Faithfully Yours Page 13

  “I know,” she groaned, tilting her head back and feeling his hand rub her scalp. “Don’t remind me. It was awful.”

  He laughed. “Yes, it was. Part of the reason it was so awful is because you were doing it in a different key. I transposed it into five flats. It’s easier and the kids can hold pitch better.” He chuckled at her groan of dismay. “And the other problem was that you had the wrong boy singing the solo.”

  “No wonder he didn’t know the words,” she exclaimed, glaring at him. “You might have said something.” The words died as he leaned closer and brought his lips to within inches of hers.

  “I thought I just did,” Jeremy murmured before moving closer.

  Gillian wanted that kiss; had waited days for it. And nothing and no one was going to stop her from enjoying it. Long moments later she laid her head on his shoulder and murmured, “This is nice. I could just go to sleep.”

  “I don’t know why not,” Jeremy murmured, brushing a gentle hand across her hair as he stood to his feet. “As long as you’ve got the snacks ready for tonight, your time is your own.”

  Gillian narrowed her eyes and peered up at him.

  “What snacks?” she asked warily, rising from the sofa as a tiny feather of dismay wafted through her mind. “What’s going on tonight?”

  “Snowmobiling. Have you forgotten?” He tugged her by the arm over to the coat stand. “Go home and rest. You’ll need it.”

  Gillian felt all the old anger begin to rise anew. “But why is it my responsibility to arrange the food?” she demanded. “You are supposed to be part of this ‘team.’ It wouldn’t hurt you to help out once in a while.” She saw the tightening around his mouth, felt the sizzle of electricity in the room as his eyes darkened and his brow furrowed.

  “Just a blasted minute here,” he muttered. “You distinctly told me that our hosts would provide the hot chocolate. I’m sure you said that you would look after the snacks. In fact, I could almost swear to it.”

  Gillian bristled. “There is no swearing on school property,” she told him self-righteously. “And don’t go all grim and nasty just because you imagined something that never happened. I got the snacks last time, you get them this time.” She snatched up her coat and thrust her arms into it angrily.

  “I can’t. I’ve got a parent coming in this afternoon,” he told her, glancing at his watch. “In about five minutes, actually. I’ll barely make it to the church on time as it is.”

  “Well, my time is important, too,” she told him, frowning.

  “I know that,” he sighed with long-suffering forbearance, irritating Gillian to no end. “But just this once could you help me out and pick up something for them? Donuts, chips and dip—they’ll inhale anything.”

  “For your information,” she flung, knowing it was sheer tiredness that was making her so cranky, but feeling justified anyway, “I have helped you out. On numerous occasions. With no thanks for my efforts. It’s about time you did some of the work you’re so eager to dish out. The rest of us are tired of being your peons.” She snatched her coat up and angrily marched out the door without a backward glance.

  But halfway down the hall Gillian remembered that he expected her to supply the food. “And pick up the donuts or whatever yourself,” she called grumpily. “I’m going home to soak in the tub.”

  Let his high-and-mighty bossiness fill those bottomless pits called children for once, she told her nagging, reprimanding conscience. It surely is about time he took on some of that job.

  Still, as she lay in Hope’s big tub with the soft subtle fragrance of rose-scented bath oil drifting around her, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of food Jeremy would bring.

  “As long as it isn’t egg salad sandwiches,” she muttered, frowning as she dipped her head under the water.

  There was a surplus of youth and a shortage of cars that evening, and it wasn’t easy to find a ride to the farm. Even now Gillian was sure the good reverend wondered why Jeremy wasn’t driving his fiancée to the event.

  “He’s probably going to be late,” she told Pastor Dave. “Tonight Jeremy is supplying the food.”

  “Oh, boy,” a teenager groaned from the back seat. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Gillian. He doesn’t like normal junk food, you know. He always says there’s too much fat in chips and too much sugar in pop.”

  “Yeah,” Marissa’s voice chimed in. She giggled. “I never noticed that he applied the same theory to pie, though. Mrs. Rempel told my mom that whenever she makes pies, Jeremy pigs out. I watched him at the church supper at Thanksgiving and it’s true! He had three pieces.”

  Gillian smiled, recalling the night in question with mirth. Jeremy had been scandalized that there was only one kind of salad available. And he’d rudely labeled the gravy as “arteryclogging fat.” But when he’d passed the pie table, his eyes had glistened with avaricious glee.

  The kids from town sat twittering in the back, whispers whizzing back and forth between them. Gillian grinned, knowing all that exuberance would soon be outside in the fresh air. They were a good bunch of kids; full of mischief, but caring.

  Jeremy was already there when Pastor Dave’s car rolled down the lane into the farmyard. He stood in the middle of the path, talking to several of the men who had brought snowmobiles for the kids to use. As everyone tumbled out of the car, Gillian took her time, studying the situation as she strove to think of something to overcome the angry words of earlier.

  When she looked up, however, Jeremy’s eyes met hers. To her surprise they were glowing with excitement. He grinned and motioned her over.

  “Mr. Reid has made a trail for us. It follows through the woods, goes through a couple of fields and ends up back here. And there are more than enough snowmobiles for everyone to share.” He rubbed his hands with glee. “It’s all worked out very well.”

  As if he had some part in that, Gillian grumbled to herself as she nodded and shook hands with the men who had so graciously loaned their machines.

  “Thank you very much. We really appreciate this. And the kids will be very careful with them, won’t you?” Gillian glanced around at the group of grinning faces, glistening with good health, and listened as they called their thanks to the men.

  Mr. Reid, Pastor Dave and the other men organized everyone on a machine, some in pairs, some singly. One by one, they were shown the controls, told the dangers and warned to stay on the track. It was only as they came to the last one that Gillian noticed she and Jeremy had been paired. Apparently this was not to his liking for his face had grown pale.

  “I think I remember most of it,” she told a smiling Mr. Reid. “It’s been a long time, but some things you don’t forget easily.”

  Gillian snapped on her helmet and turned, only to find Jeremy’s huge eyes staring at the black leather seat with something remarkably like fear. She held out his helmet, and when he didn’t immediately take it, slid it on his head herself. “I’ll drive first since I’ve been on one of these before. You just hang on to me.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted. In fact, the less contact she could have with this disturbing man, the better. But the rest of the group was sitting, waiting. It was obvious they didn’t sense Jeremy’s fear, and something, some regret for the way she’d spoken this afternoon, made Gillian want to keep it that way.

  “You lead, Tim,” she called out to the oldest Reid boy. “You already know the way. The rest of us will follow, but not too closely. Jeremy and I’ll follow behind everyone else to make sure no one is left stranded. Okay?”

  They all nodded their agreement.

  “No stopping on the trail, Gillian,” someone called out teasingly. The other kids chimed in, making their catcalls loud and embarrassing.

  Gillian slid down her visor and pulled up her gloves, hoping that no one would notice the red stain she felt flooding her cheeks. A stop on the way was the farthest thing from her mind right now. When she waved her hand, Tim started off down the track, the others following at a
n evenly spaced distance.

  “Climb on,” she told Jeremy quietly. “We’d better get going.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if I stayed here. Just in case someone is needed…”

  Gillian flipped up her visor and glared up at him, hoping anger would do the trick. “Are you crazy?” she demanded inelegantly. “I’m not taking that bunch into the bush on my own. If anybody stays, it’s me. Now either you get on, or you go by yourself.”

  He did, but it took several moments for him to adjust himself to the feel and slope of the seat, and by that time the rest of the group had long since moved out of sight. Gillian took her place in front of him and gunned the engine twice before taking off. He slammed into her from behind as they flopped over a mound of snow, and seconds later she felt his hands around her waist.

  The evening was a lovely, clear, crisp one with thousands of stars twinkling brightly overhead. Gillian breathed in the fresh air with relish, bounding along in the cold, but snug in her warm ski suit. Jeremy had righted himself somewhat. However, his hands still clung to her tightly, sending tingles of awareness all through her body. She had to expend considerable effort to concentrate properly on her driving.

  You haven’t thought about Michael for days.

  The thought came from out of the vast blue-black of the sky above, and it sent Gillian reeling. She had come to this small town to grieve and to dwell on her loss and the past; to live a future full of regret. And yet, a few short months later she felt more alive than she had in a long time. Why, even tonight the wind seemed sharper, the air fresher, the pain less bitter.

  How is this possible, Lord? she questioned. Didn’t I really love Michael, after all? Was it only infatuation, to be forgotten so quickly?

  She thought of the strange new feelings that rose up within her whenever the man behind her came near. Somehow her day brightened perceptibly with his presence. It didn’t matter that they didn’t always agree. And she had long since forgiven him for the slights she had first felt. But what about now? What about when Jeremy touched her, kissed her, as he’d done earlier today. Was that love?

  Gillian was jolted out of her reverie by the tapping on her shoulder. She slowed down and glanced behind, tilting up her visor as she did. “What’s the matter?” she asked curiously. “Are you too cold?”

  He shook his head.

  “You don’t like it, do you?”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just that, uh, I was wondering if, that is—” He stopped for a moment and then it all came tumbling out in a rush. “Do you think I could learn to drive this thing?”

  Relief swept over her. He wasn’t going to be a party pooper, after all. “Of course.” Gillian pushed herself upward and swung one leg over to step into the snow. Immediately she sank in the white, fluffy snow to well above her knees. “Whoops.” She giggled, grabbing his outstretched hand. “I forgot about this part.”

  Jeremy slid up into the driver’s place and with his help, Gillian finally clambered back up onto the running board, huffing and puffing at the exertion made more difficult by the thick layers of clothing. Quickly she explained the controls and then urged him to try them out.

  “We’re losing sight of the others,” she murmured, watching the last machine round the bend. “If we’re not behind them, they’ll tease us endlessly.”

  Jeremy grinned, snapping his helmet back into position and gunning the engine. “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted.

  Seconds later Gillian felt her head jerk backward as he hit the accelerator a little too fast. They whizzed down the trail and around the bend and came upon Reva and Ned Brown.

  “You’re too close,” Gillian yelled, but evidently Jeremy had already figured that out as he jerked abruptly off the trail, over a small mogul and smacked down on the other side with a thud that sent them both through the air to land on the ground behind the now-quietly purring snowmobile.

  Gillian lay there staring at the stars, wondering if they were in the sky or her head. She felt winded and dazed as she tried to remember why she had ever suggested this. There were voices now; lots of them. Someone tugged off her helmet, and she could make out a number of children from the youth group gathered around.

  “Are you okay? Anything broken?” Hands whipped up and down her legs and arms, checking briskly for injuries.

  “Jeremy,” she gasped, sucking oxygen into her starved lungs.

  “Is fine. How about you?” He was sitting beside her, grinning as if he had just completed the Grand Prix for snowmobiles.

  “Okay, I think. Oooooh!” She rubbed a spot on her left hip gently, feeling the tenderness with each movement she made. “I’m going to have a bruise there, though.”

  “What happened, anyway?” Reva asked, staring down at Jeremy. “Didn’t you hear Gillian tell us not to go too fast? You were really moving.”

  Gillian looked at Jeremy and noticed that he’d removed his helmet. His dark hair stood out wildly around his pale face and there was the beginnings of a bruise on his temple. But he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “I just never expected it to respond so easily,” he murmured. “It was great. I can hardly wait to try again.”

  Gillian groaned as she got to her feet with his help.

  “I can,” she muttered. “I can wait quite a while.”

  “Before you go roaring off again, I think you’d better check your machine, Jeremy,” one of the older boys snickered. “You might have to dig it out of that snowbank you hit first.”

  Jeremy whirled around in dismay, glancing first right, then left, looking for damage. The entire group burst out laughing when his relieved gaze finally landed on the softly purring red machine sitting quietly by the trail.

  “You guys,” he said. “You had me worried there for a moment. I thought I’d really done some damage.”

  “Only to me,” Gillian grumbled, moving to take her place on the back of the snowmobile. “Come on, guys, let’s move. This is when I could really use some hot chocolate.”

  One or two of the girls teased her about her aging status, but within a few minutes they were back on the trail, moving at a sedate pace.

  “No more bronco riding,” she warned Jeremy. “If you intend on doing that again, you do it alone.”

  He grinned at her, holding up his right hand. “I promise.”

  They wound through the forest, filling the silence with the roar of engines. Jeremy flicked the lights off for a moment. It was very dark, eerie, but for the shafts of bright moonlight that lit up a glade here and there. Every so often Gillian felt the tingle of fresh snow on her neck as an evergreen bough sifted down some of the light powdery covering that balanced on its branches.

  And then they were out of the woods and into the open meadow covered by a blanket of snow. Mile after mile they crossed, sometimes weaving away from the path, but always returning to it again. Up ahead, some of the group was stopped, and Jeremy slowed to find out the problem.

  Twelve teenagers lay flat on their backs in the snow, waving arms and legs rhythmically.

  “Come on,” Tim and Reva called. “It’s great.”

  Jeremy studied them curiously before glancing back at Gillian.

  “What, exactly, are they doing? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  “They’re making snow angels, of course. I can’t believe you haven’t done that before.” When he shook his head, she sighed and pointed. “Watch the snow when they get up.”

  They sat silent as Tim pulled Reva out of the snow And sure enough, there in the smooth, puffy whiteness was indeed the outline of an angel. Quick as a wink, Gillian turned and shoved as hard as she could, tumbling Jeremy into the snow.

  “Hey,” he protested, but it was too late. Gillian had already flopped down beside him and was tugging on his arm.

  “Like this,” she instructed.

  They had almost finished when a pelter of snowballs caught them square in the face. Scrambling to their feet, they completely destroyed the imprint as they balled-up some snow an
d fired at the group now surrounding them.

  “You’re outnumbered,” someone shouted as a huge ball of soft snow hit Gillian smack on the mouth. “Give in!”

  “Never,” she shouted back, chucking snowballs even faster. It was only seconds later that she noticed Jeremy was no longer there. Turning, she saw him sprawled in the snow while several boys laughingly washed his face.

  “Hey,” she yelled, tossing several missiles at them. It was a mistake. Within moments her attackers had doubled their effort and she could only flounder through the deep snow toward her machine when they gave pursuit.

  “Your turn,” the girls chorused, mock-threateningly. It was only through the cleverest bargaining, fierce warnings and promising things she could never deliver that Gillian escaped the same fate.

  At last, tired and laughing, the entire group mounted their snowmobiles and headed off for the Reids’ home. When they trooped into the house, Gillian’s nose twitched at the delicious odors emanating from the kitchen. What in the world had Jeremy come up with for supper? she wondered.

  “Pizza,” several boys hollered, smacking their lips in delight. “All right!” They high-fived one another in eager anticipation. Even the girls were casting mouth-watering glances toward the kitchen.

  “Why, you’re just in time,” Mrs. Reid said, smiling. “Mrs. Rempel and Mr. Johnson just now dropped off these things. They’re still hot.”

  As the kids jostled one another for a slice of pizza and a cup of hot chocolate, Gillian nudged Jeremy in the ribs.

  “That’s cheating and you know it,” she teased. “You were supposed to bring something you made for this group of ravenous wolves. I’m going to have to speak to Faith about this.”

  He grinned, tweaking her nose.

  “Don’t you dare,” he whispered. “You already know how much I cook and how well. Besides—” he watched the pizza disappear with worried eyes “—I’m starved.”

  “Hey, Jeremy,” one of the teens called out. “You’re not eating any, are you?”

  Jeremy stared at the girl, his forehead furrowed. “Why not?” he demanded.