Her Best Catch

by Lindi Peterson

  He’s sitting in the folded metal chair looking very uncomfortable. His suit (nobody our age wears a suit to church anymore unless it involves a wedding or a funeral) is very nice, but looks stiff, like it doesn’t want to be here. If the truth be told, Ashton looks like he doesn’t want to be here.

  Can you really blame him? I mean, he came to this young adult class, and the girls probably gave him a complex the minute they went squealing out the door. Then the guys obviously flocked to him, probably asking him too many questions he’s probably been asked before.

  When Velvet nudges me I realize I’ve been staring. But I’m not staring for the reasons Velvet probably thinks I am.

  Yep, I’ll admit on a scale of one to ten he’s a ten and a half. Definitely pushing an eleven. But there’s more to a good man than looks. There’s substance. What kind of substance is Ashton Boyd made of?

  Velvet takes my hand as Jax starts our prayer. The warmth of her hand during the prayer reminds me that above all we are sisters in Christ. Trelvet or not.

  Jax finishes the prayer and we all focus on him. He sits at the front of the semi-circle, Bible in his lap.

  “All right everyone,” he starts. “We’re beginning a new book today. Turn to James. It’s in the New Testament towards the back.”

  People start to murmur, and pages rustle as everyone makes their way through the scriptures.

  Braedyn flies across the room to where Ashton is sitting. No one has sat on either side of him (I guess there are plenty of chairs after all), and Braedyn has offered to share her Bible with him.

  That is so sweet and hopefully sincere of her. He smiles at her as she introduces herself. His suit doesn’t smile. Somehow it manages to look even more uncomfortable next to Braedyn’s bright yellow sun dress and fluorescent yellow sandals.

  Ashton and Braedyn aren’t the only ones sharing a Bible.

  Trelvet only has one Bible today. I wonder who forgot theirs. Or left it in the car on purpose.

  “We have some new faces today,” Jax says. “Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves.”

  I want to shout “Trelvet!” when it’s Velvet’s turn, but I don’t. I sit there quietly like a good girl.

  When Ashton speaks his name it’s low, humble sounding, as if he’s trying it out for the first time.

  Then it’s Braedyn’s turn. “Braedyn Roth.”

  I can’t explain how it comes out but it’s as if she wants to make it sound important. As if it’s unimportant after the celebrity. Oh well, she has her issues. I have mine.

  Jax has to settle everyone down again after the introductions.

  I scan the text as he reads out loud from the book of James.

  Pure joy. Trials. Perseverance. This scripture talks about something we know because we believe in the word of God. But it’s hard to put certain scriptures into practice. I mean, joy in trials?

  Would God consider Trelvet a trial in my life?

  Next Jax is going to want us to share experiences. I can’t share about Trelvet. Trelvet doesn’t even know I’m struggling with the situation.

  Of course there was the trial of my Dad dying. That was rough. Although it quickly became apparent getting my mom back on track had become a bigger issue than dealing with my loss.

  “Okay,” Jax says. “Give me thoughts. What’s going on in your heads?”

  A sniffle here, a cough there, feel the silence everywhere.

  This silence is so typical. Nobody wants to be the first to speak, but once someone does, watch out. Then no one will be able to finish a sentence because they’re being interrupted.

  Braedyn raises her hand. She always does when she wants to speak. Must be some leftover issue from elementary school. Maybe the teacher never called on her and she’s never gotten over it. “What if you don’t feel like you’ve had any trials?” she asks. “Would that indicate God thinks your faith is already where it needs to be?”

  “Nobody’s faith is where it needs to be,” Courtney Picklesimier says. “If that were the case, where’s that person’s growth process?”

  “Maybe they need to grow in other areas,” Braedyn shoots back.

  “This brings up an interesting question,” Jax says. “Do you guys think anyone ever achieves the fullness of God on earth? Can we reach the pinnacle in certain areas that involve living a Christian life?”

  “Not in today’s world.”

  That statement is made by Keifer Stark. Keifer is a good old southern born guy, with sandy blonde hair and a stocky build. He also has a good sense of humor and is a lot of fun when we go bowling, or have a party. Especially when we have a party because he always brings his guitar. He has a great voice and we usually jam out singing some really great praise songs.

  Normally I’m pretty vocal in our discussions. But today I’m enjoying just listening. Trelvet isn’t speaking either. In fact, I think I see them passing notes.

  And our newest member Ashton isn’t voicing any of his opinions. He’s still sitting next to Braedyn, his hands folded in his lap, Braedyn’s Bible resting partially on one of his knees. It teeters as Braedyn shifts in her chair, and Ashton steadies it with his hand.

  I’ve caught him looking my way a couple of times, but he’s probably scoping us all out. Wondering what we’re all about.

  It’s kind of unfair. He’s got all of us to wonder about, but we, as a group, only wonder about him. We all know the rest of us. We know we’re just a group of adults trying to live right with the help of others.

  What does Ashton want? Why is he here? Does he read the Bible? He must believe at some level. Otherwise he wouldn’t be in our class. Or maybe he’s searching. That would put him right in the middle of the group. Because we’re all searching.

  I glance at Trelvet.

  Some of us have found something. Will that something later lead to nothing? Are they on their way to heartache?

  And having someone in your life doesn’t relieve you of having trials. In fact, your trials double, because you have another person to deal with. And then, if it ends, how devastating is that?

  I’m not really sure if that’s how I’m supposed to be looking at life, but it’s how I’m choosing to look at it right now. Tomorrow, it may change.

  Isn’t that a girl’s prerogative?

  Our Sunday school class is made up of a group of diverse people. As diverse as we are individually, our schedule as a group can sometimes be rigid. We go to the same places the same Sundays after church. The first Sunday of the month we hit Pizzaly—the local Italian place. All you can eat pizza. The girls were way out-voted by the guys on this one. Oh well, it’s a small sacrifice to satisfy one of their primal urges. Food.

  The third Sunday it’s Jax’s favorite burger place, Brody’s. The fourth Sunday it’s Chi-Chi’s. No further explanation needed. On the occasional fifth Sunday we hit Lo-Liens Chinese. Some people in the group aren’t very fond of oriental food, so about four times a year is enough for them. When we go they order lot of appetizers, i.e., wings and ribs. Basically American fare.

  Since today is the second Sunday we’re headed to The Hot Spot. This is the female favorite. There’s a salad bar, bread bar, baked potato bar, soup bar, and a dessert bar.

  That’s a lot of bars. We always joke around and tell the elders we’re going bar hopping. The joke is really old now, but we still tell it and they still laugh.

  Some things never change.

  At the Hot Spot we all go through the buffet line, everyone paying separately. Except for Trelvet. I notice Trent takes out his wallet, while Velvet stands there, smiles and says something to him. Probably a thank you.

  Velvet is polite. Like Trent.

  If this two-day relationship continues forever, I guess they’ll have very polite children someday.

  The employees at the Hot Spot expect us every second Sunday. They always have several tables pushed together towards the back of the restaurant. I guess you could say we have a standing reservation.

  I al
ways sit next to Velvet. But today, instead of following me, she follows Trent. To the other side of the table. I set my tray down, and Trelvet sets their trays down directly across from me. Great. Now I get to stare at Trelvet while I eat. If I can eat.

  Of course I can eat. There’s really not a whole lot that prevents me from eating, and I manage to stay a size eight-ten. I wonder how long that blessing will last.

  For some reason everyone takes all their plates off their plastic green tray. Not me. I like the boundaries the tray gives me. My food doesn’t accidentally get eaten by my neighbor who wonders why he’s eating something he didn’t even choose. i.e., cottage cheese.

  Since Velvet ditched me, Keifer sits on my right. His salad plate is piled extremely high, a disaster waiting to happen. And he has three loaded baked potatoes.

  “Is anyone sitting here?”

  I turn to find Ashton Boyd standing behind me, tray in hand, nodding to the empty chair on my left. He’s apparently speaking to me. I suspect answering him would be a good move.

  “No. It’s kind of a free for all. We sit wherever.”

  He carefully takes his plates off his green tray and places them neatly on the table. His salad is at a respectable level, and he only has one potato.

  He’s ditched the suit jacket and tie. His long sleeves are rolled up, giving a much more relaxed impression. I’m surprised, yet encouraged that he joined us for lunch. Usually a new person attends a few times before he or she ventures out with our group.

  I’m encouraged because I hope this means he’s interested in interacting with people who are trying to live a Christian life. We fail and fall, but continue to learn and try to grasp the incredible mystery of God.

  Ashton sits and we are very close in proximity. I can’t help but wonder what the name of his cologne is. It has a clean scent. Like he just stepped out of the shower.

  Behind us I swear there is an almost cat-fight going on between Braedyn and Joanie. Who will win the coveted spot next to our celebrity?

  I’d gladly give up my seat—shoot, I could probably sell it—but I don’t want to call any more attention to the situation. You’d think we didn’t have eight or nine single guys in our group.

  Isn’t this a blow to their ego? I would ask Keifer, but he’s too busy demolishing his food.

  I guess Ashton is used to attention. I mean he’s probably done countless interviews, been on TV, and I’d bet anything he has a fan club.

  Maybe I’ll Google that information and email it to Braedyn.

  Actually I should be grateful to Braedyn, who won the cat-fight and now sits proudly next to the celebrity baseball player for the second time today. She’s keeping him so occupied that he’s not bothering me.

  Not that I wouldn’t like to converse with him. Today I’m just not in the mood. The group has picked up on the fact that Trent and Velvet are now Trelvet, and the hopes for a successful couple coming from the group have been raised again.

  We’ve only had two successful couples come from our class. Both couples married then moved out of state.

  Omigosh! There’s another good reason for Trelvet to part ways. They can’t move. I mean what would I do if Velvet didn’t live within driving distance to Chi-Chi’s?

  I pick up my water glass, prepared to down half of it pre-meal, to suppress my appetite. Keifer’s elbow goes wild in an apparent attempt to save his leaning salad of Pisa and slams into my arm which knocks my water glass totally out of my hand. It sails at a ninety degree angle into Ashton’s chest, then falls into his lap.

  Note to self: always remember to push chair as close to the table as you can.

  Braedyn screams, then gives me an evil look, like I flung my glass into celebrity baseball player’s lap on purpose.

  I glare at Keifer who’s still trying to salvage his salad, probably unaware of the damage saving his lettuce has caused.

  Ashton keeps repeating everything’s fine as he takes the napkins that are being offered to him from around the table.

  Braedyn is desperately trying to help him dry off, poking her napkin at him, but not actually touching him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I finally say. “I didn’t mean to,” I add, rolling my eyes towards Keifer.

  Ashton looks at me, smiling the most incredible, sincere smile. His gaze indicates he’s not mad. In fact I think he’s in some ways enjoying this episode.

  He rolls his eyes toward Braedyn and shrugs his shoulders.

  The lower part of his torso and his lap are soaked. He excuses himself and heads towards the men’s restroom. I’m surprised Braedyn doesn’t follow him.

  “Allison. What are you doing?” Braedyn hisses when Ashton is out of earshot. “He’ll never come back.”

  Does she mean to church or from the bathroom?

  “It was an accident.” I shrug my shoulders. “Keifer here is the one who should take responsibility.”

  Keifer has now figured out the consequences of saving his salad. He promises to apologize to Ashton when he returns from the restroom.

  “Braedyn,” I say. “You wouldn’t be this concerned if my water had landed in Keifer’s lap.”

  “Well, duh,” she intelligently replies. “Keifer is Keifer.”

  “And he’s a human being. Just like Ashton.”

  “You just don’t get it,” Braedyn says.

  Such animosity between Christian Sunday school participants. Although Braedyn’s not really mad at me and I’m not really mad at her. This is just a level of frustration between two women that will pass.

  Ashton returns, his light blue shirt looking dark blue in places just like his gray slacks look black where the water spilled.

  “Allison’s really sorry,” Braedyn blurts out before Ashton even settles back in his chair.

  “It’s okay, really,” he says.

  I believe he’s sincere. He’s got an aura about him which leads me to believe what you see is what you get.

  “We normally don’t treat our new members this way,” Braedyn tries to joke.

  The joke would have hung flat in the air but for Ashton’s response.

  “You mean I wasn’t just baptized?”

  I smile. Our celebrity has a sense of humor.

  “Besides,” he adds. “I’m persevering. You know, finding joy in my trials.”

  Impressive. Not only can he make a funny joke, he remembered the lesson and put it into practice.

  That’s more than I do on any given week.

  Way to go celebrity baseball player. Good for you. Good for Jax for leading us in ways we need to go.

  And kudos to God for giving us guidance and grace.

  I see where we are with God’s grace. i.e., fighting, arguing, jealous, depressed.

  And wonder where we would be without it.

  CHAPTER 2

  How appropriate is it to incorporate a beach theme into my mother’s surprise party? I mean, I am serving barbecue.

  Barbecue and beaches.

  Beachy barbecue.

  Beach blanket barbecue.

  The purpose? To cheer my mother up. She’s been wacky lately, like she needs a vacation. She talks about wanting to go to the Caribbean. Warm, sunny, foreign nice men.

  But she won’t go alone. Most of her friends are married which has left her out of the loop on some level.

  Not intentionally. Her friends are dear and they still invite her places and attempt to do things. But facts are facts. They are couples. My mother is no longer a couple, although she’s putting forth her best effort.

  You now see I have come by my Trelvet anxiety naturally. I’ve inherited it.

  It’s Monday afternoon and I’m at work. I’m supposed to be working, but the numbers are all running together today. My head is not clear, so it’s a good time to put some unclear thoughts into my mother’s party.

  I want to send out invitations within the week, because people’s schedules fill up quickly. The more notice, the better.

  During my lunch hour I had stopped b
y the party store to pick up the invitations. There I was reminded that in this day and time all parties must have a theme.

  So my search began.

  I thought the beach theme would give my mother a feeling of being on vacation. I bought one hundred fun-looking invitations decorated with umbrellas, beaches and sand and very blue water.

  After I returned to the office, it dawned on me I had already ordered barbecue. Hence, my dilemma.

  Do they make grass skirt overalls?

  I need to talk to Velvet. She’s the decorator. She can figure this out. After all, being a decorator is along the same lines of throwing a party, isn’t it? I mean, if you can deck out a whole room or office or house for that matter, you can certainly coordinate a simple party.

  Before I can pick up the phone to call her, our receptionist Dave, who is very chic, buzzes my phone and tells me I have a call on line two. Now my unclear mind is divided between party themes and the chic way Dave says ciao to his fellow employees instead of a simple goodbye at the end of the day. But it’s not the end of the day, it’s only mid-afternoon and my head hurts. Trying to slip into my work brain, I pick up the phone.

  “This is Allison.”

  “Allison. Ashton Boyd.”

  I’m shocked therefore I don’t speak in a timely fashion.

  “From church,” he adds, like I may not remember him.

  Foolish man.

  “Ashton. Yes. Hi. What’s going on?”

  Am I really interested in what’s going on with him? I’m more interested in why he’s calling me.

  “Not much,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind me giving you a call at work, but since I had your number, I thought why not?”

  After the water fiasco during lunch he had asked me what version of the Bible I used and I had written it down on the back of my business card. I mean, he asked. Not for the business card, but for the information. I had no other piece of scrap paper around, so I used the only paper I had.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Are you busy?”

  Busy planning my mother’s confused party. But I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about that.

  “I’m not slammed at the moment.”