Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  He wore jeans, which in itself was an unusual sight. More often, she saw him in his dress clothes. He also had on a solid gray, pocketed T-shirt and a pair of sunglasses that prohibited her from knowing where his gaze was focused. As he made some test swings, his shirt lifted a bit, revealing a small waist. She felt a strange sad yearning, but it was as fleeting as it was strange. As his legs found their stance, his strength drew her interest. He had fascinated her from the moment he’d stepped onto the Weavers’ property. Now his arms bunched under his shirt as he took several fake swings. Finally he took his place at home plate. Tapped the plate with the tip of his bat.

  Ivan’s first pitch was outside, and Micah let it go by. Fletch was catcher. He lopped it back to Ivan. The next pitch was good, and Micah drew back. He hit the ball high into centerfield. Megan’s gaze followed it, until she saw that it was going to fall behind her. Both she and Lil ran for it, but it hit the ground beyond them. Lil scooped it up first, probably because she could run faster in her jeans.

  Panting, Megan bent slightly to catch her breath and watched Lil toss it into the infield. It was an overthrow that sailed over Ivan’s head. Micah rounded third, his long, churning legs never slowing. Megan watched the play unfold, found herself rooting for Micah even if he was aggravating and playing for the opposing team. He hit the ground and slid, uprooting some grassy clods, his feet hitting home just before Ivan finally recovered the ball and threw it to Fletch.

  Micah stood and clapped Fletch on the arm, both men grinning. Then Micah brushed off his jeans and looked up, and although she couldn’t be certain because of his sunglasses, she thought he caught her staring. Quickly, she dropped her gaze and returned to her position.

  “We’re tied,” Lil called over with disappointment.

  But in Megan’s estimation, Micah’s home run outshone anything their team had done. Her admiration diminished, however, when the odd-numbered team’s runs began to stack up against them, inning after inning. And when the babies woke up and the game ended, Megan was glad to be finished with it.

  Lil and Fletch served homemade ice cream topped with strawberries, and Megan was content when Micah stretched out on the grass beside her quilt. “You’re good. Did you play in school?”

  “No. Just lucky,” he replied.

  She didn’t think so. “Normally we have a church picnic and ball game on Labor Day weekend.”

  “Really?” Micah got excited. “No one’s mentioned it.”

  “Only the men play ball,” she clarified. “It’s always been the last hurrah before school starts, kind of an early harvest celebration.”

  “Why should this year be any different? I think we should do it. Who plans it?”

  “Brother Troyer and his wife always did.”

  “I’ll talk to Barbara about it. A church ball game might ease some tension.”

  Megan nodded, wondering what tension. She took a spoonful of ice cream, felt his gaze on her.

  “Do you think I stare at the widows?”

  Almost bursting into laughter, she asked, “What?”

  “When I preach?”

  She saw he was dead serious and tried to envision his last sermon, when suddenly her eyes lit with understanding amusement. “I believe you do. But I always thought you were watching the clock.”

  “Of course.” He shook his head, and a clump of bangs fell playfully over his sunglasses. He gave it a quick brush of his hand. “That’s it.”

  “Guess you’d better put a watch on the pulpit.”

  “Now I can give the search committee an explanation.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and she noticed that he had ice cream under his lower lip.

  It was all she could do not to reach out and remove it. She quickly glanced away, watching Katy scoop up little Jacob. Why was she always wanting to fix him? Help him when he was already practically perfect? The idea troubled her. “Glad I could help. I need to go talk to Katy.” She stood and brushed her skirt. “I’ll be on the swing later if you want to drop by and gloat about getting me out on second.”

  His voice sounded grave when he replied, “It’s tempting.”

  As she strode toward Katy, she felt her face heat and wondered how she could be so bold, but she missed him and their quiet talks. From the start of Micah’s return to Plain City, God had drawn them together. She found rest in his quiet strength.

  She was certain he would never offer anything other than friendship, like everyone seemed to hope. He might wish to, but he wouldn’t. She had ruined her real chances with him when she had acted the fool over Chance. No, Micah was too honorable, too perfect to make that kind of mistake. When had she started thinking of him as perfect? That night in the root cellar? Certainly not back in college.

  “Megan, have you heard what Jacob did last night?”

  She tore her attention away from the preacher and saw the joy in Katy’s eyes. Marriage and motherhood agreed with her. Megan fondled the baby’s soft squirmy arm and shared in Katy’s delight. “No. What did he do?”

  Micah pushed his notes aside. How could he study his sermon when Megan might be waiting for him on the porch swing? Had he really caught her staring at him throughout the ball game? Or did she merely need another sounding board, a tear blotter. If so, he’d be smart to think ahead and stick a hanky in his pocket and keep her off his shoulder and out of his arms.

  Megan had been distant all week, which had suited his desire to quit chasing her. But he’d been disappointed that she hadn’t been there for him when he’d needed to vent after his search committee meeting. Today, however, she’d redeemed herself, by solving the mystery about why the widows thought he stared at them when he preached. Not only that, she’d told him about the annual church picnic and softball game.

  With a touch or a word, she made things right, providing the exact type of encouragement he needed. He sighed and laid down his pencil, hating to admit that she’d helped him as much, if not more, than he’d ever helped her. And surely her motives were purer than his own.

  With things intensifying at church, he didn’t need the extra stress of Megan messing with his emotions. She didn’t realize how she affected him. Her naïveté was deadly.

  What he needed was his grandmother’s sweet advice. She’d been more than motherly, she’d been a saint. The past week, working with Barbara, those memories had returned. He could hardly face the idea of failing at Big Darby and having to return to live in the quiet old house alone. It would stir up the sad memories of her last weeks. He knew that he would need to go back and deal with the house sometime, no matter what happened.

  His traitorous thoughts returned to Megan. Why had she asked him to meet her on the porch? With a disgusted sigh at his male weakness and one-track thinking, he pushed back his chair. Scooping up the cat, he went toward the door. Once he was outside, he’d be able to tell if Megan was there. Usually his body came to alert anytime she was on the property. He’d know, all right. He’d take the cat out, but he wouldn’t sit on the porch and wait for her, for pity’s sake.

  Miss Purrty meandered toward the back of the property, and something akin to static electricity danced across his arms. But his heart throbbed with a dull pain, like arthritic joints before a rain. Megan was his rain. She was nothing if she wasn’t bittersweet. He paused, listened. Smiled at the swing’s groan. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he gravitated toward the rain.

  When he reached the porch, he saw her hair was backlit by the moon, giving her face an ethereal appearance. “Hey.”

  She looked up. “Fireflies will soon be gone.”

  “Like me.”

  “You’re in a bad mood for being on the winning team.”

  He didn’t ask for permission, just slipped onto the seat next to her. Oddly, she didn’t slide over, like he’d expected, which left their shoulders lightly pressed against each other. He already regretted their touch, and he would suffer from it. But if she wasn’t going to move first, he certainly wasn’t going to go wimpy. He’d already
done that earlier in the afternoon, when he’d gotten a sneezing attack the second time he was up to bat. He’d made it to first, and as he’d waited for the next batter to hit him around the bases, he’d heard Megan sneezing in the outfield. Though his allergies always made him feel less than manly, it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction that she shared his symptoms.

  “I saw your light. Working on your sermon?”

  “Mm-hmm. It’s about patience.”

  “You’re good at that one, aren’t you?”

  “Not so good.”

  “I’m anxious to hear your sermon. But lately, I have this feeling …”

  “What?”

  “That everything will turn out right in the end. Is that patience, you think?”

  “Sounds more like faith. Was it something your aunt said? Did she leave you with an inheritance or something?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “I think it had more to do with finally agreeing with God, instead of resisting Him. The past two weeks seem like years. Another lifetime, actually. I don’t think I loved Chance.” She turned, searched his face. “Do you think that’s fickle?”

  He wanted to kiss the fickleness right out of her lips, help her find her way. But she trusted him with her shoulder snuggled against him. “Nope.” When her eyes widened, he realized he’d said that out loud. “No. Not fickle. I know what it’s like to lose someone. Feel disappointed and confused. To receive God’s peace in the midst of it. I understand.”

  “Your grandma?”

  He missed her dearly, but he was thinking about his struggle to get over Megan. It was exhausting, so he directed their conversation to a safer place. “I don’t want to lose this position.” Had he really agreed with God, as Megan finally had? Or was he still resisting Him?

  “What can I do to help?”

  Kiss me. Keep your distance, and for crying out loud, don’t be inviting me to meet you on the porch swing. He glanced at her moonlit face, wondering if he could tell her that. Would she understand if he explained how hard she was making it for him to concentrate on his job? Or would it frighten her and make her loathe him for pretending friendship when he really loved her. She looked at him, waiting expectantly. “Just be a good sport and hold my hand, I guess.”

  She took him literally and slipped her hand in his. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

  He eased away. “We are, Megan. But difficult as it will be, we need to quit meeting like this. Like you said before, we need to agree with God, not resist Him, and I don’t think our actions honor Him.”

  She rubbed her rejected hand down her skirt. “I guess. But it feels right. I don’t understand why I feel so comfortable with you? Do you?”

  He wished he could say the same. But comfortable didn’t quite fit the bill for him. He clamped his knee so he didn’t give in and put his arm around her. He heard Purrty’s mew, and knew that their moment was ending. That he had to take his stand against the pull of the flesh. “I’d better get back to my sermon.” She turned, looking hurt. Somehow, he found the strength to say, “I’m glad that we could get over the awkwardness of college. I appreciate all you’ve done to help me. Your friendship, your kindness. But we’re not children, and we can’t play with fire, Meg. We need to keep our distance, for both our reputations.”

  “Is this what you told Joy Ann?”

  Surprised to hear the edge in her voice, he studied her eyes. Even softened by moonlight, they held flashes of anger. “Of course not. But if you really want to help me—”

  “Stop,” she interrupted, as she stood. “I get it.”

  “I don’t think you do. You don’t realize how you affect men.”

  “Are you insinuating that I enticed Chance?”

  “No. I’m just saying I can’t go around protecting you.” He sighed, ran his hands through his hair. “I need to practice what I preach. In all honesty, we both know we need to grow up.”

  Her head dipped. He hoped she wasn’t going to cry again. Because he refused to comfort her the way he had in the past. He waited. Slowly she raised her head. There was a trace of moisture in her eyes, but thankfully, she kept her composure.

  “You’re right. I’ve been selfish. It’s impossible to continue this way. But I hope you won’t think badly of me if I see you staring at the clock tomorrow and make a face. It won’t do, you know, to keep staring at the widows.”

  Grateful for her brave attempt at humor, he whispered. “I’d be honored for your help.”

  “It’s late. ’Night.”

  He scooped up the cat and headed for his cottage without even attempting a reply. He wanted to get as far away from his temptation as possible. He knew there’d be some kneeling time before he could get back to his sermon. But he felt good about taking a stand. It was up to God now to give him the strength to abide.

  Added to everything else that had happened, Micah’s rejection devastated Megan. She’d never expected him to give her the brush-off. She deserved the humiliating set down for using him the way she had. She’d been selfish and horrified when he told her to grow up. But worse was the loss of a valuable friendship. Kind, gentle, perfect Micah, always trying to do the right thing. He was not a weakling. He was the strongest man she knew. And she’d driven him away.

  Rolling onto her back, she stared into the darkness and pulled the covers up under her chin. She was positive that he still cared about her, but he’d been man enough to resist her. He wouldn’t settle for less than what he deserved. Someone who adored him, some pure-hearted woman who could share his life and bring honor to his position as head of the church. Who would he choose? Lori Longacre? He admired her and found her attractive. It was painful to imagine the two of them together. Why had it taken her so long to realize Micah’s worth? She’d been such a fool. Twice over.

  She would take his advice to heart, as if it was from God Himself. Micah was her preacher, after all. She would pick herself up and be a better person for it, even if he did marry the librarian. She would do everything in her power to help and not hinder him. He deserved that much from her.

  She thought she understood the quotation in the latest love letter by her great-grandfather that she’d read: “There is no remedy for love than to love more”—Henry David Thoreau.

  CHAPTER 31

  The next morning at church, Megan watched Micah preach his best-ever sermon, his gaze never veering toward the clock or the widows’ section. Afterward, he announced his plans for the church picnic and what he now called the Brothers’ Baseball Outing. At the announcement, a general buzz fell over the congregation. On one hand, she was happy that his idea was being accepted, but on the other, she was a bit disappointed that Micah presented the idea with enthusiasm and didn’t appear to have lost any sleep on her account.

  “Clever name, Brothers’ Baseball Outing,” Inez whispered to Leon.

  When the general din waned, Micah surprised the congregation further by delegating those men seated on his left to be on the white-shirt team, and those on his right side to be on the blue-shirt team. He encouraged them to choose their own captains. As she listened to Micah’s plans, she was surprised to hear that Joy Ann and Ruthie were organizing some games for the children. And Barbara was working with the hostess committee to plan the food.

  After the meeting, feeling generally left out and disagreeable, Megan started across the parking lot to find Katy, hoping little Jacob would lift her spirits. She’d only taken a few steps when she heard David Miller planning to recruit Chad Penner, who was home sick with a cold. She wondered if Micah’s new method would foster unhealthy rivalry and contention amongst the men. But with Micah’s rejection still heavy on her heart, she didn’t have it in her to warn him about it. Men. Let them work it out.

  “Hi, Katy. Can I hold him?”

  “Of course. He loves you.”

  Megan bounced Jacob until he giggled.

  “I have news. Elizabeth Miller is thinking about taking a job, and I offered to babysit for her if she does.” Katy’s
dark eyes flashed with joy. “Won’t that be fun?”

  Megan kissed Jacob’s cheek. “I thought you hated that nanny job.”

  Tucking a strand of black hair beneath her covering, Katy quickly explained, “That was different. Those children were raised differently and I didn’t know how to handle them. I’ve also developed a little patience since then.”

  Megan’s mind went to Micah’s sermon on patience, but she quickly reined it in. “From living with Jake?”

  Katy laughed. “That, too. But enough about me. I heard Randy’s been rough on you. I’ve been praying for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m not sure what I’ll do if things don’t change soon.”

  “Have you talked to Micah about it?”

  “No. He doesn’t want to have much to do with me, either.” Megan didn’t wish to turn Katy against their preacher candidate, so she quickly added, “It’s not his fault. Our friendship isn’t really appropriate, right now.”

  “Are you still unwilling to admit it might be more than friendship?”

  Trying to speak while Jacob poked her cheeks, seemingly fascinated with adult speaking mechanisms, Megan replied, “I was foolish to tell him about Chance. Now I wish I hadn’t. He knows everything, and I don’t think he can get past that. He needs somebody with a good reputation, somebody like Lori.”

  “Oh.” Katy’s dark brow suddenly quirked in warning, just before Susanna swooped in and landed beside them.

  “Young ladies, the quilters are helping the hostess committee with the picnic. Isn’t it exciting? Anyway, I wanted to ask you, Megan, if you’d bring that three bean salad that Barbara raves about.”

  “Of course. But it’s really Lil’s recipe.”

  Her arm swept a graceful but fierce wing through the air. “Well, work it out between you. Hopefully Lil will come and bring something a little more …”

  “Scrumptious?” Katy supplied, and Megan’s feelings weren’t in the least bit hurt.

  “Exactly. We certainly don’t want to tie her hands, now do we?” Susanna’s laugh croaked. But when she walked away, Megan asked, “Did she hear us talking about Micah?”