hundred bodies, the church heated up. Border felt a little dopey and was glad when the minister finished and the action resumed. Stand up for the singing, bow head for the prayers. Amen here, Amen there. Everyone, even Dana, always seemed to know what to do. Border followed, a beat behind.
“Lovely, lovely,” people murmured after the final hymn.
“I need to get out of here,” Liz whispered.
“Too hot?” Border asked. “I was feeling a little groggy.” He followed her through the slow-moving crowd, out the door and onto the broad front steps. The cold night air jerked him awake.
Liz banged the stair rail. “I cannot believe that he actually used the word ‘infidel’.”
Border frowned. Infidel? Missed that. Maybe he had fallen asleep.
“I don’t understand,” she said, “how one human being can stand up in front of other equally intelligent human beings and actually claim that he knows what God is thinking. How can he do that?”
“That’s his job.”
“Some job.”
“You surprise me, Liz.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I know you’re pretty religious—”
“I am, but don’t make assumptions. Don’t you dare make assumptions about what that means.”
Whoa. Oh-kay. Wouldn’t think of it. He gestured toward the door. “I thought you liked this. That’s my only assumption.”
“I love the singing, Border. I love the people. I love to pray. I believe in…things. I hate preaching.”
“Generally, or just tonight?”
“Generally. The whole idea of it.”
“I liked it.”
“You were asleep.”
Possibly. “I was not. It was my first time, and I enjoyed it. I liked the way everyone knew what to do. When to sing, what to say.”
“Auto-pilot religion.”
“It didn’t feel that way. It felt like…belonging. I liked that.”
“Sure,” Liz said. “You’re free to belong. You’re welcome. You’re not an infidel.”
“I think you’re being too critical. I think—” He caught himself. Why was he defending her church?
Liz smirked and started to speak—something sharp, with barbs. He could feel it coming.
The church door opened and Liz zipped her lips. Border smiled. Saved.
“Sneakin’ smokes, kids?”
Border and Liz looked around and stood up straight.
“Hello, Mrs. Zipoti,” Liz said. “We’re just cooling off.” Border remembered two late assignments and sagged in his new suit.
“Too much fire and brimstone, eh? Can’t say I disagree. Have you kids met Mr. Zipoti? Probably not. I only let him out once a year.” She—alone—enjoyed the joke while Liz and Border acknowledged the man behind her. He paused long enough from his pipe-lighting to nod.
“Liz, you did a wonderful job on that reproduction assignment. This sex unit is a tough one, but it looks like you’ll pull off your usual A. Border, I don’t think I saw a paper from you.”
He ran a hand nervously up a four-hundred-dollar lapel. When in doubt, make a joke. “Gosh, Mrs. Zipoti. I didn’t think I should write it until I tried it.”
Mr. Zipoti laughed, but then sucked air at the wrong moment and took in smoke. Ha ha, hack hack. His wife swatted him on the back. He recovered.
“Thanks, dear. I’d be a dead man without you.”
“Glad you admit it.” She turned back to Border. He felt the heat of her gaze. Why didn’t the snow melt?
“Funny boy, Border, but have it on my desk by Friday, or zero points. Can you afford zero points?”
“No, Mrs. Zipoti.”
“Well, then.” She slipped her arm through her husband’s. “Look at these steps, Caleb. We Methodists are much better at shoveling, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Midge.”
Liz and Border watched them walk carefully down the steps. “Let’s go in,” she said, after the couple had walked away. “I don’t want to meet any more teachers and I’m done complaining.”
Border didn’t move.
“My toes are freezing.”
Nothing.
“What’s the matter? Worried about those zero points? Just write the stupid
“Lovely, lovely,” people murmured after the final hymn.
“I need to get out of here,” Liz whispered.
“Too hot?” Border asked. “I was feeling a little groggy.” He followed her through the slow-moving crowd, out the door and onto the broad front steps. The cold night air jerked him awake.
Liz banged the stair rail. “I cannot believe that he actually used the word ‘infidel’.”
Border frowned. Infidel? Missed that. Maybe he had fallen asleep.
“I don’t understand,” she said, “how one human being can stand up in front of other equally intelligent human beings and actually claim that he knows what God is thinking. How can he do that?”
“That’s his job.”
“Some job.”
“You surprise me, Liz.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I know you’re pretty religious—”
“I am, but don’t make assumptions. Don’t you dare make assumptions about what that means.”
Whoa. Oh-kay. Wouldn’t think of it. He gestured toward the door. “I thought you liked this. That’s my only assumption.”
“I love the singing, Border. I love the people. I love to pray. I believe in…things. I hate preaching.”
“Generally, or just tonight?”
“Generally. The whole idea of it.”
“I liked it.”
“You were asleep.”
Possibly. “I was not. It was my first time, and I enjoyed it. I liked the way everyone knew what to do. When to sing, what to say.”
“Auto-pilot religion.”
“It didn’t feel that way. It felt like…belonging. I liked that.”
“Sure,” Liz said. “You’re free to belong. You’re welcome. You’re not an infidel.”
“I think you’re being too critical. I think—” He caught himself. Why was he defending her church?
Liz smirked and started to speak—something sharp, with barbs. He could feel it coming.
The church door opened and Liz zipped her lips. Border smiled. Saved.
“Sneakin’ smokes, kids?”
Border and Liz looked around and stood up straight.
“Hello, Mrs. Zipoti,” Liz said. “We’re just cooling off.” Border remembered two late assignments and sagged in his new suit.
“Too much fire and brimstone, eh? Can’t say I disagree. Have you kids met Mr. Zipoti? Probably not. I only let him out once a year.” She—alone—enjoyed the joke while Liz and Border acknowledged the man behind her. He paused long enough from his pipe-lighting to nod.
“Liz, you did a wonderful job on that reproduction assignment. This sex unit is a tough one, but it looks like you’ll pull off your usual A. Border, I don’t think I saw a paper from you.”
He ran a hand nervously up a four-hundred-dollar lapel. When in doubt, make a joke. “Gosh, Mrs. Zipoti. I didn’t think I should write it until I tried it.”
Mr. Zipoti laughed, but then sucked air at the wrong moment and took in smoke. Ha ha, hack hack. His wife swatted him on the back. He recovered.
“Thanks, dear. I’d be a dead man without you.”
“Glad you admit it.” She turned back to Border. He felt the heat of her gaze. Why didn’t the snow melt?
“Funny boy, Border, but have it on my desk by Friday, or zero points. Can you afford zero points?”
“No, Mrs. Zipoti.”
“Well, then.” She slipped her arm through her husband’s. “Look at these steps, Caleb. We Methodists are much better at shoveling, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Midge.”
Liz and Border watched them walk carefully down the steps. “Let’s go in,” she said, after the couple had walked away. “I don’t want to meet any more teachers and I’m done complaining.”
Border didn’t move.
“My toes are freezing.”
Nothing.
“What’s the matter? Worried about those zero points? Just write the stupid
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