How to Stuff a Wild Zucchini

by Heather Horrocks

  Despite his words, Lori suddenly felt exactly like John’s last fling, and a twinge of jealousy hit her. Almost to convince herself, she said, “I don’t want to get married.”

  “I do. I want a family like my brothers have. A wife and children.”

  “But how can you trust a person that much?”

  He shrugged. “I just trust.”

  “You’re open and trust people. I’m closed and mistrust.”

  “I know, but maybe we can look on those as some of my regrettable bad habits,” he teased. “Everyone has some.”

  He’d finished the sundae, so they got up to leave. He paid the bill and dropped a five-dollar tip on the table.

  Waiting at the door for him, she wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. He wanted to get married.

  She knew he liked her. And she knew that dating led to marriage. Hadn’t she actually planned on marriage with Nicholas at one time, fool that she was? Though she realized now that she’d known all along that Nicholas wasn’t the marrying kind.

  Lori knew John would easily find someone nice after she left town. It would likely be Dawn, who was obviously in love with him. Another twinge of jealousy ate at her.

  And Lori would be moving back to New York and putting her life back together, like Humpty Dumpty trying to piece together some sense of healthy relationships and career.

  John opened the door for her. After he’d climbed into his seat, he said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

  She smiled but didn’t say anything.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you enjoy your time with me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. She enjoyed his company very much.

  She did enjoy his company, and he had turned out to be a good friend at a crisis point when she had desperately needed a good friend. And she supposed that, as long as he was willing to date on those terms—just while she was here in town—then she was still willing to do so, too.

  But perhaps it would be wise to begin spending more time with some female friends, like Serena and Agatha, and to meet more

  people. That way, she could enjoy the time she had left with John, without having all her emotional eggs in his basket. She couldn’t afford to let her heart get involved. And she couldn’t afford to lead him on so that his heart got involved, either.

  They’d continue to be friends. Good friends. Exclusive good friends. And then she’d return to New York and to her own life and pick up the pieces somehow.

  Maybe being here, with John, would help her understand how a guy ought to treat her, something she’d never realized before. But now she knew she wanted a man who was gallant and kind and gentle and strong, all at the same time. Someone like John.

  She’d never have guessed it when she first moved here, but she suspected she was going to miss John and even the slower-paced life here. Maybe even going to church, because she wasn’t sure that once she got back to New York, she’d continue. She was afraid maybe she wouldn’t.

  ~

  Still disturbed by her date with John, by the emotions he’d raised in her, Lori punched in Marti’s speed dial number as she bounced onto the bed.

  “What’s up?”

  Just the sound of Marti’s cheerful voice calmed Lori. She knew she was safe asking her friend anything. Thank goodness. Because she couldn’t figure this one out on her own. She sank down onto the pillows. “Listen. I need to ask you something. Something important. And please don’t laugh at me.”

  “I would never laugh at something important.”

  “Okay. It’s about . . . John.”

  “I’m not surprised. Go on.”

  Lori sighed. “I feel like John fell for me so quickly that it feels totally impossible. So . . . is quick love possible? Or is it just silly, something that happens only in fairytales and romance novels?”

  Marti’s voice softened. “My grandfather has often told me the story of when he fell in love with my grandmother in the first grade. The first time he ever saw her, he knew she was going to be his wife. They’ve been married for more than sixty years. I knew within a month of meeting Bryce, even though we waited nearly a year for the actual wedding.” Marti was quiet for a moment. “Are you . . . in love . . . with John?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t think so. We’re just friends. But I really enjoy his company. And I feel peaceful around him. But I’ll be leaving Brigham City and never see him again, so there’s really no future for us.”

  “Just because your parents only knew each other for three months before they got engaged doesn’t mean that John will do what your father did. Don’t run from love.”

  Her friend’s words stung—probably because they were true. Lori sat up on the edge of the bed. “His attention is flattering, but he’ll get over me in no time.”

  “Take a deep breath. Right now. I mean it.”

  Lori did as instructed.

  “Now take another one.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay. Is John in love with you, Lori?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Lori, listen to me. Please give this a chance. If you’re there for three months and think there’s a future with this guy, stay as long as you need to make sure. A good man is worth it.”

  Lori shook her head, as if Marti could see the gesture. “I think Dawn’s the woman for him. He just hasn’t realized it yet.”

  “Don’t talk yourself out of it, okay? Promise me you’ll give romance a chance with him. Please, Lori. Don’t pull another Nicholas on me.”

  “Are you kidding? John is nothing like Nicholas.”

  “Yeah, but there’s more than one way to not end up with the right man. One is to date the wrong guy. The other is to date the right guy, but find reasons why it won’t work.”

  “Marti, I’m afraid. He makes me feel things I haven’t dared feel for a long time. And I’m not just talking about romance. I’m talking about spiritual things.”

  Was she kidding herself? Was John in love with her or just intrigued by a challenge? Was Dawn the one for him? Was she pulling a Nicholas again, only a different variation? She was still so confused about everything. And what about the spiritual side of her that John had reawakened? Did she even want to trust God again? Did she dare to trust anyone?

  “I think it’s great. I already like the guy,” said Marti. “So promise me you’ll give him a chance.”

  “I can’t make that promise.” Because then she’d have to keep it, and she was too afraid of how fast things were moving. She thought it would be wise to spend less time with John. “In the meantime, though, I’m going to spend more time with some other friends.”

  “That’s exciting news,” Marti teased. “So you’re coming here to visit me?”

  Lori laughed. “With other Utah friends, silly.”

  “Darn it.”

  “If you want to stay current on your pseudo-swear words, here in Brigham City it’s ‘flip,’ said in two syllables.”

  “Well, fliiii-iiiip.”

  “Better. You’re nearly ready to come visit me.”

  “I just might. I’d like to meet John Wayne Walker.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lori set down Charles’s scriptures and drew in a contented breath. In her time here in Brigham City, especially during the week and a half since speaking with Marti, she’d fallen into a gentle routine.

  She supposed she was doing what Marti had suggested long ago—Lori was slowing down. And, surprisingly, she found herself enjoying the relaxed pace.

  She was going to bed by ten o’clock, when her New York friends were just hitting the clubs, which she’d never felt comfortable in anyway, and she awoke feeling almost decadently rested around eight. She’d leisurely get up, shower, and eat a good breakfast of granola and fruit. After t
hat, she’d research and work on her column for four hours, fix lunch, and read the Book of Mormon for awhile.

  She couldn’t explain it, but she found herself calmed by the time spent in that book. She was in Alma now.

  Standing and stretching, she wandered outside into the garden. It was peaceful among the plants, too, and she’d never have guessed how much she’d come to enjoy the time spent here. Usually she came out in the cool of the morning or late afternoon, but today it was overcast and cooler than usual, probably only eighty degrees.

  As she walked around the garden, plucking out little weeds here and there, she could see that the zucchini was going crazy. There had to be hundreds of them on the spreading vines.

  Shaking her head, she raised her arms toward the plants and said, dramatically, “Zucchini, I command you to stop growing!”

  Someone chuckled and she spun to her right, feeling foolish. Agatha smiled at her over the dividing fence. “Oh, child, there’s nothing on earth a soul can do to stop zucchini from growing. Why don’t you just let the garden go? Stop watering and weeding it. Let it wither away.”

  “I can’t, Agatha. I promised Charles I’d take care of it.”

  “Well, you promised to take care of his cat, too, but Fluffy is over here at my house again.” Agatha laughed. “So just let the garden go. It’ll give Charlie something to do when he returns.”

  Worried she’d abused the older woman’s generosity, Lori asked, “Do you want me to take the cat?”

  “Oh, lands, no. I want you to take it easy on yourself.”

  “I only wish I knew how.”

  “Important to learn. Well, gotta run. I’ve got a genealogy class tonight.”

  Amused, Lori watched the older woman go inside. As she turned back to the incredibly prolific garden, shaking her head at the harvest awaiting her, her cell phone rang.

  It was her mother. “Hey, honey, are you all right?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I’ve just had a feeling to call you for the last day or two, and I’ve been so busy I haven’t gotten around to it. What’s going on? Why am I getting this feeling?”

  Her Relief Society mother had always been far too intuitive where her children were concerned. So why not tell her mother? “Hey, Mom, would you like a good laugh?”

  “Sure.”

  Leaning over, she plucked off a perfect-looking yellow squash, brushed off the dirt, and set it on the grass. “I’ve gone to church every Sunday since I got here.”

  “Which one?” Her mother sounded suspicious.

  Lori laughed. “The LDS church, Mom.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s great.” Her mother’s voice softened. “See, I told you it was fate.”

  “Thanks for the I-told-you-so.” Lori smiled and went a step further. “John’s been taking me.”

  “John?” Her mother’s voice perked up another notch.

  “He’s just a guy I’m dating, but it’s no big deal.”

  “Is he cute?”

  Lori thought about his handsome face, broad shoulders and strong arms, tapered hips and long legs. And his smile. “Oh, yeah, he’s definitely cute.”

  “And . . . he’s Mormon?”

  Lori rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. He’s a nice, Mormon guy. Nothing at all like Dad.”

  Her mother paused. “Speaking of which, your father called me this week and asked for your phone number.”

  It took only a few seconds for Lori’s good mood to dissipate and the conflicted feeling to reenter her heart. She hated her father for that—that he could still ruin her peace of mind and heart with just a mention of him. “I hope you didn’t give it to him.”

  Her mother sounded sad. “I didn’t, not without asking you. But Lori, honey, you need to forgive him.”

  “It’s not going to happen, Mom. Ever.” Her own words made her heart heavy with bitterness and anger and hurt. “Can we please talk about something else?”

  ~

  Two days later, seated in the chapel between John and Serena, Lori’s mind wandered to the pleasant memory of John kissing her good night after last night’s movie.

  She could get used to those kisses.

  In fact, she hoped she got another one today.

  She knew she’d decided to hang out more with other friends, and she had made some plans, but she was enjoying her time with John more and more, even though she knew he was just a holiday romance. But that couldn’t keep her from enjoying him while she was here. He was good-looking, nice to kiss, and fun to be with.

  She settled back comfortably into her memory, hearing only bits and pieces of the bishop’s announcements. Her mind returned to a few days before, when John had brought her a bouquet of roses and daisies just because. She smiled.

  “ . . . Lori Scott . . .”

  What? The sound of her name brought her out of her reverie with a start.

  “Sister Scott?” the bishop said from the pulpit. “Would you please stand so everyone can see you?”

  Lori repressed a groan and did as instructed.

  “Would everyone who can welcome the newest member of our ward please do so by the uplifted hand.”

  Everyone raised their hand—well, except for Dawn Lawson, who was seated two rows ahead of them. Lori was sorry the pretty redheaded woman so thoroughly disliked her.

  Lori sank back down between her friends, thankful to no longer be the focus of the entire ward’s attention.

  John leaned over and whispered, “Who transferred your records so quickly?”

  There was only one person who would have done this. The same person who’d done the same thing no matter where Lori moved, even though she’d sworn never to go back to church. “My incorrigible mother,” she whispered back.

  John chuckled. “Incorrigible, eh? So you and she have a lot in common, I take it.”

  She narrowed her eyes, but he continued to chuckle softly. She knew who she thought was incorrigible at the moment.

  Unable to lose herself back in memories, Lori sat tensely through the bishop’s testimony and through the next thirty minutes of other people bearing their testimonies.

  Finally, John reached over, took her hand, and rubbed his thumb across her palm, sending sensations shooting up her arm. Though she was acutely aware of his touch, at the same time she began to relax back into the bench.

  Toward the end of the meeting, a little boy skipped to the front, the first child she’d seen today—not surprising in a singles ward. Barely able to see over the pulpit, the boy pulled down the microphone and spoke directly into it. “I love my family. I’m glad we got to come visit Uncle Steve. I love my brothers and sisters. Well, most of ’em. My brother Zach hits my arm too much, but I still love him. I know the Church is true. And I’m sorry my family sometimes uses the naughty four-letter word.”

  Silence exploded across the chapel as the boy skipped back to his seat, unaware of the silent commotion he’d caused. Everyone turned to see the people the little boy was sitting with. After a long moment, the man sitting next to the little boy stood.

  “That must be the little boy’s foul-mouthed father,” whispered Serena with a giggle.

  The relatively young man—probably in his late twenties—worked his way to the podium, his face bright red. He cleared his throat. “Um, before I bear my testimony, I think I’d better clarify something. In our family, the naughty four-letter word stands

  for . . .” Looking pained, he closed his eyes and spelled out,

  “F-A-R-T.”

  A rumble of laughter from the congregation was quickly muffled. After the noise stopped, he proceeded to bear a very nice testimony.

  Serena whispered to Lori as they both struggled to stop laughing. “Are we still on for lunch Wednesday?”

  Dawn turned to toss a q
uick glare at Lori, who could feel the other woman’s animosity from two rows away. Hoping to soften the situation, Lori smiled at Dawn, but Dawn frowned and turned away.

  Lori glanced at John. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his face down, he apparently hadn’t noticed the exchange, for which Lori was glad.

  Lori touched his hand, and he immediately interlaced his fingers with hers. The warmth and touch reassured her. As long as she stayed close to John, she felt at peace.

  Dawn might win John back later, after Lori left town, but for now Lori was thankful she had him.

  ~

  After church, a man approached Lori. “Sister Scott? I’m Brother Jacobs. The bishop would like to speak to you.”

  Whatever for? she wondered. Most bishops hadn’t called her in. But, she reminded herself, she hadn’t gone to church for years so they hadn’t had the chance.

  She followed Brother Jacobs down the hall, making small talk, and stepped into the office.

  The bishop rose, smiled warmly, and put out his hand as Brother Jacobs closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

  Lori shook the bishop’s hand—he had a nice, strong handshake—and sat in the indicated seat next to the desk. He settled himself in his seat, swiveling so he faced Lori.

  Only a few inches taller than Lori, Bishop Robertson looked like a Marine sergeant, complete with short gray fuzz on his head, but with a belly that had expanded from a six-pack to a barrel. His smile was warm and friendly, and he reminded her of Greg’s likeable and encouraging Scoutmaster back in New York. That resemblance relaxed her somewhat.

  “Sister Scott, I want you to know I’ve enjoyed your articles. You have a great deal of creativity.”

  “Thank you.” She certainly hadn’t expected that, and the praise washed over her, bringing a warm feeling. He seemed sincere. “I’m surprised you’ve read them.”

  “I’m not the only one. You’ve certainly enlivened the gardening discussions in my neighborhood.” He smiled. “And I’d like to see that happen around here. I want you to share your many talents with the other ladies, so I’m extending a calling to you to serve on our Enrichment committee.”