Wind Over Marshdale (27 page)

****

Ryder answered the door after just two knocks. He stepped out onto the stoop, quickly shutting the door behind him and surveying the landscape. “I'm not actually supposed to go out of the house,” he informed. “I'm still grounded.”

“Aren't you coming to youth group tonight?” Billy Chang asked.

“I doubt it,” Ryder responded. “I suppose I could ask again.”

“Trent deserved it,” Billy said.

Ryder's eyebrows rose in surprise. “I didn't think you liked fighting.”

“I don't,” Billy shrugged. “But sometimes enough is enough. Even us quiet types have a breaking point.”

“Exactly,” Ryder agreed. “Thanks for pulling me off the guy, though. I was pretty mad.”

“I could tell,” Billy laughed.

“I don't know what happened exactly,” Ryder mused. “I just lost control or something. It was kind of scary.”

Billy nodded his agreement once again. “Yeah.”

“It's weird. I should be used to it—the prejudice, I mean.”

“I don't think that's something you ever get used to,” Billy noted.

“As if you would know,” Ryder scoffed.

“Why wouldn't I?” Billy asked.

Ryder frowned, considering the question. “I don't know. I guess I never really thought of you as—different. Not like me, anyway.”

“Open your eyes,” Billy said. “I'm Chinese, remember?”

“Yeah, but… that's not the same.”

“Poor Ryder,” Billy said, shaking his head. “You think you're the only one to have to face racism? I've been called chink my whole life. Sure, people are nice enough, as long as you're serving them their favorite Chinese food. But my parents have never really fit into the community beyond that. It's funny because some of my ancestors have probably been in Canada longer than lots of the kids around here. My great-grandfather on my dad's side helped build the railway. But as far as most people are concerned, we're still foreigners. Chinese immigrants whose place is in a restaurant or a laundry. At least nobody can question your right to be here.”

“Sorry. I guess I was just thinking about myself.”

“Forget it,” Billy brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Now, are you gonna ask your dad if you can come to youth group or not?”

****

Con and Rachel left her apartment with a parting wave to Mrs. Beatry, who was peering out of the upstairs window, and got into Con's truck. Rather than turn left at the four-way stop, Con turned right.

“Where are we going?” Rachel asked. “I thought we were going out for dinner?”

“We are,” Con said with a smile, looking at her briefly before pulling out onto the highway that led out of town.

“But Sonny's is that way,” she said, pointing.

“Sonny's? You think I was taking you out for dinner there? This calls for something a little more special.”

“Where? There are no other restaurants in town.”

“Maybe not in this town,” Con laughed. “There's a bit more selection in Silver Creek.”

“Of course,” Rachel nodded. She'd been out for dinner to Silver Creek before. Only not with Con McKinley.

“It's a nice community,” Con said. “Still small enough for the small town feel, but with more amenities than Marshdale. The doctor that comes to Marshdale clinic is from Silver Creek. Grandma Minnie lives in the nursing home there. It's her one-hundredth next week. We're having a party on Sunday, though.”

“Wow. That's amazing,” Rachel responded.

“Mmm-hmm. She's a pretty cool old lady, if I do say so. I think she'll like you.”

He reached over with his free hand and took Rachel's into his. She could feel the warmth from his fingers tingling up into her whole body. She wished that she didn't feel so at a loss for words at these moments. But perhaps there were no words that could express her true feelings.

The early dusk of November had already almost turned to dark. Con spotted a deer loping through a field and pointed it out to Rachel.

“How did you spot it at such a distance? I probably would have missed it,” Rachel commented.

“Habit, I guess. You need to be careful. Especially after dark,” Con replied.

They arrived in Silver Creek and Con pulled into the parking lot of a familiar restaurant. Apparently the “Sizzle T Steak and Spaghetti House,” was a popular spot for dinner dates. Con's hand rested gently on the small of her back as he maneuvered her into the dimly lit restaurant. The dark paneling, crushed red velvet upholstery, and Spanish theme hadn't changed since the last time she'd been here with Thomas. It seemed like eons ago.

They found seats in an alcove and waited as the hostess brought their menus.

“Probably not the classiest place you've ever been to,” Con commented, noticing Rachel's perusal of the interior.

“Hmm?” Rachel replied absently.

“I imagine there are lots of fancy places back east that you're used to going to. I suppose we could have driven into the city,” Con offered as way of apology.

Rachel smiled. “No, this is great. I was just admiring the hometown character. Besides, that's much too far to drive tonight. I would have starved to death.”

“The food here is really good. If you like traditional fare, that is.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, we prairie folk like our beef.”

“So what do you suggest?” Rachel asked, flipping open her menu.

“Hmm. They do a great prime rib, the steaks are always done to perfection, and the souvlaki is a good choice, too,” Con replied as he examined the menu.

They spent a few more minutes in casual conversation as they looked over the menu.

“Hi, folks,” a red haired waitress wearing too much eye makeup said as she brought water and utensils. “What'll it be tonight?”

“I'll go for the prime rib,” Con decided as he closed his menu and handed it to the woman.

“Con? Conrad McKinley, is that you?”

Con scrutinized the waitress for a second. “Donna?” he finally asked in recognition.

“In the flesh,” she replied.

“I didn't know you were back in these parts. Weren't you out in Vancouver?”

The woman swore crudely before replying. “I've been back a month or so.”

“So, you live here in Silver Creek?”

“For now. You'd think I'd know better,” she added with more expletives.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce you. Donna Fletcher—or, no, it's Black, now, right? Donna this is Rachel Bosworth. Rachel—Donna.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Rachel said politely. Something about the other woman irritated her. Maybe it was her crass vocabulary.

“Donna and I went to school together,” Con explained to Rachel. “So what brought you back to the prairies? I thought you liked the excitement of the West Coast?”

“Cost of living is way too high. That and I finally split with my old man,” Donna informed, flipping her head nonchalantly as if to move her bangs. The truth was, her hairdo looked to be sprayed into an impenetrable helmet and didn't budge. “I needed some time to chill. I'll probably send for the kids at Christmas.”

“Oh, I see. Sorry to hear that,” Con offered.

“That's life.” Donna shrugged. “Now I should get your order in, if you want to eat. Have you decided?” She gestured at Rachel.

“Um, I'll just have whatever Con is having,” Rachel replied.

“Got yourself a good one, this time, Con,” Donna winked as she took Rachel's menu. “But I s'pose that's how you always liked ‘em. Nice and compliant.”

Rachel could feel her color rising, but she didn't have a comeback. Donna took their order and swung away.

“Don't mind Donna,” Con advised, leaning forward. “She's always been a bit blunt. She likes to come across tough, but she's really not that bad. She's had a hard life.”

“Of course,” Rachel said, forcing a smile. “No big deal.” Donna's comment was the kind of thing her mother or sister Michelle might have said. Something just subtle enough to effectively put her in her proper place. Beneath them. She chided herself for overreacting—again. Her emotions were definitely much too sensitive these days.

“Just so you know,” Con continued, taking Rachel's fingers and rubbing them between his own, “In case Donna says something. We went out together in high school for a while.”

“Oh,” Rachel replied. A ball of jealousy instantly formed.

“She was the preacher's kid and was out to prove something, I guess. That she wasn't a goody-goody, or something. And I was, well, searching for my own faith, I guess you could say.”

This revelation about Donna surprised Rachel. “She was a minister's daughter?”

“Yep. You know what they say. Sometimes it's the preacher's kids that are the worst of all. We were just young and stupid. She dumped me anyway, and moved on. Like I said, we were testing the boundaries—searching out our faith.”

“It looks as though you've found yours,” Rachel commented. “I'm not so sure about her.”

“She knows. She just hasn't given in yet.”

“Given in?”

“To God.”

“Oh.” There it was again. The ever present references to religion.

“Oops. I told myself no preaching tonight. Sorry.” Conrad smiled disarmingly.

Rachel smiled back as the feelings of uncertainty melted away in Con's gaze. She would have been content to do nothing all evening but feel the warmth of his hand on hers and stare into the depths of his blue eyes.

Unfortunately, she had to snap back to reality when Donna brought their salads. “Here you go,” she said, setting the individual salads down on the table in front of them. She was about to leave and then turned back, directing her next comment at Rachel. “Oh, and you can thank me for teaching him everything he knows, if you know what I mean. Although, I hope he's learned to prolong things a bit.”

Rachel glanced over at Con and saw that his cheeks were turning red. “Sorry,” he apologized on Donna's behalf. His voice sounded tight. He was either angry or just embarrassed, Rachel couldn't tell which. “Trust Donna to say something totally inappropriate. We can leave if you want.”

“It's okay,” Rachel said. “Forget it.”

“You sure?” Con asked.

“Unless you want to,” Rachel offered.

“I don't want to give her the satisfaction.” He shook his head and a slight smile was beginning at the corners of his mouth. “I guess we all have skeletons in the closet, but apparently there's no hiding mine. And for the record, we were just kids,” he added.

“Please don't explain.” Rachel couldn't help giggling.

Con allowed a full-fledged grin to soften his features. “It's really not that funny. Very humiliating, but definitely not funny.”

It was good to laugh about life's mistakes, Rachel mused. Otherwise you'd drown in your own tears.

****

A smaller than usual group of young people had gathered at Pastor Todd's for Youth Group. A low key Bible study and some board games were on the agenda. Everyone was a little burnt out after the Halloween festivities, not to mention the fact that some very inclement weather had whipped itself up. Many of the out-of-towners had opted out of driving in for the event, including the McKinleys.

Billy, Suzie, Faye and Ryder were lounging on the couches in the basement rec room. With Billy's assistance, Ryder had been able to convince his father that he'd served sufficient time.

“So we were talking about the Great Commission,” Pastor Todd reiterated. “We are all called to be missionaries—to tell people about Jesus.”

“But that's hard sometimes,” Faye Rowan, one of the regulars, piped up.

“Especially when people don't like you,” Billy added.

“We are to love our enemies,” Todd countered.

“But how? That's too hard,” Faye persisted. “I've been trying and I'm just tired of it. You know?”

There were general nods of assent.

“Well, we can pray,” the pastor said, his voice trailing off. He looked over at his wife for support and got none. “Why don't we do that right now to finish up? Then we can have refreshments.”

The young people weren't about to give in so easily. “Faye is right,” Billy continued. “It's fine to say ‘pray'', but what can we do that is practical? Especially for our so-called enemies? Isn't that just asking for a beating?”

“I heard about something once,” Carol joined the conversation. “In fact, we did this at our last church, didn't we?” She looked directly at her husband. “It was called ‘Random acts of Kindness.'”

“Sounds cool. What do you do?” Suzie asked.

“Well, besides praying for people, you reach out by doing kind things for them. Things that would take them by surprise; that they wouldn't expect from you and without payment.”

“Like what?” Billy wanted to know.

“Shovel a sidewalk, stack firewood, deliver groceries. There are lots of things. Even just bring a small gift or card.”

“There are several folks around town that I'm sure would appreciate a hand with odd jobs like that,” Todd affirmed. “Even some of our board members.”

“That's true, but I was thinking more along the lines of something—and someone—unexpected. Not that we wouldn't look after the board members, too,” she was quick to add.

“Okay…?” Billy prompted. His interest had been piqued.

“Think of the most unlikely person you possibly can,” Carol went on, gaining enthusiasm. “Someone that you really don't like very much or that you think is totally unapproachable.”

“Trent,” Billy said, elbowing Ryder in the ribs.

“Then you start to pray specifically for that person every day. Ask God to give you a new love and respect for that person. Help you to love that person with the love of Jesus. And also ask Him for specific ways that you can reach out in a practical way. I think you'll be surprised at the way God will work.”

“Would we all pray for the same person or for different people?” Faye asked.

“That depends,” Carol mused. “I suppose we could do both. What do you think, Todd?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Whatever works, I suppose.”

“The most unlikely person, eh?” Billy mused, rubbing his chin.

“I know!” Suzie blurted excitedly. “I have the perfect person. Your neighbor, Ryder. Mirna Hyde.”

All eyes turned to Suzie, as if she'd gone mad.

“What? You did say the most unlikely, right?” she defended.

Carol nodded. “That I did.”

“I'm not sure that would be appropriate since her sister is on the board,” Todd pointed out.

“Maybe they both need our prayers,” Carol said, looking directly at her husband for several seconds. Todd just frowned.

“I like it,” Billy said.

“What about you, Ryder? What do you think?” Suzie asked.

“She is definitely very strange,” he confirmed.

“What's it like having her for a neighbor?” Faye asked. “Do you think she holds séances and stuff?”

“I'm not sure this is at all appropriate,” Pastor Todd reiterated.

“You know what I find really weird?” Suzie continued thoughtfully.

“What's that?” Carol asked.

“You never see those two together.”

“Who?” Billy asked.

“Miss Marni and Miss Mirna,” Suzie replied. “You always see one or the other, but never together.”

“Do you blame them?” Billy laughed. “If I had a twin like that, I wouldn't want to be seen with them either.”

“Let's be careful, now,” Todd warned.

“Sorry,” Billy apologized. “But you must admit she is a bit strange.”

“Eccentric,” Faye supplied.

“Strange,” Billy corrected. “They both are.”

“And you never see them together,” Suzie repeated. She turned to Ryder. “You're Mirna's neighbor. Have you ever seen them together? Does Marni ever go to visit her sister?”

Ryder scrunched his brow in thought. “Yeah, I think I have seen her come out of the house once or twice, so I guess so. They look a lot alike, though, except for the clothes. Sometimes it's hard to tell.”

“What if there's only one of them?” Suzie suggested, wide-eyed, obviously enjoying her rabbit trail.

“Now what are you talking about?” Billy asked.

“What if Mirna murdered her sister and is just pretending to be both?”

“Okay, I think that is quite enough speculation,” Todd said, his voice commanding for once. All the young people looked over at him in surprise. He usually didn't speak so forcefully. “We are definitely going to end in prayer and have our snack. There's a storm brewing outside and I want to drive you kids home before you all end up storm-stayed at my house for the night.”