dad was listening on the phone after all. If he was, she had just given herself away. On a sudden impulse, she walked swiftly around the house.
“Uh,” Keith said with an effort. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking.”
Rachel didn’t answer because she was hurrying, as fast as she could without breathing hard, around the house to the place where her dad’s study was. Slowing to a halt, she peered in the window.
Her dad was typing on the computer. The phone was in its receiver—but maybe he had it on speakerphone?
I’m being way too paranoid, she chided herself. She had an idea. “Well, then,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe you should talk to Taylor.”
“Taylor from our class?”
“Yeah, maybe you should talk to him,” she said. She had talked to Taylor at church last week. She had figured out that even though Taylor was in her dad’s study group too, he wasn’t going to be a spy.
“Okay, I’ll do that,” Keith said. “Uh, make sure you give your dad that message.”
“Sure I will,” she said, and hung up the phone.
She wandered up the path that ran between the vegetable gardens, feeling the breeze tugging her hair out of the bun, and planning. Glancing up, she saw Paul through the kitchen window and wondered idly if he were watching her. He probably thought she looked like some kind of old-fashioned heroine in her too-long skirt and blouse. He would be mistaken , she thought. I’m trapped in this quaint Christian life by day, but now I have an escape.
And that thought alone was invigorating.
After Paul had finished the dishes and helped the girls with the kitchen, the evening had darkened. Colonel Durham returned and offered to drive Paul back to his campsite.
Paul had a feeling that the man wanted to talk with him alone, so he said yes. After saying goodnight to the girls and Mrs. Durham, Paul got into the passenger side of the colonel’s large town car. It was a comfortable car, but not ostentatious. The Durhams, he was starting to see, were well-off, but didn’t live extravagantly. It was interesting to see Christian parents who took the challenge to live simply seriously. He admired that principle, although he could see the teenagers were chafing under it.
“Thanks very much for having me over,” Paul said.
“We enjoyed having you as well,” Mr. Durham said.
As they drove, Colonel Durham was quiet for a moment then said abruptly, “So, now you’ve met my daughters. You see the problem?”
Paul searched for words. “They’re all very beautiful young ladies,” he said slowly.
The Colonel gave a wry smile. “Yes, they are. I wonder if that’s half the trouble. I wish God had given me godly daughters, but instead He gave me beautiful daughters. And that makes my job twice as hard. I don’t know what it is about females and beauty, but if a girl’s beautiful, she seems to think that she has a right to focus on that. But I guess that’s human nature.”
“Does there have to be a conflict between being beautiful and being good?” Paul couldn’t help saying.
The colonel frowned. “I don’t know if there has to, but in my experience, there often is ,” he said.
Fingering the medal around his neck and silently asking for guidance, Paul tried to think of where to start. “I was wondering…just thinking about how my own dad related to my sisters…Have you had much time to spend with them? How much do you see them during the week?”
“I’m working from home three days a week and Sallie’s almost always home. They’re practically never out of our sight. That’s what’s so puzzling to me. I don’t see what they could be hiding. They couldn’t be doing anything at nighttime: they’d have to walk right past our bedroom to get downstairs, and we always keep our door open. Yet I’m sure there’s something going on. I just can’t figure out what it is or when it’s happening.”
“Have you looked into getting any help?” Paul asked.
The man harrumphed.
“Uh,” Keith said with an effort. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking.”
Rachel didn’t answer because she was hurrying, as fast as she could without breathing hard, around the house to the place where her dad’s study was. Slowing to a halt, she peered in the window.
Her dad was typing on the computer. The phone was in its receiver—but maybe he had it on speakerphone?
I’m being way too paranoid, she chided herself. She had an idea. “Well, then,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe you should talk to Taylor.”
“Taylor from our class?”
“Yeah, maybe you should talk to him,” she said. She had talked to Taylor at church last week. She had figured out that even though Taylor was in her dad’s study group too, he wasn’t going to be a spy.
“Okay, I’ll do that,” Keith said. “Uh, make sure you give your dad that message.”
“Sure I will,” she said, and hung up the phone.
She wandered up the path that ran between the vegetable gardens, feeling the breeze tugging her hair out of the bun, and planning. Glancing up, she saw Paul through the kitchen window and wondered idly if he were watching her. He probably thought she looked like some kind of old-fashioned heroine in her too-long skirt and blouse. He would be mistaken , she thought. I’m trapped in this quaint Christian life by day, but now I have an escape.
And that thought alone was invigorating.
After Paul had finished the dishes and helped the girls with the kitchen, the evening had darkened. Colonel Durham returned and offered to drive Paul back to his campsite.
Paul had a feeling that the man wanted to talk with him alone, so he said yes. After saying goodnight to the girls and Mrs. Durham, Paul got into the passenger side of the colonel’s large town car. It was a comfortable car, but not ostentatious. The Durhams, he was starting to see, were well-off, but didn’t live extravagantly. It was interesting to see Christian parents who took the challenge to live simply seriously. He admired that principle, although he could see the teenagers were chafing under it.
“Thanks very much for having me over,” Paul said.
“We enjoyed having you as well,” Mr. Durham said.
As they drove, Colonel Durham was quiet for a moment then said abruptly, “So, now you’ve met my daughters. You see the problem?”
Paul searched for words. “They’re all very beautiful young ladies,” he said slowly.
The Colonel gave a wry smile. “Yes, they are. I wonder if that’s half the trouble. I wish God had given me godly daughters, but instead He gave me beautiful daughters. And that makes my job twice as hard. I don’t know what it is about females and beauty, but if a girl’s beautiful, she seems to think that she has a right to focus on that. But I guess that’s human nature.”
“Does there have to be a conflict between being beautiful and being good?” Paul couldn’t help saying.
The colonel frowned. “I don’t know if there has to, but in my experience, there often is ,” he said.
Fingering the medal around his neck and silently asking for guidance, Paul tried to think of where to start. “I was wondering…just thinking about how my own dad related to my sisters…Have you had much time to spend with them? How much do you see them during the week?”
“I’m working from home three days a week and Sallie’s almost always home. They’re practically never out of our sight. That’s what’s so puzzling to me. I don’t see what they could be hiding. They couldn’t be doing anything at nighttime: they’d have to walk right past our bedroom to get downstairs, and we always keep our door open. Yet I’m sure there’s something going on. I just can’t figure out what it is or when it’s happening.”
“Have you looked into getting any help?” Paul asked.
The man harrumphed.
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