Saturday's Child by Clare Revell

as she knew she’d been caught staring. Then they burned hotter as she tried not to squirm under his eagle eye. Then the memories kicked in and she did squirm. Looks like that only led to one thing.
    He wiped his forearm over his face. “Penny for them.”
    “I was wondering if you were cold.” OK, that sounded rubbish even to her.
    His eyes twinkled. “Nope.” He shifted the last of the logs and grabbed his shirt. “We’re done. For tonight at least. I’ll show you where the bathroom is, and you can have the first shower.”
    “Thank you. I have a change of clothes in my car. At least the storm didn’t take that.”
    “Or the tractors. In fact we were luck—fortunate.” He corrected himself, looking at her. “Earlier today, I was wondering if God was still there. Even asked Him for a sign to prove He was. Although I think a tornado is a tad excessive.”
    “Well,” she said pulling her bag from the boot of her car. “They do say a tornado is the finger of God. The F5’s at any rate. But I could have told you that God is still there.”
    He slid his shirt on, covering the now visible goose bumps on his arms. “It just doesn’t seem like it.”
    She tilted her head. “He is and still loves you. It’s a bit like Da, I guess. I can’t see him, because he’s miles away in Wales, but I know he’s there. I can pick up the phone and speak to him any time I like.”
    “Can’t exactly ring heaven now, can we?”
    “Sure we can. It’s called prayer.” She started singing. “ Telephone to glory, oh, what joy divine! I can feel the current moving on the line, built by God the Father for His loved and own, we may talk to Jesus through this royal telephone .”
    “Wow. I haven’t heard that in years. We used to sing it in Sunday School.”
    “Dadcu Gwyther taught me. He was a lay preacher.”
    “What’s a Dad key?”
    “It’s Welsh for Grandad. It’s slightly different in each part of Wales, but more or less the same. Mamgu, or Grandma, never knew quite how many people to expect for Sunday lunch.”
    “That’s not your Dad’s dad, I assume.”
    She shook her head. “No. Dadcu Bryn was a farmer like Da.”
    “Do you speak Welsh?”
    “Fluently. Which is just as well, as Welsh is the language of heaven.”
    Aaron laughed as they headed to the farmhouse. “But I don’t speak Welsh. Actually, since not many of us do, we’re all stuffed.”
    Her laugh blended with his. “I honestly believe when we get to heaven, it won’t matter. We’ll speak in our language, someone will reply in theirs, yet we’ll all understand one another.” She grinned. “Take Sunday. We sang ‘ the splendor of the King’ in five different languages at once. Once for each verse. It was amazing.”
    “How did you all manage that?”
    “It was up on the screen spelled out phonetically so it was easy. We sang in Mandarin, Russian, French, Spanish, and English. Though I guess technically it was six, because there were a couple of people at the front using sign language all the way through, as well.”
    “Wow. I would have loved to have heard that.”
    “It was incredible. And because we knew the song, we knew what we were singing. See, praising God is the same no matter what language you do it in. Maybe you should come on Sunday. We won’t sing that one again, but we might sing something else you know.”
    “I’ll think about it.” He opened the door to the farm house. “After you.”
    “Thank you.” She took a deep breath and went inside, expecting the same sense of dread and evil as came over her the previous day. But this time there was nothing. A fire blazed in the hearth and the scent of chicken and jacket potatoes filled the air.
    Tanis looked up from the table and smiled. The smile never reached her eyes. “Dinner won’t be long.”
    Aaron nodded. “Thank you. We’ll go and shower and be back down in a few.”
    “Together? I know there is a drought on, but even so…” The smirk on Tanis’s face