Oh, in all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten my impulsive promise from two nights ago. Soon! Definitely. Maybe after the wedding?
I’m going to hold you to that. And here’s hoping I’m not going to have to end up drying your tears.
Come on, I wrote, be positive. Be happy for me. It’s about time I made a friend.
As long as that’s what he is. Just remember, it was less than a week ago that the guy drove you to tears . . .
Stop twisting things, Jess. You know that’s not what happened.
Our chat session wasn’t nearly as fun as I’d anticipated, and as soon as I could manage, I signed off, preferring to guard my new friendship from Jess so she wouldn’t overanalyze it.
~
We went for another walk the next day, then the next, and Harvey’s pleasant company and our lively conversations became the highlight of my days.
Try as he might, though, Harvey couldn’t convince me to accept his offer of a motorcycle ride. I respected his determination, but I didn’t trust the hulking machine. Even though I knew how important motorcycles were to him, I couldn’t bring myself to mount one.
He cruised into my driveway late one morning on a bike I’d never seen before. The red body complemented the shiny steel frame, all the curves and lines sleek, bold, and striking.
Harvey kicked the stand into place, dismounted, and strode to my side. “Hi, Lila. Will you do me a favor?”
I eyed the motorcycle. “No, I can’t go for a ride.”
He waved my words away. “One of these days. But that’s not what I’m asking. I need somewhere to park this thing for a week or so, till after the wedding.”
“Why?” From my understanding, he had a big garage large enough to house all his bikes and then some.
“Sally hangs around my place too much, since I’m such an awesome brother and all, and she’s too perceptive. I don’t want her figuring out my secret.” He patted the bike as if it were a beautiful stallion. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Easily.”
“Sally’s been eyeing this baby for weeks. I’m gonna give it to her as a wedding gift.”
Wow. “I thought I was your gift,” I teased.
He smiled. “True, and you’re gonna top this one, which is just kind of a bonus. I guess she’ll have to let her husband use it too.” His face brightened. “But who knows, maybe she’ll be the one to finally convince you to take a ride.”
“Dream on. And I’m sorry, but I don’t have room for that thing in my garage.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got a weatherproof cover for it. If you’ll just let me park it on the side of your house, behind those big bushes, that’d be perfect.”
I tapped my foot a moment. “Okay.” I supposed this was the kind of favor a friend would do for another.
“Great, thanks.” He wheeled the bike out of sight and tucked it protectively under the cover. “Now, I know it’ll be hard to control yourself, but try to resist the temptation to sneak in some wild rides.”
I smothered a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“Everyone’s got a little wild side to them.” He crossed his arms. “Should’ve seen me at sixteen. I would’ve scared you.”
“I don’t think so.” I couldn’t imagine anything scary about him. Intriguing, yes. Headstrong, yes. Scary? No.
“I had a mohawk.”
My jaw dropped. “No.”
“Yep. I dyed it black, too.” He ran a hand over his pleasantly messy blond hair, which looked so right it felt wrong to even imagine the mohawk.
“My mom cried. My dad called me a disgrace, then didn’t talk to me for a month. Sally loved it, though. She even dyed her hair blue and purple, her way of diverting the situation. She’s loyal, and she’d do anything for me.” He shrugged and glanced back at the bike. “So I figure maybe she’s worth giving two gifts to.”
If his intention was to warm me up to the idea of seeing Sarah again, he was succeeding.
“So what about you?” He crossed the driveway. “You never did anything crazy like that?”
I pretended to think hard, though I knew my answer was a resounding no. Not crazy like that, just odd like shutting myself away from the world with a bunch of butterflies for friends. But he already knew that.
“When I was twelve, I wanted to go to a slumber party so bad that I snuck out after my parents were sleeping.”
He appeared slightly impressed. “Did you have fun?”
“No, actually. I felt so guilty, I couldn’t enjoy a second of it. I finally called them. They were so relieved. They’d woken up and saw I was gone and were about to call the police.”
“They must’ve been pretty worried.”
“They were. What parent wouldn’t be?”
“Sure. Yeah, of course.” Harvey’s forehead furrowed. “I can see that now, looking back. I guess I probably gave my parents more than their share of gray hairs. Though I’m not gonna take all the credit—Sally deserves a good chunk, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So were your parents mad? My dad would’ve flipped.”
“They only grounded me for a couple of days. But I was so sorry I’d worried them like that, I thought they should’ve grounded me for at least a month.”
“So hard on yourself, Lila.”
“It all worked out. That pretty much squelched my rebellious desires.” Thinking back on the past with a sad fondness, I added, “I had a good childhood.”
I really did. And that was something to be grateful for, I realized.
Harvey tilted his head and looked at me strangely.
“What?”
“Nothing. I mean, something. Something about you. You’re different from other girls I’ve known.”
I laughed. “You’re only just realizing that? I’ll save you the wondering. I think it was the homeschooling.”
His mouth shifted thoughtfully back and forth. “Maybe . . . But there’s more to it than that.”
~
Later that night, as I selected items to fill my virtual cart for my weekly grocery order, I searched boxes of hair dye just for fun.
I’d never go for a drastic color change like purple or blue, but I’d occasionally wondered what it would be like to be a redhead. Impulsively, I clicked on a box of “foxy red” and added it to my cart.
The next second, I took it out.
Click, back in it went.
Out again.
Honestly, Lila. I rolled my eyes and resumed shopping for produce.
But when my grocery order arrived the next day, I discovered that, somehow, the dye had ended up in my order after all.
A mistake, or a fortuitous coincidence?
Either way, I couldn’t be bothered to return it to the store. After admiring the tresses of the beautiful model, I tucked the box away in the back of my bathroom shelf and forgot about it.
For a little while, anyway.
Chapter 11
Horrified, I clutched my head and dreaded opening my eyes to the mirror and the reflection I knew would still be there, the unfortunate truth I’d discovered too late: I didn’t look good as a redhead.
With a moan, I wondered why I hadn’t left well enough alone. Why had I given in to my impulsive urge to dye my hair right before the wedding? Because I thought it would be fun?
This was anything but fun.
My intention had been to look boldly beautiful, classy and majestic.
Not this.
Oh, this was awful.
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Screwing up my courage, I opened one eye.
Ugh, worse than before.
I raced to my computer to search for a way to return my hair to its former state. A terrible urgency tore at me. The wedding was only a few hours away.
~
Staring at the mirror, I feared I now had a legitimate excuse to remain a recluse.
A rap on the front door jolted me. I knew the sound of Harvey’s knock well, but this time when it came, my nerves seized.
I didn’t want anyone seeing me like this.
After shampooing and soaking my hair with lemon juice and vinegar, I’d bleached much of the offending color out, but not enough . . .
Something had gone wrong, and the method had only succeeded in transforming the color more than removing it.
Was there any chance people wouldn’t notice?
Please, Lord? A prayer of vanity—I didn’t expect it to be answered.
I tried not to wobble to the door. All that time fussing with my hair had depleted me of the chance to practice walking in my new shoes. What had possessed me to buy a pair with such high heels?
I opened the door, my heart hammering and my flimsy shawl sliding down my shoulders.
Harvey’s lips smiled, but his eyes revealed surprise. His mouth opened slowly. “Your hair’s . . . pink.”
Yep, he definitely noticed.
I could tell he wanted details but was suddenly too polite to ask, his refined demeanor matching his attire. His tuxedo appeared to be tailor-made, more expensive than a month of groceries.
Despite how handsome he looked, I almost wished for the familiarity of him in jeans and a T-shirt, which would’ve set me more at ease.
The grin never left his face. “You look great.”
But would he tell me the truth if he hated my hair? Way to put him in an awkward spot, Lila.
“You’ll go well with my mandatory”—he made air quotes—“salmon-colored tie.”
I barely glanced at the tie as I touched a lock of my hair and wrapped it around my finger. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. I didn’t mean to look like some kind of spectacle.”
My gaze shifted to my lavender painted toenails peeking from my open-toed shoes, and it pained me to continue. “I’m probably way too inappropriate-looking for church now.” My voice dropped. “I’ll understand if you’d rather I stay home.” Mentally, I was already debating which ’50s movie to watch tonight.
“You kidding me? Of course not.” He tilted my chin up, and the gentle touch sent a tingle through my jaw and down my spine. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
He stilled my hand, then released my twisted hair. “You’re making a much bigger deal about this than it is. Really.” His finger trailed down the side of my face. “You look beautiful.”
My cheeks probably blushed the same shade as my hair, so I tilted my head from his view. “If you’re sure. I mean, about me still going.”
“Positive. On both counts.” He stepped back. “It’s not all pink, you know. More like pink highlights. Some girls pay major money for that, and you’re telling me you did that yourself? If the entomology thing doesn’t work out, you could make it big as a hair stylist.”
I laughed. How did he always know just what to say?
“Now let’s get moving. I promised Sally I’d be there as early as the rest of the guys.”
Right, he was in the wedding party. I’d have a lot of time on my own today. I swallowed, then remembered something. I reached over and seized the handles of a mesh enclosure filled with over a dozen monarchs.
“Look.” I hoisted the large, but light, container. “They just came out of their chrysalises this morning. Their wings are dry by now and they’re ready to be released soon. Isn’t that perfect timing?”
“Wow, so perfect that I think it was meant to be.”
I liked the way he looked at me when he said that, as if he meant more than butterflies.
Friends, we’re just friends. And that’s a big enough step for me.
“It’s not a few hundred like you wanted,” I said. “It’s not even one hundred.”
“It’s more than enough.” He opened his car door and helped me slip inside. Compared to the outside heat, the interior felt wonderfully cool. I placed the butterflies and my elegant little purse near my feet, then clicked my seat belt into place.
“Mmm, your car smells nice.” I’d never smelled anything quite like it before. “Like new leather and fresh laundry.”
He chuckled. “Glad you like it. Feel free to take as many breaths as you want.” He started the car and slid out of the driveway while I gathered my hair and shoved it over my shoulders, behind my neck, where I’d be less likely to see it. I’d curled it and tried to pin it up in numerous different ways, attempting to hide the pink, but no updo looked right, so I’d finally settled for a half-up, half-down style.
I shifted in my seat and adjusted my skirt. The fabric felt a little clingy. Should I have picked a different dress? Maybe one with more coverage. While there wasn’t anything indecent about this one, I still felt exposed. I thought the shawl would help, but it was rather thin, and what if I got cold?
“You’re gonna have a great time.” Harvey smiled at me. “I promise.”
I wanted to believe that, but there were too many unknowns for me to relax. Was this really a date, or not? Would I make a fool of myself somehow? Worse, would I embarrass Harvey?
“I’m sorry I’ll be busy with the wedding party a lot of the time, but that’s the price—I mean privilege—of being brother of the bride.”
“Of course, no problem. I understand.” But I was already thinking ahead to arrival and how I’d have to sit in the church by myself for at least an hour or two before the service began. The same church I’d been humiliated in and told myself I would never return to. Rather ironic. I squeezed my knuckles.
“You’re welcome to stay in the car and read until the wedding starts if you’d be more comfortable that way.”
Tempting, but no. I squared my shoulders. “No, that’s what a recluse would do, and I’ve decided I’m not going to be one anymore.”
He gave me a glance, and I caught a glimmer of admiration. “Good, ’cause I actually don’t have any books for you to read in here, anyway. Unless you count the car manual.”
Funny guy. “I have a paperback in my purse.”
That pulled his gaze from the road. “You do?”
“I mean, it’s just a little one. In case of an emergency.”
His brows arched in disbelief.
“A boredom emergency. What? That’s a real thing.” In my life, anyway. Not that I thought I’d ever be in danger of being bored with him, but I didn’t know how much time, if any, we’d really be spending together. I was going to the wedding for Sarah, not for him, and I shouldn’t forget that fact. I folded my arms and cupped my elbows. “I think I’ll stop talking now.”
Harvey laughed. “No, don’t. It’s very entertaining.”
I slid him a look through narrow eyes, his good humor drawing a smile from me. A couple of butterflies fluttered in the enclosure as they readjusted their positions on the mesh walls.
The ones in my stomach fluttered too. “Okay.” I decided to ask him something I’d been wondering. “How come I never met you back when I met Sarah?”
“Right? How rude of her not to introduce us.”
“Seriously, Harvey. I never saw you around, not even at church.”
“Maybe you just don’t remember.”
“I would,” I insisted. “You’re memorable.”
His head swiveled my way with a smirk. “Thanks, so are you.” He fiddled with the radio for a second, but didn’t switch it on. “You didn’t see me because I was away on a mission trip, to Peru.”
“Wow, that sounds like. . .” Like you have a huge heart that cares about others, and a good soul that loves God. “. . . like a big commitment.”
“It was only for two weeks. Did some chapel-building, helped some locals, that kind of thing. Wasn’t nearly enough time for all that needed doing.”
I looked at him with probably a little too much admiration.
He shook his head. “Don’t start thinking that makes me some kind of great guy. I’ve got lots to make up for. I was reckless back in the day, not very considerate. Dated a new girl almost every week.”
He rubbed his chin. “I won’t tell you the names some people called me, though I probably d
eserved them. I liked having a good time—I mean, what I thought was a good time. It wasn’t, not really. Used to make Sally so mad when I hooked up with her friends.”
I nodded slightly, at a loss for words but feeling I needed to respond somehow.
Harvey made a right turn and we traveled past a tidy row of two-story houses before pausing at a stop sign. He glanced down both streets before moving forward. “I used to go to church for all the wrong reasons. Out of habit. And for the girls. The attention went to my head. Seemed like they all had their eyes on me.”
“What, were you like the only guy at church?”
He chuckled. “Felt like it, but no.” His tone sobered. “The girls’ parents sure didn’t like me, not that I cared. Then one day I just stopped going to church altogether. I preferred sleeping in on Sundays, nowhere I had to be, no dressing up.”
He was quiet for so long that I asked, “So what changed?”
A moment hummed between us before he spoke. “One Sunday, I was out for a ride on my bike, and I took a turn too sharp. Never even saw the loose gravel.”
He paused, and my hand rose to my throat.
“I wiped out—flew off my bike and skidded across the road. I was a mess, barely conscious. Luckily someone came by and called for help.”
I squeezed my eyes briefly and tried not to picture it, tried not to feel sick.
“But that fall, well, I guess it was what I needed to knock some sense into me.”
He inclined his head. “An empty, shallow life, it isn’t much of a life. And at the end of it—which I thought it was for me that day—that’s not an end I want to face. Not alone. Not without God.”
Clearing his throat, Harvey stared intently out the window. “So I came back. Got my priorities straight.” He tapped the steering wheel. “God’s real good at giving second chances. Third, fourth, and hundredth ones, too. Good thing, ’cause I screw up a lot.”
He’d never sounded so serious. I tried to process everything he was and wasn’t saying.
“So despite appearances, I’m actually not perfect.” He winked. “But I’ll admit I was once stupid enough to think I was.”
He glanced at me, overly long. “I learned something else, too, laid up in a hospital bed for days. The girl I’d been seeing at the time couldn’t even stand to look at me. In her defense, I looked terrible. Still, she couldn’t wait to leave. She didn’t say it, but I knew she was worried I’d stay ugly.”
The Butterfly Recluse Page 7