Miss Match (37 page)

Officially in Colossians. I plop my Bible on my lap and grin. I think even
if I weren't a Christian and weren't falling head over heels for Christ, I'd
still love the feel of the pages and the floppiness of the leather.

"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all
creation."

Now, that's a cool thought!

I wake the next morning to electric guitars, tired and a tad depressed.
My second to last Saturday in my own sweet bed, and I have to wake up
to an alarm.

Blegh.

Dad is at the table when I plod downstairs. The scent of lemongrass
tea permeates the kitchen.

Double blegh.

He looks up from his paper. He's fully dressed, belt and everything.
"Morning, Honey. You're helping Lex paint today, right?"

"Yup „

He frowns at my choice of paint clothes. "Laurie," he starts. Stops.

I pour my coffee. He's obviously deciding whether or not to give his
grown daughter advice on her clothes.

"Laurie, isn't that the sweat outfit Laney gave you for your birthday?"
He goes for it.

I look down at the sky blue velour track pants and matching jacket
I'm wearing. "Yeah, my fifteenth birthday."

"Still, you really want to get paint on those?"

I add sugar to the coffee. "I'd rather not get paint on anything."

"And you're wearing your hair down?" Dad's tsking.

I swipe it back behind my ear with my left hand, my right hand stirring my sugared and milked coffee. "Planned on it. At least until we start
painting. Keeps the cold air off my neck."

Dad's fear of sickness keeps him from arguing with that one.

I join him at the table. "What are you going to do today?"

"Lex asked if I wanted to meet you four for lunch."

I brighten. "That'd be fun."

"Think so?" Dad's cautious.

"Yeah. You should come." I sip my coffee, looking down at the table.
"Then you could get to know Ryan a little bit."

He fingers his cup of tea. "You like him, don't you?" he asks, not
looking at me.

I bite my lip. "Maybe," I say quietly. I can't explain it. Ryan's doing
an awfully good job of popping up in my thoughts and prayers lately.

"Are you going to marry him?" Dad sips his tea, his fingers shaking
slightly.

Poor Dad.

"Not anytime soon," I soothe.

The doorbell rings. I stand. "See you at lunch, Dad." I kiss the top of
his head and go to the front door.

Ryan is there grinning, holding two take-out cups from Merson's. I feel myself getting sappy.

"I like you," I tell him.

"Hi there." He smiles.

"Hold on a sec." I turn to get my coat, but he catches my sleeve and
hands me one of the cups.

"For your dad."

I give him a look and pop off the lid.

The aroma makes my eyes water. "You brought my dad lemongrass
tea." I smile, even more syrupy.

"You should have seen me trying to talk Shawn into making it."

I raise my eyebrow, replacing the lid. "Funny?"

"Hilarious. The man now has his door open trying to get the
smell out."

I take the tea back to the kitchen and give it to Dad. He inhales
and smiles.

"Nice boy," he comments.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Laurie?"

I stop on my way out. "What's up, Dad?"

He lifts his cup. "You can marry him."

I blink. "O-okay."

Stumbling back to the entry, I find my coat and gloves. Ryan is still
outside, holding the other cup and staring at the overgrown rosemary
bush by the door, the only thing still green in our yard.

"Ready?" he asks, handing me the coffee. "Here. Happy Valentine's
Day."

"Thanks!" I smile and follow him to the truck. He opens the door
and I climb in.

"Hey, Ryan?" I say when he's safely buckled into the driver's seat.

"Hey, Laurie."

"Your sister is in love."

He rolls his eyes. "Gee, really? Who with?"

"I think Nick will ask Ruby to marry him."

He looks over at me, offering a challenge. "What if I don't think he's
good enough?"

"Then you're a dimwitted numbskull and I'll have to ask you to pull
over so I can get out."

He grins. "Why?"

"Because I'm not allowed to ride with dimwitted numbskulls."

He laughs. "I can just see that as rule number twenty-one on
your list."

"Actually, it's twenty-eight. Twenty-one is to avoid toxic substances
at all costs." I grin up at him. "So we're painting today."

He smiles at me. "I noticed your clothes. But your hair's not pulled
back. You'll get paint in it." He pokes at it in emphasis.

I wave my hands. "Trust me, Ryan. Lexi will make sure I don't. She's
a stickler about my hair."

"Good."

I start up the sidewalk. "Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome." He crinkles his eyes at me and walks beside me to
the front door.

Lexi opens it before we knock. "Hey, guys."

"You're a peeper," I accuse her. She is decked out in ripped jeans and a
sweatshirt that says, "A TRUCKER HONKED AND I FLATTENED
HIS CARCASS. ROUTE 66. 1996." A bright polka-dot bandana covers
her hair Aunt Jemima style.

"And proud of it too," she answers me. "Hi, Ryan," she croons. "Good
to see you again. Thanks so much for doing this. Nate's been practically
hopping he's so excited."

Ryan laughs. "I hope I don't let him down."

"Honey, the fact that you actually showed up is enough to make his
day." She touches his shoulder as she talks to him. Lexi has always been
very touchy-feely.

"He's out back?" Ryan asks.

"Yeah."

"Have fun painting," he tells me. Winks and leaves.

Lexi waits until the back door closes behind him. "He's a keeper,"
she declares.

"You know, Lexi, sometimes I wish you'd just come right out and tell
me exactly what you think of people." I go into her living room, which
has been attacked by plastic sheeting.

"I'll try to do better." She grins. Almost immediately, the grin is
replaced with a frown. "You are not ready to paint."

I kick off my shoes and spread out my hands. "Yes, I am. Look, I've
got my old sweats on. Got my shoes off. Set my coffee down."

"Your hair is not properly protected. You will get paint in your hair
and won't he able to get it out for a week." She puts her hands on her hips
in lecture mode.

"I couldn't find anything other than my lucky Goofy baseball cap
at home."

She sighs dramatically. "There's another handkerchief on my bed."

"Ha! I knew you'd look out for me."

"What are older sisters for? Go get it so we can start. The boys are
already sawing their hearts out."

I ponder whether or not that would make a good song as I go down
the hallway to Lexi's blue-and-white-checked room and swipe up the
purple and silver bandana, tying it gangster style on top of my head, only
covering my forehead and the hair above my ears. There's a huge bouquet
of red roses and daisies on her bureau. Aw!

"How's this, Lex?" I ask, going back into the living room.

She turns to look and rolls her eyes. "More than half your hair is
hanging out the back."

I fluff my hair, which is curling out of control because once again
I skipped the hair fixing in favor of sleep. "See, but that adds feminine
appeal. You've already caught yourself a husband. You don't need to have
appeal."

She frowns. "I don't think that was a compliment."

"Me, neither, actually."

She picks up one of the heavy-duty cans and swings it around in
an odd little dance I think is an attempt to mix the paint. "And I think
the kid outside with my husband would find you appealing even if you
were in a toga with an olive branch on your head." She wrinkles her nose.
"And the sap from the branch dripping down your forehead."

She uses both hands now, turning in a huge circle, twisting the
can up and down, up and down, barely missing the crammed together,
plastic-swathed furniture in the center of the room.

"A toga?" I question, grinning.

She giggles and smacks the can on the plastic-covered couch.
Oogumph, the can gurgles.

"Honey! You made me throw off my balance." She comes to a stop.

"That is probably a good thing. You looked ridiculous."

She giggles again. "Ah, but I've already caught myself a husband, so
I can look ridiculous anytime I want, right, Baby?"

"Right."

She schlumps the paint can to the floor and produces a screwdriver
from the back pocket of her jeans. Deftly she plugs the business end of
the screwdriver into the lip of the paint can and yanks down.

Rather than hearing the squwaksug sound a paint can makes when
opening, we hear absolutely nothing. She pulls down farther, eye level
with the floor now.

"Uh, Lex?"

"HushI'mconcentrating," she says through gritted teeth.

"Lex, it's not opening."

"Shutuporyou'regoingtodothisnext." Her veins stand out in her
forehead.

"I'm sure that one of the guys could do this easily."

She lets go of the screwdriver, huffs out her breath, and backhands
her unsweaty forehead. "You would make a very bad suffragette."

"Lucky. 'Cause I'm not one. I don't understand that movement. If
someone can do something for me so I don't have to do it, I'm willing to
let them." I step to the back door and open it, letting in a jet stream of
cold air. "Hey!" I yell. Nate and Ryan each have one end of a plank. They
both look up.

"Need something, Laur?" Ryan asks.

"Can one of you come get this paint can open?" I rub my arms,
trying to keep them from getting frostbite.

"Sure!" they both say at the same time.

I go back inside.

Lexi stands frowning at the paint can, screwdriver in one hand.

"Trying to open it with the power of your brain?" I ask. "That only
works in Star Wars."

"No, I'm lecturing it."

"Silently?"

"In paint-speak." She narrows her eyes. "Glug-glurp-blug-blug," she
exclaims, shaking the screwdriver at it.

I fall over and conk my head on the plastic-coated love seat.

Lexi grins.

The boys come in, breathless. Ryan frowns at the tears rolling from
my eyes. "You okay?"

I nod, my lungs hurting from laughing so hard.

"She just had a bonding moment with the paint," Lexi says. Then she
chuckles. "Get it? Bonding? Paint?"

Nate and Ryan exchange glances that say, Are these women crazy, or
have they simply reverted into mindless acts of near catastrophe and should
we leave them in this state of being?

Then Nate shrugs, takes the screwdriver from his bonkers wife, and
cranks the paint can open.

Ryan kneels on the floor beside me as I sit up, heave a breath, and
swipe at my cheeks.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Do you think a song titled, `I'm Pining for Maple Syrup by Sawing
Your Heart Out' would make it on CMT's top ten?"

He blinks and looks back at Nate and Lexi. Lexi goes into gales of
laughter with me, and Nate shrugs again.

Ryan pats my shoulder in his annoying yet kind of cute way. "I
wouldn't get my heart set on it."

"`Would You Love Me If My Wood House Would Sing'?"

Ryan grins and leaves me on the floor. "Nate, I think we should get
out of here fast."

"I'm with you, bro."

They hightail it out the door and in two seconds flat have the plank
back in their hands.

Lexi snickers. "Great songs, Pumpkin. How about this one?" She
gestures toward the guys and sings the title. "You Built Me a Board Deck
and Then I Decked Your ... Sword."

"Awful, Lex."

"Yeah, you're right. Come on, let's paint."

By lunchtime we have the cranberry wall finished and two of the cream
walls done. Half a wall and the trim over the kitchen counter remain.

Lexi sets her paint roller on the tray and puts her hands on her hips.
"Guess we should get lunch ready."

I use my wrist to rub the itchy bandana. "Uh-huh."

She marches into the kitchen and starts scrubbing her hands. I collapse on the couch, my arm sore from rolling and my toes sore from gripping the ladder rung with them.