Page 24 of Before the Night Falls
Olivia shook her head as she scrolled through the heavily elaborated story. She and Tyson had met while filming and hit it off. The two had an opposites-attract romance going on. Those who’d seen the couple around together said they were trying to keep the romance under wraps until the story finished filming.
“You learn something new every day,” she murmured. “It’s funny how they know things about us we don’t even know.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
Olivia studied the picture another minute before glancing back at Tyson. She was glad he didn’t seem bothered. Some people might let things like this make them uncomfortable. Tyson seemed to take it in stride.
She slid the laptop back to Tyson. “Apparently, my dating life is so interesting that even I need to read about it in a digital magazine to find out who I’m seeing.”
He chuckled. “Love your humor, Olivia.”
“I’m glad someone does.”
“I’m sure a lot of people do.” He paused. “Do you need a ride to church?”
“Sure, but we might be setting ourselves up for more town gossip.”
“I can think of worse things.” A surprising calmness permeated his eyes as he stood from his seat and waited for her response.
Olivia could think of worse things too. She’d lived through them.
Before her past could rush back and ruin this moment, she cleared her throat and stood also. “I’d love a ride. Thank you.”
* * *
Olivia and Tyson climbed into Tyson’s F-350 a few minutes later.
He put the truck into Drive and headed toward church. His truck, like the rest of his life, was impeccably clean and organized. The only thing that seemed out of place was a Native American dream catcher hanging from the rearview mirror.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tyson followed her gaze.
“It is.” Olivia studied its intricacies.
Its willow hoop formed a perfect circle with intricate thread webbing stretched across the interior. If Olivia remembered correctly, Native Americans said it was a sacred net designed to trap nightmares while allowing pleasant dreams to slip through the center hole.
Small, colorful beads adorned strategic points in the webbing, and delicate owl feathers dangled from the bottom edge.
“A friend made it for me.” Tyson touched it lightly with his free hand.
“You have a talented friend.”
“She is.”
Olivia stared out the window at the rolling hillside dotted with farms. Red clay occasionally peeked through the greenery. Weathered barns with rusted tin roofs scattered the countryside alongside white-steepled country churches.
In the distance, the silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains emerged as a shadowy blue-gray line on the western horizon, growing more distinct with each mile traveled.
This area really was beautiful.
“So, tell me about your church,” Olivia started.
“It’s called Rising Son Community Church. It’s small and a little rough around the edges, but the people have good hearts.”
Olivia’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. She’d expected a perfect church with perfect people who were as successful as Tyson. Not small and “rough around the edges.”
“What was that look for?” Tyson did a double take at her, his eyes lit with curiosity.
Olivia shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s nothing rough around the edges about you. It struck me as odd that you’d attend a church you described that way.”
