Her Best Catch

by Lindi Peterson

  “What was all that about in Sunday school? Then in church you squeezed yourself between Braedyn and Velvet. What did I do?”

  And the beauty of the whole situation is he doesn’t really know. His ‘I’m-making-a-comeback’ announcement made him feel good. Although he said leaving me would be hard, he’d still do it.

  I won’t let my already involved heart become any more involved. “Ashton, can we talk after lunch?”

  “Forget lunch, Allison. Talk to me. Now.”

  He’s right. I know I can’t eat anyway.

  “Not here,” I say.

  “All right. Come back to my place, then.”

  “Not there, either.”

  Can you envision that scenario? Me, him, alone, me trying to stand firm.

  “Where, then?” he asks.

  Gray clouds scoot across the sky, and the breeze has picked up. The sounds of leaves rustling through the trees mingle with engines starting and children laughing as people make their way home after church.

  Home.

  “Come over to my house,” I say.

  “I’m right behind you,” he says.

  Minutes later I pull into my driveway as Ashton parks along the curb. The wind has really kicked up a notch. A storm is brewing.

  More than one.

  “I called Velvet and told her we wouldn’t be coming to lunch,” I say to him as we walk up the steps to the porch.

  I start to open the door, but he stops me.

  “Let’s sit here,” he says, nodding toward the swing.

  We walk over. He motions for me to sit first, then he sits, leaving absolutely no room between us.

  “Back to my original question. What gives?” he asks as he drapes his arm over my shoulder. I want to undrape it so I don’t become used to the feel of him, the warmth of him.

  “Ashton, I think we need to cool it.”

  There. I said it.

  “Cool what?”

  Oh, brother. Back to basics. “Us, Ashton. Us. And the way we’ve been carrying on.”

  His body stiffens. I can feel it in his arm that he has around my shoulders. Now it feels weighted, like a tree limb.

  “So, you’re saying you don’t want to hang out with me anymore?”

  The tree limb lifts away from my shoulders. The swing stops swinging as he sets his feet firmly in front of the swing. He folds his hands in his lap.

  Wounded. The man looks wounded. A reaction I wasn’t quite expecting.

  “Ashton, we need to focus on God. You’ve just come to church recently. You joined a young adult Sunday school class searching for something.”

  He stands and starts pacing. I start the swing back at a slow, gentle rock.

  “I needed some answers. I basically lost my job, my grandmother had started not feeling well. And I knew there had to be more to life than the one I was living.”

  “That’s why we all go, Ashton. To live life to the fullest.”

  He stands before me. His hands reach out and with seemingly no effort, stop the slow moving swing.

  “We can’t live life to the fullest together?”

  “Not right now, we can’t.”

  Those were five really hard words to speak.

  Ashton pushes the swing, sending it into motion, then turns away.

  His back is to me. I try not to concentrate on the view. Yeah, he’s in shape all right.

  Herein lies one of the problems. Instead of focusing on a nice derriere, I need to be focusing on God. So does Ashton.

  “You know,” he says, turning back around to face me. “I don’t get it. We have fun, we enjoy being around one another. What’s the problem?”

  We’re back to the Men are from Mars, Women …

  “You said it yourself, Ashton. You came to Sunday school looking for answers, and all you found was a girl who can’t think past your last kiss.”

  He smiles his gorgeous smile. “You can’t?”

  Tears pool in my eyes at his lack of truly understanding where I’m coming from.

  “No, I can’t. We have this mission trip coming up and we need to be focused for that. Besides … ” I take a deep breath. Might as well lay out all the cards, so to speak. “Besides, you may be leaving. My heart will be broken, and then what?”

  He leans against the side of the house, hands in his pockets.

  “If I leave, we don’t have to end. It’s not like I won’t be coming back,” he says, his voice serious.

  “I don’t want that. I want somebody who’s going to be around. Can you promise me you’ll always be around, Ashton?”

  He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

  “Allison, this pitching thing,” he starts. I don’t let him finish.

  “I know about your pitching thing. It’s you. It’s who you are. It’s what you need to do. So Ashton Boyd, go and do it. Be the best relief pitcher any team has ever seen.”

  “What if nobody wants me?”

  That’s something I can’t envision. At least not from a female point of view.

  “I have a feeling that’s not going to happen.”

  “So where are we now, you and me? Still friends?”

  “Of course. We’ve got a mission trip to tackle.”

  “You know,” he says, “if I’m going to behave myself, my hands are going to have to be permanently in my pockets around you.”

  “Do what you’ve got to do, pitcher.”

  “What about our date? The All-Star game.”

  Did I just break up with a guy I’ve never had a real date with?

  “I can’t go.”

  He turns his head, shifting his gaze away. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  Thunder rumbles in the distance.

  “You go. Network. Make the connections you need. You’ll have a good time.”

  He shakes his head. “Not as good as if you were there.”

  Way to go, Ashton. Make this even harder for me.

  He looks me straight in the eye. “I can’t change your mind?” he asks, his gaze hopeful.

  I’m not sure if he’s talking about the game or my whole spiel. It doesn’t really matter. He can’t change either.

  “No.”

  “I think we’re good together.”

  I smile. “We are. I just don’t know how good we’d be apart.”

  I lug my picnic basket from my car to the table. The Sunday school class has gathered at a park at Lake Lanier for the Fourth of July fireworks show. We all pitched in months ago to reserve this particular covered pavilion. It’s somewhat away from the major traffic, and the view of the fireworks is great.

  I’m one of the first to arrive. Braedyn is already here, making sure no one sets their food in the wrong spot. Heaven forbid if you have a dessert next to the chicken.

  I do a double-take as I look at Braedyn. She has her mass of brown curls in a ponytail. Braedyn never wears her hair up. Never. And she’s wearing little sunglasses, almost replicas of my everyday eyewear.

  What is she up to?

  It’s too hot to try and over-think. Braedyn will be Braedyn.

  I walk back to my car for my blanket, lawn chair and whatever else I’ve shoved in my beach bag, then I settle my chair in the grass facing the lake, and decide I better help my look-alike arrange the food, as everyone seems to be arriving at once.

  “I thought you and Ashton would be riding together,” Braedyn says.

  She hasn’t asked me a question per se, but she’s obviously searching for information.

  “We didn’t,” I say.

  “Is he coming?”

  Okay, that’s a direct question.

  “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully.

  “Ooh,” she says. “There must be trouble in paradise.”

  I did bring this on myself. I could have ridden with Ashton if I hadn’t given him the speech Sunday after church.

  But my heart is better off this way.

  I think.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Braedyn says
.

  Ashton has just stepped out of his car looking totally GQ. He’s traded his jeans and worn cowboy boots in for stylish baggy shorts and one of those printed button up shirts all the guys are wearing.

  I turn my back, so I don’t appear to be staring. Braedyn apparently doesn’t care if he sees her staring. Or gaping.

  He digs through his trunk then sets some things (probably ball gear) next to his car. Ashton leaves the ball gear and opens the passenger door to his car. (That kind of used to be my door. But considering my decision, I’m no longer a passenger any more.)

  He pulls out a tray. As he walks toward Braedyn and me, I notice it holds sub sandwiches all cut up into finger-sized bites. The guys will devour that in about two minutes.

  “Hello, ladies,” Ashton says.

  “Hi,” I reply.

  Braedyn can’t quit staring long enough to do her duty so I take the tray and set it next to the finger sandwiches Joanie brought.

  I guess seeing Ashton in shorts and something not polo has Braedyn acting like she’s never met him before.

  I notice he didn’t really look at me. At least not like he used to. But we can do this. We can hang out, be friends, and act no differently from the way we did before.

  Except for the kissing. And the hugging. And the closeness. And the feeling of having somebody special thinking you’re special too.

  Oh, Lord, did I make the right decision?

  I quit staring at the sandwiches.

  There are about eight picnic tables under the pavilion which sits on top of a hill. A really green grassy field lays to our right and front. The lake is accessible by walking down through a wooded area, crossing a road then walking through another wooded area.

  We usually don’t access the lake because we’re playing volleyball, or other ball related sports. Or we set up chairs and sit around and talk. Joanie usually brings her croquet set. That’s always good for a few laughs. Keifer usually brings his guitar, which always leads to us singing a few good songs.

  Other than being hot, it’s a really nice day. The sun shines as white puffy clouds move slowly across blue skies. The part of the lake we can see is crowded with boats, skiers, and jet-skis.

  Ashton has joined the other males of our group on the lawn. They’re kicking around a soccer ball.

  “The love couple is here,” Braedyn says.

  I turn around.

  Trelvet.

  They climb out of Trent’s car. Between the two of them they manage to retrieve everything they brought in one trip.

  I thought Trent would join the guys, but instead he motions me to an unoccupied corner of the pavilion.

  He has somewhat of a soulful, non-confrontational look about him. I hope that’s his real look and not some imaginary look I’m hoping for.

  We sit at a picnic table. Him on one side, me on the other. The table—and the subject of Ashton—between us. Well, that’s what Trent thinks.

  “I’m not going to the game, Trent,” I say hoping to ward off any upcoming lecture on the subject.

  “You’re not?” he asks, sounding surprised.

  “No. And you’ll be happy to know I’ve cooled it with Ashton.”

  The words came out easily enough, but they still feel stuck in my throat.

  “Allison, that’s not what I wanted.”

  Trying to take Trent seriously in his white shirt with pink sharks swimming around on it is very hard.

  “I didn’t cool it because I thought it was what you wanted. I cooled it because I needed to.”

  There. Words out again, more jargon to cram my throat.

  “Velvet pretty much told me I was wrong about Ashton. I really never gave him a chance. He seemed nice enough at my house Saturday night, but then the thought of him enticing you into going away didn’t set well with me.”

  He’s sincere. I know this. But even though I don’t have a dad, I don’t need Trent acting like one either.

  “And now I’m not going. So you should be all set.”

  “Allison. We’ve known each other too long not to be honest. You want to go.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want to do. I’m not going.”

  He takes my hand in his. There is no hot, burning sensation. Instead a warm brotherly comfort engulfs me. “I wanted to give you my okay. Not that you need it. Vel told me what you said about me thinking you don’t make good decisions. You do. You always have. I’m thinking the recent changes in my life, different from anything I’ve ever known, have my brain all worked up.”

  Of course he’s talking about Velvet. Oh, I mean Vel.

  “We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” I say.

  “And I’m sure we’ll go through a lot more,” he adds.

  My face is flushed, waiting for a cool breeze to relieve the July heat. The covered pavilion protects us from the immediate rays. It’s too bad there’s no covering to protect our hearts.

  “Still friends?” he asks.

  “Forever,” I reply.

  We stand. Hug.

  Velvet is still oohing and aahing over all the food as I make my way over to the table. She has put her dish right where it’s supposed to be. Like her life. It’s going along how it’s supposed to.

  Good for her.

  Trent has joined the game in progress.

  In a short time the whole class is accounted for.

  I’m feeling weird. I mean, I’ve known these people for years, yet nothing stays the same. Trelvet is now established. There’s no going back for them. They either will blossom as a couple, or the friendship can never be.

  And at this very moment Braedyn is frolicking with Ashton. Yes, frolicking.

  What a depressing sight. I’m sure it’s not depressing for anyone else to watch. I’m a sideline sitter during the volleyball game. It’s hot, and I’m not very athletic. Braedyn seems to be trying to mimic the behavior of Trent and Velvet. She’s pretending to be act like Velvet, while looking like me, and she thinks Ashton is Trent.

  Is she making a play for Ashton? I guess she has the right, but the thought of anyone else enjoying those mind-blowing kisses really burns me up.

  The volleyball game ends. Everyone is wiping their foreheads and gulping down water.

  A baseball glove lands in my lap. I look up.

  Ashton is standing in front of me, little beads of sweat framing his face, his eyes sparkling with fun.

  My heart beats faster, and I try to tell myself it’s because of the heat.

  “I think it’s time to practice,” he says.

  Up until this moment we really haven’t communicated. I thought it best to keep a safe distance. Right now I’m wondering how he managed to escape Braedyn.

  “Remember, I’m not very good,” I say as I stand.

  “How could I forget,” he says with a grin.

  We stand a fair distance apart, and he throws the ball to me. Not hard, and right on target.

  I take the ball out of the glove. I roll it around in my hand thinking of how he did the same thing in my front yard not too long ago. This ball holds energy for him. Life.

  For me it holds heartache. Fear of the unknown.

  “Aren’t you going to throw it back?” he asks.

  He’s trying to keep our friendship a friendship. I guess it’s not so hard for him. He has something to look forward to.

  I shove the ball back into the glove. Keifer stands not far from me. I walk over and hand him the glove.

  “Here you go, Keifer,” I say. “Play catch with the pitcher.”

  “You sure?” he asks.

  “Positive,” I say. “But watch out. He’s pretty good.”

  Dusk turns to dark as we spread our blankets to prepare ourselves for the fireworks show. My blanket is overlapping Trelvet’s and Braedyn’s is overlapping mine.

  Ashton didn’t bring a blanket so Braedyn has offered to share ours (she’s calling the part that overlaps ours).

  We sit for a short while talking about all sorts of different thi
ngs.

  “Trent,” Ashton says. “What are you doing a week from today?”

  “Working. Why?”

  Ashton looks at me and I know why. My look wants to say back, yes, I’m very aware one week from today would be the All-Star game. The one I have declined to attend.

  “I have an extra ticket to the All-Star game and I thought you might like to go.”

  “Like to go? I’d love to go. But I’ve already had to make arrangements for Allison’s party at the end of the month. So I don’t think I can ask to switch shifts again so soon.”

  “Besides,” Velvet says. “You’d miss me too much.”

  Trent doesn’t say anything, but he smiles his smile that tells her he certainly agrees with her.

  Keifer has chosen this moment to plop himself on our blankets.

  “What about you, Keifer? You want to go to the All-Star game next Tuesday?”

  The look on Keifer’s face is priceless. I wish I had my camera. (Of course Braedyn has hers, but she’s too busy staring at Ashton to notice the look on anyone else’s face.)

  “Are you joking?” he asks.

  “No, man. I’m serious.”

  Keifer thumps his palm against his forehead.

  “Geez. I can’t. I’ve got a business trip that’s been

  planned forever. There’s no way I can get out of it.”

  “That’s okay,” Ashton says.

  “You’re just walking around with an extra ticket?” Keifer asks.

  “Yeah. Allison here was supposed to go, but she can’t. So I have an extra ticket.”

  I see all the stares directed toward Ashton. I might have cooled our non-relationship, but I can still help him out.

  “We had our own rooms. Just a friend type thing. But like Ashton said, I can’t go now.”

  “I can go.”

  That particular volunteer would be Braedyn.

  Even though it’s almost dark I can see Ashton’s face. I’ll give him credit. He doesn’t look comfortable.

  “If there’s two rooms and you and Allison were going I don’t see a reason why I can’t go. I work my own schedule. And Ashton, I could bring my camera and get some great pictures.”

  What should he say, I wonder? I know what I want him to say, but will he?

  “That’s a great idea, Braedyn,” Keifer says.