“Miss? Hello, Miss? Miss, wake up…” The soft, insistent voice stirred Sylvie’s dreams and brought her to consciousness.

“Wha..?” Muzzily, she looked up to see a kind-faced old gentleman in a rusty black suit-jacket smiling down at her. The setting sun shone in her eyes. She had slept the day away! She sat up with a jerk, her heart thudding, remembering that she was lost and alone in hostile territory.

“What?” she demanded defensively. “Aren’t I supposed to be here?”

“Oh no, it isn’t that,” he reassured her. His voice was soft and gentle, hardly there at all. There was something rather wispy about him. He didn’t seem dangerous, so she let down her guard a little.

“Then what do you want?”

“It’s only that I wondered if you would share a small supper with me,” he smiled. “You look like you might be hungry, and I am in need of company. I would be only too pleased to buy.”

Sylvie was hungry. In fact, she was famished. “Um, I guess that would be okay,” she mumbled, wondering what the catch would turn out to be. Clutching her backpack, she allowed the old man to assist her to her feet.

“This way, my dear,” he gestured. She walked beside him down the street, feeling numb and confused. At least I’ll eat, she thought. And I bet I could take him… he doesn’t look very strong. He certainly didn’t look like a pimp, a rapist or a kidnapper. She began to relax a little more.

He ushered her into a small neighbourhood diner that seemed relatively clean and not too dark. The waitress seemed to know him; they exchanged friendly hellos while she brought their menus. They examined the specials in silence, and then ordered, a chicken burger with fries for Sylvie and soup and salad for the old gentleman. He said, “Introductions might be in order. My name is Father James. And you are…?”

Uh-oh… he’s a preacher, she thought. Well, I guess it’s a small price to pay for a meal. She was shocked by her own cynicism. She’d only been in the city a couple of days and she was turning into a real hard nut. Trying to be nicer, she said, “I’m Sylvie.”

“And what brings you to our fair city, Sylvie?” Father James asked.

“How do you know I’m not from here?”

“Please, dear, let us be straight with each other.” He chuckled pleasantly. “You’re clearly a country girl who’s run away from home and is out of her depth in the big city. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I do prefer to be direct. Am I right?” He gave her a swift, conspiratorial grin that disarmed her.

“Well, okay. Maybe I’m not from here. But really, I just have to find my brother Carl. He has a place for me to stay. The problem is, I’ve lost his phone number and he’s unlisted,” she said, inspired. Maybe the old guy would have some ideas to help her find Carl.

“Does the rest of your family know where you are?” he asked.

“I don’t have any other family. Carl’s all I’ve got.” Her eyes brimmed with real tears. There! she thought. That ought to convince him. Again, she was shocked. What was she becoming?

“And does Carl know you are here?”

“He didn’t exactly know when, but he knows I’m coming, all right.” He did, she was sure of it. He must know she would eventually come looking for him. So it wasn’t exactly a lie. None of it was a lie.

“I truly don’t mean to pry, my dear Sylvie. But I am very much interested in people. Please, tell me about yourself, anything you feel comfortable sharing.” His pleasantly expectant expression drew her to want to talk to him. The trouble was, she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t involve outright falsehoods. She quailed at the thought of lying to his face.

“Um, there’s not much to tell,” she said after a moment. “I’m pretty ordinary, I guess. Just a regular girl from a small town.”

“Well, what kinds of things interest you?”

“Oh… okay, I like to listen to music, and I like to draw,” she told him. With a pang, she wished she had her drawing pad and pencil with her. She would like to draw his face, with its radiating pattern of lines that stretched out from his sunken little twinkly blue eyes like sun rays, his wispy white flyaway hair like dandelion fluff. He had an interesting face, she thought.

“I forgot my drawing pad at home, though,” she confessed. “I wish I had it right now. I would draw you.” She felt embarrassed by the childish candour of her words, but he beamed appreciatively. After a moment of silence in which he appeared to be waiting for her to continue, she said, “Um, what about you? What do you do? I suppose you’re like a preacher or something, right?”

“Something like that,” he laughed.

Just then, their meals were served, and what with chewing and swallowing there wasn’t time for conversation for a while.

Beyond Hope 4 

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 2nd, 2006 at 3:26 pm and is filed under general. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.