A Sounding Brass (17 page)

She smiled at him, and he watched a tiny dimple dent her cheek, down at the left corner of her mouth. How had he not seen
that before? “Not anymore, it seems. Did you see Owen’s blue tie with the green stripe?”

He hadn’t. “At least he didn’t dye his hair purple. And speaking of green, that suit’s a nice color for you.”
You silver-tongued devil, you.

“Thanks. But it’s more than our appearance, Ray. Gathering is three times a week, and that comes first before what we want
to do. Then there’s all the places God’s people don’t go, such as movies, clubs, theaters.”

“I don’t get out much anyway.”

“You might have to reconsider your choice of career.”

Whoa.
“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you carry a gun, don’t you?”

“Yes. Well, not now. It’s in my truck. But in the city I do.”

She spread her hands. “You’re in law enforcement, and the possibility exists that you could kill someone.”

“I do everything possible to avoid that possibility. Any good cop does.”

“But still. You’re in a career where it could happen. Not like accounting or teaching or—”

“Radio work.”

“Right.”

“Okay, I’ll take that under advisement. How do I become a member?”

She sighed, and finished the last of the muffin. “That’s a problem right now. Normally you’d come to a number of Mission Gatherings,
and then the Shepherd would offer you an opportunity to make your choice public. But at the moment we don’t have any Shepherds.”

“Wait a minute.” Cognitive dissonance set up a buzzing in his brain. “Ross told me that a person is born again, begins a relationship
with God, and then they go to a church they choose.”

“Well, that’s the easy way that worldly churches do it, I suppose. In the Elect, the Shepherd would make sure you have the
proper understanding of our ways before he gave you the invitation.”

“Your ways? But Ross says you just begin a relationship with God. Learn His ways.”

“Well, sure. His ways are the ways of the Elect.”

“What about other churches’ ways?”

“There’s only one way, Ray. Jesus laid it down for us, and that’s the path we walk in.”

“‘Jesus is the Way.’”

“Right. His way is the way the Elect live.”

“You’re saying two different things.”

She sat back, distress shadowing those eyes. “Now, see, this is why you need to come to Gathering. I’m terrible at explaining.
The Shepherds give their whole lives to do it, so they know the words to use.”

“So, you’re saying that because there isn’t a Shepherd around, I can’t come to Jesus?”

Her face crumpled, and she lost that salesman-like look of animation she’d been trying to hold up. “I don’t know, Ray. It
sounds terrible when you say it like that, but I suppose that’s the way it is.”

“Claire, don’t you think that’s a little wonky? I mean, I don’t know a whole lot about it, but I would think it’s more of
a heart thing. Like the difference between falling in love and going through the marriage ceremony. One’s a heart thing, and
one’s a legal thing.”

She propped her elbows on either side of her plate and ran her fingers up into her hair, gripping her head as though there
were a buzzing in her brain, too.

“I don’t know. Things are changing, and change is good. I totally support Luke and Owen. But I still don’t know how the Shepherds
can stand in the gateway, saying who gets to be saved or not. Even though we say we’re broadening our horizons, I still don’t
see how people can be saved if things aren’t the way they were. And that’s a little scary because nobody’s talking about it.”

He didn’t have any answers, either. It was enough of a struggle to get through a day without adding this extra layer of religion
on top of everything. Though Ross seemed pretty convinced that a relationship with God made things easier, not more complicated.

One thing was for sure: He was out of his depth, and when you got too deep, there was only one thing to do. Paddle back to
shore.

He tossed ten bucks on the table. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your car, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she said miserably as they ambled back down the block. The evening air was cool, giving a not-so-subtle hint
that fall was on its way.

He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Don’t be. There’s a good reason people don’t talk about
politics and religion over their food.”

“But I
should
be able to talk about it. It’s all I’ve ever known . . . and yet, I know so little about it.”

“That depends what
it
is, I guess. God’s way or the Elect’s way.”

“Maybe that’s the trouble. Maybe I’ve been taught that they’re the same, and now I’m beginning to think they’re not. Maybe
I want all the rules about clothes and hair and—and where a person lives to just go away so I can do what I want. But how
is that doing God’s will?” She glanced up at him as they crossed the parking lot to where her car sat all alone. “And if you
tell anyone I said that, I’ll hunt you down personally and hurt you.”

He tried to look harmless and innocent. “I don’t know anyone to tell. Besides, my lips are sealed. I never pass on what my
friends say to me.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, as if she were looking to see if his lips really were sealed. Something sizzled through him
and he froze in place, gazing into her eyes as if they were enclosed in a bubble and the parking lot, the few cars, the trees
planted along the sidewalk had all disappeared into the night.

She swallowed, as though she felt it, too.

No
, some part of his brain said incredulously.
Not this girl. Not now.

“Ray?” His name was a whisper on the charged air.

“Yes?” The word was practically soundless, a question less of her than of the universe or God or whatever combination of events
had led him here to this place, this woman, this sudden halt in the carefree cartwheel of his life.

She shook her head. Did she mean she’d forgotten what she’d been going to say? Or was that voice in her head telling her the
same thing?
No. Not this man. Not now.

There was only one thing to do.

In a single smooth movement, he leaned down, tilted her chin up with the tips of his fingers, and captured that sweet mouth
with his.

* * *

CLAIRE WASN’T THE
most experienced girl on the block, but she’d had a boyfriend or two in the past and she knew what she was doing in the kissing
department.

Or so she’d thought.

Single women outnumbered Elect men by such a wide margin that every guy knew he could move on and have another girlfriend
by the next Sunday Gathering. Steady dating often involved a careful strategy of mind games, wrestling skills, and the political
savvy of a gubernatorial candidate.

But now none of that seemed relevant. Ray’s kiss was simply
Hello
.

Hers was
I don’t know you
.

His became
Let me show you
.

And oh, hers was
Yes—

“Hey, hey, hey! We’re in the right place for the love of God, but this is going too far.”

The laughing baritone popped them apart as though they were spring-loaded, and if Claire hadn’t caught herself against the
rear fender of her car, she might have staggered backward and fallen over. Ray reached for her arm to steady her, and dropped
it once he saw she was going to stay upright.

“PDAs, Claire.” Owen Blanchard followed Luke, carrying a box of hymnbooks. His kids, Hannah and Ryan, trailed behind him carrying
the roll of designs between them. They were giggling at her. “Public Displays of Affection aren’t the best way to show your
example.” His words held a rebuke, but he was smiling as if he, too, could remember kissing in public. Sometime back before
dinosaurs became extinct.

“What are you guys still doing here?” Her face felt the same flaming red as a traffic light. Could they see it in the darkness?

“Just talking.” Luke eyed Ray up and down, and the latter stepped between her boss and herself.

“So were we.”

“That wasn’t how it looked from our perspective.” Luke grinned and Claire could see Ray’s hand clench.

“No matter how it looked, it’s none of your business. Stop teasing her. Can’t you see she’s embarrassed?”

Luke’s smile didn’t falter. “Well, now, one of the first things we learn as God’s children is that if you keep right with
Him, you don’t embarrass yourself by your actions.”

Claire opened her mouth to say something—anything—but Ray beat her to it.

“She hasn’t done anything to be ashamed of. You’re laying shame on her, pal, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself.”

“It’s all right, Ray.” She laid a hand on his arm and found the muscles under his shirt were rigid. She swung his jacket off
her shoulders and held it out, and he was forced to break eye contact with Luke in order to take it from her. “Thanks for
this.”

“You’re welcome. And it’s not all right with me. I don’t get why you’re not telling him off.”

“Luke and Owen are just looking out for me.”

“By using shame tactics?”

“Ray, please.”

“Okay.” His mouth closed on a grim line.

Owen unlocked his car a few spaces away and popped the trunk. The box of hymnbooks made a heavy
thunk
as they landed. He opened the car doors and the kids scrambled inside, Ryan buckling his little sister into her car seat.

“I’ll meet you and Mark at the bank in the morning, then,” Owen said, handing the roll of drawings to Luke. “With the collateral
we put up and the contributions from your listeners, the sale should be pretty straightforward.”

“Sale?” Ray asked.

“Please keep this confidential.” Owen looked from Ray to Claire. “Claire, you’ll be involved because of your position. Mark
and I have decided to offer our homes as collateral for the loan.”

“We’ll own the land and construction can start right away.” Luke’s voice held barely contained excitement. “The Lord has been
moving in strong and unmistakable ways, calling both Mark and Owen to this task.”

“My goodness.” Claire fished in her purse for her keys. “I hadn’t realized we were so close to getting started. That’s wonderful.
Well, good night, all.”

Luke moved a few steps closer. “See you bright and early tomorrow?”

She looked up from the pit of darkness that was her handbag. “Of course.” Didn’t he always?

“I was thinking we should get together before my show and go over a few things. Say, over breakfast?”

“Um . . .” Her mind went blank. Aside from the “welcome to the station” lunch, he wasn’t in the habit of asking her out for
meals. After the show he was always wired and buzzing with energy. He usually took off, drumming up advertising for the station
or taking informal polls on the street or going to the big music warehouse in Pitchford to troll for new music—doing the zillions
of tasks that went into the seamless production that was his show. Meals with the accounting manager didn’t usually fit in
with that level of activity.

“We need to talk.” Luke’s voice was always filled with music and humor, but there in the parking lot, she detected something
new. A hint of intimacy. A note that told her he maybe didn’t want to talk about fundraising strategies or music.

Oh my.

Ray said something under his breath and then cleared his throat. “See you around, Claire.” He turned and strode up the street,
his long legs making short work of the blocks that lay between here and wherever he was staying. Maybe he had better things
to do than stand around in parking lots talking to her and her friends. Cop things. Even vacation things. Things that mattered.
Not whether or not she was going to have breakfast with her boss.

“Claire? What do you think? Is seven
A.M.
at the diner too early?”

She brought her mind back with an effort. “No, it’s fine. See you then.” Her fingers finally closed around her car keys, and
she unlocked the door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

She had the distinct feeling he meant it a little more than your average boss should.

An hour later, showered, moisturized, and blow dried, Claire lay in bed and watched the branches of the tree outside the window
make patterns on the wall.

You kissed a worldly man.

Her brain was taking this a lot harder than her body. The latter had given in with hardly a murmur, falling into Ray’s kiss
with the ease of water leaping over a waterfall. Her brain, meanwhile, kept hearing Luke and Owen’s smiling admonishments.
They were right. What would the kids think? What would other people think when they found out, as they surely would? How could
she have been so careless as to kiss a worldly man right out there in public—and in the mission hall parking lot, no less?
She was lucky Alma Woods hadn’t been behind a tree watching. She would have had to kiss her reputation good-bye.

But it had been wonderful, sighed her body.

A lot of help you are. Go to sleep.

Because if he really meant it about joining the Elect, then everything was different, wasn’t it? If Ray wanted to come to
God, there would be nothing standing in the way of a relationship.

Nothing but Luke and probably half a dozen members of the No Pride Club, who would trample her in the stampede for the attention
of another eligible man.

Not that Ray would have anything to do with them. He was too honest. He would know when a woman just wanted him for arm candy,
wouldn’t he? Besides, he had his career to think about. In Seattle. Where she wasn’t allowed to go unless she wanted to disobey
a Shepherd and by extension, God.

On that disturbing thought she finally fell asleep, but in her dreams Ray and Luke were paddling kayaks on the Hamilton River,
trying to get to her as she was swept along by the current. She soon saw it was more important to them that one beat the other
to where she flailed along on the surface, as though it were a race and she was the finish line.

Neither of them was actually thinking about rescuing her.