Once outside, Gussie said, “Oh, that was horrific.” She started laughing so hard she leaned on his arm for support. “Horrific but absolutely hilarious.” She took a deep breath and attempted to control her mirth.
He loved to hear her laugh. Sometimes it sounded like bells, going up an octave then back down. Other times it was a hoot or just a burst of happiness, but she never held back. When Gussie laughed, everyone knew she meant it and joined in.
“Adam, I’m so sorry to bail on dinner, but I’ve never been so mortified and so terrified and so entertained in my entire life.” She pulled in a deep gulp of air and attempted to regain control. “I hardly know how to react except to laugh but I can’t take any more of this. I can’t stay for dinner. It’s too funny and too humiliating, and way too…oh I don’t know. Too everything.” She stopped once they reached her car and beeped the doors open. “They are so very careful about every detail of their scheme and so certain they are right that I couldn’t laugh in their faces, sweet ladies.”
“You might believe they’re sweet but they’re calculating and devious and darned near impossible to ignore.” He grinned to soften his words. “You don’t know that because you don’t have them bustling around, taking charge of your life and conniving every day to get you married.”
“How do you handle it? I couldn’t have kept from laughing if I’d stayed for a minute longer.”
They both turned toward the church when they heard the kitchen door open. Blossom rushed out with a large box. Gussie closed her mouth tightly, biting her bottom lip.
“Some cookies for you,” Blossom said. “In case you get hungry on the way home.”
The Widow stood right next to Gussie’s car with a broad smile on her face while Gussie nodded and struggled not to laugh. She managed a hurried, muffled “Thank you.”
Then Miss Birdie stuck her head out the door and shouted, “How did you get past me, Blossom Brown? You come inside and leave the lovebirds alone.” With a start, Blossom hurried away and into the church.
Gussie whooped and tears flowed down her cheeks. “Don’t they drive you crazy?”
“I’ve learned to laugh inside.” He sighed as he handed Gussie a Kleenex from his pocket. “You met Sam. The Widows are sure it was their matchmaking that got him married. They feel flush with victory and refuse to give up on me, not while they’re on a hot streak. I’m sorry they embarrassed you.”
“They delighted me, too.” With that, Gussie tossed the tote into the car, placed the cookies on the passenger seat, and got behind the wheel.
“Thanks, Adam. This was wonderful. I’ll never forget this afternoon.”
He closed the door as she started the car. With a wave, she drove away.
They’d both survived. They hadn’t had their britches embarrassed off them; only, maybe, their socks. When the car disappeared down the highway, he stood there, uncertain if he should feel victorious because the Widows had failed or defeated because Gussie had fled and left him more befuddled than ever.
With so little display of interest on Gussie’s part—lots of embarrassment, a great deal of laughter, but little attraction—he probably should leave things alone. He’d email her, thank her for coming. He didn’t really need to stop with one email. Friends, they could be friends, and that could develop into something more. If he stopped pursuing her, even in his meandering and obviously ineffective way, nothing would happen between them. Ever.
When he’d been in seminary, his professor of church management told the story about a man watching a kid fish. Before he tossed his line into the water, the boy reached in his mouth, pulled something out, and placed it on the hook. Every time, he’d pull in a large fish and repeat the operation. The man, who’d caught nothing, approached the boy and asked how he’d been so successful. The kid spit a bunch of worms into his hand and said, “You’ve got to keep the worms warm.”
“That’s what church growth is all about,” the professor explained. “Call on your visitors, invite others to come, whatever it takes to keep the worms warm.”
And that pretty much described what Adam planned to do about Gussie. With every email, he could stay in touch while he worked up the courage to be more active and to figure out what to do next. He could never tell her that, of course, because he felt pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a mouthful of worms.
* * *
As hysterical as the afternoon had been, Gussie realized one important fact: The Widows would cause great havoc if they continued to play matchmakers. She had little doubt that they’d keep trying. Adam had said the Widows felt flush with victory. Perhaps that explained it. Their success with Sam and his wife primed them for more efforts toward getting their minister married. After all, they had much more invested in getting Adam married than they had in finding Sam a wife.
Although the afternoon had amused her, she felt mortified that she and Adam had been placed in this situation. If he were at all interested in her, he’d have made a move, called her, asked her out. The fact that he hadn’t but Miss Birdie and her co-conspirators had forced them together embarrassed her deeply. It showed so obviously that the chemistry was one-sided.
Had anyone noticed how much Adam attracted her?
And yet, if not, why had the Widows chosen her for Adam? Had they seen her longing? No, impossible. They’d never seen her and Adam together. They were operating on hope, nothing more. Her usual good humor kicked in and she laughed so hard she nearly drove off the highway.
* * *
That evening as Adam watched Janey do her homework in the kitchen, Hector threw himself onto a chair.
“I don’t have enough money to take anyone to prom.”
Mentally, Adam replaced the word anyone with Bree.
“A girl expects all sorts of stuff like flowers,” Hector complained. “Some of the guys are going together, pooling their money for a limo. With my friends, fifty of us would have to pool our money.”
Guess he’d better start giving Hector an allowance. With basketball and school on top of taking care of Janey and the work he did around the church, which didn’t pay much, Hector didn’t have time to get another job and keep his grades up, too.
“Wish I could help more.”
“Hey Pops, I understand.”
The kid needed some spending money, some—what had his friends called it?—walking-around money. For a few seconds, Adam considered the trust fund money his own father had put aside for him. He’d decided against living on it, but couldn’t he share a little with Hector? No, he couldn’t. It went against Adam’s principles. He didn’t mind tapping a parent for a worthy project here and there, but not that trust fund money. He’d never wanted to be a person who lived on someone else’s wealth. If he started to accept a little here and a couple of hundred there, he might end up buying more stuff, like a new car that didn’t have things falling off it and couldn’t make the trip to Austin without constant prayer and Rex’s laying on of hands. No, he aimed to support himself on his own money.
“Bobby thought he’d get the family car, but his father has to go in for a late shift.”
Bobby’s father worked as an aide at the hospital and always tried to take on extra shifts.
“We thought about walking to the civic center but that’s not cool.” He grinned. “Of course, driving your car to the prom isn’t too cool, either, but if we park it down the street, no one will see it.”
“You going to meet up with anyone there?” Adam asked casually.
“Maybe. I asked Bree to save me a couple of dances.” Hector grinned. “Pops, how’re you going to get to the prom. You’re a chaperone again, right?”
Adam nodded. “The Episcopal priest’s picking me up. Ministers are very popular chaperones. We seem to exude morality and serve as examples of honor and virtue.” And, he added to himself, celibacy.
* * *
Friday before prom, Adam dropped by the diner, sat at the counter, and ordered a cup of coffee. “Prom tomorrow,�
� he said to Miss Birdie.
“None of the girls are in school today,” she said as she filled a cup and placed it in front of him. “The juniors spent the morning decorating the civic center. This afternoon the girls get their hair done.”
“They skip school to get ready for a dance?”
“Preacher, this is the prom we’re talking about.” She leaned forward to scrutinize him as if he were an alien being. “Tradition. Elmer took me. Our first date. It’s a special evening. Missing one day of school won’t hurt.”
Adam nodded. Probably not something a man could understand, especially an outlander like him.
“Bree’s so excited. She got a new dress and sparkly shoes. Problem is, the heels are so tall and thin that she walks like she’s got a basketball between her knees. I’m afraid she’s going to fall on her face. Tonight she’s going to practice dancing and moving in them.” She shook her head and smiled. “She tried everything on yesterday. Looked real pretty when she wasn’t walking.”
“She have a date?”
“No, she’s going with a bunch of friends. They do that.” She picked up a fresh pot of coffee and topped off his cup before she headed toward her other patrons. Going table-to-table, she freshened everyone’s coffee until she arrived at one where Farley Masterson sat. Adam had met the man a few weeks ago when Farley visited the Christian Church. Adam didn’t know why he’d showed up; he usually attended the Methodist Church.
Just as she had when she’d spotted Farley in church, the pillar carefully headed away, pretending not to see the man. If she hadn’t been so obvious, she could have carried it off. But she had and she didn’t.
Farley grinned and shouted, “I’m gettin’ to you, aren’t I, Bird?”
Miss Birdie mumbled something and kept her eyes away from him while she served another table.
Did the pillar have an admirer? Looked to Adam as if Farley fancied Miss Birdie.
Well, don’t that beat all, he thought. He almost patted himself on the back as he noticed how much he’d improved his use of Texas phrases. He understood Texan a lot better, too. Now, if only he could use fixin’ without thinking about it, he’d sound like a true citizen of the Hill Country.
While Adam was congratulating himself, Farley looked up at the ceiling and said, “That fan pulls right smart through here, don’t it?”
Adam had no idea what the man had said. Obviously his vocabulary hadn’t grown as much as he’d hoped.
* * *
Along with most of the ministers in town and dozens of parents, Adam chaperoned the prom. The adults circling the walls, at the refreshments table, and guarding every door made sure that, at least until midnight arrived and the kids adjourned to post-prom activities, no one had the slightest opportunity to misbehave. If they did, punishment would follow immediately, administered by a throng of the righteous.
When he first entered, Adam glanced toward the photographer, hoping to see Gussie. Silly because she’d have let him know if she were coming, but still he hoped. No, a man set up the equipment in front of a large sketch of the Eiffel Tower under an EVENING IN PARIS banner.
The kids were having a great time. Hector and Bree danced in a distant corner, as far away from Adam as they could find. None of the kids knew how to slow-dance. They embraced and moved around the floor like Siamese twins joined at the shoulders. They performed the fast dances with jerky and repetitive movements. He shouldn’t laugh because, all long arms and legs, he bet he’d looked goofier at his prom.
“Hey, you’re looking good.” His friend Mattie, the minister of the Presbyterian Church, stood next to him and put her arm through his.
Had he changed in any way? Yes, he had to admit he had, a little. He’d bought some new shirts at Bealls to replace the old ones that were so tight around the neck. Tonight he’d worn a daring light blue one instead of the usual white. With it, he had on one of the ties Blossom had given him when she cleaned out her husband’s closet, black with light blue swirls. Far more exciting than the three ties he already possessed.
Mattie looked nice in a dressy dress that showed more leg and décolletage than he’d ever seen a minister display. Not that she looked cheap or showed too much, but she didn’t look much like a lady preacher tonight.
He knew well enough not to tell her she looked nice. “Great dress,” he said. “I like your hair.” She’d piled it on top of her head with little curls dangling down. “You look different tonight.” At her frown, he added, “In a good way.”
She studied him for a moment, “You know, you are getting better looking. Not as scrawny as you were when I first met you. Maybe you’ve finally stopped growing and reached the age you can put on a little muscle.”
Had she really said something nice about him, in which case he should thank her? Or had she merely moved him up the scale one step, from scrawny to just plain skinny. That didn’t feel at all like a compliment.
Then she smiled and squeezed his arm. For a moment, he panicked. She’d looked at him as if he were a man instead of the eunuch who served the Christian Church.
Fortunately, one of the junior girls pulled Mattie’s arm. “I need you to help me. My dress ripped a little.”
Mattie hurried off and Adam, perfectly content not to wonder about Mattie’s message, watched the dancers with less of an eagle eye than the pillar expected him to use.
“Hey, Preacher,” Gabe Borden said. He’d been a hotshot guard five or six years earlier at UT, where he’d been nicknamed “Flash.” Adam had heard of Flash and followed his career. After a couple of years in the NBA, Gabe retired. No known injuries, simply stopped playing and went back to school for a master’s degree and worked as an assistant at UT. He’d landed the job of head basketball coach at Butternut Creek High School nearly a year earlier.
“How’re you doing, Coach?”
“Okay. Having fun?” Gabe looked across the crowd of students.
Adam sometimes questioned the evenhandedness of whoever dispensed physical gifts. Gabe had everything. He looked like…well, like a former NBA player. Handsome, confident, and charismatic. From what Adam heard, the man had invested well, had piles of money, and sponsored several charities. However, Adam had two inches on him, which evened things out a bit.
Here in Butternut Creek, Gabe attempted to look like a normal guy but he wasn’t. He could wear jeans from Walmart, cheap T-shirts, and knockoff athletic shoes and still look like an ad for men’s cologne. But Adam couldn’t help but like him. That charisma.
“How did you get dragged in?” Adam asked.
“I’m a junior class sponsor, one of the joys of teaching here. We spent most of the day setting up. Fortunately, I like being around high school kids. I’m not as fond of wrapping flowers around poles or covering the ceiling with dark blue crepe paper.”
“Lovely. Looks just like Paris.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever been to Paris?”
“Yes, but this is still pretty good for a makeover of the community center.” Then Adam tossed out the words, “Coach, do you have a church home?”
Gabe didn’t respond. Instead he seemed busy ignoring a willowy blond chaperone who had her eye on him.
“English teacher, recent divorcée,” Gabe explained. “She’s aggressive, but not quite as pushy as a minister who asks if you have a church home when he’s chaperoning the prom. No, not nearly as pushy, but close.”
After a few seconds of silence during which Adam felt warned not to ask again but pleased that he had made an effort to reach out, the coach said, “I want to talk to you about Hector.” Gabe’s eyes searched the crowd for the young man.
“Is there a problem?” Adam hoped not. Next to Janey, basketball was Hector’s life.
“Not really. I wanted to pick your brain, get your opinion. I’m thinking about changing his position from a three to a two, from small forward to shooting guard or maybe what they call a point forward, a combination.”
“You know I’m not his guardian, right
? That he’s an emancipated minor. He lives with me, but I don’t tell him what to do. Much.”
“I don’t expect you to, but you know something about basketball so I thought I’d talk this over with you.” He paused. “You know, Hector’s too thin and too short to play forward in college. He’s not a wide body, which is what everyone looks for.”
Adam nodded.
“He’s a smart kid and a great shooter, good passer. To play guard, he has to improve his ball-handling skills. With my background, I can work with him, coach him to be a guard.”
Oh, yeah, Flash would be a great teacher for Hector. “Makes sense. You think more schools would be interested in him as a guard?”
“I think he’ll add more to the team and attract more attention as a guard than a forward. What is he? Six-three? Six-four? But he needs to bulk up a lot to play as a wide body.”
“Do you know how much that kid eats? If I didn’t have the same problem putting on weight, I’d wonder where all that food goes.”
“Yeah, he works out in the weight room for hours but can’t build muscle. Too young.”
For a minute or so, the two men watched the young people dance and listened to the music.
“I’d like to have him dribble the ball everywhere he goes to make him more comfortable with it. Are you on board with this?”
“Sure,” Adam started but before he could say more, a student looking very sophisticated in a long red dress took Gabe’s arm and pulled him into the crowd to dance.
Adam laughed at Gabe’s discomfort until another young woman grabbed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
May whirled past. After prom, Adam attended the spring sports award ceremony, the choir concert at the high school and one at Janey’s elementary school, track meets, and everything else that crowded the last days of the school year. In no time, summer church camp loomed ahead. He’d see Gussie for almost a week.
The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek Page 11
