Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  Shame burned her cheeks to think how she’d succumbed to his advances. He’d taken advantage of her inexperience. He’d wrapped her around his little finger, while she blindly turned her eyes from the truth. No matter how much outsider’s blood she possessed, she was a Mennonite at heart, and she could never fit in or feel at ease with him. He must never have intended for their relationship to be permanent. It had all been a game with him. For if he loved her, he wouldn’t have taken her into the sky without a parachute.

  She recalled the conversation where she’d confided in him about her nonresistant beliefs. He’d scoffed, putting down Mennonite men. Now she understood that he’d only probed into her beliefs so that he could skirt around them. He intentionally kept his military past a secret.

  She clasped her head, shaking with anger so that she couldn’t focus on anything but the man who’d played her like a fool. Pushing back her chair, she strode to his door. She squared her shoulders and knocked.

  Come in.”

  Megan stepped into the room and gave the door a shove. It banged behind her. As she stood trembling, Chance’s eyes went from surprised to wary.

  “Megan?”

  She strode to his desk and speared him with her furious gaze. “When were you going to tell me that you were a fighter pilot?”

  His eyes closed and fluttered opened, filled with regret. “That was a long time ago. I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “I don’t believe that. You knew it mattered. You purposely deceived me.”

  Chance rose and came around his desk. Megan jerked away from his touch. His hand moving upward in appeal, he explained, “When we first met, I thought we were like night and day. But the more we worked together, the more we connected. And lately, it seemed that we might be able to meet somewhere in the middle and actually have a wonderful future together. I was only taking it one day at a time. Just like you were.”

  An image of rows of red x’s flashed into Megan’s mind. With it came the idea that he’d been bored, using her to while away his time. She pushed him aside and ripped off the top page of his calendar. She crumpled it with her dreams and flung it at him. “That’s what I think of your one day at a time!”

  The wad hit his chest and bounced onto the floor. Chance stared at it then looked back at her. “Whoa. You’re way too angry to think clearly. You need to cool down.”

  “I won’t be deceived.”

  His hands went up in appeal. “Look. I meant it when I said I dream of us together making a happy life in Ecuador.”

  Happy when she let go of her beliefs and blended in with him and his lifestyle. “You knew I didn’t want to date you. But you pursued me anyway. You took advantage of me because I work here. I’d no place to go to get away from you, and you were relentless. You wouldn’t take no for an answer. What kind of boss is that?”

  “When you say it that way, it sounds bad.” He shrugged and gave her a contrite smile. “I couldn’t help it. You’re irresistible.”

  “That’s sick. Just admit it. It was only a game for you.”

  “All right. Maybe at first I was curious. But I fell for you.” He touched her again, and she was too exhausted to pull away from his pathetic appeal. “You make it sound as though we’re finished. We can work through this, just as we have every other difference. This is no game, Megan. It doesn’t matter if I made mistakes getting to this place. Now we’re talking about our future life together.”

  “Futures are built upon honesty and respect. You played a dangerous game. Couldn’t you see that there would be no winners?”

  “There aren’t any rules with love.”

  “Tell me, Chance. Have you changed since you were in the air force? Are you now nonresistant?”

  “I won’t lie to you, I’m not. But yes, I’ve changed. That’s why I resigned from the military and use my career to save lives instead of to kill. We’re both Christians, and we can disagree on a few things. People do that, you know.”

  He had killed. Even if she could forget that, given their personalities, she’d be the one who’d always have to adapt. The fight went out of her. She took a calming breath. “Look. I respect what you’re doing with your life now. But today’s broken the spell and opened my eyes. I see you differently. I know that going to Ecuador with you won’t make me happy.” She shrugged. “I’ve been starry eyed for a long time. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Meg, honey. You’re just emotional. Don’t say anything more until you’ve had time to really think about this. It’s not about who we were then, but who we are now. Together. We make a great team.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. We aren’t a team. We’re finished.”

  “Two weeks. Don’t decide yet.” The irresistible charmer now came across as a spoiled, begging child.

  She thought about how she’d threatened Micah she’d call in the church elders if he didn’t quit pursuing her. It seemed childish, too, but it was proof that she could have resisted Chance. She had chosen to encourage his advances. If anything, she had courted a dream. “I’m sorry I led you on.” She pulled away from his touch and stepped away. “I was wrong to give you hope.”

  He shook his head and advanced. “I’m not letting you go.”

  “Then I’ll go to my desk and write Randy my resignation.” She started to go.

  “Wait.”

  She hesitated, her shoulders sagging.

  He released a loud sigh. “You’re really serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t resign. You stay, and I’ll go.”

  “What about Char Air? And what about Randy?”

  “I won’t stay here and pretend to ignore you and your pious little net cap. Now get out before I change my mind.”

  Stung, Megan lifted her chin and marched out of his office. She sank into her chair, sick to her stomach, waiting for his door to fly open again. She expected him to storm past and make a dramatic departure. What would Randy say when he found out that she’d chased his replacement away? Would the cruise get canceled? Would she lose her job, anyway, because she’d caused such a fiasco?

  But when the door finally opened, Chance emerged looking repentant, without his briefcase. He perched on the corner of her desk, squashing her imaginary plant and looking at her as if it was business as usual.

  Megan tensed, hoping he wasn’t going to beg.

  Lines tugged the corners of his mouth down, and even his voice sank. “You go home. Take a couple sick days. Come back on Thursday, and I’ll be gone.”

  Her mind leaped at the opportunity to escape, but his kindness flung a shackle of guilt around her ankles. “I really do feel sick.”

  He rose into a stance that made her wonder how she could have missed his military background. “The war changed me. You changed me, too.”

  “We’ve both changed.” She lowered her gaze and heard him walk away.

  With a burst of adrenalin, she moved toward flight. In a few strokes, she tidied her desk and grabbed her purse. On the way out, she told the receptionist that she felt ill and was going home. “Chance said he’d take care of things for me.”

  “Take care of yourself, honey.”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m doing.”

  Micah had just stepped outside his cottage to exercise the cat when he noticed Megan’s Nova pull into the drive. His brow furrowed, thinking it wasn’t like her to come home in the middle of the day. When she got out of the car with a lowered gaze and sagging shoulders, it confirmed his suspicions that something terrible had happened. He darted across the yard toward her.

  “Megan?”

  She stopped, looked up in confusion, staring at him with vacant, red-rimmed eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged, and pain replaced the emptiness in her eyes. “I just came to my senses.” He could only hope she was referring to the pilot. Her gaze flitted briefly over to the kitchen window. Sensing she didn’t want her mom watching them, he nudged her elbow. “Come with me.” He guided he
r around the front of the house past the porch to the buckeye tree that would shield them from public view. “Megan?”

  “I broke it off with Chance. I found out that he had an entire past that he’d kept secret from me.”

  Images of a wife and family back in Ecuador came to Micah’s mind. He had an un-Christian urge to place his hands around the man’s arrogant neck, but instead he tried to remain calm.

  “He had a military career. He was a fighter pilot.”

  “Hmph.” That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. But it didn’t surprise him. Although they were nonresistant, Micah didn’t think Chance’s military career was that shocking. She’d known all along that he was a man with feet firmly planted in the outside world. Micah wondered why, in her mind, his military career overshadowed his current mission work? And then it hit him, it was the timing of the deception, so soon after her mom’s disclosure.

  “He kept it from me. And I had dreams of marrying him. But when I heard that, I realized he’d manipulated me. I let him draw me away from my faith. I set my heart in the wrong place. What was I thinking, Micah?”

  “We’ve been praying for God to reveal His will to you.”

  “I know. But it doesn’t make this any less painful. I wanted him.”

  Her confession cut through the freshly laid scars of his never-healing heart, but he gently kneaded her shoulders and whispered, “I’m sorry.” And when she eased into his arms, he comforted her, placing his chin on the top of her golden-spun hair. He closed his eyes to their merging pain. They both ached because they loved somebody they couldn’t have.

  “He told me to take some sick days. When I go back to work, he’ll be gone.” She clutched his shirt and mumbled, “I’m sorry I keep crying all over you.”

  He drank in her citrus scent. “I understand.”

  She released him. “Thanks.”

  He wiped her tears with his finger. “I admire your strength and determination to do the right thing.”

  She squeezed his hand and stepped away. “Thanks. I gotta go.” Then she brushed past him and went into the house. Feeling exasperated, he stared at the door. The cat mewed. He looked down and scooped up the feline. Why do I want her when she only wants him? I’m such a fool.

  Later that evening, Megan poised her pen thoughtfully.

  Thank You, Lord, for revealing that Chance is not the man for me and Ecuador is not the place You want me to go. It hurts, but I accept it.

  She scanned her other prayer requests and added:

  1. Heal my pain.

  2. Direction for my job at Char Air.

  3. Healing for Chance.

  She set her journal aside to read from her Bible, pausing at Job 17. Verses 11 and 12 jumped out at her. “My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart. They change the night into day: the light is short because of darkness.” It was so similar to Micah’s quote: “When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Micah pulled his blue Honda Civic into Big Darby’s parking lot. Sometime during the night, he’d realized that Megan’s crying all over him had been a good thing this time. It’d been the last and final straw, opening his eyes to reality. Sure he was glad that she’d finally made the right choice. But the depth of Megan’s feelings for the pilot had created an impenetrable wall. It was time he realized she was still inside the walled fortress of her own making, desperately needing to heal. Micah had been prowling and pacing around its perimeters, ever since the Fourth of July parade, waiting for a breach. It was sickening. Disgusting. It needed to stop. And it would.

  He stepped out of his car and strode purposefully to the church building. He resolved to give his job the priority it deserved. He opened the door and moved down the hall. If he didn’t confront Joy Ann, then he was treating her no better than Chance had treated Megan. He’d face the situation head-on and wouldn’t be soft. She’d survive rejection. He was living proof it wasn’t a fatal disease.

  Inside the secretary was already busy at her desk. He was positive that Joy Ann had started arriving early merely to create a private time with him before Ruthie’s arrival. Today that worked in his favor. He paused at her desk. “Morning, Joy Ann.”

  “Hi, Brother Micah. I guess you don’t want to see yesterday’s bank deposit slip?”

  “You’re right about that. My job doesn’t require knowledge of church finances.”

  “I can see that, but—”

  “But you don’t like change?”

  “I thought I did. But I guess I fell into the same mind trap as everybody else.”

  He saw that as his opening. “You’re just trying to do a good job.”

  She involuntarily dusted her phone buttons with her fingertips. “Thanks.”

  “Sometimes you even go beyond what’s expected. Take, for instance, how you always come to the office early.”

  Her face glowing, she explained, “I like to get things set up before Ruthie arrives.”

  “I understand, but I need to ask you not to do that anymore.”

  “What? But why?”

  “This is a little awkward for me. It’s because it doesn’t look good for us to be here alone together.”

  Misinterpreting his caution light for a green one, she fingered the edge of her caped bodice. “I suppose it wouldn’t do for people to start talking about us, especially before you hire on for good.”

  “Exactly. People might get the idea that you and I have something going, even though we don’t.” Joy’s face reddened, whether with embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t be sure yet. “I have a one-track mind right now. Focused on my work, you understand.”

  “Oh.” He saw that she didn’t understand. And she wasn’t going to let it drop until she pushed him for more clarity. “So for now, we should …” She looked up at him with frustration.

  “Joy Ann. There’s no we.”

  She blinked furiously.

  “I want to keep things strictly business at work, and outside of work, I’m not looking for more than friendship with you.”

  Her lower lip drooped for a second before her eyes darkened into stormy slits. She pushed back from her desk and stood. She planted her hands on her hips. “Just because I’m nice to you, doesn’t mean I have my cap set for you. Preacher or not, I think you’re a little big for your britches.”

  “Maybe I was out of line. But when we were playing checkers, I got the distinct feeling that—”

  Her hand flew up. “Just stop. Just—” Her voice broke.

  Micah touched her arm. “You’re a great secretary.”

  Joy Ann lunged at him, burying her face against his shirt and slipping her hands tight around his waist. Micah froze. Not again. Did every woman think he was their weeping pole? He must be the only preacher who got himself in these scrapes. Joy Ann shuddered. He glanced toward the hall, wishing he’d closed the door, yet that would’ve been even more inappropriate. And what he saw in the doorway made him cringe and quickly pry Joy Ann’s arms from his waist. Susanna Schlagel was staring at them with astonishment and pursed lips.

  The next morning, Megan strolled through her mom’s flower garden, pausing to enjoy the rugosa roses that were blooming after the third or fourth flush of the season. After crying on Micah’s shoulder the previous evening then telling Mom the entire story, she’d spent hours alone in her room engaged in prayer and contemplation. Now she was positive that she’d done the right thing by ending it with Chance.

  She also felt strangely tranquil in the certainty that God would guide her in the days ahead. She set down her weed pail and placed her gloved hands on her hips. Despite her lingering grief, she was unable to ignore the way the honeysuckle danced against its white trellis. She caught the scent of lavender and vowed that when she had her own home, she would plant a garden like this one. The scents and colors were healing to the soul. She envisioned imaginary conversations with her mom, comparing techniques and varieties. She followed the flight of a butt
erfly, amazed that she’d been so willing to exchange all that she was familiar with for an outsider’s jungle.

  Her mom had urged her to spend the morning in the flower beds, acting like they needed urgent care, but she’d known it was a ploy to cheer her. Megan’s gaze lifted farther out to the big garden with its routine upkeep, which was now focused on tomato worms, squash borers, and flea beetles in the eggplant. As precarious as their relationship had become this summer, Mom remained kind and giving.

  Pushing back her long hair, still wet from her shower, Megan knelt and began picking faded flowers and seed pods and ungainly stems, tossing them with soft thuds into a metal pail. As she worked, she began to hum the chorus of “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” She snapped off some ungainly stems and moved farther down the row, when unexpectedly an exuberant male tenor provided words to her tune: “ ‘All I have needed Thy hand hath provided, great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.’ I need that assurance right now, too.”

  Smiling, she paused from her work to look over her shoulder. “You have a nice voice.”

  “And you have a pleasant hum.”

  Megan softly laughed. “Hardly. But what are you doing back from church so soon?”

  He knelt down. “It was too awkward at the office after my talk with Joy Ann.”

  “Oh. How did she take it?”

  “At first it was hard for her to accept.”

  “She got angry?”

  “Yes. She cried. But worse than that, she latched onto me just as Susanna Schlagel showed up at the office.”

  “Latched onto me”? Had he felt the same way when she’d clung to him after breaking up with Chance? When she’d cried about her outsider genes. When she was wrought with fear in the root cellar? She flung a sprig of hardy ground ivy into her pail. Brushing off her gloves, she asked, “So Susanna saw the two of you?”

  “Mm-hmm. After that things went downhill. Let’s just say I’d rather be pulling weeds than back at church cleaning up the mess I made.”