For days, he thought about the girl and expected her call or visit, but he never got any. As the hours ran into days and day into weeks, he began to get really worried and paranoid. He wished he could get her off his mind or better still, get into her world and share her secret, serenity, pain, and frustration. He also wished he could unravel the reason why she was crying so pathetically the other day at the park. He wanted to know what drives and motivates her. He could remember her determination as she pushed the car out of the road alone. He has an uncanny feeling that she was different from other girls he has known and dated over the years. He knew she is pure, chaste and clean through and through. He could so vividly see the innocence and beauty oozing out from her. In fact, he never knew that such beauty, purity and simplicity existed until he met her. He was still thinking about her when his phone rang. He sighed; annoyed his daydreams have been interrupted. Unenthusiastically, he picked up the phone.
“Yes,” he barked into the mouthpiece.
“Hi Lucas, it’s me, Mira. Remember?” 
His heart did a triple summersault. He could hardly believe his ears. All at once he felt alive and invigorated again. “Mira,” he cried. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been busy, why?”
“Busy? Busy doing what?”
“What sort of question is that? Of course, there is a lot of work to be done. Christ is coming soon, you know? The field is ripe and the laborers are few.”
“I see,” he returned uninterestedly. “So how about lunch this afternoon?”
“Well, that would’ve been okay, but I have a lunch date.”
“Okay, dinner in the evening then?”
“Not a chance. I’ll be in church for choir practice.”
“Okay, how about lunch tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry but I have a seminar to attend tomorrow.” She heard him sigh. She could feel his sudden change of expression across the line. She felt chilled, but not chilled enough to agree to a meal together. She never accepts dinner invitations nor wanted to, but to her astonishment, she found that she wanted to go out with him so much so that she had to force herself to say no.
“Okay,” he insisted. “Then dinner the day after tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry, but we are having a family reunion next tomorrow.”
It can’t be possible. He thought hard. “Then when can I see you again?” he asked exasperatedly, trying not to let his frustration show.
“Why do you want to see me? I mean, why waste time on me? Don’t you think there are more important things to do rather than waste your time running after girls? Don’t you think you should be thinking of exploits to do for God?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “You are not just any girl. You are equally important or don’t you think so? Besides, I know there is time for everything.”
“Well, I’ll be in church by 5 pm this evening for choir practice. You can see me in church if you want, bye.”
“Wait a minute,” he stopped her. “There are many churches around, which of them?”
“The address is in the bible I gave you, bye,” she said and hung up.
He weighed the options carefully. He didn’t particularly fancy the idea of going to church, not that he is a pagan, anyway, but he isn’t just what you may call a fanatic or born again. After considering his chances carefully, he decided to take her up on the offer. If that is what she wants and if that is the only way to get to her, then he’ll do it.
***
He was in the church at exactly 5 pm.
“Hi,” she enthused on seeing him. “Glad you could make it.”
He swallowed her beauty. “Hello, Mira.”
“Choir practice will begin in a few minutes. Will you sit in or do you want to come back in an hour’s time?”
“I’ll rather sit in, any objection?”
“No, not at all. In fact, that would be a privilege.”
“Good,” he said and followed her into the church auditorium. “You know, I was something of a chorister myself when I was much younger.”
“Really?” she raised her brow. “Are you still one now?”
“No, no, no no, that was years ago. It’s gone with the time.”
“You can always revive it, that is, if you really want to,” she looked at the time. “Come this way, we are about to begin.”
When choir practice was over, he took her home and as they cruised along the busy streets, they talked excitedly about this and that and about everything in general. They seem to have a lot in common and share similar interests. As they talked and he got to know more about her, his love and admiration for her increased and he began to wonder what made her cry the other day, so he asked her.
“What?” she fenced. 
“I wanted to know why you were crying the other day.”
“What makes you think I would tell you?”
“Curiosity,” he laughed.
She observed him quietly, and then smiled. “You are impossible, aren’t you?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Well, if you want to know, then I shall tell you.” She closed her eyes as the memories, painful and hurting, came bouncing back. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start anywhere, everywhere. I am prepared to listen,” he encouraged her. “You can start by telling me what happened that evening, for example. Why were you crying?”
“I came to mourn someone.”
“Your boyfriend, I guess?” he teased her.
She shot him a quick look. “Well, yes but not in that sense. Peter and I grew up in the same neighborhood. We attended the same primary and secondary schools together. We were always together, played together and went to school together. In fact, we were as inseparable as a pair of Siamese cats. So it was easy and natural for people to match-make us, including our parents. But to me, there was nothing between us. He was just like a big brother to me. Peter’s father was very, very rich and as we grew up, his father’s wealth got into his head and he became boisterous, proud, arrogant and pompous. He was always seen cruising around in his father’s numerous cars with different girls and refused to take his education seriously. When we got into the university, he became demanding and making claims on me. I also discovered, to my chagrin that he was helplessly in love with me. It was a shocking discovery and I tried to let him know how I feel about him but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was the type who believes money can buy everything, including love, but he was mistaken,” she paused and shot him a look. 
He nodded to show he was following. “Why didn’t you like him? I mean, he had money?”
“He wasn’t just my type of guy.”
“What’s your type of guy?”
“My type of guy?”
“Yes.”
“When I see one, you’ll be the first to know,” she laughed.
He laughed too. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“Well, like I was saying, he told his friends and all who cared to listen that I was his girlfriend. Things got to a point that he started harassing and embarrassing me before my friends. I became really worried and so I told him how I felt but he wouldn’t take that,” she paused again.
He nodded.
“On my 19th birthday, he breezed in uninvited and I snubbed him in the presence of all the guests when he asked me to dance with him. He felt humiliated and zoomed off in his car. He…he never made…made it.”
He could see she was desperately trying to keep her emotions in check. “Wait a minute, what do you mean by he never made it?”
“He died on the spot.”
“Oh, sorry,” he commiserated.
“I couldn’t quit blaming myself,” she said, a tremor in her voice to “It was my fault.”
“No, I don’t think so.” 
“I guess he was confused and his judgment was impaired all because I was cruel to him. He couldn’t see the car coming. He crashed into it. It was my fault.”
“It is so easy to blame yourself for his death, but I don’t think it so.”
“So everyone keeps telling me, but I don’t see it that way.”
“No, I guess, you don’t. You were rather listening to your heart, besides he was being stubborn and forcing himself on you. These things don’t work that way, you know?”
She nodded. He was right; these things don’t work that way. He was also sympathetic and understanding and she wished he could be her man. “You’re right.” 
They drove on in silence until they reached her house. The moment the car pulled up, she jumped out of the car. “Thanks for a great evening.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he returned and engaged the gear, ready to drive away. She was surprised. She had expected him to argue for a goodbye kiss or be invited in, but he didn’t do any of those things. He was evidently a slow worker, as was perhaps, expected of a perfect gentleman.
“Well, see you some other time,” she said and turned to go. But he seemed not to have heard him. He was already pulling out of the sidewalk by the time the words left her mouth. What a man! She thought as she ascended the staircase. What a hunk. He was definitely different from all the men she knew and dated before and she told herself that she likes him.