Forever Friends

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “You mean if I could clone myself and live several different lives all at once?”

  “So you’d be a scientist?” she speculated before taking a sip of the warm beverage.

  “No. I was just kidding about the cloning thing.”

  “Good!” She laughed.

  “I think I might be a poet,” he said.

  She set down her coffee cup. “Really?”

  “Is that so surprising?” He took a swallow of his own coffee.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t have you pegged as a poet.”

  “But you could picture me as a scientist. I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He set down his cup, too, then leaned back and reached into the pocket inside his blazer to withdraw a folded sheet of paper. “Would you like to hear one of my efforts?” He began unfolding the paper.

  “I take it I really don’t have a choice,” she teased.

  “Sure you do.” He folded the piece of paper and made a motion to return it to his pocket.

  She reached over and tapped him on the hand. “No, don’t do that. Of course I want to hear your poem.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” She leaned toward him, placed her chin in her palms, and stared into his face. “Fire away.”

  “Okay. I was going to save this for after dinner, but since you asked, here goes.” He read from the paper without looking up at her.

  The Bridesmaid

  A flash of green taffeta, a dress

  With a bow that suggested a little girl

  But complimented the shape of a woman.

  A smile reminiscent of sweet sixteen

  But knowing, like that of a lady.

  A voice like pearls dropping on a mirror,

  Each word crisp and distinct.

  The bridesmaid who caught the bouquet,

  What are her dreams?

  Will they come true?

  Kassia took in a breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That is all you have to say then.” The smile that crept onto his face bespoke his feeling of victory.

  “I wasn’t expecting anything like that.”

  “What were you expecting?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a poem about a sunset or maybe God. But not what you just read. You’re really talented.”

  “You didn’t think I’d write about you?”

  “No.” She lifted the miniature pitcher of cream beside her cup and poured in a few drops, watching as the rich liquid whitened her coffee.

  “I–I hope you don’t think my poem is presumptuous in any way. That’s not what I meant to be.”

  She set down the pitcher and looked up at him. “No, not at all. Really, I think what you wrote is quite sweet. Nobody has written me any poetry since”—she tried to remember—“since grade school. I’m touched by your gesture. I really am.” She extended an open palm. “Will you let me hold on to the poem as a keepsake?”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but I really don’t claim to be Shakespeare.”

  “You don’t have to be. I’m so touched. You know something? I’m melting so much I can feel my body forming a puddle. I think my feet have already disappeared.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe you should have ordered ice cream to cool you off.”

  “Maybe so.” She smiled. “I’ll bet you write verses for all the girls.”

  “No, I haven’t written poetry of any sort in a long time. They don’t require computer geeks to know much about poetry in school,” he quipped.

  “You have a point. You’ve surprised me tonight on so many levels. I must admit, I saw you as more of a jock; yet you have the heart of a poet.”

  “I’m still not sure I’d quit my day job to write a book of verses.”

  “I’m not sure I’d advise anybody to quit their day job to be a poet, at least not until they got a regular gig.” She chuckled.

  “Poet laureate then?”

  “That might be a start.”

  “Since I need to keep working at my nine-to-five, maybe I should start dressing the part of computer software programmer.” Teague patted his shirt pocket with his hand. “I’d better remember my pocket protector from now on.”

  Kassia giggled.

  Teague reached for his pants pocket. “Where’s my duct tape? If I don’t have a roll on hand, I won’t be able to fix my glasses.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “Uh-oh. Guess I left my glasses at home, too.” He leaned toward her. “Could you drive us home? I can’t see a thing without them.”

  By this time Kassia was having trouble containing herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such good conversation.

  “I don’t care what you say, even with glasses and a pocket protector, I don’t think you could look much like a computer geek.”

  “Thanks, but seriously, I’m glad we’ve come a long way from those old stereotypes.”

  “True. Nowadays just about everybody has to be computer proficient,” Kassia said. “But I have to say, now you’ve made me wonder—does anyone still use a slide rule?”

  “A slide rule? I’m surprised you even know what one is.”

  “Oh, I had a quirky professor who used one. Never did understand it.” She smiled.

  “I can’t speak for everyone, but I haven’t used one lately. Can I tell you something?” He cut his glance left and right, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I do know how one works. I hope that doesn’t scare you too much.”

  “Not too much.” She was still chuckling when the waiter set a generous slice of chocolate cake with raspberry sauce before her.

  As they concluded the meal, Kassia sat, relaxed. She marveled at how she was taking such pleasure in being out with a man. Teague was perfect. Almost too perfect.

  Suddenly she wondered if Teague was telling the truth. She had seen her share of smooth men, including those who wrote poetry. Could he be pretending to be a Christian to hide a Casanova lurking inside? She erected a mental fence to protect herself.

  She tried to keep the topic on safe ground. “Where do you get your inspiration for your writing?”

  “In this case, from you, of course.”

  She laughed. “You’re too sweet. I suppose you want me to think meeting me brought out the poet in you?”

  “All right. I confess. I’ve been writing poetry for a while now. In fact I’ve always dabbled in it, at least since middle school.”

  “What was your inspiration then? Another girl, I guess? Should I be jealous?” She laughed.

  “Never.” He shook his head. “No, my inspiration is rarely a woman. It’s usually the Bible.”

  “The Bible?”

  “Sure. A lot of it is written in verse. Especially the Psalms.”

  Kassia searched her brain to recall long-forgotten Sunday school lessons. “You’re right.” She felt her body tense. How had he managed to steer the conversation to his favorite topic so adroitly?

  “So you know your Bible pretty well? Or are you just saying I’m right because you think it’s what I want to hear? Not that I mind being told I’m right.”

  She found his grin irresistible. “No, I do remember a few things about the Bible. I used to go to church all the time.”

  “Used to.”

  “Don’t worry about me. My parents were always active in their church. Still are, in fact. I don’t think the doors open without their being there.”

  “Good for them. But remember, God doesn’t have grandchildren. He only has children.”

  “I know. I’m saved. I’ve been saved a long time. When I was a little girl.”

  “Really?”

  “I asked Jesus into my heart when I was five years old.”

  “Me, too.”

  Kassia hoped her relief didn’t show on her face. Now that she had told him she was saved, maybe Teague would take the pressure off and go back to being perfect.

  Three

  Teague brightened when Kassia made her admission. If she cam
e from a stable Christian home, surely she was saved! What more could he ask for in a woman?

  Father in heaven, thank You!

  For the first time since Theo’s wedding, Teague allowed himself to drink in Kassia’s beauty without a critical eye. Except for telling her about his Bible-based game, he had been reluctant to bring up the subject of religion, fearing her response might be negative. But when he saw the chance to mention the Bible in a personal way, he had to go for it. First her interest in his game and then her willingness to share her testimony had been a great reward for him. Finally he felt free to enjoy Kassia’s company.

  As he would with any person he was trying to get to know, he decided to probe a little into her past.

  “I’ll bet you were in your church youth group when you were a teenager,” he ventured.

  She nodded. “You guessed it.” She didn’t smile, but her jaw seemed to set in a firm line. He wondered why.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m a youth leader at His Kingdom and Holiness Church.”

  Her eyes widened. “A youth leader? Wow! That’s some commitment. Are you thinking of studying to be a pastor, too?”

  “I’m afraid not, at least not at this point in time. Maybe that can be a second career when I’m older,” he speculated. “But for now it’s all I can do to work at my job, much less shepherd a flock, too. I leave that to Pastor Joseph.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” She seemed to be lost in a daydream for a moment. What was she thinking? She ran her finger over the rim of her coffee cup as if trying to memorize its circular shape. “I think you have to be certain you’re called to the ministry before jumping in.”

  “Amen to that.” He smiled.

  She gave him a weak smile. “Kingdom and Holiness Church,” she muttered. She glanced at the ceiling, thought for a moment, then looked at him. “Is that the brick church near the new shopping center south of town off Route 360?”

  “That’s us.” He swallowed. Should he ask her or not?

  “I always admire the stained-glass window when I go by. I like how it’s lit up at night.”

  Her comment encouraged him. Lord, I hope I’m doing the right thing.

  “Um.” He hesitated. “Do you like to ski?”

  “Well, that’s quite a jump in subject.” She grinned. “To answer your question, yes, but I’m not that good at it. I don’t go often.”

  “Our youth group is planning a ski trip in a couple of weeks,” he said.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It always is. We’ve been going for three years now.”

  “You must be an expert skier.”

  “Not really. My family didn’t have the money to splurge on such an expensive hobby when I was a kid, and the nearest slopes were over an hour away, so I learned to ski on these trips. You can be at any skill level from beginner to expert to go,” he added.

  “That’s nice to include everyone.”

  He pursed his lips then wiped them with his cloth napkin. He was conscious of her watching as he folded it and set it back on his lap.

  It’s now or never.

  “Uh,” he finally said, “I–I was wondering, would you like to come along?” He glanced at her quickly then returned his gaze to his coffee cup.

  “Me?”

  “I don’t see anyone else sitting at this table.” He chuckled.

  “True.” She hesitated. “Are you sure? I mean, they don’t mind that I’m not a member of your church?”

  “Of course not. Lots of the kids are bringing friends from other churches and their schools, too.”

  “Well, as I said, I haven’t been skiing in ages. I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

  Was the lack of confidence she expressed a real fear of looking foolish, or was she just trying to bow out gracefully? He couldn’t tell. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to teach or chaperone. Most of the kids don’t go skiing that often, so they’re at the beginner to intermediate levels anyway.”

  She paused for only a moment. “Well, all right then. I guess I can get up enough courage to go.”

  The smile that broke out on her face reminded him of a little girl who had just received a new doll for Christmas.

  “Good!” Suddenly he remembered how rambunctious his youth group could be. “I have to warn you, though—you may not want to mention you’re my friend. They might tease you.”

  “Should I pretend someone else invited me?”

  “Hmm. That would be hard to pull off, wouldn’t it?” He saw the silliness of his advice. “I hope you don’t mind a little ribbing then.”

  “They’re trying to get you hooked up with someone, huh?”

  “They ask me about my love life every once in a while. I don’t have much to tell them,” he confessed. “I don’t mind their questions, though. I know they just want me to be happy.”

  She swallowed and stared at the silver spoon resting on her saucer. “It must be nice to be involved with a group of teens who like you so much, especially since you’re in charge of them.”

  “Sometimes I think they’re the ones who are in charge of me.”

  “I understand things can get that way when you’re dealing with teens.” She flashed him a charming smile that showed off her straight white teeth.

  He smiled back. Teague couldn’t believe how well the evening had progressed. How had he gone from wishing Kassia would cancel their date, to asking her to accompany their youth group on a ski trip? He felt a vague sensation of floating.

  He was brought out of his dream state by the smell of cheap men’s cologne wafting nearby. Teague immediately fell back down to earth.

  He looked up and saw a man had stopped by their table. His heart skipped a beat. Whoever this man was, his were the type of good looks that filled other men with envy and made women swoon. Sort of like Kassia. She swayed back and forth as though she was about to faint, though she seemed to be doing her level best to hide the man’s effect on her.

  “So, Kassia,” he was saying. “Long time, no see.”

  She looked up at him briefly then returned her gaze to her half-eaten chocolate cake as quickly. “Yep.”

  “I miss seeing you around. Where have you been hiding?”

  “Nowhere much.” Kassia shifted in her seat. “I’ve been busy. Uh, Brad, this is Teague.”

  Teague simmered in spite of himself. No last name, huh? Just Brad. Come to think of it, Kassia seemed to forget Teague had a last name, too.

  So who was Brad? A colleague at work? Her supervisor? Someone from her neighborhood? A friend from some sort of organization? Even worse, her boyfriend? Surely Kassia wouldn’t agree to see Teague if she already had a boyfriend. Yet the way he set his hand on the back of Kassia’s chair be-spoke a confidence that seemed territorial—more territorial than Teague liked.

  Brad glanced at Teague as if he were no more than an annoying fly. He leaned toward Kassia and kept his eyes focused on her, a ploy Teague was sure he used just to keep him from joining the conversation.

  Irritated, Teague studied Kassia’s body language. To his surprise and pleasure, he noticed that no matter how far Brad leaned over, she inched just as far away. If Brad was Kassia’s boyfriend, a breakup was sure to follow soon.

  “So, Brad,” Teague managed to say, “don’t you have someone waiting for you?”

  Brad shrugged. “Just the soccer team. We’re here for our end-of-season get-together.”

  “End of season?” Teague questioned. “The fall season should have ended weeks ago. Besides, I would have thought a pizza joint would have been the place for a sports celebration.”

  “For one, the fall season did end awhile back. We just couldn’t set a date sooner because of the holidays. And two,” Brad said, “we go out for pizza all season. We’re here tonight because our coach is moving to another state, and we’re saying good-bye to him. Not that I owe you any explanation.”

  “You don’t,” Teague admitted, “but you’ll have to explain to your team if yo
u don’t get back to your party. I’m sure they miss you.”

  “I’m sure.” He shot Teague an unpleasant look from narrowed eyes then studied Kassia with a more friendly expression.

  Kassia downed the rest of her coffee without saying a word. Tension sat beside them as surely as any dinner companion could have. Teague waited for Kassia to elaborate on her relationship with Brad; instead she stirred sugar into her coffee as though the procedure required as much care as brain surgery.

  “How dare that guy stop by and talk to you!” Teague’s brows furrowed; then he winked. “I can’t believe you had a life before you met me last week!” He waited, hoping his levity would diffuse the anxiety she was apparently feeling.

  “I wish I could laugh about Brad. We recently broke up.” She looked out the window at a couple strolling by.

  “Oh.” So Brad did mean something to Kassia. He couldn’t keep disappointment from coloring his tone. “How recently?”

  Kassia looked at the ceiling as she apparently made a mental calculation. “Before Lexie’s wedding. Not too recently really. And let me make another correction,” she added, looking him in the eye. “ ‘Broke up’ is too strong a phrase. We weren’t serious. We’d only gone on a couple of dates.”

  “But it hurt when he left.” His voice was quiet.

  “More than it should have, I guess.” She traced an imaginary figure on the white tablecloth with her red fingernail.

  “Don’t worry. I know it’s a cliché to say this, but it’s his loss.”

  “Thanks.” Her smile was bittersweet.

  “I know it’s never any fun to feel rejected.”

  She stopped tracing and looked up at him. “You must be kidding. Someone like you knows what it’s like to feel that way?”

  “What makes you think I’m immune?”

  “Well.” She leaned back and gestured at him with her palm open. “Just look at you.”

  Though not prone to blushing, Teague felt his face grow warm. “I appreciate the compliment, but it’s not as if women throw themselves at me then beg to hang on forever.”

  Kassia grimaced and folded her arms.

  Seeing Kassia’s disbelief, Teague decided to take a chance. “I haven’t had a real relationship—I mean a romantic one—since high school.”