Heartsong (12 page)

Jordan’s voice was sharp with anger. “I’ve already made my flight reservations, and frankly I really don’t care about hurting your friend’s feelings.”

“It’s not like a real date. I haven’t even met this guy. Sally’s been trying to fix this up for weeks. I can’t let her down now.”

The silence that followed felt oppressive.

“Just what do you expect me to do? Jump for joy?”

“No.” The word came out squeaky and high-pitched. “I … I was hoping we could spend Saturday together, and as much of Sunday as your schedule will allow.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to come?” he asked forcefully.

“If you don’t, I think I’ll go crazy.” She hadn’t meant to reveal so much of her feelings, to admit quite that much.

He sighed heavily, and when he spoke, the irritation had left. “I think I would, too,” he admitted huskily.

The stiffness left her shoulders. “We’ll have a wonderful day,” she breathed softly.

“Unfortunately it was the night I was looking forward to.”

“Then I’ll have to thank my guardian angel for looking after me,” she said lightheartedly.

She could hear pages being flipped, as if he were consulting an appointment calendar. “What about Friday night?”

Skye had already made plans with the church youth group. “I … I kind of have something going that night,” she said, more than a little apprehensive. “What time could you be here?”

“Around seven.”

She sighed softly. “That’ll work great. Eat a light dinner, because we’re having hot fudge sundaes afterward.”

“After what?”

“You’ll see,” she said, laughing lightly. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

A male voice interrupted from the background. It sounded vaguely like Bill
Malloy, the man Skye had met the day her car broke down.

“I’ve got to go,” he groaned impatiently.

“Jordan, I have some wonderful news about Billy. I’ll tell you Friday. Good-bye.”

“Friday at seven,” he said in a husky voice that sounded very much like a promise.

Skye had no sooner hung up the phone when it rang again. It was Janey. “Auntie Skye,” she burst out excitedly. “Can you come over right away? I’ve got something to show you.”

Skye glanced quickly at her watch; there was plenty of time before church. “All right, cupcake.”

Brad and Peggy were doing yard work when she drove up. Janey saw her from down the street and came racing up the sidewalk.

“Come see,” she yelled, running with all her strength.

Brad rose from the flower bed he was weeding to meet her. “Yes, come see,” he encouraged with sparkling eyes.

Janey grabbed her hand, breathless from the run. “It arrived this morning. I was so surprised.”

“Hey, you guys.” Skye laughed, her brow furrowed. “What gives?”

Tugging fiercely at Skye’s hand, Janey led the way around the back of the house. When Brad and Peggy followed, Skye glanced skeptically over her shoulder, thoroughly confused.

Once they rounded the corner, her gaze focused on a large brown doghouse. Built to resemble a miniature home, it contained white shutters beside two windows. SAMPSON was painted in book hand above the door. Squatting down, Skye could see that plush carpeting covered the floor except for a small space of linoleum in the kitchen area that was used for the dog’s water and food dishes.

Sampson slumbered peacefully inside his new quarters. Skye petted the puppy with long, flowing strokes.

“Brad, it’s a darling house. Where did you ever find it?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I didn’t!”

Her eyes widened and swept his controlled expression, but Brad only smiled back. Janey was no help, either. Obviously primed for silence, she pinched her lips closed with her fingers.

“Peggy?” Skye turned her questioning eyes to her sister-in-law.

“Jordan had it delivered this morning,” Peggy said at last, recognizing Skye’s
frustration.

“Jordan did?” A warm bubble of happiness surfaced.

“Take some friendly advice,” Brad said pensively. “Hold on to Jordan Kiley. He’s a keeper.”

Her smile was tremulous, but her eyes sparkled with a light of contentment and promise. “I think I will,” she said.

“Aren’t you going to tell Aunt Skye the best news of all?” Janey demanded from inside the doghouse. Sampson was cradled on her lap and looking disgruntled because his nap and his home had been invaded.

“What news?” Skye’s attention swiveled back to her brother. “You got a job!” She really didn’t need to guess further; nothing else could have removed the lines of doubt and worry that had furrowed his expression for weeks. He even seemed to stand taller, as if some heavy load had been lifted from him.

“I start Monday morning.” A grin lit up his boyish face.

“And more money than we dared dream,” Peggy interjected enthusiastically.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways. Funny, I never expected to get that job, let alone be asked to be the foreman.” Brad opened the back door leading to the kitchen. “Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

The three adults entered the house, leaving Janey contentedly behind, sitting in the doghouse.

The bus was loaded with thirty-five laughing, teasing junior high students. The festive mood intensified as Skye and Jordan climbed aboard with the bus driver.

“All right, kids.” Skye stood in the front of the bus, calling them to attention. “Hold it down a minute while I go over the rules and introduce you to my friend. This is Mr. Kiley, and he’ll be accompanying us tonight.”

A chorus of hoots and welcomes came from the lively group.

Jordan acknowledged their acceptance with a casual wave of his hand.

“I see you had to twist his arm to come,” one of the boys from the back of the bus shouted, referring to Jordan’s broken arm.

Other jeers followed laughter. “Robert, be careful, I may have to twist your mouth as well,” Skye said, returning the banter easily.

After reviewing the rules, Skye sat beside Jordan in one of the front seats of the bus. The driver started the vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot, while the eager bunch sang songs accompanied by Skye on the guitar. What they lacked in talent was more than compensated for in volume.

The theater parking lot was packed with cars and several other church buses. Some discussion followed on how to locate their bus after the movie.

“Just remember ours is the yellow one,” Jordan offered.

“Cute, fellow.”

“Funny.”

“Who is this guy, Jeff Foxworthy?” came a sprinkling of wisecracks.

Although the Christian film’s message was geared toward their charges, Skye prayed that Jordan would respond to the invitation to accept Christ as his personal Savior. At the end of the film the invocation was repeated by counselors at the front of the theater. Several teens and preteens went forward.

Skye tipped her head back to watch Jordan, but his expression was closed and unreadable. Sighing, she realized that for Jordan, placing his trust in Christ would not come easily. Independence and self-reliance were so much a part of his personality, Skye wondered how long it would take him to recognize his need. From what she knew of him, Jordan would investigate Christianity thoroughly before making a commitment. Skye wanted him to know and love God as she did. There was no denying the growing attraction she felt for Jordan, and it was of primary importance that he share her faith.

Feeling her gaze touch him, Jordan turned, his eyes regarding her seriously.
I must be patient
, she told herself.
I must learn to let the Holy Spirit do the calling
.

Hot fudge sundaes waited for them back at the church. No one needed encouragement to dig in. Jordan and Skye sat opposite each other at one of the long tables. Although they sat among several teens, the numbers didn’t lessen the sense of intimacy between them. Several times she found Jordan watching her curiously, but she avoided his gaze, joking with the kids around her instead.

Jordan finished his ice cream and pushed the bowl aside.

“You’re not done, are you?” Skye asked incredulously. Jordan had eaten the vanilla ice cream but had left the chocolate syrup. Not waiting for his answer, she took his bowl and poured the chocolate over her ice cream. “I know, I know,” she joked, “once on the lips, forever on the hips. But I’m going to splurge. I have a weakness for chocolate.”

Jordan’s smile seemed to reach out and touch her. “I have a weakness, too,” he admitted, his eyes focused on her full mouth. “But my weakness lies in the area of blue-eyed blondes who sing like angels and hide cash from muggers in their shoes.”

Her thick lashes quickly veiled her reaction, but his words brought a curious sensation to her heart.

Before she could find a witty comment to trade with him, the tables and chairs
began to vibrate. Bowls of ice cream shimmied across the tabletop.

Someone yelled, “Earthquake.” But no one moved, each paralyzed, their eyes filled with panic.

Skye had experienced several minor earthquakes in her lifetime, but nothing that seemed to be this strong. The crucifix suspended from the ceiling by two wires swayed as the room rocked. Several bowls had reached the end of the table and were ready to crash to the floor. Skye jerked herself upright to catch them, but in the rush lost her footing. She felt herself fall, the floor rushing up to meet her. Everything went black, although she was conscious.

Then it was over; everything was still. She remained frozen until she was roughly jerked into Jordan’s arms.

“Dear God,” he moaned into her hair, “are you all right?” Skye didn’t care that his cast was biting unmercifully into her ribs. She clung to him as the only solid thing in a reeling world.

People began to move around; some of the girls were crying, still caught in the terror.

“I’m okay.” Her first breaths came in gasps. “I must have hit my head. Everything went black for a couple of seconds, but I’m okay now.”

Jordan’s look burned her, his eyes a brilliant shade of silver. Urgently his hand pushed the hair away from her face, as if needing some reassurance she wasn’t injured.

Besides the fright, no one had been hurt, and what had seemed an eternity wasn’t any more than a few seconds—less than a minute, although it had seemed much longer.

In the aftermath everyone started to speak at once. Someone started singing a chorus of praise and thanksgiving, others joined, and soon the whole group was lifting their voices in gratitude to God. Everyone except Jordan, who remained detached.

Silently they rode home in her car. He had hardly spoken since the quake. The radio was full of the news, stating that the quake had originated miles away, as was often, fortunately, the case.

Sitting beside him, Skye could see that his mouth was tight. She parked the car and turned off the engine.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again gruffly. He didn’t look at her; his profile, bathed in the moonlight, showed his jaw to be flexing.

“I’m fine,” she insisted shakily.

Jordan expelled his breath forcefully. “Thank God.”

“Yes, I do! Thank Him, that is.” That Jordan should be so affected by what had happened brought an odd, breathless quality to her voice. She paused, unsure why she
was asking him the question. “Would it have mattered to you if I’d been hurt?” Perhaps she needed assurance that this magnetic attraction was mutual.

His laugh was harsh. “Yes, it matters.”

A puzzled frown marred her expression. What was wrong? He had been acting strangely ever since the quake. “Jordan, why are you so angry?”

He was silent for so long, Skye wondered if he’d heard her. “Jordan?” she repeated.

When he did turn toward her, his eyes were as hard as forged iron. “Maybe I don’t like the way I feel about you. Maybe I wished I could put you out of my mind and find someone who lived in the real world. You Christians, you think reading the Bible and mumbling a few prayers is going to solve everything.”

His words were so unexpected, Skye drew her breath in sharply.

“Well, I think it’s time you woke up, Pollyanna. You could have been killed tonight.”

“So what!” she spat angrily. “That isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. I might have blocked Christ out of my life. I might never have known God’s love.”
Or yours
, she added silently. “But … but you’re right about one thing, Jordan Kiley,” she said, her voice wobbling. “Maybe it is time I woke up.” Angrily she jerked open the car door.

“Skye.” The grim authority in his voice stopped her. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

“May I remind you this is the real world. I’ll do darn well as I please.” With a quickness born of anger, she jerked herself upright, ready to slam the car door.

“Skye, please.” His voice was an odd mixture of fury and pleading.

Unsure, she paused, taking several breaths to release the tension.

Both were silent for several minutes.

Finally Jordan opened his car door and stood. “Invite me in for coffee.”

Numbly she nodded.

Neither of them was interested in coffee, although Skye made the pretense of putting water on to boil. “All I have is instant.”

“Fine,” he muttered.

She stood with her back to him in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to whistle. With her thoughts a jumbled mess, she didn’t want to face Jordan, not yet.

Suddenly he was there, behind her. Skye could feel his breath stirring her hair; then his hand cupped her shoulder, pulling her against him. Weakly she submitted to the potency of his unspoken command. Silently she turned, her arms sliding around him, his chest a cushion where she could hear the ragged pounding of his heart. His fingers
tunneled through her hair, molding her head against him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said at last, his voice raspy.

She lifted her face, her eyes meeting his. She understood his message.

His finger lightly touched her lips before lifting her chin to meet his descending mouth. The kiss began gently and fleetingly but deepened until Jordan shuddered and firmly closed his mouth over hers. When his tongue outlined her lips, Skye groaned and moved away slightly. They were tampering with temptations beyond their strength.