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Her Unlikely Hero (Easter in Gilead 1)

By Valerie Comer

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Prologue

“Good work!”

How often had someone said those words to him? Connor Hamelin could probably count them on one hand… and he deserved the lack. Things had changed, at least a little. He glanced at his boss and grinned. “Thanks. Feels good to have the harvest in after that crazy season.”

Connor’s smile faded quickly, though, as Larry seemed to hesitate. Had Connor messed up, after all? Was the praise merely a prelude to correction?

The older man took off his John Deere cap and finger-combed his thinning hair before meeting Connor’s gaze. “I been thinking.”

Uh oh. Connor’s conscience shot into overdrive before he remembered that he’d lived a clean life since his wandering had landed him in Kansas last spring. Not that he was perfect, of course, but there shouldn’t be anything major his boss could pin on him.

“You’ve been a hard worker, son. But, with all the damage to the greenhouses from that freak storm a couple of months back, there won’t be much going on here through the winter months.”

Connor was being laid off. He’d known it was coming, but still a tiny, secret part of him had held onto a sliver of hope that he’d been such an amazing worker that Larry would keep him on through the winter. There must be a few odd jobs that needed doing while they waited for the contractor to replace the structures’ twisted steel beams. It had taken the insurance company a while to sort out the coverage and, by then, it had been too late in the fall to rebuild.

“So, like I said, I been thinking.”

Could that hint of hope become reality? “Yes, sir?”

“You heard about the passion play over in town? It’s put on by the Gilead Bible College every Easter.”

The what? Connor blinked. “Sir?”

“I don’t know if you feel as I do, son, but I’d sure appreciate having you on board here for the coming growing season, and it seems to me that if I let you go, you may not return. So, Karen and I were talking, and we figured that if you’d get on board with that passion play — get yourself a part of some kind — and do whatever odd jobs we could find around Bed of Greens Truck Farm, we’d pay your wages through until work picks up again in spring.”

The words passion play didn’t seem to fit something a Bible college would be part of. Connor might be an expert in playing with passion, but surely that wasn’t what this Bible-thumping man was referring to. “I… uh… what’s a passion play?”
Larry shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. I forgot you might not be familiar with that term. We’ve talked about Jesus before, I know that.”

“Yeah.” Connor had heard it all from his two half-brothers back in Spokane, too. He’d paid about as much attention to his boss as he had to them. As near as he could figure, God wasn’t particularly relevant to his life.

“Jesus lived and died here on this planet around two thousand years ago. A lot of things happened the week before he was killed. It started with the triumphal entry to Jerusalem…”

Connor scratched his jaw.

Larry studied him. “Sometimes we call that Palm Sunday. Folks were pretty excited about crowning Jesus as King of the Jews. They’d been foretold of a coming messiah — a savior — for thousands of years before that, and they were sure they were living in the time it would all come true. Yet, just a few days later, the same people who’d been singing Jesus’s praises were calling for His death.”

And wasn’t that just typical of the human race? Connor had been on the receiving end of an about-face himself a time or two. Only, he’d deserved it and, from what little he knew about Jesus, that guy hadn’t.

“And they make a play about this? Why?”

“Because of how the story ends, son. Jesus died, sure enough, but then He rose from the grave, proving to everyone that He really was God and the Messiah rolled into one. Our Bible college was started by an itinerant preacher way back in the 1930s. Hiram Smith held revival meetings all over the Midwest back in his day. He knew that inside every human heart is a longing for a personal relationship with God.”

Connor only hoped he’d muffled the scoffing sound in his throat. Inside every heart? Talk about unlikely. On the other hand, Connor was sure craving something. Some purpose in life. He’d screwed his own up so badly, it likely wasn’t redeemable, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming.

Just look at him working on a Kansas truck farm for an old guy who spouted religion. Why did he stick around? Because he liked Larry. He was doing hard, honest work. He was making a difference.

And because Larry called him son as though it were as natural as breathing.

Yeah, Connor couldn’t fault the man for saying everyone longed for meaning. Even evidence in his own life pointed to that. He just wasn’t convinced it was Jesus who could give it.

He took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. If I do this thing, I’ll have room and board and wages through the winter?”

“And you’d need to promise to work the next growing season, too, of course.”

“Right. I figured that. How big a production is this?” Drama class had been one of the few bright spots back in high school. Acting gave him a chance to be someone other than Connor Hamelin, son of a womanizing alcoholic and a mother who was no improvement. For a while, he’d dreamed of making it big in Hollywood, becoming his generation’s version of Daniel Radcliffe or Ryan Gosling.

Then he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, she’d declined a quiet abortion, and he’d been cast in a new role: pariah. How to start a guy’s life spiraling downhill.

He shoved thoughts of Dafne aside. He had no part in her life. No part in his son’s life. He’d ceded those rights to her parents when Gavin had been a newborn, convinced he was doing the right thing. He’d only been a kid himself, just seventeen.

Dafne had been a kid, too. Now, looking back, he couldn’t fault her for refusing the abortion, but wouldn’t adoption have been a better option? No, by keeping the baby and raising him herself, she’d made Connor the bad guy.

“Connor?”

He blinked hard, pulling himself back to a gloomy November day in Kansas, far from the summer Spokane day of Gavin’s birth. “Sorry. I missed what you said.”

“The passion play is pretty big. They run the show every weekend during Lent then every day during Holy Week, and thousands of people fly in from all over the country to see it. It’s a big tourism event for the town, as well as a recruitment tool for prospective students.” Larry leaned closer. “Three or four years ago, a talent scout signed up the guy who played Jesus. John Johnson has done some big films since then.”

John Johnson had hit Hollywood from Gilead? Maybe Connor’s youthful dreams weren’t completely gone. Of course, the other guy probably’d had tons more experience and coaching and all that. But, still… impressive.

“You can think about it a few days. The missus and me will be praying for and waiting on your decision.”

Well, there was no way they’d let a guy like him play Jesus and get a talent scout’s attention. Connor might not know much about the Bible, but he’d never qualify to play a hero like Jesus. Every story had its villain, though.

He racked his brain for what he knew of the Bible story. Judas! Wasn’t that the bad guy’s name? Yeah, Judas had betrayed Jesus. Stabbed Him in the back while pretending to be His friend, sort of like Brutus had in Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar.

Being cast as Judas would be the most fitting role for a guy like Connor, but maybe he could add a dimension to the villain’s character. Make him relatable.

All that, have a place to belong over the winter months, and keep his job working for Larry and Karen on the truck farm? Sold.

Connor stuck out his hand. “I don’t need time to think about it. I’m in. Just tell me where to find the details of how to get involved.”

A wide smile split Larry’s face as he shook Connor’s hand firmly. “Thank you, son. You’ve made Karen and me happy today. Thank you.”

There might even have been a tear glistening in the older man’s eye.

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