Stay With Me (4 page)

“Well, at least that’s over.” He planted a little
kiss on her cheek. “Next time you don’t have to be such a good sport, okay?
Tell her to leave me alone or you’ll scratch her eyes out or something.”

Afraid of saying something too catty, Rebecca just
smiled.

Chris squeezed her hand, and all of a sudden
everyone around her sang. The song was familiar, even to her. By the time they
hit the chorus, the dance floor had filled and even the people still sitting
were singing along, “What a lady, what a night.” Chris sang, too. She stared at
him as he watched the dance floor, knee bouncing and head bobbing to the music.

Oh my gosh, he’s handsome. What am
I getting myself into?

She tapped her knee to the catchy tune, but even
when Chris leaned in and sang to her, she merely smiled, refusing to sing
along. She hoped he didn’t notice.

 In another forty-five minutes, the crowd had
thinned out considerably, and Chris squeezed her hand and asked if she was
ready to go.

“I’m ready any time you are.”

“Let’s go then.” He stood and pulled her chair out
for her. No one had done that for her before, and Rebecca feared she might land
on the floor. Good thing she was sober.

Chris and Rebecca said their goodbyes to the
remaining people at the table. Alan and Jamie were barely holding each other
up, glassy-eyed and slurring their words. Why were they still here so late in
the evening anyway? What kind of wedding night did that make for?

Chris stopped as they stepped out into the lobby.
“I’m going to run to the restroom before we go. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” She turned to face the reception ballroom
again while toying with the leather strap on her handbag. A door opened and
slammed shut behind her. Chris already? She knew guys could get in and out in a
hurry, but really, he’d just gone in.

It wasn’t Chris, but Megan. She veered to the side
either because she had too much to drink or because she was looking down as she
adjusted her overflowing cleavage in her royal blue, sequined, strapless gown.
When she looked up, she spotted Rebecca and made a beeline for her—the kind a
crazy, drunken bee with poor sensory perception would make. Rebecca tried not
to stare at the stream of toilet tissue she dragged on the heel of her right
shoe.

“Becky, Becky, Becky.” Megan must have enjoyed a
few more drinks since her spin on the dance floor with Chris. “So, where did
you and Chris meet?”

“The grocery store.” She hoped Chris would be out
soon. Megan obviously had a thing for Chris, and this could get unpleasant
fast.

“How cute.” Her voice rose to a tone ordinarily
reserved for fawning over baby animals. “We’ve known each other since we were
like, seven.”

Rebecca nodded and hoped Megan would get bored and
head back into the ballroom. No such luck.

“You know, I always thought I’d be his first.” She
reeked of alcohol and perfume.

“His first?”

“You know, his first time. Between the sheets.” She
tried to adopt a whisper for this delicate subject, but it came out more of a
hoarse slur. “He was so shy though, and then we went off to college. I didn’t
see him for years. Time has been really good to him.” She exaggerated “really”
and leaned into Rebecca as if she were sharing a secret. “But, I guess that
ship left the station years ago, so to speak.” Her flimsy metaphor struck her
as funny, and she snorted and held onto Rebecca’s arm for support. “You take
good care of him tonight. For me.”

Should she let that comment slide or correct her?
Megan probably wouldn’t remember the conversation in the morning, but Rebecca
didn’t want her assuming she and Chris were sexually involved.

“Oh, we’re not, uh, we haven’t known each other all
that long.”

Megan leaned back in an exaggerated fashion.
Fearing Megan might lose her balance, Rebecca grabbed hold of her wrist,
pulling her upright.

“Doesn’t matter.” Then she stilled and wagged her
long finger at Rebecca—the index finger that brandished a shiny bauble. “I saw
you kiss him, you know. You don’t kiss a man like that and then refuse him. Not
after a wedding of all things. Everyone knows if you leave a wedding with
someone, well, you’d better be ready to set sail to the train.”

Her metaphor wasn’t working anymore, but Rebecca
got her meaning. Mercifully, she stopped speaking then, and Rebecca heard one
of the restroom doors open and close again. This time, thank God, it was Chris.

He smiled at Rebecca and put his arm around her
waist. She felt him tense when he recognized Megan, but seeing her condition,
he softened.

“Megan, do you have a ride home?

“Are you offering to take me home, Chris?” She
swayed in his direction, and he steadied her.

“Sorry. I’ve got to get Rebecca back to her place,
but I could call you a cab or see if someone else here can give you a ride.”

“That’s what I thought. Don’t worry about me. Brittany’s the designated driver.” She motioned to a raven-haired beauty in a skin-tight
sheath dress pressed up against one of Alan’s coworkers.

“Okay then,” Chris said and nudged Rebecca toward
the door. “Good night.”

They began to move before Megan could protest. As
they reached the double doors at the exit, Chris removed his jacket and put it
around Rebecca’s shoulders. “It’s gotten a lot cooler out since we came in.”

After he closed the rental car door behind her and
got behind the wheel, he rested his hand on her lap. “Sorry about Megan. That
was probably an uncomfortable, if not painful, conversation. I don’t know how
she managed to get on the guest list. Her brother, Tim, is a buddy of Alan’s,
but I didn’t see him here tonight.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Megan’s
always had kind of a crush on me.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Rebecca tried to keep a
straight face. When Chris gave her a curious look, she laughed.

“You had me there. I started to think you were
hitting the bottle in there when I wasn’t looking.” He smiled, removed his hand
from her lap, and turned the key in the ignition.

She thought he would put the car into gear, but he
paused and looked at her again.

“Megan’s always liked attention, especially from
guys. She’s a flirt, no doubt about it, but it wasn’t until her oldest brother
was killed by an IED in Afghanistan that she dove headlong into the party
scene.”

Rebecca felt a stab of guilt. She had judged Megan
unfairly. She looked down and straightened the fabric in her gown before she
had the nerve to look at Chris. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Chris nodded once and backed out of the parking
space. A comfortable silence ensued, and Rebecca relaxed into her seat. When
Chris passed her exit, a worried shudder ran through her. Where was he taking
her? Was Megan, for all her drunken stupor, right? Did leaving a wedding with a
guy mean you were going to sleep with him?

“Chris, you are taking me home, right?”

“Shoot, I missed your exit, didn’t I? Sorry. I’m
tired, and I’m driving on autopilot I guess. I’ll get off up here and go
around.”

She hadn’t realized the sigh of relief she let out
was audible until Chris looked her way.

“What’s the matter?” He glanced between her and the
road. “Did you think I was kidnapping you?”

She laughed, but she could tell by Chris’s wary
look that he didn’t buy her attempt to laugh it off.

 When they reached her apartment, Chris got out of
the car and then let Rebecca out. He offered his hand, and she took it, holding
on as she gathered her handbag and dress in her other hand and stepped onto the
curb. He held onto her as they walked up the steps and to her door. They slowed
to a stop, and he drew his tux jacket in around her shoulders.

“Thank you, again, for coming with me. I know
weddings can be—” He searched for the right word and hadn’t yet found it when
she finished the sentence for him.

“Beautiful. Magical.”

Chris smiled. “That wasn’t what I was going for.”

“I know, but being there was a blessing. Really.”

“I’m feeling pretty blessed myself.” He inched
closer to her. “So, first taste of champagne and first dance. Could I be lucky
enough to have claimed a first kiss, too?”

Suddenly shy, Rebecca looked down and twisted her
hands. “Unfortunately, no. You’re about eight years too late on that one.” She
looked up again, touched that Chris was grateful to have shared these special
‘firsts’ with her. “But it was our first kiss.”

“Yes, it was.” Chris slid his hand along her neck,
resting his fingers beneath her ear and stroking her cheek with his thumb. His
gaze bored into her, and she thought at first he would kiss her, but he just
stared. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. His eyes were there challenging
her.  Then he smiled like he knew something she didn’t. And then she knew, too.
This was something real, lasting, and powerful. So powerful it frightened her.

He kissed her cheek, and then stopping as if he
hadn’t planned to do it until that very second, moved to kiss her on the lips.
“That would make this our second kiss.” His lips hovered over hers before he
pressed them to her mouth in the most delicate, ethereal kiss she could
imagine. It was as gentle and nonthreatening a kiss as could be, but Rebecca
tensed as she recalled Megan’s assessment of Chris’s expectations for the
night.

Chris released her and gently removed his jacket
from her shoulders. “You okay?”

She nodded, feeling silly now. He clearly hadn’t
intended to do anything but see her to her door.

“I’m going to have to take this back.” He lifted
the tux on his finger. “You’d better get in there before you get cold.”

“Yeah. I’ve got to get in and get to bed. I told my
dad I’d meet him for church in the morning.” She switched her handbag to the
other hand and pulled out her keys. She realized that Chris was waiting to see
that she got in the door, so she fiddled with the key until she turned the dead
bolt and unlocked the door. She faced him one last time. “Good night.”

“It sure was.”

4

Crush

As Chris waited on Rebecca’s doorstep the next
morning, he thought for the hundredth time of their kiss the night before.
Kisses. There were two. He had felt it again just as he had in the grocery
store—that pull on his heart almost from outside himself. After the second
kiss, he knew it hadn’t been the alcohol earlier in the evening. Rebecca
herself was intoxicating.

He had slept soundly but woke before dawn. Since
then he couldn’t get her out of his mind—and not just her kisses. She had
tensed several times during the evening. At the time, he couldn’t understand
why. Thinking back on it, he realized it had been in response to him, as if she
couldn’t decide whether or not to trust him. He’d swear when he missed her exit
last night, she truly feared he’d abscond with her. He needed to reassure her
that he wasn’t a threat or she’d never let her guard down. The sooner he did
that the better. He hoped she hadn’t left yet to meet her dad.

The postwar, white vinyl-sided home reminded Chris
of the neat little houses used in model train displays. Entrance to Rebecca’s
first floor apartment was by way of the concrete porch. A red, white, and blue
pinwheel rooted in a small, sand-filled terra cotta pot spun in the breeze, and
wooden flower boxes lined the ledges. The red geraniums and white petunias were
small, but by the end of the summer they’d be spilling out over the sides of
the containers. A set of bamboo chimes with a wooden pig carved at the top
clattered in the breeze.

In less than a minute, Rebecca answered her door.

“Chris, this is a surprise. I’m about to leave for
my dad’s.” She stepped onto the porch, slung her purse over her shoulder, and
closed the door.

What on earth is she wearing?
The dowdy dress she
wore diminished her natural beauty. The Mennonite girls on last week’s camping
trip wore homespun dresses that fit better than that dull sack. Last night she
had looked like a veritable Cinderella, and today it looked as if she had sent
her fairy godmother packing. Did her father expect her to dress this way for
church?

“I’ll only take a minute. Something’s been
bothering me.” He stepped closer to her as the screen door swung shut behind
her. “Is there anything I said or did that made you think I expected something
from you last night?”

“Not at all. You were a perfect gentleman.”

He didn’t detect anything but sincerity in her
answer.

“What made you so uncomfortable after we left the
wedding?”

Rebecca blew out a breath.

He was right then. She
had
been
uncomfortable.

“It was something Megan said. I know I’m naïve, and
I thought maybe she knew something I didn’t about leaving a wedding with
someone. I’m sorry.”

Megan. Now it made sense. She had filled Rebecca’s
head with nonsense that had caused her unnecessary worry.

“No. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Let
me make this clear. I’ve never thought casual sex was a good idea. That’s not
how my parents raised us, Alan’s previous behavior notwithstanding. Then when I
converted, I couldn’t find any wiggle room in the Bible or the
Catechism
for sex being for anyone but a husband and wife. And believe me, I looked.” He
lifted his eyebrows and sighed, his look of exasperation having the intended
effect of making her laugh. Then he smiled, too. “So, you don’t need to worry
about me expecting something from you or pressuring you or anything like that,
okay?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Chris looked at his wristwatch. “I’ve got to go, or
I’ll be late for church myself. I’ll call you.” He kissed her quickly and
walked her to her car before mounting his motorcycle. The unsettled feeling
that had weighed on him all morning lifted. In its place, a sense of peace
prevailed along with a whole lot of something that felt more and more like
burgeoning love.

***

Rebecca didn’t expect to see Alan hanging out at
his parents’ house the week after his wedding, but when she pulled up alongside
the curb, he stood in the driveway, his hands in his shorts pockets, while
Chris polished the chrome on his motorcycle.

She put the car into park and grabbed the container
of fudge-full peanut butter bars that rested in the passenger seat. Having a
new outlet for her baking had inspired her. It didn’t hurt that Chris showered
her with compliments about her muffins a couple weeks ago.

Chris stood and checked his work before buffing a
spot near the front fender.

“So, is it ready for a joy ride?” Rebecca asked.

“Almost.” He stood again and stuffed his polishing
cloth partway into his back pocket. “Want to join me?”

“I’d—”

“Don’t let him talk you into taking a ride on that
thing,” Alan said. By the way he eyed the container under her arm, she knew
he’d spotted her cookies. There were plenty for Chris to share.

“Number one, he drives like a madman. And number
two, he just wants you to sit close to him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rebecca said. She smiled
and held out the container to Chris. “Surprise inside for you.”

Chris accepted the box and popped a corner of the
lid. “Mmmm. Smells like peanut butter and chocolate.”

“Did I mention I haven’t had breakfast yet?” Alan
wasn’t very subtle.

Chris obliged by opening the container and taking a
cookie for himself before extending the box to Alan.

“Don’t listen to him,” Chris said around mouthfuls
of gooey peanut butter. “He knows very well I’m a safe driver.”

Alan swallowed and wiped a few crumbs from his
mouth before responding. “Notice he didn’t refute the other point about sitting
close to him.” He lifted his eyebrows a couple times before heading toward the
house.

Rebecca laughed. She wouldn’t mind sitting close to
Chris, and although she hadn’t considered it until recently, she really did
want to ride a motorcycle.

Music suddenly blared from the house.

“Sorry,” Alan called from the garage as he adjusted
the volume on an old stereo system.

Rebecca listened to the repeated guitar riff, which
sounded vaguely familiar. It reminded her of an old song, but she couldn’t
place it.  “This song—is it Dave Matthews?”

Chris stopped gathering his cleaning supplies and
listened for several seconds. “No. The Black Keys.”

He wiped one more smear from his motorcycle, intent
on finishing his job before they left for lunch.

Rebecca knew nothing about motorcycles, but she
liked the look of the one in front of her—a black and silver Harley Davidson
with burgundy fenders. It emanated a subtle, sleek masculinity that appealed to
her nearly as much as the man who rode it.

Chris wore brown leather motorcycle boots with a
metal buckle on the side, faded jeans, and a charcoal Henley shirt layered with
a white tee shirt. His sleeves were pushed up nearly to his elbows as he
crouched to dust something from the wheel and then stood. He was a sight to
behold.

“Caught you looking.” He let her squirm for a
couple seconds before he added, “But I’m not sure if it’s at me or my
motorcycle.”

She couldn’t deny she’d been staring. Her cheeks
probably flamed red. “Both. With the motorcycle and the music, you’ve got kind
of a bad boy thing going on.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad boy? Because I’m pretty
sure I’ve never had that label before. I’ve always been the dreaded ‘nice
guy’.”

He stepped toward her, placed his hands on her
waist, and dragged her body flush against his. “Are you saying you like bad
boys?” She could see the teasing in his eyes and the way they crinkled at the
corners.

She pressed her hands against his forearms to put a
little distance between them. “No, but I’m not immune to the appeal. Besides,
you’re just a bad boy poser.”

“Poser?” he said with mock indignation. “Poser?”

So quick she couldn’t evade him, he captured her
again around the waist, spun her around and tickled her sides.
How did he
know?
She doubled over laughing and twisted out of his grip but nearly fell
on the ground in the process.

Chris relented and helped steady her. He had the
advantage now that he knew she was ticklish, and she didn’t doubt he’d use it.
She could tell by the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

The gleam disappeared, leaving something more
earnest in its place. He smoothed her hair back into place where it had come
free from her loose ponytail, and his gaze dropped to her lips. He wanted to
kiss her.

“Hey, you two. The neighbor’s kids are out
playing,” Alan said from where he emerged from the garage. “Let’s keep it
clean.”

His remark reminded her of what she’d wondered when
she had first arrived.

“I’m pretty sure tickling is ‘Rated E for
Everyone,’” Rebecca said, “but speaking of behavior more suited to privacy, I
thought you and Jamie would still be on your honeymoon.”

Alan shrugged a shoulder. “Jamie didn’t want the
hassle of planning a vacation on top of a wedding, so we’re taking a vacation
later in the summer. We were at Disney a few months ago anyway.”

“Oh.” Rebecca didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t
imagine being a newlywed and not wanting to get away with her new husband, but
it sounded like Alan and Jamie had been living like a married couple for a
while and the impetus to go away and get lost in each other in some exotic
locale had waned.

Lucky for her, Chris finished with his motorcycle
and foisted his dirty rags and supplies onto Alan, effectively ending that line
of conversation. She waited while Chris moved the bike into his parents’
garage. Apparently he hadn’t been serious about taking her for a ride, and they
were taking her car to lunch.

Lunch at Neato Burrito was always good—and filling.
Someone had a heavy hand with the cilantro in the salsa, and Rebecca loved it.
Chris polished off his enormous beef burrito as Rebecca wrapped her leftovers.

The restaurant sported a bohemian atmosphere from
the colorful vinyl booth seats to the odd, red lamps that hung over the tables.
A few patrons occupied the counter stools, and a couple placed their order at
the counter. Occasional remarks shouted between the counter help could be heard
over the folk music pumped through the overhead speakers.

Chris rolled up his foil wrapper and used napkin
and set them on his paper plate. He folded his hands on the table in front of
him. “So, do you have any plans for next weekend?”

“I don’t know, do I?” She was flirting. She never
flirted.
What has gotten into me?

“Have you ever been hiking or camping?”

Does crossing the mall parking lot
at Christmas or a backyard sleepover in a play tent count?
  “Just some day
hikes. I’ve always wanted to try camping, but I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“Well, this may be your big chance then.” Chris’s
hands disappeared beneath the table, and he leaned on the padded seat back.
“I’m thinking of going back to Shenandoah National Park if you’d like to come.”

“I would, but . . .” It sounded good, but there
were so many reasons she should say no.

Chris dipped his head and peered up at her, brows
raised. “But what?”

“I don’t know the first thing about camping. I
don’t have any gear. And what are the sleeping arrangements?”

Chris rattled off the answers as if he’d already
thought it all through. “I know enough about camping for the both of us. I have
gear you can use. Separate sleeping bags on opposite sides of the tent. Or I
could see if I can borrow a separate tent from someone.”

Rebecca wanted to say ‘yes.’ She loved the
outdoors, but neither her dad nor her sister cared for it, so aside from her
limited summer camp experience, which included air-conditioned cabins and bunk
beds, she had no chance to indulge her interest. A weekend alone with Chris
tempted her, but even with separate bags or tents, going away with him
overnight might not be a good idea. If her father found out…she didn’t want to
think about it.

“Can I have a day or two to mull it over? I
appreciate the offer; I’m just not sure if…I’m just not sure.”

The light went out of Chris’s eyes, but he sat
forward again and placed his hand over hers where it rested on the table. “Take
a couple days to think.” His thumb stroked hers. “It’s my favorite place in the
world, and I want to take you there.”

How could she say no to that? He wanted her to be a
part of something he loved. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to think it over.

That night, once Abby’s children were in bed,
Rebecca called to ask her opinion.

“Should you go? Heck, yeah. I mean, you’re sure
he’s not a serial killer, chronic nose picker or rapist, right?”

Rebecca giggled. “Yes on all three.”

“Then go. What do you have to lose? A weekend of
what? Listening to me whine about Ian’s explosive diapers or sitting at home
watching bad reality TV and eating ice cream from the carton? Go. Live.”