“You guys should get married,” Natalie says.
“Nah,” Ashton says. “We’re just good friends. Right, Allison?”
Right, Allison? What is he doing? Giving me a chance to change my mind right here in front of the kids? I can’t think straight when he’s being everything I’ve ever looked for in a guy, but this is not how life would be normally. This is pretend. Make-believe.
But what if it could be? Do I dare hope? Could I dare dream? I look at Ashton but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at his baseball, twirling it around in his hand and tossing it up in the air.
Baseball. How dare I forget?
“Right,” I say through a strained, somewhat holding-back-tears-voice. I know it’s my decision, but he seems so comfortable with it, I wonder now if he ever wanted it any other way.
Ryan is a great preacher. We have a short service every night and each night he’s given us a good, inspiring message. Something meaty to think about. Tonight is no exception. I’m sitting in the pew between Pixie and Braedyn. Pixie’s husband Russell is sitting on the other side of her, and the rest of the guys, Ashton, Keifer, Randy and Bandy are sitting behind us.
The little wooden church is old and quaint. Maybe sometimes quaintness is another word for poverty.
An upright piano sits at the front of the church. Mrs. Sutton, the mother of the Ben, Beau, Brittany and Bonnie, is the pianist. She’s come every night this week to play for our service. The smile on her face as she plays God’s music is as comforting as the songs of peace and praise. The red carpet is clean, worn threadbare in spots from all the years God’s people have come to worship. The wooden pews have been polished to gleam like a light from God.
The people in Redmonson may not have a whole lot of money. What they do have is a whole lot of love for God.
“I get chill bumps when he speaks,” Braedyn whispers in my ear as she rubs her arms.
She’s obviously talking about Ryan. Not God.
I smile and nod.
“Hey. No talking during church.”
That was Ashton whispering in my ear from behind. I get chill bumps when he speaks, too, his breath tickling my ear. I rub my arms.
Everything about him affects me in some way. His voice, his eyes, his tenderness, his enthusiasm, his outlook.
Even by breaking things off when I did, I’m already so far in that I’m finding it hard to stick to my decision. Maybe something this strong is worth the risk of being hurt. Worth living the type of life I’ve never wanted.
I’ve been praying about this. Trusting God to give me direction. I’ve searched my heart, listening for God’s word. I’m starting to believe I was hasty in my decision. How many Ashtons are going to come along? And what might I find wrong with the next one? What part of him or his lifestyle isn’t going to conform to exactly the way I had envisioned my life?
Ryan and Randy stand at the front of the church, serving communion. I’m in line behind Braedyn, in front of Ashton.
After dipping the bread into the juice, I kneel at the altar. Bowing my head and closing my eyes, I start my prayer by giving silent praise to God. Praise that he has blessed me with a wonderful, although sometimes crazy, family. He has given me my best friends. But more than those things, he’s given me salvation. Life eternal through his son, Jesus Christ. Sometimes his grace is unimaginable. Unfathomable.
A soft whisper of a touch caresses my arm. I resist the urge to open my eyes. There is no need to anyway. I know it’s Ashton kneeling beside me. His arm must have brushed mine as he knelt.
I’m sure it was an accident.
The church is silent and filled with the presence of God. Now I squeeze my eyes shut really hard, trying to make them see only darkness. Maybe in darkness, the light of Jesus will shine so brightly I won’t be able to miss it.
Dear God, I begin. I know You have plans for us, to prosper us, not to harm us. Lord, please, show me Your plans, show me Your path You’ve set aside for me. I want to do Your will, guided only by You. Lord, this week has shown me how everyone in Your Kingdom has their place, their role. Help me to recognize mine and follow through.
And God, about Ashton.
What? What is it I want? More importantly what does God want?
I’m turning my non-relationship with Ashton over to You. To Your sovereign knowledge and wisdom. You, Lord, know what is best for me and my life. I’m giving it all to You.
As I start to rise, Ashton’s hand covers mine. I stay on my knees. Ashton moves closer to me. I can smell his shampoo, feel his warm breath.
“God, thank You for Allison.” His prayer is barely a whisper, but I hear. And God hears. “Thank You for leading me to her church, her class and her life. She’s meant more to me these last weeks than she’ll ever know. Only You, Lord, know how much. Her insights, her love of You, her dedication to living right have helped show me the right way to live. Thank You for giving me such a good friend even though I don’t deserve her. Or You.”
I want to tell him none of us deserve God’s grace. God gives it freely. Ashton has just as much right as anyone to accept it.
But I don’t say anything. I’m too stunned by his prayer. He’s thanking God for me?
My eyes tear and I wipe the corners before Ashton helps me to my feet. I walk back to my seat, humbled beyond belief.
Ryan closes the service.
My brain is still in a fog as we gather towards the back of the church to indulge in some punch and homemade gingerbread.
“You guys have done a great job. Only a couple of days left. Are you happy with what you’ve done for this little place?” Ryan asks.
“I think we’ve accomplished a lot,” Randy says. “We’ve made a lot of repairs.”
“Everybody’s worked hard,” Ryan says. “And the Bible school is going great. The kids are going to miss it next week. And Ashton. Big hit with the balls and gloves, man. The boys haven’t quit talking about it.”
“It was something I wanted to do,” Ashton says.
“But most importantly,” Ryan says, “all of you have shown this town God’s love at work first hand. You’ve been generous with your time and yourselves. I’m so thankful God sent you to us. I’m going to hate to see you leave.”
Ryan’s looking directly at Braedyn as he speaks the last sentence.
And Braedyn knows it. She hasn’t been her usual forward self around him. Maybe she’s interested? I’m not really sure. I know she was interested in Ashton, and she was forward around him.
Maybe she realizes that strategy doesn’t work and decided to do something different the next time she finds someone interesting.
I wander over to the stained glass windows. They have given-in-memory-of plaques underneath them. I like to read the names. I’m not a morbid person, although I do like to visit cemeteries.
“This is a cool little church, isn’t it?”
Chill bumps race along my arms. Again. Actually, I don’t think they’ve ever left.
Ashton.
“Yeah. It is,” I say.
“I’m glad we have a minute.”
I turn to face him while my mind goes crazy. What does he want to talk about? I’m already so torn and so torn up, I don’t know which way is up.
I step back. Being physically close to Ashton is detrimental to my mental and physical stability.
“I wanted to tell you how much I admire you,” he says.
Admire? Starts with an a. Like awesome. I’ve now gone from awesome to admirable.
Is that a step down?
“Why?” I ask.
“Because. We had this thing starting. I was all about you. Wanting to be with you. I couldn’t see past it. But you, man, you saw the big picture.”
Between the comments he made to the children and the altar prayer I suddenly wish I hadn’t seen the big picture at all. I know if he asks me to go back with him, I will.
In fact, if he doesn’t mention it, I’m going to. I’ll just say I made a mistake. Or I’ve chan
ged my mind.
I’m a woman, remember? I’m allowed.
My insides are all anxious and excited and wary. I know what I want to happen. What has to happen.
“Allison. Today, with the kids, playing ball … it’s what makes me happy. And if we’d stayed together and I knew you weren’t happy with my career, I couldn’t be really happy, and it would have been a bad scene. Look at my mother. She didn’t have enough courage to be a single mom. She didn’t look past what was going on that minute and looked how it turned out. Bad.”
I cringe. He’s brought the bad memories of his bad mother into our scenario. This isn’t boding well for me or anything I might say now.
He takes my hands in his, and looks at me with those dreamy eyes. “I want you in my life always,” he says. “But I know our relationship has to be a friendship. You’ve made it all so clear. And I thank you.”
He squeezes my hands which are limp, unresponsive.
Way to go, Allison. Now try to convince this man all the logic you used on him just a couple of weeks ago wasn’t really logic at all. Just try.
“I’m glad we’re friends, too.”
Those are the only words I can manage. They sound hollow and meaningless.
Well, meaningless to me. A revelation to him.
My only revelation is that we make choices. I chose to be friends with Ashton, he wants to be friends with me.
Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?
Only I didn’t know perfect could hurt so bad.
CHAPTER 22
I pull into my driveway exhausted. It’s almost four o’clock Sunday afternoon and I still have a lot to do. Unload, unpack, unwind.
Everything here looks exactly the way it did when I left. The house, the trees swaying slightly with the breeze. The familiar sounds of cars passing by. How can everything still look the same when I feel so different inside?
The trip was incredible, and I’m still reeling from all we accomplished and all I learned. I feel closer to God now more than I ever have.
I also feel somewhat lost.
Closer to God and lost. What a combination.
The lost part of course has to do with Ashton. I’ve lost him. Whatever part of him I had, that is. And I’m not sure how much of him that was, but I know his lips were included in the package.
If I close my eyes and try real hard, I can still feel his lips on mine from the last kiss we shared.
Intoxicating. Mesmerizing. Gone.
Oh, but we’re still friends. The best of friends.
Cool. How could I forget?
I’m really too tired to think and don’t know why I’m even bothering to try. I need to take my bags inside, unpack, start the washer and take a shower.
In that order, I might add.
“Hey, girl. How’d it go?”
Velvet appears next to me as I pull the luggage from the trunk.
“It was great, Velvet. I wish you could have gone.”
“Me, too. I missed you.”
I look at my best friend. Really look. She’s such a beautiful person, inside and out. I did miss her while I was away.
Trelvet cannot ruin my friendship with Velvet. Life isn’t going to stay the same. We all can’t stay single, young, unmarried forever.
Okay, maybe that’s wishful thinking. (Wishful on the young part.) Because obviously I could end up staying single forever. But Velvet and Trent have found something together. I think I finally, truly wish them the best as a couple.
I want to give her a big hug, so I do.
“Hey. What’s that for?” she asks as we pull apart.
“I just love you,” I say trying not to get all teary-eyed and mushy.
“I love you, too,” she says.
My heart is full of love for my best friend, but it’s also full of love for a tall, brown-haired pitcher. Yes, love.
After searching my heart, praying to God, and spending the whole week with Ashton, I realize I’m in love with him. This observation is a little late, but none the less true.
I’m in love.
I would let the feeling overwhelm me, but it’s Velvet standing in front of me, not Ashton. It’s Velvet I just said I love you to, not Ashton. It’s Velvet that just said she loved me back, not Ashton.
My acceptance of Trelvet has come at the same time I figure out what love really is. Coincidence?
Probably. But it doesn’t matter. They win, I lose.
“You all right, Allison?” Velvet asks.
“Not really,” I say, blinking back tears. Now I know I’m tired. I cry at the drop of a hat when I’m over-tired. And I didn’t drop a hat, I dropped Ashton. And he reciprocated by dropping me.
“Want to tell me about it?” she asks.
I wipe the corners of my eyes. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”
“Never. What is it?”
I take a deep breath as I search for the right words.
“I’ve lost him, Velvet. I just realized I’ve really fallen for Ashton, as in love, and I blew it.”
We lean against my car. Mrs. Hamilton drives by and waves. We wave back.
“What happened?” Velvet asks.
“Nothing really happened. But being with him for a week, seeing how he is with the kids, watching his love for God grow, it just made me realize how much I like him. So I tried to tell him. I mean, we had this moment where we were alone and I thought, ‘This is perfect. Just tell him you made a mistake and you want to start seeing him again.’”
I look around at my familiar surroundings trying to gain some strength. It doesn’t work.
“What happened? Did he blow you off?”
“No. I didn’t even tell him. He spoke first and told me my decision had been right. He even said I had more courage than his mother when it came to making important decisions.”
“So that’s how you left it?” she asks her eyes wide with an I-can’t-believe-you look.
“What was I supposed to do? Tell him I was wrong? He brought his mother into the picture. His bad mother who abandoned him? How was I supposed to argue with that?”
She pushes her hair behind her ear. “Well, you were wrong, right?”
I miss him. Knowing I was wrong makes me miss him more. Makes me hurt more. And not knowing what could have been has my brain in a permanent state of confusion that is making me miserable beyond belief.
“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I say. “I mean people date all the time and they’re not in love. Shoot, Velvet, we never even had a real date. We had lunches, prayer meetings and a funeral. Not exactly falling in love scenarios, huh?”
“But you fell, didn’t you?”
“I did. He didn’t.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask. Take a risk, Allison.”
My third load of laundry is in the washer, my second is in the dryer, and I just got out of the shower. So I guess I can say I’ve really cleaned up. Everything.
I’m in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before I head to the sanctuary of my bedroom. My mother comes in, looking younger than ever in a short skirt, high heels and a tan. I thought Grandma was the one who went on vacation last week, not Mother.
“Do you notice anything different?” she asks.
I’m deciding how honest I want to be.
“Looks like you went on a vacation. You’re tan.”
“It’s one of those spray-on tans. I think it looks real, don’t you?”
“It looks real, Mother. But you’ve never had a deep, dark tan. So I’m not sure that it looks like you.”
There. A compliment and the truth. But I should have ended with a compliment. The sandwich method. Start with something good, then the not-so-good stuff, then finish off with something good.
Oh, well. Too late now.
“Well, I had to schedule some activities while you and your grandmother were gone.”
Tanning is now considered an activity?
“Mother, if you want a tan, you can have a tan. It looks ni
ce.”
Nice is a good, safe word. Not too strong, yet not negative. Perfect for this situation. Mom seems to like it, too. She smiles.
She seems happy. Content.
H’mm. Just a suntan wouldn’t make a woman so content. What has she been up to?
“What other kind of activities did you participate in last week, Mother?”
Maybe she met a guy. One who would share her values and principles. Guy. Ashton. I can’t go there. I can’t think about him.
My heart is heavy. You know the feeling. That little gnawing inside telling you something isn’t right. Not catastrophic. Just not right.
I focus on my mother and her new tan and the way she’s not answering my question. Her birthday is Saturday. This time next week she’ll be fifty. She won’t look any different, but will she feel different?
Ah. Another reason to mega-tan. Maybe she thinks she looks younger. And if someone finds out she’s actually fifty, well, they can say “You’re joking, right? You’re not fifty.”
And as of Saturday night, one hundred close friends and family will know she’s fifty. Way to go, Allison.
Have I created a disastrous situation here?
The party had seemed like a good idea two months ago. I only wanted to make sure she had a good time on her birthday.
“Allison, are you listening?”
“What, Mother?” No, I had not been listening.
“You asked me what I did while you and your grandmother were gone. I answered, but you were in some other world. I don’t think you care.”
“I wasn’t in another world, Mother. I was thinking about you.”
Which lately would put me in another world, because I think she’s living on another planet with the way she’s been acting. Venus, I suppose. But who am I to say?
“Mother. Don’t forget. Be here Saturday night for dinner. Grandma and I want to make you a special meal.”
She gives me a look that I really can’t discern. Confusion, defiance, what-are-you-talking-about.
“You don’t have a date, do you?” I ask.
That would be my luck. Well, he’ll just have to eat here. At the party.
“No. I don’t have a date. Yet.”
Her Best Catch Page 17
