by Erynn Mangum
Ryan’s still talking. “So, Laurie, fishing trip starts in about two weeks. Ready for nature?”
I moan like I should be in the ER. “I’m never ready for nature.”
“And I had you pinned as the outdoor type all this time.” He’s trying to hide a smile behind his coffee cup and failing miserably.
I look at him. “You know how long our driveway is?”
“Yeah.”
“I drive down to get the mail sometimes because it’s too long to walk if it’s windy or rainy or hailing or snowing . . .”
“I get the point.”
I wave my hands. “Even if it’s just too sunny, I drive.”
“So I guess talking you into a bicycle ride is pretty fruitless.”
I tip my head. “What’s a bicycle?”
JACK refills my water using both hands. “How’re the salads?”
I grin at him. “Great.”
“Your cake and ravioli should be out in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, JACK,” Ryan says.
I check on Ruby again. She grabs JACK’s apron as he passes and says something to him. He nods.
“Bet she asked for the check.” Ryan licks his fork after finishing his salad.
“Check or an anvil.” I watch them for a second. “I think Stephen should get the Golden Globe this year. It’s hard for someone that gorgeous to be really disgusting.”
JACK sets a black book on the table in front of Stephen. Ruby grabs her purse.
“Poor Ruby,” I say.
Ryan’s watching his sister with a look of pity. “She’ll need therapy after this, you realize.”
“Not therapy. Maybe counseling. Poor Ruby.”
Stephen sets the twenty dollars I gave him on the book and reaches for her hand, which Ruby shoves into her lap. I watch Nick, who is tense enough to look like he’s on the verge of splitting as well.
“Hannah has not stopped talking to breathe for twenty minutes,” Ryan says.
I nod knowingly. “She’s a superhero. She got bit by a genetically altered shark a few years back and developed gills. It’s why she keeps her hair long.”
“Made the swim team, I suppose.”
“You’d better believe it. Oh brother. Duck!”
I grab Ryan’s head and push it onto the table, hiding behind the monster plant probably programmed to eat whomever is stalling dinner near closing time.
“Laurie, I can hold my own head down.”
“Sorry.” I let go of his curly hair.
“What are we doing?” he whispers.
“Ruby stood up. I didn’t want her to see us.”
He starts chuckling, eyes sparkling. “You moved from sharks to duck so fast I figured we were covering marine animals as our dinner conversation.”
“What’s your favorite?” I push my salad bowl out of the way so I can set my chin on the table.
“Sea lions.”
“I like otters.”
He balances his chin on the table as well and grins at me. “I have to say one thing for you, Laurie. My brain has to work faster when you’re around.”
“Thereby prolonging your mental capabilities.” I smile back. “Is she gone?”
He lifts his head a few inches from the table. “Yeah.” He straightens. “She’s gone. Both of them are.”
“Nick too?” I sit up, glancing around.
“Yep.”
JACK appears and sets a gargantuan hunk of cake in front of me and a huge plate of ravioli on the table for Ryan.
Ryan grins as I gratefully dig into the cake. “Eat it quickly, Laur, or we’ll be late to Bible study.”
We drive onto Nick’s street right on time, and Ryan again parks in the dimmest spot he can find.
I stare at him as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. He finally notices I haven’t taken off my seat belt or moved when he opens the door.
“You okay, Laurie?
“You parked in the darkest spot possible.”
He pokes his head outside and looks around. “There’s a streetlight right there.” He points up the street forty miles.
“Yes. Barely glowing.”
“Don’t start with the murderers again. Come on, get out.”
I frown, dubious.
“Get out, Laur. I’ll protect you. I promise. Come on. Please? We’ll be late.”
I unbuckle my seat belt. “We have to run.”
“We’ll run.”
I open the door, shut it, and bolt up the street. I beat him to the front door by a good three yards.
“Didn’t make the track team either, huh?” I ask him, opening the door.
He huffs. “You never yelled go.”
People crowd the tiny entryway, the entire living room, the kitchen, the stairs, and probably the garage. The usual dull roar has been replaced by a four-alarm siren.
Nick needs a bigger house. This is getting ridiculous.
I glimpse a blonde head and a waving hand, figure it’s Hannah, and go that direction.
Slowly.
You know that dream where your house is burning down and you’re running to get out and the floor turns into Jell-O and you are suddenly moving in slow motion?
Ryan grabs the back of my shirt so he won’t get lost, and we slog through the masses.
I try to count the people, but I lose track after thirty-five.
This is a fire hazard.
“Watch it, Laurie!”
I stop and look down. Hannah is on the floor below me. “Hi, Hannah.”
She yells at me. “I found it works to just sit, and then they have no choice but to walk around you!”
“What?” Ryan shouts in my ear.
“We need to sit!” I scream back.
I plop down, land halfway on Hannah, and scoot over just as Ryan sits.
Oof!
I push him off and Hannah leans over. “I’ll tell you about it later!”
“Okay!”
Nick climbs onto the kitchen counter and waves his hands. “EVERYONE FIND A SEAT!”
Ten minutes tick by as people sit on the couch, the stairs, the banister, in the entryway, and in the kitchen.
Nick slides off the counter. “Whew. This is a crowd.”
The aforesaid crowd smiles, nods, agrees.
I crane my head looking for Ruby. She is on the far couch, feet tucked up under her, a kid in a green Adidas shirt and red baseball cap backwards beside her.
She turns in my direction and catches my gaze.
Any thought of a jolly laugh, backslap, and forgetting about the disastrous blind date is immediately obliterated. I feel the optic nerves in my eyeballs singe from the look of pure solder-efficient heat.
Oy.
I grab the back of my hair and elbow Ryan in the ribs as I rip my corneas away. Ryan makes a sound and rubs his chest. I blink repeatedly, making sure I can still see.
Nick makes eye contact next.
I really, really, really wish Ryan had parked closer. The murderers hiding on this street have names I recognize and a motive.
Ryan watches Nick for a second and then leans over. “I would avoid going home for a while. They know where you live.”
“Well, I can’t stay here,” I whine softly.
“I’d stay the night with Hannah.”
“I was thinking somewhere in Brazil.”
“Stephen, take it away,” Nick says, the ice in his voice tempered but not in his gaze as he stares at his friend. He sends me another life-threatening look as he sits on the arm of the couch, next to Ruby.
I hope the teaching tonight is on the merits of forgiveness.
Stephen looks around, slipping his guitar pick in his mouth as he tunes the strings. “Hwey, evewybodwy,” he says around the plastic disk.
He spits the pick out and smiles. “I was looking over the songs I’d chosen for this week and thought the verse on the top of the song sheets really fits the theme.”
Stephen starts strumming softly while the song sheets make their way around the
room.
Ryan takes one look at the reference and starts hacking.
Water wells in my eyes, but I can’t tell if it is from the damage to my optic nerve or from the continued realization that our sovereign God has a sense of humor.
Colossians 3:13.
“‘Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you,’” he reads, gently raking the pick down the strings in the rhythm to the first song.
I drop my head, covering my face, my shoulders shuddering as I suck in my breath, silently laughing.
Hannah makes a weird wheezing noise next to me, and I can feel Ryan shaking.
I peek at Nick and Ruby.
Ruby has a hand over her eyes, and Nick mashes his lips together, trying to cover the smile.
Stephen pauses playing when he finishes reading.
Right then is when Nick bursts.
He snorts loudly. Then he grins, leans forward on his knees, and cries he laughs so hard.
Everyone else in the room stares at him like he finally stacked his last French fry and lost the ketchup.
Ruby keeps her hands over her face, her body trembling, leaning into Nick, which is dangerous because he’s about to fall off the couch and land on the three people squished on the floor below him.
Stephen grins at all five of us and then starts the first song.
When Nick gets up to teach, he’s collected himself.
He teaches for twenty minutes, and the moment he says the final “amen,” the siren-talking starts again and I know one of Nick’s neighbors is going to call the cops.
“Hey, see that girl?” Hannah points through the throng to a short-haired redhead. “I heard her talking beforehand. She just got engaged.”
I nod. “Goody.”
“Guess who her fiancé is?”
“Brad Pitt?” I suggest.
Hannah ignores me. “Her UPS delivery man. That paints a picture, doesn’t it? Want to know how he proposed?”
“He didn’t ship her the ring, did he?” I look at Hannah. “Oh good grief, he did.”
She’s laughing. “Hysterical, isn’t it?”
“That’s just plain corny.”
She grins at Ryan. “Think you’ll propose with a hard hat?”
“Better.” He smiles broadly. “I’m planning on the ring being made from a nail.”
I make a face. “Yuck.”
“Not a used nail,” he says.
“It would rust! Your wife would end up with an orange ring finger.”
“Yeah,” Hannah joins in. “And then she’d get lead poisoning.”
“Or something worse,” I say. “And then you’d have mutated children.”
Ryan sighs. “One more fantasy down the drain.”
“There’s chocolate in the kitchen, Honey.” I pat his shoulder. “That might help.”
“On my way.” He stands with difficulty and squeezes in the general direction of the kitchen.
I look at Hannah. “What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything to Ryan.”
“You know exactly who I mean.”
She smiles coyly. “A good girl never tells her secrets.”
“Hannah, a good girl doesn’t have secrets.”
She starts shaking her head. “Not true! Sleeping Beauty had a secret, and she was good.”
“Sleeping Beauty didn’t know she had a secret.” I twirl a chunk of hair around my finger. “I wonder if she ever went near a spinning wheel again?”
“I don’t know, Laurie. But if I had to guess, I would bet she didn’t end up with a career as a cloth maker.” I frown. “Quilter, right?”
“I think the term would be a weaver. Or maybe a textile creator?” A pair of hose-clad legs stops in front of me. “Hello, girls.” I grimace at Hannah and then smile sweetly to Ruby. “Hi.” “Hey, Ruby.” Hannah also wears an innocent expression, blue eyes Bambi-like.
Ruby crosses her arms over her chest and taps one heel. “And what do you have to say?”
I tip my head at her. “Are people who use spinning wheels called weavers or spinners or textile persons?”
She closes her eyes. “Don’t know why I bother.” She turns to leave. “And they are called textile manufacturers.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I step through the newly cleaned glass door of The Brandon Knox Photography Studio at exactly 8:57 and smile brightly at Ruby, who leans up against the desk with a What-Have-You-to-Say-for-Yourself? look on her pretty face. She’s doing a new thing with her eye makeup — a little eyeliner, mascara, and some shimmery shadow that really set off her brown eyes.
“Good morning, Ruby Fair.” I set a tray filled with coffee cups on the desk and shed my coat. I hand her one of the cups.
“Unbelievable. You are completely unbelievable, Lauren Holbrook.”
“I don’t know why. I gave you the black coffee, right?” I check the other two.
“This is to pacify me.” She waves the coffee in my face.
“Why in the world would I give someone caffeine to pacify them? If I were trying to pacify you, I would have given you something sweet.” I lay my backpack on the desk and pull out a paper sack from Merson’s. “Chocolate-covered strawberry?”
She sips the coffee, rolling her eyes. “Fine. You owe me.”
I concede with a nod. “I know.”
“More than just a strawberry and a cup of coffee. Even though this is a really good cup of coffee.”
“It’s Shawn’s.”
She turns the cup around in her hands. “It says Merson’s on here.”
“One and the same.” I hand her the paper sack. “Two strawberries.”
She takes a bite out of one, then sets both the coffee and the strawberry on the desk, rubbing her hands together businesslike. “Now that I’m calmer, we can discuss your payment.”
I sit meekly in one of the chairs. “Twenty dollars a week for the next six weeks?”
“Honey, that doesn’t even scratch the surface.”
“Oh come on, Ruby, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Laurie, he seems like a nice enough guy at Bible study. But he talked for forty-five minutes about his dog’s sinus problems! Forty-five minutes! In disgusting detail! Over dinner!” She’s making a gagging face.
“Ruby —”
She starts pacing. “I was sitting there staring at the cheese dripping down my lasagna as he talked about a big mucus blockage! It was gross! I’m never eating lasagna again!”
“Would an all-expense-paid date with Nick make up for it?”
She stops mid-rant. “What?”
Hannah comes through the door.
“Hey, Laur. Hey, Ruby.” She sets her purse down and notices the extra coffee. “For me?”
“Yep.” I look back at Ruby. “What were you saying?”
Ruby’s staring slack-jawed at Hannah, who looks amazing in a cerulean sparkly top and brown cords. “How come I got Stephen, who was gross and disgusting, and Nick got Hannah?”
Hannah sips her coffee. “You don’t know what I talked about.”
Ruby’s shaking her head so hard her curls take flight. “It couldn’t have been worse than my conversation.”
“What did you talk about?” I ask Hannah.
“Flies.”
“Flies?” Ruby and I repeat together.
“Yeah.” She sips her coffee again. “Did you know that flies develop from an egg to an adult in seven to fourteen days? And since they’re usually bred in manure, they carry diseases like typhoid or diarrhea?”
Ruby quits drinking her coffee. “I was wrong.”
“Don’t tell me you researched for this dinner,” I say.
Hannah nods happily.
“Geek,” I accuse her.
Brandon comes through the door, slinging his coat over his shoulder.
“It works better if you wear it,” Hannah tells him.
“Thanks, Mom. How’d the dates go?” He slings a
n arm around Ruby’s shoulders. She glares at him. “That well, huh?” Brandon asks.
“It was horrible! Absolutely horrible! If all men are like that —”
“Nick’s not,” I put in.
“I’m marrying Nick, then,” Ruby declares.
“You are?” I grin.
She stops, her face turning a brilliant burgundy color. “Well, if he asks.”
Hannah looks at me. “So I guess we have a new project, Laur.”
“Don’t even think about it, girls.”
Brandon nods, his arm still around Ruby. “Yeah. Don’t even think about it.”
“Hey, let go of her, you womanizer.” I swat his hand. “What if Nick walks in? Want him to get the wrong idea?”
Ruby blushes. “Laurie.”
“Ruby, you know I’d love to chat with you, but my nine fifteen is here. What are the odds?”
“You are one lucky dame,” Brandon says in admiration.
The Steeles come in. “Thank goodness it’s warm in here,” Mrs. Steele says.
My stomach growls as I wave good-bye to my twelve thirty. They run to their car and jump in, probably cranking on the heater.
A pickup pulls into the parking lot and I grin. Ryan.
He comes through the door a moment later. His hair is squooshed underneath a backwards baseball cap, he’s got sawdust caked into the creases on his boots, and he obviously didn’t shave this morning. I have to smile.
“Hey, Hannah! I’ve got a live one!” I yell.
Hannah steps out from Studio One. “Hi, Ryan. Sorry about her. She had Coco-Odies for breakfast this morning.”
Ryan grimaces as he looks at me. “Coco-Odies?”
“With two extra scoops of sugar.” I hold up my fingers like a preschooler to show him.
The grimace hasn’t left his face. “Do I want to take her to lunch, Hannah?”
“Please. Then you can deal with her.”
“Hey! Let’s both step to our neutral corners,” I tell her.
She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “Mine got eaten by Herman.”
I peer behind her. It’s true. The massive bouquet of white lilies, red roses, and more baby’s breath than you see in a hundred nurseries was delivered this morning with a card, which Ruby did not let Hannah and me see. Quite distressing. In rebuttal, we named the monstrosity Herman.
Ruby was not amused.