Called to Love

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Cissy shrugged and picked up her plate. “I’ve never felt threatened at the orphanage.” She rose and nodded toward his plate. Instead of handing it over, he got up and carried it to the sink. She followed, saying, “I’ve spent summers at the orphanage for years now. It’s fairly isolated, and no one’s ever been anything but welcoming and kind to me there.”

“That’s good,” he said slowly, putting his plate down and turning his back to the counter to face her. “Don’t you want to get married, though? I mean, if the orphanage is as isolated as you say…”

Cissy stuck the stopper in the sink, saying carefully, “I’d like to get married, but my husband would have to feel called to the mission field just as I do.”

“So you’re saying that you’re called to mission work.”

She faced him. “I’m saying that I’m called to this particular mission, and I knew it the first time I set foot in the place when I was a freshman in college. I took part in a summer mission project to build a dorm there. Up to that point, boys and girls shared a single sleeping room. After it was built, they had some privacy and were much happier. By the time I left, I felt as if I was leaving home instead of going home. That sense grew every time I went back on another temporary mission. So I tailored my course work in college to prepare for the day when I could return permanently, and when the original director retired, I applied for the position. I was compelled to do so. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Gil said softly. “I am a Christian. I understand what it means to be called, to have that urge, hear that quiet, still voice that speaks without words. I felt that way when I arrived in Grasslands.”

Cissy held his gaze, feeling a flutter of something in her chest.

After a moment, he smiled and softly said, “I confess that I haven’t been in church regularly for a while. Maybe it’s time for that to change.”

Cissy told herself that the delight rising within her was strictly a spiritual matter. If something she had said led Gil—or anyone—into a closer relationship with Christ, then her joy would be complete.

So why, she wondered, did she fear that her pleasure might be much more personal than spiritual?

Chapter Four (#ulink_03bf321a-21e1-5faa-bfaa-579acd58e226)

He shouldn’t have taken a seat across the aisle from Cissy and Sally Locke. Gil had known for a while that he needed to start going to church on a regular basis again, and he’d told himself that was his only reason for attending this Sunday morning service at Grasslands Community Church. But his choice of seats belied his reasoning, and he’d had a difficult time keeping his gaze off Cissy. Only during prayer had he been able to concentrate.

It shamed him to think how long it had been since he’d joined with others in speaking to God. He knew very well the benefit of corporate prayer and realized that his personal ambition had led him astray. He’d been so intent on stashing every extra dollar for the ranch he wanted that he’d forgotten to worship. Cissy’s determination to move to Mexico and run an orphanage there had made him realize what he was doing.

He glanced her way again, oddly pleased to find her looking at him. She nodded and smiled, and his heart sped up, as if he was some stupid grade-schooler with a crush. He managed what he feared was a sickly smile in response and focused his attention rather desperately on the pastor.

Jeb presented a profoundly simple message that held Gil’s interest to the very end. Only after the final song had been sung, the parting prayer had been said and the congregation stepped out into the various aisles was Gil once more confronted with Cissy Locke’s lovely countenance. She’d piled her curly orange-red hair on top of her head, leaving tendrils to waft about her face and call attention to her unusual pale green eyes.

“I’m glad to see you here today, Gil,” she told him softly.

For some reason he couldn’t make his tongue work properly. “Ah, uh, g-good sermon.”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed.

He coughed into his fist, hoisted his hat in farewell and then realized that he couldn’t charge off up the aisle in front of her. “A-after you.”

She turned and patiently trailed the chattering throng pushing sluggishly for the exit. Sally held back to speak with another woman, so Gil had no choice except to fall in behind Cissy. As they inched along, he studiously avoided touching her.

He left her just outside the building, wondering why he felt so troubled and dissatisfied all of a sudden—and why God had brought this woman into his life now. What could possibly be the point?

He needed to keep his distance from Cecelia Locke. Starting with giving the Locke job precedence. The sooner he got Cissy Locke out of his head, the better.