Read Online Uncross My Heart by Austin, Andrews & Austin - Free Book Online

that their beliefs and writings were hard to unearth, buried in paternalistic chronicling. As a result, women were marginalized to near extinction. Outside the classroom, she engaged in C3 to change modern-day women’s views.
    “So you’re after the Catholics, the Mormons, and then the Baptists. I hope you save us Episcopalians for last.”
    “You do yourselves in by chanting ‘for I am but a lowly worm—’ How demeaning is that?”
    “Don’t throw out the entire Psalter when the poetry is so beautiful.
    ‘For the Lord is good, his mercy is everlasting, and his faithfulness endures from age to age.’” I defended the faith.
    “You’re a romantic.”
    “When we celebrate mass, we imitate all our European ancestors who for centuries stood in drafty, cold stone church buildings and chanted the very same words we say today. I find comfort in that continuity,” I said.
    She smiled as one might at a naïve child. “Because there was no PA system in those old European cathedrals and the only way the priests could keep their attention was to get them to memorize phrases and regurgitate them.”
    Our sparring was wearing on me, and I didn’t find the conversation nearly as exciting as my debates with Vivienne. I made a lame excuse about needing to get to bed early for my upcoming flight. She let me pick up the check. We drove back across the bridge to our hotel and parked some distance from the entrance.
    As we strolled across the parking lot she said, “I’ll tell Jude I finally met Westie. Here’s my number. Call me when you’re in San Francisco.”
    “I enjoyed meeting you,” I said, thinking she was smart and interesting but not nearly as attractive as Vivienne Wilde, and when that thought crossed my mind it startled even me.
    The breeze was balmy and caressed my skin, lulling me into sensual thoughts. Lyra must have sensed my energy shifting away from her because she suddenly stopped and looked me in the eye.
    “Okay, you’re not going to call me, I can see that. You’re all wound up in your shorts trying to figure out who you are, so how about this?
    Give me your cell-phone number.” I rattled it off and she jotted it on the back of one of her own cards. “I’m going to call you the next time I’m in Chicago and take you to dinner.”
    Her directness made me laugh. “Great.”
    “Great,” she echoed, and gave me a quick hug. “By the way, did you read Benny Shanon’s study stating Moses was high on drugs when he got the Ten Commandments and saw the burning bush?” I rolled my eyes in response and she grinned. “Hey, better said by a Jewish theologian than a lesbian scholar—burning bush for me takes on a whole different meaning.” She winked before turning and heading for the lobby.
    I glanced up at the sky to make sure lightning wasn’t about to strike us both.

Chapter Eight
    Midweek, I was teaching The Relevance of Ancient Religious Concepts in Modern Times , a course required for seminary students, and I vied with BlackBerrys hidden beneath desktops for their attention. In fact, I was quite certain that hell for this millennial generation was an eternity without text messaging and Internet access.
    “An Episcopal priest was followed to chapel by a cat,” I said, and the students smiled, accustomed to my irreverent style. “Every Sunday for twenty years the cat walked down the aisle, hopped onto the front pew, and curled up and awaited the sermon. When the priest died, his fellow clergy allowed the cat to continue to attend mass. They’d process down the aisle each Sunday, the cat walking behind them.
    “The cat grew arthritic so the priests let him walk more slowly down the aisle and then placed him on a pillow in the pew. Then the cat became so elderly that the priests had to carry the feline down the aisle on the pillow and place him in the pew. One day the cat died. The clergy continued to carry the pillow down the aisle each Sunday in his honor. One hundred years later, a