Chapter 15

That first kiss, chaste as it was, told me things that I hadn't realized before, at least not so strongly or in such a clear way. I had known intellectually that Yirmeyah loved me, and I'd felt the honor of that, of having such a wonderful man love me, and not for my body either, or because I'd snared him with my childish flirtations, but because he saw something in me – in my heart and mind and soul – that drew his soul toward mine. But the emotional reality of it hadn't hit till I yielded to my impulse and felt his cheek under my lips, and then felt his lips on my own cheek. There's a song which says that if you want to know if a man loves you, it's in his kiss, and perhaps there's some truth in that old Motown tune, because that brief exchange of kisses told me more about Yirmeyah and about myself than all our conversations up till then.

But I didn't say anything. I had to talk to someone about it first, someone who knew about love and who I could trust to keep things confidential and someone who I would be comfortable talking to. I thought about Mama, but as much as I love her I didn't think I could talk to her about this. She'd explained to me all about menstruation and sex and birth control, although she hoped that I wouldn't use birth control to avoid the consequences of immoral sex and I never did or had to. But I didn't think I could go to Mama and talk to her about the sudden confusion I felt about Yirmeyah.

The rest of that afternoon he and I were sort of inseparable. It was a swimming party, of course, and so we weren't always together, but he paid me more attention than he did any of the other women, and he was more tender to me where he was simply pastoral and brotherly to them. And when the party broke up as it began to darken, he was the last to leave, and he held my hand for a minute, looking into my eyes, and then he very carefully, as though I were a porcelain doll, leaned forward and kissed my cheek again. And then he suddenly let go of my hand and whirled and went, as though he'd frightened himself with his boldness.

I made a phone call that night, and after church the next morning I followed a friend to her house in the Singing Arrow neighborhood, down close to where I-40 comes out of Tijeras Canyon and crosses Tramway. She was a young widow whose husband had left her a fine house and enough money that she didn't have to work, and could spend her time being a friend to every wounded soul she met, it sometimes seemed like to me. More than once she'd missed church because she'd come across someone who needed her more than the pew needed her to warm it, as she put it.

I pulled in behind her in her driveway, and we went into her bright kitchen, with its view of Tijeras Arroyo and its bleached wood table that sat heavy and strong in the middle of the floor. She set water boiling for tea, for her parents were Scottish and she actually was born in Scotland, and she retains some Scottish customs and even some of her Scottish accent. While the water heated we talked about the sermon, and about how our eyes were the same amazing green, though that was an old subject with us, and we talked about how Yirmeyah was proving to be a very good pastor as the growth of the church showed, though that was getting close to home. When the water was hot we poured it over our tea bags, and added sugar as we desired, and stirred. She added milk too, a British custom I guess or at least a Scottish one, for I've never heard of an American putting milk in tea.

And then Kenzi looked at me, her brown hair showing red highlights, and asked, "What it is that you need to talk about, love?"

"I guess you know that Yirmeyah and I have been dating for a while now," I told her. She nodded. "What you probably don't know is that he loves me and wants to marry me. And you don't know that Friday he led me to trust Christ – really trust Him – for the first time in my life."

"You're a Christian now, Cassie? Hallelujah!" And she got up and danced a few steps across the floor, perhaps one of her Scottish dances, though I don't know anything about them and for all I know she could have been just moving her feet out of sheer uncoreographed happiness. She came around the table and folded me into a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "I'm so happy for you, Cassie. I've wondered if there would ever be a fire in your faith, and now there is."

I couldn't help laughing. I've known Kenzi for a few years now, ever since she came to Hopeful Church after her husband died, and I have yet to see her find a way to hide her emotions. When she's happy it's as plain as a rainbow right in front of your face, and when she's sad it's like a dreary week of rain, and when she's angry the best thing to do is find another county to be in. Kenzi's exuberance was merely her natural self.