his bottom lip, the
uninjured side, and shrugged. “Ran into a fist.”
“Yeah. I bet there’s more to the story than that.”
Father John had a great smile, which he bestowed on
them then as he looked back and forth between her and Chris a couple of times
and then at their hands interlocked between them. He shook his head. “I never
would have guessed . . . but God never ceases to amaze me.”
Chris glanced back at the long line of parishioners
waiting to greet Father John and inched them forward while clapping Father John
on the shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later this week,” Chris said as they
moved toward the exit.
***
Rebecca ran up the three steps to her door, yanked
her key off of her wrist and jammed it into the lock. She felt Chris on her
heels, the bag he carried for her bumping into her calves. The rain came in
blowing sheets now, and when she had managed at last to get it open, the storm
door blew out and allowed them quick entry.
She stripped off her sopping hoodie and dropped it
on the hook in her entryway. Chris set her bag down on the laminate floor,
careful to keep himself dripping on her mat.
“Do you want a towel to dry off?”
“Nah, I’m fine. I’d better get going.”
He didn’t move to leave then, and her gaze locked
on his. She watched as a tiny rivulet ran from his hair down his temple and
along his cheekbone, tracing the now-swollen and purple bruise along his jaw.
She raised her hand to caress it, but drew it back not so much afraid to hurt
him as she was nervous about what seemed like an intimate touch. Before she
could pull her hand back to her side, he took hold of it and laid it on his
face.
“I’m sorry about this.” She brushed the tender skin
with her fingertips.
“You have no reason to be sorry. We should have
slept in separate tents. I should’ve thought what it might look like.” His blue
eyes, lashes still wet with rainwater, focused on her.
“You offered, but if you remember, I was so chicken
I could barely sleep with you inside the tent.”
He smiled until the movement must have caused his
cheek some discomfort, and he winced. “Thank you for coming with me. It was
like seeing the park for the first time again through your eyes.”
She let her hand slide the length of his arm, cool
and wet. “It’s beautiful. I can see why you love it so much.”
He rested his hands on her waist, inching closer to
her, and the smell of campfire and bug spray lingered on him as he leaned in to
kiss her. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He’d given her
no more than a couple of pecks on the lips all weekend, but apparently now all
bets were off. The feel of his lips sent a chill through her already cool body,
but she warmed quickly—from the inside out—as his lips fused to hers, coaxing
her to surrender a little of the feeling simmering in her chest. She felt a
deep affection for Chris, even more so after the weekend they’d shared, so why
was this so difficult? His kiss was persistent, and eventually her heart
capitulated, her fervor overriding her reluctance. She knew the instant he felt
the response he sought because his hands tightened on her waist, and he
murmured, “I knew you were in there somewhere.” He pulled away from her ever so
slightly and pressed a final kiss to her lips. “Good night.”
“Good night, Chris.”
He tugged his collar close around his neck and
turned, letting himself out the door and closing it behind him. His feet
thudded down the slick wooden steps, the pattering of rain a steady backdrop,
and then the engine hummed as he drove away.
Deciding she couldn’t stay transfixed in a heady,
kiss-induced haze all night, she grabbed her bag and moved away from the door
just as someone pounded on the opposite side. At the same time, her cell phone
buzzed in her pocket. She slipped the phone out of her shorts and read the
one-word text message from Abby. “Sorry.”
Rebecca walked back to the door and
uninjured side, and shrugged. “Ran into a fist.”
“Yeah. I bet there’s more to the story than that.”
Father John had a great smile, which he bestowed on
them then as he looked back and forth between her and Chris a couple of times
and then at their hands interlocked between them. He shook his head. “I never
would have guessed . . . but God never ceases to amaze me.”
Chris glanced back at the long line of parishioners
waiting to greet Father John and inched them forward while clapping Father John
on the shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later this week,” Chris said as they
moved toward the exit.
***
Rebecca ran up the three steps to her door, yanked
her key off of her wrist and jammed it into the lock. She felt Chris on her
heels, the bag he carried for her bumping into her calves. The rain came in
blowing sheets now, and when she had managed at last to get it open, the storm
door blew out and allowed them quick entry.
She stripped off her sopping hoodie and dropped it
on the hook in her entryway. Chris set her bag down on the laminate floor,
careful to keep himself dripping on her mat.
“Do you want a towel to dry off?”
“Nah, I’m fine. I’d better get going.”
He didn’t move to leave then, and her gaze locked
on his. She watched as a tiny rivulet ran from his hair down his temple and
along his cheekbone, tracing the now-swollen and purple bruise along his jaw.
She raised her hand to caress it, but drew it back not so much afraid to hurt
him as she was nervous about what seemed like an intimate touch. Before she
could pull her hand back to her side, he took hold of it and laid it on his
face.
“I’m sorry about this.” She brushed the tender skin
with her fingertips.
“You have no reason to be sorry. We should have
slept in separate tents. I should’ve thought what it might look like.” His blue
eyes, lashes still wet with rainwater, focused on her.
“You offered, but if you remember, I was so chicken
I could barely sleep with you inside the tent.”
He smiled until the movement must have caused his
cheek some discomfort, and he winced. “Thank you for coming with me. It was
like seeing the park for the first time again through your eyes.”
She let her hand slide the length of his arm, cool
and wet. “It’s beautiful. I can see why you love it so much.”
He rested his hands on her waist, inching closer to
her, and the smell of campfire and bug spray lingered on him as he leaned in to
kiss her. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He’d given her
no more than a couple of pecks on the lips all weekend, but apparently now all
bets were off. The feel of his lips sent a chill through her already cool body,
but she warmed quickly—from the inside out—as his lips fused to hers, coaxing
her to surrender a little of the feeling simmering in her chest. She felt a
deep affection for Chris, even more so after the weekend they’d shared, so why
was this so difficult? His kiss was persistent, and eventually her heart
capitulated, her fervor overriding her reluctance. She knew the instant he felt
the response he sought because his hands tightened on her waist, and he
murmured, “I knew you were in there somewhere.” He pulled away from her ever so
slightly and pressed a final kiss to her lips. “Good night.”
“Good night, Chris.”
He tugged his collar close around his neck and
turned, letting himself out the door and closing it behind him. His feet
thudded down the slick wooden steps, the pattering of rain a steady backdrop,
and then the engine hummed as he drove away.
Deciding she couldn’t stay transfixed in a heady,
kiss-induced haze all night, she grabbed her bag and moved away from the door
just as someone pounded on the opposite side. At the same time, her cell phone
buzzed in her pocket. She slipped the phone out of her shorts and read the
one-word text message from Abby. “Sorry.”
Rebecca walked back to the door and
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