by Ginny Aiken
Defeat weighed heavily on her as she scowled at the picture. She looked like a boy, with flaming red hair, too many freckles, and a pixie nose. She felt shortchanged in every department, not just in height. Plus she lacked backbone, at least when it came to family.
Well, she would go out on this date, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. And then an idea began to brew. “I guess I’ll just have to be my charming self,” she said, unable to hold back a grin. Gram wouldn’t try to fix her up again after tonight, despite her prior success with Melissa’s cousins Chelsea and Callie.
Jumping up, she yanked open the closet and began searching through her wardrobe. She threw a simple green cotton dress onto the bed then dove onto the floor to seek out footwear. “Ah, these will do nicely!”
Moving back to the vanity, she plopped herself down and began to do her hair. When she finished, she dug through the drawers and pulled out an assortment of makeup. After applying a thick layer of foundation, blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, and eyeliner, she decided to wash it off. “This date calls for the natural look.” She giggled to herself.
A tap on her bedroom door diverted her amusement. “Yes?”
“Lissa, honey,” her mother said, “I have to run to the store. Are you almost ready?”
“Yes, Mom,” she answered sweetly, feeling a little giddy about what she had planned.
“Good. I should be back before your date arrives, but listen for the doorbell just in case.”
“Will do.”
She heard her mother’s footsteps fade down the hallway. A small pang of regret rose in her stomach, but she quickly banished it. Melissa knew she had to do this or forever deal with her family’s meddling.
Using a cleansing pad, she rubbed off the makeup and stared into the mirror, lost in thought. Yes, she understood their concern. At twenty-two she still lived at home, wondering what she wanted to do with her life. But ever since that day ten months ago, she’d buried her heart. Melissa knew somewhere, deep inside her, a longing for someone to love existed, but she couldn’t get past her grief. God had already taken the most important man in her life—her father—and there were no guarantees it wouldn’t happen again. She knew, without a doubt, her heart couldn’t bear another such hurt.
The door chime brought her back to the present day. After a last quick glance at her reflection, Melissa headed to meet her date. “Please forgive me, Gram,” she whispered.
Bounding down the hall to the front entrance, her pigtails flopped like the large ears she’d worn when she had a part in the school play Lady and the Tramp. The capricious feeling somehow gave her courage. She flung open the door.
“Hi. I’m so glad you dropped by,” she said brightly.
“You are?” He appeared surprised by her comment. Obviously he didn’t think too much about this blind date, either.
“I’m Melissa. What’s your name?” She twirled some of her hair around her finger as she spoke.
“Ah, my name’s Greg, and I—”
“Nice to meet you!” She reached out and cranked his hand. Inwardly she cringed for making such a fool of herself, but it had to be done. Anyway, it was kind of fun.
“I wanted to invite you—”
“How sweet of you. But I have a better idea.”
“I’m afraid there’s been some sort of mix-up—”
“No. You’re right on time.” Her smile faded. Apparently the getup had worked even quicker than she’d thought. Men. They were so predictable. “Oh, I see. You’re no longer interested now that you’ve seen me—is that right?” She hiked her chin and gave an indignant sniff. “You men are all alike. I don’t fit your idea of the perfect date.” She put on an exaggerated pout. “And now you’ve had a change of heart.” She hoped he’d bought the act.
“No. I haven’t had a change of heart. It’s just that—”
Rats. He might be harder to lose than she’d thought. She forced her lips into a smile. “Good. Let’s get going then.” She closed the door and linked her arm with his. “So. I thought we could go rollerblading.”
She watched as Greg did a quick visual intake of her looks. If he thought the black, five-buckle-storm-commando boots didn’t quite match her feminine dress, he never said a word.
“I’ve never done—”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” she interrupted him again. “Where’s your car?”
“At home.”
“You walked here? No problem. We can take mine.”
“Actually I live in the neighborhood—”
“Oh, did you move into the old Hanson house down the block?” She refused to let the poor man finish a sentence.
“Yes. But how did—?”
“It’s been up for sale forever.” She opened the car door for him and waited until he was seated before she slammed it. She walked around to the driver’s side, took a deep breath, yanked open the door, and dropped onto the bucket seat. Before starting the ignition, she fiddled with the air-conditioning dials and, when Greg wasn’t looking, turned up the radio volume. When the engine turned over, the music blared. She laughed inwardly as Greg’s hands flew to his ears.
“You like your music loud?” he asked.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“What?”
She put the transmission in reverse and peeled out of the driveway. Greg gripped the armrest and closed his eyes. She repeated herself loudly, “Doesn’t everybody?” He nodded then visibly stiffened as she cornered on two wheels. Melissa’s heart pounded in her chest. She hoped she knew what she was doing.
The brief drive to the park felt like it took forever since neither could talk over the music. Still, the radio provided a nice barrier while Melissa thought up ideas to make her date hate her. It seemed a shame, too, because he had such caring eyes. His dark hair with its natural wave and a winning smile could cause a girl to swoon. She needed to stop thinking this way, or she’d lose her nerve. Besides, on closer inspection, it appeared to be more like a grimace. No thanks to her driving.
“I’ve never rollerbladed before,” he said quietly when she turned off the engine.
Her ears rang. “You’ll love it!” She hoped she hadn’t just shouted at him.
They nattered about the Wildcats and their last game as Melissa pulled her brightly colored skating equipment from the trunk of the car, where she always kept it. When they reached the rental shop, Greg pointed to a simple black pair of rollerblades.
Melissa placed her hand over the skates the clerk held and shook her head. “He’ll have the neon green and yellow ones, with the matching helmet.” Turning to Greg she continued, “This is a fun sport, so you gotta look the part.”
Greg smiled at her then took the wild skates now being offered. Together they proceeded to sit on a nearby bench. Melissa dropped beside him and pulled out a package of gum. “Want some?”
“No, thanks.”
“I find it helps me keep my rhythm and balance.” She popped a piece into her mouth and pocketed the wrapper. In silence they removed their shoes and put on their skates. Melissa fought the urge to giggle when she glanced at Greg.
“I’m not sure I can even stand up in these,” he said with a shaky voice as he pushed up and attempted to balance.
She stood, blew a bubble with her gum until it popped, then gathered it all back into her mouth. “You’ll do fine,” she said as she slapped him on the back.
The force sent him forward down a slight incline, while he waved his arms as he tried to stay upright. He headed straight for a nearby tree. Melissa raised her hand to her mouth and coughed, hoping to hide the smile spreading across her lips. “Hey, you forgot your helmet and knee pads. Wait for me!” Scooping up the accessories, she effortlessly glided to Greg’s side.
“I–I wasn’t trying to leave you behind.”
“Oh, you were just in a mad rush to hug this pine?”
“Very funny.” He pulled back from the bark. “I don’t know if I can do this, Melissa.”
The way he said her name caused a yearning in her heart and made her knees feel like marshmallows. But there wasn’t time for that now. “Nonsense,” she replied, handing him his helmet and knee pads. “It’s fun and safe and anyone can do it.”
“So there’s no reason I need this equipment?”
“None.”
“I’d watch out for a big bolt of lightning if I were you.” He gave her a silly grin. Again Melissa felt shame at her deception. But she couldn’t back out now.
“Well, it’s like walking. You know. Everyone can do it once they learn how.”
“Thought so. Did I tell you I didn’t walk until I was almost three?”
“Maybe you should have taken up hockey. My dad always said I could skate before I could walk.” Pain seared through her at the mention of her father. She looked away from Greg before he could see the hurt in her eyes.
“Maybe it’s too late for me.” He wobbled again.
“It’s never too late,” she said, her light tone masking her anguish. “Try leaning on me.” What was she doing? She didn’t want any contact with this man. She wanted him to dislike her. But as she held him close, for balance, she inhaled his woodsy aftershave. Their cheeks brushed as his muscular arm clung to her waist. “Take a step and glide.”
“Okay.” His voice seemed as unstable as his equilibrium.
Melissa watched as he jerked ahead. Somehow his presence was almost comforting. Maybe Greg wasn’t so bad.
“Hey, I’m still standing!” he yelled back to her.
Melissa floated to his side, trying to ignore her unexpected attraction to this handsome man. “You’re doing grea—” She started to respond, but he twisted and plowed into her. “Ow!”
“Sorry. I knew I wouldn’t be very good at this. Are you all right?”
Rubbing her ribs and nodding her head, Melissa eyed him for a moment. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a pessimist?”
“Is that so bad?” His gaze met hers as he flashed a disarming smile.
“Well, they say opposites attract,” she replied softly before she realized what she had said.
Greg fought the urge to limp as they walked from the car to the coffee shop. The last two hours had been rough trying to keep up with Melissa, but he had enjoyed it. He hoped he could stay awake while they relaxed over espressos.
Normally he wouldn’t have been this weary. But as the new youth pastor of his church he’d spent most of the day canvassing the neighborhood teens, inviting them to attend a fun night. The hours had felt incredibly long in the scorching Arizona sun. He’d been heading home when he felt led to Melissa’s door and trusted God’s direction. Maybe a troubled teenager needed to know someone cared.
Her house, no different from any of the others on the block with the red tile roof and beige stucco, drew him. He believed the Holy Spirit had directed his path.
When she opened the door, he felt a thud in his gut as if he’d been punched. He knew instantly she had been the reason God had nudged him to her home. She reminded him of Amy. With eyes that held a depth of sadness that made his heart ache. He wanted to run but couldn’t. He should have tried harder to tell her she had mistaken him for someone else, but he couldn’t do that, either. He wondered if some poor guy still waited on her door stoop.
And now they were sipping their drinks, enjoying a pause in conversation since he’d told her he was a pastor. She hadn’t run. “So do you come here often?”
Melissa put her cup down. “I used to.”
He noted the hesitation in her answer and tried to ignore the sorrow in her emerald green eyes. “I guess it’s been a little too warm for coffee these days—even if it is only March.”
She kept her gaze focused on the table as she rubbed her mug between her palms. “This is where my dad and I would come after a day of hiking or some other adventure.”
Nope. He couldn’t ignore anything she might be feeling, no matter how much it pulled at his own anguish. Greg reached out and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Grief takes awhile, Melissa.”
She released her cup as if it were on fire, raised her head, and sent him a penetrating gaze that seemed to ask, “What do you know about it?”
“It’s a road I’m familiar with,” he told her softly in answer to her unspoken question. “It will get easier, but you need to talk about your feelings.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“You think people are afraid to be around you. Afraid you might start to cry or something, right?”
She nodded.
Greg continued to hold her gaze until she looked away. “If you ever want to talk, Melissa, as a friend or as a pastor, I promise I’ll listen.”
She visibly stiffened then rose. “We should head home. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, and it’s Sunday. It wouldn’t be good if you missed church.” A slight smile softened her.
“I’m not sure I can stand.”
Melissa stepped forward to help him as he attempted to rise, and their heads collided.
Pain shot through his temple, but he worried she was hurt. “Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry!” He reached to steady her.
“I have to leave,” she whispered with trembling lips.
He sensed a deep struggle within her and felt the need to back off. “Will you be okay?”
She nodded.
“Want me to come?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
She shook her head and quietly slipped away. Greg took a few steps after her then stopped. He stood helpless as he watched her leave the parking lot at a dangerous speed.
“Father, keep her safe,” Greg prayed. Then he turned, picked up the sunglasses from the table, and began walking the few blocks home.
The night was beautiful, as usual. He’d only lived in Heaven a few weeks, but already he felt like he belonged. The streets were clean, the people friendly, and he looked forward to learning all about the local history. Of course, he missed the Seattle rain. And he missed Amy.
“Just what are You doing, God?” Greg asked. “Am I to be Melissa’s friend or something more?”
Chapter 2
As tears streamed down Melissa’s cheeks, she carefully steered the car into the driveway then cut the ignition. Leaning back against the headrest, she closed her swollen, sore eyes.
“How could he do that? How dare he call me Mel?” she spoke aloud and slammed her fist on the steering wheel, ignoring the discomfort. Melissa took a deep breath. After all, how would Greg know that no one but her dad called her Mel? He’d always wanted a son, and she’d tried so hard to be one for him. She had learned to love hiking, fishing, baseball, and anything else he wanted to do. And now he was gone.
Melissa jumped at the sound of tapping on the glass then rolled down the window to speak to the man in uniform.
“Hi, Melissa, everything all right?”
“Yes, Charlie. Just fine. Were you following me?”
He removed his sunglasses and nodded. “You were speeding. Again.”
“I don’t think so.” She avoided his gaze. She needed another ticket like she needed another blind date. And she didn’t want Officer O’Neil to see she’d been crying.
“Must be them heavy boots.”
She smiled.
“Still making those flies?” Charlie asked as he leaned down and rested his arm on the car.
“Not as much,” she said, remembering the last time she’d made them. Chelsea had needed to learn, or she never would have done it. “I’ve been kind of busy taking care of the Marshall twins until they can find someone.”
“Are you gonna put your dad’s web page back online? Carry on the business?” Charlie cleared his throat. “We miss your dad.”
When would this hurt go away? She wanted to lash out at Charlie but knew better. His concern helped. “Me, too.” Her words were barely audible.
Charlie stood up. “I’m sorry, Melissa. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s okay. I need to be over this.”
“You’ve got to let it run its course. You can’t just decide you should be through grieving and wake up totally different.” He put his sunglasses back on. “You and your daddy were close—more so than most. Give yourself a break, Melissa.”
Charlie’s radio squawked, giving her a reprieve. He meant well, but she couldn’t bear to hear what he had to say. All the gang down at the tackle shop wanted her to stop by, listen to their reminiscing, but it would never happen. She had a stack of flies she could give Bill to sell, but she didn’t want to part with them. As for the Web page, after she’d read the messages in the guest book following her dad’s death, she wondered if she’d ever go back to the site again.
“I’ve got to run, Melissa. You watch your speed like a good girl. Remember—a day of fishing can sure help a person sort out stuff. Take care now.”
“‘Bye,” she managed to choke out. After a few minutes she rolled up the window, gathered her stuff, and went inside the house.
“Hi, Mom—it’s me!” Melissa hollered as she closed the front door, relieved to be indoors with the air conditioner.
Her mother appeared in the foyer, her sandals clicking on the peach-colored san-tillo tiles. “Where have you been?” she asked, her gaze lingering on Melissa’s outfit. She frowned.
“On that silly old blind date Gram fixed for me,” Melissa answered, annoyed that her mother had already forgotten the torture she’d had to endure.
“I beg your pardon? Your blind date has been here, waiting for you for over an hour.”
Melissa leaned against the door. A wave of unease washed over her, and she steadied herself. If he’s here, who had she been out with for the last three hours? And why had this guy only been waiting an hour? She stumbled forward.
Her mother moved to assist her.