Miss Match (19 page)

"Ah, then I have the place for you. I hope it's open on Sundays." He
picks a row of chairs and lets me enter first. "Here." He passes my Bible.
"Be sure and save a seat for your dad."

"And my sisters. And their families." I pull off my coat and scarf and
drape them along the row. He watches me, opening his mouth to speak,
then closing it. "What?" I demand.

"Nothing. When do the shoes come off so you can save those last
two seats?"

"Shut up and give me your coat."

He hands me his beat-up leather jacket that barely passes for a coat.

Lexi sidles up beside me. "Baby, thanks for saving seats."

I read her look even before she opens her mouth. "Lexi, this is
Ryan."

Ryan stands immediately and shakes her hand, then Nate's.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ryan." Lexi smiles coyly.

"You work in construction?" Nate says, setting his and Lexi's Bibles
on two of the saved seats.

"Yes, I do."

"What are you doing this Saturday?" Nate asks.

Ryan shrugs. "I don't think I have plans."

"Great! Want to help me lay out a new porch?"

"A porch?" I look at Nate, incredulous. "Nate, it's thirty degrees outside. And you want to build a porch?"

"Sure. That way it's done when it's time to sit out there with
lemonade."

Ryan laughs. "Sure, I'll help. What time?"

"Say eleven?"

"Laurie, you can come too," Lexi says.

Uh-oh.

Now here's a nice little domestic scene. The men outside pounding
a porch together, the women inside making hot chocolate. I can see this
one coming.

Nate will give the standard You-Hurt-Her, You'll-Be-Fish-Bait
speech in between hammer blows, while Lexi gives the standard PlayHard-to-Get-or-Wind-Up-with-a-Lousy-Diamond lecture.

Afterward, thoroughly humiliated and ragged, Ryan and Laurie will
drive away contemplating both the monastery/nunnery option and the
Guess-We-Could-Elope-and-Move-Far-Far-Away alternative.

I open my mouth to give any sort of excuse to keep from being there
on Saturday.

"Why don't you come, Laurie?" Ryan says. Only it isn't a command,
as Brandon would have done.

"Okay," I hear myself saying. "Saturday."

"This is a big mistake," I protest to Ryan later as he opens his car door
for me.

"What are you talking about?"

"Saturday. Building a porch. Making hot chocolate. Speeches."

Ryan looks at me like I've been bowing to Tina Braxton again. "Beg
your pardon?"

"I just know we're going to regret this. And where are you taking
me, pray tell?"

"The other day I was on lunch break and I drove past this little place.
I only had like half an hour, so I went in." His grin broadens. "You're
going to love it."

A moment later, he turns on a side street and stops in front of a
corner building with a big sign painted on the windows: Merson's.

"Who's Merson?"

He shrugs as he opens the front door for me.

A blast of warm air followed by the knee-weakening scent of freshly
baked gingerbread and roasted coffee hits me in the face.

I inhale. "Lead me in, 0 Favored One."

Tables are arranged sporadically throughout the little restaurant. A
long counter stretches along the back side, and-get this-a ceiling-tofloor glass contraption stocked with every kind of dessert imaginable fills
the entire back wall.

I could kiss Ryan.

Struck speechless, I stare in open-mouthed wonder at the sight.

"Can I help you?" a tall, skinny guy with a shock of badly highlighted blond hair asks.

Ryan glances at me and I guess realizes I'm still in shock. "I think
we'll need a few minutes," he says.

"Sure. I'll be in the back. Just ring the little dinger here when you're
ready." He bangs an old-style gold desk bell a few times as an example.

Meanwhile, I'm in paradise.

I find my voice.

"Chocolate pie, chocolate cake, chocolate pudding. . ."

"Laurie, you skipped the rhubarb pie, banana cream pie, and bread
pudding." Ryan points to the case.

I make a face. "Yucky. Blegh. Gross."

I look at the menu suspended above the counter. Search. Find.

"I know what I want."

He grins at me. "You want to do the honors?"

I take great pleasure in slamming the dinger a few times. The
guy comes around the corner, rubbing his hands on a dishtowel, his
eyebrows raised.

"Dealing with a master, I see." He tucks the towel in his apron.
"What can I get you folks?"

Ryan looks at me. I clear my throat. "I would like a slice of your
chocolate pecan cheesecake and a cup of very hot coffee."

"Room for cream?"

"Absolutely, if it's just milk."

He nods, smiling. "And for you?"

Ryan purses his lips. "Key lime pie. And coffee, as well."

"Room for cream?"

"No, thank you."

He scribbles down the order on a piece of paper and punches in the
numbers on a calculator. "Six dollars and sixty cents."

Ryan pays while I take the tray to a table by the window. "Thanks,
Ryan." I sit and pull my coffee over. It's good-better than good.

He pockets his wallet and sits opposite me. "You're welcome.
Though I feel like I'm abetting your sugar addiction. This isn't a very
healthy lunch."

"I didn't feel like being healthy today anyway."

He hands me a fork. "When have you ever felt like being healthy?"

"Last week. I ordered a salad."

He gasps dramatically.

"Yes, I know. It was a pivotal moment in my life. Especially since
I didn't order dessert with it. That is how you balance meals out, you
know."

"Actually, I don't know."

I fork off a creamy bite. "See, if I had wanted to be healthy, I would have
ordered a salad, then gotten the cheesecake, because since I ate the salad, I
would then be able to eat the cheesecake guilt-free." The cake melts in my
mouth and I decide where I want to die.

Ryan is still talking. "Have you ever felt guilty about
eating dessert?"

I nod. "Only once. I was at Laney's house and there was this big
chocolate cake on the counter, so I got a hunk of it and ate it only to find
out that Laney was going to take it to her Bible study. I felt guilty then."

He laughs. "I liked meeting your sisters."

"They liked meeting you."

"This pie is excellent. Want some?"

I lick my fork clean and take a little piece. Sour! I smack my lips.
"Ack! All the saliva in my mouth has vanished!" Drain the rest of
my coffee.

Ryan shakes his head. "You're not dramatic in the least, are you?"

"No, sir. I'm demure." I bat my eyelashes.

"More coffee?" Man-in-Apron asks, pot poised.

I smile up at him. "I like you."

He pours it, laughing.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Shawn Merson."

I point. "Like the Merson on the door?"

"One and the same. And you are?"

"I'm Laurie. This is Ryan."

He nods politely. "Well, I'm glad you came. Hope to see you around
more often."

"Oh, trust me, Honey. You'll see me more often than you'd like to."

He grins and leaves.

Ryan looks at me. "You have the talent for making friends."

"Yes, but keeping them is a different matter."

"Ruby likes you."

"Correction. Ruby tolerates me. We haven't reached the liking
stage yet.

Ryan angles his head. "I don't know, Laurie. She was ecstatic when
she saw us holding hands at the studio."

"Yes, well, I've sometimes worried about Ruby's brain. The lack of
sugar can cause serious mental issues, you know."

Ryan shrugs. "She seems pretty coherent to me."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"Can I taste your cheesecake?"

"Of course."

He takes a chunk from it, avoiding the nuts, I notice. "You don't
like pecans?"

"Not at all." He sticks the fork in his mouth, grimaces, and swallows a lot of coffee.

Didn't we just do this?

He gasps. "You like things really sweet."

"Thus the reason I've never gotten a cat."

"I meant the food, Laurie." He leans his elbows on the table. "Have
you ever had a pet?"

"In second grade I babysat a parrot for a man I met in the
grocery store."

"Second grade?" Ryan is incredulous.

"Yes, second grade. What the man didn't tell me was that it was a
permanent babysitting job because he moved and left the bird."

He starts laughing. "What'd you do with it?"

"I kept it for a while. But it only knew three words and two of them
I wasn't allowed to say. Dad found someone who would take it, and we
gave it to them."

Ryan grins. "Did you like having it?"

"What I remember of it, I did. But Dad and Laney cleaned the cage,
so my memories probably aren't the full story. Lexi has a dog that we
watch on occasion. Dad isn't a big pet person."

We decide we will go to Vizzini's for the Big Wednesday Date.

"Bye, Shawn!" I call as we leave.

He waves at me from behind the counter. "Bye, Laurie. See
you later."

Ryan drops me off at my house, and I change into my favorite sweats and
open the curriculum.

Lesson 1: Apostleship

Read Romans 1.•1-7

I do it.

I settle into the couch, Bible in my lap, the curriculum spread out
on the cushions.

I rub my head. Why did I ever consent to this?

Woe is me.

The first question in the curriculum catches my eye.

"Paul was set apart by God. Do you believe everyone is set apart?"

"Hey, Laurie!"

"In the living room!" I yell.

Brandon saunters in, carrying two extra-large coffees. He hands one
to me, smiling. "Hey there, stranger."

"I love you, Brandon, you know that, right?" I take the coffee, pop
off the plastic lid, and inhale the scent.

"I know. What're you up to?" He makes himself comfortable on the
other sofa.

"Small-group prep for the middle school girls. I need to have it done
by tomorrow." I sip my coffee. It isn't quite as good as Merson's, but it
isn't bad. I look at him. "Do you believe everyone is set apart by God?"

"Would that be the same question as do you think everyone has a
purpose defined by God?"

Purpose. The word sets off a dinger in my brain, taking me back to
those verses in Philippians. I think about it. "I guess so," I answer him.

"Yeah, I believe that." He cradles his coffee against his chest with
one hand and gestures with the other. "It's the whole sovereignty of God
thing we were talking about earlier, Nutsy."

I nod and make a note in the margin of the book, praying we are
allowed to mark them up. Sovereignty of God.

"So what do you think I'm set apart for?" I chew the end of
the pen.

"Coffee. Chocolate. Photography." He shrugs. "Marriage, probably."

"Okay, hold up on that one."

"Junior high girls."

"I'm not getting married."

"Romantic comedies."

"Furthermore, I think you know that-"

"Taking care of your dad." He pauses. "And I heard from Ruby who
heard from Nick that you and Ryan are going out on Wednesday."

"Yeah, well." I rub my forehead, trying to come up with a
good reply.

Okay, never mind.

"So what's your defined purpose?" I ask.

"Photography. Management. Baseball games."

"Taunting, ridiculing, and bringing coffee to poor, lack-of-caffeinestricken young women."

"And Arnold Schwarzenegger movies."

I wrinkle my nose. "He talks like he's got a mouthful of
rock candy."

"I thought you liked accents."

"Pretty ones. Australian, for example."

He stands and pats my head.

I bark.

Rolling his eyes, he walks toward the front door. "Get to work!"

I sit with my pen, lips pressed together. Set apart. It's a cool concept,
really. God works everything, including lny life, to the purpose of His
will.

I smile and start writing.