Threat of Darkness(80)

 Becca gaped. The Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Stravinsky’s “Firebird Suite.” Her whirling mind seized on one seemingly pertinent fact: “You’ve already bought the tickets?”

 “You won’t believe what I had to go through to get them,” he confirmed with a laugh.

 She didn’t know what to think or say. She did know that her grandmother was going to be very unhappy.

 But for the first time, that seemed a surprisingly minor consideration.

 The symphony! With Davis.





SIX

On Friday, Becca posted a sign on her classroom door directing all choral students to study hall—and Ryan Jefford promised he would make certain none of them skipped—leaving Becca free to leave school early and prepare for her “meeting” with Davis. She refused to think of it as a date and resolved to pay for her own ticket to the symphony, going so far as to declare to her disgruntled grandmother that this outing signified nothing more than the pastor’s desire to thank her for playing the piano for worship services at the Magnolia church. Grandma harrumphed about that and complained bitterly about being left in the care of twenty-one-year-old “infants.” Becca did not point out that she had only been eighteen when she’d become her grandmother’s caregiver. She did, however, dress to go out in the green velvet that she’d worn for the choral concert, twisting up her hair to leave tendrils curling about her face and neck, and even went so far as to trade her glasses for the contact lenses that she rarely bothered to wear.

 Grandma Dorothy’s worried expression became querulous when Davis’s sleek black coupe pulled up at the side of the street, followed by an older sedan driven by one of the twins. She complained that his coupe looked too fast and the sedan too unreliable. The twins she deemed “flighty” before they even reached the door. Becca ignored it all. Caylie and Carlie breezed in with their usual exuberant humor, and Becca found herself whisked out on the charming assurances of their brother.

 “You look spectacular,” he said, handing her down into his car.

 Becca blushed and smiled for the next hour, while he rattled on about one thing or another. Eventually, however, they fell into a comfortable silence. He pulled over in Bowie to pick up a fast-food dinner for them, which they ate in the car.

 “I apologize for this,” he said, folding back the wrapper of his hamburger, “but there isn’t time for more.”

 “Oh, no, this is fine,” she protested. “I just wish you’d allow me to pay for mine.”

 He chuckled at that. “Now, what kind of date would I be if I allowed you to pay your own way?”

 “Date?”

 “What else?”

 Becca gulped and blurted, “But I’m older than you!”

 He lifted both eyebrows at that, swallowing a bite of French fries. “Yes. And?”

 “A-and I’m older than you!” she repeated, confused. “By five years.”

 “Doesn’t seem so very much to me,” he said with a shrug. “My mother, after all, is eight years my father’s senior.”

 Becca gaped, frozen, until he gently pointed out that she was about to drop mustard all over that lovely gown. Glancing down, she managed to catch the bright yellow glob with her napkin, despite the confused, excited whirl of her thoughts.

* * *

 Davis smiled to himself. Poor darling. She really had no notion of how adorable she was or of how thoroughly besotted he found himself. He felt the same calm assurance about her as he did about his calling, and for that he praised God. Surely God would not allow her shyness or her grandmother’s fears to stand in their way. He supposed the meeting of the church elders tomorrow would settle at least the latter issue and prayed that he had not misjudged Becca’s own feelings. Meanwhile, the symphony lay ahead.

 They accomplished the remainder of the drive in conversation borne of simple observance. Yet, he learned much. She liked a house with a red roof, but her favorite color was periwinkle blue. She’d never learned to drive a stick shift or ride a horse, and she longed for a less cluttered style of home than her grandmother kept. She envied her younger sister.

 “But you’re much prettier,” he insisted, “and more talented, though she’s a very nice lady, I’m sure.”

 Becca stared at him as if he’d grown a third eye in the center of his forehead before she frowned and said, “But Bethany is much more outgoing.”

 He considered that and decided, “I suppose I don’t need another outgoing woman in my life. My family is full of them.”