At least, I hope You do.
She pulled out her journal and flipped to a clean page. As a kid, whenever she had to make a tough decision, she’d list the pros and cons. That didn’t seem appropriate now. Instead, she closed the pages and returned the book to her tote. Moving to rest her back on an adjacent tree, feet propped on the log, she closed her eyes.
Lord, why do I feel so unsettled? It shouldn’t be this way.
Not if she was truly in love. Nervous, maybe, but not so . . . uncertain. Full of doubts.
What did love feel like anyway? According to her mom, it came in with a whoosh and left you heady and all fluttery inside. For a time, until another whoosh came along.
If that was love, Ainsley wanted nothing to do with it. Even so, she wanted more than . . . than . . . whatever this was she had going on with Richard. Things felt so strained lately, like she was trying to go one way and he was holding her back. Trying to force her into a mold she’d never quite fit.
A year ago, she thought she could; desperately wanted to. She’d even looked forward to being a psychiatrist’s wife with country club membership, high-society gatherings, and charity functions. To a life of stability, predictability. But now . . . ?
Voices drifted toward her, followed by the slow shuffle of approaching feet. She glanced up to see an older couple walking hand in hand. The man, bald except for fluffs of hair around the base of his skull and ears, held a walking stick. The woman was hunched over with what appeared to be osteoporosis. They were both wrinkled and gray, and obviously very happy. Happy and in love.
It was a love she saw often on Sunday mornings, when couples came together to worship their risen Savior. It was a love she’d never seen growing up, not in her home anyway.
No, what her parents had was something entirely different. She didn’t know what it was, exactly, but she knew with certainty what it wasn’t.
Then again, neither of them were Christian. She thought of the passage she’d read the day before and a sense of apprehension swept over her.
Lord, what are You trying to tell me? Please make it clear; help me to understand Your perfect wisdom.
She grabbed her Bible from her tote bag and opened it to 2 Corinthians 6, marked by an index card tucked between the pages.
She read the passage again, then again, the words unbeliever and darkness standing out to her. Once again, she got the sense that God was trying to tell her something.
Why did Richard come to mind whenever she read that passage? He went to church, most Sundays. Come to think of it, he’d never been terribly regular about it. In fact, he hadn’t been in some time, and he wasn’t involved in a men’s group of any kind. Then again, neither were half the men in the church. That certainly didn’t mean they weren’t saved.
But she wasn’t concerned with all the other men. She was, however, incredibly concerned with her fiancé’s faith. Where did he stand spiritually?
Maybe she was making way too much out of this verse, but the prick in her heart told her otherwise.
Ugh! She couldn’t think about this anymore, not today. It was driving her crazy.
She needed some Gina time, and lots and lots of chocolate. Grabbing her phone, she dialed her friend’s number. Unfortunately, she got her voice mail.
“Hey, girl. So, I’m sort of having a bridentity crisis here. Could use a laugh. Call me.”
Later that evening, Ainsley sank into her couch, feet tucked under her, a warm cup of tea in hand. The doorbell chimed. She answered it to find Gina standing on the other side, filled paper bag in her arms. “Wow! So, who’s the hottie?”
Ainsley rose on the balls of her feet and glanced across the yard. Dressed in exercise gear and running shoes, Chris stretched beneath a pale streetlight. He looked up and grinned. She offered a brisk wave then dashed back inside.
“Ah, so you’ve noticed then.” Gina’s eyes danced with laughter. She walked to the kitchen.
Ainsley followed. “I’ve done nothing of the sort. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m engaged.” She held up her hand, the sun catching her diamond, reflecting in rainbow colors.
Gina set her bag on the counter and began to unload it. Two movie rentals, a box of brownie mix, eggs, butter. “Oh, yes, how could I forget the reason I’m here?” She shot Ainsley a wink. “So, what’s with this identity—excuse me—bridentity crisis?” She paused with her hand still in the bag then pulled it out and shoved the package aside. Turning to lean against the side wall, she crossed her arms. “Spill it, girl.”
Ainsley sighed and pushed her hair from her face. She relayed the passage she’d read over a half dozen times. “I can’t shake the feeling that God’s trying to tell me something.”
“I’d agree.”
Ainsley waited for Gina to elaborate, not that she needed to. Her friend had made her feelings regarding the engagement clear on numerous occasions. Up to now, Ainsley had chalked that up to overprotection or maybe a resistance to change, but now she wasn’t so sure. “Oh, Gina, this is all so confusing. I’ll admit, he’s been acting like a royal jerk, but he’s got a lot going on, you know?”
Gina pulled herself up on the counter, sitting so her legs dangled over the edge.
Ainsley moved to a kitchen chair and flopped into it. “No one, no relationship, is perfect.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So when does one overlook faults and persevere, show patience, and when is it time to walk away?”
“You want my honest answer? Because I say you should’ve walked away years ago.”
“My biggest question is, why am I feeling all this now? I mean, we’ve been together for five years! Surely that means something.”
“Yeah, it means you’re more loyal than my mom’s St. Bernard. But you know what they say about displaced loyalty, right?”
“No, what?”
“Yeah, neither do I. But what I do know is that once he slips that ring on your finger, it’ll be too late.”
Ainsley traced her finger along the edge of the counter. This conversation—thinking about her engagement in general—made her anxious, and that concerned her greatly.
Ready for a subject change, she grabbed the DVD and flipped it over. “What’s all this?”
“Girl’s night out at the Meadows’, large amounts of chocolate included.” She pulled a bowl from the cupboard and set it on the counter. “You know, maybe you two should go to premarital counseling.”
“He won’t go. Says we don’t need it, him being a psychiatrist and all.”
“And I, and Pastor Leoffold, say you do.” Gina faced Ainsley head on. “You need to be absolutely sure you’re making the right decision, because you only walk down the aisle once.”
“Unless you’re my mom.”
Gina laughed. “Ouch! True, but ouch just the same.”
“Although, in her defense, at least she ditches before the vows, most of the time, anyway. A habit I appear to be mimicking.”
“Double ouch.” Gina dipped her finger into the brownie mix and stuck it in her mouth.
Ainsley copied her. “But enough about my love life. Let’s get to eating.”
“Absolutely! Because you know what they say, all work, no play makes for a very boring Ainsley.” She bopped Ainsley’s hip with her own then glanced out the window, head angled slightly. “Of course, we could always pack a picnic and head to that biking trail down the street.”
“Oh, no. Crafting and baking is fine.” She poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the kitchen table.
Gina moved to the window and raised on her toes. “Oh, look! Here comes your ‘adorably cute in a ruggedly masculine way’ neighbor now.” She grinned. “You won’t mind if I get to know Mr. Hottie with the California plates, will you?”
“You’ve been checking him out, have you? Already stalked out where he’s from?” She lowered her eyebrows in mock rebuke then flicked her hand. “Have at him, my dear.”
“Great! Let’s see if I can’t dish out a bit of that sout
hern charm Gramma Zoe used to feed us.”
“You, a Southerner?”
“It’s not in the location, my friend, but in the presentation.” Gina batted her lashes. “Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done.” She grabbed Ainsley’s elbow, dragged her outside, and to the end of the sidewalk. Chris approached, half-jogging, half-walking, his dog slumping behind him.
He stopped at the curb and offered a lopsided grin. “Hey, there.”
“Hi, I’m Gina. And single.”
Chris’s eyes widened and Ainsley’s cheeks flushed hot. She pinched Gina’s arm.
“Ouch!”
Ainsley cleared her throat. “Please excuse my friend. She doesn’t get out much.” She glanced at the dog sprawled on the ground, panting. “I take it your friend here wasn’t up for the run?”
“He made it about three blocks, poor guy. I should probably let him stay home, but—”
“Yeah, I know, use it or lose it.” Ainsley smiled.
Gina elbowed Ainsley’s side who countered with a warning glare.
“We better get going.”
“Right,” Gina said. “To cook those brownies. We’d love to bring you a sample, if you like chocolate.”
“I love it.” He gave a thumbs-up sign.
“Perfect.” Her eyes sparkled. “Come over in about a half hour.”
Ainsley glared at Gina, but she waited until they were well out of earshot to unload. “What were you thinking? Chris can’t come over! What would that look like?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m an engaged woman. I can’t have strange men in my house. What would Richard think?” She threw open her front door and stomped inside.
“So invite him.” Gina followed half a step behind. “Oh, I forgot, Mr. Suit and Tie is at a formal function. Maybe next time.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s a great idea! Let’s do a double date. Like next Friday. How does that sound?”
Ainsley spun around. “You’re kidding, right?”
The twinkle in Gina’s eyes betrayed her innocent smile. “Yeah, it’d be great. You and your beau, and me with my newfound hottie. Like the Three Musketeers, only with four.” She grabbed the box of brownie mix and studied the baking time on the back. “Now let’s see about getting this batch of hip-increasers done just right.”
“Gina rose, what am I going to do with you?”
Gina looped her arm through Ainsley’s and gave a squeeze. “Just love me, my dear. Just love me.”
Chris chuckled as he watched the girls leave. Gina nearly skipped behind Ainsley who walked briskly with shoulders squared, arms swinging at her sides. Those two were interesting, to say the least. He turned to Rusty. “Something tells me I’m in for quite an evening, old boy.” His stomach rumbled. “And a tasty one at that.”
Taking the steps two at a time, he opened the front door and waited for Rusty to lumber through. A slight bounce marked his step as he made his way to his bedroom and a rather large basket of unwashed clothing. He lifted his arm and sniffed, nose crinkling.
Rusty slid to the floor, his head resting on his front paws, sappy eyes following Chris’s every move.
“So, you think I’ve got time for a shower and a load of wash?” He glanced at the clock. “Shower, yes. Laundry?” He moved to a stack of boxes and pulled out a wrinkled shirt. “Which would be better, a stinky old, coffee-splattered work shirt, or one creased in the shape of an octagon?” He dug deeper in the box until he found a pair of jeans then set both on the dresser. “Octagon and stiff jeans it is, old boy. But the real question is, why do I care?”
On second thought, maybe it’d be best not to go at all.
No, he said he’d be there. A man needed to honor his word, right?
About thirty minutes later, he stood on Ainsley’s front steps ringing her doorbell. Gina answered right away. Ainsley followed a few steps behind, cheeks pink, likely from standing over a hot oven. The hint of a smile graced her delicate features, adding sparkle to her green eyes.
He shifted and glanced from one girl to the next. Perhaps he misunderstood? Oh, brother, now he looked like an idiot. An idiot in an octagon shirt.
“Come in!” Gina flung open the door and moved aside.
Chris smiled and stepped forward, inhaling the sweet scent of freshly baked chocolate mixed with cinnamon. A red candle burned on the coffee table next to three tiered books.
Ainsley paused, palms pressed together. Her mouth quivered as if she wanted to speak, but then she dashed back into the kitchen.
“Have a seat. Make yourself at home.” Gina cupped her hand around his elbow and guided him to a cream-colored sofa. “Do you like to read?” She picked up a book and studied the cover—Real Women, Real Issues, Unreal Faith—then set it down. “What do you want to watch?” She turned on the television. A maxi-pad commercial came on. After flipping through four channels, she handed him the remote. “Here. I’m going to see if Ainsley needs help.” She darted out of the room.
Chris leaned against the leather cushions and propped an ankle on his knee. Nice place, comfortable yet classic with earth toned furniture, candleholders on the mantel, and a vase of dried foliage. Pictures, some of people and others of country landscapes, decorated the walls and two end tables. He surveyed the earth-toned furniture and scanned the pictures lining the end tables and mantel.
Muffled voices drifted down the hall, followed by giggling. He leaned sideways, trying to make out the words.
“You can’t just leave him out there.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? You invited him. Go entertain him.”
“I will, as soon as I pop the popcorn.”
The steady hum of a microwave followed by rapidly popping kernels muffled the rest of their conversation. Chuckling, Chris turned his attention to the television. If nothing else, he could catch a few minutes of ESPN. No small blessing, considering his cable wouldn’t be hooked up for another week.
Ainsley walked into the living room holding two DVDs in her hand. “So, The Heart of Sisterhood or True Love Waits?”
Gina followed with a plate of steaming brownies and a mammoth bowl of popcorn. “Sorry about the movie choices, but . . .
“We weren’t expecting company.” She shot Gina a glare then turned back to Chris, her face softening. “Not that I mind, of course.”
“Of course.” Chris planted both feet on the ground and cracked his finger knuckles. Could this get any more awkward? Maybe it was time to find a polite way to excuse himself.
“So?” Ainsley stepped closer, carrying the soft scent of lavender. Her eyes were a deep green, the irises encircled by a faint brown.
Chris looked from her to Gina. “Whatever you ladies prefer. I’m just here to taste the brownies, remember?”
Ainsley blushed and lowered her lashes. Gina set the brownies and popcorn onto the coffee table and plopped onto the couch next to Chris. He shifted left, realizing much too late that he had positioned himself in the center of the couch, leaving Ainsley only one place to sit. If she wanted to be able to see the television anyway.
“Take a seat already.” Gina grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Or are you going to stand there all day.”
Chris suppressed his mirth as Ainsley shot her friend yet another piercing glare. Poor girl. If he had any manners at all, he’d leave and put her out of her misery. Instead, he scooted to the edge of the couch and offered what he hoped to be a friendly, nonthreatening smile.
Ainsley set the movies down and perched on the edge of the cushion. “How about we play a game instead?”
Gina sprang to her feet, her thick, auburn hair swooshing across her shoulders. “Good idea! I’ll get On a Dare.”
Ainsley’s eyes widened. “On second thought, talking is good. Chris, are you enjoying Kansas City?”
“Minus the thunderstorms and rapidly plummeting temperatures, yes, I am. Thanks for asking.”
Gina sat on the couch and pulled a leg to her chest. She rested he
r chin on her knee and angled her head in Chris’s direction. “That’s right. You’re from California, aren’t you?”
Chris raised his eyebrows. Apparently they’d done some digging, Sherlock Holmes style. Flattering, even if a bit creepy.
Ainsley folded her hands in her lap and straightened her spine, the pink hue in her cheeks deepening. “Your license plates.”
“Right.” He grabbed a brownie, tore off the corner, and popped it in his mouth. “So, what about you ladies? Are you both from here?”
Gina shook her head. “I’m from Michigan, although I’ve been here long enough to wear the native badge with honor.” She giggled. “But Ainsley is.”
“Third generation Chiefs fan.” Hugging a throw pillow, Ainsley leaned back.
Chris smiled. Nice to see her relax a bit. Now he needed to make sure he didn’t say anything to throw her back into that shell of hers.
“What brought you to Kansas City?” Golden hair framed her face like a halo.
Looking away, he cleared his throat. “My mom. She has early-onset alzheimer’s. I wanted to be closer to her, to make sure she gets the care she needs. And to try to fix some of the damage those college kids did to the house.”
Ainsley’s brow furrowed. “Are you planning on selling it?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” An image of a scowling Matilda came to mind. He blinked it away, and the surge of bitterness it aroused. “But enough about me. So, Ainsley, what do you do?”
“I’m a pharmaceutical rep for Voltex.”
“That’s interesting. You don’t strike me as a saleswoman.”
“She’s not a very good one, that’s for sure.” Gina tossed a popcorn kernel at her friend.
“Ainsley’s about as outgoing as a turtle on a stormy day.”
She shot her friend a glare. “Aren’t you the clever one?” She shrugged. “But she’s right, the job has required a bit more sugar-shoveling than I anticipated, which is why I’m hoping to go back to school, as soon as finances and my schedule allows.”
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