Heartsong

  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.

  Hi
s 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.

  “Skye,” he groaned into her hair. “I think you better make us that coffee.”

  Still dazed, she blinked her round eyes.

  “Would you like me to do it?” He brought down two mugs from the cupboard, more in command of his senses than she.

  “I’ll … I’ll pour, thanks.” She was composed by the time she brought their coffee into the living room. “Before I forget, Janey needs your address. She wants to write you a thank-you note. It was thoughtful of you to buy her such a nice gift.”

  “My pleasure.” He took the pen and pad from the coffee table and scribbled a few lines in bold, even strokes.

  “How much time do we have tomorrow before your date?” Jordan demanded, and frowned.

  “All day, really.” She wasn’t looking forward to this blind date. “Sally said I should be ready around seven thirty.”

  He nodded, his brows knitting together in an expression of disapproval.

  “Can we go sailing tomorrow?” She didn’t want to end the evening with another argument and hoped to steer their conversation away from any unpleasantness. “Brad and I share ownership in a small twenty-one-foot sloop. I think you’ll like it.”

  Jordan grinned and gave an approving nod. “As long as it’s understood I’m the captain and you’re the crew.”

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted him enthusiastically.

  “I’ll tolerate no insubordination,” he said crisply.

  “None, sir.”

  A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I could get to like this. All right, your first command is to walk me to the door and kiss me good night.”

  “Right away, sir.” She did as he requested, and by the time Jordan left the only thing cool was their coffee.

  “If I take the wings of the dawn, if I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, even there Thy hand will guide me and Thy right hand will take hold of me.”

  “What are you mumbling?” Jordan’s words shot past her in the brisk wind.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. Prying her hand loose from the mast, she gave him a tiny wave of reassurance, then grabbed hold again in a death grip.

  Once the sails were up, the sailboat immediately keeled, and Skye fought the sensation she would fall overboard. “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “just get me out of this alive.” Her mind whirled with the wind. All she needed to do now was tie off the sails in an eight-knot. But how does an eight-knot go? Every sailor’s daughter knows how to tie something so simple. How could she have forgotten? Everything fell into place suddenly, and Skye sighed in relief.

  She crawled on all fours back to Jordan in the cockpit, her heart in her throat.

  He seemed to be finding her escapades amusing, and there was no disguising the laughter in his eyes.

  “We’ve got a good brisk wind,” he said as she lowered herself to safety.

  “A brisk wind?” she said incredulously. “I’ve seen hurricanes of less force.”

  “I thought you said you were an experienced sailor.” His eyes were beaming with a wicked, teasing light.

  “It was only a slight exaggeration,” Skye said, defending herself. “I sailed with Brad and my father several times. I may even have managed to raise the sails once or twice, but never in winds like this.”

  Jordan laughed and motioned for her to join him. Skye went readily; fitting into his arms seemed to come naturally. Expertly Jordan maneuvered the helm through the open waters.

  “What were you mumbling up there? You looked very intent.”

  Lifting a strand of wind-driven hair from her face, she laughed. “I was talking to God, reminding Him that He said His right hand would guide me. I felt I needed it up there.”

  Some of the amusement left his eyes. “Do you always talk to God?”

  “Sure, that’s what’s known as prayer.” She smiled absently, enjoying the sensation of slicing through the water. It freed her spirit and lifted her soul.

  “You really believe in this Jesus stuff, don’t you?” His expression was thoughtful as he met her gaze.

  “With all my heart.” Her look, more than her words, stated the depth of her faith. “Is it so difficult for you to believe Jesus is God’s Son?”

  Jordan was quiet, as if turning the question over in his mind. Skye could see he was uncomfortable. “From the evidence that exists, Christ lived on earth. Whether He was who He said He was is another matter.”

  “Not if you examine the facts.” Skye didn’t want to be pushy. She had learned long ago that Christ was a gentleman who didn’t barge into someone’s life. He came only when invited.

  “I guess what I don’t understand is that you all seem to think God is so good, but look at all the evil and bad things that happen.”

  “That is difficult, isn’t it? I think one of the hardest things for me to accept as a Christian has been the belief that everything that happens to me is for my good.”

  Jordan gave a small unpleasant laugh. “Don’t try to tell me that crippling Billy was doing the poor kid a favor.”

  “No, but you’re missing an important point. God didn’t cause Billy’s accident. He did allow it to happen, but ultimately it will be for Billy’s good. A Christian must see that in every situation.”

  “Good grief,” he responded mockingly. “You really are a Pollyanna. Wasn’t that her game? The glad game? Finding something good in every situation?”

  Averting her face, Skye could feel a lump forming in her throat. “I guess it does sound childish to you, Jordan, but I’ve put absolute trust in my God, and I believe that whatever happens to me or those I love is for the best.”

  Jordan sighed, his look pensive. “Then I think we should agree to disagree.”

  A brooding unhappiness settled over Skye. How could their relationship continue if Jordan differed so strongly with her religious views? With an upward sweep of her lashes, Skye glanced at him. His dark gray eyes were masked and troubled. Skye yearned to reach out and touch him, to answer the doubts that plagued him. The need crescendoed until she thought she would weep with the agony of it. She wanted to trust God, longed for that intense faith that would lift her above her own doubts. Instead she sat beside him weary and fearful that she hadn’t explained herself well. Unexpectedly the sun broke through the heavy clouds, offering promise. Skye’s spirits soared; she needed a promise, something to hold on to until Jordan recognized the truth. Smiling, Skye turned her face heavenward in silent communication. She was ready to trust.

  “Hey, how about a sandwich?” she asked, feeling the need to lighten the mood. “I’m starved.”

  Jordan’s gaze swept slowly over her face. “All right, how about a ham on rye with mustard, mayo, and pickles?”

  “Yes, sir,” she responded with a twinkle in her eye. “One peanut butter and jelly coming up.”

  The sound of his amusement followed her as she went below.

  The mood became more serious as their discussion continued on other subjects. Although their opinions varied, and they were just as prone to argue over something as agree, their differences were not so far removed. Except for one—God and a personal relationship with Him.

  Jordan’s knowledge of music surprised Skye, and she noted how he cleverly steered the conversation to her singing.

  “You have a marvelous talent,” he reminded her. “I’d like for you to reconsider my offer and let Dan Murphy listen to you.”

  Skye laughed and dismissed his offer with a shrug.

  “You can be persistent, can’t you? Singing for money would take all the fun out of it for me. Besides, I already am a professional.”

  His eyes widened curiously.

  “Teacher,” Skye added.

  “Do you enjoy teac
hing that much?”

  Dragging her fingertips along the surface of the water, Skye straightened. “There are days I wonder, but then I’ve always loved children, and teaching is what I do best.”

  “You actually enjoy children?” He made it sound like a character defect.

  “I’m a teacher, I’d better,” she told him adamantly. “I think the younger the better. It’s difficult for me to watch Janey grow up. I see her developing into a young woman and it tears at my heart. I don’t want her to become independent and self-reliant. In the beginning it was almost as if Janey were my own child. She’s named after me, you know.” Skye laughed at his expression. “Poor kid, getting stuck with an ordinary name like Jane.”

  His eyes held hers with mocking reproof. “There’s nothing plain about you. But if you’re so keen on children, why don’t you have one?”

  “I will, if I marry.”

  “In case you haven’t heard, a girl doesn’t need to be married to have a baby,” he countered quickly, some of the teasing gone from his voice.

  “This girl does.”

  “I see. It’s like choking down your vegetables before being allowed to sample the delights of dessert.”

  Her eyes fell, avoiding his. “If that’s the way you want to look at marriage, then I guess so. Do you find marriage so objectionable?”

  His facial muscles softened, and the smile he gave her was warm and gentle. “No. As a matter of fact, I agree with you. I wanted to get married once, but the lady was more interested in a career than in a family—or in committing herself to one man, for that matter.”

  The woman had been mad, Skye decided, to reject Jordan’s love. “Do you still love her?” The question popped out before she had a chance to censor it. Just thinking Jordan loved another brought a sharp pain to her midsection.

  “No. Whatever I felt for her died long ago.”

  Skye risked a glance at Jordan and relaxed.

  “Do you still love him?” Jordan asked unexpectedly.

  “Who?”

  “The one you’ve been eating your heart out over.”

  Confused and unsure of how to respond, Skye looked away. “Yes, I guess I do.”