I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, . . .
For some reason, the words hit her hard. Lucky Nephi. His father hadn’t been out chasing other women while still married to his mother, hadn’t left his wife to care for Nephi and his siblings on their own, hadn’t cast his family aside for another woman.
Perhaps going to sleep while reading would work better if she didn’t bring her own emotion-charged baggage into the book. Lori had been born of a goodly mother, at least, and she’d try to concentrate on that.
With a sigh, she forced herself to read on.
. . . therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father; and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, . . .
Lori stopped again. She could certainly identify with the affliction part lately—her play flopping, Nicholas dumping her, ending up halfway across the country from her home and family.
She sighed again. Deeply. At this rate, she’d be up all night just getting through the first verse. She started again.
. . . nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days; yea, having had a great knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God, therefore I make a record of my proceedings in my days.
Lori was surprised that she read the next verse. And the third. And by how quickly she relaxed as she read. Must be all the weeding and fatigue finally taking effect.
It wasn’t long before her eyes closed and she settled into a peaceful sleep.
~
Dressed in her power jammies the next morning, Lori finished her Tae Bo workout in the living room, pushed the coffee table back into place, and slipped into the kitchen for another glass of the lemonade she’d mixed last night.
So far the day had gone exactly according to plan. She’d slept in until nine. Worked out. Now it was time for breakfast, then relaxing for the rest of the day. No church. No interruptions. No stress.
She wiped her face with her workout towel, draped the towel over a kitchen chair, pulled out a bowl, and dumped in some home-baked granola. She hadn’t baked it, of course—that’d been done by the folks at her mother’s favorite health food store and deli back in New York.
She flipped open the Brigham City Daily. There was a reminder of Peach Days the first week in September. More missionaries listed. Stories of decidedly local interest. Quaint. More Mayberry with Mormons stuff.
Lori poured milk over her granola and lifted her spoon.
The doorbell rang.
Oh, she was so not answering the door today. It was just past ten on a Sunday morning in Brigham City—shouldn’t all her Mormon neighbors be in church already? Was a Jehovah’s Witness making the rounds while the competition was distracted?
She tried to ignore the bell, not even getting up to peek through the window to see who it was. She was just going to sit here and eat her breakfast and wait for them to leave.
She took a couple more bites; the doorbell rang again.
With a roll of her eyes, she continued eating.
The doorbell again. Two rings, this time. Whoever was there was really persistent. But so was Lori.
When the obnoxious intruder started to knock—loudly—she began to get mad. Someone was ruining her day of rest.
She rose, ticked off and ready to tell this person—no matter which religion they happened to belong to—to get off her porch and stay off. Lori swung open the front door—and stopped, mouth open, too surprised to speak.
Dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt, and tie, John Wayne Walker stood on her porch, smiling and looking incredibly and wholesomely handsome. He glanced down at her jammies and back up to her face; his grin widened.
Her anger faded and was quickly replaced by embarrassment. “Umm—” That was as far as she got. She tried to re-summon her anger but the fickle emotion wouldn’t return.
He tipped the brim of an imaginary Stetson. “Hi.”
“Um.” She tried not to look down at her jammies and, to his credit and her relief, he didn’t look down again either. “Hi.”
“Can I come in?” He looked and sounded amused.
“I’m not exactly dressed for receiving guests.” She started to recover her voice—and, finally, her attitude. “What will the neighbors think if you come in while I’m still in my jammies?”
“They’ll think you’re absolutely scandalous, of course.” Now he sounded extremely amused. “As do I.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can handle being labeled scandalous, but can you afford the blot on your spotless reputation?”
He laughed, the sound rumbly and comforting. “I can survive a smudge or two. Are you going to make me stand out here all morning? It’s hot.”
She opened the door and stepped back. “Excuse me a moment.”
Quickly, she grabbed her red silky robe from the bedroom, regretting its faded look and frayed hem. Better than the jammies, at least. Tying the sash, she came back out to find John relaxing in the doily-armed, pillowed chair. “Why aren’t you in church, mission man? Surely you’re not the kind of guy to play hooky.”
“Nope.” He eyed her robe. “It is lovely, but somehow I thought you’d dress up more for the occasion.”
“Hey, you caught me totally unaware, without even a courtesy call first.”
“I did invite you to come to church with me, remember?”
Ah, yes. She didn’t like being pushed and light tension filled her muscles. She forced a smile. “Tell you what. You can watch me eat breakfast and I’ll wave as you leave for church. I told you I don’t do church, remember?”
He grinned. “Technically, I remember you saying—and I quote—‘Yeah, right.’ Therefore I, of course, assumed you meant you were going. You do keep your promises, don’t you?”
Was he consciously playing one of her convictions against another? Or was it just coincidence that he was pushing her to keep a promise to go somewhere she’d promised never to go again? “I did not promise, though if I had, of course I would.”
He widened his smile without saying a thing.
She frowned. “You are absolutely infuriating.”
“I’ve been told that. Never believed it, though.”
“Believe it. I am so not going to church with you. Besides, I’m expecting some Jehovah’s Witnesses any minute.”
“Let me see if I can tempt you.” He leaned back in the chair and his voice grew quiet. “I attend a singles ward, along with a lot of other very nice people. And I thought you could use a few friends while you’re here.”
She sighed. Deeply, darkly, dramatically.
He chuckled, apparently even more amused than before.
“Don’t push the church thing. You’re lucky I like you at all, in spite of the fact you’re a Mormon.”
“Thanks. I like you, too. So are you coming to church with me or not? I don’t have all day to wait for your decision.” He glanced at his watch. “We have to leave in forty minutes. Can you possibly make yourself presentable by then?” He pulled a face as if it was distasteful just to look at her.
If he hadn’t obviously been teasing, his voice warm as honey sliding over her senses, she’d have been offended at his words. As it was, he caught her by surprise—again—and she laughed. The laughter released whatever tension there had been between them.
“Why on earth would I go with you? I repeat—I have not been to church in thirteen years.”
“Then I say it’s about flipping time.” He eyed her from head to foot and back. “That outfit has got to go. Hurry back.”
She stood, uncertain. She couldn’t believe she was even considering it.
He motioned to her. “Shoo. Go on. You don’t have much time. And I don’t like being late.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t like being pushed.”
“I’m not pushing. I’m encouraging.”
She shook her head, frustrated. “I can’t.”
He slipped from the chair and knelt on the carpet, putting his hands together imploringly.
Surprised, she took a step back.
“Please, Ms. Scott. Please come with me to church. You will liven things up considerably.”
“What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m begging—not pushing. Groveling, even, to get you to go.”
She started to laugh at the sight of this big, brawny man down on his knees, clowning around just to convince her to spend time with him. “Oh, fine, you big bully. I’ll go with you to church—but only to see how you look when you’re struck by lightning for sitting next to me.”
He chuckled again. “I’ll take my chances.”
With a roll of her eyes, she turned and stomped away. Behind her, John began whistling a merry tune. A Primary song, if distant memory served her right: “I Am a Child of God.” The man was sneaky. Oh, yes, he was.
As she carried her clothes into the bathroom and hung her dress from the hook on the back of the door, Lori couldn’t believe she’d let John talk her into going. What was she doing? She hadn’t been inside an LDS chapel for thirteen years. She couldn’t just go back, could she? Just to meet some new friends?
But she was in Brigham City, Utah, where you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting either an LDS person or an LDS church. If she wanted friends while she was here, chances were high she might actually have to associate with some Mormons. Besides, Marti was Mormon and she was a great friend.
Lori was used to hanging out with singles in New York, but she had to admit she didn’t have any really close friends in Manhattan. Her best friend had always been Marti. Lori hadn’t made friends easily, not after her dad left. She’d climbed within herself and pulled up the walls and hadn’t let many people in.
John had shown himself to be a good guy, and he was right—it would be nice to have more friends. At least more acquaintances. The thought of being alone didn’t seem as appealing now as it had even a week ago. The loneliness was beginning to overwhelm her.
She supposed, as long as John was willing to just be her friend and not push for more, she could be willing to open up a little to friendship. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again since Lagoon, so perhaps he’d also realized it would be wise not to cross that line again.
And if she could meet other people while she was in town and help ease her unexpected loneliness, she was open to that, too.
She almost laughed as she turned on the water in the shower.
Bring on the Mormons and pull out the lightning rods—Lori Scott was going to church.
Chapter Twelve
Though Lori would never admit it, especially to her family, she actually enjoyed the first two hours of church. After the sacrament (which she hadn’t taken because she’d have felt like a hypocrite if she did), she’d enjoyed the talk by a missionary recently returned from Brazil, and even the next one by John’s bishop. She enjoyed them more than she would have guessed, but that hadn’t taken much—after all, she’d steeled herself to endure all three hours, for potential friendship’s sake.
The Sunday School lesson had been rambling, and John leaned over at one point to whisper, “Too bad the usual teacher is sick; he’s always well prepared.” But sitting next to John had still been a pleasant experience, and she’d been reminded about Christ’s healing Atonement.
Now, unfortunately, John had deserted her at the Relief Society door for the third hour, and she was currently sitting next to the pretty, slightly chunky woman in her thirties who had welcomed her at the door, introduced herself as Jeanette Harmon, led her to a seat behind the piano, and now couldn’t seem to stop talking. Lori heard precious little of what the teacher had prepared, but a lot of gossip.
She hoped to make it through this class and have John take her home. She’d been there two-and-a-half hours and had given up on finding any friends today.
Lori was relieved when, partway through the class, they sang a rest song. Afterward, the piano player took the empty chair by Lori.
The woman was Hispanic, with glossy, thick, black hair falling past her shoulders and soft feathered bangs framing her heart-shaped face. Her skin was a warm, creamy brown. She leaned toward Lori and whispered, “Hi, I’m Serena Martinez,” with the slightest hint of a Spanish accent in her rich husky voice.
“Lori Scott.” She hoped she wasn’t going to have both women chatting to her throughout the last twenty minutes of the lesson.
Jeanette said, her voice a little too loud. “I was just telling Lori about the ward and about John’s dating habits.”
With a nod, Serena whispered, “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m sure she’s interested in talking about the man she came with.”
Startled, Lori looked at Serena to see if she was being sarcastic or not. The sparkle in her eyes and the slight smile told Lori she was, and Lori liked her immediately.
Jeanette frowned. “She needs to know his reputation. We women have to stick together, you know.”
“Oh, yes,” whispered Serena. She patted Lori’s arm. “You watch out for John Walker, amiga. He loves them and leaves them.”
With a suspicious glance at Serena, Jeanette turned her attention back to Lori. “Your black dress is quite lovely.”
“Thank you,” said Lori, forcing a tight-lipped smile.
“And those shoes. They must be very expensive.”
Lori glanced down at her black Jimmy Choo sling backs and replied with a hint of ice in her voice, “Yes, actually, they were.”
Serena smiled and whispered. “I would die for a pair of Jimmy Choos. You are so lucky.”
Jeanette frowned. “You shouldn’t be so caught up in material things, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Serena whispered. “That’s why you have to choose just a few of the best ones.”
Jeanette made a disapproving sound—a sort of humph—and turned to listen to the lesson. Quiet. Finally.
Amused by Serena’s comment, Lori twirled her necklace, wishing she could leave and find John, but having no idea where he’d be right now. The next time she came with him, she’d tell him she wanted to leave after Sunday School. Maybe even right after sacrament meeting.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? There wouldn’t be a next time. This had been a disastrous friend-finding excursion.
The quiet pause proved to be too good to be true. Jeanette leaned toward Lori again and whispered, “I just think you should know that John likes to play the field. He’s dated all of the women in the singles ward at one time or another. He’s broken more hearts than Don Juan.”
Lori was actually relieved at this news, because it proved John really did want to be just friends.
The teacher glanced in their direction and then away.
Jeanette didn’t even lower her voice. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“That is so thoughtful of you.” Lori crossed her arms and leaned away, trying to put as much physical distance between her and the other woman as she could while still sitting next to her.
Jeanette was everything Lori didn’t like about Mormons—the fake smile and too-sweet church voice. Lori certainly knew plenty of non-LDS people in New York who weren’t very nice, but she was perhaps oversensitive to women in the Church playing false. Ever since Sister Fiona Bennett had made Lori feel like she was something special, when all Fiona really wanted was to get to know Lori’s still-married father better.
With a shake of her head, Lori pushed away the ugly thought.
Serena touched Lori’s arm lightly. “I’m going to the restroom. Would you like to come with me?”
“Yes,” Lori whispered back, grabbing her purse. She followed Serena out of the room and down the hall, grate
ful for the escape—and even more grateful when Jeanette didn’t follow them.
As they entered the restroom, Serena grinned. “I thought maybe you could use some rescuing.”
Lori smiled back. “Thank you for being so perceptive.”
“Jeanette can be a bit . . . overwhelming.” Serena leaned back against the long counter with a warm smile. “Just so you know, I am not going to mention John or his dating habits.”
“Thanks.”
Serena turned to wash her hands. “Unless, of course, you beg me to.”
“John and I are just friends.”
“Good. He could use a good friend. All the women here are trying to get him to the altar.”
Lori didn’t get the feeling Serena was asking, but she answered anyway. “Not me.”
“Me, either. I prefer my men more salsa and less meat-and-
potatoes.” Serena dried her hands. “Where did you move from?”
“New York. Manhattan.”
“Really? Sweet.” Serena tossed the paper towel in the trash can. “Would you like to find someplace to sit and get acquainted, or do you want to go back in with the dragon lady?”
Lori thought of Jeanette, picturing her more like a spider spinning webs of gossip, and shuddered. She’d narrowly escaped that web. “I’d much rather sit and talk.”
They found an unoccupied couch in the foyer. While they chatted, Lori learned that Serena loved snow and skiing and being in America and that her family—mother, father, and two brothers—had moved from Mexico to Utah when Serena was six.
“I was very homesick when we first moved, because I left all my friends behind. How about you? Are you homesick?”
Lori nodded and found herself confiding, “Yes.”
“Would you like to go to lunch sometime?”
“I’d love it.” And she really would. She had found a friend after all. They exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses.
When John walked around the corner, Lori’s heart lightened. But when a curvaceous redhead came into view clinging to his arm, she was surprised by the flicker of emotion. Jealousy? Surely not. Just surprise.
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