Creighton's Hideaway Read Free Page A

wanted to help, but she was determined to do for myself.
    “Enjoy.” Creighton sprawled in the corner of the sofa and stared through the windows into the black night. He appeared to study her reflection in the glass.
    She swallowed three bites, attempting to ease her discomfort. “Why didn’t I hear you drive up? I sure jumped when you knocked.”
    “I didn’t think about that. Next time I’ll call out. I often take walks at dusk. I enjoy the coolness after the heat of the day.”
    “It may be cooler. But it sure is dark. And quiet.” She searched into the night beyond the glass for some kind of reassurance.
    “After street noise, you bet.” He chuckled. “It may be less noisy than traffic, but the night is far from quiet.”
    She finished her sandwich and stood to clear the table. “I must have been hungry. That was delicious.”
    “Can that wait a minute?” Creighton motioned towards the opposite end of the sofa. “Have a seat. It’s not as dark out there as you might think.”
    He got up and turned on a light above the kitchen sink.
    Shana tracked his efficient movements, surprised at her appreciation of the way he glided across the room to hit the switch that shut off the ceiling lights.
    Coming around to sit again, Creighton pointed. “See. Look at the stars.”
    The muted light behind them showed a small reflection in the glass. She let her eyes adjust and was soon able to discern deeper shadows around the creek and the hills silhouetted against the horizon. The clear inky blackness glittered with thousands of lights.
    “All I have to do is look at that sky to recognize how small man really is. And what an awesome God we have,” Creighton’s velvety voice flowed into the dim room.
    Shana snorted. The testimonies of people in recovery and the home lives of her young clients hardened her response to Creighton’s words. “If He’s so awesome, how come such bad things happen to innocent people, young people who can’t fend for themselves?”
    “God’s the one to answer that, Shana, not me.” Creighton rested his arm across the back of the sofa. “Feel like talking about your jaded outlook on mankind?”
    She jumped to her feet, holding her middle, fighting the threat of tears. She remained stiff when Creighton cupped her shoulder in his warm, large hand. Shrugging off his touch was pure reaction. She was all worked up. Anxious over an unknown she couldn’t put her finger on. She vented. “You should know I don’t want to be here.”
    “Guess I’ll take my cake pan, then, and let you do whatever you need to do.”
    Anger thrust and threatened to pulse through her pores. She kept her back turned to Creighton. After he had gone, Shana charged around the room, wondering why a stranger would attempt to comfort her. She roamed and stood at the windows in turn, her mind all a jumble. She spoke into the quiet, “How in the world can I concentrate if I’m going to think about how kind Creighton is to me?”
    She didn’t like being told what to do, or how to think. First by her boss, now Creighton pushed his religion on her. To his credit, his manner intrigued her. But not his talk of God.
    Her father had passed on details of his students’ ideas on religion. Some claimed all people needed for survival was a Savior. Is Jesus real? Is He really the one and only Savior?
    She yawned and welcomed the need to call it a night. She tugged on her pajamas in the small bath, readied for bed by lining up her bottles of skin care, and found solace in the familiar routine. She padded across the braided rug, onto the cooler wood of the floor, and surrendered to the ink of night.
     
    ****
     
    Creighton swung his arms wide, taking an extra-long walk, wishing he had grabbed a jacket before he left for the cabin where Shana now stayed. “Show me how to help her, Lord. She needs a friend and I guess I’m it for now.”
    She had felt small next to his side, brief as the contact was. The memory of Shana’s