surprised to hear her speak up.
“Not necessarily,” Cheryl said. “Just because you were born Catholic doesn’t make you a Christian, you know.”
“Oh, stop being stupid, Cheryl. There are Catholics at Bayside Christian Academy, and you know it. We’re not supposed to interrogate guests about their religious convictions. It’s not polite,” Rachel said, her voice sharpening.
Cheryl flushed, and Paul said, “Really, it’s all right. I’m not offended. I had several Protestant friends growing up and they were always asking me questions like that about my faith. I’m used to it.”
He looked at Melanie. “So what do you do around here for fun?” he asked. “Go swimming?”
She shrugged. “We don’t get much chance during the day,”
Two of the younger girls suddenly started smiling.
“We keep ourselves busy,” one of the blond twins said airily, giving what was intended to be a sly wink to the others, some of whom tittered.
“Mostly after hours,” one of the younger ones said with a laugh, and was shushed by an older one.
“We sew,” Miriam said dryly, casting a hard look at the younger ones.
Melanie said, “We do things with our church group. But lately we’ve just been at home.”
Bored and up to something “after hours”—at night? Paul thought to himself. But he doubted that any of them were going to confide in a stranger like him.
“Do you really know how to juggle?” the youngest dark-haired girl, asked. For answer, Paul grabbed a handful of cooking utensils from the sink and began tossing them in the air. A spatula, ladle, serving spoon and wooden spoon were worked into a fountain. He juggled them for a few passes and then stopped, letting them splash back down one by one into the soapy water. He stared at the water.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said.
There were muffled giggles, and a little blond girl breathed, “That was so cool.”
Juggling is a great icebreaker, he thought.
four
Rachel, seeing that Paul was washing pots and keeping the girls younger girls entertained enough to actually finish their jobs, decided she was going to slough off her own chores. She shrugged off her denim apron which she had put over her summer dress. Conveniently, the phone rang just then, and she said, “I’ve got it,” scooped up the handset, and stepped outside. “Hello?”
“Hi Rachel! Uh, is this Rachel?” It was Keith Kramer, from her class at school. Her antennae pricked up. Keith was a friend, but he never called the Durhams. It was odd.
“You know it is, Keith,” she said. “What’s up?” She was sure she had heard someone pick up the phone on the other end.
“I, uh, wanted to give Colonel Durham a message about the Bible outreach.”
“Okay, I’ll go get him.” But Rachel stood still. If her dad had picked up, he could just intervene, right now.
“That’s okay. Just tell him my dad and I won’t be able to make the meeting on Wednesday. Uh—how have things been, Rachel?”
“Okay,” she said, wondering if her dad was listening on the line or not. Was he testing her or something? Trying to see if she was going to obey him or not?
“Having a good summer?”
“Yeah, it’s been quiet around here since graduation,” Rachel said. If her dad was listening, it had to be clear to him that it was Keith Kramer, not her, who was initiating the conversation.
“So—what have you been up to?”
Aha, maybe that was it. Dad didn’t need to listen in on the conversation. Dad was hoping that Keith would be a spy for him. Just like Dad was hoping that Paul would be a spy.
Flushed with anger, Rachel suddenly felt reckless. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said softly.
“What was that?”
“Oh, come on Keith,” Rachel said in a soft voice, staring at the golden row of windows on the house. “Wouldn’t you like to know what I’ve been up to?”
There was a silence that seemed too long and Rachel wondered again, her heart racing, if her
“Not necessarily,” Cheryl said. “Just because you were born Catholic doesn’t make you a Christian, you know.”
“Oh, stop being stupid, Cheryl. There are Catholics at Bayside Christian Academy, and you know it. We’re not supposed to interrogate guests about their religious convictions. It’s not polite,” Rachel said, her voice sharpening.
Cheryl flushed, and Paul said, “Really, it’s all right. I’m not offended. I had several Protestant friends growing up and they were always asking me questions like that about my faith. I’m used to it.”
He looked at Melanie. “So what do you do around here for fun?” he asked. “Go swimming?”
She shrugged. “We don’t get much chance during the day,”
Two of the younger girls suddenly started smiling.
“We keep ourselves busy,” one of the blond twins said airily, giving what was intended to be a sly wink to the others, some of whom tittered.
“Mostly after hours,” one of the younger ones said with a laugh, and was shushed by an older one.
“We sew,” Miriam said dryly, casting a hard look at the younger ones.
Melanie said, “We do things with our church group. But lately we’ve just been at home.”
Bored and up to something “after hours”—at night? Paul thought to himself. But he doubted that any of them were going to confide in a stranger like him.
“Do you really know how to juggle?” the youngest dark-haired girl, asked. For answer, Paul grabbed a handful of cooking utensils from the sink and began tossing them in the air. A spatula, ladle, serving spoon and wooden spoon were worked into a fountain. He juggled them for a few passes and then stopped, letting them splash back down one by one into the soapy water. He stared at the water.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said.
There were muffled giggles, and a little blond girl breathed, “That was so cool.”
Juggling is a great icebreaker, he thought.
four
Rachel, seeing that Paul was washing pots and keeping the girls younger girls entertained enough to actually finish their jobs, decided she was going to slough off her own chores. She shrugged off her denim apron which she had put over her summer dress. Conveniently, the phone rang just then, and she said, “I’ve got it,” scooped up the handset, and stepped outside. “Hello?”
“Hi Rachel! Uh, is this Rachel?” It was Keith Kramer, from her class at school. Her antennae pricked up. Keith was a friend, but he never called the Durhams. It was odd.
“You know it is, Keith,” she said. “What’s up?” She was sure she had heard someone pick up the phone on the other end.
“I, uh, wanted to give Colonel Durham a message about the Bible outreach.”
“Okay, I’ll go get him.” But Rachel stood still. If her dad had picked up, he could just intervene, right now.
“That’s okay. Just tell him my dad and I won’t be able to make the meeting on Wednesday. Uh—how have things been, Rachel?”
“Okay,” she said, wondering if her dad was listening on the line or not. Was he testing her or something? Trying to see if she was going to obey him or not?
“Having a good summer?”
“Yeah, it’s been quiet around here since graduation,” Rachel said. If her dad was listening, it had to be clear to him that it was Keith Kramer, not her, who was initiating the conversation.
“So—what have you been up to?”
Aha, maybe that was it. Dad didn’t need to listen in on the conversation. Dad was hoping that Keith would be a spy for him. Just like Dad was hoping that Paul would be a spy.
Flushed with anger, Rachel suddenly felt reckless. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said softly.
“What was that?”
“Oh, come on Keith,” Rachel said in a soft voice, staring at the golden row of windows on the house. “Wouldn’t you like to know what I’ve been up to?”
There was a silence that seemed too long and Rachel wondered again, her heart racing, if her
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