Chapter Five #2
Was she that transparent? Skye wondered seconds before his mouth easily fit over hers. The urgency of his kiss parted her
lips, and she succumbed to the tide of sweetness that swept through her.
Embracing was awkward: The unyielding cast of his broken arm pressed painfully against her ribs as his free hand moved down
the curve of her spine. But the only sensation her mind registered was the rightness of being in his arms.
“While you’re in church, say a prayer for me,” Jordan said thickly, his voice slightly ragged.
Her voice wasn’t any steadier. “I will.”
The hand positioning her against him relaxed, as if he realized it must be uncomfortable for her. Skye shook her head but
lowered her gaze, struggling against the magnetic pull of his eyes.
“What time does school let out these days? Maybe we can go sailing tomorrow afternoon.”
“There’s no school . . . it’s spring break. Oh, Jordan, I can’t.” Regret filled her voice. “I promised Billy I was coming.
Sally is making arrangements for me to take him outside the hospital for the day. I couldn’t disappoint him.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. How about Tuesday?”
“I’d like that.” She didn’t even attempt to disguise her enthusiasm.
“I’ll pick you up at ten.”
Halfway out the door, Skye called to him. “Jordan.”
He stopped and turned around.
“I am going to pray for you.”
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. “Do that,” he said softly, and left.
On Monday Skye impulsively drove by and picked up her niece before stopping at the hospital for Billy. The two had met several
times previously and seemed to enjoy each other.
“Hiya, Sprout.”
Billy was in his wheelchair waiting. “Hi, Skye; hi, Janey.” His eyes lit up eagerly.
“Okay, you two, we have the whole day ahead of us. Where would you like to go?”
“Chinatown,” they shouted in unison.
“Chinatown,” she moaned, as if it were some great tragedy, but a laugh lay barely beneath the surface. San Francisco’s Chinatown
was exciting. The largest community of Chinese people living together outside Asia, in many ways it seemed like visiting a
foreign country.
Skye located a parking place with easy access to the well-defined area, and soon the three made their way down the crowded
streets.
Billy insisted upon handling the wheelchair himself, but Skye found it necessary to help him several times as they moved up
and down the narrow, hilly streets on and off Grant Avenue. Several of the stores had sidewalk displays, and Billy was able
to investigate their wares without having to maneuver his wheelchair through the narrow shop doors.
They stopped to eat lunch in a nearby restaurant. Ushered by the waiter, they were given their own private dining room. Both
children loved the privacy and took delight in teasing each other, especially over the chopsticks.
The food was delicious. Janey and Billy quickly devoured the traditional Chinese dishes, leaving Skye to sample the more exotic ones. The fortune cookies were the highlight of the meal as far as either child was concerned.
“What’s yours say, Skye?” Billy wanted to know.
To appease them both she examined the tiny slip. The words seemed to reach out and slap her. beware of the stranger dark and
bold. stay true to your love of long ago.
“It says—” She faltered slightly. “—it’s time to take Billy back to the hospital.”
They both objected, but not strenuously. Billy fell asleep in the car, and Janey was unusually quiet. Whether it was because
she was exhausted, too, or as a thoughtful gesture so as not to wake Billy, Skye didn’t question.
As the silence settled over the car, the message of the fortune cookie kept repeating itself in her confused brain. It was
uncanny, inexplicable, and the words deeply troubled her. Was God using this silly fortune to warn her about Jordan? The words
echoed through her mind a hundred times as she drove from the hospital to her brother’s house. Although she’d made the proper
responses when spoken to at the hospital, her mind was far from the matters at hand. It was something she couldn’t explain
or reason away. Above all else, Skye realized that nothing in her life happened by accident. God had a purpose in everything,
no matter how minute.
Home looked good; her feet hurt after the extended hike. After hanging her jacket in the entryway closet, she went directly
to the Bible set on the nightstand. For all her Bible study and all the verses she’d memorized over the years, she didn’t
know what to make of the message of the fortune cookie.
“Dear Jesus,” she began silently, sitting cross-legged across the top of her bed.
“I don’t know why You allowed this message to come to me, or if it has any significance at all.
I realize You guide me through life and I am trusting You.
Thank you, Lord, for sending Jordan into my life.
At first I didn’t know how to handle the feeling he awoke within me.
Although I find myself still unsure, I’m far less afraid.
I’m asking You, Lord, to guide me in this relationship. I desire only Your will in my life.”
Familiar with several books in the Bible, Skye read until she felt a soothing peace come over her spirit.
Because the situation was in God’s hands, Skye forgot it, later fixing herself a light dinner. While she was washing the dishes
her phone rang.
“Hello, Pollyanna. Been saying your prayers like a good girl?”
“Hello, Jordan.” It felt good to hear the sound of his voice, and she didn’t take exception to his greeting. “And, yes, I
have been saying my prayers, including a few for you.”
“I’m going to need them. Listen, Blue Eyes, I’ve got to cancel tomorrow. Things have gotten out of hand here in LA without
me. I flew back this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Disappointment settled over her. Jordan had left the city. “That’s all right,” she assured him. Nervously her fingers
looped a strand of ashen hair around her ear.
“It’s not all right,” Jordan said impatiently.
The doorbell rang, jerking her attention to the apartment door. “Jordan, there’s someone at my door. Hold on . . . or do you
want to hang up?”
“No, I don’t want to hang up. Answer the door,” he said, and sighed heavily in irritation.
Laying the phone on the small table beside her davenport, Skye rushed to answer the repeated buzz. If it was John Dirkson,
she thought, she’d scream.
She didn’t, of course. “Yes?” she said brusquely, hoping she sounded as unfriendly as she felt.
Indolently John placed himself between Skye and the door. “Hi, yourself. I’m just being neighborly. I wonder if you happen
to have a tube of anchovy paste?”
“Anchovy paste?” Skye laughed. “No, John, I don’t normally keep anchovy paste lying around.”
“Maybe you should look,” he persisted. “One never knows what lurks in the backs of cupboards.”
“Listen,” she said pointedly, glancing back into her living room, “I’m on the phone and it’s important.”
John beamed her one of the irresistible smiles meant to melt the defenses of the most determined woman. “I don’t mind waiting.”
Before she could stop him, he had let himself in, sunk down on the davenport, and made himself at home.
Skye sighed in frustration. “Jordan,” she began self-consciously, “it’s my neighbor.”
“So I heard,” Jordan said in a voice that sounded very much like a snarl. “I want to talk to you, Skye. Get rid of him.”
Skye turned her back to John and cupped her hand over the mouth of the receiver. “I tried,” she whispered spiritedly. Jordan
was out of sorts; Skye could feel his impatience. “I want to talk to you, too,” she added so there would be no doubt where
her preference lay.
His breath was expelled harshly. “All right, I’ll phone back in ten minutes. Will that give you enough time?”
“Yes . . . yes, I think so.”
Actually it took her only five minutes and a few choice words to show John exactly what she thought of his rude behavior.
Because of his unfailing belief in his male charm, Skye’s repeated rejection had fueled a challenge too blatant to be ignored.
When she told him that if he bothered her again she would contact the apartment manager, John looked totally confused. Women
didn’t usually treat his attention lightly.
The phone only rang once. “Jordan?”
He didn’t bother with a greeting. “Is he gone?”
“Yes, he’s gone.” She took the phone and curled up on the davenport. “And good riddance.” She laughed lightly.
“As I was saying,” Jordan began again, “I’ve had a change in plans. I’ve got to cancel tomorrow, but I should be in Frisco in about two weeks. How about dinner then?”
“Fine,” Skye said shamelessly. She didn’t even bother to look at her calendar; if other plans had been made, she’d cancel
them. Being with Jordan was worth more than anything she could have scheduled.
“Oh, and while I’m thinking about it, give me the full name of that singer from the hospital again. I’d like to have Dan Murphy
contact her. From the little I heard, the girl’s got talent, exceptional talent.”
“Dan Murphy?”
“He’s the fellow who owns the radio station that employs yours truly.”
“Oh.” Skye had backed herself into a corner, forced to tell another white lie. “I told you her name is Jane, but honestly,
Jordan, I don’t think she’s interested.”
“You sound jealous.” It was an accusation that rankled.
“That’s ridiculous,” she denied. “It’s just that I find it disconcerting to have you phone me to ask about another woman.”
They spoke for only a few minutes longer, the conversation suddenly stilted and unnatural. Skye replaced the receiver with
a heavy heart. Her father had told her several years ago that a liar is a fool who buries himself with deceit. And here she was digging her own grave. Skye had always thought of herself as an honest person, yet somehow she had fallen
into the habit of telling white lies. Had she been living a lie for so long that it had become second nature for her to utter
half-truths indiscriminately? She had lied to herself and lied to God for eight years. Darn you, Jordan Kiley, she thought, for what you’re doing to me, and bless you, too, for forcing me into the light.
Skye didn’t hear from Jordan for the remainder of the week. She’d scheduled several projects for herself, including painting
the kitchen and some spring cleaning, so her days were full and busy. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed
that Jordan hadn’t called. It had become of primary importance that she talk to him and explain her deception. She hadn’t
meant to lie; it had begun as a joke but had soon ballooned into a full-scale untruth.
The following Monday morning the children were happy and excited to be back in school. Skye had always loved children and
was normally very patient, but by early afternoon she found herself snapping and fidgeting.
“How many times have I told you not to run in the classroom, David? How many?” she lashed out at the youngster from her desk.
Five-year-old David stared at her, his lower lip quivering. “I’m sorry, Miss Garvin, I won’t run again.”
Yelling was no way to deal effectively with children, and Skye immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry, too, David. I shouldn’t
have shouted.”
What had gotten into her to behave this way with the children? The answer was obvious. Misleading Jordan was weighing heavily
on her mind, and she desperately needed to clear up things between them.
Tuesday night, after fulfilling her volunteer duties, Skye remained later than usual waiting for Sally. A melody had been
running through her mind most of the day, so while Sally finished up a few odds and ends Skye sat at the piano in the reception
room. Slowly her fingers moved over the keys, transcribing the melody into notes. The pencil held in her mouth was jerked
from its location countless times as she scratched out the notes and marked new ones on the music sheet. Finally satisfied,
she set the pencil down, ready to play the piece through.
The familiar sound of Sally’s footsteps echoed from the back of the room.
“Listen to this,” Skye commanded without turning, not wishing to break her concentration. Her fingers played the first chords
of the introduction, filling the silent room with vibrating sound. The song had a natural rhythm, and Skye stopped only once
to change a single note. The music was bright and breezy, as her songs often were, with the kind of melodies that made people
want to sing along and tap their feet. As the final notes faded, Skye smiled in satisfaction. A sense of accomplishment came
over her. It was a good beginning, and the words were beginning to form in her mind.
“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” she asked Sally, turning toward her friend.
But it wasn’t Sally who stood behind her.
“Jordan,” she whispered in disbelief.
“Hello, Jane,” he said, and glared at her.
“Jordan . . .” Skye began, but stopped abruptly at the mistrust she saw in his eyes.
“You lied.” His voice grated. “After all your pretty church talk, you out and out lied.” With that, he walked out of the room.