Page 37 of Intermission
“Nice to meet you. I’m Faith.”
“You’re Gretchen Prescott’s little sister?”
I nod. “You played volleyball with her, right?”
Kaitlyn nudges her friend. “I told you.”
“Yes,” Bailee answers. “We both did. We were a grade ahead of your sister.”
“Faith,” Kaitlyn says, frowning in a way that sets off warning bells in my mind, “you do know that Noah is a good Christian guy, right?”
“The best,” Bailee adds.
“Yes. I know.”
They exchange a look. “We, uh, don’t want to see him get hurt.”
It takes a moment for the implication to make sense.
Oh.They assume I’m like my sister.
Bailee nudges Kaitlyn, whispering, “Here he comes.”
“You have a beautiful voice, Faith.” Kaitlyn’s voice is louder now, friendlier, and it’s certainly not for my benefit. Her smile is twenty kinds of fake. “Thanks for singing with us tonight.”
So that’s how you’re going to play it.“Thanks for having me.” I smile stiffly. “It was fun.”
“Pastor Jack is setting upPictionary,” she addresses Noah, who has arrived at my side. “Do you guys want to play with us?”
“I already told Kev and Darren we’d playGuesstures, but...” He looks at me. “What do you want to do?”
“Guesstures,” I concur, maybe a little too quickly to be polite.
Kaitlyn and Bailee go their merry way, not a moment too soon for my taste.
“Faith?” Noah’s expression is one giant question mark of concern. “Did I miss something? What happened here?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” I force a smile. “So, where do we find thisGuessturesgame?”
Noah puts his thumb under my chin and gently turns my face up. “What did they say to you?”
I sigh. “I guess they’re worried about your reputation.”
Noah wrinkles his nose. “Why?”
“Because they know my sister.”
His lips round. “I’m sorry. They shouldn’t judge you by—”
A low chuckle sounds, and Noah takes a step back as one of the older choir members approaches. “Hey, Al.”
The large-bellied, gray-bearded man laughs and then grabs one of my hands and one of Noah’s hands and sticks them together. “That’sbetter. Don’t get embarrassed, kids. We’ve all been there. And everybody knows,” he clears his throat and sings an improvised melody, “Christmastime is the perfect time for fall-ing in love.”
Every head turns our direction.
“Now, you keep an eye on this rascal, Miss Faith. And focus a wary glance upward now and then. You never know where that pesky mistletoe might show up this time of year!” Al winks at me, and then, with a slap to Noah’s back that almost takes him off his feet, Al moves toward a cluster of people closer to his own generation.
“Uh, sorry about that.” Noah squeezes my hand but doesn’t let go. “You okay?”
