Chapter Five
Hauling her guitar, Bible, and purse from the parking lot to the church, Skye found Peggy waiting for her in the foyer.
“Skye,” Peggy said, looking troubled and uncertain, “I like your hair. When did you have it cut?” she asked haltingly.
“Yesterday afternoon . . . And thanks, I like it, too.” She accepted the compliment but wondered how long it would take Peggy
to notice the real change.
Tears shimmered in Peggy’s eyes. “I want to apologize for yesterday. I was blunt and rude. Will you forgive me?” It was apparent
from her hurried speech that their conversation had weighed heavily on her mind.
Tears misted Skye’s deep blue eyes as well. “Of course I will, Peg. But there’s no need to apologize. Most of what you said
was true.”
“Perhaps, but there were nicer ways of saying it.” Her fingers wiped away the moisture from her cheek, and she gave a half
laugh. “We better get to class before we turn into Water Works, Incorporated, right here in the church foyer.”
Skye was touched by the thoughtfulness of her sister-in-law. “I’ll talk to you later.” Impulsively she set her guitar down and gave Peggy an affectionate hug before making her way to the Youth Department downstairs.
Working with the youth Sunday mornings offered Skye a challenge completely different from her kindergartners, one Skye enjoyed.
She was the Sunday School teacher for the eighth-grade group and was also in charge of the opening Sunday services.
She was met in the large room by several enthusiastic hoots. The youths had always been known for their liveliness, and Skye
responded with a ready smile.
The songs she led were some of the standard ones the teens enjoyed. She wandered around the room, her fingers moving agilely
over the guitar strings. She paused, seeing two of the younger teen girls passing notes. Past experience had taught her that
if she brought pressure from within their own peer group, any behavior problems cleared up quickly.
She stopped the song. “All right, girls.” She didn’t mention names but pointedly fixed her gaze on the offending class members.
“This isn’t the Woody Woodpecker Hour.”
The whole class burst into laughter.
“Yeah, girls, shape up,” one boy shouted, and several girls responded by sticking out their tongues.
Skye resumed the song before things got out of hand, and soon everyone was singing again. And there was no more note-passing.
Skye left church feeling elated and cheerful. The pastor’s sermon had reinforced the insights revealed the day before, and
she was amazed at how persistent her blindness had been.
The aroma of meat and vegetables slowly cooking in a Crock-Pot met her as she entered her apartment.
Skye usually ate her main meal at lunchtime on Sundays, a tradition her family had followed.
Sundays were centered on the morning and evening worship services, and it was convenient to eat the main meal of the day at lunchtime.
Skye had lingered over the morning paper and was changing her clothes when the phone rang.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully, expecting Peggy.
“Good afternoon,” Jordan responded.
Instantly her heartbeat accelerated. She needed to explain yesterday’s outburst, and it wasn’t going to come easy. She so
seldom lost her temper like that.
“Hello, Jordan.” She hardly knew where to start. “I’m glad you phoned . . . I feel I owe you an apology.”
“Good.” His crisp voice seemed to mock her. “I’ll take you to lunch, and you can tell me all about it. I’ll be there in twenty
minutes.”
The connection was broken, and Skye was left listening to the hum of the dial tone. Skye shrugged. He hadn’t even asked her.
Jordan Kiley could be the most infuriating man. What if she had already made plans for the afternoon? She often did with her
niece, Janey. Apparently any arrangements she’d made were of no consequence. She wasn’t angry, but bemused. Jordan’s personality
was commanding and forceful, as if he was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. What an enigmatic man he was.
The doorbell rang well within the allotted twenty minutes. His smile was warm and lazy when she opened the door.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready?” Her round blue eyes feigned ignorance.
“I thought we were going out to eat.” His gaze narrowed slightly.
“I don’t remember your asking,” she said matter-of-factly.
Catching a glimpse of the table set for two in her tiny kitchenette, Jordan expelled his breath. “You’re expecting someone.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.
“Yes, I am. You.”
His gaze swiveled back to her, his thick brows knit in confusion.
“If you’d have asked me, Jordan, I’d have told you I had a meal ready in the Crock-Pot. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”
He seemed to relax. Had the suspicion she was expecting someone else bothered him? The pleasure this bit of evidence brought
overrode any sense of outrage at his presumptuous behavior.
His free hand gently caressed the soft flesh of her upper arm before he placed a tender kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll be right back. I have a car and driver waiting.”
Skye watched him leave. She didn’t know what it was about his touch that brought her senses to life. A kiss, the feather-light
stroke of his hand, gave her undeniable pleasure.
Steaming bowls of Irish stew had been placed on the table by the time he returned. The smell of fresh sourdough bread filled
the apartment as she drew it from the oven.
“Lunch is ready,” she said, feeling awkward.
Once they were seated, Jordan paused, waiting for Skye to begin eating.
“Do you mind if we pray?” she asked unsteadily.
He arched his brows expressively. “I suspect you want more than the prayer my father taught me.” His eyes were smiling. “You
know the one: Good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat.”
Skye couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, I guess I do.”
“You do the honors then.”
Skye bowed her head, her hands folded. “Father, thank you for this meal and for abundantly supplying all our needs. Bless
Jordan and the time we spend together. In Your precious name. Amen.”
When she lifted her head, she discovered Jordan was watching her intently, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“Before we eat,” she began haltingly, “I think I’d feel a whole lot better if I could explain about yesterday.”
The smiling sparkle returned to his smoky gray eyes. “Bothers you, does it?”
She lowered her gaze, pretending to study the thick bowl of stew. “The car breaking down was a culmination of several other
things. I’d had a rather disconcerting conversation with my sister-in-law, and I got caught in that cloudburst . . . and,
well, I feel I overreacted. I don’t often blow up like that, and . . .”
He reached across the small table and gently squeezed her trembling hand. “It’s forgotten. Feel better?”
She smiled and nodded.
“I have to admit, however, the thought of you burning your bra is an appealing one.”
Skye could feel the color invade her face, burning her cheeks. “A gentleman would have forgotten I said that.”
“I’m no gentleman.” His mouth quirked with the effort to suppress a laugh.
“I noticed.” Determinedly Skye began eating, refusing to let him see how he had embarrassed her.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
Skye didn’t understand the question, and glanced at him quizzically.
“Did you and your date have a good time last night?” It was a polite inquiry without a hint of jealousy or resentment. Apparently
she’d misread him earlier; he really didn’t care if she was with someone else or not.
“I tried phoning. You were out.”
Darn, she’d forgotten his phone call. “Oh, last night . . .” Her mind worked furiously. “Yes . . . yes, I did. I was invited
to a party.” Another half-truth. John Dirkson had invited her, but Skye had never considered attending. She hadn’t stepped
out of her apartment all evening.
They played three games of backgammon after their meal.
Jordan won the first two and showed no mercy.
Skye won the third because she was tired of being Ms. Nice Guy and suffered no qualms about putting him off the board.
She half expected Jordan to be angry, but when she replaced his man for the third time, she saw a glimmer of respect enter his eyes.
Afterward they sat talking while they drank several cups of coffee. They found their tastes were surprisingly similar in several
areas. It was when they were discussing music that he questioned her about the hospital singer for the second time.
“What’s her name again?” he asked with undisguised interest.
“Jane.” A lump knotted her stomach.
“She’s a talented lady.”
“So she’s been told.” This was the very reason Skye didn’t want him to know it was she. It embarrassed her to discuss her
gift. And that was exactly what it was—a gift. She had done nothing to earn it and had always been ill at ease accepting compliments.
“Oh, dear, look at the time.” She stood abruptly. “It’s six already. I’ve got to be at church soon.” But she had plenty of
time; the evening service didn’t start until six thirty.
“Church again?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe her.
“Yes, would you like to come? I’d be pleased to have you meet our pastor. I know you’ll like him. My brother and his family
will be there, too.”
Jordan stood and put his coffee cup in the sink. “Another time perhaps.”
She wasn’t disappointed. Skye was playing the piano for the service tonight, and he was sure to guess she was the hospital
singer if he heard her.
Walking with Jordan to the small entryway, Skye could feel the muscles of her stomach begin to twitch. Was he going to try
to kiss her again? Should she pretend she didn’t want him to?
“Yes, I’m going to kiss you,” he teased.
Her startled blue eyes flew open, and he gently gripped her arm, bringing her to his side. “You’re very easy to read sometimes.”
The pressure of his grip moved from her arm to the back of her neck, slowly raising her head, decreasing the distance between
their lips.