Drummer Boy

by Toni Sheridan

  “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Everyone has a story.”

  “But mine is—”

  “Amazing. Whenever anyone comes to Christ, the story is miraculous, worth being told, but some people’s paths are harder, more filled with adversity than others.”

  Jane fiddled with her earring as he continued, “The kids will relate to some of the disappointments and insecurities you’ve had to overcome. A lot of them don’t have dads—or, like you, had a string of stepdads that were worse than having no dad at all.”

  “How are you so sure I’ve overcome anything?”

  “It’s a process, but look at where you are. You have a close knit family, a great job—don’t even try to play the ‘used to’ card again. You’ll be back at it soon enough, and you’re easy-going, kind and non-judgmental. You don’t value qualities that are just skin deep. You’re an inspiring example of not only what God’s grace can do in someone’s life, but also through someone’s life.”

  Jane swallowed a lump that suddenly formed in her throat. If Tim thought his words even remotely described her, he’d be crushed when he realized how insecure and pathetic she really was. How much of her confidence and not sweating the small stuff was an act? How much she did, to her bitter disappointment, apparently care about outer appearances, after all.

  “So, uh, what do you say?” he asked, and she realized she hadn’t said a word in reply.

  “I say.” She laughed. “I say you’re very kind, and though you have me pegged all wrong, if you think I could encourage your kids, I guess I’ll show up.”

  15

  The world had frozen overnight, but the sun was glorious and bright in the way it can only be in frosty, icy autumn. Light sparkled off every branch and crispy leaf. The afternoon would be warm despite the early morning cold. The thought made her cheerful.

  Tim’s eyes squinted as he grinned at her when she arrived at the soup kitchen.

  “Well, don’t you look happy today,” Jane said, beaming back.

  Tim shrugged. “I’ve got a lot to be happy about. What can I say?”

  Jane busied herself immediately, opening bags of buns—two handed—and dumping them into the stainless steel bowls on each side of the towering stacks of melamine soup dishes.

  “Is one of the things you’re happy for, the sun?” she asked.

  “Yep,” he said. “And The Son.”

  She returned his grin and groaned. “Good sentiment. Bad pun.”

  Tim disappeared through the big swinging door into the kitchen and returned moments later with a box of individual butter pats.

  “And what else?”

  “The youth meeting went well. Two kids decided to try living at home again after hearing you talk. I’m really glad you took part. Thank you.”

  Jane shook her head. “No, I should thank you. It was really beneficial for me to focus on all the things God has done for me—things I’d kind of forgotten until I started to try to prepare something to share.”

  Tim’s gaze seared through her. “And I’m grateful that the funding came through for this place for another month. That Sarah’s still clean. And for…” his voice lowered, got a little huskier.

  Jane raised her eyebrows, a little shiver running through her. “For?” she prompted.

  Tim shrugged. “Excellent company.”

  Jane smiled, nodded. “Ditto.”

  “Hey, Jane, we’re here,” a young voice interrupted. Five youth group kids who’d volunteered to help serve were standing in the doorway. “What should we do?”

  The next hours passed in a blur of steamy, homemade turkey soup and corn chowder, conversation with the people who came for lunch, and chatting with the kids and directing them as they helped.

  “Same time, same place next week?” Jane asked Tim when the din had died down, the clean-up was done, and most of the volunteers were gone.

  “Oh, don’t make me wait a whole week,” he said. “Don’t even make me wait a whole day.”

  She shook her head. “You’re a nut.”

  “Nuts about you, maybe.”

  “Uh huh.” She smiled.

  “Seriously. I’m starved. Will you let me to take you for dinner?”

  Jane pretended to think about it. “Is there dessert in the offer?”

  “Is that the deal breaker?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Well, in that case, there’s as much dessert as you can eat.”

  Jane patted her tummy. “You’ll live to regret those words, Tim, my boy. Live. To. Regret.”

  ****

  Jane slammed the car door and waved good-bye as Tim pulled out of the driveway. Then she paused for a moment, took a deep, deep breath, and closed her eyes.

  The world smelled so good. Fall and changes, indeed.

  A rubbery snapping sound pulled her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes.

  Candy stood up from beside a rose bush she’d been pruning and was pulling off her gardening gloves. “Hey there, daydreamer. You’re sure spending a lot of time with Tim these days, hey? I take it you guys are figuring things out?”

  Candy was calling her a daydreamer now? That was almost as silly as Tim’s latest shirt featuring a sleeping guy with a thought bubble that showed him drumming, and the words “Daydrummer” written across the bottom. The thought made Jane smile.

  “Boy, you have it bad.”

  “Have what bad?”

  Candy laughed.

  “We’re just friends,” Jane insisted.

  Candy nodded.

  “I’m serious.”

  Candy’s eyebrows rose. “You spend every waking minute together.”

  “We’re doing volunteer work. There’s a lot that needs to be done and not a lot of people with time or resources available—”

  “I know. I know. The only reason you’re joined at the hip with Tim is for a higher good. Seems to me, though, you flirt less with him, are more real with him, have a genuine affection for him, and seem to have way more in common with him than you’ve ever had with any of the other guys you’ve dated.”

  Jane ran her good hand lightly over the hedge. Candy had worked it over, too, and the newly clipped branches were sharp and prickly, but smelled delicious: cedar and fresh air, nothing better. And after a few days the bushes would adjust to the pruning, the sharp bits would soften and smooth in with the rest of the branches.

  Candy continued to stare at her. “You really like him.”

  Jane shivered. The day had warmed up, but beneath the golden autumn rays, the breeze was cool.

  “What is it, Jane?”

  Jane waved her hand to dismiss the endless pushy questions. Yes, Candy and Dean had finally figured out their relationship, and Jane was really happy for them. She was. Candy would love, and thrive in, the roles of wife and mother, but just because Candy thought Jane would thrive too, didn’t mean it was true.

  16

  Tim applauded lightly. Three of “his” teens, plus Sarah and Alphie, had been coming out for free drum lessons and thought it would be “cool” to be part of his Christmas concert idea. “Sounding good, guys.” He moved to the end of the line, listening carefully. “That’s it, Bryce. Nicely done. Sarah, one and two and three and four. Nice.”

  “I have to admit, having a Christmas drum line is going to rock,” Sarah exclaimed, breaking her rhythm to twirl her sticks.

  Tim went to ruffle her hair, but she yanked her head back.

  “This is a carefully cultivated look,” she said with pretend snootiness. “Hands off.”

  Alphie laughed and got up. “OK if I grab a soda?”

  “Of course,” Tim said. “You don’t need to ask.”

  Alphie shrugged a little bashfully, and Tim was surprised again by how the years had fallen away from the guy over the last months.

  “So,” Sarah said the minute Alphie was out of earshot, “where’s Jane?”

  Jane. Tim’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Why would I know?”


  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “We’re not a couple.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No,” Tim shook his head, “we’re not. She’s not into me like that.”

  Sarah chewed her lip. “You still haven’t even told her how you feel, have you?”

  “Yes I have. Pretty much. She was sweet about it, but clear that we’re just friends.”

  “Aw, Tim—”

  “No sympathy needed, kiddo. I just wanted to give you the heads up in case Jane and I stop hanging out so you’ll know why. I want to be cool with just being friends, but I don’t think I can be.”

  “So tell her one more time. Say it just the way you said it to me.”

  “I don’t think so. If it’s God’s will, it will happen.”

  Sarah rapped his arm with one of her sticks. “Agreed, but sometimes you have to step out boldly in faith. You can’t just sit here playing drums in a basement with us losers and expect Jane to have some ‘I want to marry Tim’ epiphany without another indicator from you that you feel remotely the same way.”

  His niece’s words made sense.

  “All right,” Tim said. “If you stop lecturing me, I will talk to Jane…tonight.” His heart welled at the idea, even as he broke into a sweat. He did need to ask again—to find out if her feelings for him had changed at all, if he remotely stood a chance of being anything but a good buddy.

  And if not? Well, he didn’t want to be one of those creepy guys who declared friendship, but secretly angled to make it more. He’d respect her wishes and back off for good.

  17

  Jane twirled in front of the mirror and flashed a grin to test the full effect of her look. She was attractive—arm or not. She sighed.

  “What are you doing?” Kaylie asked, unwittingly mimicking the very question that had just flared in Jane’s brain.

  “Going out.”

  “On a date?”

  “Mmm, sort of, maybe…”

  “Tim and Jane sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—”

  “Stop it. It’s not Tim,” Jane interrupted her little sister’s fun.

  A tiny wrinkle appeared between Kaylie’s eyebrows and for a second, Jane saw an uncanny resemblance between her older sister and her younger one. Jane sighed again. She always worried someone. Now, she’d sparked concerned in her younger sister.

  “You don’t sound very excited.”

  Jane shrugged and took a sip from the water bottle she had on her vanity.

  “And I don’t get it. If you’re going out with someone else, why’s Tim here?”

  Jane practically spit her water through her nose. She recovered, coughing a bit. “Tim’s here? Now?”

  “Yeah,” Kaylie said, confused. “I let him in. Is that OK?”

  “Of course. I’m just surprised.”

  On the way down the stairs, Jane wondered why she hadn’t just declined Rob’s invitation. They’d met in a waiting room months ago where they’d both been waiting to see the same specialist. He was from out of town, back again now for a follow-up appointment, and his call had come out of the blue. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal. Until now. Now she had a bad feeling in her stomach.

  “Jane, hey!” Tim said as she entered the room—like it was some special treat that she’d appeared, not completely obvious she would, seeing it was her house and all.

  She hated how Tim’s eyes lit up when he saw her. It made her heart skip. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she seeing him and only him?

  “Uh, I have…plans.”

  His smile faded. “Oh, yeah? Well, I guess that makes sense.”

  It did? Jane wasn’t so sure, not so sure at all.

  He gestured at her outfit. “You’re all dressed up.”

  She shrugged.

  “You look…stunning.” It was like the words physically hurt him—and he scowled. She’d never seen him scowl before.

  “Did we—I’m sorry, we didn’t have something scheduled that I forgot, did we?”

  Tim shifted his weight foot to foot and Jane realized, almost hysterically, that she was doing the same thing. They really were ridiculously similar in some ways.

  “No, no plans,” he said, shaking his head. “I just, ah…never mind.”

  “No, what?” she asked.

  “I just wanted to see you,” he said softly. “I always want to see you.”

  Jane searched frantically for something, anything, to say, wanting to be brave, wanting to, for once, risk saying something she really thought, too.

  But the doorbell rang, and Kaylie rushed to the door from the kitchen, shrieking, “I’ll get it.”

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” Tim said, and slipped out the door as Rob entered.

  “Just wait a second.” But her words came too late.

  Tim was gone.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Jane,” Rob said, leaning in the doorway in a position that showed off the well-toned six-pack beneath his expensive knit shirt. He gave Jane a quick once over before smiling warmly.

  And suddenly Jane knew something. Concretely. Without any doubts. She placed her hand on Rob’s forearm. “I’m sorry, Rob. You seem like a nice guy, but having dinner with you wouldn’t be fair.”

  Rob blinked. “Not looking for a relationship right now?” he asked, his voice almost a parody of understanding.

  “Something like that, sort of,” Jane said.

  “Uh, OK,” he said. “I mean I’ll still take you out, but if you’re sure…”

  Jane wrinkled her nose apologetically, and she was sorry he’d dragged himself all the way to her house, only to have her cancel, but he was a Ken doll, and she was tired of pretending she was Barbie.

  Rob gone, Jane grabbed the phone and called Tim’s cell. It had been set to voicemail. She left a message. Then another. And finally a third that was much less chatty and hyper-cheery than her first two had been—and more real. “Please call me back. I know I hurt your feelings. Again. We need to talk.” She listened to the empty air for a few seconds after she pressed end.

  18

  Jane walked with Tim to the dark corner of the parking lot where their cars waited, totally alone, the last of the stragglers from youth group long gone.

  She shook her key fob at him, and he smiled grudgingly at the tinny-tinkling sound. “Yes, for the billionth time, it’s fantastic you’re driving again. And it’s even more excellent that you’re back to work. Congratulations.”

  “It’s just light duty for now,” Jane said but couldn’t keep excitement from her voice.

  “It’s sure getting cold, hey?” Tim moved further away from Jane, fists shoved in his pockets, looking up at the sky.

  Jane studied his posture for a moment and then followed his gaze, taking in the expanse of navy shadows. Here and there, pinpricks of bright silvery light popped out, breaking the darkness.

  “The stars are coming out right before our eyes,” she said.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  “Don’t do what?”

  Tim sighed. “Be all cute and whimsical.”

  “I’m not. I promise. I’m definitely being all grouchy and stoic.”

  Tim laughed, but it wasn’t his normal belly laugh. It was a dry, almost sad, sound.

  Jane shivered.

  “Yeah, really getting cold,” he reiterated.

  “Thanks for calling me back,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “Why did it take so long?”

  Tim wrapped his arms across his chest and buried his hands in his armpits. “I wanted to think about what I wanted to say.”

  “That’s weird. I thought I was the one with specific things that needed to be said.”

  “Maybe we both do, but please hear me out.”

  “OK—but we have to walk. All this standing around is making me mental.” Jane took three steps before Tim joined her, and it wasn’t until they crossed the street and found a sidewalk that he spoke again. “You’re really special, Jane.”
<
br />   “I know…but I’m safe when medicated. I promise.”

  “I’m not joking.” He almost sounded irritated.

  She’d never heard him sound that way.

  “And I know from all your jokes every time it comes up, you don’t see me the way I see you.”

  Tim had been right. The temperature really was falling. The black sidewalk glimmered in places where moisture was freezing, creating shiny, slippery spots. And she was wearing stupid shoes—pointy-toed flats without good tread. As if cued, she started to slip. Before she even put her good hand out to try and regain her balance, Tim caught her. She rested her head against his chest, breathing hard. She could hear his heartbeat. For a moment, time stopped.

  “Jane,” he whispered against her hair. “Being just friends, watching you date idiots, it’s killing me.”

  She pulled back gently.

  Tim’s brown eyes were honey-gold in the yellow beam from the overhead streetlight.

  “Oh, yeah?” She placed her hand on his chest, the same spot where she’d listened to his heart. “And what can we do about that?” She’d intended the words to be light and coy.

  Tim looked away from her and scrubbed a hand over his chin. “You’re not ready yet. I get it.”

  “I don’t know if you do, Tim.” Jane flashed her biggest smile. “I’m flirting with you—”

  “I know. You’re always flirting—with me, with some other guy…with someone. And don’t get me wrong, I see your charm. You have a super cute way about you.”

  “Super cute” from his mouth didn’t sound like a compliment. A burning lump formed at the back of Jane’s throat, making her voice craggy. “But?”

  “But I don’t want to be just one more guy you flirt with.”

  “You’re—you’re not.”

  “You have no idea how much I want that to be true. No idea how…Ah, never mind.” He shrugged one shoulder, and then was quiet for so long Jane started to bounce from foot to foot. “I pray for you all the time, you know,” he said.

  “Oh, really? And just what do you pray for me about? That I’m not a shallow flirt? That I get my life figured out?” Jane clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked at the bitterness that she’d let seep out.