Faithfully Yours. Lois Richer
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of a life for a child,” she added finally.
He looked surprised.
“Actually it was a very good life. I was able to spend much of the summer studying for the next term. My grades were very good, and I finished my O levels a year ahead of schedule.”
Gillian set the coffee to perk and waved him into the living room. She wanted to tell him that his rigid life-style had robbed him of the carefree play of a child, but who was she to judge. She could only sympathize with the little boy who had spent his time working on the Dewey decimal system for artifacts.
She had just poured them each a cup of the fragrant, steaming coffee when Hope’s doorbell rang. It was Pastor Dave, in his usual jovial mood.
“I knew you two would be here,” he said happily, his booted feet thumping heavily across the floor. “Heard about your good news, too. Congratulations.” His round shiny face beamed down at them both.
Gillian could feel the tide of red suffusing her cheeks, as she realized from his sparkling glance that he’d heard about their supposed engagement from Faith.
“Well, thanks anyway, Pastor,” she murmured, glancing at Jeremy’s gaping mouth. “But we’re not engaged. Mr. Nivens and I are merely colleagues.”
“Oh, I remember. Faith did say you and your beau were trying to keep things quiet. I’ll respect your privacy, Gilly, girl. Don’t you worry. At least for a while.” He winked and patted her shoulder, then whooshed down onto the sofa.
Gillian gritted her teeth and willed him to listen.
“You don’t understand, Pastor. Jeremy and I aren’t engaged. Not at all.” She glanced at her supposed intended for confirmation and saw a glimmer of mirth deep in his eyes. He couldn’t be enjoying this, could he?
“Oh, you’ve had a little tiff, I suppose. Everybody has them, sweetie. You just have to work through your problems. And at least you’re doing that now before you’re married.” Dave patted her hand consolingly. “That’s a good sign that you two are adults, willing to compromise and accommodate the other’s point of view. Now about the youth group,” he winked at them both as they sat on either side of him, mouths hanging open in consternation.
“I just know you and your honey here will make good team leaders for the kids. I’ve arranged for them to go to Tyndale’s farm on Friday night and play Capture the Flag, and I thought you two might like to come along and watch.” He beamed down on them happily. “Next week you’re on your own.”
As the hefty minister lunged to his feet, Gillian glared at Jeremy. Do something, she telegraphed, and breathed a sigh of relief as he, also, stood up.
“I don’t think Gillian, er, that is, Miss Langford and I, well, we don’t exactly know just how to, well, deal with…”
He stopped abruptly when the reverend slapped him soundly on the back and bubbled with laughter.
“Course you don’t, son,” Dave chortled happily. “But you’re smart young folk with lots of schoolin’. I have every faith that God will lead you in your dealings with these young people. Anyway, it will be good practice for when your own come, eh!” He chuckled with glee at their surprised faces.
“Meet you at the church in half an hour,” his jovial voice chided them. “Don’t be late.” He surged through the room toward the front door, sniggering to himself as he went. “Well, well. A wedding. Haven’t done one of those in a while.”
Gillian sank onto the sofa, her knees buckling under the strain as she stared up at her intended. “Could you please stop this freight train?” she asked helplessly. “I think I want to get off.”
She heard his hiss of disgust as Jeremy moved in front of her. The silver in his eyes glittered at her like steel, and his mouth was pursed in a hard, straight line of blame.
“Well, it’s just a bit late for that, Miss Langford,” he accused. “Especially now that the whole town thinks we’re about to be married, honey!”
“Look,” she began, anger poking at the way he was hinting that this was all her fault. “I was only trying to spare your aunt. She was just a little confused, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared furiously at her, his mouth grim.
“Well, you’ve made it much worse,” he complained bitterly. “Now we’ve got the minister planning our wedding.”
Gillian felt the chill of those cold gray eyes move over her with disgust as he said, “I don’t want to get married. And especially not to a woman who is so obviously the opposite of everything I could want in my wife.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “If I wanted one, that is. Which I don’t”
Gillian felt tears of anger press against her eyelids, but there was no way she was giving in. Not with him standing there watching.
“Believe me,” she enunciated clearly, determined that he would hear every word. “If I ever chose to be engaged again, which I won’t, it certainly wouldn’t be to some old-fashioned, stuffed shirt from the middle ages.”
He glared at her for so long Gillian thought his eyebrows would be completely lost in his dark mussed-up hair. His words when they came, were soft and menacing.
“Better to be old-fashioned than an airhead with no sense of responsibility. Good night!”
“Good night!”
He turned without a second look and stomped his way to the front door, collecting his suit jacket on the way. Gillian was smugly amused to see that somehow during the evening his tie had loosened and several shirt buttons had come undone. Jeremy Nivens also had taco sauce on his pristine vest, she noticed with satisfaction. Some of the superiority disappeared as she glanced in Hope’s mirror and noted the state of her own disheveled appearance.
“Just a minute,” she cried as he strode down the steps. At her words he stopped dead in his place and waited for her to catch up.
“What are we going to do about the youth group? Pastor Dave is expecting us to take over next week. We’re supposed to be there tonight.”
When he looked at her, Gillian flinched at the anger emanating from his frosty gaze.
“Just another situation you’ve entangled us in, Miss Langford.” His face was carved in those hard, bitter lines that had been missing for a while tonight.
“Well,” she murmured quietly, “are you going to tell him that you can’t do it?” She waited expectantly for his answer.
“No,” he bellowed, sending her reeling in shock. “I let him go away believing I would help, and I will. I’ll set up a six-week Bible study for them.”
Gillian stared at him, frowning.
“A Bible study,” she murmured quizzically. “They usually do something fun on weekends. The Bible studies are on Wednesday evenings.” She peered up at him curiously.
“Very well, then.” Jeremy jumped over the side of the car and vaulted into the seat with a move Gillian had only seen in the movies. It was proof positive that there was a lot more to the man than she had suspected, when he could make a move like that so easily.
“You plan their events,” he muttered angrily. “I’ll plan the food.” He drove away without a single grinding of gears while she stood there staring after him. Jeremy Nivens was going to provide the food? As she walked back into the house, Gillian grimaced. What would the youth of Mossbank have to eat at their weekly get-togethers? she asked herself. Toast and jam? Or his American version of tea and crumpets? She dismissed the thought as uncharitable and not worthy of her and raced upstairs to change into her jeans and sneakers. If she was going to do this, and it looked like she was, she couldn’t afford to be late for the first night.
To say that the youth group meeting that evening was a