Neighbors And Favors

by Kate Davis

  “It’s fine,” I say to no one in particular and lift my dog in my arms, grimacing at the repulsive smell wafting from her snack. “I’ll be in my room, busying myself with me being the only normal human being inside this house.”

  “You do that.” Amanda nods, absent-minded. “I’ll join you later.”

  I doubt she heard a word I said.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A few weeks later

  * * *

  Shane’s trial has just come to a verdict. While it’s not exactly news in the States, I’ve been following as much of it as I could find on the internet. Apparently, the British don’t air their dirty laundry in the open, unless footballers are involved, and so all I got were a few morsels of information here and there.

  During our conversation, the editor in London and I clicked right away. Maybe it was the fact that her name’s Samantha, too, or maybe it was because she didn’t understand the hype about billionaires either. Whatever it was, last week we put the finishing touches to the manuscript and she’s invited me over to London to put a face to the name. Never mind the fact that I know exactly what she looks like given that her face is plastered all over Google because she’s at least as famous as Madeleine Albright. I jumped at the opportunity and as usual made the mistake of telling my parents a day before my departure. I should have only told them after setting foot on British soil because, apparently Mom knows someone from the church who knows someone who knows someone and that was enough to get them a seat on the same flight.

  “Isn’t it lovely? We’re going to visit all our relatives.” Mom kept beaming through the entire three-day flight. Fine! It was only ten hours, but I swear sitting between those two and their constant going back and forth across my seat felt like an eternity. While watching the obligatory movie, Dad kept offering to share his headphones with Mom. She in turn took him up on his offer, and with the seats already too tight, it felt as though she was sitting on my lap.

  “Mom, why don’t you take my seat?” I asked in the most polite tone I could muster given that, at some point, my legs had turned numb from her leaning over me and I was slowly starting to panic that the feeling would never return.

  “There’s no need, darling.”

  I groaned inwardly. “Would you mind if we switched? I prefer an aisle seat, anyway.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, happy that it wasn’t a lie. The perks of an aisle seat is that you get at least one armrest you don’t have to fight for.

  “Well, if that’s what you want. But don’t inconvenience yourself on our behalf,” Mom said.

  “I wouldn’t,” I mumbled to myself and prayed that the movie would be over soon.

  Then came the food, and the tasting to and fro, and the unnerving comments that came with it, even though they were eating the same thing.

  “Trish, try the asparagus. Doesn’t it taste like plastic bags?” Dad said.

  To that Mom replied, “You’re right. Taste mine. It reminds me of nail fungus. The really persistent kind.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder how on earth my mother would know what nail fungus tastes like. Then again, I didn’t really want to know. The whole thing went on and on for hours. At some point, I reached a whole new level of desperation and was ready to fake a medical emergency just to get the pilot to make an emergency landing.

  The only thing that made the whole ordeal bearable was prayer. What can I say? I’ve found that I’m loving it.

  I mean, there’s a living God who’s ready to listen to your ramblings. Someone who won’t judge you for casting your cares on him. Who loves you for who you are. Who sent His Son so you could have salvation and eternal life, as long as you believe in Jesus and put your trust in Him.

  How could anyone not want that?

  And so I’ve started to pray every day, growing closer to the Lord, experiencing a joy I have never experienced before, finding peace in the storm. While there still are times when I worry, I have learned to pass on the burden and instead focus on how much I’m loved and guided. I’ve come to find peace in reading God’s word, focusing on His promises, and letting true joy fill my heart.

  Epilogue

  Three days into our vacation during which I’ve managed to avoid my parents for all of five minutes, there’s a knock at the hotel door.

  “Come in,” I call out, half expecting them to be barging in, bursting with excitement at the possibility of having spied the Queen of England out of their window overlooking St. James’s park.

  At the heavy footsteps I look up and my breath catches in my throat.

  “You didn’t expect me,” Shane says with that grin of his that’s all deep-set dimples.

  “What made you draw that conclusion?” I point down at myself. “The fact that I’m still wearing my PJs or my unmade hair or the red nose I’ve had since stepping off the plane?”

  I wish someone had told me he’d be turning up like this. I would have made an effort, wear nicer clothes, put on some makeup. But apparently he has a tendency to knock on my door at the wrong time, which means he never gets to see me in a state that isn’t preceded by the word “frumpy”.

  “You look fine.” He inches closer and draws me in a tight hug that feels both familiar and disconcerting.

  I wish he’d say something like “sophisticated” for a change, but I’ve given up on any hope he’ll ever come to associate that word with me.

  I’m probably just friends material anyway.

  “What are you doing here and how did you find me?” I ask as soon as he’s released me.

  Shane plops down on my bed and tucks a cushion beneath his head. His presence seems to take up the entire space, sucking in the very oxygen from the air.

  “Your mom told me you’d be here so I thought I’d come see you.”

  “Hm.” I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him, and smooth a hand over my hair as though that could make any difference.

  “I thought I’d come rescue you from them,” he says. There’s something in his tone that makes me look up. I take in his mysterious expression and try to read it. But as usual, I fail. Maybe he’s good at keeping his thoughts to himself, or maybe I’m bad at reading people. Particularly people like him. People I like a little too much. People I wish would share their thoughts with me so I’d know a little more about them.

  Go for it! Seal the deal! Amanda’s words echo in my mind.

  I smile. “Sounds good. What’s the plan?”

  “The trial’s over. I’m officially out of harm’s way.” He shrugs as though it’s not a big deal but his huge smile speaks volumes. He’s relieved that it’s over. That he can finally get back to his old life.

  “So I’ve heard.” I clear my throat. “I’m happy it’s over for you. What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m glad you’re asking. I thought I’d go on a trip.” He winks. “I was hoping you might want to tag along.”

  “On a trip? To where?”

  “Your mom’s invited me to Exeter, which I couldn’t decline. We could stay for a day or two and then drive up to Norfolk. I could show you where I live. You’ll like it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a trip for you.” I don’t know why I say that when all I want to tell him is that yes, I want to know where he lives. I want to meet his family and friends and get to know him and learn everything there is to know about him. I want to—

  Mom claps her hands with excitement. “That’s brilliant. Your dad and I have been talking about moving to England for a while now, but we didn’t want to leave you behind. Norfolk is only a stone’s throw away, darling. When you two get married we’ll be able to visit all the time.”

  She’s standing in the doorway, closely tailed by Dad who’s nodding his head with excitement.

  I stare at her, aghast. I can’t believe it! She just said that word.

  Marriage.

  The one word that your date or crush should never hear from your parents because it w
ill send them running for the hills.

  Now Shane will find an excuse to leave, and I will never see him again.

  “You’re so funny sometimes,” I say to Mom, laughing awkwardly, my flaming cheeks probably painting the picture. “You left the door open,” I hiss at Shane, eager to distract him. “You should have known better. They’re everywhere.”

  “What are you talking about? They’re great.” Shane shoots me a confused look and I roll my eyes. He obviously doesn’t agree with me, but he doesn’t know them the way I do.

  “Mom, Norfolk is some three hundred miles away from Exeter, through unpaved paths and mountainous terrain, think pack your trekking gear and some tow rope in case the M5 is closed for the day. To visit ‘all the time’ you’ll probably have to leave on Monday to arrive by Friday, particularly if you’re planning on driving through London.”

  Obviously, I’m exaggerating and in reality it’s not that bad but you get my drift.

  Shane winks at me. “That would be lovely, Trish. We’d love to have you over as often as you want. You’ll always be welcome.”

  I don’t know what’s with this guy and his politeness. It must be fake because no person ever would want the ex-neighbor’s parents popping over “all the time”. Then again, this is Shane—the guy who risked his life to expose his colleagues—people who’d use the poor for their own selfish gain.

  Why would he even say she’s always welcome?

  That’s when my mother’s words dawn on me.

  When you two get married…

  It implies that she thinks Shane and I already have something going.

  I want to feel mortified, to apologize to him for Mom’s irrational fantasies, but something about his expression stops me. The way he looks at me, he doesn’t seem mortified. He doesn’t seem eager to ensure we’re all on the same page, that he and I will never be more than just friends.

  Either he missed that part or he thinks there could be more than friendship. I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts.

  There’s no way he would feel that way because he doesn’t even know me.

  “Samantha, we’ve got to go now if we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.” Shane winks at me and inclines his head toward the door. “I’m taking her out for the day,” he says to my parents who look at him as though he’s just proclaimed he’s found a cure for world hunger.

  So, he’s not such a saint after all because I know for a fact traffic isn’t likely to pick up for at least two hours.

  I wink back and say, “I might not be back before lunch.”

  “Dinner,” Shane corrects. “I have great plans for today.”

  “You heard him, guys. I might not be able to answer every text so don’t come tracking us down in case the phone’s switched off for an hour or two.”

  In spite of my smile, I’m dead serious. Not only would that be embarrassing. My parents can be so pushy and tiresome, it would also most certainly ruin my chances with the one guy I really like.

  And by that I mean the guy I might actually be in love with.

  But only might.

  Mom laughs and Dad joins in. I can tell they think I’m joking. I frown at them, my eyes communicating one unspoken warning after another, which Mom interprets as the jitters.

  She cups her hand to her mouth as she is mouthing, “Don’t worry, love.” Or at least she thinks she’s whispering when in fact she might as well be speaking through a microphone. “He’ll know you’re a keeper. Just don’t do that thing with the fork, you know, the thing you always do.”

  The fork what?

  I’ve no idea what the woman’s talking about.

  “The rolling thing,” Dad chimes in. When he realizes I’ve no idea, he grabs a teaspoon from the dresser (Brits offer basic tea making facilities in every hotel room) and begins to wave it around in mid-air, pretty much in my face.

  “I don’t do that,” I mutter and look at Shane nervously. “I really don’t.”

  “She does,” Mom says, not helping, but bless her soul. “She always has, and she doesn’t even notice it. She almost hit her dad a few times. It only happens with forks. You should be careful before she takes your eye out.”

  I feel the heat scorching my face.

  “Charming. Now you’re making me sound like a psychopath in the making.”

  “Good to know she can’t be trusted with a fork,” Shane says, smiling at me. “Any warnings about knives?”

  Rather than be put off, he’s joining in the fun. I should be mad but instead I find that I sort of like that he’s not taking life too seriously.

  “Don’t encourage them,” I whisper and head for the closet to pick out something to wear. “I need to get changed. See you later?”

  “Let’s leave the kids to themselves, Trish. They don’t want some old turtles like us around,” Dad says, as though Shane and I are a couple already.

  “Speak for yourself.” Mom half-dances out the room. Dad smacks her backside lightly and she giggles like a schoolgirl.

  I don’t know whether to apologize to Shane or pretend my parents’ behavior isn’t weird at all.

  The door closes behind them.

  We’re alone at last.

  “I hope my marriage will be like theirs,” Shane says. His eyes meet mine and for a moment there’s something in his gaze that sends an electric current through me.

  “I hope mine too.” My voice comes out low, hesitant.

  He reaches out his hand and I interlink my fingers with his, wondering whether the sudden glint in his eyes is more than just the bright sunlight catching in them.

  “He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord,” Shane says. I may not always have been a true believer, but I know my bible. He’s quoting one of my favorite passages from Proverbs, though I can’t tell why. “Shall we do this?”

  “Yes,” I say without the slightest hint of hesitation.

  “I can’t wait.” His gaze flickers with something, and in that instant I know it’s not the light. It’s something else. Something that sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. Something that tells me he wasn’t quoting Proverbs to show off his vast knowledge of the Holy Bible.

  I think he feels what I feel.

  “What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious with his gaze resting on me.

  “You are beautiful. I thought so the first moment I saw you.”

  I smile at him awkwardly. I don’t feel beautiful in my PJs. I want to brush my hair out of my face, but he doesn’t let go off my hand. Instead, he gets up from the bed and draws me closer to him.

  His mouth is inches from mine, his hot breath caressing my skin. I search his gaze and feel lost in the cloudy storm that are his eyes.

  “Samantha?” His voice is soft now. Gentle. Filled with meaning. “Your parents asked about my intentions with you. Your dad insisted that I put my cards on the table.”

  I groan inwardly. Of course they did!

  “What did you say?” My heart is thudding in my chest. I can hear the shaking in my voice, the fear, the panic that, whatever my parents demanded to know, put him off completely.

  “I told them the truth.” He smiles. “I told them that I care about you. I said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That I had been missing you the past few weeks and that my feelings for you aren’t platonic at all.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and for a few moments I think I forget to breathe.

  “I said, ‘This is the kind of woman I could marry’.”

  “Oh.” I stare at him, lost for words.

  Shane wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to his chest. “That’s why your mother said what she said. It wasn’t a joke. Your parents and I had talked, that I wasn’t averse to the idea.”

  “Why would you say that?” I whisper.

  “Because…” His hand brushes over my cheek gently. “It’s the truth. I’ve never felt like this before. I think what we have is the real deal and I want to work with it. I want to ge
t to know you. Find out everything about you. I don’t just want to pick up where we left. I want a new beginning. The only thing left to figure out is if you want it, too.”

  In spite of the flutter in my chest and the lack of oxygen in the air that seems to render me breathless, I somehow find enough strength to smile at him.

  “Yes,” is all I can manage to squeeze out before his lips find mine in a kiss that leaves my head spinning and my knees wobbly.

  He feels what I feel, and it feels just right. Along my journey, I didn’t just find love with the sweetest, most handsome guy I could have ever wanted. I also found God. I found joy. I found peace.

  What can I say? God is truly good.

  * * *

  The End

  * * *

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  Afterword

  Thank you for taking the opportunity to read this book.

  If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a review (no spoilers please) and to tell your friends about it.

  Reviews are hard to come by, so I want to thank everyone who helps to spread the word and leave a review, even if it’s just a few words.

  Dear Reader,

  * * *

  I think God often talks to us. This book might just be His way of talking to you. Obviously, he won’t be telling you about Samantha and Shane. He might want you to know something else which is that He’s waiting for you to listen for His voice. Maybe you used to believe once upon a time or never at all. Maybe you believe but have lost your way somewhere along the hard path of life. Whatever it is, why don’t you open a bible, be it yours, a free online version or a neighbor’s, and let God talk to you directly? You won’t be disappointed. Give it a try. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.