I grinned wide instead of laughing out loud because I couldn’t even imagine it. I put my arm across his back like we were only friends sharing a good joke.
“That ain’t never gonna happen.”
Oscar’s lip twitched, as if he were about to laugh, too, but wanted to be stern and serious.
“It might!”
“Well, I’ll take my damn chances,” I said, removing my arm and giving way to a small laugh. “Or maybe, we’ll be so frustrated by everything the damn preacher says, we’ll just go on home and show all the ways that we honor each other and celebrate the goodness of God in our own way.”
He did smile then and shook his head.
“Fine. I suppose that’s more likely.”
“I suppose it is. Mayhap we’ll have to celebrate God’s goodness even more enthusiastically to make up for what some people are sayin’ about Him…or Her.”
Oscar’s face screwed up. “You think God’s a woman, Jimmy?”
“Maybe? Why couldn’t God be a woman? Or maybe God’s not a man or a woman, but just a force, like gravity, that holds us all together, e’en though when men twist words up like they do, it mostly tears us apart.”
“Hmm-m. You got some strange ideas, Jimmy Downing.”
“Me? As I recall, you’re the one introducedmeto all the strange ideas.”
“Well, maybe that’s true.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“Now you just be quiet and buy me some nice clothes.”
“Yes, sir.”
We smiled, our eyes sparkling with good humor as we walked along beside the Skeena River to the haberdasher’s.
Chapter Twenty-One
Being Sociable
“Jimmy, I can’t tie this goddamned cravat!” Oscar growled as we got ready to head out with Clarence and Irene to the church social.
We’d spent a good bit of coin at the haberdashers, getting sorted out with some fine clothes and new, shiny, city boots to wear. I reckon Mr. Trilby who owned the place thought we were highly amusing fellas, the way we argued and harangued each other while we looked for some decent threads. We tried for some honest-to-goodness masculine goodwill disguised as crass jibes, the way regular men might act who were forced to spend all their time together. I supposed we were on our way to being known as eccentric at the very least, which was better than the truth, to be sure.
“Here… I’ll help you,” I said. I’d managed to get myself kitted out with only a bit of difficulty. The shop keeper had shown me how to tie the cravat, and I’d practiced some in the meantime.
Oscar turned his gaze on me and whistled. “Ho-ly. You look… You look so”—his gaze moved from the top of my head to the toes of my new boots, o’er everything in between. He swallowed—“temptin’.”
I blushed and moved behind him, even though he seemed to want to keep looking at me.
“Here… ’Tis easier this way,” I said, taking hold of the ends of his cravat from behind and tying it as I had my own. Irene had given us a small square mirror with a wood frame to hang in our bedroom above the wash basin. We stood before it now as I tucked the ends of the burgundy cravat into Oscar’s fine embroidered waistcoat. T’was gray silk with gold thread in intricate designs, not unlike those on his new pocketwatch.
“I’mtemptin’? I don’t rightly know how I’m gonna keep my hands offyoutonight. Honest to God.”
T’was truly gonna be an effort not to reach out and touch him, but t’was one I would have to make.
I finished with his cravat and slid my hands up o’er the embroidered front of the snug vest. “Hmm, this looks mighty fine on you, Mr. Yates. You’ll drive the young women wild.”
Oscar grinned at himself in the mirror as our gazes met in the reflection. “You reckon?”
“Oh, I know it.”
