Second Time Around Part 10

'You have a good heart, Lucy. And one day, you're going to make some lucky guy very happy.' Her heart soared and she held her breath, her entire body tensed nervously, ready for the kiss she had been antic.i.p.ating these last few weeks. She tilted her chin up slightly and momentarily closed her eyes but, when she opened them again, Oren was on his feet, peering over her shoulder at the books on the desk behind her. 'Now show me these pa.s.sages you're having trouble with and I'll see if I can help.'

She swivelled round, praying that he hadn't noticed her foolishness, picked up the Bible and handed it to him. 'There's plenty to choose from,' she said drily, looking at the many coloured Post-it notes peeking out from every section of the book. Each one marked an unintelligible pa.s.sage.

He opened the Bible at one of the pages. 'Ah, Hebrews. That's a tough one.'

Lucy watched his brow pucker in concentration as he read, his lips moving but no sound coming out. They'd held hands and Oren had even hugged her on several occasions but that was as far as physical intimacy between them went. Lucy had seen enough soaps on TV to realise this was unusual and she yearned for more. 'Oren,' she said and paused.

'What?' he said distractedly, not looking up.

She swallowed, summoning up the courage to speak. 'Don't you want to kiss me?'

He looked up abruptly, let out a sigh and knelt down on the floor again, the Bible clutched in one hand. He smiled at her indulgently. 'Of course I want to, Lucy.'

'Then why don't you? I want you to.'

He grinned and let his head fall like a puppet then raised his gaze to her once more. 'Woman,' he said teasing her, 'are you trying to lead me into sin?'

She pressed her hands between her knees. 'No, but I don't see what the harm is in a kiss.'

'A kiss is one thing but it leads to others. Believe me. Look, I know this is going to sound ridiculously old-fas.h.i.+oned but one of the things I like about you most is your purity, Lucy. I've a great deal of respect for you and I don't want you to do anything that you or I might later regret. Does that sound crazy?'

It didn't sound crazy to Lucy at all. It sounded rather romantic.

He found one of her hands and pressed his big, hot palm to hers, their fingers interlacing like a puzzle fitting together. 'What we have is special, Lucy, and I don't want to spoil that or rush things. s.e.x outside marriage is a sin. I feel it's best if we avoid temptation. Okay?'

Lucy, blus.h.i.+ng, nodded. She had never felt so cherished, so loved, in her life. Her heart swelled with joy. She had interpreted Oren's apparent aversion to intimacy as a sign that he wasn't interested in her. But the complete opposite was true. It was because he cared for her that he wanted to take things slowly. He'd even mentioned marriage for heaven's sake!

'Come and sit beside me,' commanded Oren, patting the s.p.a.ce beside him on the duvet where he'd sat down again. 'And we'll go through this pa.s.sage a verse at a time.' Lucy willingly obeyed and, as she sat with her shoulder brus.h.i.+ng his rock-hard bicep and the clean soapy smell of him filling the room, she could not believe how her life was transformed. Only a few weeks before she had despaired of a normal life, of love, of marriage. And now she had Oren, good and gorgeous and dependable.

The skies were heavy with black clouds and a bitter November chill was in the air when Lucy and Oren pulled up outside the red-brick house in Oakwood Grove. Most of the leaves had fallen from the oak trees that surrounded the house and they lay in banks against the walls and fences like mottled brown snow.

Mum opened the door to them with a big, wide smile before Lucy had even rung the bell.

Guided by his faith, Oren was conservative in most things, and Lucy was therefore relieved to see that her mother had dressed soberly for the occasion, in a patterned skirt, low-heeled boots and a modest green crew-necked knit. Not mumsy exactly, but not as trendy as the jeans and white s.h.i.+rt combo she usually favoured which Lucy secretly thought had the whiff of mutton dressed as lamb about it.

In the past Lucy had often wished that she had the confidence to dress as fas.h.i.+onably as her mother but, since meeting Oren and coming to know G.o.d, that longing had dissipated. She had no desire to compete with her mother in the looks department she had come to realise that inner beauty was far more valuable than outer appearance. She liked the fact that Oren didn't approve of women wearing make-up or revealing clothes because it took away all the pressure to conform to society's ideal of female attractiveness. But although Oren liked her as G.o.d had made her, without artifice or adornment, this knowledge did little to boost her fragile ego. For, while Lucy no longer fretted about her outer appearance, she now worried about her inner goodness. She feared that, in spite of prayer and application to her Bible studies, she would fall short of Oren's exacting spiritual standards. And, when it came to G.o.d, Oren had no time for slackers.

'You must be Oren,' said Mum, not waiting to be introduced. 'It's lovely to meet you. Lucy's told us so much about you.' She reached out her hand eagerly. Oren took it and said, politely, 'Pleased to meet you too, Mrs Irwin.'

'It's Ms. Murray, actually. But there's no need for formality. Call me Jennifer, please.' She stepped aside, opened the door fully and waved them both inside. 'Come in, both of you.'

In the cramped hall they took off their coats and the three of them stood awkwardly, Oren looking around him, and Mum said, 'Lunch is ready. Why don't we eat?'

In the kitchen, which smelt strongly of wet dog, m.u.f.fin lifted his head when they came in but didn't get out of his basket. Lucy went straight over, knelt down by his bed and stroked his damp fur. She looked up at Oren and said, 'This is m.u.f.fin.'

'Yep?' he said, examining the collection of photos, postcards, and other detritus pinned to the notice-board by the door.

Turning her attention back to the dog she tickled him under the chin and said quietly, 'Hey there, boy.' Then, addressing her mother, 'Is he okay? He didn't get up when I came in. That's not like him.' She noticed, but didn't add, that he smelt a bit more whiffy than usual.

'He got a bladder infection,' said Mum and Lucy gasped and pressed her lips to m.u.f.fin's bony head. 'But don't worry,' she added, hastily. 'Your Dad gave him tablets and he should be better soon. He says it's very common in dogs his age.'

'Oh, that's good,' said Lucy, relief flooding through her. She tickled m.u.f.fin in his favourite spot behind the left ear.

'Does he stay in here when you're eating?' said Oren.

'Where else would he go?' Mum eyed him suspiciously. 'Don't you have dogs on the farm, Oren?'

'Of course,' he said, 'but they're working dogs. They live outdoors.'

Lucy laughed. 'Well m.u.f.fin's a pet, aren't you, boy?' She cooed soothingly into the ear on his good side, which Dad said still had some hearing left, and then added, 'And pets get treated differently. More like one of the family.'

'That's exactly what he is,' said Mum firmly while Oren squeezed himself into the chair in front of the kitchen door. Lucy went over to the sink and washed her hands, while Mum banged about with bowls and a soup ladle. 'It's not much I'm afraid. Only soup and sandwiches. I got some nice cheese though and that chocolate cake you love from the bakery, Lucy. Maggie'll give you a proper meal later you'll enjoy that.'

She took a bottle of sparkling mineral water out of the fridge and placed it by a basket of bread. Then she surveyed the table and dusted her hands together. 'Right, I think that's everything. Oh, there you are, Matt. Just in time.'

Matt stood in the doorway in a grey t-s.h.i.+rt and sweatpants which looked like he'd slept in them. His hair stood up on end and he clearly hadn't shaven. 'Hi Lucy,' he said, coming over and giving her a peck. He smelt of sweat and last night's stale booze.

Lucy made introductions and Matt said, 'You'll have to excuse me,' with a downward glance and an unrepentant grin. 'Bit of a heavy night last night.' He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, revealing dark patches of sweat on the armpits of his t-s.h.i.+rt, and Lucy was suddenly embarra.s.sed by her brother. Why hadn't he made more of an effort? She didn't need to look at Oren, well turned out in smart trousers and a clean s.h.i.+rt with his hair carefully combed, to know what he was thinking.

Oren took the lead by saying a short nicely phrased grace and then, over lunch, he told Matt and Mum all about his Theology course. Afterwards, they had coffee in the lounge. Mum opened a box of Lir truffles and handed them round. Lucy took one, bit it in half, and then wished she hadn't. For when it came to Oren, sitting across the room on one of the big armchairs, he held up the flat of his hand like a s.h.i.+eld and said with a pleasant smile, 'Not for me, thanks. I don't take alcohol.'

Lucy swallowed the chocolate with difficulty and quietly set the remaining half on her saucer. Oren a.s.sured her that G.o.d disapproved of alcohol in all forms but she'd momentarily forgotten. Temptation was everywhere. Thank G.o.d she had Oren to keep her on the right side of it.

'What? Not even a tiny bit?' said Matt, examining the truffle he held between his fingers, turning it this way and that as if looking for some flaw.

'Alcohol, in any form, is a transgression of G.o.d's law.'

Matt raised his eyebrows, shrugged and popped the truffle in his mouth. Mum, sitting on the edge of her seat, made a funny noise and cleared her throat. 'More coffee, anyone?'

They all shook their heads and Oren leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. 'Lucy tells me you're an interior designer, Jennifer.'

Oren had the knack of making people feel at ease and Mum was no exception. She chatted happily about her work for a good ten minutes, apparently oblivious to the fact that Oren was just being polite in asking. Lucy could tell he was bored because his gaze was drawn to a coy female nude, sketched in charcoal, that had hung to the right of the fireplace for years.

'And you decorated this room yourself?' he said, inadvertently cutting across Mum, who was still babbling on.

'Why, yes,' said Mum with a little frown, following his gaze. 'Ah, yes, an artist friend from my uni days drew that for me. Isn't it well done?'

'Well, I am surprised. I hardly think it appropriate to display the naked female form in a family drawing room. Do you?'

Lucy, startled, looked at the picture in a new light. The seated model had her back partially turned to the viewer, but her drooping left breast and her full, rounded b.u.t.tocks were on display. She blushed. Oren was right. It oughtn't to be hanging there. It oughtn't to be on display at all. There was a long uncomfortable pause, during which Mum glared at Oren and he stared evenly back at her. Thankfully, Matt chipped in and told Oren all about his new job. At the mention of Ben Crawford's name, Oren's interest quickened.

'I went to school with Ben Crawford at Campbell College. We were in the same year, but our paths didn't cross that much. We had different ... interests.'

'Norn Irn is a small place,' said Matt, using the vernacular p.r.o.nunciation of Northern Ireland, in which four syllables were compressed into just two, and everyone laughed.

'It's true though, isn't it?' said Mum with a strained smile. 'No matter where you go in the province, or who you meet, you always find someone in common.' Matt left the room to take a call on his mobile and Mum, clearing her throat, went on, 'And what about your parents, Oren? Are they both well?'

Oren told her that his father and mother still worked the family farm, aided by his elder, unmarried brother, who would, one day, take over the place. The way he played it down was typical of his modest character. From what he'd told Lucy, the family holding was extensive, much of it leased out to tenant farmers.

'It's nice that they're still together. So many people get divorced these days,' observed Lucy, unable to resist making a dig at her mother. When her parents had first separated they'd told her and Matt that it was no one's fault. But this wasn't true. She'd subsequently learned from her father that he'd never wanted the divorce.

'My parents are still together because they believe in the sanct.i.ty of marriage,' said Oren firmly.

Mum stiffened. 'Well, I think we all do, don't we? In principle anyway.'

'Some more than others,' said Oren wisely and he leaned forward and added gently, in that lovely caring way of his, 'Lucy tells me you got divorced twelve years ago. I'm sorry for you. I take it you tried for a reconciliation with your husband?'

Lucy held her breath and waited to hear her mother's response. Dad had offered to go for marriage counselling but Mum, apparently, wouldn't have any of it.

Mum's face went the colour of the pink flowers on her skirt. She looked at Lucy, then Oren, with an expression of astonishment on her face. 'With the greatest respect,' she said, sounding more than a bit peeved, 'I really don't think that's any of your business.'

'It affected Lucy a great deal,' went on Oren, and Lucy blushed. How had he divined this? His insight was incredible. She had only mentioned the divorce in pa.s.sing, even though it had been the defining moment of her life. 'Children,' he went on, 'are always the ones to suffer in these sad situations. That's one of the reasons why the Bible prohibits divorce.'

'I'm sorry, Oren, but I find this conversation intrusive,' said Mum snippily, tugging at the hem of her skirt. 'These are private matters concerning Lucy and her family, not outsiders.'

Oren's face clouded and Lucy was furious. Oren was only trying to help. Why was she so reluctant to talk about the divorce? Was it because she was ashamed? Lucy got up and went and sat on the arm of Oren's chair. 'As far as I'm concerned, my family matters are Oren's business.' Oren squeezed her hand.

'Well,' said Mum, sounding fl.u.s.tered. 'Yours might be, but mine aren't.'

A long awkward silence followed which Oren eventually broke by letting go of Lucy's hand and standing up. He hitched his trousers up by the waistband. 'I'll just use the bathroom if you don't mind.'

Mum pointed the way. 'First on your left.'

As soon as he'd left the room Lucy hissed, 'Why did you over-react like that? You know, Oren's got a real talent for pastoral care. Most people find him really easy to relate to. If you just '

'I don't need him ministering to me,' said Mum, with a scowl. 'And if I did find myself in need of spiritual guidance, he certainly wouldn't be my first port of call.'

Lucy narrowed her eyes. 'I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to find fault with Oren just so that you can ruin my relations.h.i.+p with him. Well, it won't work. Me and Oren are like this.' She held up her right hand, her index and middle fingers entwined.

Jennifer's shoulders sagged. 'Don't be ridiculous, Lucy. I'm not trying to ruin anything.' She pressed the heel of her hand on her forehead momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh. 'I just don't want you to make a mistake. I can see you're very ... fond of Oren.' She paused then, as if reluctant to spit out what she was really thinking.

'But?' demanded Lucy. There was always a 'but' with Mum.

Mum glanced at the empty doorway. Lucy heard the sound of a toilet being flushed. 'Well, all right then,' said Mum, 'I'm just not sure he's right for you.'

Lucy snorted. 'In what way?'

'You don't seem to be yourself in his company. You hardly said a word over lunch.'

Lucy folded her arms, resentment bubbling up. 'Well, that's rich coming from you, isn't it?' she said bitterly. 'Given your track record, you're hardly qualified to dish out relations.h.i.+p advice.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake,' said Mum, striking the seat of the sofa with a dull thud. 'Will you stop banging on about something that happened to me and your father twelve years ago?'

'Well, that's where you're wrong, you see,' said Lucy flatly. 'The divorce didn't just happen to you and Dad. It happened to me and Matt too.'

Mum flashed dark brown eyes at Lucy and sealed her lips in a thin, tight line. Lucy heard the toilet door opening and, seconds later, Oren came back into the room.

'I think it's time we headed over to Dad's,' said Lucy.

'What about your bags?' said Mum, getting to her feet. 'Do you want to bring them in now or later?'

'I think,' said Lucy with a meaningful look at Oren, 'that we'll be staying at Dad's.' He raised his right eyebrow a fraction but said nothing. And to save him any further embarra.s.sment, she added, 'He's got loads more room.'

Mum cleared her throat and forced a hollow laugh. 'Yes, it'll be better than sharing a room with Matt, that's for sure. I can't vouch for what you'd find on the floor in there.'

'Hey, what are you trying to say?' interjected Matt, lounging in the doorway with his right shoulder propped against the door jamb. He pulled a hurt-looking face and everyone laughed, breaking the tension.

Mum gave him an indulgent smile and delivered what could only be described as an understatement for Matt's room. 'Well, let's just say that you and the cleaning caddy aren't best acquainted.'

In the car on the way across town, Lucy said, 'I'm sorry she was rude to you back there, Oren.'

He paused before speaking, a habit that infused everything he said with gravitas and made Lucy hang on every word. 'You have to make allowances for the fact that she's been on her own for the last twelve years. And that's a hard road for a single woman to walk, with no man at her side helping and guiding her. And she's not a Christian. Well, you and I both know that without Him we have no strength.' He paused again and glanced over at Lucy. 'She's a troubled woman, but you can help her, Lucy.'

'I can?' said Lucy in surprise. The notion that her mother might need her help had never crossed her mind. It had always been the other way round.

'You can pray for her.'

'Oh, yes, of course.' In her dim-witted slowness she had not thought of the obvious.

They drove the rest of the way in silence and, thankfully, things looked up when they got to Dad's.

'What a lovely house,' said Oren, as the car crunched up the gravel drive and came to rest in front of the Edwardian facade of Dad and Maggie's red-brick home. The mansion had once belonged to a prosperous sea captain and had fine views, facing east, over the Irish Sea. And when he smiled at Lucy she breathed easy again, knowing that the incident at her mother's had been forgotten.

Dad took to Oren straight away, perhaps because of the similarities between them. Both had played rugby at university and Dad was no stranger to the scriptures. While Lucy helped Maggie in the kitchen, and the girls ran about excitedly, Oren and Dad sat together in the high-ceilinged lounge discussing the dangers inherent in modern biblical translations.

Later, while Oren stood chatting to Maggie in the kitchen as she loaded the dishwasher, Dad took Lucy to one side in the handsome dining room and held both her hands in his.

'He's a great fella, Lucy,' he said with a happy, satisfied air, staring straight at her. 'Intelligent. Well read. I can't believe ... well, let's just say I'm delighted that you've found each other,' he went on and the hairs on the back of Lucy's neck stood up in exhilaration. And when he added, with a twinkle in his eye, 'I like him very much. Very much indeed,' she realised this was the seal of approval she had waited for all her life.

Chapter 11.

'Where shall we start?' asked Jennifer, as she stood with Ben close beside her, just inside the door of Hilary's vast furniture store. She tried to keep her mind on the task in hand but it was difficult. Ben's arm brushed the sleeve of her wool coat and the smell of his pine-scented aftershave filled the air. Just being in his presence sent her heart racing and she could not look him in the eye, for fear of betraying her feelings. She took a deep breath and looked around.

Before them stretched a sea of sofas, dozens of dining table sets and rows of bookcases, cupboards, sideboards and desks. And in the far corner, the finis.h.i.+ng touches that make a house a home curtains, rugs, lamps and cus.h.i.+ons. People flocked here from all over East Antrim and yet, on this dull November morning, the place was almost deserted. The only other customers were a white-haired elderly couple who sat on matching sofas facing each other, as if by their fireside at home, having a good chat.

Ben, in a navy reefer jacket, turned to face her and gave her one of his devastating, dimpled smiles. His presence overpowered her like a drug, distorting the world around her, making her feel like she was in a dream. 'I haven't a clue,' he laughed. 'That's why I asked you along. Tell you what, why don't you pick things out for me and I'll tell you whether I like them or not?'

She swallowed and smiled. 'And you trust me to do that?' she said, in a voice that implied, teasingly, that he might regret it.

'That, and more,' he said enigmatically and, though she blushed, she boldly held his gaze. 'I feel as if I really know you, Jennifer,' he said, touching his heart with the tips of his fingers.