by Erynn Mangum
A hundred and twelve mating butterflies land with a whoosh in my stomach.
I remember something Layla said when I asked her if she knew Peter was going to propose, and she said that she knew because he started using the word hypothetically a lot.
“He’d be all, ‘so, hypothetically, when during the year would your perfect wedding be?’ Or, ‘hypothetically, where would you want to live in ten years?’”
The butterflies multiply and divide in my stomach.
Tyler pulls up to Starbucks a few minutes later and rolls down his window. “Okay,” he says to the speaker. “I need a grande caramel macchiato and a venti Americano with three extra shots please.”
I look at him wide-eyed as he drives forward to the window to pay. “You will never sleep again.”
“Right now, that’s looking like a life-saving thing. Hi there,” he says to the girl at the window. She tells him the total. He waves off the five dollar bill I’m handing him and pays for it. We are headed toward I-35 a few minutes later, the smell of coffee taking over the car.
“Mm,” I mutter, squishing back into my seat, cupping my hands around the paper-shrouded macchiato, totally content. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So. Excited for today?” Tyler merges onto the interstate. We officially have a little over three hours to kill now.
Sometimes this drive seems awfully long for such a short amount of time.
“Yes. I’m curious about the shower, though. Apparently it’s going to be a lot of people from their church and some of my mom and dad’s friends. So I don’t know that I will know that many people.”
“But you’re good with new people, so it will be fine.” Tyler sips his coffee, his left hand on the wheel.
“Not really.”
“Sure you are. I’ve seen you with the new kids at youth events. You’re always super sweet and outgoing.”
“That’s because I force myself to be like that. It’s not a natural thing,” I tell him.
“So what is a natural thing for you?”
“Sitting in my apartment with my sewing machine watching HGTV, probably,” I say after thinking about it for a few minutes.
He laughs. “You’re a good faker then.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“So, tell me about Wes.”
I think about Preslee’s perfect fiancé and the three times I’ve actually been around him. “I don’t know him very well. He’s tall.”
“Tall. That’s all you can tell me about him?”
“I mean, he seems nice. He’s a pastor’s kid. I think he has a couple of siblings, and he’s the first one out of his family to get married. His mom is apparently really broken up over it.” Preslee had complained about her future mother-in-law for almost thirty minutes one day before suddenly realizing that someday she would have that woman’s grandbabies, and she would never want them to leave her either.
Now Preslee has all kinds of compassion for Wes’s mom.
Tyler nods. “I’ve heard that can happen.”
“Was your mom upset when Stef got married?”
He shrugs. “You forget that we aren’t really close with my mom. I mean, both of us left for college and never really looked back. But we didn’t have much to look back to. We spent the majority of our childhood shuttling back and forth from Mom’s to Dad’s. So, no, I wouldn’t say that Mom was upset. Dad was ticked off, but that was more because Stef wanted to get married rather than just live with Mason, which my dad saw as just an excuse for an expensive wedding.”
I look out the window and then over at Tyler. “I’m sorry.”
He smiles at me. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t have anything to do with it. And honestly, I’m not sorry either, because if it hadn’t happened like that, I never would have picked a faraway college, I never would have met my roommate, and he couldn’t have dragged me to hear that preacher talk, so then I would have never become a Christian, and you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“That was quite the run-on sentence. You sound like Layla.” Layla is notorious for telling an entire story without pausing for one breath.
“Now there’s a scary thought.” Tyler grins over at me.
We talk about everything and nothing for the next hour and a half. Waco is just a few minutes down the road, and I wonder if Preslee has left for Mom and Dad’s yet. Because I need to use the bathroom, and I’m fairly sure hers will be cleaner than whatever gas station or fast-food restaurant we find along the road.
I pull out my phone and it rings three times before she finally answers.
“Hey.”
“Hi. Are you still home?” I ask.
“Nope. Halfway to Mom’s. Why? Did I forget something?”
“No, I just wanted to use your bathroom.”
She laughs. “Okay, well, go use it.”
“I’m not going to go use your bathroom when you aren’t even there!”
“Why not?”
I shrug even though I’m on the phone. “Well, I mean, what if something happens?”
“Like what? Just aim well.”
I snort.
“Seriously, if you want to, go for it. There’s a key on top of the porch light.”
“Isn’t that the first place robbers look?”
“I thought it was under the mat.”
“I don’t know, Preslee. I didn’t actually watch that entire show.”
“What show?”
“The one about inside a burglar’s mind or something like that.”
“I didn’t know there even was a show like that. Well, regardless. If someone broke in, I’m fairly certain they would be terribly disappointed. The only thing of value I keep in that apartment is an old necklace of Gran’s, and I’m pretty sure it’s actually just costume jewelry.”
Tyler points to a McDonald’s up ahead and I nod. “That’s okay, Preslee. Thanks though.”
“Suit yourself. See you guys in about ninety minutes.”
Tyler parks in front of McDonald’s, and we both use the restroom. I walk out and find him looking at the menu. “Is eight thirty in the morning too early for a milkshake?”
“You seriously are like just begging for a heart attack someday, aren’t you?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Mom’s making brunch, don’t forget. And my mother knows her brunch.”
He nods. “Say no more. Let’s go get on the road again.”
This is always the longest part of the trip once you pass Waco. When I would drive home all through college, I would always stop at a Dairy Queen or somewhere and get a Blizzard for the remainder of the drive both going and coming back.
Tyler turns the radio to country and Keith Urban starts serenading us quietly in the background.
“So I don’t ask you this enough, but how’s the new job going?” Tyler reaches for my hand now that his coffee is gone and his hand is free.
“Good. I’m really liking it. I love meeting with the girls and I’m really learning a lot.” Mostly about myself, but I leave that part off.
Tyler tends to be a little nosy about what God has been teaching me lately. And when what He’s been teaching me has a lot to do with forgiving Tyler for his past before he came to Christ, it’s probably best to keep that between the Lord and me right now.
“I really like this new curriculum Rick’s written for the youth group nights,” Tyler says. “I don’t think I’ve ever done an in-depth study on the fruit of the Spirit before.”
“I haven’t either.”
This week we will be on patience. Which I thought was very funny considering Tyler’s apparently difficult mother is coming in town tonight.
Sometimes God’s timing is just weird.
“So, hypothetically, where do you see yourself in five years or so?” Tyler asks.
I just look at his profile. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses and the morning sun is glinting off his blond hair. He looks like he could pick up a guitar and start ser
enading me about something flowery.
“What?” he asks after a minute of me just staring at him.
“Oh!” I jump. “Oh nothing.”
“Is that a weird question?”
“No, it’s just—” I stop just short of telling him that Peter used to ask Layla that right before he proposed.
So maybe Layla was wrong. It’s not like she’s always right. She’s often right but she’s not always right.
And even if it did mean Tyler was considering proposing, was that such a bad thing?
Oh my goodness, my stomach feels like Jell-O that hasn’t fully set.
“Um, I uh,” I stutter.
He grins over at me. “So here’s what I was thinking. In five years, I would like to be married. I’d like to be thinking about kids or already have them. And I’d like to have finally gotten a promotion so I don’t have to work such ridiculous hours.” He quirks a cute little sideways grin at me. “Hypothetically, of course.”
Dear Lord, he said the married word.
I look at our hands woven together on the seat between us, at his curly blond hair and sweet smile as he watches the road, and suddenly the Jell-O in my stomach is set and I could actually envision it.
“I think . . . I think that sounds good,” I say in a soft voice.
He grins.
We pull up to my parents’ house almost exactly ninety minutes later. Wes’s tiny little blue car is parked in their huge driveway, and Tyler pulls up next to it and picks up the flowers while I gather my purse and the present for Preslee and Wes.
Mom is already standing on the porch waving at us. “Oh hi! Hi!” She runs over to give me a hug.
I hug my mom and I’m suddenly just very happy.
I love my mom. I don’t get to see her enough.
She goes to hug Tyler and I just smile at her. Preslee got her cuteness from my mom. Mom isn’t short but she isn’t tall either. She’s petite in her weight and has shoulder-length brown hair. She’s wearing boots and a skirt and looks adorable.
Preslee is right behind Mom and gives me a big hug, frowning at the bag. “I told you not to get me anything!”
“Right,” I roll my eyes. “Like that was going to happen. I would have been kicked out of the maid-of-honor club.”
“Not necessarily.” She grins at Tyler. “Hey there, Tyler. Good to see you again.”
Tyler gives my sister a hug. Dad and Wes are in the kitchen, and we all go in there where it smells heavenly.
“Dad, Wes, this is Tyler. Tyler, this is my dad and Preslee’s fiancé.”
They all shake hands. Mom is going on and on about the flowers Tyler brought her and Tyler smiles easily. “Thank you for having me today, Mrs. Alder.”
“Oh, my goodness, do not call me Mrs. Alder! It’s Gina. Please.”
“Okay. Thanks, Gina.”
“So, Tyler,” Dad starts in his fatherly voice.
“Hold that thought, honey, let’s pray. The food is going to be too done and we’re going to be late for the shower. There will be plenty of time to grill the poor boy while we’re eating.” Mom slips an arm around Dad’s waist.
I grin.
Dad prays for the brunch, and then Mom starts emptying enough food to feed a small continent out of the ovens and the refrigerator. She’s got a ham, homemade cinnamon rolls, sausages, bacon, hash browns, croissants, a fruit salad, and some bagels with cream cheese, and a bunch of different jellies.
It’s like she thinks we’ve suddenly all morphed into the University of Texas football team or something.
“Dig in!” She sets the last of the six jelly jars down. “Plates are on the table.”
“Good grief, Mom, did you think we haven’t eaten all year?” Preslee asks, reaching for her plate.
“I know you guys don’t eat as well now as you did. Let me spoil you.”
Well, she has that right. I think about my dinners this week. There was a lot of popcorn and spoonfuls of peanut butter.
I would not recommend spoonfuls of peanut butter for dinner. Brushing my teeth later was disgusting.
We all pile our plates and sit at the table. Mom and Dad take the ends, Tyler and I have one side, and Preslee and Wes have the other.
“So Tyler,” Dad starts again, as soon as he sits down. “Tell us about yourself.”
Tyler smiles and I realize that he is very easy around other people. Even my dad, apparently, which can sometimes be an issue.
Dad has never been the nicest to my boyfriends. Not that there have been very many of them, but I’m remembering one time specifically where he definitely made the poor guy who was supposed to take me to my prom cry.
I ended up going to the prom with some friends from church because the guy never showed up.
When I complained, Dad told me that any guy worth my time should be able to talk to my father, or it was going to be the worst Christmases ever for the rest of my life.
I guess he had a fair point.
“I’m a software engineer,” Tyler tells Dad. “So right now our company is expanding like crazy and signing a bunch of contracts with some huge businesses in Dallas, which just means I have to work a lot of late nights and weekends, but they do compensate well for the extra time. I go to the same church as Paige and I teach the freshmen boys every Wednesday night.”
Dad is nodding, so I’m assuming Tyler is passing so far.
I bite into a forkful of fluffy, icing-covered cinnamon roll and everything is very right with the world.
Preslee is waving a fork. “So, Paige, remind me at the shower to introduce you to this friend of mine who is a personal trainer.”
My mouth is stuffed with cinnamon roll and I frown at her. “What are you saying?” I ask around the sugar-laden bread.
“That wasn’t very kind, Preslee,” Mom tsks.
She starts laughing. “I didn’t mean anything like that!” Preslee stabs a cube of watermelon with her fork. “She’s moving to Dallas in three weeks to start working at a Pilates studio, and I just figured she could use some friends.”
I nod. “I’ll probably have to contact her after all the weddings.”
“I’m sure that’s fine.”
We talk for the next two hours. Tyler tells more about his job and how he ended up in Dallas and a Christian, and Wes tells a little bit of his story that I hadn’t heard before.
Apparently, he was adopted when he was two days old.
Coming from working at an adoption agency, it’s always fun to see the long-term happiness from an adoption. I heard so many good stories over the few years I worked there, but I also heard a lot of bad stories.
Good ones are always welcome.
“So, I was the oldest and then my mom and dad adopted my sisters from the Ukraine. They’re twins and we got them when they were eight months old. They were dropped off at an orphanage right after birth and they couldn’t do anything, they were just these tiny blobs with basically no hair because the orphanage was just so overrun that they couldn’t really give all the kids the attention they needed.”
“That’s just awful.” Mom shakes her head.
“Well, now they’re twenty-one and too beautiful for their own good.” Wes grins. “I spend a lot of time trying to talk my mom and dad into locking them into some sort of a tower so they don’t end up with some jerks.”
Tyler grins and I see the beginnings of male bonding.
Something very warm starts in my stomach. My boyfriend is getting along with my soon-to-be brother-in-law.
I didn’t grow up around boys, so having two at the table who are getting along and actually making my dad laugh is something pretty special.
“You should have seen me when my sister started bringing Mason, now my brother-in-law, around,” Tyler tells Wes. “I even went on about 50 percent of their dates because I was so paranoid about her being with any guy other than me. She hated me for a long time because of that.”
Preslee shakes her head. “I feel like I should start praying now that some
day, a long time from now . . .” she looks over at Mom, “a very long time from now, when or if God gives us children that He’ll give us sons.” She grins at Wes. “I’m not sure you could take having a daughter.”
Dad sighs, looking from me to Preslee. “It’s hard, I’ll tell you that much.”
Right then I finally recognize something.
My family is changing right before my very eyes. I look across the table at Preslee and Wes smiling all lovey at each other, and it hits me that my baby sister is getting married.
Married.
It’s like this whole time I’ve been so focused on how we have Preslee back, that she’s finally walking with God again, and we’re finally on the track to healing our relationship, and now she’s going to get married and I’m suddenly going to have a brother.
I glance over at my dad and he’s staring all wistfully at Preslee, even though she doesn’t notice it. He looks sad. My parents cried forever over Preslee. Every Christmas she didn’t come home. Every day was hard but significant days were worse.
And now, in a sense, they are losing her again.
I’m making myself depressed.
We talk and finish breakfast, then Preslee and I help Mom clean the kitchen while Dad shows Tyler and Wes the work he’s been doing on the backyard. Mom and Dad live on a couple of acres, so Dad has his work cut out for him. He loves it. He talks all the time about how he can’t wait to retire so he can work on the house all day long.
Which is probably why Mom keeps encouraging him to stick it out one more year at the office.
“I think he’s adorable,” Preslee declares the second the back door closes behind the boys.
“I should hope so. You’re marrying him in three weeks,” I tell her.
“Not Wes, idiot. Tyler. He’s adorable. And can you just picture that curly blond hair on a little baby some day?” She bumps Mom with her hip, and they both sigh over the cuteness of these fictional babies.
I’m trying not to hyperventilate.
Mom and Dad will have leftovers for the rest of the month. Mom sighs as she puts the ham into the biggest Tupperware container she has. “You guys didn’t eat enough.”
“Mom, if I ate any more, I’ll need new pants for the shower,” I tell her.
“What she said.” Preslee nods to Mom.
