“Is that why you’re sitting by yourself?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Or is that your choice, and I should respect it and just let you be? A lot of people prefer to experience worship by themselves, rather than with people they hardly know.”
“No, that’s not how I feel. Most everyone who welcomed me drifted off after they’d said hello.” I had to admit that they’d almost seemed to have had a scripted segment down. Each had asked if this was my first time, how I’d heard about the single adult group and how long I’d been a believer . . . if in fact I was. And although my purposes for being at this mixer might not have been purely spiritual in nature, I wasn’t going to lie about my beliefs or my religious history. When my first four greeters had heard the word ‘Episcopal’, they’d each gotten a glazed look in their eyes and eased away from me.
“Huh. That’s a shame, because that’s not how we’re supposed to welcome newcomers.” He smiled, and a dimple popped out in his cheek as he extended his hand to me. “So, let’s try it my way. Hi, I’m Grant Meyers. Welcome to the Sherrill Avenue Adult Group. We’re glad you found us.”
I laid my hand in his, returning his smile. “Hi, Grant. I’m Vivian Rexland, and I’m happy to be here.”
“That’s more like it.” Grant held onto my fingers for just an extra few seconds before releasing me. “Now come on. Let me introduce you to some people.”
Grant led me to the front of the room, where a group of men were standing in front of a stage. I’d noticed that it was set up as though they were about to put on a concert, with a full drum kit, guitars and stands and mics, but I assumed that was left over from a previous event. As we approached the guys, though, I realized from their conversation that they were all, apparently, musicians . . . and they were getting ready to play now.
“Grant, five minutes, dude.” One of the older men held a fist for Grant to pound. I schooled my face not to wince at how awkward they both looked doing it. “You ready to rock for Christ?”
Grant laughed easily. “Always, my brother. Hey, you all, this is Vivian Rexland. She’s here for the first time tonight. Vivian, this is the praise team—Paul, Josh, Jed and Clark.”
“Heyyyyyy.” The man who’d fist-bumped Grant bobbed his head, looking me up and down. “Well, good to meet you, Vivian. Grant, where’ve you been hiding her?”
Grant shook his head. “No, she just—”
Behind us, a microphone squealed with feedback. A man in jeans and black T-shirt with a painted white cross on the front tapped the mic, grinning. “I know we’re all having fun, mixing and getting to know each other, but before we move on, we need to praise and worship the Lord. Praise band, get up here. We’re ready to go!”
There was a low buzz as everyone took a seat. Grant pointed to the front row. “Why don’t you sit front and center, so you can get the full effect? I’ll come sit with you after the worship set.”
I nodded and sat in the nearest empty chair, next to a girl who looked as though she couldn’t have been much more than eighteen or nineteen. She was wearing a pretty short-sleeved blouse and jeans, and I noticed that her eyes followed the band as they took the stage.
The guys immediately launched into a rollicking tune, and everyone stood up. The words to the song were flashed onto a screen behind the stage. I tried to follow along, but I found myself stumbling over the unfamiliar phrasing. I did my best, though I couldn’t quite make myself raise up my arms and wave my hands as some of my neighbors were doing. Some were clapping, too, while others threw back their heads, eyes shut in some kind of rapture that I didn’t quite understand.
I watched Grant surreptitiously as he played bass and sang backup. He was good-looking, in a very wholesome and white bread way. He reminded me a little of Jeremy, although my ex-boyfriend hadn’t been religious in any way. Maybe it was the clean-cut certainty that they both had, even though Jeremy’s devotion was to his career and logic, while Grant’s was to a much higher power.
Yeah, Grant was easy on the eyes, but within a few minutes, I found myself comparing him to someone else. Charlie wasn’t quite as tall as Grant was, but his body was definitely much . . . more. More muscled, more solid and much more intriguing to me. I had a feeling that if I ran my hand over Grant’s shirt, he’d smooth it to make sure I hadn’t wrinkled him, while Charlie might catch my hand in his and lift it to his lips. Or maybe he’d just strip off the shirt to get it out of my way . . .
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to fan myself. I wasn’t sure it was kosher to be fantasizing about my neighborhood hottie while I was at a church function to meet frogs. I had to be more focused if I was going to get anywhere with this crowd.
After a couple of songs, the music dropped down to a low hum as the guitarist approached the lead singer, who stepped back from the mic, a big grin on his face. The guitarist—I was pretty certain he was Josh—lifted the microphone from the stand as the rest of us took the opportunity to sit down and rest our legs.
“Hi, everyone. We’re all so glad you’re here with us tonight. These mixers have been such a blessing to all of us, and as some of you know, they’ve been extra special to me.” He gazed down at the front row, and for a split-second, I had the panicked thought that he was looking at me before I realized he was focused on the girl next to me.
“I remember the first night Miranda showed up here. She was looking lost and not sure if she’d made the right choice to join us, and I was so glad that God led her here. I was also so glad that I was the first one to welcome her—I had to basically trample down four other guys in order to reach her before they did!”
There was a ripple of laughter over the audience. Next to me, the pretty girl who was apparently Miranda covered her face with her hands, giggling.
“We’ve been so blessed over these months of getting to know each other, under the guidance of Pastor Mark and the rest of church leadership. And since we met here, in this very room at one of these mixers, it only seemed right that I share this with all of you, too.” Josh bent, offering his hand to Miranda. “Would you come up here and join me, Miranda?”
Her face went red as she stood and allowed him to pull her up onto the platform. Once she was there, Josh dropped to one knee, still holding her hand.
“Miranda, God has brought us together, and I’m so thankful for that. I know He’s going to bless our lifetime together, because we’ve been faithful. Keeping His plan in mind, I hope you’ll do me the honor of being my lifetime partner and wife.” He popped open the box that he’d produced from his pocket.
“Oh, wow!” Tears ran down Miranda’s face. “Oh, Josh. I can’t—I can’t believe this! Yes, of course. With God’s help, I can’t wait to be your wife!”
Applause broke out, and around me, several women were sniffling. I got it; a proposal brought out the sentiment in all of us. But since I didn’t know these people at all, I found myself feeling more than a little cynical. Josh had referenced the ‘months’ he and Miranda had gotten to know each other, and I wondered if that really meant that they’d only been dating that long. It seemed a little fast to me.
I also noticed that while he hugged her briefly once he’d gotten back to his feet, they didn’t kiss, and he let her go quickly. As I watched the two of them, there didn’t seem to have the same chemistry I was accustomed to seeing between couples who were talking forever. They seemed more like two people who were still getting to know each other.
The man who’d called the band to the stage at the top of the evening jumped back to the stage and snagged the microphone from Josh.
“Well, praise God, right? We’ve all been praying for this couple for a while, and it’s always a blessing to see answered prayers. Hey, for our new friends, I’m Pastor Mark. And I’m up here looking around at this praise team, and you know, I’m thinking they all have a lot to praise about, amen? Do you know that in the year we’ve been doing these mixers, every one of these guys has found the person God made especially for him? Three of them are married, one is now engaged, two are
expecting babies in the next few months . . . everyone’s committed except for Grant.”
Grant shook his head, rolling his eyes and grinning.
“But I saw the way he beat a path to one of our new friends tonight, so stay tuned, folks! Within a few months, I may be blessing another brand-new couple, right, buddy?” Pastor Mark looked back at Grant and then pointedly down at me. “God leads us to the one we’re meant to partner with for life, and that’s a blessing. Now let’s pray.”
Around me, heads lowered and hands folded. The room went silent as Pastor Mark raised thanksgivings, intercessions and petitions to the Almighty. I stared down at the floor, discomfort making my feet itch to race out the door.
What the actual fuck? I’d just walked into this place and spoken to this dude for a few brief minutes before this pastor guy, who didn’t even know me, was intimating that Grant and I were going to be the next two people to stand on stage as part of the world’s most awkward marriage proposal. I glanced around to see if anyone else found this whole thing preposterous. If they did, they were hiding it well, since no one else was looking up.
The door was all the way in the back and across the room. Depending upon how much longer this prayer droned on, I thought I might be able to make it there, push through the door and make a run for it before anyone spotted me escaping.
“. . . in Your mighty, powerful name, amen.” Too late. “Hey, hasn’t this been a fun night so far? I’m going to go all preacher on you and ask you to open your Bibles to the second chapter of Acts . . .”
Pages flipped as everyone else did as instructed. I folded my hands and hoped no one called on me as the lone non-Bibled person.
“Want to share?” While I’d been plotting my getaway, Grant and the rest of the praise band had left the stage, and now Grant slid into the chair on my left. He opened up a worn-looking black Bible and pointed to a column. “Don’t feel bad. Lots of first-timers don’t bring their Bibles with them. If you don’t have your own, we have a stack in one of the Sunday school rooms that are free for the taking.”
“I have a Bible,” I whispered back. “It’s at home.” In one of the boxes I hadn’t unpacked yet. “I thought this was going to be more of a, you know, mixer. Party. Gathering. Not a service with a sermon.”
“This is just the start. Don’t worry, the message is short, and then we have time for fellowship.” He shifted so that he was a tiny bit closer to me, our bodies not quite touching. “This is what he’s preaching on.”
For twenty minutes, I sat there, frozen and stuck, while Pastor Mark elaborated on the finer points of the early church and the teaching of the apostles. None of it was new to me, but I noticed that most of the people sitting near us were busily highlighting passages and scribbling notes in the margins or in small notebooks. I felt like a kid who’d come unprepared to class.
When it was finally over—after another interminable prayer—I stood up, hiking my pocketbook strap over my shoulder. Grant rose, too, closing his Bible and tucking it against his hip.
“Now this is the fun part. Can I get you an iced tea or something?” He looked at me expectantly. “We don’t do much in the way of food here, because most of us end up going out after and eating at a restaurant. Some of the small groups meet at the diner around the corner, or one of the coffee shops nearby.”
“You know, that really sounds like a blast, but I didn’t realize how late it was. I need to get home. I’m staying with my aunt, and she worries about me.” I knew it sounded lame—and it was of course total bullshit, because Aunt Gail was out with a group of her friends.
“Oh.” Grant seemed momentarily deflated. “Okay. Well, can I walk you out at least?”
“Uh . . .” I couldn’t delude myself that I was even the least bit interested in this guy. I was sure he was sweet and earnest about his beliefs, but I also had a hunch that he wasn’t going to go along with my theory about drinking wine bringing me closer to Jesus. Still, if I could get him to give me even a quick kiss, I could count him as a frog for the article. At this point, I couldn’t afford to be too choosy.
Plus, I couldn’t help thinking that writing about my experience tonight was going to give my piece an added dimension I hadn’t planned.
“Sure,” I answered him. “That would be really nice.”
As we wove our way through the crowd, several people said hello to Grant, and each time, their eyes slid to me. I didn’t miss the knowing expression there. It was giving me a serious wiggins. I needed to get away from this place before they had me bound up and engaged to a man I’d only just barely met.
Once we’d stepped into the parking lot, I turned to face Grant. “My car’s right here, so I think I’m fine now. Thanks for walking me out.”
“You’re welcome.” He stood about a foot away from me, studying me. If I was going to get a kiss out of this frog, I had a sense that I was going to have to up my game.
“Tonight was, um, fun.” I took a step closer. “That was wild, about your friend getting engaged. Have they been together long?”
“They’ve been courting for about five months.” Grant eased back again. “But Josh has been ready to get married for a while. I know he’s glad that Miranda finally came along.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nice for them. I guess sometimes it’s just love at first sight, for some people.”
Grant frowned. “No, I wouldn’t call it that. They got to know each other and realized they both had the same goals and shared a common belief, and they knew God had brought them together.” He lowered his head, making sure he was looking straight into my eyes. “I’m glad you came tonight, Vivian. I’d like to call you, if that’s okay. Maybe we could meet for coffee or something. I think it’s possible that God brought you here tonight, just so that we could meet.”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know about that. I’d need to get to know you better before I could come to that kind of conclusion. We’d have to hang out together, spend some time together . . . you know. Get better acquainted.” I stepped closer to him again, and this time, I gripped his arm so that he couldn’t step back. Maybe he was shy about making the first move. I wanted to give him every chance to get over that.
Grant eased away from my touch. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions about what you mean, Vivian, but I should probably be clear. Our church teaches abstinence, and we don’t do casual dating. We practice courtship, with a godly marriage being our end goal. If you and I were both on the same page, we’d meet with Pastor Mark, tell him that we want to court, and he’d be our guide as we pursued that. We don’t touch casually, and we don’t kiss until the wedding.” He shrugged. “I understand that might be foreign to you, but if you’re feeling drawn to me, that’s how it goes. That’s how we do things.”
I dropped my hand. “I respect your beliefs, Grant. I really do. But I don’t share them. Honestly, I can’t even understand them. I have friends who believe in waiting for marriage to have sex, and that I can understand. But kissing? Touching? God, I don’t see how that’s healthy. What if you agree to marry someone and find out she’s a horrible kisser—on your wedding day, when it’s too late?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not the point. We know that if God has brought us together, He’ll overcome anything like that. It’s not a big deal.”
“Grant, I trust God, too. But my understanding of God is that He wants me to use the brain he’s given me to make good decisions, and also, He doesn’t frown on kissing. I think He likes the kissing. You know, maybe you should give it a try before you make up your mind.” I moved up again, pressing myself closer to Grant. I felt nothing as my body grazed his . . . nothing, that is, but a desire to get this over with, go home and dig into the carton of fudge peanut butter ripple that I’d put in the freezer that afternoon.
This time, though, Grant didn’t step back. Instead, his hands gripped my upper arms. “Vivian, if I understand you right, you’re not interested in courtship with me. Am I following you?
”
I nodded. “Yes, you’re absolutely correct. Not into the courtship deal. Let’s kiss on it to show there are no hard feelings.”
He lowered his head closer to mine. “If we’re not pursuing courtship, I could kiss you. I’m not defiling our potential marriage. You don’t share my belief system, so it would be okay to do this.”
“Sure, it would.” I smiled in relief. One more frog kiss was about to go into the books. “Go for it. You’re never going to see me again, so you don’t have to worry about a guilty conscience. And no one’s around to see it happen, either. I won’t tell if you don’t.” I winked at him.
“Yeah.” Without any further talk, Grant jerked me closer and sealed his lips on mine. There wasn’t any finesse here, folks. It was all pressure and teeth and tongue. He put it all into this one kiss, as though it was the first one he’d had and the last one he’d likely enjoy for a while. . . which, come to think of it, might have been the case.
When he came up for air, his eyes were wide and bright. “That was . . . incredible.”
I slipped out of his grip. “It was very nice.” I resisted the urge to wipe my mouth off. “Well, Grant, thanks for everything. I wish you the best of luck in finding the person God’s chosen for you.”
“Uh huh.” He stared at me. “But you know, it could be a while before she comes along. Maybe in the meantime, we could get together and . . . hang out, like you said. It would be okay as long as no one knew and since we’re not interested in marriage, I’m not sure it’s even a sin.”
I backed up. “Grant, that’s really flattering—I think—but I’d hate to be the cause of any, ah . . .” I searched for the right word. “Any conflict that might arise between you and your beliefs. I don’t think we’re looking for the same things in life. But I do wish you well.”
Before he could protest, I unlocked my car and jumped into the driver’s seat, purposefully not looking his way as I started it up and began to back out. When I heard the thump on my hood, I startled, worried I’d accidentally hit something. But no, it was just Grant, one hand on the front of my car as he motioned for me to roll down my window.
Fifty Frogs Page 11
