Chapter 7

If Kevin had anticipated that Sunday, then he was pathetically eager for the next one. He had never experienced such a sensation before. It was definitely a cold day when it dawned, and looking out the window at the light snow that lay on the ground, he knew he'd need his jacket. And he pulled his chaps out too, black leather like the jacket and vest, with the Skulls' colors on each leg. Chaps had originally been a cowboy thing, protecting their legs from thorns as they chased cattle through the brush, but some bikers wore them as protection from bouncing cans or rocks, and they'd provide a bit more insulation against the cold.

It don't get like this in Fresno, he thought as he pulled the curtain back into place. Southern California isn't the perpetually sunny place that popular mythology makes it out to be – it does rain in California, turning the LA Basin chilly and miserable in winter, and people can regularly look up and see snow on Mount Baldy ... when the smog clears, that is. But except in the mountains southern California doesn't have anything like the bone numbing chill of such states as Montana and Maine. Even in Fresno, north of LA, winter isn't a frigid season. It snows so thickly in the Sierra Nevada mountains that it would be as easy to measure it in yards as in feet, but most of California's people don't live in the Sierras, and aren't accustomed to freezing, snowy weather, at least not in the southern half of the state.

Kevin had been following the plan Karin had given him the week before, and even with struggling through the difficult names and his lack of familiarity with reading and his uneducated vocabulary, he'd gotten halfway through Mark in a sustained rush. He was proud of himself – from ignorant biker to studying Christian in such a short time was an accomplishment, he thought. He wasn't sure he'd keep going at that rate, for it was an effort and mentally he felt like he'd been running for miles, but he hadn't done badly. He couldn't wait to tell Karin.

And there was another matter, too. But that was something he shied away from. It was going to be tough, maybe, getting up in front of everyone, but what was right was right, and he was going to do it.

Kevin had never driven on snow, and with the long front fork of the Hog he was extra careful. He couldn't say the same for most of the other drivers on the road, though the streets themselves turned out to be mostly clear and dry. They act like nothin's happened, he thought. Are they so blind they can't see the snow? He wondered what the drivers would be like with wet or icy streets – and decided he didn't want to know that bad.

He had a bad moment turning into the church parking lot, the rear tire skidding for a moment and giving him a sharp prod of fear. Thought she was gonna lay down for a minute there, he thought as he parked the bike. Would o' messed up my leg, I bet. A motorcycle doesn't weigh as much as a car, but it's not something you want on your leg either.

It was chilly. Kevin's jacket was zipped up, and his leather gloves had protected his hands from the worst of the chill, but it was still a lot colder than he was used to. He'd seen a few kids dressed in gang clothes, or what looked like gang clothes anyway – baggy shorts and shirts ... and no jackets. He'd seen similar kids in Fresno, though they'd been wearing sweatshirts in the heat of summer. An' I thought I was dumb. He had been dumb, at that, but at least he'd always tried to dress in accordance with the weather instead of in defiance of it.

Karin was handing out bulletins again – it seemed to be her regular thing – and he smiled and took one and said hello, but didn't stop to block traffic this time. "It's just too cold to stand here," he said, and passed inside.

The heat was going in the auditorium, and the crowd was adding its combined body heat to the air as well. He was running behind his usual schedule, for he'd been careful on the streets, and taken it slower than usual. He hadn't developed a usual place to sit, but had just been picking spots that were open, but today the only empty seats were at the rear of the building. He dropped into one in the center section, right in the back row and a little bit in from the right hand aisle. He figured that if someone else wanted to sit down it would be a lot easier to not have to slide by – his gut was somewhat larger than it had been when he was a kid.

He was looking over the bulletin when the piano started playing, and he hastily folded it back up and grabbed a hymnal from the rack in front of him. Just then Karin slipped into the pew next to him, where he'd left the open spot. "So we're sitting together today?" she asked with a smile.

"Guess so. Is this where you usually sit?" He'd seen her in a different place each week, he realized only after he'd asked the question.

"Not always. By the time we get to come in from handing out bulletins everything else is often filled up, and it's easier anyway to sit in back than squirm through the crowd. I often sit in back, but I usually just take the first empty spot I see, wherever that is."

He smiled. "I may just have to keep sittin' here, then."

The song leader announced the first song at that point, and the conversation was over, but Karin's smile was Kevin's reward. Light conversation had never been something he was good at – rough and tough bikers aren't much concerned with small talk – and doing it well, apparently, was gratifying.

He turned his attention to the service...

At the end of the service Kevin asked Karin to wait for a few minutes, and made his way toward Tyrone. He knew there were other elders, but Tyrone was the only black elder and that made him a lot easier to spot. Several people wanted Tyrone's attention, and Kevin became acutely aware of Karin waiting patiently for him at the pew, or perhaps by the door. Finally Tyrone was free, and Kevin stepped up.

"Mr. Jackman—"

"Please, call me Tyrone, or Brother Jackman if you just have to be formal."