by Erynn Mangum
I close my Bible and I’m halfway asleep when I have another daydream.
Brandon smiling . . . eyes twinkling . . . at Hannah.
I suddenly come awake and sit back up. Brandon? Hannah? The thought isn’t new, but I’m wondering now if it may have potential.
Hmm.
Come to think of it, it was the two of us, plural, who came up with the Ruby and Nick blind-date thing. And Brandon knew that. Yet did he get mad at Hannah?
No.
And he always has a special greeting for her. I get, “Mmph, Laurie.”
Hmm.
I lie back down and pull the covers up to my neck. Brandon and Hannah Knox.
It has possibilities.
First, Hannah isn’t so bad. He can marry her and still be friends with me. Hannah won’t care.
And she’s been very interested in God and church. Lots of questions. I predict a new Christian in our midst by next month.
She’s pretty. Brandon’s nice enough looking. Their kids could be cute.
I drift to sleep thinking of Little Brandon and Little Hannah.
The morning comes much too early.
Nothing new here.
Dad is at the table with paper, vitamins, and high-fiber cereal in front of him when I come downstairs. “Morning, Honey. Sleep good?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good.” The paper rustles as he sets it on the table. “Honey, do you think you could get off a little earlier tonight?”
“Sure, Dad. Why?”
He smiles excitedly. “I thought we could go pick out our fishing poles.”
I get my coffee. “Okay. Sounds good. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at five?”
“Works.”
“This will be so much fun, Laurie.”
I sit opposite him and plan the day.
It will go as follows:
(Scene: The Brandon Knox Photography Studio. Morning. Laurie walks in.)
LAUREN: Morning, Hannah. Where’s Brandon?
HANNAH: Hello, dear Laurie. I believe Brandon (said with a blush) is in the back, reading financial statements with his forehead creased, his elbows on the desk, and stroking his chin (blushes again). But that’s just a guess.
LAUREN: You like him, don’t you?”
HANNAH: (covers her face) What can I say?
LAUREN: The truth.
HANNAH: Yes! Yes, I like him! But I cannot. Not yet. I need to call Nick. I need to learn how to become a Christian first. Then . . .
LAUREN: Then what?
HANNAH: Then I want to marry Brandon.
Seems easy enough.
I kiss Dad’s cheek, promise to behave, and set off to work like the good career girl I am.
Hannah is sitting down at her desk when I walk in.
“Hey, Hannah.”
She rubs her cheek wearily. “Hi.”
I frown at her appearance. Her hair is half-curly, half-straight, and to the untrained eye could look like an attempt at the beachhead look. I know it’s sheer laziness and lack of time spent with a blow dryer. This is how I know: She’s wearing a fuzzy sweater and jeans.
Everyone knows that fuzzy sweaters and jeans are the outfits of extreme exhaustion.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“I didn’t get to bed last night until two thirty.” She pulls her extra-large coffee closer, yawning hugely.
I shove my backpack in the cubby. “Why?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Uh, sure.”
“They were showing an . . .” She clears her throat and looks away. “An Elvis marathon on TV last night.”
“You didn’t.” I make no effort to hide the laughter.
“I did.” She groans and lays her forehead on the desk. “Look at me! I am pitiful!”
“Hey, could’ve been worse. You could’ve been watching The Three Stooges. Then there would be cause for worry.” I pat her back. “So cheer up.”
Brandon walks in. “If I sacrifice you to the god of money, do you think I’ll finish these financial forms faster?” he asks me.
“Pagan. Read Romans 1,” I tell him.
He ignores me. “Good morning, Hannah.”
She moans, head still on desk.
He frowns with concern. “Hannah?”
“Mmm?”
“You okay?”
“Mmm.”
I grin. “That means yes.”
“You look like you have a hangover,” Brandon says. How he decides this, I’m not sure, because he still hasn’t seen her face.
“Mmph.”
I interpret. “That means she wasn’t drinking, but her hips hurt.”
Hannah starts laughing.
Brandon stares at me. “Why do her hips hurt?”
“Because she —”
Hannah jerks her head up, long blonde hair flying. “Don’t you dare,” she threatens me.
“Hannah?” Brandon asks.
“And her knees hurt.” I skip into Studio Two. “Better ask her, Brandon. She might need to go home.”
“Lauren Holbrook!”
I bat my eyelashes at her and close the door. The room, dark, cold, and lonely, does not look inviting.
The point of picture taking is to make the person whose picture you are taking feel comfortable enough to look normal. I find doing impersonations of Disney characters and singing off-key parodies of famous songs can help.
However, in order for me to feel comfortable doing that, the studio needs to be comfortable.
I turn on the lights, jack up the heater, and force the computer to come out of hibernation. I open the door to go back out to the front office.
Brandon sits on Hannah’s desk, idly twirling a pencil between his fingers. Hannah’s talking animatedly, her blonde hair bouncing.
Neither hears me.
I turn back into the studio, quietly closing the door.
Ruby and Nick. Brandon and Hannah.
Ty is married with three kids. Newton got married last summer.
Soon I will be the lone single person at The Brandon Knox Photography Studio.
Couples, couples, couples.
I am surrounded by couples!
I sit on the couch in the studio with a huff. There’s Ryan, of course, but technically we aren’t a couple. Should something ever come of it, it won’t work anyway because of Dad.
Why isn’t life more like chick flicks?
I sit there depressed for the next five minutes before suddenly snapping. What is wrong with me?
I’m Lauren Holbrook, remember? I’m not interested in dating. I’m never getting married. I don’t have these kinds of thoughts.
Confession: I’m having these kinds of thoughts.
I sink farther into the sofa. “Oh boy,” I mutter under my breath. The tightening in my stomach I thought I had gotten rid of comes back with a vengeance.
This is Not Good At All. Lord, what’s happening here?
Someone knocks on the studio door and I yell for them to come in.
A woman with brown hair and green eyes pokes her head in. “Hi, we’re your nine o’clock. Sorry we’re late.” She drags a nice-looking, well-dressed man in behind her.
I stand. “I’m Laurie.”
“I’m Kristen. This is my fiancé, Gordon.”
The speech rolls off my tongue without the use of my brain. “You’ll have three clothing changes . . .”
Meanwhile, my brain is busy. Lord, I’m seriously counting down the days until the fishing trip.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kristen and Gordon leave at ten.
I walk them out and then turn to Hannah, who is nibbling at a Hershey bar while clicking around on the computer.
“Who’s my next appointment?”
She looks down at the calendar. “Um, Ted Crosby and Stacy Hollings.”
I draw a blank. “Do I know them?”
“Well, I don’t.” She grins at me and shrugs. “Not like I would. I think they’re first-timers
, if I remember right.”
I nod. “Oh. At ten?”
“Ten thirty.”
“Okay.” I rub my head. “I’ll be in the studio.”
“Hey,” Hannah says. I turn back around.
“What?”
She gives me a long look. “You okay?”
“Just a headache.”
She raises one eyebrow. “Really.” Her tone does not invoke belief.
“Really.”
“You’re lying.”
“Okay. And I’m tired.”
“You weren’t earlier.”
I sit on one of the chairs with a sigh. “Hannah,” I mumble, massaging my temples.
“Laurie.” She digs into one of her drawers and retrieves a Milky Way. “Here.”
“Thanks.” I don’t open it. “All my life,” I blurt out. “All my life, I never wanted to get married.”
Long pause. “Okay.”
“Never,” I say again, more adamantly. “When I was little, I never pretended that I was a mom or a wife or anything like that.”
Hannah cups her chin in her hands. “What did you pretend?”
“That I was an astronaut or a firefighter or a . . . or a . . . a dog sitter.”
She smiles at the last one. “Laurie? Do you want to get married now?”
I don’t look at her. “Oh boy,” I mutter. Grab the chocolate bar, rip the wrapper off, take three bites, and finally look at her.
Hannah nods. “That’s what I thought. Look, Laur, what’s so bad about that? So you want to get married, so what? It’s not the end of the world.”
I swallow. “You don’t understand, Hannah. I can’t even remember all the times I’ve promised Dad I wouldn’t get married.”
Ruby walks through the door then, shivering. “Hey.”
“Hi, Ruby.” Hannah smiles. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten your ten thirty.”
“No, I just . . . what’s wrong, Laurie?” Her voice is laced with concern. She sits in the chair beside me. “You don’t look well.”
“She’s making a hard confession,” Hannah says.
Ruby puts her hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“Sick at heart, not in body.” Hannah shrugs.
“That sounds very soap-opera-ish,” I say.
“What’s wrong, Honey?” Ruby rubs my back.
I look at Hannah.
“She wants to get married,” Hannah says.
Ruby blinks a few times. “Okay.”
“No, it’s not okay!” I shriek. “Dad would go berserk! He’d be suicidal! Dad would keel over if I left him!”
“Honey, I think you might be overreacting just a little bit.” Ruby keeps rubbing my back while I lean forward, putting my head in my hands. “Who do you want to marry?”
“Tom Cruise,” Hannah answers.
I can almost hear Ruby blinking. She and Ryan have a lot of the same characteristics.
I can’t help it. I smile.
“Well, that . . . might not be what God wants for you,” Ruby says slowly.
I laugh. “Not Tom Cruise.”
“Yes, she does,” Hannah continues to lie. “She sat right there and told me, ‘Hannah, I want to marry Tom Cruise.’” She clutches her hands at her chest and sighs breathily.
I raise my eyebrows to Ruby.
“So then I told her she was daydreaming and to get over it.” Hannah shrugs. “But you know Laurie. She never listens to me.”
“Don’t listen to her, Ruby. She’s lying like a catfish.”
Ruby’s forehead wrinkles. “Like a what?”
“Never mind.”
I can feel my old self reviving. Good old Hannah. I might have to keep that girl around. She’s good for me.
Hannah grins.
“So you’re okay?” Ruby stills her hand on my back.
“I’ll be okay.”
She nods and stands, pulling off her coat. “I’m glad. I’ll be in Studio One, okay?”
Hannah salutes.
“You’re a nutcase, you know?” I tell her as I finish the Milky Way.
“That’s why you love me. Now get to work.”
“Well, fine.” I slink into the studio to clean up after Kristen and Gordon and get it ready for the next client.
Lord, what is with this change? If this is Your purpose for me, could it at least have been a subtle change instead of a sudden one?
I’m waving good-bye to my ten thirty when the phone rings. “Laurie, phone!” Hannah yells even though I stand a foot in front of her.
“Thank you!” I scream back.
Brandon’s office door bangs open. “Girls!” Slams closed again.
Hannah grins. “Check mark for Tuesday!”
I take the cordless phone. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
Ryan.
I go into the studio, away from Hannah and her big ears. “Hi,” I tell him. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I heard you weren’t doing too well though.”
I frown. “From who?”
“Ruby.”
Of course. “I forgot you have an inside connection.”
“Something about you marrying Tom Cruise?”
I grin. “Aw, and I wanted to break it to you easy.”
“Too late. I just called to say, you know, have a nice life and call when you’re in town and maybe we could stay friends.”
I laugh. “Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t want to marry Tom.”
“Oh yeah?” he drawls. “Who do you want to marry?”
“Someone taller.”
He pauses. “Yeah, I can see that. You wouldn’t want him to have to stand on a step every time he wanted to kiss you.”
“Well, I guess that could make marital life interesting.”
“What was really wrong?”
I sigh. “I think I’m growing up.”
“Then you definitely want someone taller.”
“I meant mentally.”
“Don’t tell me. Someone told you Santa Claus wasn’t real, didn’t they? Oh, Honey, I was worried this day would come.”
I sit on the couch, smiling. “He’s not real?” I wail.
“Oh boy.”
“Oh this is just great!” I wave my hand, even though he can’t see me. “One more illusion down the drain!”
Ryan redirects the conversation again. “How are you growing up?”
I purse my lips. “My dreams are changing.”
“Dreams as in nightmares?”
“As in what I want to do with my life.”
“Got it. So?”
I don’t follow. “So?”
“What do you want to do?”
I lean back, picking at the stray threads on the couch. “Get married. Be a mom.”
“Really?” I can’t decipher his voice.
“Yeah.” I’m quiet.
“Laurie, what’s wrong with that? I think it’s great.”
I frown. “You do?”
“Yes, absolutely. Did you not want to before?”
“No. I never wanted to get married. Until recently,” I tack on.
“What happened recently?”
I wave my hand trying to find the words. “I don’t know if I can describe it.”
“Laurie, that’s not the answer.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear me fishing for a compliment there?”
“Now that you mention it, I think it had something to do with this really nice construction worker who brings me coffee.” I grin.
“Much better.” He pauses. “This reminds me of something I read in Proverbs the other day. Chapter 16, verse 9. ‘In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.’”
I’m silent as I contemplate that. “So do you think this is my plan or God’s?” I ask finally.
“I guess time will tell, right? As long as you continue to walk with Him, His plan will become yours.”
“Poetic, Ryan.” I smile.
“Thank you.” I can hear the grin in his voice.
“Hey, want to go out with me tomorrow?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Is a justice of the peace involved?”
I feel myself blush. “No, Ryan. To Vizzini’s. Five o’clock?”
“Why do I get the feeling there is more involved here than just a casual dinner?”
I shrug, picking at the couch again. “I don’t know.”
“Laurie.” He draws my name out. I decide I hate it when people do that.
“Fine. I set your sister up on a blind date.” I flinch, waiting for his reaction.
“My sister. Ruby? You got Ruby to go on a blind date?”
“Well, see —”
“Hey! What about Nick?”
“What about him?” I bite my lip.
“Laurie.”
“I hate it when you say my name like that.”
“What did you do to Nick?”
I’m as vague as I can be. “He . . . might be . . . on another blind date.”
Ryan sighs heavily into the phone. “Let me get this straight. You set Nick up with someone and Ruby up with someone and, just a guess here, they’re both going to Vizzini’s at five, right?”
“You’re good.” I’m very impressed.
“I’ve been around you too long.” He sighs again. “I’m beginning to understand your madness.”
“Will you come? Please?”
“And watch my sister get tortured? Who’d you set her up with anyway?”
“Stephen Weatherby. And don’t worry, she’ll be more repulsed than tortured.”
“Stephen. The guitar guy? Why would she be repulsed? He’s fairly nice looking, isn’t he?”
“Oh. He’s very nice looking,” I say. “That’s a perk to make Nick jealous. Stephen’s in on the Nick and Ruby thing. He’s going to make the date a miniature Pit of Despair.”
He stops for a moment. “What’s your middle name?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Okay, that’s a weird middle name, Lauren I’m Sorry Holbrook. Fitting, however, considering the circumstances.”
I roll my eyes. “Ha ha. It’s Emma.”
“Lauren Emma Holbrook?”
“It was my mom’s name.”
“Oh.” He is quiet for one minute before yelling, “Lauren Emma Holbrook!”
I jump. “What?”
“That’s for the blind dates. And sure, I’ll go to dinner with you.”