Her dad’s chair scraped against the wood floor, and they turned to see him push away from the table. “Sometimes I wonder what it is I’ve done that the women in my life are hell- bent on making me suffer.”
The smile on Rebecca’s face disintegrated and the color drained from her face.
Chris didn’t know where the words came from or how to stop them, but he laid them out on the table as Rebecca’s father gathered his plate and turned toward the kitchen.
“Augustine said that suffering is not a punishment, but that God is a physician and suffering is his medicine for salvation.”
Rebecca’s dad stopped and slowly turned back to them. “Thank you, Mr….”
“Reynolds,” Chris supplied.
“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, but I prefer not to take my religious instruction from a papist. Especially one that works in a brewery.”
With that he left the room, and in a minute his feet climbed the creaky stairs.
“Well, I guess I’ll clean up,” Rebecca said.
He heard it in her unsteady voice and saw it in her watery eyes. She was trying to hold back tears. He grabbed onto her arm as she stood.
“Rebecca, it’s okay. I tried, but somewhere through the course of the meal I realized I can’t be something I’m not, even if it means I don’t gain your father’s approval. I’m Catholic now, and I don’t foresee that ever changing. And I’m excited about my job. Very excited. Not because it’s a brewery, but because it’s work. And it’s a bigger salary with benefits. It’ll open up new doors for me. And for us.”
She finally looked at him, her eyes moist and almost sable. “I’m happy for you Chris, truly. The tears are just…I’m just sorry. He was so unkind to you.”
Chris stood, too, and began helping her clear the table. “It’s okay. I’d like your dad to like me, but I’m more concerned about earning your affection, trust, and respect than his.”
Rebecca smiled. “Well, your odds of success are definitely better with me.”
Chris motioned toward the front door. “I noticed a porch swing out there. Maybe after we clear the table we could sit outside? It’s a nice evening.”
“I haven’t sat on that swing in ages. It sounds nice.”
***
Rebecca relaxed for the first time that evening as she sat on the porch swing and touched her toes to the floor to steady it for Chris. He sat beside her and rested his arm on the seat behind her as he pushed off. They swung in silence for a couple of minutes. Rebecca noted how quiet the neighborhood had become. When she and Abby were little there had been a dozen kids running up and down the sidewalks, cutting through yards, and skipping rope at this time of day.
She turned to face Chris. “Your face looks a lot better. The bruising’s almost gone.”
He rubbed a hand over his cheek and lip. “Yeah. It should be gone by Monday. I hope.”
She nodded in agreement. “So, why didn’t you tell me about your interview?”
“I didn’t know if I had any chance of getting the job.”
They swung in silence for a few more beats.
Rebecca twisted her hands in her lap. “You fascinate me.”
Chris leaned away so he could see her face. “How so?”
“You quote Augustine, and you make an awesome campfire. You carry a rosary in your pocket, and you’re going to work at a brewery. You’re a virgin, and you ride a Harley.”
They swung back and forth two more times.
“I never said I was a virgin.”
Rebecca’s cheeks heated instantaneously, and she started to stammer something she realized must be incoherent before Chris’s hand squeezed her shoulder.
She looked over at him and her cheeks cooled. She had come to recognize the look in his eyes when he was messing with her.
He smiled. “But your assumption is correct.”
She smacked his arm with her hand, and he shrunk away from her, rubbing his bicep. “Ow!”
“You deserve it. You’re terrible.”
He laughed. “So, none of those things you mentioned are mutually exclusive.”
“No, but they are unusual combinations. I think it’s part of what makes you so attractive. You’re not afraid to be exactly who you are. You’ll follow the truth wherever it leads you.”
The teasing vanished from his eyes. “I think that’s the nicest compliment anyone’s ever given me.”
Rebecca stared at her hands as she twisted them in her lap. “Well, it’s just pointing out the obvious. You’re infinitely more interesting than I am. I’ll admit I can’t quite figure out why you want to hang out with me.”
The swing came to a stop as Chris’s feet dragged over the wooden plank floor, and she looked at him in question.
“I’m not coordinated enough to kiss you and swing at the same time. Something had to go.”
He slid nearer to her on the swing and pulled her close to him with the arm that still rested behind her. His other hand moved over her hands in her lap before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. How many times had he kissed her like this? Twice the night of Alan’s wedding, once after their camping trip. Was it possible she’d get used to it and her heart wouldn’t feel like it was going to explode out of her chest every time his lips touched hers? She hoped not.
Chris pulled away only enough to speak. “Is there a twelve-step program for this?”
Rebecca placed another light kiss to his lips. “What?”
“Your kisses are addictive.”
She smiled. “I don’t want you to get help. Ever.”
His hand massaged the back of her head and his fingers pulled slowly through her hair. “That means I might be hanging around for a while.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Do you need a promise?”
The screen door flew open with such force it slammed against the wall, and her dad emerged. He had changed into his workpants and a matching shirt with the local gas company emblem emblazoned over his left pocket. Rebecca shifted away from Chris in the swing and his arm lifted from behind her as her dad adjusted his fat leather belt around his waist.
“Rebecca, I’ve been called out on an emergency. Lock up before you go.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Mr. Reynolds, I assume you’ll be going.”
Chris straightened in the swing. “Yes, sir. As soon as I help Rebecca with the dishes.”
His gaze lingered on Chris as if he was trying to decide whether or not to believe him, and then he hurried down the steps and to his car.
She watched him go, and then turned back to Chris. Her heart did that little flutter thing. Dinner had been a bust, but the evening wasn’t.
9
Broken Things
Chris couldn’t limit his dates with Rebecca to the weekends anymore. He didn’t care what his schedule looked like; he had to see her midweek. He’d only be working at Rieser’s Market another week anyway, and then he’d enjoy normal working hours except for some special events here and there.
He spotted Rebecca right away. She leaned against the parking garage railing overlooking the amusement park. A long ponytail hung almost halfway down her back, and she wore a white, knee-length skirt that flared around her in the breeze. The roller coaster noise and the accompanying screams reached a crescendo, so when he’d coasted his motorcycle into a parking spot on the opposite side of the garage, she hadn’t noticed.
It was like someone had tethered helium balloons to his limbs, and he could glide across the lot to her. Just seeing her made his spirits rise. He smiled as he thought how he could have a little fun with her.
He walked up behind her noiselessly. Then he reached forward and tugged her ponytail before wrapping his arms around her waist. He opened his mouth to say, “Surprise,” when she let out a blood-curdling scream. Her elbows simultaneously jabbed into his midsection.
“Rebecca, Rebecca, it’s me. It’s me—Chris.” Finally, he was able to grasp her wrists and get her turned around.
“See? It’s just me.”
She breathed heavily for a few seconds as the terror in her eyes faded. “Chris, you scared me.”
“No kidding.” Were they taking nominations for the understatement of the century?
A large, muscular guy in a ribbed, white, tank shirt approached from off to their right. “Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?”
Rebecca wrapped her arms around her waist. “Yes. I’m fine.”
The man looked back across the lot to a woman standing alongside a stroller holding the hand of a preschool-aged boy. He turned back to Rebecca. “Do you know this man?”
“Yes. He’s…a friend.” She laid a hand on Chris’s arm. “He just scared me coming up behind me like that is all.”
“All right then,” he said before giving Chris a once over and then heading back to his family.
The tension in Rebecca’s face eased, and color flooded back into her cheeks. She moved her hand from his arm to his side. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Chris shook his head. “Nah. The new bruises will just blend in with the others.”
Rebecca jerked her hand away as if she still might be hurting him. “Oh, my gosh. Your ribs. I’m so sorry, Chris.”
“Just kidding. I’m good. If I had known it would upset you like that, I never would’ve snuck up on you.” He took her hand and held it. “Are you okay?”
Rebecca nodded. “Fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I overreacted.”
Eager to distance them from that awkward scene, Chris asked, “Are you still up for dinner?”
“Of course.” Her tone sounded less confident than her words.
The hostess seated them on the terrace of the restaurant and bar under a large orange umbrella. The waitress brought them two tall glasses of water with a small dish of lemon wedges. Chris smiled at the short-haired, middle-aged woman.
“Can I get you something from the bar?” she asked.
“Do you have any Gateway beers on tap?”
She named a summer lager and an India Pale Ale.
“I’ll try the summer lager. I start work there soon, so I’d better get familiar with their product.” He smiled across the table at Rebecca.
Her breathing rate and color appeared normal. She leaned forward and asked, “Do you think a glass of wine would help settle my nerves?” Her voice sounded calm.
“I don’t think it would hurt.”
Her hair was still secured in that long ponytail with a few wisps grazing her neck. Beautiful.
“Would you pick something for me?”
He looked back at the waitress. “What kind of red wine do you have?”
“We have a pinot noir, a merlot, a shiraz, and a cabernet sauvignon.”
“A glass of merlot, please.”
The waitress left, giving them a few minutes to look at the dinner selections. In less than a minute, Rebecca laid down her menu.
“Whatever they’re grilling smells fantastic. I think I’ll have the mushroom burger.”
Chris made his choice and set his menu down as well. A large truck rumbled past. In the opposite direction, a train whistle sounded, momentarily forestalling conversation.
“So, do you want to talk about why my sneaking up on you freaked you out like that?”
Rebecca leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Not really, but I guess you deserve an explanation.”
He waited for her to begin.
“There’s not much to it. Just a bad memory.” She fiddled with her napkin and pressed it into her lap as the waitress brought their drinks.
They placed their orders, and Chris watched as she sipped her wine. “Do you like it?”
“I do.” She took another sip, and he waited for her to pick up the conversation where they had left off.
“Anyway, the summer camp—Bible camp—that I went to in high school—”
“The one where you met someone Catholic?”
She giggled. “Yes. I didn’t connect the dots for you. That someone was John. Father John. I don’t know if I can get used to calling him ‘Father.’ I think he’ll always be John to me.”
“We could call him ‘First Kiss John.” She was so easy to tease.
“Ha. Anyway, there was a guy there. Older than both of us. He just…he came on really strong.”
Her pause didn’t inspire confidence in her story. “What do you mean by ‘he came on really strong’?”
“He came up behind me like that and caught me off guard.”
That couldn’t be all. “And?”
“And he had me sort of trapped, and I got scared. That’s it.”
He’d have to take her at her word. He sensed that was all he was going to get on that matter.
“If we’re done discussing my neuroses, can I ask you a question?”
Chris tasted his beer. It was good; not too hoppy. “Shoot.”
Rebecca pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, at Alan’s wedding, Megan said you were shy—at least in high school, and I don’t think you have a shy bone in your body, so was she out-of-her-mind drunk or have you changed?”
This must have been part of the uncomfortable conversation with Megan he had walked in on when he came out of the restroom. “She said that, huh?”
“Among other things.” She gave him a little teasing smile, as if Megan had shared some other secrets about him with her. Maybe she had, but considering he had no real personal history with Megan, it couldn’t be too bad.
“She was drunk all right, but she was right about me being shy. I guess from about the time I started school, I remember trying to avoid attention. I was the kid who knew the answers but never raised his hand. When I got to be twelve or thirteen it kind of spread to my social life, too. I didn’t speak unless spoken to, and when it came to girls—forget it. I couldn’t even string two or three words together.”
Her eyes never left his as she twisted her wine glass on its napkin. “Why?”
“Good question. I’ve thought a lot about that, and the best I can come up with is the typical story of a boy who lived in his big brother’s shadow. There were only the two of us, so comparisons were inevitable. Alan was larger than life. He was good at everything. Not great, but good enough to be noticed. He’s a people person, an extrovert. And girls—to this day I don’t know what his secret was, but girls were drawn to him like flies to honey. So, by being shy, I took myself out of the equation. There was no comparison. No competition.”
Rebecca took it all in, but didn’t say a word.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She pushed her glass forward on the table and rested her hands in her lap. “I’m just trying to square that with the outgoing, confident man I’m looking at now.”
The waitress brought their meals and after saying grace and enjoying a few bites of their food, Rebecca picked up the conversation.
“What happened? How did you go from that to this? There must have been some catalyst.”
“There was.” He finished chewing and took another drink of his beer. “My college roommate and I were polar opposites. I don’t know how we got matched up, but we couldn’t have been more different. We got along okay, but we had nothing in common. He reminded me of Alan in some ways, but he had a mean streak. You didn’t want to cross him.
“So, one Friday night he didn’t come home. It wasn’t the first time. I figured he met a girl, and frankly, better her place than mine. But the next morning, one of his friends dropped by and told me he’d been killed. I figured he’d been driving drunk or he overdosed or something. . .” He shook his head. “Total freak accident.”
Rebecca set her sandwich down. “What happened?”
“He was driving home and whether he was under the influence or not, I never heard, but it didn’t matter. Just as he was about to pass over a sewer cover in the road, it burst off and flew right through his windshield.”
Rebecca’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. Even if you weren’t close…that’s hor
rible.”
Chris sat very still, recalling the days following his roommate’s death. “It was harder on his friends and family, but it really made me think about life and how nothing’s guaranteed. Here today, gone tomorrow. I decided I wanted to live my life and find meaning in it, not just watch it whizz by from the sidelines.”
“And that’s it? You were able to change your personality like that?”
“It was more of a gradual process. I had to keep pushing myself beyond my comfort zone, but eventually it came naturally, and I started to feel more like me than I ever had, if that makes any sense.”
Chris lifted his burger again, and Rebecca finished off her wine.
“I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt free to be me.” Her downcast eyes and fragile tone made Chris’s heart ache.
“Why not?”
Rebecca pushed the remainder of her burger around the plate then peered up at him. “Could we save that for another time?”
“Sure. I guess the conversation got kind of heavy.”
“That’s my fault. You were trying to play with me, and I went all loco on you.”
“Please don’t apologize, Rebecca.” He reached across the table and grasped her fingers. “I want to have fun with you, but I want to get to know you, too. Even your heartaches and your problems.”
She smiled, and they finished their meal in silence.
Everyone suffered in this life, Rebecca included. Chris knew that, but if he could, he would take up every one of her crosses for her. He just wondered how many there were.
***
By Saturday evening, Chris longed for a low-key date alone with Rebecca. That wasn’t on the agenda. He stared out the car window at a two-story, brick, Tudor-style home as Rebecca gathered her keys and cell phone and dropped them into her purse.
“Is your dad coming tonight?”
“No.”
He felt a little guilty at the amount of relief that one word generated. If he was going to keep seeing Rebecca, he’d have to find a way to coexist with her father, but not tonight.
“Abby will complain that he doesn’t care enough to come to his own granddaughter’s party, but she set the date before she ever asked him which weekends he was working.” They exited the car, and she continued. “She resents that he doesn’t make a big fuss over her kids but refuses to see how much he dotes on them. I called him last night, and all he talked about was Ricky starting baseball, Emma singing the ABC song, and Ian rolling over.”
Stay With Me Page 10