on high. Thankfully, she’d been able to smooth things over relatively quickly by focusing on how happy they would make Grandma Geri and by allowing them to tote even more stuff to create the feeling of home away from home.
    Daniel had run back for his Xbox and PlayStation 3, and every corresponding game. Tiffany had carted a huge plastic container with every crayon, marker, and coloring book, and her entire collection of Groovy Girl dolls—which brought tears the first few minutes of the trip. “I won’t have anyone to play dolls with,” she said. Then, clutching one of them, “These are the only friends I’ll have.”
    Janelle pondered the temporary move all the way to Hope Springs. Wasn’t easy for her either. For more than two years she’d lived with tangible reminders of David—photos around the house, his books and favorite magazines in the office and family room, jackets and baseball caps in the coat closet, and clothes she hadn’t yet brought herself to remove from