What Dreams May Lie

by Alana Terry

  The voice made her jump. She whipped her head around, nearly banging her shoulder on the barn door.

  “Here. Let me help.” Ricky held his empty hand out toward the goat and made the same sort of tsk tsk tsk you’d use to call a cat. Surprisingly enough, Peaches let him get close enough to grab her by the bright collar clasped around her neck. “You naughty little thing,” Ricky crooned to her. “Don’t you know it’s time for bed?”

  He held the opening just wide enough for Peaches to pass through and gave her a few friendly pats on the rump before closing the barn door and latching it shut.

  “Thanks.” Jillian was so tired from the entire ordeal of getting the animals to bed that she didn’t have the energy to say anything else.

  “It’s no problem. Peaches and I go way back. I actually helped deliver her.”

  Jillian was certain that somewhere behind the words was at least a partially interesting story, but her back was aching, her stomach still grumbling after that heavy clam chowder for dinner, and her whole body was exhausted. If there was a tale, she’d listen to it some other time.

  “It happened when I was out here helping Dennis with the milking because Connie was out of town at the women’s retreat, and ...”

  “Did you find your shirt?” Jillian interrupted.

  “My what?”

  “Your shirt. Isn’t that what you came here for?”

  “Oh. That.” He looked around as if his flannel might magically appear. “I was by here already. I came at three. Didn’t I tell you that?” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I came by and picked it up after I took my mom out for lunch. Didn’t you see me? I waved.”

  When would she have seen him? “I was in my room all afternoon.”

  “I know. I saw you in the window. You were staring right at me, and I waved and held up my shirt so you’d know I got it.”

  She shrugged.

  “You didn’t see me?”

  “Guess not.” Or if she had, he’d been so nondescript she hadn’t paid him any attention and had already forgotten the exchange.

  “Well, I got my shirt earlier. At three, like I said.”

  “So what are you doing here now?”

  “I just came because Connie wanted to borrow some brewer’s yeast, except my mom’s not feeling too well. She’s got this thing going on in her hip. Sciatic nerve pain. Makes it hard for her to get up and down, so I told her I’d drive it over. That’s what I do for a living, you know. I’m a driver for my dad’s courier business.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “Thanks. It’s a pretty good job.”

  “I bet.” Could he tell she was done with this conversation? In fact, she’d been done as soon as he got Peaches inside for her. “Thanks for helping with the goats,” she said, hoping he’d take that as his cue to leave.

  Unfortunately, he stayed exactly where he was. “Oh, don’t mention it. Peaches can be stubborn, but she’s such a sweet little thing once you get to know her.”

  I’ll bet she is, Jillian thought.

  “Well, I guess I better go.” He sounded so disappointed. As if they’d been having some kind of great heart to heart.

  “All right. See you later.”

  “Yeah.” He shifted from one foot to the other again, scratched his cheek and next his chin, and then turned around.

  Jillian sighed and started back to the house. She’d only been in Orchard Grove for the weekend, and she already regretted she ever came.

  CHAPTER 17

  RICKY WALKED SLOWLY back to the car. Something had been nagging him since he saw Jillian outside struggling with that barn door.

  She was lonely. And who could blame her? After all her family had gone through when her dad was the pastor here, why would she want to come back?

  He’d heard his mom on the phone with several of her friends from the Women’s Missionary League this afternoon. Everyone was speculating on what might have compelled that McAllister girl to return to Orchard Grove. The public explanation was she’d come to help take care of her grandmother, but other than a short hospital stay last December, Grandma Lucy was in perfectly fine health.

  So the rest was a whole lot of conjecture that would have made Ricky embarrassed for Jillian even if they’d never met before.

  He glanced back at Jillian, who was making her way to the house. She didn’t seem to remember too much about him, but he remembered her. She and her brother were always well-dressed and well-behaved. He heard it so often from Mom, he could never forget. Why can’t you sit still in church? You don’t see Pastor Joel’s son bouncing his leg up and down, do you?

  Or your teacher told me that Jillian’s the only one who prays out loud in Sunday school. Why don’t you ever volunteer? A godly and righteous boy should be willing to pray whenever the teacher needs somebody.

  Back then, he figured Jillian and her brother were as stuck-up and uninteresting as his mother made them out to be. But things changed after her dad got kicked out from behind the pulpit. Last he heard, Jillian’s brother was in rehab with some sort of a drug problem, and Jillian was no longer the soft-spoken, demure little thing she’d been as a girl with her curly hair and poofy dresses.

  What happened to her?

  He couldn’t blame her if she was mad at Orchard Grove for the way they’d treated her family. Even though his mom didn’t tell him the full extent of Pastor Joel’s indiscretions, he understood even as a kid that the McAllister family devolved from being a model of righteous, godly living to spiritual outcasts. The change happened overnight. Mom wouldn’t explain the details, but she made it clear he wasn’t supposed to speak to either of the McAllister kids again. Ever.

  He shook his head. He’d been growing tired of his mother’s constant henpecking for quite a while now, but he’d put up with it because deep in his heart, he really did like the sound of being a righteous and godly man. But something had changed in him, not just after the church service when he prayed with Grandma Lucy but after his lunch with Mom afterwards.

  What kind of mother chides her son for pursuing a relationship with God? What kind of woman emphasizes righteous and godly appearances over actual obedience or an intimate knowledge of the Lord?

  While he’d been praying with Grandma Lucy, he’d surrendered himself to God’s will. Told the Lord he’d do anything he wanted him to. Head to the mission field, become a pastor — wherever God led him, he was prepared to follow. He had no idea at the time that God would ask him to live with his mother’s pointed disapproval. In retrospect, moving to Africa and starting up a Christian orphanage or preaching to heathens in the Amazon jungle felt like easier callings.

  But he could do it. Even over lunch, he was surprised at the fearlessness he felt. Strange as it might sound, today might have been the first time he realized his mother had just as many faults as anyone else, which was saying a lot, given how she set herself up to be the epitome of that righteous and godly lifestyle she so vehemently preached.

  I don’t have to be afraid of disappointing her. She’s just a person. It was a realization he should have come to years ago. He’d never considered himself a strong or brave or bold man. In fact, his mother had taught him from the earliest age that a righteous and godly boy would never think of talking back or second guessing his parents.

  But he was an adult now, and it was time for him to take control of his own life and his own destiny, whether or not Mom approved of his decisions. Maybe she’d tease him for wanting to grow in his faith. Maybe she’d get jealous if he put his walk with God before his relationship with her, but he wasn’t accountable to her anymore.

  He didn’t have to be the kind of Christian she was. The kind who would shun a friend whose husband made a mistake. The kind who would spread hurtful gossip guised as prayer requests about a girl like Jillian.

  He wasn’t going to be that kind of believer. And if Mom didn’t like it, that was her problem and not his.

  The idea was as novel as it was
freeing.

  He didn’t have to be afraid of disappointing anyone but God.

  Halfway to his car, he spun around on his heels. “Jillian! Jillian! Wait!”

  He was sprinting now. He had to hurry if he wanted to catch her before she disappeared into the house.

  He tripped once but regained his balance before nearly plowing into her on the porch.

  “What is it?”

  He could tell by her tone she wasn’t happy he’d come back.

  That was okay, too.

  Jillian was like him. She’d been hurt by the same set of unyielding, unforgiving rules that listed out a thousand different ways to be righteous and godly, none of which had anything to do with a real and personal relationship with the Lord.

  If he could make her see things the way he did now, maybe it could break through that hardened, angry exterior.

  It was worth a try.

  “What do you want?” she demanded again.

  He started to stammer but reminded himself he was a new man. The kind of man who wasn’t afraid to do the right thing. To extend his friendship to Jillian, who might not find another compassionate soul in this entire town.

  “I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he’d made a mistake. He didn’t want her to think this was a date. “Not like, you know, I’m not asking you for that or anything. I just ... I was only thinking ... Maybe we could eat something ...”

  Eat something? What was he talking about?

  “I’m pretty busy this week, but thanks.”

  She turned around, and before Ricky could recover his breath from running so hard and fumbling so pathetically over his words, she was inside the house, and he was staring at the shut door.

  CHAPTER 18

  HE COULDN’T BELIEVE it. How could he be so awkward? The fact that Jillian turned him down wasn’t as embarrassing as the realization that she thought he’d been asking her out on a date to begin with. It was nothing like that. Not even close. To think that she would go on believing he was interested in her romantically was even more humiliating than getting rejected in the first place.

  He was so distraught he wasn’t even in the mood to listen to the oldies station in the car. He had to find a way to make it right, to explain himself better. But how?

  Hey there, Jillian. Remember that night when you thought I was asking you out on a date, and you slammed the door in my face? Really, I just wanted to spend a little time with you because out of everybody here in Orchard Grove, I thought that maybe you were lonely enough that you needed a friend. So I felt sorry for you and that’s why I offered to spend some time together.

  It would never work.

  The drive back from Safe Anchorage Farm to his family’s house on the Heights gave him time to calm down a little bit. At least he’d tried. He needed to be careful. This new religious excitement of his would keep on getting him in trouble if he didn’t learn how to tone it down every now and then.

  Even though he’d had an unforgettable experience today at church, he was still the same old Ricky Fields — clumsy, awkward, more afraid to stand up for himself than not, and woefully unable to communicate clearly with members of the opposite gender, which is what caused him so much trouble with Jillian in the first place.

  He didn’t even want to imagine how pathetic she must think he was.

  Oh, well. There wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  He pulled into his family’s cul-de-sac. His mom had been giddy with excitement when they finally had enough money to move to Orchard Grove Heights. Ricky still couldn’t see what the big deal was. It took longer to get here than anywhere else in town, and the hillside was infamously icy in the winter. But his mom’s version of a righteous and godly husband was someone who could afford the mortgage on a place like this, and his dad had finally delivered.

  Tomorrow Ricky would start a regular work week driving for his dad’s company, so he might as well head to bed early and let his wounded ego recover.

  If he was lucky, Mom would be on the phone or in the bedroom, watching one of those sappy romances she loved so much.

  He opened the door and stepped into the house.

  He was not lucky.

  “Ricky, your father and I want to talk to you.”

  It was rare to see the two of them voluntarily in the same room unless it was a holiday or they were entertaining work colleagues. Ricky was instantly on the defensive. “If this is about church ...”

  His mother let out a forced laugh. “It has nothing to do with today, son. Sit down. We want to talk to you.”

  What choice did he have? He pulled out a chair, bumping his elbow on the table and nearly smashing his foot under one of the legs before he managed to sit down and face his parents.

  Mom primped her hair. “We know you haven’t had too much luck in the dating world, and so your father and I have decided it’s time to help you out a little bit.”

  Immediately Ricky wished for a dozen lectures about the way he’d stood up today and walked down the aisle. Anything would be better than this.

  He glanced at his father, whose gaze was focused on a pile of magazines on the coffee table between them.

  “I know you’re a shy boy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find a nice, godly girl to date. But seeing as how you’d never find the courage to ask the right one out if you met her, your father and I decided it was time for us to be a little bit more proactive on your behalf.”

  Proactive? He felt almost as nervous as he had three years ago when he sat in the doctor’s office with his mom to find out the results of her cancer screening.

  “One of the problems, aside from your being so shy like we’ve already said, is that Orchard Grove is an aging community. We figured that if we wanted to broaden your chances of meeting the right girl, we’d have to look at some outside sources.”

  Ricky’s leg was bouncing so fast his mom finally picked up one of the magazines on the coffee table and slapped him with it.

  “Stop fidgeting like that. It isn’t godly to be so nervous. Now listen. We set you up with a profile on that Soulmates website, and there’s a very nice young woman who’s going to meet you Tuesday night at the Olive Garden in Wenatchee.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll show you all the messages so you can get a feel for what she already knows about you. I think you’re really going to like her. Her name is Carly, and she’s got strawberry blonde hair and a cute little dimple and she ...”

  “And she’s willing to date me after exchanging emails with my mother?”

  Mom waved her hand in the air. “She didn’t know it was me. She thinks she’s been talking to you.”

  Ricky stood up. This was ridiculous. “It’s one thing to meddle, but it’s even worse to pretend to be someone else and risk hurting an innocent stranger.”

  Mom reached out for his hand. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” She smacked Dad in the side, and he looked up from his magazine.

  “What?”

  “Tell your son that he’s overreacting. Mothers like me have been setting their little boys up for centuries. Tell him.”

  Dad shrugged and mumbled, “It does seem a little weird if you ask me.”

  “What do you know anyway?” Mom huffed. She shook her head, straightened her spine, and stared at Ricky. “Now be a good boy and go upstairs. I emailed you your login information and everything else so you can learn all about Carly. I found a real winner, you know. You’re really going to like her.”

  He didn’t stick around to argue anymore. At least if he were able to communicate directly with this Carly girl, he could explain to her that it was all just one big mistake and move on with his life.

  Without trusting his voice to say another word, he went upstairs to his room and turned on his computer.

  CHAPTER 19

  JILLIAN LAUGHED EVERY time she thought about it. That gangly, awkward farm boy actually had a cr
ush on her?

  Orchard Grove was admittedly a small town, but surely somewhere was a girl better suited for someone like Ricky — most likely a shy, awkward, homely type.

  It was so humorous that she wasn’t even insulted by him thinking he might actually stand a chance with her.

  All the goats were put away in the barn. Grandma Lucy was asleep while Connie and Dennis had retired early to their bedroom, Jillian found herself alone for nearly the first time since she arrived in Orchard Grove.

  She pulled out her phone to check for any messages, trying to come up with a few clever adages that would describe just how ridiculous it was to be trapped in a backwards town like this.

  She refreshed her phone twice. No notifications from anybody?

  She let out a sigh. Well, that’s life for you.

  What she needed was a new crowd. Not like that Ricky boy with his clumsy ways and awkward words. Where did young people go to have fun all the way out here? Maybe Wenatchee? It was the only nearby city she could think of with more than a few thousand people. She typed it into her browser.

  Meet singles in Wenatchee. The pop up with the photo of laughing, smiling friends — the kind of friends she left behind in Seattle — caught her eye. Free fourteen-day trial.

  She shrugged. She’d never tried Internet dating in Seattle because her social calendar was always full. She entered in the login information to start a new account then browsed through the selfies on her phone until she found a suitable profile picture.

  An error screen popped up. Profile pictures for paid users only. Click here to upgrade.

  Great. Her wallet was somewhere, but she didn’t feel like digging it out. For now, she’d just rely on their stupid little cartoon avatar and upgrade later.

  The app took her through a few preliminary questions, and in five minutes she had created her personal page.

  CHAPTER 20

  RICKY COULDN’T BELIEVE that he had to drive all the way out to Wenatchee just to tell some girl he’d never met that the man she agreed to date turned out to be a middle-aged meddling mother.