Gil argued with himself on Sunday morning. Part of him wanted to stay safely in his bunk at the ranch and far from Cissy Locke, and yet part of him felt a newly aroused yearning for worship. The latter won out. He told himself—yet again—that he would keep his distance from Cissy. Then he laid eyes on her.
She looked as pretty as a picture, her vibrant hair piled loosely atop her head. The crisp, tan, short-sleeved dress that she wore belted at her surprisingly narrow waist showed off her shapely figure with admirable modesty, its turned-up collar emphasizing the graceful length of her neck and providing a pedestal for her lovely face. It was all Gil could do to concentrate on the service. Afterward, he could no more snub her than he could take root and grow branches, especially as she suddenly appeared right in front of him.
“You saw the presentation Friday night,” she said urgently. “What can I do to make it better?”
Surprised, he told her the blunt truth. “Nothing.”
She paled, her freckles standing out in stark relief. “I knew it! I’ll have to redo the whole thing.”
“No,” he said, taking her by the arm and propelling her quickly up the aisle through the crowd. “You misunderstand.”
They wove their way to the door and slipped out, nodding at the pastor as he shook hands with others. Gil walked her to the edge of the trees surrounding the green in the center of town.
“Your presentation is wonderful. You don’t need to change a thing. You’re just having an attack of nerves.”
She nodded. “But making the presentation to a few people in a small room is a lot different than making it in front of a large crowd. I feel like I’ve swallowed a gallon of butterflies.”
Gil chuckled. “You’re going to do fine tonight. Just talk about the photos the way you did last time.”
She nodded, eyes averted, as if trying to convince herself. “Yes. That’s what I’ll do, focus on the slides.”
A horn honked. They looked up to see Sally Locke wave as her pickup truck flashed past them. Gasping, Cissy stamped a foot.
“Mother!” Her cheeks flamed a bright pink as she turned to Gil. “She did not just leave me here!”
Gil couldn’t help grinning at the blatant maneuver. “She did. It’s okay. I’ll drive you home.”
Groaning, Cissy dropped her face into her hands. “That’s what she wants. She thinks if we get together I won’t go to Mexico. She’s just around the bend about it.”
Gil could understand that. He wasn’t thrilled about Cissy leaving, either, but he understood that she was called to this work at the orphanage. She would go. And soon. Just as she should.
So why not make the most of the time left? Avoidance certainly wasn’t working.
“Come on,” he said, sliding an arm across her shoulders. “Might as well grab a bite to eat on the way.”