Doug and Carlie's Love Conspiracy (Doug & Carlie Series Book 2)

by Lisa Smartt

  “Well, that’s the thing, Carlie. You think Charles Parker is gonna have to settle for a girl like me? No. He’s not.”

  “Settle? Who even said anything about settling? I’m just talking about a conversation, Clara! You never even made conversation.” My frustration level was growing. “Gosh, you made him think something was wrong with him! And incidentally, there doesn’t seem to be much wrong with him in my book. So no, that wasn’t very smart!”

  Clara’s voice cracked with emotion and she rose from the couch. “See? I told you this wouldn’t work! I tried to tell you that I wasn’t like you, that I couldn’t be friendly and outgoing. Guess what, Carlie? Not everyone can walk into a room and just start making conversation. I’m sorry that I’m not funny or entertaining enough for you or your friends. Oh, and I’m sorry I’ll never write books or be on TV talk shows either. Look, I’m a kindergarten teacher. I live alone. I have a cat. That’s who I am. You and Charles Parker can be disappointed in me all day but it won’t change anything. It won’t change me.”

  She was crying now and I was feeling terrible. Yes, the Titanic crashed into an iceberg tonight and Charles and Clara were both casualties. But we all know who was captaining the ship.

  I stood and embraced her. “Clara, Clara, I’m sorry. Really. It’s all my fault. It’s my fault for inviting him. It’s my fault for trying to make you someone you’re not. Gosh, it’s even my fault if you get food poisoning from questionable boiled custard or mystery Jell-O.” We both laughed. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? Please?”

  “I forgive you, Carlie. I do. Let’s just put it behind us, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  A lot of people would have given up matchmaking right then and there. Yep! A lot of people would have seen the handwriting on the wall. Clara Johnson doesn’t want Carlie Jameson’s matchmaking services. Thankfully, I found the writing completely illegible.

  Chapter 7 CARLIE: Christmas Conniving

  The morning after the Christmas party was much more enjoyable than expected. It’s like all the pressure was off. Off of me, the ship’s captain. And off of Clara too. I made giant cranberry muffins and the whole house smelled like coffee and leftover pigs in blankets. At the breakfast table Clara managed to have a long and detailed conversation with Doug about marketing and international business practices. I made note of the fact that she could actually have a pleasant and meaningful conversation with a man. But it needed to be unscripted. Casual. Spur of the moment.

  Clara loved our country church which wasn’t surprising to Doug or to me. Everyone was especially friendly and Brother Dan’s preaching was always excellent. I scoped the crowd as I had been for several weeks. No available men. None. Well, none under the age of 70. No worries. It’s never over till the fat lady sings “Bohemian Rhapsody” at the top of her lungs.

  The afternoon found us saying our tearful good-byes. I had known Clara for 13 years but for the first time, I felt genuinely close to her. I would miss her and I knew she would miss me too. She had opened up her heart to me. She had told me things that no one else knew. Now I would need to safeguard those revelations and try to help her move forward. But she was a fragile soul and I had to be careful.

  “Clara, come again soon. Tell me you will.”

  “I will. Thanks, Carlie. Really. It may not have turned out the way you planned, but I appreciate your trying. I do.”

  Clara Johnson drove out of our driveway on December 18th in an immaculately clean tan Ford Focus. She thought I was done with matchmaking. But I don’t give up that easily. I spent the next few days Christmas shopping and writing and trying to become a better cook. But always in the back of my mind I was looking for Clara Johnson’s Doug. Early one morning I realized I hadn’t really addressed the painful things she had shared with me during her weekend visit. So I grabbed a cup of coffee, sat in the comfy chair in my office, and wrote a letter.

  Dear Clara,

  Thanks for coming last weekend. We loved having you here. There are a few things I want to tell you that I didn’t get a chance to tell you. So here goes:

  I am very angry at Jason Miller for hurting you. I hold him fully responsible. Clara, even though you say you were a willing participant, you weren’t. He was a 25-year-old man and you were a 15-year-old child. That’s not called sex. It’s called a felony.

  The forces of darkness would like to convince you that what happened all those years ago means that no man will ever want you…or even worse, that the wrong man will want you. I’m sure those forces are working night and day to convince you that you’re worthless, Clara. But it’s not true. And we all know it takes a lot of effort to propagate an effective lie. So stop listening to all that whispering in your ear about your poor self-worth. You’re worth a lot to your family, to me, and to God. So when the lies come, try to remember that and speak the truth to yourself.

  We never even talked about the fact that you gave birth to a baby. A real, live, breathing, beautiful baby boy. I never asked if you met his parents or how you worked the plan. I never asked if you held him or if he had red hair. I’m sure he was beautiful. I guess that means he’s about 15 years old right now, yes? Clara, I know the adoption decision couldn’t have been easy. I want you to know how very much I respect you for it. A wonderful, handsome, smart young man is out there right now with all the opportunities in the world because you loved him. You loved him in spite of his immoral father. You loved him because he was a person, your baby boy. I’m sure he’s having a great life. That life began with a young girl’s courage.

  Doug and I will be going on the book tour a few days after Christmas. I just wanted you to know we’re ready for a return visit anytime in January. Oh, and Doug talked to Charles a few days after the party. Charles said you were a beautiful young woman but he figured something was holding you back from being in a relationship. He didn’t know what it was. Doug didn’t tell him anything. Doug just said that you thought he was a good guy but maybe you weren’t right for each other or maybe the timing was off. Charles agreed. No harm done, Clara. So, it wasn’t a match.

  I’m sure you think I’m done with the matchmaking. Sorry. I’m not. I’ll keep you posted. And by the way, the more you tell yourself the truth, the more likely my matchmaking will someday result in a match. This is a mystery of life. But it’s true. I promise.

  Love and hugs,

  Carlie

  Chapter 8 CARLIE: Southern Book Tour

  Doug had four days off for Christmas. Every morning, he built a fire in the fireplace. I cooked country ham for breakfast. Even though the ham pieces were tougher than a crocodile cowboy boot, we were thankful. I learned a valuable lesson those first six months of marriage. Selfish little annoyances can be lessened through frequent sexual activity. And no, I haven’t written to Dr. Phil to ask if he agrees with me. But I think he should agree and probably does. When Doug and I would have conflict or I would have a hormonal meltdown, physical intimacy seemed to remedy some of that conflict. I need to write a book about this except someone has probably already written a book about it. It would be called, “Don’t Worry about His Dirty Socks on the Floor: How to Forget About Laundry and Get Busy in the Bedroom.” If I tacked on something like “30 days to a great marriage” it would be a best-seller. Americans love stuff that can be fixed in 30 days. I guess we have relationship ADD. This book should be given to every newlywed couple during their pre-marital counseling.

  Doug’s relatives came over for a potluck dinner on the afternoon of Christmas Day. No boiled custard and no Jell-O so we deemed it a great success. My parents, along with my two brothers and their wives, came for a visit the day after Christmas. It was like a big slumber party and I felt blessed to be the host. Well, I wasn’t the only host. My handsome husband, Doug, was also the host. Still seemed unbelievable sometimes, those words…my husband. It’s like I’d spent my whole life believing that tall chubby girls don’t get married. But they do. Hallelujah. They do.

  Doug to
ok a few extra days off to join me on a whirlwind book tour through the South. Nashville, Birmingham, Atlanta, Savannah, Pensacola, and Orlando. I was promoting my most recent book, “A Married Woman’s Guide to Ordinary.” See, when I was 32 and single, I got a book published which was called, “A Single Woman’s Guide to Ordinary.” I guess tons of people liked it and bought it. And because tons of people bought it, I got to go to cool places and meet famous people and do a bunch of stuff I had never done.

  Becoming a published author also ended my ten-year career at the Dollar General Store in Commerce, Georgia. Some people might think I’m embarrassed by those years. But I’m not. I learned a lot about people and about pork n beans. Anyway, so then I married Doug and the publisher knew that I would have to stop writing funny books about being single because…well, I wasn’t single anymore. So they figured everyone who liked my book about being single would like to read about my meeting Doug and getting engaged. That’s the first half of the book. The second half is about getting married and the funny stuff I learned in the process.

  You may think a book tour would be exciting and glamorous. But Doug and I aren’t much into excitement and glamour. We like meeting the people at the book signings and Doug and I like traveling together. But what we really love is a nice quiet evening at our farm house in Sharon accompanied by my mediocre cooking. We could buy another house, a bigger house, quite easily. But we won’t. Why would we buy a different house when we already like the house we have? Plus, our farm house has been in Doug’s family a long time. So it’s one of those deals where we wish the walls could talk. At least I think we do. I don’t know. Talking walls would be weird and scary so maybe that’s not a good idea.

  When we were in Atlanta, my publisher called with big news. Huge news. I mean, this was probably the biggest news since Doug asked me to marry him at the Crowne Plaza while we were eating biscuits and gravy. A big movie studio wants to make a movie based on my first book. It’ll even be called, “A Single Woman’s Guide to Ordinary.” I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a spoof or something like “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” The publishers hired a script writer who developed a main character who’s chubby and single and funny and a lot like me. She’ll even work at the dollar store and everything. So it should be pretty good, if you like dollar store humor. And I do.

  The movie studio representative said they like making movies based on best-selling books because it’s like printing money. No, the movie studio didn’t say that. At least not out loud. They said a lot of mumbo jumbo about my book being a fresh and honest paradigm shift for the modern single woman. But I wasn’t born yesterday. It was all about the dough. Nevertheless, as the author, I get some editorial privileges and for that I’m grateful. We’ll be heading to Hollywood in early March. Great weather. But lousy gravy.

  Chapter 9 CARLIE: Catching Up with Dave and Shannon

  The best part about the book tour was stopping in Chattanooga to visit Doug’s cousin, Shannon, and her husband, Dave. I met Dave and Shannon on the same day I met Doug in person for the first time (all recorded in that “Doug and Carlie” book).

  I mean, Doug and I had been writing and talking on the phone but the first day I met him at the Cracker Barrel in Chattanooga was the same day we went to their house for dinner. They made me feel loved and appreciated at a time when I was very insecure. They made me feel a part of their family even before I was a part of the family. And you don’t ever stop loving people like that.

  I could feel intimidated by Dave and Shannon because they’re real smart and beautiful and everything but I choose not to. He’s the pastor of a growing church. Shannon looks like Jennifer Lopez. Except I think Shannon is probably way cooler than Jennifer Lopez because I doubt Jennifer Lopez changes her own sheets, makes her own lasagna, or makes tall chubby girls feel beautiful. Well, I don’t know. Maybe Jennifer Lopez does do all that. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Anyway, Dave and Shannon are our closest true friends. Ringing the doorbell to their house made both of us giddy.

  Dave opened the door barefoot and wearing a Hawaiian shirt from college. “Doug! Carlie! Come on in. Come in!”

  Doug laughed, “We’re not keeping you from a luau, are we, man?”

  “You’re just jealous because I’m so much cooler than you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve always been jealous of men wearing floral print.”

  They hugged really big. I loved seeing them together. Dave was the brother Doug never had, the brother he so desperately needed. Shannon walked from the kitchen and hugged both of us but something seemed amiss. She was always so cheery and enthusiastic. But not today.

  “Shannon, is everything alright? I mean, Dave said it was fine for us to come for supper tonight. But if you’re not feeling well, hey, that’s no problem. Really.”

  “No, I’m fine. Besides, I’ve already made taco soup. It’s all good.”

  Dave looked down at the carpet. “We’ve just had some disappointment lately. That’s all.”

  Doug sat in a floral wingback chair and leaned forward. “What kind of disappointment? Anything Carlie and I can do to help?”

  Shannon sat in the leather recliner, put her head in her hands, and started weeping.

  I kneeled beside the recliner and grabbed her hand. “Shannon, what’s wrong? You guys can tell us. Did something happen? Something with your job or the church?”

  Dave spoke up. “No, it’s not the church. Everything’s fine there. It’s us. Our family situation hasn’t turned out to be what we’d hoped. We’ve been trying to have a baby for a few years now and…well, it’s just not happening, that’s all. I mean the ‘trying’ part is happening just fine…but the baby…yeah, the baby part doesn’t seem to be working out the way we planned.”

  Doug and I were uncomfortable and sad and unsure of what to say next. I just stared at the coffee table. I noticed that Shannon had all the magazines lined up in the most bizarre and perfect order. She was definitely Doug’s cousin.

  Shannon grabbed a Kleenex from the end table and spoke quietly, “We’re trying not to get depressed about it. But really, after two years, it’s hard not to get down. This time the doctor thought he had us all fixed up. But today we found out it didn’t work. Again.”

  “I’m sorry, Shannon. Really. I had no idea. I mean, Doug and I knew you guys had kind of talked about it, but we didn’t know you were really trying to have a baby. That must be hard. Really hard.”

  Shannon wiped her eyes and patted my hands. “It is hard, but we’ll get through it. Well, hey, let’s change the subject. No use bringing you guys down too. So, how did the tour go? Are the books selling pretty well? I mean, well enough to make the publisher happy?”

  “Yeah, everybody’s happy right now. Good crowds. And some good buzz from the press.”

  Doug smiled really big and said, “Carlie should tell you about her latest project. She’s working on it night and day. I think she’s more enthusiastic about it than about any book she’s ever written. Go ahead, Honey, fill Dave and Shannon in.”

  “Well, if you must know, I’ve decided to become a matchmaker.”

  Dave started laughing. “A matchmaker? Carlie, are you just wanting people to hate you?”

  “Gosh, that’s what Doug said! Look, matchmaking is an art form and I’m determined to learn the art of it. Besides, if I feel blessed by my marriage, why wouldn’t I want to bless other people with the same?”

  “Hey, you’ll get no criticism from me. I counsel people every day who should have been screened through a process before taking the leap. So knock yourself out, Carlie. Really.”

  “Thank you. You remember Clara, don’t you? My roommate from the wedding?”

  Shannon said, “Sure! She’s the redhead. A little shy maybe, but she’s a beautiful girl.”

  “Well, Clara, she’s my first non-paying customer.”

  “So, have you found a match yet?”

  “Uh, not exactly. Close maybe, but no. It may take a while. I mean, th
e Sistine Chapel wasn’t painted in a day, right?”

  I moved toward Doug and he wrapped his arms around me, “That’s right, Honey! You just keep on painting and I’m sure someone decent is going to come to the surface any day now.”

  I was fine with their laughter. They weren’t making fun of me. They loved me dearly. Dave and Shannon had shared the painful news of not having a baby. And we didn’t know what to do or say. So we all found a reason to laugh. I didn’t even bother telling them about the movie deal. It didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

  Chapter 10 CARLIE: New Year, New Bachelor

  Aunt Charlotte was not the best source of advice about recipes or household cleaning tips or proper pet maintenance. But people? Oh, now Aunt Charlotte knew people. So I expressed my matchmaking frustration to her over coffee one cold January morning. We were sitting in her living room which is the living room of mismatched furniture. Two old broken-down recliners in dusty blue and dusty rose. Dusty being the operative word. A lime green couch Uncle Bart had found in a discard pile on the edge of town. Orange and green throw pillows handmade by Mrs. Simpson, an older woman at our church, and proudly displayed by Aunt Charlotte, saying, “You just don’t see that kind of handiwork anymore.” A scratched-up coffee table made of particle board and old yellow lamps shaped like squirrels from Uncle George’s estate sale. No, Aunt Charlotte would never have her own show on HGTV. But decorating help was not what I desperately needed.

  “We mustn’t give up on our matchmaking, Aunt Charlotte. We can’t.”

  “I hear ya, Darlin’, but that Clara, she’s gotta perk up a little. I mean that little ol’ Charles Parker gave it his all and she done nothin’ but throw ‘em overboard and he drowned, Carlie! He drowned right there in your livin’ room with all of us just sittin’ there watchin’. It was a pitiful sight too.”