The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek

by Jane Myers Perrine

  “I’ll join you tonight,” Adam said before anyone else could speak.

  “Terrific. We can get to know each other,” Gussie said. “Who’ll sign up for tomorrow?”

  The schedule of vespers, games, refreshments, and corralling campers attempting to escape the building kept him busy after the meeting. By midnight, the youth were simulating sleep while the adults had dozed off as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

  The time had come to meet Gussie in the dining hall and start on their rounds.

  And it was time for Adam to consider how to behave with Gussie. Oh, he wouldn’t back her against a tree and kiss her passionately until she begged for more. Not that he’d turn that down if the opportunity appeared, but it didn’t seem realistic. Nor would he attempt to gaze longingly into her eyes. In the dark, she wouldn’t notice anyway.

  As he opened the screen door to enter the dining hall, he still had no plan. He saw Gussie at one of the tables waiting for him, her face pensive. She was lovely in repose. Usually, all that joie de vivre lit up her face. The vibrancy was what everyone noticed. Now, in this moment of calm, he realized she radiated beauty as well.

  “Hey,” she greeted him with a smile. “Let’s get going. You’re the muscle and I’m the mouth. If we find anyone, you grab them and I’ll lecture.”

  She handed him a flashlight, and they stepped outside into the glare of the halogen lights that surrounded the dining hall. Moving beyond that, they headed toward the lake.

  “The lake’s man-made, of course,” Gussie said.

  Man-made lakes. Exactly the best choice of subjects for a romantic rendezvous between a man and a woman alone beneath the glow of a full moon and surrounded by the soft darkness and a sweetly scented breeze.

  “Of course?” he asked. Pitiful effort, but that was the best reply he could come up with to begin his wooing.

  “Caddo’s the only natural lake in Texas. The rest are man-made.”

  “Interesting.” He sounded like an idiot. He wished he could come up with a dazzling and witty comment about man-made lakes, but no flirtatious responses leaped to mind. “Where’s Caddo?”

  “Over on the border with Louisiana. Pretty place. You should go there someday.”

  “I should.”

  Those words pretty much stopped the tête-à-tête. As they moved down an uneven path, he thought about reaching out to help Gussie over a log but knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted or expected a gentleman to take care of her and make sure she—a delicate flower—didn’t trip.

  “How are things in Butternut Creek?” she asked after they’d walked nearly the length of a football field—Adam had adjusted to this normal measure of distance in Texas.

  “Are you asking about the state of the church or how Miss Birdie and I get along?”

  She laughed. “Yes, that’s really what I wanted to ask. How are the two of you doing? I’d imagine a young, single minister wasn’t what she had in mind.”

  “You know her well.”

  “Not really. I’ve met her, but my parents have known her forever. She’s a legend in the churches of Central Texas.”

  “She’s working hard to train me. If I’d only do everything she wants exactly as she wants it, she’s sure I’d be much happier and more successful.”

  “Perceptive of you.”

  They arrived at a picnic table halfway around the lake with a clear view of the dorms above the dining hall. A halogen light stood twenty yards away and lent a hazy glow to the area.

  “Why don’t we sit here and keep an eye out?” he asked.

  Silence fell between them again as the two looked across the lake. A comfortable silence. A friendly silence.

  “Why the need for a patrol?” he asked. “Do kids often sneak out of the dorms?”

  “Usually not. These are good kids. They’ll stay up and talk and fool around, but most of the time, the adults keep them in line.” She paused.

  He read into that an unvoiced concern. “But?” he prompted.

  “It doesn’t hurt to have the campers know we’re out here, just in case. We’ve had a few incidents, but only one that amounted to anything, one best forgotten.” Her voice lost the usual animation. “One that really upset me.”

  He couldn’t read her expression because the tree branches trapped and diffused the dim light, but he could read her slumping shoulders.

  Before he could ask another question, Gussie jumped to her feet.

  “Well, enough of that.” Her voice sounded happy, and her stance looked filled with confidence.

  Which was the real Gussie Milton? Oh, he knew people had good moments and bad, but the change in her had come so suddenly that it took him a few more seconds to realize what had happened. That quick flash from a melancholy Gussie to a high-spirited Gussie confused him.

  “Let’s get going.” She headed toward the other end of the lake. “While we’re sitting here, someone could be climbing out a rear window.”

  “Aren’t there enough adults inside to make sure that doesn’t happen?” He took several long steps to catch up with her. “Aren’t adults sleeping by all the doors and windows?”

  “Yes, but after a long drive and a couple of hours rounding up kids, the adults sleep deeply. Kids can crawl over them and right out the windows.”

  “But the dorms are on the second floor.”

  “That makes it more of a challenge.” She laughed. “Besides, there’s a flat roof over the kitchen with a big tree next to it.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had experience.”

  “Hey, kid, I wasn’t always an elderly stick-to-the-rules counselor. That’s why I know how to handle the campers.”

  “Hey, lady,” he said. “You’re not that much older than me.”

  She laughed, a sound that expressed complete lack of agreement.

  * * *

  Saturday, the second day of the retreat, started warm. By one thirty, it had increased to just plain hot. After the morning group meetings, lunch, and the usually ignored hour of rest, Gussie settled on one of the benches surrounding the basketball court where Adam and four players from Butternut Creek battled against a team from Kingsland in a play-off game of the annual challenge. Didn’t seem quite fair because Butternut Creek had three high school starters—Hector, Bobby, and Bree—but Adam seemed to be the force the other teams couldn’t match up against, and Mac held her own.

  As everyone watched, Adam drove and hustled and focused, pointed out the defense, distributed the ball, shouted instructions to the others, and had a great time doing it all. This was an Adam Gussie hadn’t seen before, didn’t realize existed. This was a man who took charge with confidence.

  “Dish the rock,” he shouted at Bobby, who liked to hog the ball. Then Adam said, “Good job,” after Mac successfully battled for a board. A few seconds later, he set a screen for Hector for a shot from downtown.

  Halfway through the game, the players were soaked with sweat.

  Oh, my. Adam not only played ball well, he looked great. Gussie blinked several times but couldn’t ignore him. No longer Pastor Adam, in her mind he’d assumed a completely different identity: Basketball Adam. Sweaty and hunky Basketball Adam. His T-shirt clung to broad shoulders she hadn’t realized he had, and to a nicely muscled body. Skinny but, she hated to admit, very appealing. Since when had she found “sweaty” attractive?

  The realization threw her off balance and made her feel as if a weird and wonderful force had taken over her being and filled her with lustful thoughts and desires she hadn’t experienced for years. Good heavens, Adam is a hottie.

  She felt slightly blasphemous having such thoughts about a minister.

  * * *

  After their second win, Adam passed bottles of water to the other players, then picked up one himself and poured most of it over him before he took a deep drink.

  “Great game, guys,” Adam said.

  “Thanks, Pops!” Hector high-fived him, then Hector and Bobby did a complicated handshake tha
t included fist bumps.

  “Hector, box out better on the rebounds,” Adam coached. “Mac, great hustle.”

  When they’d cooled off, Mac said, “Let’s sit down and study the competition.”

  “Hey, girl,” Bobby answered. “We’re good. We don’t need to watch them.”

  After Hector glared at him, Bobby headed to the side of the court to study the competition.

  “Sometimes he has a problem with attitude,” Hector explained before he joined Bobby.

  “You coming?” Mac said. “Good view of Gussie from where Hector and Bobby are,” she whispered.

  Adam attempted to give her the same glare Hector had used. Didn’t work. She just grinned at him.

  “Mac?” he threatened.

  “Okay, Pops. I’ll shut up.” She joined the others, and he followed.

  Although determined to watch the other two teams fight it out, Adam’s eyes slid toward Gussie, who concentrated on the competition and cheered for both sides. He did have a good view of her.

  “Great play!” Gussie’s shout echoed around the court as she smiled. He really liked Gussie’s smile.

  Adam felt an elbow in his side, then Mac whispered, “If you’re going to fool anyone, you have to stop looking dopey.”

  So he watched the game and forcefully kept his eyes on the players until the team from Llano won.

  * * *

  In the break before the final game, Gussie went back into the cool of the main building to splash water from the drinking fountain on her face. Fortifying herself, she glugged down several gulps of water.

  “You okay, Gussie?” From one of the tables, Jimmy Flock watched her with concern.

  “Fine, just really hot out there.” Water trickled down her chin as she fanned herself.

  “Okay. Be careful.” He dropped his eyes to his book.

  Odd that the minister who always questioned her about her love life hadn’t recognized the fact that lust had just broadsided her.

  She forced herself back outside to watch the final game. She had to face and accept the fact that she’d felt again, that attraction had filled her, had sizzled inside her. It still did. Yearning had escaped from the core of her being, and she could ignore neither her attraction to Adam nor the despair it caused. She preferred to think of all men as being gender-neutral but couldn’t manage to believe that about Adam anymore.

  For a moment, she longed to go back in time thirteen or fourteen or twenty years, to be the young Gussie Milton who’d believed in love and goodness, who trusted others. But that person had died nearly half a lifetime ago.

  She watched the game, her gaze following Adam all around the court.

  “Go, teams,” she cheered as the team from Llano was able to get the ball over midcourt for the first time in a couple of plays.

  How old was he? Twenty-five, she guessed. Twenty-six? Had that been on the application and the background check they’d had to run? Probably. Six years younger. The age difference made her feel like a dirty old lady, sitting here, ogling him.

  After the game, she’d put all thoughts of his manly features back in the lockbox in her brain that she bolted securely. For now, she’d allow herself to watch and enjoy. She stood and clapped after Bobby made a spectacular jumping, twisting dunk and joined in the cheers when Adam stole the inbounds pass.

  “Cut,” Adam yelled, and Bree worked her way under the basket for an easy layup.

  “Pops,” Hector shouted after he’d stolen the ball. With a perfect bounce pass, he fed Adam, who made a long shot.

  Then Bobby dribbled inside for a dunk and Mac made a pair of free throws. The game was over, and Butternut Creek had won. Gussie stood and clapped. “Great game,” she shouted.

  Then she very firmly locked up her feelings again.

  * * *

  “Time for vespers, guys.” Adam tossed the last of the crumpled-up napkins in the recycle bin.

  “You religious people sure spend a lot of time praying,” Bobby said. “Not that I mind ’cause I know this is a church thing, but wouldn’t one prayer a day pretty much say what you need to? Why not make it a little longer so you get everything in? Or maybe bless all the meals at the same time.”

  “Yeah,” Hector agreed. “I mean you say them at every meal and in the morning and a couple of times at night. I bet you people pray before you take a shower.”

  “Or play basketball,” Bobby added.

  “No, never before a game of basketball.” Adam turned toward the guys. “I don’t pray then because I want the other team to pray while we run all over them.”

  “Pops, that was weak.” Hector finished wiping the tables. When he tossed the dishcloth toward the dish basin with sudsy water, Adam swatted toward it and missed. “See, you can’t even block my shots.”

  * * *

  Adam watched Gussie during the group skits later after vespers. What in the world had happened? Her smiles and laughter seemed forced and artificial. When his group had parodied a gospel group singing rap, she looked distracted while everyone else laughed.

  After they’d finished the skits, he caught up to her as she stopped to check her message box. “Hey,” Adam said. “This is a great retreat. Thanks for all the work you do.”

  She glanced at one of the notes in her hand before she looked up at him. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

  “Something like this can change lives. I hope it has for Hector.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I first considered going into the ministry at summer church camp,” he said at the same time Gussie scanned another message. “Anyway, you look busy. Thanks again and good night.”

  She nodded. “Night.”

  * * *

  Gussie could kick herself. It wasn’t Adam’s fault that his presence scared and befuddled her, but she couldn’t allow him or anyone else to see how much he attracted her. For heaven’s sake, she was Gussie Milton, old maid, and she had a yearning for this…this kid. Not that she planned to jump his bones—where had that phrase come from?—although the idea didn’t horrify her as much as she’d thought it might.

  But the attraction didn’t mean she should behave rudely, even if she had no idea how to act. She called after him, “Loved your group’s skit.”

  He turned, waved, and walked away.

  * * *

  After the closing prayer Sunday morning, Adam picked up his bag to stow it in the van. As he turned back toward the dispersing youth, he noticed that Hector had picked up Bree’s duffel bag.

  Well, well, well. A romance? Not that he’d kid either Hector or Bree. He figured Bobby and Mac would take care of embarrassing them.

  Once everyone had settled in, he checked on the seating. Bree and Hector shared the back bench. Bobby and Mac took the chairs, and Adam drove alone. Just as well. The kids would fall asleep anyway and be useless in keeping him awake.

  As he started the van he glanced at the crowd, searching for Gussie. Stupid because she had no interest in him, but he kept looking. Finally, as he drove out of the campground, he saw her in the rearview mirror watching their vehicle pull out.

  * * *

  At eight forty-five Monday morning, Adam heard the door into the reception area from the parking lot open and knew trouble had arrived. Couldn’t be Maggie. She didn’t show up until later. He guessed it was at least one Widow, maybe more. Right now, he didn’t feel like facing any of them. Could he sneak out a window?

  Stupid response. He couldn’t hide from the Widows. He’d known they’d descend on him as soon as the pillar had debriefed her granddaughters and they could gather. Oh, maybe he could dodge them for an hour or two, even a day, but they’d catch up to him eventually, hunting him down like a pack of Miss Marples.

  At least he’d arrived early to prepare himself. In front of him, he had a cup of coffee and a Bible. He’d spent a few minutes in meditation, but they hadn’t given him enough time. He wished he had another thirty minutes to brace himself, but he didn’t. He folded his hands and awaited the inevita
ble.

  “Pastor, are you here?” Mercedes called.

  Before she’d finished the sentence, the pillar stomped into his study, folded her arms, and stared at him while she stood at the door like a rock in the middle of a creek. The three other Widows—Blossom had joined them—flowed around her and headed toward the chairs in front of the desk.

  He stood and reached toward Blossom. “Welcome. Good to see you.”

  She smiled as she shook his hand. Then all the Widows, including the newest, sat.

  Except for Miss Birdie. When she finally strode toward the desk, she stood behind the chair Blossom had snatched and glared. “We came to discuss the retreat,” Winnie said.

  Before he could say anything, Blossom looked over her shoulder at Miss Birdie. She must have felt the intensity of her expression. “Why aren’t you sitting down?” she whispered.

  “Because you are sitting in my chair,” Miss Birdie whispered back. The pillar had the loudest whisper of anyone Adam had ever heard. When she whispered, people obeyed.

  Including Blossom. She leaped to her feet, scuttled to another chair, and sat down. With a smile, Miss Birdie lowered herself into her place.

  “You’ll notice, Preacher, Blossom has joined us this morning.” Miss Birdie’s voice underlined the temporary nature of Blossom as a Widow—it was the pillar, after all, who had the final say.

  “Good to see all of you,” Adam said.

  “We came to discuss the retreat,” Winnie repeated.

  “Went very well. I believe the young people had a great time.” He smiled at Miss Birdie. “What did Bree and Mac tell you?”

  The pillar leaned forward. “They told me nothing happened between you and Gussie.” She sat back and shook her head in disgust.

  “Oh, dear,” Blossom said. “Is that good or bad?”

  Birdie ignored her and plowed ahead. “That’s what my granddaughters say. Nothing happened.”