Free Seasons Under Heaven by Beverly LaHaye, Terri Blackstock Page A

for his hand. “David, it doesn’t matter about the people as much as it does about Jesus.”
    He got up from the bed and lost himself in the shadows. “I thought I’d escaped this. When I left home, I never had to go back. And you never cared about church. Now, all of a sudden, you’re all gung ho for this religion stuff, and I’m supposed to just accept it?”
    “It’ll make me better, David. Not worse.”
    “I don’t think it’ll make you better,” he said. “I’ve seen what it does to people.”
    The conversation had ended, and he’d gone back to the television. She had decided right then and there that she would simply pray for him to change his mind, and make sure he found nothing in her faith to be bitter about. She must have succeeded, for when they began having children, he allowed her to take them to church. But he refused to go himself.
    His reasons were locked up somewhere inside him, and he refused to let them out. Over the years, though, she had guessed at some of them, from things his mother said before she died. Things about David’s father being a preacher—a fact thatshocked her, since David had never mentioned it. Things about that same father running off with the church organist when David was a small boy. Somehow, all of that figured into his bitterness and anger at the church. But she knew there had to be more. And she prayed daily that he would someday open that cage and share its contents with her, and turn to the God who healed past hurts.
    That prayer had not been answered yet, thirteen years later, but she hadn’t given up.
    Her heart was as heavy as it had been in a long time, and she decided to call her prayer partner. She dialed Sylvia’s number, hoping she wasn’t waking her.
    “Hello?”
    “Sylvia, it’s me. Brenda.”
    Sylvia had always been able to detect when something was wrong. “What is it, darlin’? Is Joseph okay? I got to the party late, and Tory told me what happened.”
    “Um…I don’t really know.”
    “Are you dressed?”
    Brenda looked down at the clothes she’d had on all day, wondering why Sylvia asked. “Yes, why?”
    “‘Cause I’m coming over. Meet me on the front porch.”
    Brenda felt better already as she hung up the phone and headed outside.

C HAPTER
Nine
    John didn’t take Cathy directly to the restaurant. Instead, he told her she needed to relax, and he knew just the thing. He drove to the top of Bright Mountain to park at the Point, and as the lights flickered on across Breezewood just before dusk, he tried to skip at least three of the natural dating steps.
    She pushed him away and got out of the car.
    “Aw, come on. What’sa matter?” he asked as he followed her.
    “John, you asked me to dinner, and I said yes, that I’d love to have dinner with you. I didn’t come out with you tonight to get groped and manhandled.”
    He looked wounded and misunderstood. “I thought comin’ up here would help you relax. I’m tryin’ to be romantic.”
    “I don’t want to be romantic with you,” she said. “I hardly even know you.”
    He pretended to pull a knife out of his heart. “And here I thought you liked me. You seemed so free and loose around the clinic.”
    “Free and loose?” she repeated. “How do you figure that?”
    He shrugged. “I just mean that bouncy ponytail and those Keds, and you always have a big smile for me.”
    “That’s free and loose? You must be kidding.”
    He chuckled as though he was kidding. “Come on, get in the car. I’ll take you to dinner.”
    Sighing, she got back into the car, closed the door, and hooked her seat belt. He dropped in on the other side.
    “Tell me something,” she said, still angry as he pulled the car back onto the road. “I’m just curious. Do other women you go out with really allow you to grope them before your car engine has even warmed up?”
    He chuckled under his breath. “Come to think of it, most of ‘em don’t. Maybe I need to change my technique.” He