Chapter Eight #2
“Aren’t you feeling well?” Concern knitted her brow; Billy so seldom complained. This subdued behavior was very unlike the
gregarious youth Skye had come to love and admire. “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter?” Gently she began to stroke
his head, as if to ease his discomfort.
Indecision moved over his young face. “I . . . I overheard my mom and Dr. Warren talking,” he began shakily, close to tears.
“They didn’t know I could hear them. They thought I was asleep. Dr. Warren told Mom there may be a chance I could walk again,
but I’ll need this new kind of operation.” A solitary tear escaped and slid from the corner of his eye onto the white pillowcase.
Embarrassed, Billy fiercely wiped his eyes. “My mom needs me to take care of her. Ever since Dad left, she’s been so unhappy.
She used to cry all the time—she still cries—but she tries not to let me know. I don’t want to walk just for me. I need to
walk for Mom. I’ll be able to look after her then, instead of her looking after me.”
Billy’s unselfish concern for his mother brought tears shimmering to Skye’s eyes. “Then we must pray very hard, Billy. But
most of all, we must believe Jesus loves you and your mother and He knows what’s best for both of you. We must trust Him to
do what’s right.”
“Will you pray with me?” he whispered, almost as if he were afraid prayers were a sign of weakness instead of strength.
“Of course I will, every night, if you want,” she promised.
The troubled face relaxed.
“If you’re able to have the surgery, would you like me to stay with your mother? We could wait and pray together for you.”
Billy’s sense of duty was so strong toward his mother, Skye knew this would help him.
A smile brightened his face. “Would you?”
“Sure thing, Sprout,” she promised.
Later that evening, after Skye had sung and entertained the children, Sally joined her in the nurses’ lounge for a cup of coffee.
“Dr. Warren has begun some of the testing on Billy,” Sally announced.
“And?” Skye couldn’t disguise the concern that heavily laced her voice.
“Thus far, it looks favorable, but everything rests on Dr. Snell’s opinion,” Sally explained with tight-lipped anxiety. Elaborating
on the details the operation would entail, Sally was interrupted by a volunteer.
“Skye, there’s a call for you on line one.” Joyce Kimball stuck her head around the door frame. “I had it transferred in here.
You can use the phone on the countertop.”
“Thanks, Joyce.” Setting her cup on the table, Skye moved to the phone. “I wonder who would be phoning me here.”
Sally slouched indolently and batted her eyelashes teasingly. “I bet it’s Jordan Kiley. He’s fallen for you, my dear girl.”
“Hardly.” Skye dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand and turned her back on Sally’s wicked gleam.
“This is Skye Garvin,” she said hesitatingly.
“Hello, blue eyes.”
It was Jordan, and the tender affection in his voice brought a tingling sensation to the ends of her nerves. But before she
could express her surprise, Jordan continued.
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” The question was abrupt, asked in a brisk voice.
“Yes.” She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “I can’t think of anything offhand. Why?”
“Good. I’ll pick you up after school; wait there for me. I haven’t time to explain now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As quickly
as the conversation had begun it was over. Skye turned back to Sally, her expression showing her confusion.
“Jordan?” Sally asked with a know-it-all attitude.
Skye nodded, deep in thought. “He’s coming tomorrow but . . . but he didn’t say why.”
“This sounds serious to me,” Sally teased, twitching her eyebrows.
Still thinking about the brief conversation, Skye didn’t notice the dramatic scene Sally was enacting until she glanced upward
to witness a paper towel draped over Sally’s head as she slowly marched up an imaginary aisle, singing in her loudest voice
the reprise to the wedding march.
“Here comes the bride . . . tall, skinny, and snide . . .” Before she could complete another witticism, Skye threw a pillow
in her direction and burst into laughter.
The afternoon beams of sunlight filtered through the window of Skye’s classroom. Looping a long strand of honey-colored hair
behind her ear, she stood from her position on the floor with the children and stretched. A warm sensation grew within her
at the beauty of the unspoiled day. With the warm weather the children were anxious to be outside and rose eagerly when the
bell rang announcing the close of another day. Within minutes her classroom was empty as the children exploded onto the playground.
When Skye returned to her desk to straighten a few papers, she caught sight of Jordan through her windows, walking across
the school grounds, weaving his way among the children. Unbidden, her senses clamored at the sight of him, and she recognized
anew the depth of her feeling for this virile man. His face looked drawn and tired, as if something were weighing on his mind,
but the look they exchanged when their eyes met was anything but jaded.
He entered her classroom, his smile warm and disturbing. “Why is it none of my teachers was ever this beautiful?” he murmured.
Skye smiled contentedly, standing to greet him.
“On second thought—” His hand cupped her face, and he peered into her eyes. “—I may never have completed school if you’d been
around. It would have been too tempting to flunk.”
Unable to resist the temptation, Skye planted a tiny kiss at the corner of his mouth. More and more, touching him, kissing
him, loving him, was becoming second nature.
“Are you ready?” his controlled voice asked.
“In a minute.” Reluctantly she broke from his arms and withdrew her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. “Do I have time
to freshen up? I’ll only be a few minutes.” Her fingers rose unconsciously to her colorless lips before running through the
tangles of her long curls.
“I don’t see why you need fresh lipstick. I’m going to kiss it off within minutes anyway,” he teased, the corners of his mouth
curved in amusement. “But take all the time you need.”
When she joined him again, she found him leaning against her desk, glancing through her students’ papers and their still-awkward
attempts at letters and numbers. He straightened when she entered, but the drawn look was back in his eyes before he could
mask it from her.
A feather-light kiss brushed her lips. “Mmm, that tasted good.” His head drew back slightly to examine her trembling mouth.
“I’ll have another,” he said, and with a diminutive chuckle, he tenderly folded her into his arms.
“How did you know where I taught?” Skye asked, still descending from the delight of his kiss. The question had troubled her
all day. She was sure she’d never mentioned it.
“You told me at one time or another.” He dismissed her question. “Or perhaps it was Billy.”
She relaxed. Billy knew, of course. Yet she couldn’t help feeling a little apprehensive. Jordan’s call last night had haunted her most of the day, and looking at him now, she could see he was equally troubled.
“Where are we going?” They were halfway across the school yard before she thought to ask.
Placing an arm around her shoulder, he glanced at her questioning eyes. “That depends,” he answered cryptically. “Why don’t
we go to your apartment first? We need to talk. We’ll decide from there.”
Skye glanced again at the uneasiness she’d read in his eyes. He’s going to ask me to marry him, she thought, and he’s nervous. An overwhelming surge of love rose within her. Just as she knew his question, she knew her answer. She loved Jordan, and
she wanted one day when the time was right to have his children. Together they would build a meaningful life. The differences
in their beliefs would work themselves out. He wasn’t a committed believer yet, but Skye had to believe that he was searching
and that one day he would be.
All at once she was as nervous as Jordan and chatted all the way to her apartment. She put water on the stove while Jordan
remained in her living room. She studied his profile anxiously, waiting.
“Skye, let’s talk.”
Instantly she moved into the living room and sat opposite him, her heart pounding wildly. She felt like a young girl nervously
anticipating her first kiss.
“Yes, Jordan.”
In a lazy, withdrawn manner he studied her, the pause lengthening. Skye had seen him use that expression only once before,
and then, unexpectedly, a feeling of dread came over her.
“I was happy to be in church with you last Sunday and listen to your music. It gave me an opportunity to record you without
your knowledge. Dan Murphy listened to the tape and would like to offer you a recording contract.”
In a hurt, confused action, Skye quickly averted her face. Closing her eyes to block the pain, she pressed her lips tightly together. It hurt that Jordan had gone against her wishes in such an underhanded way. She would never have believed him capable of something like this.
“I’m . . . I’m not interested.” She wanted to scream it at him, but instead remained outwardly calm and composed. Suddenly
the living room became claustrophobic, and she jerked herself upright and stood before the bay window.
Jordan followed. “I don’t think you understand what you’re refusing.” His gaze flickered over her as she stood, her back stiff
and erect. “You’ve got it, Skye. Talent. Beauty. Appeal. You’re superstar material, and I’ll back you every way I can.”
Skye looked at him with a sickening kind of disbelief and hugged her stomach, needing the warmth and protection her arms provided.
Hanging her head, a numbness stole over her. And she’d thought he was going to ask her to be his wife. It was almost worth
laughing over.
Jordan reached out to touch her, but she roughly pulled away, her indomitable pride taking over. “Please, don’t touch me,”
she said, anger wobbling her voice. “What’s in it for you, Jordan? Twenty percent?” she asked contemptuously.