A Thousand Miles

Part 23

Subdued was the best way to describe his behavior these past few days. JoLynn cast a furtive glance toward the passenger seat, hoping to see Shane's trademark grin come effortlessly instead of looking so forced. His brows were drawn together, and his jaw set sternly as he stared out the windshield, past the dark silhouettes of trees that passed along the dusky horizon.

    They'd traversed the whole Peach and Melon Festival without one single teasing remark. Not one. Even at the beauty pageant. And there had been plenty of opportunities—times when she, Mel and Curtis would stare expectantly, waiting for a punch line that never came. Clearly his mind was somewhere else. It had been since Monday, when he'd taken her to meet his father. And now, they were more than halfway home from DeLeon, and he hadn't said a word yet.

    Mel had tucked her earbuds in place an hour ago and leaned back with her eyes closed, in her own little world. And Curtis' snore would drown out any quiet conversation happening in the front seat, anyway. So she could probably ask him what was wrong. But something held her back. Something besides the lack of privacy.

    She sighed softly, rolled her neck and shoulders, and adjusted her hands on the wheel. Had she said or done something wrong at the nursing home?  Had she offended his father in some way? She replayed their visit, trying to remember a moment, some sign she'd missed that she'd done something wrong. But nothing came to mind.

    Shane had not appreciated the scripture reading. He'd made that very clear. Later that evening he admitted feelings of hostility toward God. But he said he'd work it out, and he certainly hadn't seemed to hold it against her then. A smile touched her lips at the memory of how he'd kissed her, and held her, and told her he loved her.

    No. It wasn't anything that she did or said at the nursing home. Something had happened since then. And whatever it was troubled him.

    Maybe he was working out his feelings toward God. She cast another glance at him. He'd turned to stare out the window beside him, deep in thought. But she couldn't offer any help or advice in that regard. Her faith came from her grandmother, and the summers they'd spent together in Fredericksburg. Her grandmother had taught her to see God's hand at work everywhere—in the hills, and the streams, in the people all around her, and most especially, in her heart. God was everywhere, always present and moving within the events that shaped their lives. And JoLynn believed that.

    Those weeks each year fostered true and lasting growth. But that growth had been stunted each time she'd gone home. She'd tried so hard to continue the habits of prayer and scripture reading that her grandma placed such high value on. But it had been too difficult for a kid to do alone, with no support. Not that her parents had been completely unsupportive. They freely admitted that her faith was a good thing, and they were proud of her for it. But church and God...those weren't things they valued. That environment made it easy to slip into complacency.

    But she wasn't a kid anymore. JoLynn took a deep, convicted breath and pushed it out slowly. And her spiritual stagnation was nobody's fault but hers.

    "A penny for your thoughts."

    She glanced at Shane when he spoke to find him studying her with a strained smile. "You first."

    He took a very deep breath and let it out. Then he reached for her hand, interlaced his fingers with hers, and brought it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.  He held it there against his lips for a long moment, his breath stirring against her skin, his touch causing her to forget such thoughts for now.

    "You want me to drive for awhile?" he asked.

    She shook her head. "I'm OK."

    Shane nodded and turned her hand loose, then resumed staring out the window.

    Something troubled him. But she'd wait until he was ready to talk about it.