Miss Match (11 page)

"Laurie."

"Do you have any chocolate?"

Hannah rolls her eyes. "Is that your lifelong motto?" She reaches down and pulls open the bottom drawer of her desk. Digs way in the
back. Her hand reappears with a stack of Milky Ways.

"Oh bless you, bless you, bless you."

"Don't tell Brandon I have them. He'll probably freak about mice."

Two of the candy bars disappear in two point eight seconds flat. A
new world record, I imagine.

"Okay. Now. Call him," Hannah says, pushing the phone back
toward me.

I dial again. My pulse rockets so fast I know I soon will pass out.

Good grief. What is the matter with me?

Three rings pass in an interminable amount of time. Fourth ring.

"Hey."

I open my mouth to blurt out my speech.

"You've reached Stephen Weatherby. Leave a message. I'll call
you back."

BEEEP!

I hold the phone for several moments before slamming it down in
confusion and shock. Hannah rolls her eyes.

"Wimp," she accuses me.

I bite my tongue. I haven't been called that since the fourth grade
when I wouldn't play dodgeball for fear of breaking my glasses. Well, I
played. I broke my glasses. I sliced a nicely sized cut across my eyebrow
and ended up with ten stitches and a bandage the size of Alabama covering my face. Dad nearly had a heart attack.

The days before contacts.

Ruby walks in. "Hey, girls. Want to join me for lunch today?"

"Yes," I say immediately, thankful for the interruption.

"Sure. You can help me talk some sense into Laurie," Hannah says.

"I've tried that before. It didn't work." Ruby grins, tugs on her hair
again, and disappears into Studio Three.

The bell over the door jangles and Dr. America walks in. Again.
He's wearing jeans and a semi-nice blazer, looking very collegiate. His
blond hair is combed just-so, but when he pulls his shades off, his eyes
are solemn.

Hannah smiles sweetly first at Stephen and then at me. "Don't worry,
Laurie, the Jackmans won't be around for another twenty minutes."

The corners of Stephen's mouth lift in a half smile, but his eyes don't
lose the seriousness.

"Could we talk?" he asks.

Uh-oh. I have a foreboding feeling in my little toe about this
conversation.

Once again, I follow him outside.

"What's up?" I ask, trying to be nonchalant.

"Uh, it's about, uh, tonight," Stephen stutters. "I've been doing some
thinking and well ... you see, I'm leaving for California soon for a twoyear fellowship that very possibly can turn into a long-term job."

"Okay," I say slowly.

"And I like you. A lot. But I don't think it's fair to either of us
to start, um, dating right now." His voice drops to a near whisper.
"Understand?"

I smile. My chest eases.

"I've been trying to call you," I say, deciding honesty is the best
policy. "For the same conclusion, but different reasons."

His forehead creases. "I don't remember the phone ringing."

"I hung up a few times before it could ring."

He smiles. "Why?"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings. It was really sweet of you to ask
me out." I turn on my full-wattage grin. "Can we stay friends?"

I have always sworn I will never use that line, but it slips from my
mouth like a smallmouth bass from a fishing basket.

Great. Our fishing trip is five weeks away, and I'm already using
fishing analogies.

"I'd like that," Stephen answers. He grins in relief, gives me a hug,
and walks to his car. "See you tomorrow night at Bible study."

I go inside.

Hannah taps her pen on the desk impatiently. "So?"

"So we aren't going out. Stephen doesn't want to have a relationship
when he's leaving in a little while."

She is incredulous. "You are the luckiest person alive."

I'm not sure how to respond to that. "Thank you."

I wake up on Wednesday without the help of my alarm. I love the
days I have off from work.

I pull on a pair of sweats and go downstairs. Dad has a map of
California spread out in front of him and is tracing a path with a
highlighter.

"Morning, Hon. Cinnamon rolls will be done in a few minutes."

I love my dad.

I give him a hug. "Thanks."

Today is going to be a lovey-dovey day, I can tell. I've had lovable
feelings about two separate things now.

"What's on your plate today?" Dad caps the marker.

"I'm going to go see Laney."

He nods approvingly. "Good."

"What about you?"

"Figured I'd check out the sportsman stores in town." Dad says it
offhandedly, but I see his excitement.

I grin. "When you find one you like, let me know. I'll go with
you next time."

"Deal."

I get to Laney's about ten.

Dorie answers the door. She's five and my only niece. I spoil her like
crazy, and she provides childlike wisdom to my chaotic life.

"Auntie Lauren!" She flings herself into my arms.

I catch her before she falls. "Whoa there, girl. Rein it in." I chuck
her cheek. Dorie is the cutest girl in the world. Brown wispy hair. Brown
eyes. Chubby cheeks. She wants to work at a car wash when she grows up
and live on a cherry tree farm.

She's talented, beautiful, and imaginative.

I might be a tad bit biased though.

Jess and Jack, twins at age three, barrel around the corner and each
take one of my legs. "Lauren! Lauren! Lauren!"

With Dorie in my arms and a kid wrapped around each leg, it takes
me a good five minutes to get to the kitchen. Laney is at the kitchen table,
peacefully drinking a cup of coffee.

My sister amazes me. She gets married at twenty, has Dorie a year
later, handles twin infants and a toddler, and still manages to be happy
and cheerful.

I want to be like Laney when I grow up.

"Mom, Mom, look who's here!" Jess screams.

"Gosh, I wonder." Laney looks up with a grin. "You guys greet
Lauren so quietly."

"Subtlety is their dominion." I untangle the boys and set Dorie
down.

"Hey!" Jack yells. "We got new shoes!"

"Let's show her!"

The kids run from the room. The term run is used loosely. Chubby
legs, socks on a wood floor, and no coordination doesn't make for
fast runners.

Laney grins. "There's more coffee in the pot, if you want some."

"It had better be decaf. How are you feeling?" I pull a mug from
the cabinet.

"Good. Really good. Much better than with the boys. And of course
it's decaf."

Laney is pregnant.

I am ecstatic.

"Can I tell Dad?" I pour the coffee and inhale. Vanilla. Laney has
good taste.

"Not yet. I'll tell him when we're there for lunch next Saturday.
Speaking of which, what can I bring?"

"Nothing. I'm picking up barbecue. And paper plates. No dishes.
Less work." I sit opposite her.

"Lexi's coming, right?"

"That's the plan."

Laney smiles. "I'm glad they went to England."

If I ever get married, I want to marry a British guy. Dark curly hair.
Dark eyes. Tall, stately, refined. But with a sense of humor. Mr. Darcy,
in other words.

I nod. "Me too. Lex promised to check out the guys for me."

"I'm sure Nate will appreciate that."

"You're five weeks along, right?"

"Yeah."

"This one should be a girl."

Laney's eyes sparkle. "I'll do my best." She pats my hand. "Though really, Sweetie, I have absolutely no say in it."

"No. Really?"

She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, you'll have to pray harder than Adam.
He wants it to be another boy so he can start his own baseball team."

I laugh. "Sounds like your husband. It's taking the kids awhile to
put shoes on, isn't it?"

Laney smirks into her coffee cup. "Two of them still aren't sure
how to do that, Lauren."

"You're a cruel mom."

"Thanks. So what have you been up to lately?"

"I'm teaching middle school girls."

She nearly gags on the coffee. "What?"

"Not school subjects. We're going through Romans. At church."

"Oh." She draws the word out. "Got it. So how's it going? I love
that book, by the way. Romans is my favorite."

I lean my elbows on the table and study my oldest sister. Laney and
I have always been this way. I can tell her anything, and I know it will
never get repeated, not even to Lexi.

I think about the brief skimming I've done of the curriculum. "Do
you think God is sovereign?" I ask.

"Yes." She says it purposefully, without even a doubt.

"Why?"

She doesn't answer me for a second, just looks. Finally she smiles.
"Read Ephesians 1," she says.

Clumping sounds come from the hallway then, and I turn to see
Dorie in ballerina shoes and Jack and Jess in brown hiking boots on
the wrong feet.

They all three grin at me, and a warm, sickly sweet feeling blooms
in my chest until I think I will cry.

I laugh instead. Give them all a hug. Tell them how great they
look.

Jess kisses my cheek as I leave, a good sloppy wet one still there
when he pulls away.

I like it so much I don't wipe it off.

The night is cold and chilly, and judging by the dark, ominous clouds
billowing over the horizon like a field of evil mushrooms, I know we are
in for quite a snowstorm.

I follow the bubbly written directions to Hannah's apartment. She
lives a good fifteen minutes out of my way, but I figure, what the heck?
I can be nice.

I pull into the parking space beside her Taurus. Undo my seat belt.
Almost turn the car off, but she comes pattering down the metal steps
and opens the passenger door. A blast of cold air follows. "Hi!" She grins,
breathless, her cheeks turning pink from the cold, her long blonde hair
swishing out from behind her in a ponytail.

To have that kind of easy charm ...

I turn my mind from my envious thoughts. "Hey, Hannah."

"How was your day off?"

"Good. Fun. I went to my sister's. How was your day on?"

She closes the car door and buckles her seat belt. "Fine." She pulls
her brightly printed scarf a few inches looser and grips her new Bible I
helped her pick out.

"Did you hear about Peter and Nancy?" Hannah says as I back out.

"No." Gee, for being on the job a week, she's sure immersed herself
quickly in Brandon and my little circle of friends.

"They're engaged! Isn't that wonderful? They came in for pictures at
two. They are so cute together! They said they'd be here tonight."

Peter and Nancy. One more couple in the singles' class. I sigh. They
are two of those people you know will end up together one day. It should
not bother me so much.

But it does. My mood turns in the general direction of Central
America.

Couples, couples, couples.

I am only twenty-three years old. Yet, if this is the Magical Winter of
Couplehood, I have missed the horse-drawn carriage.

Is it just me, or is everyone getting married?

"Laurie?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Yes. I am."

Hannah turns in her seat and stares at me with those all-seeing
blue eyes.

I throw one hand up, as the other clutches the steering wheel. "Fine.
Fine, fine, fine. I am not - "

"Fine?"

"Yeah." I rub my forehead. "I'm just tired, I think. This fishing trip
will be a good break. One month of Trout, Trees, and Tranquility. No
commitments, no schedules. Just plain relaxation." The trip sounds better
and better.

Hannah smiles at me.

"And best of all, no more engagement announcements!" I laugh in
pure, unadulterated joy.

Hannah shakes her head. "Good grief, Laurie. You're only twenty three. And a confirmed bachelorette. Or have you changed your mind?"
There is a distinct matchmaker-like tone to her voice.

That position is filled, thank you!

"I have not changed my mind." I'm firm and matter-of-fact. My
mood becomes one of resignation and strength. I may be a confirmed
bachelorette, but who is to say I can't be a Cute, Charming, and ... what's
another C word? Coquettish confirmed bachelorette?