Becky smiled. “It was fascinating. We’re looking at 1 Kings. I’m going to search for fiction set during that time period.”
Corey raised an eyebrow. “Why fiction? You need nonfiction with facts. Fiction is useless for research purposes.”
“I like reading historical fiction. If the author has done their research, then I’m intrigued by their insights into culture and the lives of the people.”
“It’s not a good idea to read fiction,” he said.
Cindy’s eyebrows shot up. She stayed silent, seemingly content to listen.
“Why?” A sinking feeling filled her mind. “It’s Biblical fiction that reflects God’s truth. I like Christian fiction set during the Roman era as well.”
He shook his head. “Fiction is stories. It’s not truth. It could lead you astray.”
Wait a minute. Did Corey think it was wrong to read any fiction? “Do you read fiction?”
He shook his head vigorously. “Never. It’s not good for you.”
“It’s entertainment that reflects Christian values. More wholesome than most TV shows and movies.”
“Becky, I urge you to think more on this. Is it edifying to consume made-up stories?”
“Jesus told stories and parables. He didn’t have a problem with using fiction to illustrate a point.”
“Jesus is different. He’s the way, the truth, and the life. Everything He spoke was truth. Fiction is not truth.”
Oh boy. She was on a losing ticket to nowhere if she continued this conversation. “I have a different perspective.”
Corey nodded. “I’ll be praying for you.”
His sincerity was commendable, but his prayers wouldn’t change her mind. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
“What did you two discuss in class?” Cindy moved them forward in the line and moved their conversation onto neutral ground.
She shuffled forward, her gaze drawn to the lunch menu. “Israel and the kings.”
“Sounds interesting,” Cindy said.
“We also discussed our essay topic,” Corey said.
“Are you doing the same topic?” Cindy asked.
“No. We have very different ideas.” That conversation topic was closed. Becky had no interest in revisiting Corey’s thoughts on Solomon and wisdom.
“I’d like to talk more.” Corey turned to face her. “Would you like to discuss our essays over lunch on Sunday after church? Pick your restaurant. I’m not fussy with food.”
Cindy looked like she’d choked on her words, suppressing a snicker. “Becky is fussy, so…”
“Actually, Corey, thanks for asking but I can’t.”
“We could make it the following Sunday.”
Becky met Cindy’s wide-eyed gaze. The penny dropped, like a piece of metal clanging on concrete flooring. Corey was interested in dating her. Duh. It explained a lot.
“Becky is thinking about changing churches,” Cindy said.
He stepped closer to Becky. “Why? Did something happen? You’ve been a regular since classes started in the fall.”
She swallowed a groan and gallon of courage. He was looking for a wife. A wife who didn’t read fiction. Why couldn’t he see that she wasn’t a suitable candidate?