by Emma Woods
Going on a walk through falling snow with a handsome man who thought I was beautiful? Yes, please, I thought. Instead, I just nodded and followed him outside.
To my great delight, he held out one of his big hands, and I slipped my gloved one into it. We strolled along slowly and Matt regaled me with stories of his youth in Birch Springs. He had me laughing in no time, and I thought that I wouldn’t mind if we never stopped walking.
It was growing late when I finally got up the nerve to inquire, “Okay, what’s with the tattoos?”
His arms were, of course, covered by layers of shirt and coat, but he looked down anyway.
“It started with one right here,” Matt pointed to his heart. “When I was eighteen, I got a cross and the reference for my favorite verse tattooed on my chest over my heart. Then I got a good idea for another one, and then another one. After a couple of years, I had two full sleeves and a lot of my chest and back covered.”
“What does your mother think of them?” I couldn’t help wondering.
He shrugged. “She’s stopped commenting on them. Luke gives me a hard time about them sometimes, but Rosemarie says she likes them. I guess I don’t usually care too much what people think. I like them, and they have a lot of meaning to me.”
We drew to a stop near the park. I noticed that we were under a streetlight, which lit Matt with a warm halo. Snowflakes swirled around us. I caught my breath at how deliciously romantic this moment was.
It only got better when he put a hand under my chin, drew my eyes to his, and asked, “Do my tattoos bother you, Corinne?”
I searched his eyes and saw, with surprise, that he genuinely cared about my opinion. After what he’d just said, my heart began thudding with the weight of the question.
“They’re growing on me,” I said with a smile.
Matt leaned his head down and planted the sweetest kiss on my lips that ever could have existed. He pulled back and said, “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”
I couldn’t have spoken if I wanted to. That had been the first time a man had ever kissed me. And that man was Matt Donovan, the kindest, best man I’d ever met. For one moment, all my fears were silenced.
We walked back to the car, not talking much, just enjoying holding hands and being together. Even on the car ride home, I felt like I was drifting along in a magical, romantic bubble.
It wasn’t until after we’d said good-bye and I was in bed alone that the bubble popped. It had been a nice evening, but the truth was, I would always have Gus with me. Matt might be willing to put up with an overweight wife, but I doubted that even he would be thrilled to have her special-needs brother live with him for the rest of his life.
14
I should have been thrilled with the success of my date. A great guy was interested in me! Why wasn’t my heart all aflutter? A nagging voice kept whispering doubts, and it didn’t take long for me to absorb them. What if Matt changed his mind about the way I looked? What about Gus? What about my impossible family?
It all came down to the fact that I was too much work. Taking me on would be too heavy a load for any man. I came with so much baggage. Matt might be okay for a while. Eventually, though, he’d buckle and leave.
And what should I do about it? Tell him I didn’t want to see him anymore? The trouble was, I was dying to see him again. I’d only ever dreamed of someone saying such romantic things to me. I remembered my prom date, who had been two inches shorter than me and had been too nervous to ask me to dance. I recalled Pete Garret in college, who’d taken me out a few times and had seemed really interested. That is, until I took him home and he met Gus and my mother. Matt Donovan was a dream come true.
I was so confused by the time I picked up Gus on Tuesday afternoon that I could hardly meet Matt’s eyes over the counter. Did I encourage him, knowing he’d eventually dump me and break my heart? Should I break things off now and risk missing out on some really wonderful experiences, even if they were short-lived?
Matt sized me up and then said, “Hey, Cory, can you handle the counter for a few minutes? I need to talk with Corinne.”
“Sure,” the high-school boy replied nonchalantly.
Matt gestured for me to follow him with one finger. I bit my lower lip and then trudged after him, stomach in knots. He led me to his office and closed the door behind us. In the small space, he seemed to fill the room with his intensity.
“What’s going on?” he inquired carefully and perched on the edge of his desk.
He looked really wonderful today. He had on a red flannel shirt over his Beanery t-shirt, and he’d rolled the sleeves up. Even his worn jeans seemed as though they’d been created to bring out all his best features.
I was blushing before I even began to speak. Goodness, what a mess I was!
But Matt seemed to sense my inner struggle. He reached out a hand and took mine gently.
“I had a great time last night. You’ve been on my mind all day.” He smiled sweetly.
My stomach twisted and I looked down at my shoes.
Matt wiggled my hand. “Hey. It’s okay. Whatever’s going on, you can tell me.”
Why did he have to be so kind and sensitive? Tears were in my eyes when I looked up at him. But this time, he didn’t rescue me. He just waited.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed. “I had a really nice time last night, too. It’s just…” I trailed off and shrugged.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Matt said when I didn’t continue for a few moments. “Unless we decide that we don’t have a future, I’m going to be here. Even when things get hard.”
Of course he’d say that. It was easy to make promises. It was far more difficult to keep them when life got in the way.
“You’re too wonderful,” I finally blurted out. “You’re kind and understanding. You’re telling me all the right things. But what happens when you realize that I’m never going to measure up? I’m not kind and understanding like you are. I don’t want to spend my life being someone’s lesser half. I don’t want to be a charity case.”
Matt’s eyebrows lifted. He hadn’t expected that. For that matter, neither had I. I bit my lip and reviewed what I’d just said. Had I really meant it? Brow furrowed, I decided that I had. Matt was such a great guy, and I wasn’t on the same level.
“You don’t know me very well,” he said slowly. “I work really hard to be a godly man. It doesn’t come easy, though. I have a lot of faults.”
I snorted. “Sure you do. What, are you messy? You say bad words sometimes?” I was mocking him and I hated the tone of my voice, but couldn’t seem to stop.
He shook his head solemnly. “I was thinking I’d save this until later. But, again, I guess now is the right time. Listen, Corinne, I’ve done some really stupid things. When I was in high school, I went through a rebellious stage. I got on the high school football team and was being scouted by colleges. Everyone treated me like I was a big shot, and I started believing it. I went out partying at all hours, sneaking out of the house and doing all sorts of stupid stuff.
“When I was a senior, my girlfriend at the time told me she was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. It changed everything for me.” There was such pain and regret on his face that my heart went out to him. Matt sighed and said, “By the time I told Marcy that I’d drop out of school to help her take care of the baby, it was too late. She’d had an abortion without even telling me.”
It was my turn to squeeze his hand, hoping it gave him some comfort. Matt would make a marvelous father. He would have loved that baby and raised it so well. What a devastating blow it must have been to learn that his girlfriend had ended that baby’s life.
Matt sighed heavily and scratched his forehead. “I went right to my church’s youth pastor and poured out the whole story. He started meeting with me, and I turned my life around. It took a long time for me to begin to forgive Marcy, and even longer to begin to forgive myself for not being ther
e for her sooner. If I hadn’t gone off on my own to figure things out and seen the toll it took on her, things might have turned out differently. I was totally selfish. I still struggle with ‘what if.’”
I watched him carefully. He’d shared such a painful thing with me, and I was filled with relief. Was that terrible of me? Matt was just a normal guy after all. He made mistakes. He wasn’t on some pedestal out of my reach.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said into the tense silence. “I’m sorry you went through such a difficult time.”
“Life is messy, Corinne. I’ve spent the past eight years chasing after God as hard as I could. I haven’t even been interested in any other women. I know that I can get it wrong, and I’ve been learning to trust God’s direction. That’s why I’m so sure about you. It was like something inside me recognized you the first time I met you.”
Since he was being so honest, I steeled myself and replied, “You might feel sure about me, but I’m not. It scares me a bit to have you say those things to me. It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but it’s all happening so fast. I need to be sure that you’re the one God has for me. Right now, I’m not.”
Matt’s beard split and his teeth flashed as he grinned. “So, we need to slow things down.”
“Yes, that would help. I feel dishonest accepting your romantic words, and even your kiss, when I don’t know that it’s going to work out between us. Does that even make sense?”
“It does. But even if it didn’t, I respect your feelings. We need to move along at the right pace. I want us both to be ready before we take any steps. For now, can I see you again?”
I paused, taking inventory. I really wanted to date Matt again. This time, though, I found that I wanted to date him because I liked being with him and I wanted to get to know him better. That seemed like the right reason to me.
“Yeah, you can.” I found myself grinning back at him.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked quickly.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was free when I remembered that Thursday was Thanksgiving. Reality hit and I groaned. “I can’t see you this week. Rosa’s hosting Thanksgiving for our entire family and I’m helping. My parents are coming to town, and I have a thousand things to do. I’m afraid I’ll be a real monster until the last person leaves, and then I’ll probably crash and sleep for a month.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Corinne? Are you in there?” Gus called.
I turned and opened the door. “Sorry, Gus. I was talking with Matt about Thanksgiving.”
My brother’s face lit up. “Do you want to come to Rosa’s house for Thanksgiving with us?”
“Gus,” I admonished, “Matt has his own family dinner that day.”
“I’d like to come,” Matt broke in. “If you don’t think Rosa would mind, that is.”
“She always says, ‘The more the merrier,’” Gus quoted happily. “You can meet Mom and Dad! And our brothers and their families, too.”
It was as if all the earlier happiness had been sucked from the room. “What do you mean? Are Charlie and Quinn coming?”
“Yup. Mom called and told me.”
Hosting my parents was one thing. Mixing them with various aunts, uncles, and cousins was another. Bringing in my brothers and their wives and children was quite possibly the worst situation imaginable. And now Matt was thinking of coming, too.
I grimaced at Matt. “You really don’t have to come. Our family can be… a lot.”
An unreadable glint lit his eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it. When should I get there? Can I bring anything?”
“We always eat at four o’clock,” Gus informed him happily. “And Rosa and Corinne are doing all the food. You don’t have to bring anything!”
Earplugs. A fast getaway car. A gag for my mother. All of these items would probably be helpful, I thought sourly.
“We should get going,” I told my brother and began to shoo him toward the door.
Matt grabbed my elbow gently. I turned to him, and he said, “If there’s anything I can do, just call. I mean it.”
I nodded with a halfhearted attempt at a smile and followed Gus down the hall.
He chattered merrily all the way home. It had been a great work day for Gus and he told me all about it. I tried to listen, but thoughts of doom kept pulling my attention away.
And, as though I’d known it was going to happen, Mom called not ten minutes after we arrived home with a new list of demands.
“I was just reading about dust mites,” she began. “Do you think the bed and breakfast uses mattress pads to reduce dust mites?”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose tiredly. Never had I been more tempted to run and hide than right now. I made some noncommittal reply which satisfied my mother.
“Did I tell you that the whole family is coming on Thursday? Every last one will be there. Of course, when I suggested that we host, no one could make the trip. Rosa’s always been the favorite. I think they baby her a bit. Why else would her grandfather leave her his entire house and all that money? Your father never really got over the injustice of that.”
But I’d tuned her out. The whole family was coming? That meant my smug cousins with their perfectly matched children would be there. Julia, who was two years younger, had just gotten engaged and would be brimming with wedding plans. My nosy aunts would be dying to point out my perpetual singleness. And now Matt was coming. I dreaded the comments they’d have about his beard and tattoos. If I married him one day, I’d never hear the end of it. And if I didn’t marry him, they’d remind me of him every Thanksgiving for the rest of my life.
Was it too late to go to Hawaii until it was all over?
15
I’d taken the rest of the week off work. Rosa, as always, had things well in hand at Bumblebee House, but I knew I’d need a day to prepare myself mentally, let alone all the other things I wanted to do. My parents would ask to see our house, and so it had to be spotlessly clean. If Mom noticed even one small thing that didn’t meet her standards, I’d hear about it for years to come.
Wednesday morning, Emily graciously took Gus into work so I could stay home and focus. I hiked up the driveway to Bumblebee House for breakfast with Rosa. We’d planned to sit down and make sure we’d divvied up all the remaining tasks. It was cold and I wrapped my arms around myself, glad for my warm wool coat and fuzzy boots. Everything was crisp and bright in the early-morning light. Here was one last moment of quiet and peace until after my family left on Saturday.
“Morning!” called Rosa when she heard the front door open.
I took off my coat and boots and padded to the kitchen in my stocking feet. In my hand, I clutched a notebook and pen. If I didn’t take careful notes, I was sure to miss something important.
Rosa looked fabulous. Even her “around the house” clothes were great. She had on a sweatshirt into which she’d sewn extra inserts made of old t-shirts. It was now a tunic-length swing top with all the informality of a regular old sweatshirt. Under that, she sported loose boyfriend-type jeans with paint splatters and a few small rips. Though her hair was up in a ponytail, she’d tied a handkerchief around her head, which gave her a cute vintage flair. She wasn’t sporting her trademark red lipstick; a sign that she was going to be working hard today.
“Looks like you’re ready to get some serious cooking done,” I noted, eying the groceries piled up on the counter.
My aunt looked them over, too, spatula in hand. “What is it about a full pantry that makes you feel rich? I can never go grocery shopping without being thankful that God has provided me with the money for food. The kettle just boiled if you want a cup of tea.”
We chatted conversationally as she finished our omelets. I prepared my English breakfast tea and set places for us at the high counter. Never once did Rosa complain or criticize. She didn’t push me for details of my date with Matt. Even the prospect of our difficult family’s impending arrival didn’t faze her. I sipped a
t my cup and sighed, wishing I was more like Rosa.
She slid an aromatic plate in front of me and climbed up onto the stool next to mine. We joined hands and blessed the food, asking for extra help with our Thanksgiving plans, then got to work.
“Are you sure you can handle the pies?” she asked. “All that dough to roll.”
I shrugged. “I love to bake. I just don’t need to have it around the house to tempt me. Besides, pies are easier to transport back up here. We can warm them in the oven if necessary. Some of the other dishes won’t be nearly as good reheated.”
“That’s true. Well, if you’re sure. I’ll drive you home and help you get all the pie stuff to Gate House after breakfast.”
I considered the enormous container of Crisco and the ten-pound bag of flour and agreed that her plan was wise. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Rosa reached for a pad of paper on which she’d scribbled notes, and we began to go over it, item by item. I took my own notes and felt the weight of what we were about to attempt grow heavier and heavier as we talked.
“Mae, Jill, and Danielle will be gone all weekend. Mae left last night. Jill went this morning and Danielle plans to head out after lunch,” Rosa explained. “Rosemarie will be in and out, but she’s going to be with her family and Ty for most of Thursday and Friday. I’ve hired a woman to come up and help me clean the house later today. She’s a single mother and sounded like she needed the extra work.”
I gave my aunt a small smile. Leave it to Rosa to think of others. “That’ll be nice for you to have some help. Luckily, Gate House is small, and it shouldn’t take me too long to get it up to Mom’s standards.”
Rosa put her hand on my knee. Without scolding, she said, “You don’t have to be a slave to her demands.”
I didn’t answer. Maybe I wasn’t a slave to my mother’s demands, but I was certainly loath to ignore them. Nothing was worse than having to listen to her go on and on about my shortcomings for the next several months. The last time she’d visited my apartment, she’d noticed that the screen door was torn. She’d asked me in every subsequent phone call if I’d taken care of it. It didn’t matter that it was winter and we didn’t use the screen door much. And even after I’d reported it and it had been fixed, Mom reminded me of it repeatedly, crowing, “Aren’t you glad you got that taken care of?”
