[Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm by Janette Oke Page A

tomorrow.
    His arm tightened. “Have you thought about it?”
    “I have.”
    “And... ?” he prompted when she went no further.
    “How ... how long do I have to wait for this date?” she asked, surprised at herself.
    “An hour or two. Maybe less if you coax me.”
    She laughed again. “In that case—what about tomorrow morning?”
    “Tomorrow morning? That’s better than I dared hope.” His arm pulled her closer against his side. “So where do we get to go tomorrow morning?”
    “To church,” she answered without hesitation.
    “Church?”
    She could hear the shock in his tone. It brought her a deep disappointment.
    “You don’t have to—if you’d rather not,” she was quick to amend.
    To her surprise he reached out to encircle her in his arms. “No,” he said, sounding as if he had recovered. “A promise is a promise. Just ... fill me in. What am I to do ... and when?”

    True to his word, Boyd picked Christine up for church promptly at 9:45 the next morning. She could tell it was all very new to him. Very strange. She could feel him watching her closely to see how he should participate in the service. She smiled at him often and tried to make him feel at ease.
    After the service several people greeted him, and she introduced him to any of those whose names she knew. But she could tell he was anxious to get away from the small congregation. He was edging toward the car, and she allowed herself to be led away as soon as she could do so without being rude.
    “Well,” he said once he was behind the wheel. “That was a new experience.”
    “Thank you,” said Christine. “For going with me, I mean.”
    He merely nodded.
    “Have you really never been to church before?” she dared ask.
    “Never.”
    “That’s sad. You’ve missed so much.”
    He did not respond.
    “Did your ... your mother attend church?” Christine knew she might be getting too personal, but she wanted to know.
    “I don’t remember Mother.” It was said too sharply.
    “I’m sorry,” she said again.
    “Look,” he said, angrily turning to her. “There’s not a thing you have done—or can do—about my mother. No sorrys. They don’t fix anything. So let’s just not bring it up, okay?”
    Christine was shocked by his obvious emotional trauma. She wanted to say sorry again but didn’t dare. She just nodded.
    The stormy interchange was over as quickly as it had come. He looked at her and smiled. Even reached out for her hand. “Where should we go for dinner?” he said as if nothing had happened.
    There had been no arrangement made for dinner. Christine’s landlady would be expecting her at the boardinghouse table.
    “Mrs. Green is expecting ...”
    “Phooey on Mrs. Green,” he said dismissively. “She won’t even notice you’re gone. Besides, all she cares about is getting the money. As long as she has full pay, she’ll be glad she didn’t have to feed you.”
    “You don’t know Mrs. Green. She doesn’t even serve anyone until all of us are at the table.”
    “A cuff on the side of the head to Mrs. Green. She sounds like a spoilsport to me.”
    She managed a light laugh. “Maybe next time.”
    When they got to her place, he pulled over to the curb. Before she could thank him or open her door, he reached out and held her arm. His other hand raked through his hair with spread fingers.
    “Look, Christine,” he said. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. About today.”
    She swallowed nervously.
    “I ... I don’t think I can handle going to your church again. It makes me feel creepy. All that singing and talking about a guy who’s been dead for nearly two thousand years. That’s really not where I’m at.”
    She could have protested. The “guy” he talked about was not dead. He was alive. But all she did was nod her head. That painful little sadness tugged at her heart again. It hadn’t worked. Their worlds were too far apart. She should have known. She gave one more nod and turned to