[Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm (15 page)

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Authors: Janette Oke

BOOK: [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm
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“Mr. Kingsley wishes to see you,” said Miss Stout once again.
Christine pulled herself away from the flowers and turned toward the massive door leading to the office. She dreaded the coming exchange. Had Boyd told his father they had parted company with words? Had he declared they were through?
She braced herself with a deep breath and entered. The familiar head came up. A big grin welcomed her.
“Well ...” he said, leaning back as though he expected the visit to take a while. “Got Boyd off to school this morning.”
He nodded to the chair before his desk, and Christine sat down. She began to wonder what this was all about. Surely he didn’t call her into his office just to tell her what she already knew.
“You’ve been good for my boy.” His statement surprised her. “Steadied him down. He’s not as flighty as he used to be. I appreciate that,” he continued, obviously fighting to keep his voice controlled. His unusual show of emotion made Christine wish to weep.
“He was talking to me this morning before he drove out. Says he’s really going to miss you.”
Christine’s heart sang. He wasn’t still mad at her.
“Boyd thinks,” he went on, “that it would be so much better for you—for the both of us—if you’d just move on over to the house.”
So that was it. Boyd was having his father put on some pressure.
“No use your paying room and board and sitting over there all by yourself. Besides, then he’d be able to call you more. Keep in touch. I suppose he gets a bit lonely down at that university. Only natural. He’s not good at letters. But then, neither am I. We use the phone.”
Christine said nothing. Her momentary relief that Boyd still cared for her had now turned into another disappointment.
“It would mean a lot to me to have you keep contact with him,” Mr. Kingsley was saying. “I’m not hiding that any. I’m afraid he gets a little ... well ... they can be a bit wild on those university campuses. Drink too much. Party too much. Only natural. Wild oats and all. But if he had you to call and chat with every night ... then he’d pay a bit more attention to the studies.”
So I’m to be your son’s policeman,
Christine’s thoughts clamored,
keeping him in line via the telephone wires.
She began to shake her head, her heart heavy.
“Now—don’t go saying no until you’ve thought about it. Nothing wrong with the plan that I can see.”
“I told Boyd I’d pray about it,” she finally said, hoping it would close the conversation and let her escape further argument.
“He said that.”
Christine had the feeling that, like his son, Mr. Kingsley thought praying was a total waste of time and only delayed a decision.
“Don’t take too long,” he said. “We should be making our plans. Boyd will want to know.”
Christine nodded and rose to her feet. She did hope she was dismissed. The conversation had made her extremely uncomfortable. Mr. Kingsley moved his chair forward again, and Christine knew the conversation was over. She moved quickly to the door.
She was opening the door when he called, “Roses okay?”
She stopped and looked back, sorting through his words and his meaning. “They’re beautiful.”
“Boyd had me get the florist out of bed this morning, get him on down to the shop, and have them ready. Wanted to be sure you had them first thing.”
“They’re beautiful,” Christine said again and quietly closed the door.
Christine did not move in with Mr. Kingsley. She did pray about it, but she knew even as she had said the words that prayer was not necessary. She knew deep within herself it was not the right thing to do. One way she knew was when she imagined herself trying to explain the arrangement to her parents.
Mr. Kingsley was not happy with her decision—nor was Boyd. But she started their months apart by writing every day. Just because Boyd was not good about letters did not mean she couldn’t be. He did call. Two or three times a week to begin with. This meant Christine called home fewer times. She did not want to use up her precious allotted time in conversations with her folks. She missed that. But it seemed a small price to pay. Her parents would be with her always.
But then the telephone calls from the university came less and less frequently. Boyd told her the classes were keeping him busy—and Christine hoped that it was so. He had decided that journalism wasn’t for him after all, and he was now taking some sociology courses.
Christine, who usually enjoyed the first snowfall, walked home with drooping shoulders. It was just something cold and messy and not at all welcomed. But at least the months were passing. Snow meant it would be time for Christmas soon. Her folks were expecting her home for Christmas. She had thought about how much fun it would be to take Boyd with her. Show him what a real family Christmas was all about. But that would leave Mr. Kingsley all alone. She couldn’t do that. She gave up the idea.
Her letters soon slacked off to twice a week. Then once a week. There really was nothing much to say, and with Boyd not responding in kind, there was nothing to refer to on his end of things. She really knew very little about his university life. When they talked on the phone, they were hurried. He asked about her day and her plans and told her he missed her and hoped she was fine. It didn’t take long at all to use up five minutes.
Occasionally there were disagreements. Boyd still did not understand what he called her stubbornness in refusing to move in with his father. He still was upset if he called on Sunday and was told she was at church. Christine felt he should know that’s where she would be; then she reminded herself of the time change. Perhaps Boyd had forgotten to factor it in.
Christine decided that long-range courtships were not very satisfying.
Courtship?
Was that where she really was? If so, she needed to do some serious sorting and thinking. Boyd still had not made any move whatsoever toward her faith. Could she seriously consider him as a potential life partner? She’d pray harder.
CHAPTER
Twelve
Elizabeth found herself pacing the floor as she anxiously waited for Wynn to come home. He was not later than usual, and normally she kept her emotions firmly in control. But her latest phone conversation with Christine had left her agitated. Even Teeko whined and shifted positions in the room at her restlessness. She heard the dog but paid little attention.
Elizabeth heard Wynn let himself in the door. She and Teeko both were facing him as he entered the room. His eyes moved from the face of his wife to the whining dog.
“Something wrong with him?” he asked as he removed his coat.
Elizabeth looked quickly at the husky. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“He doesn’t normally just lie there and let me walk in. Teeko meets me at the door and nearly bowls me over.”
At the sound of his name, Teeko leaped to his feet and went bounding forward, tail sweeping great arcs from side to side. He appeared to be fine. Wynn reached over to take the silky head between his palms and rock him back and forth. The dog rumbled his pleasure.
“Supper’s ready,” said Elizabeth, pulling her thoughts back together. She started for the small kitchen where the evening meal had been prepared.
“Be there just as soon as I get some grime off my hands,” Wynn responded and disappeared into the bathroom.
He came back out refastening his cuff buttons. “Whew,” he said. “Wish it was as easy to wash away the mental grime.”
“Mental grime?” Elizabeth was putting out the bowl of mashed potatoes and the small platter of venison steaks. She went back for the carrots as Wynn continued his comments.
“Some days one has no choice but to deal with society’s filth.”
“And this was one of those days?” she asked over her shoulder.
He nodded. “Our world isn’t getting any better—or cleaner, Elizabeth. I don’t know how people can treat one another the way they do. Or themselves, for that matter.”
She did not ask questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answers. “I talked to Chrissie,” she said instead. She saw she had his immediate attention.
“How are things?”
“I gather she is still very involved with that young man—though she didn’t say so directly.”
“I thought he was away at university.”
“Oh, he is. But they correspond. Well ... she corresponds. He phones. She is always antsy when I call since he might be trying to get the line. She quite cut me off today. She did apologize but said he hadn’t called yet this week, and she was sure he’d try tonight.”
He took his usual place at the table. “Is that what upset you?” he asked quietly.
“I didn’t say I was upset.”
He smiled. “No ... and if you’re honest, I don’t think you’ll say that you’re not.”
“Well, maybe I’m upset—a little,” she admitted, “but I don’t think it was that. At least ... at least not only that.”
She looked at her husband waiting patiently for her to continue. “I don’t know. I can’t really put my finger on it. She just seems ... different. Distant. She’s rather evasive and sometimes almost testy. It’s ... it’s just not like Christine,” she finished lamely.
“Wish we could get that fella up here and take a look at him,” muttered Wynn as Elizabeth joined him at the table. “I’ve a feeling that would answer a lot of our questions.”
“Well, having her home for Christmas will help. At least we’ll be better able to figure out where she is—what’s going on with her. Thankfully it’s only a few weeks away.”
“What about Henry? Has he worked out his duty roster?”
“I still haven’t heard. He was having a hard time trying to schedule each of the officers a bit of time off. It’s difficult when you have so few men. But of course you know all about that. I remember some Christmases when you had to go out ...” Elizabeth shook her head and didn’t finish.
“I expect he’ll end up staying there,” Wynn said slowly. “One of his men is married. He’ll need time with his family. The other young officer won’t be able to take all the shifts alone. Unfortunately, Christmas can be a tense time. Lots of people celebrate too much.”
“Not
too much
—just in the wrong way,” corrected Elizabeth soberly.
They now joined hands, and Wynn led them in the evening table grace. Elizabeth passed the meat platter, a sigh escaping her lips. “You know ... it used to be so easy when they were little and all we had to worry about was keeping them fed and clothed and happy.”
“You worry too much.”
“I’ve told myself that dozens of times.”
The dog yawned and stretched out beside Wynn’s chair.
“It’s ... it’s just that they are so far away. I feel like I’ve lost contact. ”
“Do you think it would be easier if they were close and you were more involved?”
“I honestly don’t know. All I know is that I feel ... disconnected, and it’s frightening.”
His smile was sympathetic. “You’ve raised them well, Elizabeth. You have a God you can trust.”
“I know. I shouldn’t worry.”
“What exactly did Christine say?” Wynn asked when he pushed back his empty plate.
Elizabeth moved to get the tea. “Not too much. It was more what she
didn’t
say. Mr. Kingsley and his son have both put pressure on her to move into the Kingsley house—”
“She’s not considering that, is she?” She heard genuine concern in his voice.
“She told them no—again. But I’m afraid if they keep at her about it, she might give in. I’d hate to see her do that. I think it would be a dreadful mistake.”
He nodded in agreement. “Maybe I should give her a call.”
“Maybe you should call that Kingsley fellow.”
“I’d rather not,” his answer came quickly. “Christine might see it as interference. Like we don’t trust her.”
“Do we?” She studied his face as she continued. “Oh, I know we trust Christine. She’s stood firmly for what she knows is right. But if they keep on badgering her—pushing her—what young girl on her own can stand against that? Particularly when one of them is her boss and the other seems to be capturing her heart. She said that Mr. Kingsley thinks she’s a good influence on his son. Now, I ask you—why does his son need a good influence? What kind of young man is he? Christine won’t say much. Just that she’s sure we’d like him. Then she goes on about the beautiful roses he sent or the dinner at the fancy restaurant. As though that makes a man. I just don’t like the sound of the whole thing.”

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