When Tomorrow Comes (25 page)
As always, it was difficult to find an empty seat as Eric and Christine were ushered into church on Sunday. “I see why you say you need to build,” he whispered in her ear.
She saw a few heads turn as they made their way almost to the front of the sanctuary—mostly young people who no doubt were wondering if they were “an item.” Well, she wasn’t there to worry about that. She was there to worship.
They squeezed in beside an older couple whom Christine did not know, smiled a good-morning, and picked up the hymnal to share.
She was surprised at his wonderful tenor voice, and he sang out heartily. It seemed to inspire those around them—including herself. She paid more attention to the hymns and sang more fervently than usual.
She stole a glance his way a few times during the service and noticed that the minister had his full attention. Once she even heard a whispered “Amen.” She liked that. She liked to think he had come to church to worship God—not to spend time with a girl, even if the girl was she.
He had been invited to dinner, so he drove her straight to the house. Aunt Mary had assured him that they appreciated his time schedule, and dinner would be served as quickly as possible. She planned the meal accordingly, having a casserole in the oven and the salad already made and in the refrigerator. Lucy had volunteered to stay home to prepare the meal, but Mary would have none of it.
“No need for you to miss church,” Christine had heard her say. “We’ll just fix a simple meal that we can serve promptly.” So that was what they did.
By the time Christine and Eric arrived, the warm, inviting smell of the hot biscuits met them as they stepped through the door into the hall.
“Umm,” said Eric. “I think I’m going to like this restaurant,” as Aunt Mary appeared, biscuit pan in hand, to welcome them and tell them everything was ready.
The meal was very pleasant. Eric, quite familiar with Jon’s business in the city, visited easily with Jon and Mary. Jon, in turn, knew of Eric’s family, though they were not actually acquainted. Only occasionally did Eric add his trademark humor to the conversation. Christine was thankful that he seemed to know where to draw the line. It was as important to know when not to engage in banter as to know when to put it to use, in her thinking.
She was aware that even though Eric seemed relaxed and enjoyed conversing with the others at the table, he was also keeping a careful eye on the clock. Apparently he took his responsibilities seriously as well. That earned another plus chalk mark on her growing list of personal assets.
They enjoyed lemon pie and a second cup of coffee, then with a glance clockward, Eric placed his napkin on the table. “This has been most delightful,” he said, sending a warm smile Mary’s way, “but I see my time has quickly gone. I’m afraid I must excuse myself. Thank you so much for a delicious dinner.”
He turned to Lucy, who always joined them at the table on Sunday. “You are a wonderful cook, Mrs. Taylor. I’m surprised that word hasn’t gotten out to the Palliser Hotel. I’m sure they’d love to steal you away for their dining room kitchen, if they knew.”
Lucy waved aside the compliment, but her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
“You needn’t see me out,” Eric said, laying a hand on Christine’s shoulder. “Enjoy your coffee. I’ll call you later.”
With another acknowledgment of his host and hostess, he left the dining room.
“What a pleasant young man,” said Aunt Mary.
“Yes,” said Uncle Jonathan. “You’ve chosen well, Christine. Your folks would be pleased.”
Christine felt her cheeks burn. She had not yet “chosen.” She still wasn’t sure how she would choose should she be given the opportunity. But was it wise to protest the assumption seemingly made? She wasn’t sure of that either. They had been dating. She let the statement pass.
Christine had a new round of nerves the Sunday they were to visit Eric’s church. It was a beautiful building but not ostentatious, and the worshipers seemed as warm and enthusiastic as in her own church. She felt comfortable from the moment she sat in the oak pew and joined in the singing of familiar hymns.
The minister presented a thought-provoking message, and Christine heard many amens to the inspiring challenge. So enrapt was she with all that was taking place she almost forgot that they were to go to Eric’s home for dinner.
But when the last song had been sung, the last amen pronounced, Eric managed to find her gloved hand. He gave it the slightest squeeze. “Come,” he whispered, “I’ll introduce you to my folks.”
“Can’t we wait until we get to your house?” she asked nervously, hoping for some time to get herself together.
“My brothers and their wives want to meet you too. They won’t be coming for dinner. Had other plans.” He looked into her face a moment and said, “You don’t have a thing to worry about, Christine—they’ll think you’re great, just like I do.”
Christine gave a small smile in return for his and allowed herself to be led out to the foyer. It was already crowded with people busily engaged in conversation. Eric headed straight for a group off to the left. Christine assumed he must have told them all where he’d meet them.
His two brothers were as fair as he. One was a shade taller and the other just a bit heftier, but she could have told in a minute that the three were brothers. The young women standing with them both looked very nice. Even with her inexperience in such matters, Christine could tell that their suits had come from the city’s best shops. As Eric led her up to the group, they fell silent. Christine decided they were sizing up this new girl on Eric’s arm. She wondered momentarily just how many other young women Eric had brought to meet the family in the past. Her eyes circled the group, and she saw they all returned her smile. That was a comfort.
A woman to one side with her back to them was deep in conversation with another woman of the church. Eric looked toward her and shook his head. “My mother,” he whispered, but there was respect and love in his voice. “She’s always having committee meetings—even in the foyer.”
She must have heard him, for she swung around quickly. “Eric.”
She had very kind eyes. And the easiest, most sincere smile Christine had ever seen. She turned the full warmth of it on Christine now.
“And this must be Christine,” she said, reaching out with both hands.
Christine did hope the woman wasn’t going to go overboard and embarrass her with a gushy embrace. But though she took Christine’s hands in both of her own, she went no further. “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said, and she sounded most genuine. Christine liked her immediately.
Eric’s father was a bit more effusive in his greeting. Though there was nothing in his manner that was offensive, Christine got the distinct impression that he thought it about time his youngest son settled down. He also seemed to assume Eric had already made his choice, and both through his words and manner indicated his hearty approval. Christine felt her cheeks growing warm.
Why do people jump to such quick conclusions?
she wondered.
She was then introduced to the other family members. Each one was courteous and gracious. She supposed she should have felt relief—but for some reason she could not define, she did not. It was as though they all had concluded that she and Eric were already an item. That she was “bound” before even making the decision. It made her uncomfortable. They had only shared a few dates. What had he been telling them?
The home was elaborate, as Christine had expected. The dinner was delicious, as she also would have expected. They were most cordial, very sincere in their faith, entirely dedicated to family as Christine could tell when Mrs. Carlton showed pictures of her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren out in Victoria. But Christine was not able to relax.
I don’t belong here
kept playing through her mind, though she could not have said why.
What girl wouldn’t feel uniquely blessed to be welcomed into such a family? And by such a nice-looking, well-mannered young doctor—one who shared her faith and seemed to care about her deeply? It didn’t make any sense that she hesitated. No sense at all.
She tried to push the thoughts aside and enter into the dinner conversation.
“Christine grew up in the North,” Eric announced.
“The North. How interesting.” This, with a smile, from his mother.
“My father is with the RCMP,” she offered.
“RCMP. We have them to thank that the West was settled in such a civilized fashion,” said Mr. Carlton. “My father, who helped build this town, said they never had one bit of trouble with the local Indian tribes—thanks largely to the RCMP, the North West Mounted Police as it was known back then.”
Christine nodded. She knew the history of the Force and had often begged for stories of its beginning as she’d been tucked in bed at night.
“The natives trusted them,” Mr. Carlton noted. “Learned soon enough that they’d take no nonsense from renegade whites any more than they would from the Indians.”
Again Christine nodded.
“Well—they’ve done a good job of it. Hats off to your father and his fellows.”
Christine felt a moment of pride.
“Her brother is also an officer,” Eric went on.
“Is he up north as well?”
“No. No—he’s stationed down in the South.”
“He was in a bad auto accident last Easter,” Eric explained. “That’s when I met Christine. She came often to the hospital.”
“Well—it’s an ill wind that blows no good, as they say,” said his father. “I wouldn’t wish an auto accident on anyone, but at least this one brought the two of you together.” His jovial smile and words left Christine feeling uneasy. Another assumption. She shivered slightly.
Eric must have noticed. “Are you cool? Would you like me to close the window?”
“No. I’m fine. Thank you,” she managed, but she was glad to wrap trembling fingers around her warm coffee cup.
“My folks loved you,” Eric told her later as he drove her home.
From somewhere deep inside she found some courage.
“Eric, I . . . I liked your parents too. But don’t you think— I mean everything seems to be moving too fast. Folks are assuming things that . . . that we have not even discussed. I feel rather . . . rather like I’m being pushed over a cliff or caught in the rapids. I—”
He laughed. “Well—your northern roots are sure showing there. Caught in the rapids? Not many rapids around here.”
Christine flushed.
“You know what I was trying to say,” she said seriously.
“They don’t mean to be taking certain things for granted,” he defended. “I guess I have raved about you a bit. And then when they met you and realized that I didn’t exaggerate—that you are everything I said—of course they jumped to conclusions. After all, I have finished my training and I’m ready to settle down. Why wouldn’t they think—”
“But they’re wrong. We have never even discussed any— future plans. It—”
“Shall we discuss them now?”
To her amazement he pulled the car to the side of the street and stopped. Then turned to her, as serious as she had ever seen him. She flushed.
“Eric,” she managed to blurt out before he could say any more. “We hardly know one another. I don’t think that one can even think of anything so . . . so important without—”
But he hushed her. “I know there are many things we haven’t learned about one another yet. I know that. But, Christine, everything I do know about you . . . fascinates me. No, let me finish. It’s not like I haven’t known any other girls. I have. And it’s not that I haven’t had opportunities to form other relationships.”
She could well imagine that was the truth. With his good looks and suave ways, young women would be tripping over each other to get to him.
“But I haven’t met any others like you,” he continued. “I really haven’t. You are not just attractive—and I admit that has its draw.” The teasing showed in his eyes, but they quickly became serious again. “But it’s more than that. Much more than that. I like your devotion. Your commitment to your family and your Lord. I like the way you smile, even the way you frown. I like your class—”
“Please, Eric,” she begged. “Please.”
He stopped.
One arm spanned the distance between them, resting on the back of the car seat. Fingers toyed with a lock of her hair that hung over her shoulder. It was the first he had touched her like that. It was unsettling.
“I . . . I like you too,” she stammered. “I don’t deny that. I keep telling myself just how fortunate I am that you . . . even noticed me. But I think . . . well . . . I think we are moving too fast. I haven’t had time to think. Time to pray. A lifetime is a long time, Eric. I . . . I made a wrong choice once. I very nearly married a man who . . . who was not at all right for me. I don’t want to make that kind of mistake again. Can you understand that? I need time. I have to be sure.”
He wrapped the curl around his finger and nodded, but there was pain in his blue eyes. “I understand,” he agreed. “If you need time to pray—”
“No, Eric. Not just me. I want you to pray too. To honestly seek God’s will in this. We both have to be sure. It’s not just what
we
want—it’s what
He
wants for us.”
He nodded. “I can’t argue with that.”
They were both silent. Christine was inwardly praying. She wasn’t sure what Eric was thinking.
“So where do we go from here?” he asked. There was pleading in his tone, even though he did not express it in words.
Christine felt her shoulders slump. “I’m not sure.”
After another time of silence, she spoke again. “How about if we agree to earnestly, honestly, pray about it for a week? Then call me.”
“ ‘Earnestly, honestly,’ ” he repeated. Then he nodded. “Okay.”
He continued to finger her hair, watching the way the curl wrapped tightly about his finger. “You want to go home now?”
“Please.”
He surprised her by leaning forward and gently placing a kiss on the lock of hair. Then he let it slip from his finger and turned to start the car.
Christine began the week by rising early and spending some extra time in Bible study and prayer. She did want God’s will for her life. She really did. How could she know what His will was? “Ask and ye shall receive,” Scripture said. Christine was intent on asking.