Professor Rhine’s beat up Ford pickup sat parked in the gravel drive. At his age, he wasn’t much help with manual labor, but he kept Dad company. They chatted back and forth about rental properties and renovations, a topic to which they both related. Momma strolled from the house toward the barn, a tray of fresh lemonade in her hands. Whitleigh took cover, putting the barn between herself and her mother. Once behind the barn, she headed toward the river at the bottom of the hill. Best no one knew now, at least not until she got a grip on her emotions.
“Where’s Whit?” Her momma called out.
The men mumbled.
“Well, if you see her, let her know her friends are on their way. Good news for you. Looks like you need a few more hands.”
Whitleigh hurried down the hillside. Tall green grass smacked across her shins. She kicked her leather cowboy boots from her feet and buried her toes into the muddy riverbank. Fresh earthy scents whirled about in the slight breeze. Slow, clear, and steady water flowed down the shallow river. Nothing hindered the current, except maybe a piece of driftwood tangled up in overgrown weeds and vines. The water didn’t mind. It flowed anyway, pushing past the obstacle with ease. Could she make herself as carefree as a river, overcoming whatever challenge lay in her path?
She sat, arms dangling over her knees. A few more tears trickled down her cheeks. “What do I do, Lord?”
No answer.
“Do I let him go? What about school?”
No reply.
Whitleigh fanned the grass dancing at her calves. The blades ran between her fingers. Leaves rustled overhead in the late spring wind. Branches from a nearby weeping willow swayed to the beat of a silent melody. Sunlight danced on top of the water.
“I’m waiting.” Whitleigh tilted her head, ear pointed toward heaven.
“Hey.”
Whitleigh jumped, looking over her shoulder. Bryant ambled down the hill in her direction, wearing a shirt that was much too tight. She rolled her eyes and focused on the clear waters near her feet.
“Talking to yourself now?” Bryant took a seat on the grassy floor at her side, not bothering to ask for permission.
Whitleigh huffed.
“I knew wedding planning would send you over the edge.”
She dismissed his remark with a scowl. “Where are Reese and Lennon?”
“Inside with your momma. Petit fours baking practice.” He wiggled his fingers, mimicking their excitement. “Crazy wedding stuff.” He waved at the air. “Blaine’s helping your Dad. I think he’s trying to impress Lennon.”
“Tell him good luck with that.” Whitleigh hid a grin in the nook of her elbow. “Shouldn’t you be helping them too?”
“Thought I’d come say ‘hi’ first.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “Besides, I’m not Professor Rhine’s favorite person, if you know what I mean.”
True. “Who could forget the classroom showdown?” Whitleigh stroked her forearm. “He’s forgiving.”
Bryant didn’t contend. No need.
“What about you, Whit-bit?” He poked at her side. Whitleigh scoffed at the nickname. “Maybe you should go help the girls make petit fours?” He rubbed at his stomach. “I’m willing to taste as many as I need to. I’m here to make sure your wedding guests have only the best quality desserts.”
“Sure you are.”
“Oh, I get it. You want to bask in my presence.” Bryant pulled Whitleigh into his arms in a giant bear hug. “Get on up there before I have to turn my charm on full throttle. You’ll never be able to resist me then.”
“Not in the mood.” Whitleigh struggled within his grasp.
“Hey. You crying, Whit?”
“No.” Whitleigh dabbed her face with the neck of her T-shirt.
Bryant loosened his hold and draped an arm around Whitleigh’s neck. She sank forward under the weight. “I’m listening.”
“You listened better before you started hitting on me all the time.” She sniffled. “Puberty ruined our friendship.”
“Ha. It was that kiss, wasn’t it? Give me a do-over. One more.”
Whitleigh managed a short laugh through a stuffy nose. Her toes dug deeper into the mud. “You should ask Reese out. I think she’d keep you in line.”
“Nah.” Bryant’s mouth curved downward. “I’m too much man for her to handle.”
“You’re probably right.” Reese would manhandle him.
“Talk, Whit.” Bryant plucked a blade of grass from the ground.
“Relationship issues.”
“Ah. Well, in that case, I can tune you out and do a really good job of pretending to listen.”
They took turns tossing pebbles into the river. Whitleigh counted the generations of ripples beyond the initial impact of the rock. A turtle peeped its head through the rings of water, disrupting her count.
Bryant sighed, breaking the silence. “Okay. Seriously. You think you guys are gonna work it out?”
Whitleigh gave a half shrug.
“As much as I love you, and I do, you know, you and Collier are good together.” He groaned, tossing a blade of grass aside, face growing more serious than she’d ever seen.
Whitleigh winced. “You’re admitting this? Out loud?”
“I’ve seen the two of you together, and you’re better together than apart.”
“That’s the problem.” Whitleigh tucked the corner of her bottom lip beneath her teeth. “He’s going to be gone for a year in Korea. I can’t go with him.” She rocked on her tailbone. “I’ve dropped everything to be with him. School. My scholarship. Cashed out my savings to help cover the wedding costs. For what? To not be with him?”
Bryant nodded. He tossed a small pebble. It sank beneath the water, leaving a ring of ripples behind. “You’re wondering if you want to marry him now. Cold feet? That why you jammed them in that mud?”
“No.” Whitleigh sighed, rolling her neck. “Maybe. Go away Bryant.” She shoved his arm from her neck. “I don’t need you trying to swoop in.”
Bryant watched the water for a moment. Whitleigh tried but couldn’t quite figure out his expression. “Tell me this.” He rested a hand on his knee. “And tell me the truth. Do you love him?”
“That’s silly, Bryant.”
“Then what’s the issue?” He lifted a shoulder to his ear. “If saying yes was right when things were going as planned, then why wouldn’t it still be right when something gets in your way?”
“I don’t know. Because.” She slapped at his arm. “Nothing about this marriage has gone according to plan.”
“Doesn’t sound like the Whit I know. Where’s your faith?”
“I’ve been asked that way too many times,” Whitleigh grumbled, holding her head in the palm of her hands. Where was her faith? “I thought I had it, or found it. Now?” She sighed into her hands. “I don’t know.” Could she trust God now? “When did you get so wise anyway?”
“I listen in church too, you know.”
Whitleigh cracked a smile. She exhaled, shaking her head. “So what do I do?”
“That’s up to you.” Bryant blew out his cheeks. “If you choose not to marry him…” He ran a shaking hand over the back of his head. “Well, I’m here, Whit.”
His green eyes, much different from Collier’s twin pools of blue, met hers. He placed a hand over hers, leaning forward.
Whitleigh swallowed. She scooted sideways, opening up more space between them.
Bryant clenched his jaw, turning away for a split moment. “Why didn’t we work out, Whit? What did I do wrong?”
“Come on Bryant. We’ve been over this.” Whitleigh smirked, pushing at his shoulder.
“I’m serious. What does Collier have that I don’t?”
Her smile dissolved. She combed her hands along the length of her braid. How to answer?
“You know he’s enlisted, right? I’ll be an officer when I graduate. I can give you more.” Bryant kicked at the riverbank with the heel of his leather boots.
“The fact you think
that would make any difference is one good reason why we didn’t work out. I don’t care about what he can or can’t financially provide.” Whitleigh narrowed her eyes. “You can’t buy me. You can’t make me fall in love with how amazing you think you are. I’m not impressed.”
“So maybe if I dropped out of school and left you behind like Collier, then you’d be ready to marry me at the drop of a hat. I guess I was just too good to you, too nice and considerate.”
“You’re such a jerk.” Whitleigh jumped to her feet and lost her balance. She flailed her arms, but continued to fall back. The tip of her hair skimmed the surface of the river just as Bryant lunged forward, catching her in his arms. He pulled her close to his body and pressed his lips to hers.
Whitleigh pried her hands between their faces. She stumbled back and glared at him through the narrowed slits of her eyes. As if by instinct, her hand rose and collided against his jaw with a resounding crack. A sharp pain shot up her arm. Bryant stood perfectly still, unmoved and unmoving, while a red welt the shape and size of her hand formed on his face. Whitleigh yanked a handful of grass and pebbles from the ground and launched it in his direction.
He didn’t bother to dodge the projectiles. “If you give me a chance—”
“You don’t love me, Bryant.” She scrubbed at her lips.
He winced. Whitleigh stood her ground. “You love the fact I’m the only girl that’s never given in to you. I’m not a game.”
“Whit—”
“Stop.” Whitleigh stomped the ground, dismissing the pointed rocks boring into her feet. She swept her boots from the riverbank and held them in a white-knuckled grasp. A cough escaped her throat and she choked on words better left unspoken. Her head throbbed faster than her beating heart. A longtime cherished relationship ended today with an unwarranted kiss. Would another end as well? If only Collier were here to help her make a decision for their future.
WHITLEIGH tied the apron around her waist. Her hands trembled. She dragged her palms over a wadded dish towel to wipe away the dampness. She dared not lick her lips. She’d scoured them to the point of raw with bare hands, forearms, and the fabric of her shirt.
“He kissed you? Just now? For real?” Lennon held the icing bowl on her hip, mouth gaping open. Her oversized Periodic Table shirt puffed out the side of her apron. “What kind of kiss?”
“Where’s he at?” Reese slammed a batter covered spatula into the dishwater with a sudsy splash. The multi-colored beads draped around her neck swung like a pendulum. “Who does he think he is forcing you to kiss him?”
“My arm still hurts.” Whitleigh’s cheeks grew hot. She rubbed at her arm, and then folded them. Her muscles tensed. “I should’ve kicked him in the groin.”
“What is Collier going to say?” Lennon’s words squeaked out.
Whitleigh groaned. “I don’t even know if we’re getting married now.”
“What?” Lennon dropped the mixing bowl. Icing splattered on the checkered tile floor.
Reese’s eyes bulged. A strange squawk escaped between her pouting lips.
“Everyone calm down.” Momma pulled a sheet pan from the refrigerator, placed it on the counter, and took a seat at the old round kitchen table. “Whit, honey, sit down.”
Whitleigh took a seat at the table, shoulders pressed to the back of the chair.
“The wedding is six weeks away.” Momma covered Whitleigh’s hands with her own. Warm and gentle. Those were Momma’s hands. “You can’t call the wedding off based on Bryant’s grab for your affection.”
“For real.” Reese and Lennon bobbed their heads in unison.
“There’s more. Much more.” Whitleigh lifted a spoon from the table and dug into the mixing bowl in the center. She scooped up a hunk of pink icing and shoveled it into her mouth. This conversation called for a lot of sugar. “Got any milk?”
Lennon poured glasses of milk for each person at the table. Whitleigh talked, filling them in on the details of the day. Momma sat silent, while Reese and Lennon gasped and groaned.
After several minutes and many petit fours later, Whitleigh slouched forward, sipping at the last bit of milk in her cup. “So that’s the whole story.” She propped her chin on a balled fist. Her eyes watered a tad. “I don’t know if I can trust God. I know He said yes about marrying Collier, but now things are different.”
“Maybe the situation has changed, but God hasn’t.”
“Ugh. That’s what Bryant said.”
Momma crossed her legs. “You can’t let fear stop you from doing what God wants you to do.”
Whitleigh bowed her head. Momma was right, but it didn’t make the situation any easier. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can marry Collier.”
The timer on the oven buzzed. No one moved to remove the contents.
“Um, I’ll get that.” Whitleigh stood, retrieved the thin layer of sheet cake, and placed it on the cooling rack next to the stove.
“Do you love Bryant?” Momma leaned into her chair.
“No.” Whitleigh flicked her wrist. “Yes, as a friend.” She closed the oven door with her hip. “He’s like a brother.”
Reese and Lennon exchanged sighs. “You had me worried for a second, Whit.” Lennon fanned her face. She straightened out her apron.
“Collier said he’d understand if I couldn’t go through with the wedding, or stay with him.” The words strangled her heart. She lowered her head and scooped a warm piece of cake from the tray. It crumbled in her hand. “Maybe all these setbacks are God’s way of saying Collier and I aren’t meant to be.”
“If you think that, Whit, then I haven’t raised you right.”
“Momma.”
“If God told you to do something that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy or that you won’t have setbacks. You persevere.”
Reese and Lennon sat quietly on the edges of their seats.
“This is so much bigger than persevering Momma, and it’s bigger than what man I should choose to marry.” Whitleigh nibbled on a cake crumb and wrung her hands clean. “What kind of life am I signing up for? How can I teach and do summer missions with him going away for a year at a time and me worried for his safety?”
“You think you need a classroom to teach and an overseas destination to do missions? You teach by the way you live. Your mission field is all around you. Can’t you see that? God wants you to love Him and others, whether or not you ever marry or who you decide to marry.”
Whitleigh couldn’t make eye contact with her momma. Momma’s words made it difficult for Whitleigh to even lift her head. Truth hurts. Truth stings.
Reese and Lennon remained quiet. Whitleigh refused to let a tear fall. She’d cried enough today.
Momma scooted the chair from the table. Her arm draped across Whitleigh and pulled her close. “Collier is following God’s calling. Do you think it would make him any safer if he were to stay here with you? We aren’t called to an easy life, Whit, but an obedient life.”
“What’s so wrong with what I have planned?” Tears beaded in the corner of her eyes. “It’s all good things.” Whitleigh laid her head on Momma’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
“You’ve got a big heart, sweet girl, and all the things you want to do are good… they're great, but God wants the best for you, not good or great.” Momma kissed her forehead and continued. “Doing what God wants you to do may never be fun or easy, but it’s where you’re gonna find joy and peace. That’s what you want baby. You don’t want things to go your way, or for all your plans to go accordingly, not really anyway. It’s joy and peace you want.”
She lifted Whitleigh’s chin until their eyes met. Momma’s eyes sparkled. “Now you need to decide what it is God wants you to do so you can snatch that joy and peace right up.”
Whitleigh gave a short smile. She knew the answer, right? Joy and peace—yeah, that sounded nice. Definitely something she needed right now, but what to decide? Was she even supposed to get married? Her head ached.
&nbs
p; “Why don’t we pray about this, Whit?” Momma folded her hands in her lap. “This is a tough situation. No answer is pretty for anyone involved.” Momma patted her lap. Her knees jostled to and fro. She did that when fighting off tears.
“Here.” Reese extended her hands. Lennon locked hands with Reese and Momma.
Whitleigh took hold and finished forming the circle around the kitchen table where more than meals were shared. “I’ll start.”
ZEALOUS children filled the halls, biting at the bit for summer vacation to begin. Their sneakers squeaked across the tile floor as they made their way to and from lunch, singing as they ambled along. The teachers, as weary as most looked, joined in the celebration. One last hurrah.
Whitleigh stood close to the classroom doorway and high fived the kiddos as they passed. Up high, down low, too fast, too slow. Forcing herself to laugh wasn’t hard around them. They lifted her spirits and provided that joy and peace while she waited for God to provide an answer. Marry Collier or not? If not now, when? Or ever?
“Come on in Mrs. Ruther’s class.” Whitleigh patted their backs as they filed in. She counted heads and faces. Still no Brady. He never missed and wasn’t one to be tardy. “Alright kiddos. Mrs. Ruthers will be back in a sec. Put your lunch stuff away and let’s line up at the door for recess.”
Most of the children sprang into action. “Careful. Watch where you’re going.” A few of them butted heads.
“Now is it time for the water balloon fight?” Jameson folded his arms as he stood.
A few of the pigtailed girls answered before Whitleigh had the chance. “Stop asking or we’ll never get to it.”
“Let’s speak nicely.” Whitleigh hid her smile as she glanced toward the doorway.
Mrs. Ruthers hurried down the hall. Her facial features downturned. “Go ahead and take them out. I’ll be right there.”
“Everything okay?”
“I’ll fill you in.”
Whitleigh wrinkled her brow. “Um. Ok.”
Mrs. Ruthers moved down the hall toward the principal’s office without further explanation.
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