by Sandra Byrd
“I’m sorry we can’t help you out more,” she said as we entered the little bistro I’d picked out. “With both Dad and I retiring.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really.”
I think we were both a little nervous about me being solely responsible for me.
We sat at a table next to the window, and I ordered for us in French, since I knew the waiter from L’Esperance.
My mother sighed. “It’s so nice to hear you speak French, both at work and here. I envy you that, Lexi.”
“You’ve never wanted to speak French,” I reminded her. “And aren’t you going to Italy?”
Mom’s face lit up. “I think we are. Right after the wedding.”
I grinned and dug into my purse. “Here,” I said. “I got this for you.”
“For me?” Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
“Unless you know anyone else going to Italy,” I said, smiling.
“Oh no, no. I don’t think I can take lessons. I’d be too embarrassed to speak out in class.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to let the gift certificate go to waste.”
She grimaced. My mom hated wasting anything. She had started composting when most people still considered it stewing garbage.
I clapped. “Gotcha!”
When I stopped being obsessed with myself and started looking out for the benefit of others, a lot of the differences I had with them melted away. Sophie. My mom. God.
Mom leaned across the table and kissed my cheek. The waiter stood back discreetly for a moment, then delivered my all-time favorite sandwich.
I nibbled the corner of the sandwich and then closed my eyes, letting the soft brie melt into the salty ham and sweet powdered sugar. Every possible taste bud was included. Life was good.
Except for the image of Sophie holding Luc’s keys.
A toile ourdie, Dieu envoie le fil.
God sends the thread to begin the web.
Saturday afternoon, we had three leftover Tartes Tatin that we wouldn’t be able to sell the next day. I’d take them to Pete that night with the bread. Even Nonna would be impressed, although she and Stanley now attended church on Sunday. Saturday night was her new bingo night. Or maybe she just didn’t want Pete and Stanley to meet.
Sophie found me cleaning in the back. “Lexi, someone’s here to see you.”
“Okay.”
“Also,” she asked, “could you give me a ride home tonight? to my parents’ house?”
Alarmed, I looked up. “No Roger?”
“Not tonight,” she said, shaking her head. “I moved out.”
I’m sorry.
She waved her hand, making it clear she didn’t want to talk about it.
“We have to stop by my grandmother’s church on the way home, to drop off the bread,” I said. “That’s okay. I’ll help.”
As I walked to the café, I passed Luc in the bakery. I heard him grumble under his breath about how my friends and family certainly visited a lot, and he hoped they were making purchases too. He’d had another stressful week at La Couronne, so I decided not to take it personally.
When I stepped into the café, I saw Dan. He had on jeans and a T-shirt, no suspenders. He looked younger. Less lawyerly.
Why hadn’t Sophie mentioned it was Dan?
“Hi,” he said. “I brought your platter back, and I have another order to place.” He smiled an infectious smile. I couldn’t help it. I smiled back.
“Can you take a minute to sit down with me and fill out the order form?” he asked.
“Sure, sure,” I said. I mean, it was a part of my job, after all.
We sat in the café, and I filled out a catering order—a rather large one this time, for both bread and pastry.
“Make sure those napoleons are on there,” Dan pointed out. “So, do they lock you in here to bake all weekend? I hear bakers have awful hours.”
Was he teasing me?
“I’m not a baker,” I admitted. “I wish I were. And I work far fewer hours than most of the lawyers I know. Most of the lawyers I know don’t have time to have fun.” I batted my eyes, wondering what had come over me. Flirting with customers was Luc’s area of expertise, not mine.
Dan didn’t seem to mind. “Well, you must know the wrong kind of lawyers. Lawyers like me like to have fun. We go…snow-boarding.”
He waited for a response. I didn’t give one.
“And we like to go to movies,” he tried, “when something good is playing.”
I was softening, and I could tell by his face that he knew it.
“Some lawyers, like me, really break out of their shells sometimes and enjoy nature. A partner at our office today said the cherry trees in the U District are blooming right now. Would you like to walk through and see them?”
It was a novel thing to suggest, and walking was a comfortable way to get to know someone, because the pauses wouldn’t be too awkward. Before I knew it, I’d agreed.
“Sure,” I said, suddenly shy.
“Good! Then it’s settled,” Dan said. “Next Saturday afternoon I’ll come by to get you.”
I wavered, uncertainty rising within me. If I wanted out, I had to do it now. I hadn’t expected this…him. It felt disloyal to Luc, somehow.
Sophie nodded her head as vigorously as she could behind Dan’s back.
“Okay,” I said finally. I scribbled my address on a piece of paper.
“See you then,” Dan said. “Four o’clock?”
I shoved the pen into my back pocket. “Sure. Four o’clock.”
When he’d left, Sophie hugged me, and I managed, with a little effort, to match her big smile with one of my own. Luc, on the other hand, turned his back and disappeared into the bakery.
That night, Sophie and I drove the loaves and the Tartes Tatin to Nonna’s church, and I introduced Pete and Sophie.
“Nice to meet you, Saint Sophia,” Pete said. Sophie blushed, the first time I’d ever seen her do so.
“I’m not a saint of any kind, Lexi,” she admitted in my car on the way to her house.
“You’re softer than you let on,” I told her.
She was quiet for a moment. “Is that your church?” she asked.
“No, mine is further downtown. Still coming with me next week?”
“Yeah.” She elbowed me playfully. “A few days before your big date.”
I blushed. “I don’t know if it’s a big date. I was kind of surprised, actually. I mean, I don’t know that I have anything in common with him. And he’s a lawyer. I have a life full of them already. I have more in common with guys who are into restaurants and food and the other things I’m into.”
In other words, Luc.
Sophie’s face darkened, but she turned away before I could read any more into it.
Does she like Luc? I wondered. Does she think it’s inappropriate for me to build a relationship with him?
Neither of us spoke for the rest of the drive.
A few nights later, my mom sat in my room chatting with me while I got ready for the Impact Group. I had to leave in a few minutes to pick up Sophie.
“We made our reservations for Italy.” Mom beamed. “And my classes start next week. I’m so glad you suggested them.”
“Me too,” I said. “What does Dad think?”
She shrugged. “He thinks its fine. He generally supports whatever I want to do, but you know he’s not a real emotional person. Nonna thinks it’s silly.”
“What?” I brushed my hair. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Learning Italian when her mother—my grandmother—made a point not to speak it her whole life, seems silly to her.”
Maybe mothers and daughters weren’t completely at ease at any age. Yet my mother always called Nonna first with good news or bad. Except when she called me.
I checked to make sure I had my icebreaker and headed for the Jetta.
I hope Jill doesn’t say anything stupid about my icebreaker. I hope Sophie feels at home at the church.
I was halfway down the street before I realized I’d called it “the church” instead of “my church.” I’d never really decided on my own if it was my church. I’d assumed I’d just go back there when I returned to Seattle, but maybe that wasn’t where I was supposed to be.
I know I put my faith in you, Lord, but the structure is all pulled away now. If it’s me and you, it’s because I make it me and you.
No ones driving me to church anymore. If I’m going to get there, I have to drive myself.
Sophie lived in Magnolia with her parents now that she and Roger had broken up. When I pulled in front of the house, she stepped out the door. She’d been watching. It was thoughtful of her.
“Ready?” I asked as she climbed in the car.
“Yep.”
“Hey,” I said, looking at her as I pulled away from the curb. “What’s with the piercings? Or should I say, lack thereof?”
“I took them out for the night,” she answered. “I thought some Christians might be put off by them. Some people are.” She flipped down the passenger-side visor to look in the mirror. It came down crookedly.
I really liked that about Sophie. She didn’t push herself on others to accept her as she was. It showed consideration of what made others comfortable.
“You have to hold your head at a right angle to get a good view,” I apologized. “Sorry, my car’s old.”
“At least you have a car,” she said, cocking her head. “It’s got character.”
“Yeah, it wheezes like Patricia running from the café to the bakery to the Gauloise cigarettes.”
Instead of meeting at the church that night, the Impact Group met at a park. The weather, for once, had cooperated.
The group had claimed an area of lawn in front of the lake, and a few people whizzed Frisbees back and forth while Bill and a buddy manned the grills. I introduced Sophie to as many people as I remembered, whispering to her that I was still new there too. Thankfully, everyone was kind, and even Jill refrained from the subtle church quiz, trying to probe someone’s spiritual state.
Once everyone had food, Bill stood up. “As you know, it’s a game night, and all our activities have to do with games. You’ll notice the checkered tablecloths.”
Jill smirked, appreciating the cleverness. Bill and Jill. I could see it clearly now. Could Bill?
“Michelle and Lexi have prepared some game-related icebreakers for us to get to know one another better. I’ll let them take over.”
I gestured to Michelle, who had sat next to Sophie and me. “You can go first.”
Michelle stood and handed out several stacks of Cranium Whoonu cards, then asked each person to rifle through and choose a card that best described them and their interests, but might be a surprise to others.
“I like your icebreaker idea,” I said. I liked her, too, as did Sophie. Michelle had relaxed, coming out of her quiet shell, and she and Sophie were laughing a lot.
“No way!” I said as Sophie showed us her country music card.
Michelle flipped over her card on the table, and Sophie and I asked, “Really? Roller coasters?” at the same time.
“Uh-uh,” Sophie said when I showed her my American cheese card, sounding scandalized. “Not Miss Gourmet!”
We laughed and chatted with the others at the table.
All around me people talked about their jobs and their apartments. Jill had a new apartment downtown. I thought about asking if she needed a roommate.
Nah.
Then Bill asked me to explain my icebreaker.
I brought out a half dozen stubby pencils my mother had loaned me from her preschool, and a small sheaf of papers. I handed a paper to one person at each table.
“Has everyone here played Mad Libs?” I asked. I explained that the person with the paper should ask for a noun, verb, or whatever was needed to fill in the blanks, then read the story aloud to the table.
I filled in the blanks for my table as they called out answers.
It got a lot of laughs. Now, I’d always been a fan of quizzes, but I just didn’t feel like I fit with this group. I said nothing, though, because Sophie was in a fantastic mood all the way home. She looked so young without her piercings: nose, earrings, and the recent eyebrow bar included.
“I liked your game,” she said. “I never play games anymore. It wasn’t really an icebreaker like Michelle’s, but it made me realize that a lot of people have the same problems I do. And it made me laugh. I don’t laugh as much as I should for someone in the so-called prime of her life.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “I miss it.”
I pulled up in front of her parents’ house. I hadn’t asked why she’d moved out of Roger’s place, but I’d seen her take the bus every afternoon.
“Do you want me to pick you up before work?” I asked. “It’s no problem.”
“No thanks,” she said firmly. “The bus is really easy.”
I understood. I didn’t want help either, and it was hard enough living in your parents’ home.
“You opened, you should leave early,” Sophie said on Saturday as we packed up the sandwich supplies after lunch. “Besides, don’t you have a big date to get ready for?”
I wished she’d keep her voice down. I didn’t want Luc to overhear. I glanced toward his office and saw I needn’t worry. He was speaking softly in French, to someone on the phone.
He caught my eye, smiled, and firmly closed his office door. He almost never closed that door. Weird.
“Okay,” Sophie continued, “I’ve bagged all the leftover bread and pastries for you to take to the church on your way home. Now go!”
I stacked the baguettes in the front seat of the Jetta and took off. Thankfully, my parents had gone to Whidbey to choose the cabinets and carpet, which meant Centurion Dad wouldn’t be on duty, waiting for Dan to pick me up. When I’d first brought Greg home, Dad had met him at the door in marine full-dress uniform.
I chuckled, thinking of it, and was halfway through my shower before I realized I’d thought of Greg without causing a little paper cut on my heart.
I got out of the shower and debated clothes. I called Tanya for help. “What do you think I should wear?”
“How about that frilly white shirt you bought a couple weeks ago?” she said. “You thought it was romantic.”
“Oh. I have other plans for that,” I said. “Besides, I’m going for fun, not romance.”
She and I brainstormed and finally came up with jeans, boots, a short-sleeved peach shirt, and a jean jacket. Silver hoop earrings, no necklace, and long, sophisticated ponytail.
“Want me to help plan your outfit for tonight?” I offered hopefully.
“No…but I am having dinner with Steve.” I knew my happiness came through my voice. “Good!”
“I’m afraid. And heavy-hearted.” I could hear it through the phone.
“Hang on.” I set the phone down, tightened the towel turban on my head, and grabbed the Bible off my nightstand. I picked up the phone. “You know I’ve been reading my Bible without anyone kickstarting me for, like, the first time in my life.”
“Yeah.”
“So here’s what I just read in Matthew.” I turned to Matthew 11:29, where I’d left off a couple of days ago, and read the passage out loud to her. “‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’”
“Yeah,” Tanya said, her voice lighter. “I need to give up the burden.”
“You do,” I agreed. “And you can.”
“Have fun tonight,” she said. “Let’s talk tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got some prep work to do for school, but I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Okay. You have fun too,” I said, glancing at the clock. Dan would be here in twenty minutes, and my hair was still wet.
By some miracle, I got ready with five minutes to spare. I
saw Dan pull up and suddenly felt dizzy. What was I thinking? This was practically a blind date!
I took four deep breaths. Now I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. Deep breathing was supposed to help, not hurt. I didn’t want to end up breathing into a paper bag.
I looked out the window—discreetly, of course—and watched as Dan poked his head under the hood of his truck. Then he tried to start it. It turned over and over but didn’t start. He lifted the hood, fiddled with something, and tried again. Nothing.
He wiped his hands on a rag, closed the hood, and walked toward the door. Watching him—no suspenders, no power suit, dead truck—he looked more like a dejected boy than an up-and-coming lawyer. My anxiety faded, and I felt sympathy and friendship instead.
I opened the door. “Car trouble, eh?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I called Triple-A. They’ll be here in a few minutes to tow it back to the dealer.” He sighed. “I don’t have time to deal with this, really. There’s a lot going on. That’s why I bought a new truck instead of used.”
I squinted at the truck. “A Ford?”
“Yeah.”
“My dad always said Ford stood for ‘Found On Road Dead.’ “ I tried to lighten the mood. “Or ‘Forever On Repair Dock.’”
Dan seemed to relax a bit. “I guess that means your dad drives a Chevy or an import, huh?”
“Dodge.” I lifted my keys. “I can drive, if you don’t mind my asthmatic vehicle.”
“Sure. I mean, if you still want to go,” Dan said.
“Worried about my driving?”
He laughed a really rich laugh, one you wanted to laugh along with, as he followed me to my car. I brushed about five pounds of baguette crumbs off the passenger seat, and Dan sat down without flinching.
“Spend the day making croutons?” he teased.
“No, I deliver bread on Saturdays.”
“I didn’t know L’Esperance delivered bread. Don’t you have a delivery person?” Dan asked as we headed toward the U District.
“I take leftover baguettes and pastries to the soup kitchen at my grandma’s church on Saturday,” I said. “Sorry for the crumbs.”