She's Out of Control (35 page)

My phone trills and the calendar-boy contractor is pounding away on the bathroom next door. Is it any wonder I can't concentrate? “Hello,” I answer the phone with a bit of attitude. No caller ID. Sigh.

“Ashley Stockingdale, please.”

“Who's calling, please?”

“Ashley, it's me, Tracy. From work.”

“Tracy, I'm sorry. How are things going? Did you find everything you needed for the board? I hope you're not having any trouble because of me.”

“On the contrary. They saw your draft for that new product, and Ashley, they went crazy! They want to know if you can come back in today. They'll end your probation period and promise not to put any of this Hans business on your permanent record.”

Act. Don't react.

“Tracy, can you put them off for the day? I just need a little time to gather my thoughts.”

“No problem, Ashley. I'll just say I didn't get a hold of you. I'm so happy I'll have you back. These men are rotten bosses!”

“Tracy?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. For believing me about Hans and fighting for me when I didn't deserve it.”

“Us girls gotta stick together. It's a dog's world out there.”

“Amen to that.” We laugh, and I hang up the phone with more confidence. I pick up Rhett's leash and grab my cell phone when the oddest thought occurs to me. Without really contemplating, I call up Kevin's pager and punch my number in.

“Come on, Rhett. Let's go play fetch on the beach.” I grab my journal and a jacket. I don't feel good enough to slap on makeup, so I go au naturel. I dig through the kitchen and find some brie and crackers left over from this week's Bible study. I grab that and a Diet Coke and a banana and put them all in a basket, with a bowl and some bottled waters for Rhett.

As I'm exiting the house, I dial Kevin.

“Hi, Kevin, I'm not really sure why I called, actually.”

“Because it's in your Blackberry. I know you're a slave to the PDA, so I've made your PDA my slave.”

“Yes, that was quite ingenious of you to figure out the standing appointment feature. I see where the Mensa membership comes into play.”

“You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Um, no.” Rhett is pulling on his leash, so I head to the car and start it, allowing the convertible's top to lower. “Rhett and I are going to the beach,” I say, somewhat hopefully.

“I wish I weren't on call,” Kevin says.

I shrug. “I understand. It's not all of us who can live a life of leisure and unemployment continuously.”

“You'll have your job back soon, Ashley.”

I nod, even though he can't see me through the phone. “I start back today. But I still need a time to gather my thoughts. I've been going full-steam ahead in the wrong direction. I found a list of qualities I didn't want in a man. Today, I'm going to make a list of qualities I do want.”

“Well, that's simple. You want what every girl wants: a good Christian pediatric surgeon, who loves children and would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

I feel my face flame. But I have to say, his list makes a good deal of sense.

“And would buy me a two-carat princess-cut diamond,” I add facetiously.

“Ooh, thank you for playing our game, but that is our parting gift. I was hoping you were more the antique chip-diamond sort of girl.”

I start to giggle. “No, I'm really sorry to let you down, but actually, I am the two-carat sort. Remember that old African tale about the seven-cow wife, and how a husband paid seven cows for his wife when the going rate was only one cow?”

“I'm not familiar with that story. But I have a feeling you're going to enlighten me?”

“The husband paid seven cows because he wanted a seven-cow wife. I, however, prefer to think of myself in carats. I'm a two-carat wife.”

“I prefer to think in terms of rubies, and you're worth far above them,” he says, reciting Proverbs 31. Our joking banter dies in his words. I got myself in trouble once before by not stopping and hearing the voice of God. I can't do it again.

“I need to get to the beach. Rhett's getting anxious and there's nothing more lovely than a beach in winter.”

“Be careful,” Kevin warns.

“I intend to.” I hang up the phone, wrap my hound's-tooth scarf around my hair, and place my DKNY sunglasses on my face. Grab-bing the steering wheel, I look to my copilot. “Ready, Rhett?”

He whimpers, and I start up the car with a roar. We don't get out of the driveway when my phone trills again. “Hello, Ashley Stockingdale,” I say professionally as I remove the scarf from my ear.

“It's Seth.”

My reaction is not registering. I don't know what I feel at the sound of his name. Really, I guess I feel nothing, and that's a good thing.

“Hi, Seth, how's India?”

“The software engineers aren't getting it, and they can't make the telecommunications transformers work. We're coming back to America. This was a lesson in futility.”

“You'll have to be sure and see Rhett when you come back. He's gotten so big, Seth.” I rev my engine again and squeal out of the driveway as I put the cordless feature into my ear.

“I'm
back now, Ashley. The company is moving back within the month.”

Think of your list, Ashley. His presence means nothing to you. You are a woman in control of her destiny
.
Because God is in control.

“Maybe I'll see you around then. I need to get going. I have a date this afternoon.” I look at Rhett and pat his head while I push the “end call” button.

I don't enjoy the drive to the ocean, like I usually do. Although the sun is out and the air is crisp among the great redwoods, my heart is in utter turmoil. Life used to be so easy when it was about my theories and the way life should be. But life isn't that way. It doesn't fol-low the road I've mapped out, but it's more fun than I planned for.

I drive into the beach parking lot, and my eyes fall to the page where my Bible is opened. There's only one verse highlighted on the page, and it reads, “The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life.” And it dawns on me, like the sun breaking over San Francisco Bay, that I am controlled by my whims.

Life is a decision. Every day I wake up and decide who I'm going to be. Brea decided to be a mother. I decided to be a woman whose life was controlled by utter chaos. Well, no more. From this day forward I make the decision to live life to the fullest. And I know exactly what that means.

36

B
ack at home, I'm still thinking about life. I'm thinking that living out loud means living truthfully. Not just in my faith and deeds, but in my emotions. We live in a world where it's safer to protect your heart from disaster. I've done that by staying pure, but you know what? The Bible also says to live free of fear, that fear doesn't come from the Lord. I look it up in 1 John, just to make sure, and there it is: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear . . . the one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

And, you know? I've had such a full-frontal view of that fear: Seth. He's afraid to commit to a church, to a job, to a person . . . and eerily, I think a little got passed on to me, because hello? Kevin is fabulous and interested—and interesting. It's better to walk the path and find out if something might happen than to protect my heart with Kevlar and never know for certain! Right?

Doorbell.

I open the door and Rhett rushes toward Kevin, who looks heavenly in his leather bomber jacket and brown dress pants. He's woefully out of style, but looks so hot, I could really care less.

“Hi!” He takes Rhett's snout in his hands. “How ya doing, boy?”

If he notices my new dress, I am so in love
. “Hi.”

“Wow, beautiful dress. Is that new?” He's in.

“Yes. I went shopping for our date.” Okay, this is honesty at its barest. A woman generally never admits that she's shopped to look good for a person, until you're practically engaged. This is for Kevin, and I'm telling him.
No fear. No fear.

“Well, you did well.”

I did. Fifty percent off at Ann Taylor. Great scoop-necked blouse in black and a red pencil skirt with black embroidery and best yet? My Stuart Weitzman pumps in red. Now, you might think red pumps are just a bad investment, but I have had these for years, and every time I wear them? I feel like queen of the runway. So worth every outrageous penny. While I haven't trained Rhett out of his hosiery fetish, I have found that opaque hose do not run as easily. See? Nearly every problem is fashion-solved.

“I have play tickets for
Les Miserables
in the city.” He holds up two tickets and I reach for them.

“No way! It's my very favorite!” I break into song. “Without him, the world around me changes . . .”

“Ah, an Eponine fan, but you shall never know unrequited love if I have anything to say about it.”

Kevin models life without fear, does he not?

“Marius has nothing on you, Kevin. You wouldn't fall for the simpering Cosette.”

“True. I like my women with a little bite to them.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Okay, yum.
“Will Kay be all right with Rhett all night? The play is long.”

Kay walks into the room, and I've got that pleading grin on my face. “What now?” she asks.

“Kevin has play tickets in the city.”

“And this affects me how? As if I didn't know.” She looks down at Rhett, who lifts his head.

“Go,” she says. “The singles group is coming over to watch a movie. Well, those of us without dates.”

Hmm. Been there, and it's fun actually.

You know, living with Kay and being truly single has been the best part of my life. Because I realize now that it isn't so bad. I had so much fear about living alone, without a boyfriend and having a woman roommate. How pathetic I thought that looked. But you know? We have so much fun! We can go out to eat when we feel like it. We can shop. We can take Rhett running at Rancho San Antonio. We can hang out with the singles group when they're doing something fun. We can go out to a movie after a long day at work . . .

It's just a good life, and I think that's what got me over the fear thing. The worst thing that can happen if Kevin dumps me—or hey, if I dump him—is that I'll go back to the life I live. And that's just not as bad as living in constant hope of the phone ringing, and the beggarly state I lived in with Seth. Life with good friends is so much more vivid than life with a mediocre boyfriend.

“What are you watching tonight?” Kevin asks.

“We knew Ashley was going out, so no chick flicks. I imagine it will be science fiction of some sort.”

“Kay, you like my chick flicks. Admit it, I've expanded your world.”

She crosses her arms. “I am an engineering director, and I could have lived my entire life without knowing
How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days
.”

I look at Kevin, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “What are you grinning at?”

“I'm just thinking of some of those ways: get a really big dog that has attention deficit disorder, question your allegiance to a bald engineer, call a guy on his parents' racism issue . . . I could go on.”

“So could I.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“Possess
racist parents, tell a woman she's with the wrong man, work horrendous hours, and keep a beeper with you to go off at inappropriate moments.”

Kevin comes toward me and wraps me in his arms. “You win, you win.”

I snuggle my face into his chest and breathe in deeply. He smells divine.
I do win.

Dinner is one of the most elegant places I've ever been. A little hole in the wall in San Francisco. There are appetizers of raspberry-pecan salad, and then a luscious cream of mushroom soup, followed by a main course of artichoke chicken over wild rice.

“Dessert?” Kevin asks me.

I clutch my stomach. “I'm so full.”

“But we're going to be walking to the theater. And everyone knows dessert fills a different part of the stomach.”

“Is that a medical opinion?”

“Absolutely.”

He orders a single plate of chocolate mousse and proceeds to hold the spoon before me. I shake my head and he stuffs the spoon in my clamped mouth. “Oh, it's to die for!”

He drops the spoon on the table and leans over our intimate table. “I love you, Ashley.”

Then he kisses me on the cheek with his hand placed perfectly behind my neck.
I love you, too.
I try to force the words out, but fear overtakes me and I can't say it. I mean, it could be the chocolate talking. A woman should never admit to love after mousse.

“We'd better get to the play,” I say, after glancing at my watch.

He smiles gently and nods his head. “Waiter? Can we get our bill. We've got a show to catch.”

I'll regret this moment for a lifetime. I just know it.
Perfect love casts out fear
. We exit the restaurant, and Kevin's demeanor hasn't changed at all. He grabs my hand and points out a dress in a shop window. “That would look gorgeous on you. I wish they were open.”

“I love you, too, Kevin.”

He stops on the sidewalk and envelops my face in his masculine, skilled hands. We gaze into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity, and my stomach just does its share of somersaults and I feel ridiculous for ever having fear. Jumping off the cliff is how you feel the hand of God underneath you.

37

N
ew Year's Eve, it's the time of resolutions and another upcoming birthday. I will turn thirty-two. I am still not married like I'd planned to be, but I guess I've met my resolutions, because it doesn't concern me. The Reasons are having their annual New Years' gala at San Francisco's Gift Center, courtesy of Kay's administrative skills (I know, I know, she fell off the wagon), and I have another date with my Prince Charming: Dr. Kevin Novak.