The Unwanted Assistant

by Evangeline Kelly

  “Have you read this one before?” I asked, holding up the novel.

  He shrugged and didn’t respond. My guess was he probably had read the novel but was purposefully disengaging.

  It was pitiful, really. Two strangers sitting in a room together with nothing to say. A feeling of being thoroughly useless came over me.

  Sawyer’s hair hung in his face as if he tried to hide the evidence of his unhappiness. I couldn’t even imagine the devastation of losing my entire family.

  The longer we sat, the more I thought about that invisible wall between us; one I couldn’t break down or climb over. He was the one who erected the wall, and he was the only one who could knock it down.

  An hour later, he slipped out of the room carrying the leather-clad book. I stepped out into the hallway and glanced after him right as he shut the door to his bedroom.

  There was no telling when he planned on coming out.

  ***

  Later that evening, Sammie and I sat on the couch in our apartment. I rested back against the cushions, my fingers splayed through one side of my hair near my temple. “You have no idea how awkward it is. I just sit there and he barely looks at me.”

  “I think you should pray about it. Ask God to show you what to do.”

  “But I have been praying.”

  She smiled grimly. “Pray more.”

  I slipped away to be alone on the balcony off my room and leaned against the railing as I watched the sunset over the river. The warm August breeze caressed my face and brought the fresh scent of magnolias to permeate the space.

  The clouds above rippled like golden flames while hues of orange and pink streaked the sky like an impressionist painting. As the last of the sun illuminated the river like glittering stardust, the weight I’d been carrying on my shoulders began to lift. Somehow, gazing at this beautiful scene, I sensed everything would be okay.

  Back home, the ugly view out my window had been gray and cold and bleak. Even though I’d always been thankful I had a place to live, I'd believed there had to be more to the world than that dreadful street with its equally dreadful view of a freeway overpass.

  It took heartbreak to bring me to my beautiful river view.

  I stepped inside my bedroom and crashed on the bed, laying back with my hands behind my head. My thoughts were on other things even though I had school work to attend to.

  Living in Alabama was much like a dream. Everything had happened so fast I’d barely had the chance to register I was in another state away from my family. Away from Austin. I decided it was a good thing. Change was hard, but it was time for me to put on my big girl pants and deal.

  Lifting one of my textbooks from the nightstand, I sat up in bed. I needed to focus and get to work.

  I’d completed most of my general education classes back home at a community college. Except for two Upper Division General Eds, most of my current classes concentrated on Mathematics.

  Math had always come easy for me. Knowing how to deal with someone who’d experienced trauma? Not so much. Perhaps I should’ve paid more attention in Psychology 101. On second thought, a more advanced class would have been more appropriate.

  I closed my eyes. Lord, how do I get this guy to interact with me? Is it even possible? Please change his heart. Please bring true joy to his life.

  For a long while, I sat there, my chest rising and falling as I reflected about the day. In my haste to get through to Sawyer, I hadn’t considered what he really needed. I’d concentrated on my own feelings—how working for him was hard. I’d been treating him like he was a job and maybe he sensed that—kept me at a distance because he thought I didn’t care. Perhaps all he needed was a true friend to be there for him. A tear rolled down my face. I’d been handling everything the wrong way. This situation called for empathy, not halfhearted attempts to earn a paycheck.

  Then, a new idea came to me and I quickly thanked God for answered prayer. It wasn’t anything profound or complex. In fact, it was so simple, I felt lame for not thinking of it sooner. I grabbed a piece of notebook paper and composed a letter.

  Chapter 13

  Ivy

  The next afternoon, I returned to Sawyer’s home, this time with a plan.

  A plan that called for the right mindset. I would pretend Sawyer was one of Mom’s difficult customers. If she were here, she’d schmooze him until they were best buds. Best friends might be too much to hope for when it came to Sawyer, but pleasant companionship would suffice.

  Being a waitress, my mom encountered all kinds of customers: some good, some bad, some truly horrible. But her response had always been consistent.

  Ivy, when someone treats you badly, kill them with kindness. Show them so much love they see Jesus in you.

  She and I memorized Proverbs 12:18 together. There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

  Mom practiced what she preached. I’d witnessed customers yelling at her for all kinds of things that were out of her control. The food was too hot or too cold, the noise level in the restaurant was too loud, the air conditioning wasn’t good enough . . . yet she always held her tongue and usually by the end of their meal she’d won them over with her kindness. She had a way with people. It was a gift. I only had a fraction of her patience, but I would do my best to emulate her example.

  We were reading again in the parlor, and I waited for the right moment. It came when Sawyer got up and walked out into the hallway. I crossed the room to his desk and placed a small envelope inside the book with the brown leather cover. I’d noticed it in his possession most of the day, so I figured he’d find the note relatively soon if I placed it there.

  My heart jumped when I glanced up and saw him frozen in the doorway, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

  “What were you just doing?”

  I leaned against the desk, fingering the locket at my neck. “I was looking at your book.”

  His expression hardened. “Did you read anything?”

  I frowned at the mistrust on his face. “No. I didn’t.”

  “It’s my private journal so don’t touch it,” he growled. “Now that I know you’re a snoop I’ll keep it locked up.”

  My heart sank. I hadn’t expected it would be his journal. Leave it to me to do something nice and in the process, make it worse. I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t snooping. If I had known it was your private journal, I wouldn’t have touched it.”

  He strode towards the desk and grabbed the journal with one forceful move, acting as if he had to pull dangerous scissors away from a toddler. Our eyes met for a few seconds and there was anger there. But something else existed.

  Fear.

  And then I understood. His most intimate thoughts were written in that journal. Thoughts he wanted to keep to himself.

  As he walked away, the envelope fell out of the book, and he reached to pick it up off the floor. “What’s this?” he asked, eyes wary, most likely measuring my capability for some imagined misdeed.

  “A note I wrote for you.”

  Opening the envelope, he pulled out the letter and quickly scanned it.

  He wasn’t able to hide the slight tremor of his hand as he shoved it back in the envelope and pushed it into his pocket. He stormed out of the room without another word. I decided it was a step in the right direction that he hadn’t ripped up the note and thrown it away as I half expected him to do.

  ***

  A couple hours later, I tried to occupy myself by laying out playing cards on a small table in the library. Earlier, I’d studied and practiced equations for school. At the moment, I planned on playing Speed, my favorite card game, even though I was alone and it technically required a second player.

  I laid out five cards, along with fifteen for the draw pile. I did this on both sides of the table and then placed down a jack of hearts and a queen of diamonds in the center. The object was to get rid of my cards in ascending or descending order as fast as possible.

 
Sawyer had made himself scarce the last two hours, and I’d given him space. Even though we were supposed to be spending time together, there was only so much I could do. He’d made his position clear, and I needed to respect his wishes.

  The sound of his boots in the hallway interrupted my concentration. Entering the room, he zeroed in on me. “What are you doing?”

  “Playing Speed,” I said through a breath, still intent on my game. A gut feeling told me to ignore him because showing any attention would scare him away. I placed a king of diamonds over a queen of hearts. He circled the table to face me. “You’re not doing that right. Speed isn’t meant to be played by one person.”

  “Are you here to point out the obvious, or are you thinking of joining me?”

  “Just making an observation.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing as he watched me with a curious expression.

  “You wouldn’t want to compete against me, anyway. I’d kick your butt.” My calculated words sounded casual even to me.

  He stared back, stone-faced. For a moment, I thought I’d made him angry, but then slowly, very slowly, he smiled. “Is that so?”

  Intuition told me he was competitive, and all I needed to do was to egg him on a little. I plastered an overexaggerated cocky grin on my face. “It is.”

  “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s probably only played against other weak players.”

  “Other weak players?” My voice was lighthearted even though his words were meant to provoke. “I’m not weak, Sawyer. You have no chance against me.”

  “Look at you. You’re holding your cards like an amateur.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m holding twice as many cards since I’m playing myself. It’s not as if I have a willing partner.”

  He didn’t respond but didn’t move away, either. I felt the weight of his eyes on me as I continued.

  “What else do I have to do around here? I have to kill time some way.” I placed down an ace of spades, ending the game. Gathering the cards together, I shuffled the deck. He lingered, and it seemed like he wanted to play, but something held him back.

  I nodded towards the chair opposite mine. “Take a seat. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.”

  “You’re out of your league,” he mumbled.

  No, he was out of his league. I’d been playing this game since I was a kid. Dad trained me to play fast and smart, and there was no way I would let him win. My chin lifted. “Put some action to your words.”

  “Fine. You’re on.”

  I dealt the cards, and we both sorted through our piles of five. “Ready?” I asked.

  “Ready.”

  I flipped the two of clubs and king of hearts over in the center, and we threw down cards as fast as we could, replenishing from our piles of fifteen when needed. Sawyer placed down an ace, and it appeared as if he had another card he wanted to play, so I put down a king, queen, and jack before he had the chance to smack down anything else. He placed down a ten, and then I finished the game by throwing out a nine. He had two cards left in his hand. I’d won.

  I thrust my arms in the air and jumped to my feet. “Ha! I knew I’d beat you.”

  He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d just lost. “You were lucky, that’s all.”

  “That wasn’t luck. That was skill.”

  He laughed for the first time that day, and it felt like a small victory.

  “All right, Shortcake.”

  His use of the nickname was a good sign.

  “If you’re going to call me, Shortcake, the least you can do is offer me the real dessert.”

  He snickered. “Don’t count on it.” He leaned back in his seat. “You say you’ve got skill. Let’s see if that’s true by playing two out of three.”

  I tapped my chin impishly. “The outcome will remain the same.”

  “Fine, let’s place a wager then. Tell me what you want.”

  “La Madeline au Truffe,” I said without thinking. Well, maybe I’d had chocolate on the brain.

  “La Madeline what?”

  “It’s an expensive chocolate. The most expensive in the world, actually.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you aren’t a chocolate connoisseur like I am. It’s Chokopologie, a brand by House of Knipschildt.”

  “If that’s what you want . . .”

  “No, forget it. I can’t afford to bet anything. You’re going to want something just as valuable.” I rubbed my thumb back and forth against my chin, deep in thought. Whatever I asked for, I needed to make it count. “Wait, didn’t I see a ping pong table downstairs in the sunroom?”

  “Want the table? Fine. It’s yours—if you beat me.”

  “I’m not asking for the table. If I win, you have to play ping pong with me anytime I ask.”

  He looked surprised. “You can have anything and that’s what you’re asking for?”

  I nodded. “Yep. That’s all I want.”

  “All right,” he said. “If I win, you have to tell me about the locket you always wear.”

  The smile on my face disappeared as his words registered. I’d meant to take it off after he’d asked about it the first time, but for some reason, it felt like I’d be shutting the door on any chance I had left with Austin. I knew that was stupid. My chances with Austin were long over.

  I hesitated, not sure if I should wager something like that. If he won, it would be uncomfortable telling him it was from the boyfriend who dumped me. I didn’t want to seem pathetic. But the bigger reason was I had yet to share that information with anyone. Not even Sammie.

  I would never let it get to that point because I was a Speed Master. “Fine. I’ll tell you about the locket if you win two out of three. Game on.”

  He would not beat me.

  ***

  He just beat me.

  Well, one game at least—we still had another. Composing my expression, I hid the fact that inwardly I was freaking out. If I lost, I’d have to honor our agreement and tell him embarrassing details about a gift that no longer meant anything. I did not want to talk about the locket with Sawyer. Ever.

  My heart rate picked up. It was time to put on my competitive face and give it all I had. “You had a lucky break.”

  “That wasn’t luck, that was skill,” he said, parroting back my own words.

  “I had to give you at least one win so you wouldn’t feel bad.”

  He grinned. “We’ll see who feels bad after the next game.” He flexed his fingers and shuffled the cards, bending them back so they fell into a bridge. He leaned forward in a ready position as if he was about to sprint in a race.

  I stifled a laugh. “You’re competitive, aren’t you?”

  “Ask Hayden. He’ll tell you I win almost everything we play.”

  “Maybe he lets you win, have you ever thought of that?”

  He snickered. “Naw, he stopped doing that when I was ten years old.” He glanced at me. “Do you like chess?”

  “Never really tried it.”

  He had a smug expression. “Chess is hard-core. Not your style I’m guessing.”

  “You should teach me.”

  He didn’t respond, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. My spirits soared at the knowledge he was letting his guard down, and I was finally getting through to him, even if just a little.

  He swiftly dealt the cards, and we both flipped back into strategic mode.

  I had an ace, a two, a three, a four and a five. It would be a cinch to throw down in easy succession. “Ready?” I moistened my lips in anticipation and the motion drew his attention. His eyes lingered on my lips for a second, sending goosebumps all over my arms. He shook his head as if clearing it, then turned the center cards over. “Go.”

  We both slammed down cards as if our lives depended on it. My hair fell into my face, and I pushed it away with my forearm, not wanting any distractions from my goal. I stalle
d for a second, and then I shoved a ten on top of the pile before he put anything else down. He glared at me as I placed down two more.

  We continued until we each held only three cards. He had a determined look, and my stomach tightened at the thought he might win. But then he threw down a ten. Seeing an opening, I took it. My jack, queen, and king finished the game. Leaping to my feet, I roared in triumph. “Yes!”

  I touched my locket. That was close. Way too close.

  “I almost had you.” He showed me his ten, nine, and eight.

  “If you’d been a little faster, you would have won.”

  “Where did you learn to play like that?” he asked.

  “My dad. We play a lot of cards at my house.”

  He nodded, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he actually seemed interested in what I had to say.

  I wiggled my eyebrows. “Now, for that game of ping pong.”

  He glanced at the clock. “Your schedule says you have to leave by five.”

  Interesting. If he knew my schedule that meant he’d taken it out of the trash and kept it.

  My gaze followed his to the clock on the wall, and I was surprised to find it was already five-thirty. “Lost track of time. I guess we’ll have to come back to this tomorrow.” My next class was at six and I needed to go or I'd be late.

  He shrugged like it didn’t matter to him. And then I realized something unexpected.

  He was kind of fun to be around when he relaxed.

  “I enjoyed today, Sawyer. Can’t wait to play ping pong tomorrow.”

  His eyes glittered, but he didn’t return the sentiment. I was okay with that because I’d win him over, even if it meant killing him with kindness.

  Chapter 14

  Sawyer

  Dear Sawyer,

  I won’t pretend to understand what you went through in losing your family, but I want you to know I’m here if you ever need to talk. You made it clear we aren’t friends, but regardless, I’m offering my friendship to you. Not because I have to. Not because it’s my job to spend time with you, but because I truly care. I’m praying for you, and I trust God will work in ways we haven’t seen yet.