by Clare Revell
But she wasn’t that desperate and didn’t want him to think she was a stalker.
He was here for a few days, and then he’d be going home to his family and his job and his life on the other side of the world. Was she wrong to want more? To hope for more? To ask for more?
She opened the door on the way out to find John standing the other side, his finger poised over the doorbell. Her heart leapt into her throat. Joy at seeing him radiated through her, spilling into what was probably a silly smile glued to her lips. “Oh, hi, John. How was your day?”
“It was good.” His smile sent ripples down her spine and curled around her stomach.
“If you want to use the phone to ring home, Pip said to tell you it’s fine. Dinner will be ready at seven if you want it, and Pip should be back by six. I’m off to work. See you in the morning.”
John nodded. “Sure, good night.”
Jo smiled and took a step onto the porch.
“Where do you work?”
His voice stopped her in her tracks. “In the restaurant two blocks from here. It’s usually manic on a Saturday night. Oh, that reminds me. Did you find a church for tomorrow?”
“No, I haven’t done yet. I passed several, but none of them seemed right. Do you know of one fairly close that I could attend?”
“Well, you can come to ours if you like. We leave at nine.”
“That sounds good, thank you.”
“Welcome. OK, laters.” She hurried down the stairs, not wanting to be tardy, yet aware of John standing in the doorway watching her. She debated taking the car and decided against. It was only two blocks and a warm night. The walk would do her good and might even clear her mind of the one person filling it. He was coming to church with her tomorrow…
The thought pulled Jo up short. Had she just asked him out and he accepted? Did church count as a date? Since when did she start asking people out? Had someone hit her over the head with a two by four when she wasn’t looking? Or was she so infatuated with this Englishman that she’d do anything to spend as much time with him as she could?
****
Work was busy and by the time she finished at eleven thirty, Jo was hot, sweaty, and exhausted. All she wanted to do was go home, shower, read her Bible, pray, and fall into bed. Second thoughts, skip the shower. Read, pray, then fall into bed and shower in the morning. Much better plan.
She stopped short as she hit the street. John sat on the bench opposite the restaurant. His blond hair shone under the street light, his jacket hung open in the warm night air and a white shirt, with an almost neon glow in the light, clung to his chest.
Wondering if she were seeing things at first, Jo stood there for a moment. Then she moved over to him. “Hi.”
John got lazily to his feet. “Hello. I figured I’d come walk you home. If that’s all right with you. Pip told me what time you finished. I didn’t like the idea of you walking home alone in the dark.”
Still awestruck by the way the light emphasized every muscle of his body, she paused a second while his words sunk in. He cared about the fact she’d be walking in the dark? Half of her wanted to tell him that she did that a lot. After every shift in fact. The other half was amazed at the chivalry of a total stranger. Not even the guy who lived across the hall, whom she’d known for months, had manners that good. Such politeness must be a Brit thing.
Her voice didn’t want to work. She found it after a long pause. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
He fell into step beside her. “How was work?”
“It was pretty busy. Saturday’s always are, but tonight was the worst yet. I did get a break of some description, but being shorthanded didn’t really help. Not when the queue was out the door at one point.”
“Maybe no one wanted to cook tonight because of the heat.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Speaking of cooking, dinner was delicious. Thank you. I wasn’t expecting you to cook for me. It’s enough you guys are providing me with somewhere to crash.”
Jo smiled. “No worries. I tend to cook most nights and don’t mind doing a little extra for you.”
“Thank you. It’s much appreciated.” He walked next to her, head and shoulders taller than she was. What would it be like to walk with his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder? Would the height difference make it awkward or better?
She shook her head. She should content herself with this. Nothing more would happen. She was being ridiculous.
“What’s your church like?”
His voice brought her back to reality with a jolt. She tugged her shirt down, forcing her voice to at least sound level, even if her heart were racing nineteen to the dozen. “It’s pretty big. We have two services on Saturday evening, three on Sunday morning, and two Sunday evening. Each one is packed with upwards of three to five thousand people over the course of the three morning services. Our sister church on the other side of the city is bigger. So over the course of all the services they get about fourteen thousand.”
John’s jaw dropped. “Wow. And I thought my church was big with three hundred at each service.”
“Have you heard of Hillsong?”
John looked at her then nodded. “Yeah, I have. We sing a few of the newer hymns at home. Most of them have Hillsong in the credits. Is Hillsong a church or a person, if that’s not a silly question?”
“Not silly at all. It’s the name of the church. It’s a combination of Evangelical and Pentecostal. What about yours?”
“It’s called Headley Baptist, but we ceded the Baptist union several years ago. We’re evangelical now.”
She smiled. “Hillsong is a lovely church. Amazing preaching—always Bible based, lots of praying, singing, hand raising and clapping. It’s a lot livelier than some of the churches around here, some would even class it as charismatic, but it’s awesome.”
“My church is more the shy, retiring type. We do have an orchestra that accompanies some of the hymns now, along with the organ. Drums, guitars, keyboards and so on. But our beliefs are the same and that’s what is important.”
****
Sunday dawned bright and hot. John woke early and spent the usual hour in prayer and Bible study before taking a leisurely shower. The apartment was quiet, so he made himself some tea and took it out onto the verandah. He sat listening to the sounds of the sea and the harbor. The view was beautiful. Maybe later he’d go and take some photos of the coast. Before leaving he intended to go into the Blue Mountains and take a photo of the Three Sisters.
That would be a laugh to take home and show the others. Call one Dorrie, one Emma, and one Ann—the same as his own sisters.
“Good morning, John.” The musical tone washed over him like a waterfall. He may only have known her a couple of days, but he’d recognize that voice anywhere.
John looked up as Jo came out clasping a glass of juice. “Good morning, Jo. I thought all Aussies said g’day.”
“Only to the tourists,” Jo laughed. “They seem to expect it. Care for some brekkie? Pip likes snags and baked beans on a Sunday.”
“Snags?”
“Sausages. Think you call them bangers?”
John nodded. “We do. Sausages sound great. Do you want a hand?”
“I got it. You’re a guest. Sit and enjoy the view.” She headed back inside.
John tipped back in the chair, stretching his arms over his head. The sky was a shade of blue you just didn’t see in England. Brightly colored birds flew overhead and rested in the branches of the tree opposite. He smiled as the sound of Jo’s singing reached his ears, and the smell of cooking assailed his senses. She and Pip had opened their home to a total stranger and treated him like an honored guest.
He knew why, and it had nothing to do with ulterior motives. It was the same reason his parents opened their home to missionaries and visitors and the people they usually invited over for lunch on a Sunday. It was a way to serve the Lord.
Staying in Sydney had gone from being the worst part o
f his trip to the best purely because of the hospitality of these women.
The fact he was rapidly developing feelings for Jo were neither here nor there. He just wasn’t sure what to do with them.
A male voice came from the direction of the house, and he glanced behind to see a tall man with sun bleached blond hair, suntan, and shades, pushed back on his hair, come out onto the verandah. The man smiled as he crossed the decking. “G’day. You must be John.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Rob, Pip’s other half.”
John stood and shook the offered hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Rob flashed a grin. “I thought I’d invite myself to breakfast, meet you, and drive the girls to church.”
Jo came out with a tray of juice. “Pip’s just in the shower. She won’t be long. John’s coming to church with us this morning. He can sit in the back of the car with me.”
“Ripper. Are you coming back afterwards, John? I’m going to sling some chook on the barbie this arvo.”
John looked at him, mentally translating that as barbecued chicken this afternoon. At the same time he was trying to push down the childlike reaction to the thought of sitting next to Jo in the car. “Thank you, but I’m going to Botany Bay after church. Maybe another time.”
Rob nodded. “Sure. Hey, a bunch of us are going out to the Rocks for dinner on Wednesday. Would you like to come?”
John’s heart thrilled at the unexpected invitation and the prospect of spending time with them. If only all Christians were like these people. Thank you, Lord, for giving me the chance to know them. And maybe Jo would be going. “I’d like that, thank you.”
Jo smiled at him. “Awesome. I’ve got Wednesday and Thursday off.”
John smiled back, his heart leaping for joy in his chest. The evening out had just got better. Then something made him change his mind about that afternoon. “Actually, lunch sounds great if you don’t mind me changing my plans. I’ll do Botany Bay tomorrow. Thank you.”
Jo’s smile grew wider if that was possible, but she didn’t say anything. Confusion filled him. Did she feel the same as he did, or was he just way off beam? Doubtless, given his track record with women, that was the case.
3
Church was something of a culture shock. So much livelier than what he was used to, John found himself more than a little overwhelmed. Not just by the volume of the very loud music, either. Although several thousand voices raised in song was more than incredible and an experience in itself. He couldn’t hear himself sing, never mind the people standing either side of him, but maybe that was simply because there were so many of them.
If he could imagine heaven, it would be like that. Thousands of voices raised in unified praise to God.
It was the clapping and dancing which really threw him. He’d never experienced anything like that before. Jo surprised him with her enthusiasm. She replied to the pastor when he asked a question or if he said something she agreed with, something unheard of in his church. She raised her whole arms, not just her hands, whilst singing. John shoved his hands further into his pockets, trying to still his tapping foot. He wasn’t going to get caught up in the obvious emotion of the moment.
I’d be lying if I said I were comfortable with this, Lord, but so long as You don’t mind me just standing here worshipping You in my own way, everything will be fine.
After the service, Jo turned to him. Her eyes shone with joy and peace. “That was incredible. Don’t you think?”
John nodded. “It was certainly different.”
Her eyes clouded for an instant. “Different?”
“From what I’m used to.” John hurried to explain himself. He didn’t want to upset her. “I’m more used to the stiff upper lip, thou shalt not appear to enjoy thyself in church type of service. We don’t answer the pastor mid sermon, actually we don’t even respond to his good morning. There’s no clapping or hand raising or anything like this.”
“Wow. That sounds kind of boring.” Color filled her pretty face. “Did I really say that out loud?” She grimaced. “Sorry.”
John laughed. “Yeah, you did, but it’s OK. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”
“Yeah. Anyway, come see the book and music stands and grab a drink. There’s about half an hour before the next service.”
“Next service?”
“We’re too big for one service, hence the three. I normally stay for two of them, but you don’t have to.”
“Is it the same sermon?”
“Yeah, but I always get something from it that I didn’t the first time.”
John let Jo lead him to the hall where several stalls were set up, selling CD’s of the church’s music, books and other things. This was alien to him as well. The verse about the den of robbers crept unbidden into his mind. Surely it’d be better to have a shop open Monday through Saturday, rather than this.
Different culture his mind repeated. You’re not in Berkshire anymore. And even the UK no longer closes on a Sunday—not since Sunday trading started.
Not wanting to appear rude, he glanced at some of the CD’s, committing the titles to memory. There must be somewhere he could get them during the week.
Jo reappeared with a cup of fruit juice. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded down at the table. “Most of those CD’s are live recordings. We learn the new songs over the course of a few weeks, and then we all turn up on a Saturday, and spend the day singing. Nigel preaches a couple of times during the day, but it’s mainly singing. Shame you won’t be here for the next one. It’d be something to remember us by.”
He nodded. “It would be. Have you been coming here long?”
“Since I became a Christian four years ago. I love the warmth and fellowship here. God is just so wonderful and gives us so much.”
John nodded. “Not quite all we want though, but yeah, stuff that matters.”
Jo shot him a curious look. “Like what? What do you want?”
He thought quickly. He wasn’t about to complain about being single, not to someone he hardly knew and especially not to Jo. “God knows what’s best for us, besides life would be boring if we got everything we asked for. We may well end up like spoilt children. Always whining and wanting more and throwing tantrums when we didn’t get it.”
“Very true.” She finished her drink. “We’d all end up doing time out on the naughty step. Are you coming back in?”
John held her gaze for a moment. “Sure.” He wasn’t convinced he was ready for another full on session, but he’d be with her, so he’d do it.
****
In the intense heat of the afternoon sun, Jo handed John a tall glass of juice. The ice chinked against the side of the glass, the sunlight sparkling off the cool liquid. Music played on the stereo, and the chicken sizzled on the grill. Rob’s deep laughter wafted over the verandah. Jo knew without looking he was skillfully managing the cooking with one hand, his other arm wrapped around Pip’s waist. Jo tried hard not to be jealous, but it wasn’t easy.
John took the glass. “Thank you.” He chugged it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed.
Her gaze lingered on his face before she tore it away. “How do you normally spend your Sundays? I assume you don’t work.”
“No, I have every weekend off. Sunday’s we go to church first thing, well the service starts at half past ten. Then Dorrie, her husband Fraser, and the kids come over to Mum and Dad’s for the day. Or we go to them. We play a couple of board or card games after lunch. Then it’s tea then back to church for the evening service.”
“What do you play?”
“Uno or phase ten mainly, or we play football with the kids. My nephew, Taylor, is football mad. Eats and sleeps it. Dorrie hates it.”
Jo laughed. “Does he get his love of the beautiful game from his dad then?”
He grinned. “You know the Brit term for it?”
“The internet is a wonderful thing sometimes.” She wasn’t going to
admit to having deliberately looked it up.
John shook his head, his deep chuckle thrilling her. “To answer your question, nope, he doesn’t. Fraser hated football at first, which Dorrie thought was wonderful, but now he seems to love it. She reckons she’s going to end up as a football widow in a few years’ time.”
“Probably. What about you?”
“Love football.” He winked at her. “I may have had more than a passing hand in corrupting both Taylor and Fraser.” He sipped his juice. “What about you?”
“I love football. Aussie football that is. What you call football, we call soccer.”
“Ah. See that’s not true football then.”
She raised an eyebrow, loving the simple banter. “Why’s that?”
“It’s football, the clue is in the name.” He winked. “Foot. Ball. See, anything you throw is hand ball or throw ball. Or rugby.”
Jo tilted her head. “Perhaps.”
Pip came over and joined them. “You two look cozy.”
Jo felt heat rush to her cheeks. “Just discussing the differences between football and soccer.”
Pip rolled her eyes in mock shock. “I’m not sure which is more shocking, Jo. You knowing the difference or actually discussing them.”
She must have looked as uncomfortable as she felt because John leapt to her rescue, changing the subject.
“I love your Christmas tree. Though it’s a little early to put it up, isn’t it? It’s only the middle of November.”
“Pip’s away in the UK for Christmas, so we’re going to celebrate this month instead. But I love Christmas. God did so much for us then. Set a whole chain of events in motion purely because He loved us.”
John nodded. “After all, if there was no Christmas, there’d be no Easter.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at Pip. “Are you going anywhere nice?”
“England,” Pip grinned. “Going to stay with Gran for Christmas itself. She’s too frail to put me up the whole time, so I’m doing the tourist bit before I get to her place on Christmas Eve. Rob’s on call otherwise he’d come with me. I’m going to miss him like crazy and I wish he were coming. Next time, maybe.”
