she hadn’t needed to ask.
I could go with Judith and Cal, she found herself thinking as they left the church and proceeded across the parking lot. But she knew they always had a full van, what with their own brood and picking up neighborhood children for the Sunday service.
P.C. opened the car door and she settled herself on the smooth dark leather of the seat. The car even smelled clean. Cynthia thought of her own vehicle. It had been years since it had looked polished. Not since Roger … She really needed to give it a good cleaning. In fact, she really was in need of a newer car. If it wasn’t for her father …
“Good sermon,” he began as he backed from the parking spot.
Cynthia nodded.
“Mother really enjoys the services here.”
“That’s nice,” mumbled Cynthia.
He smiled. He really had a pleasant smile when he chose to use it.
“But then, that’s not all she enjoys.” Her eyes widened as she tried to figure out if there was some kind of hidden message in the words.
“I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to talk with you—alone—for some time,” he went on and Cynthia blinked.
He grinned. “There sure isn’t any opportunity when we are in our little crowd.”
No, there was not. She wondered if they had said more than a dozen words to each other over the past months. But the fact had not concerned her. Not in the least.
“I’ve been wondering… if you … well, if you feel like I do?”
Cynthia squirmed on the leather seat and held her breath. What in the world did the man mean?
“What do you think? Maybe I shouldn’t even say it—or think it—but does it seem to you that Mother and your father might be just a little … attracted to each other?”
Cynthia let the air release in a little gasp and turned to look fully at him. She could feel the flush of her cheeks. But since he was asking an honest question—with seriousness—she felt obligated to answer. She swallowed hard and nodded slightly.
“I … I certainly believe that Daddy thinks your mother is a … a delightful woman,” she managed to say.
“Would it upset you if anything were to come of it?”
“Oh no,” said Cynthia quickly. “I quite like your mother.”
He smiled.
“Would it … would it … upset you?” she asked in turn.
“Me?” His smile broadened. “On the contrary. It would ease my mind considerably.”
Why? she wondered inwardly as she faced forward again. Didn’t this man realize how blessed he was to have such a wonderful mother?
“It’s been great for me—having Mother here,” he explained, as if Cynthia had spoken her thoughts. “But I don’t think living with me is the life she needs. She needs … more. She is a beautiful, intelligent, talented woman. She needs to learn to be able to give of herself again. Frankly, living with me is not enough to fill her days. She needs … people … activities … a place of service. She isn’t likely to find that if she stays on with me.”
Cynthia turned questioning eyes on him. “You don’t think so?”
“I’m sure of it. She spends all her time fussing. Over little things. Things that don’t really matter. She needs more than small, cramped quarters and one bachelor son. A challenge. A bigger world.”
“But… she’s going to sell her house.”
“I know. That concerns me. Oh … not that she’s going to sell her house. That’s the right move, I think. But then what? Cooped up in my apartment all day? I don’t think that would be good for her.”
“I … I’m afraid I don’t follow—” Cynthia began.
“I thought we might—sort of—join forces.”
Cynthia frowned. Where was this conversation going?
“They do seem to enjoy each other. I have a great deal of respect for your father. He’s the kind of man—well, frankly, I wouldn’t mind Mother becoming … involved.”
“But—”
“Of course, they must make up their own mind. I don’t want to force anything. But still, if
I could go with Judith and Cal, she found herself thinking as they left the church and proceeded across the parking lot. But she knew they always had a full van, what with their own brood and picking up neighborhood children for the Sunday service.
P.C. opened the car door and she settled herself on the smooth dark leather of the seat. The car even smelled clean. Cynthia thought of her own vehicle. It had been years since it had looked polished. Not since Roger … She really needed to give it a good cleaning. In fact, she really was in need of a newer car. If it wasn’t for her father …
“Good sermon,” he began as he backed from the parking spot.
Cynthia nodded.
“Mother really enjoys the services here.”
“That’s nice,” mumbled Cynthia.
He smiled. He really had a pleasant smile when he chose to use it.
“But then, that’s not all she enjoys.” Her eyes widened as she tried to figure out if there was some kind of hidden message in the words.
“I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to talk with you—alone—for some time,” he went on and Cynthia blinked.
He grinned. “There sure isn’t any opportunity when we are in our little crowd.”
No, there was not. She wondered if they had said more than a dozen words to each other over the past months. But the fact had not concerned her. Not in the least.
“I’ve been wondering… if you … well, if you feel like I do?”
Cynthia squirmed on the leather seat and held her breath. What in the world did the man mean?
“What do you think? Maybe I shouldn’t even say it—or think it—but does it seem to you that Mother and your father might be just a little … attracted to each other?”
Cynthia let the air release in a little gasp and turned to look fully at him. She could feel the flush of her cheeks. But since he was asking an honest question—with seriousness—she felt obligated to answer. She swallowed hard and nodded slightly.
“I … I certainly believe that Daddy thinks your mother is a … a delightful woman,” she managed to say.
“Would it upset you if anything were to come of it?”
“Oh no,” said Cynthia quickly. “I quite like your mother.”
He smiled.
“Would it … would it … upset you?” she asked in turn.
“Me?” His smile broadened. “On the contrary. It would ease my mind considerably.”
Why? she wondered inwardly as she faced forward again. Didn’t this man realize how blessed he was to have such a wonderful mother?
“It’s been great for me—having Mother here,” he explained, as if Cynthia had spoken her thoughts. “But I don’t think living with me is the life she needs. She needs … more. She is a beautiful, intelligent, talented woman. She needs to learn to be able to give of herself again. Frankly, living with me is not enough to fill her days. She needs … people … activities … a place of service. She isn’t likely to find that if she stays on with me.”
Cynthia turned questioning eyes on him. “You don’t think so?”
“I’m sure of it. She spends all her time fussing. Over little things. Things that don’t really matter. She needs more than small, cramped quarters and one bachelor son. A challenge. A bigger world.”
“But… she’s going to sell her house.”
“I know. That concerns me. Oh … not that she’s going to sell her house. That’s the right move, I think. But then what? Cooped up in my apartment all day? I don’t think that would be good for her.”
“I … I’m afraid I don’t follow—” Cynthia began.
“I thought we might—sort of—join forces.”
Cynthia frowned. Where was this conversation going?
“They do seem to enjoy each other. I have a great deal of respect for your father. He’s the kind of man—well, frankly, I wouldn’t mind Mother becoming … involved.”
“But—”
“Of course, they must make up their own mind. I don’t want to force anything. But still, if
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