by Amanda Tru
“I just meant that it might be safer. Guys who sign up there will be expecting a girl with some moral standards. They’re not just looking for a hook-up.
“Oh, right. Still… I don’t think that sounds very safe, and if my parents found out, they’d kill me.” Eleanor stood up. “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for listening to me whine, and thanks for the coffee break. It was good to get out of the office and have a little female companionship for a change.”
David looked over the top of his laptop screen and contemplated his feet, propped on the coffee table. His mom’s handknit socks never quite matched each other, but they were warm. Would his wife knit socks? She might, or maybe she would be more interested in fishing or hiking. Or playing the violin or driving a race car. Or flirting with other men and shopping for things he couldn’t afford. You couldn’t order up a wife like a sandwich on a menu.
His gaze returned to the computer. He’d read every page of the website at least twice. It looked decent, and there was a free trial. It wasn’t specifically Christian, though—just founded on “Christian principles.” Still, the goal was traditional marriage, and he was pretty traditional. He clicked on the privacy tab and scanned the fine print again. They promised to destroy his information if he requested it.
What if it was a train wreck? What if it was a success? What if people found out about it, either way? Would it damage his chances of entering the ministry if a church knew he’d found his wife online? David closed the computer and shifted it from his lap to the couch next to him.
“O, Lord. I’m not hearing Your voice here. I don’t want to do anything outside of Your will.” David fell silent and waited. Nothing. Was he overthinking it? There was no commitment—no harm in just filling out the application and seeing what they said.
He set the computer on the coffee table and opened it. The website opened with a tap of the mouse. Betwixt Two Hearts. Silly name, but it was better than Virtual Dreams Digital Dating. He’d backed out of that one right away and been afraid to google for more options. Betwixt Two Hearts would have to do.
David scooted forward and hunched over the computer. He flexed his fingers and began to fill in blanks.
The coffee house had been transformed overnight, from Christmas to Valentine’s Day, nearly six weeks ahead of time. David carried his coffee to a small table in the corner and checked his email for the third time since entering the building. Nothing from the matchmaking agency, of course. He’d only filled out the form last night. It would probably take a while, even if there were any girls in the area. He winced. What if there were a lot of college students on their list?
“Hey there. What’s that look for?” Larry pulled out the chair and sat.
“Just borrowing trouble from tomorrow. I filled out a profile on that website you showed me, and now I’m getting cold feet.”
“That’s great—that you filled it out, I mean. I hope it works out. You never know about those places.”
“Now you’re skeptical? You were all for it two days ago.” Indignant, David dropped his phone on the table. “It just occurred to me that the only available women in this area might be college kids.”
“Oh, yeah, that could be,” Larry said. “I hope your new social life doesn’t interfere with our lunches.”
“Work and school are starting to interfere with our lunches,” David admitted. “I only have half an hour today. We had our monthly meeting this morning, and it ran late. I don’t know how we can spend two hours discussing stuff and not have anything significant to say or change.”
“Those things are just to keep in touch. Employee bonding or something like that. There’s my number.” Larry shoved his chair backward, jostling the table behind him.
The blonde girl seated there grabbed her computer before it could slide off the table, but the mouse escaped, hitting the floor and tumbling under Larry’s feet. He stepped on it and staggered like a slap stick comedian, clutching at their own table. David prudently lifted the coffee cups.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry.” The big man picked up the remains of the mouse. “I think it’s dead.”
She regarded the bits and pieces. “Yes, it looks dead.”
“Let me pay for it.” Larry put the mouse on the table and pulled out his wallet. “I don’t have any cash.” He turned to David. “Do you have any cash?”
David shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t.” He looked around. “No cash machine in here, but you could probably go buy something and get cash back.”
“No,” said the girl. “Don’t bother. I can afford a new mouse.”
“No, I broke it; I’ll pay for it.” Larry stomped off, calling over his shoulder. “Hang on. Don’t leave.”
The girl stared after him, clearly exasperated, before standing to put the tables and chairs back in order. David jumped up to help. “Sorry about that.”
“I don’t know why they put these tables so close together.”
“They can squeeze more people in this way,” David said. He sought words to fill the awkward wait. “Sorry about your mouse.”
“Not your fault. I think I’m the only person who still uses one. I just can’t seem to get the knack of using the pad.”
Her eyes were denim blue. Not sky blue, or like sapphires or forget-me-nots, but like denim. Like his favorite jeans or the jacket his dad wore on his motorcycle. David had never seen eyes quite that color.
The eyes disappeared as she dropped her gaze to the table, and he realized he’d been staring, not listening to her words.
“Um, I use one, too. I’m an engineer, and the mouse works better for drafting.”
She nodded, not meeting his eyes. She probably thought he was a creep. David dropped into his chair. No wonder he had to use an online dating service. No social skills at all.
“Here you go.” Larry reappeared and dropped money on the girl’s table. “I am really sorry.”
“It didn’t cost that much.” She picked up one of the bills and handed the rest back to him. “Please. Thank you for covering it.”
Larry wavered briefly before putting the bill in his pocket. “Sorry.” Reseated, with his back to the girl, he grimaced at David, obviously aware of the girl’s proximity and finding it difficult to resume normal conversation. “So, how’d your prayers come out? Any better than last time?”
“No, not really. I had some questions, and I haven’t got a response yet.” Behind his friend, he saw the blond girl lift her head from the computer screen, blue eyes wide and surprised.
Before he could think of a way to rephrase his answer, Larry went on.
“Why is it taking so long?” He forked a bite of salad into his mouth and continued talking around it. “Oh, right. You said he was getting married. Maybe he’s been busy with his new bride.”
The absurdity of the conversation and the girl’s fascinated expression—she wasn’t even pretending not to listen—suddenly struck David as hilarious. He burst into laughter, immediately regretful when she snatched up her computer and stalked away. She left the broken mouse on the table.
“What?” Larry raised his brows.
It wasn’t worth explaining. “It’s harder than you’d think to write out prayers.”
“I didn’t think there was a right or wrong way to pray.”
“There’s not, really,” David said, “but Professor Neresen says we should understand all the elements if we’re going to be able to help other people learn to pray.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re saying there’s a certain way they have to learn.”
David rubbed his chin. “But what would you say if someone asked you how to pray?”
“I’d tell them you just talk to God like you would a person.”
“That’s right, but there’s more to it, too. Adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication… those are just words we made up to remind us, but he says we shouldn’t ignore them, because Scripture says to do them. Praise God, confess your sins, give thanks, pray for the needs
of others as well as our own. You don’t do all of those things every time you pray, but you do need to be doing them. It sounds easy, but this is a really intense class.”
Larry didn’t look convinced. “If you say so. Hey, you’re late. Sorry about the interruption.” He cut his eyes to the side and gave a small backward jerk of his head.
“She’s gone. She heard you say that God was busy with His new wife and took off.” David chuckled.
It was the free trial that sucked her in. The respectable dating sites—if there was such a thing—were expensive. The cheaper ones—and especially the free ones—gave her the willies. According to one website, nearly 3% of single Americans were using online dating apps. That same website informed her that over half of their members lied on their profiles. Caveat emptor. Buyer beware.
Eleanor drummed her fingers on the keyboard as she read the Betwixt Two Hearts website: Christian principles, traditional marriage, not required to have a certain faith, treat others with respect, terminate account at any time. Perfect. She didn’t want to get married, but otherwise it looked good. She clicked back to the registration page, grinning as she typed in her name with a flourish. Whatever would her mother say?
Ten minutes later, she leaned back in the leather recliner and considered the computer screen. She’d done the easy part; now she had to come up with creative answers, to attract the kind of man she needed. The matching was done by computer, unless you asked for a personal matchmaker. A computer would be better. She could game the system, work the algorithms…
She couldn’t do it. Eleanor picked up her phone and tapped a text to Brittany.
Eleanor: Want to meet for coffee tomorrow? Lunch? Dinner after work?
The reply was immediate.
Brittany: Sure. Lunch where we had coffee? Noon?
That was easy. Explanations would have taken forever by text. Eleanor made a smiley emoticon and typed.
Eleanor:☺ Thanks! See you then.
“Teachers are used to eating fast. And working while we eat.” Eleanor pushed her plate aside and opened her laptop. “I tried to do it at home, and it was… I just need some ideas.”
“Ideas?” Brittany peeled back the top of her cup and stirred her coffee with the little plastic stick. “Isn’t it just a matter of answering the questions?”
“Yes, but they aren’t true/false or multiple choice. I have to come up with answers that get me matched up with the right kind of guy.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Brittany said. “It’s not like you’re going down a list and picking the guy you like best. You have to fit their criteria, too.”
“Right. A computer will match me up with a man like myself—similar interests, for example—so I need to list the right kind of interests.”
“Huh.” Brittany stood up and dragged her chair around so she could see the computer screen. “Nice profile pic. You look professional, which seems appropriate, because this looks a lot like a job application. You said you’re a teacher?”
“Yes, I think that’ll work better than ‘take-off technician.’” Eleanor chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m even qualified to be called that, but I am qualified to teach. More than qualified. And Evergreen Services sounds like it might be some kind of educational service provider, right?” She clicked and scrolled. “Some of these questions are so open-ended! What is the most important thing you are looking for in another person? What do you notice first when meeting someone? I don’t know!”
“Like you said, it’s not true/false. Just put something generic in there. Kindness, a sense of humor, and honesty are important.”
“Oh, and reliability. I like that in a person.” Eleanor entered the response. “So, for the first thing I notice?”
“Eyes, smile, laugh.”
“Okay, and then this one.” Eleanor pointed at the screen. “What are you looking for in a relationship? So far, I have ‘an honest, sensible man with a stable job, between the ages of 27 and 39.’ Can you think of anything else I should add?”
She looked up hopefully and found the other girl staring at her.
“Eleanor, you sound like you’re ordering something from a menu. A medium-well burger with ketchup and pickle on a whole wheat bun with a side of fries.”
Eleanor frowned. “Don’t you think it’s best to be straightforward when you want something specific?”
“Maybe, but not for this. You’re looking for a relationship, not a hamburger.”
“I’m looking for a date,” Eleanor corrected. “I tried to think of someone in the Cities or here. The only people I know are my cousins, and I can’t ask them to take me.” She kicked the table leg. “Laurie keeps texting and calling me and sending me links. This thing sounds more like a wedding than an anniversary party. It’s bigger every time I talk to her, and she wants to tell me every single detail. And the way she talks… it’s almost like she knows I don’t have a date and is trying to make me admit it.”
“Would that be so bad?” Brittany asked.
“Yes. And this part—what do you think? I said I prefer a Protestant Christian. My parents don’t have a problem with other religions, but it would be easier if he’s Lutheran or Methodist or something.”
“How about you? Do you have a preference?”
Eleanor shrugged. “Well, if I was really looking for a husband, he’d have to be a Christian, of course, as long as he was in a normal denomination. I was here yesterday, and there were these really strange guys at the next table. They said God was married. I moved away so I wouldn’t get hit by lightning.”
“Seriously? God got married?” Brittany asked. “Wow.”
“They sounded serious. But then one of them laughed, so I didn’t know if they were just playing a joke on me or what.”
Brittany leaned forward. “Are you a Christian?”
“Yes, of course. I was practically raised in the church. I was baptized and did confirmation and the whole thing. I haven’t been in a while, but you don’t have to go to church to have a relationship with God.” She hoped she didn’t sound as defensive as she felt. Religion was on the list of things her mother said shouldn’t be discussed in polite conversation, along with politics and something else. Probably money.
“Well, no, but…” Brittany looked troubled. “It’s easier if you do, and you might meet some nice people there.”
“You said there weren’t any. I’m going to give this a shot. What do you think about divorced men?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to know more about him. But if you’re just looking for a date, it probably doesn’t matter.”
Was that sarcasm in her friend’s voice? She didn’t want to offend Brittany. She was the only person she’d met here, outside of her family, and they were all busy with their own lives.
“I’m not opposed to pursuing a relationship if we like each other. I guess I’ve been so focused on this stupid party that I can’t think that far ahead. I’ve got to get through this.” Eleanor rubbed her temple. “Anyhow, I said I’d prefer no kids.”
“Don’t you like kids?”
“Yeah, but they’d probably get sick on Valentine’s Day, just when I need him.”
At the other girl’s expression, she said, “I know… I know. I need to get this out of the way first. You should have been there, at Christmastime. Laurie was working on seating charts. She seems to think I’d feel left out if she didn’t share all the planning with me.”
“Because you’re the daughter and she’s just the daughter-in-law?” Brittany suggested.
“Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m perfectly happy to have her do it. It wouldn’t even have occurred to me to have a party. I’m a failure as a Nielson daughter, so I’m glad she’s there. She can keep my mother distracted with parties and grandchildren.”
“I’m sure you’re not a failure. You’re just different, and it may take them a while to realize that.”
Eleanor shook her head and pointed at the screen. “This is what I wrote for my
interests: Reading, music, theater, art museums, classical music concerts, and travel.”
“Seriously?” Brittany whooped with laughter. “How’s that working out for you here? The high school has a band and drama club, but otherwise we’re a little lacking in those things.”
“Well, I’m not limiting them to this area. I said to search within a 50-mile radius. That will include the cities, too. Here.” She turned the computer toward her friend. “Can you just proofread it for me, please? I really don’t want to turn it in with typos!”
If it was all computer-generated, it shouldn’t be taking so long. Eleanor refreshed her email page twice before closing the laptop. She wiggled her feet into her slippers and stood up, stretching, stiff after a day spent nestled in the overstuffed leather sofa. It had been a beautiful day, spent reading and watching the snow fall in big globby puffs. If all her winter days at the cabin were just like this one, she’d stay forever. She hadn’t felt so peaceful in… ever.
The familiar scraping of a snowplow broke the quiet of the midafternoon dusk. Even better. Eleanor didn’t really want to be snowed in. She opened the door, and a knee-high drift of snow fell on her feet. How had so much snow accumulated so quickly and quietly? Gary waved as he pushed a swath across the front—the back—of the house. Eleanor waved back, smiling. He was a good guy. She grabbed the stiff broom and swept the steps and walkway. The snow was heavier than she had expected, though, and fuzzy slippers were not an adequate substitute for boots. Her teeth were chattering by the time she finished the short path to the garage. She hurried back inside, stomping snow from her slippers before pulling them off. Maybe Uncle Gary would like some coffee. She looked out the window in time to see his tail lights vanish into the distance. He wasn’t even coming inside?
The happy feelings evaporated, leaving her cold, wet, and a little lonely. And it was dark already, before five o’clock, so she couldn’t even see the beautiful snow. What if it started snowing again overnight, and she really was snowed in? Dejected, she dropped onto the couch and covered herself with the fleece throw before pulling the computer onto her lap.
