At least he’d been able to spend a few hours in her presence. Talking, getting to know each other again. What more could he want?
Yes, Amy would get her explanation. Then she’d never speak to him again.
Foster chose that moment to pounce, disrupting both his thoughts and Rufus’s meal. Rufus quacked once, loudly, as Foster nearly ended up with a mouthful of feathers. Then he jumped forward and snagged a piece of orange fur in his beak. Foster yowled and the chase was on. If he’d told anyone that a cat was running from a duck, they wouldn’t believe him.
The interruption was for the best, he knew. There were more important things to think about. Like his daughter. What kind of parent was he, anyway—thinking about lost romance when his daughter’s shenanigans should be taking precedence? Karen would have been very disappointed in him. But no more disappointed than he was in himself.
****
“Hey Quentin, I heard you had a date Friday night.” Russ cornered him as soon as he and Shayna stepped out of the church pew.
Russ. Good. They needed to talk. Quentin was just about to suggest they get together later in the afternoon when he noticed Mrs. Parsons. A few feet ahead of them, she turned and stared. Her eyes lit with interest at Russ’s comment. Before Quentin could react to anything, Shayna was off like lighting.
“Shayna! We’re leaving soon!”
She never turned around, merely melted into a crowd of teenagers gathered at the back of the sanctuary.
He glanced at Mrs. P., and then turned his back on her—hoping she’d get the hint and continue on her way. The last thing he needed was his nosy neighbor bugging him about his love life—or lack thereof.
“Thanks a lot, Russ,” he grumbled. “Now it’ll be all over church.”
Elbowing him in the ribs, Russ spoke a little too loud. “So, how was it?”
“Keep your voice down.” Quentin looked over his shoulder, concerned about the topic of conversation. Sure enough Mrs. P. was still standing there, eyebrows lifted, her eyes glittering. “It wasn’t a date.”
How had Russ heard about it anyway?
“Heard it was a new teacher...”
Quentin pressed his lips together and inhaled sharply, waiting for Russ to make the connection.
“...someone by the name of Amy Welsh. Hey!”
Quentin exhaled in a huff, and then winced as a glimmer of recognition settled in Russ’s eyes. His friend had made the connection.
“Is she the same Amy Welsh you were so tight with in school?”
“It wasn’t a date,” Quentin repeated through clenched teeth.
“Your old girlfriend, a night at the drive-in. Yeah, right. If it wasn’t a date, then what was it?”
“We were only—” He broke off. What could he say? Admit to spying on his daughter? Then word would get out that Quentin couldn’t control his daughter, that she was trouble. He knew Russ would never say it like that, but word traveled quick in Goose Bay and it always ended up twisted to the worst degree. He’d end up with more than just a ribbing and a practical joke from the guys at work.
“Think what you want,” he groused to his friend. “Just keep your mouth shut.”
“Hey.” Russ held up his hands. “No problem. But I guess this means there’s no hope for you and my sister.”
There never was, but Quentin didn’t say it.
“When are you going to see her again?”
I’m not, Quentin thought. At least not for a date. He did need to talk to her again—just once more. He owed it to her. Ashamed as he was of the reason he never showed up, she deserved the truth. Not that he planned to tell Russ about it.
“I’ve got to go find my daughter.” Before he left, Quentin poked Russ in the chest. “Don’t open your mouth about this.” He jabbed his finger at Russ one more time for emphasis. “To anyone.”
“How did Russ Miller know I was at the drive-in with Amy?”
They were in the truck, still in the church parking lot. Shayna looked away from Quentin, but not quickly enough to hide the guilt that registered on her face.
“Shayna.” He titled his head, squared his jaw and raised an eyebrow.
She was quiet for a moment, and then turned to him with a smile that was clearly meant to push all his buttons. “Can we get pizza for lunch?”
“Don’t change the subject. I want to know how Russ knew.”
“Tell me if we can get the pizza, then I’ll tell you.”
“Fine,” he relented. She’d only manage to wear him down if he didn’t give in. And today he was too tired for her theatrics. “Now how did Russ find out?”
Shayna stirred uncomfortably and turned back to her window.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was pitched unusually high.
“Shayna, what have I taught you about lying? More importantly, what have you learned in church about lying?”
“Daddy!” She sounded outraged.
“Well?” Sometimes kids could be so exasperating.
“Rusty Miller was one of the boys at the drive-in,” she finally said.
“So you decided to tell Rusty I was there on a date?” Quentin considered the implications here. First that Rusty knew he’d been on a date with Amy and most likely told his dad. Second that Russ knew he used to date Amy and half the town, not to mention the church, would soon know he’d been on a date. And more importantly, they’d know his daughter had been to the drive-in with boys. He saw red.
“No pizza.” He shoved the truck into gear and lurched out of the parking space.
“But, Dad—”
“No buts about it. I’m so angry with you right now, I just need to think. And,” he added pointedly as he eased out of the parking lot and onto the narrow road that led back to town, “you’d better keep your mouth quiet while I do.”
“Think about what?” She sounded oh-so-innocent, but Quentin knew she was goading him.
“Think about whether or not I should lock you in your room for the rest of your natural life, that’s what!” As soon as he spoke, Quentin was sorry. He swallowed hard and tried to find the words to apologize to his daughter.
Instead, he slowly guided the truck back into town and toward Alfredo’s Pizza.
They were almost there when Shayna broke the silence. “Can I talk now?”
Quentin looked over at his daughter and smiled. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know, Dad. Just love me, I guess.” She laughed a deep, infectious laugh he never grew tired of hearing. “But if you’re finished being mad, I need to remind you of something.”
“What’s that?”
“You were the one who told me you were on a date. And you never said not to tell anyone.”
She had him there. She was so good at twisting him around her finger. Good thing he only had one daughter to contend with.
“You really like her, huh Dad?” She sounded much too enthusiastic, and Quentin didn’t know what to make of it. Did his daughter want him to date? He’d always heard horror stories about teens that went out of their way to sabotage their parents’ dates.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”
“Yeah, you.” She reached over and gave him a playful punch on the arm.
“Well, it’s my turn to ask a question, OK?”
“Sure, Dad.”
“How did you know Miss Welsh and I used to date in high school?”
“She told you about that, huh?” Shayna’s lips twitched in a half-smile that Quentin found a little odd.
“Yes, she did.”
“Mrs. Morgan.”
“That’s what I thought. What else did she tell you?”
“Just that you really liked each other and that everyone thought you’d end up getting married.”
Struck by a pang of guilt over the past, Quentin was glad Shayna was quiet for a minute. It gave him time to gather his thoughts before she asked the inevitable next question.
“So, how come you didn’t?”
/>
He sighed, not wanting to think about the answer. “Sweetheart, some questions are better left unasked. This is one of them.”
“So you’re not going to answer me, huh?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “And I don’t want you to ask me again.” Was it his imagination, or did Shayna look much too pleased with herself?
****
Amy closed her Bible and ran her hand over the textured cover. The leather was soft and cool to the touch. Comforting. Still, she felt sick at heart.
Ever since she’d moved back to Goose Bay, she’d avoided going to church. Not that she didn’t want to go. It was just so hard to walk into a church that first time and feel comfortable. Not because she didn’t know a lot of people here, but because she just hadn’t worked up the courage—until today.
After Miki’s mention of the potluck the other day, and knowing a friend would be there, Amy finally felt ready to go to church on Sunday morning. She needed the fellowship, the singing, needed to be with other Christians.
She was finally ready to start over.
So she headed to the tiny church on the outskirts of town and pulled into the parking lot in time to see Quentin getting out of his truck with Shayna. Why, out of all the churches in Goose Bay, had she chosen the one he attended? It had never even occurred to her. She’d put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot and headed home.
Now she sat at her kitchen table feeling like a wimp. No, worse. A marshmallow. Unable to walk into a church because Quentin was there.
Now she’d have to wait another week for the opportunity to worship and praise the Lord in the company of fellow Christians. Another week of butterflies and anxiety over walking into a new church—and it wouldn’t be the one where Quentin Macmillan worshipped.
She stood up and began to pace. Whenever she got angry at herself or anyone else for that matter, her tendency was to get moving. Certain a good brisk walk would help her feel better, she rummaged through the closet for her walking shoes and in a matter of minutes was out the door in the fresh air.
The sun was out. A pleasant and far cry from the usual spring afternoon in the Pacific Northwest. Amy walked down the country road with no particular destination in mind. Though she lived outside the city limits in what was termed ‘the country’, she was really only a couple of miles from the center of town. Half an hour later she found herself downtown and by the stream of traffic, she figured church had just ended. She felt the pang in her stomach again and increased her pace.
“Amy!”
She turned at the sound of her name, and her stomach lurched when she saw Shayna just emerging from her dad’s truck. Amy wasn’t used to such blatant disrespect from her students and if they’d been in the classroom, she would have corrected Shayna. But here, in town, on a Sunday afternoon, Amy didn’t feel up to a confrontation. Especially not in front of Quentin.
When Shayna waved, Amy returned it reluctantly and hoped Quentin hadn’t seen her. He seemed preoccupied with his CDs or the CD player. She turned to go, hoping Shayna would get the hint and let Amy continue with her walk.
“Amy, I mean, Miss Welsh! Come here!”
One could hardly ignore a shouting fourteen-year-old. They would just get louder and could outlast most adults. She felt a pang of sympathy for Quentin. It couldn’t be easy, raising a teenager on your own. Dutifully, but not happily, Amy stepped toward the truck.
“Dad says it’s rude to call you by your first name. But I figured since you two know each other, it might be OK.”
Amy didn’t know what to say, so she kept silent.
“We just got out of church, and now we’re getting some pizza. Do you want some?”
Amy shook her head. “I don’t think—”
“Come on, Miss Welsh. Join us.”
She looked up at the sound of Quentin’s voice. She shot him a glare, hoping Shayna couldn’t interpret it. Why was he doing this to her when he clearly knew she didn’t want to see him again? Well, she amended, she did want to see him, but her heart couldn’t bear it.
“No,” she said with regret. “I really can’t.” Feeling worse than she did when she started out on the walk, she turned and started away.
“Amy, please?” His voice was gentle, the tones washed over her, melting her heart.
She slowed her pace, hesitating.
“Pepperoni, lightly-sauced. Your favorite.”
She stopped in her tracks.
If he hadn’t remembered her favorite, she would have kept on walking. How, after all these years, had he managed to remember her favorite pizza and the way she liked it ordered? The same way he’d remembered Dr. Pepper was her favorite drink. Touched, she turned and her gaze collided with his heart-stopping smile. She looked up into his crystal blue eyes and was totally lost. Unable to help herself, she nodded slowly then followed them into the pizza parlor.
The years drifted away as they walked through the old-fashioned swinging doors. It seemed like yesterday that she was here with Quentin and a rowdy band of their friends, playing the pinball machines and records on the jukebox. Of course now the jukebox played CDs and the pinball machines had been replaced by video game systems. But it didn’t matter. The atmosphere was the same; noisy shouts and laughter, the clanging of pizza pans in the kitchen, and the garlicky, yeasty smell of fresh baked pizza.
She smiled, feeling shy though secretly pleased as she stood beside Quentin while he ordered the pizza just the way she liked it. If he noticed the gagging noises his daughter made when the clerk read back the order, he ignored it. Again she felt that pang of sympathy for him.
Following Quentin and Shayna to the soda fountain where they had to fill their own drinks, she glanced around the restaurant.
Alfredo’s. This had been their place. Hers and Quentin’s. It had been here, at a candlelit table in a darkened corner, where Quentin had kissed her for the first time. They’d been eating pizza and garlic bread, laughing shyly. He’d risen from his seat across from her, and come around to sit beside her. She’d just taken another bite of her garlic bread when he’d leaned forward and kissed her. She’d been embarrassed, but not enough that she hadn’t recognized the hint of promised passion behind the sweet and gentle touch of his lips on hers.
“Watch out!” Quentin shouted at the same time she felt sticky soda spilling over her hand. She’d been so carried away with memories, she’d overfilled her glass.
“Clumsy me.” She laughed softly, trying to cover her embarrassment. Quentin was quick to grab some napkins and gently placed them over her hand, trying to wipe up the soda. She smiled her thanks, and picked up her drink.
“So, have you been to church?” Amy asked Shayna as they walked to the table. Of course, it was merely her way of making conversation, since she already knew they’d been, but she had to do something to concentrate on the present.
“Yeah, we go every Sunday. Dad teaches a Bible class in the mornings and sometimes leads the youth group on Sunday nights.” She stopped talking only long enough to take a few slurps of her soda. “Tonight though, it’s Mr. Miller’s turn. He works for my dad.”
“So your dad makes him teach Bible class in order to keep his job?” Amy raised her eyebrows in a teasing manner.
“Oh no,” Shayna said around her straw. “They’re best friends.”
Quentin gave Amy a quirky little smile and rolled his eyes. Embarrassed by his daughter? Or embarrassed for her to know he taught Bible class?
“What age do you teach?” she asked, trying to make him feel more at ease.
“Whatever age there’s a need for. Right now it’s Kindergarten through first grade. And it isn’t easy.”
“No. I don’t suppose it is.” Amy laughed. “Five and six year olds are an interesting bunch, to say the least.”
“You sound like you have experience.”
“I do.” She smiled. “I taught first grade before I moved here.”
“First grade in church? Or first grade in school?”
“School. I’ve never taught a Bible class.”
“Don’t you go to church, Miss Welsh?” Amy was touched by the sudden concern in Shayna’s eyes.
“Yes.” She smiled. “But I haven’t attended anywhere since I moved here. I am a Christian, though, and I’m sure I’ll find a church soon.”
“Maybe you can go with us sometime.” Before Amy could answer, the clerk called their number.
“I’ll get it!” Shayna jumped up and scrambled toward the counter.
“How come you haven’t gone to church since you moved here?” Quentin spoke softly, almost as if concerned. Like father, like daughter.
“I’ve just been getting settled, that’s all.” She thought back to this morning, how she’d chickened out. “Really,” she assured him as well as herself. She looked away and took a sip of her Dr. Pepper.
The warmth of Quentin’s hand startled her when he covered hers with his. She continued to stare out the window at passing cars. One look into his eyes while he touched her hand, and she’d be lost. Headed for another heartbreak.
“Amy,” he said softly. “Would you like to go to church with us tonight?”
“That’s a cool idea,” Shayna declared. She plopped the pizza on the table. Quentin dropped Amy’s hand.
It would be perfect. She wouldn’t be walking into a building full of strangers all alone. But a sudden dread in the pit of her stomach held her back. “Um, I don’t think I can tonight.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Quentin said. “Sunday nights are usually informal. We do devotions and sing. It’s very relaxing, and very uplifting. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I would.”
“Then why don’t you come?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“This is like eating a grilled cheese sandwich,” Shayna grumbled around a mouthful of pizza.
“Kids.” Quentin shook his head as he watched his daughter head toward the counter to ask for some more sauce. “Oh, by the way, the mystery is solved.”
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