Splitting Harriet

by Tamara Leigh

  Maddox starts fishing around the goblet. “I only hope the members of First Grace know how blessed they are to be served by men like them.”

  “I think most know, but there will always be those who need something different in their journey toward God.”

  He looks up. “That almost sounds like forgiveness, Harri.”

  Do not be offended. “Though it’s hard to forget, I have forgiven those who I felt betrayed me when I was young—”

  “I’m talking about forgiving yourself—accepting that what happened is in your past, accepting that its only reflection on your life today is its proof that you needed something different on your journey toward God.”

  I nearly challenge him but am struck by memories. Despite what I did and who I hurt, I was forgiven. Not only by my father and mother, but by most of the congregation. Of course, that didn’t extend to Tyler, who shrugged off my apologies as if they were little more than smoke.

  “Bad memories, huh?”

  I bring Maddox into focus and, before I can think better of it, nod. “Yeah.”

  “Of?”

  You don’t want to talk about this. So what if he shared the details of his personal rock bottom. That doesn’t mean you have to share yours. True, but I want to. “I was thinking of my brother. I can’t get right with him. But then, he did pay a pretty big price for my rebellion.”

  “What was that?”

  “The girl he wanted to marry.” Feeling my mouth tighten, a sure sign that tears could be in my future, I consider my miserable reflection in the silvery bowl of the spoon between my white-knuckled fingers. “She and I got along fine until I started getting into trouble.”

  Maddox’s hand touches the back of mine, then eases my fingers open and sets the spoon aside. “Go on.”

  “Her parents were very conservative and so had stuck with First Grace through the mass exodus, but they started drawing the line at my behavior, which they believed reflected not only on my parents but on Tyler.” I look up into Maddox’s eyes that are poring over my face. “My brother pleaded with me to consider what I was doing to our family.” I nod. “I did—for all of two seconds. A few nights later, I slipped out my window and was on my way to meet some friends when Tyler and his girlfriend drove past. He demanded that I get in the car. I refused. And that’s when his girlfriend got out, stuck a finger in my face, and said that I was ruining not only my life but everyone’s around me.” I draw a breath. “I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

  “What was that?”

  “I slapped her.”

  He doesn’t look shocked. Shouldn’t he look shocked?

  “Not just a tap on the cheek, Maddox. She nearly fell over.”

  His brow ripples. “I imagine that didn’t go over well with Tyler.”

  “No, which is why I ran. And didn’t come home for two days.” My nose tingles, eyes water. “By the time I slunk back home, they’d broken up, her family had withdrawn their church membership, and Tyler wasn’t talking to me.”

  “Then this has been hanging between the two of you for… ten years?”

  “Yeah, but that’s only the half of it.” Over the next ten minutes, I tell him of the night that Harriet and Pam walked into the bar and found me dirty dancing with Contestant Number One.

  At the end of the telling, Maddox clears his throat. “A broken nose and ribs. It’s a good thing a knife wasn’t involved.”

  “Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “At least, not of the literal variety.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was drunk and ashamed, and when Tyler got me to Harriet’s home and started in on how my actions had endangered Harriet and Pam, I got defensive. I told him I hadn’t asked for anyone’s help so I was hardly responsible for what could have and did happen—including his injuries.” Those tears that were in my future are now in my present, and I dash them away with the back of a hand. “Tyler looked at me with such loathing, then walked out. It took a month to get up the nerve to call him and apologize, but it was too late. He was so cold toward me.”

  Maddox lays a hand over mine on the table and smoothes my clenched fingers open. “You do know, Harri, that even if a person won’t forgive you, once you repent, you’re forgiven in God’s eyes?”

  “I know, but that hardly seems fair, especially to the people I’ve hurt. And then there’s always the possibility—”

  “That the old Harri is waiting for an opening to show her face again?”

  I consider his face—the sympathy etched in the lines of his brow and the depths of his eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “I do, though it certainly didn’t take me eight years to stop playing it safe and start enjoying life again.”

  My shoulders sink. “I’m a fraud—taking as few chances as possible for fear of proving my supporters wrong, religiously reading God’s promises but not trusting them to guide me.”

  Maddox chuckles. “You just need to apply what you know is the truth to how you live. And I have faith you can do it. After all, you’re having dinner with me.”

  I am. And I even shared his Berries with Cream… As we stare into each other’s eyes, my heart flutters. I’m falling for Maddox. Big time.

  “Your check, sir.” The server sets a little black book beside him. “I’ll take that when you’re ready.”

  “Miss?” Maddox says as she turns away. “What time does the dancing begin?”

  Dancing?!

  “In ten minutes, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Still very much aware of my hand beneath Maddox’s, I narrow my lids. “Dancing?”

  “Every Friday and Saturday night they bring a band into the bar.”

  Bar?!

  He raises his eyebrows. “Nice way to end an evening, hmm?”

  I pull my hand free of his. “I don’t dance anymore, and certainly not in a bar.”

  He recaptures my hand. “No biker bar. No drinks. No dirty dancing. Just a dance, Harri. Then we’ll call it a night. I’ll get on my motorcycle, you’ll get in your car, and we’ll return to our respective homes. The end.”

  Feeling as if I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, I study his face. No leering, no suggestive smile, just his question marked by raised eyebrows. Would one dance really hurt, you little fraud? “All right, but not a slow dance.”

  Twenty minutes later, I jump up from the table in the bar where he steered me after settling our check. “This one.” Then we can get out of here and I can put behind me the frisson of anticipation I felt while we watched the other couples move.

  Maddox leads me onto the dance floor. As expected, I feel awkward and self-conscious as we move to the upbeat music. Why did I agree to this?

  Catching my arm, he pulls me toward him. “It has been a while for you,” he murmurs as I stumble against him. “Just hold on.”

  But I don’t want to hold on. Well, actually I do. Which is why I don’t want to.

  “Let me lead, Harri.”

  The beat is fast, and it all comes back—how much I loved dancing. Add to that Maddox’s hand moving from my back to my waist, and his encouraging smile, and I could almost forget what can happen—and did. But then it’s over, and with the exception of Maddox’s hand on my arm as he leads me to our table, he keeps to himself. Not at all like past experiences.

  “How was that?” he asks as we near our chairs.

  “It was…” No, it was not “all right.” I peer sidelong at him. “I liked it.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.” Before I can sit, he picks up my purse and extends it.

  I stare at it. “What?”

  “Time to go.”

  I glance at the dance floor. “You don’t want to stay awhile longer?”

  “I do, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of breaking you in too fast.”

  “Oh.” Disappointed, though I shouldn’t be, I let him guide me from the restaurant to my car.

  “Thank you, Harri. I enjoyed it.”

  “Me too.”
/>
  “Except…”

  Oh no. Was I too enthusiastic? Did I cheapen myself? Show shades of bad Harri? Is this the real reason he didn’t want to stay? “What?”

  “Too much talk about First Grace.”

  Whew! “Sorry.”

  He steps nearer. “Next time, there will be no mention of work.”

  I shrug. “If there’s a next time.”

  He leans in and lightly kisses me. “I’m counting on it.”

  And so am I, I realize as he follows me back to the park on his motorcycle and I’m caught up in imaginings of being on that bike with him.

  Harri’s Log: • 2 days until Tyler returns for Doo-Dah (only a few bite marks—don’t think Doo-Dah will attempt another coup of Dumplin’s place on my bed)

  • 5 days until the next The Coroner rerun (Lisa canceled—has a date)

  • 9 days until Jelly Belly replenishment

  • 162 days until the completion of Bible #8

  Please mark your calendars for August 11, when we’ll kick off our transition to dual services with a picnic.” Blake shows off his big teeth and gums as a murmur of interest moves through the congregation. “First Grace will provide hot dogs and hamburgers and asks each family to bring a side dish or beverage. Additionally, we encourage you to invite friends and neighbors for what’s sure to be a good time.”

  A good time? I’m shot through with uncertainty as I recall last summer’s picnic. Friends and neighbors were invited, which was a blessing. Not such a blessing were the teenagers who showed up in baggy jeans, leather belts, and pocket chains. It was uncomfortable, and not just for the seniors. True, there had been no trouble, but a heightened sense of awareness hung over us, even if Pastor Paul didn’t seem put out. He’d spoken with the teens, joked with a couple, and moved about as if nothing had changed. But it had.

  “Relax, Harri,” a warm voice fills my ear.

  I look at Maddox, who slipped into the seat beside me as Blake began his announcements. “What?” But I know what. The man has no business reading me so well. And why did he have to sit by me? What if the others guess that we were out dancing last night?

  “The picnic’s a good thing, regardless of who shows up.”

  I return my gaze to Blake as he sets his fingers to the keys. “Now if you’ll join in a song of worship…”

  As Maddox and I stand, our hands at our sides touch, setting off memories of his kisses. Not until he nudges me do I realize I’m smiling like a lovesick pup. Flushing, I focus on the words on the projection screen. Thank goodness for that; otherwise I’d be fumbling through my hymnal—

  Hold up! Thank goodness for the projection screen?

  Scowling, I add my voice to those around me. The song is upbeat, and the band does it justice—evidence of their dedication. How nice that, after opening the service with two or three traditional hymns, Bea can sit back and—

  What is wrong with you, Harri?

  The next song is one I’ve heard, even if only in snippets as I sped through the radio dial. It’s not as upbeat as the first, but it’s moving.

  I nod. Yes, God is amazing. My eyes mist. Yes, I’m awestruck. My palms tingle. Yes, there are no words to describe all that He is.

  “Do it, Harri.” Maddox smiles down that long nose of his. “You know you want to.”

  “What?”

  “Raise your hands.” He nods at Oona, who thrusts her hands heavenward. “That’s what you want to do.”

  “I do not!”

  “You’re just too proud. Or afraid.”

  Even as I shoot a hand into the air, I realize I’ve taken the bait. Conservative Harriet Bisset has gone contemporary. But as much as I long to jerk my arm to my side, I once more join the others in praising our amazing God. And it’s then that I notice the sway in my hips. I’m turning into Oona! Or that other Harri…

  As another song starts, I remember that other Harri who had struck a bargain with her parents that were she allowed to attend contemporary services at a nearby church, she’d behave. My parents agreed, as my attitude was such that I was getting nothing out of attending First Grace. They had prayed it would be a good influence and that the experience would bring me back in line with God. It hadn’t.

  Because you didn’t want it to. It was an excuse to get away from First Grace. Yes, you sang and raised your hands and swayed, but you never let the words touch you. It wasn’t the music that led you astray, it was you and your hurt feelings.

  “Are you all right, Harri?”

  I blink at Maddox. “I was…” What? Acknowledging the unacknowledgeable? Accepting the unacceptable? It was me who was responsible for my rebellion. There were triggers, not the least of which was the disgruntled behavior of some church members, but I chose not to forgive as we’re called to do. Though I’m tempted to share my realization with Maddox, this is hardly the place. So I decide to let him read between the lines. “I was just thinking how much I like this music.”

  His eyebrows rebound. “You’re in good company.”

  True. It’s not only the younger members who are enjoying the contemporary music but the older ones—at least, most of them. The profiles of some of them reveal neutral expressions, and only one appears displeased. That would be Bea. Of course, Jack isn’t here, having gone fishing with his grandson.

  The final selection is “Amazing Grace,” but not the “Amazing Grace” I grew up with. The words are the same, but the beat is faster and the voice of the young lady who plays the keyboard rises above ours. But rather than sounding mournful, her voice is infused with joy.

  I look at Bea. No hand in the air, but her displeasure is no longer evident. In fact, with her head bowed and eyes closed, I’d say she’s a notch above neutral. Maybe this will work out. Maybe First Grace will be better for these changes.

  “You know, it’s probably not a good idea for you to sit beside me in service. As for walking me home, people might start to think—” I halt when it strikes me that Maddox is no longer at my side. He stands at the entrance to the park.

  “Harri, they already think it and probably know we’re seeing each other. You want to sneak around, rather than be honest about it?”

  “No, I—” What do I want? I don’t really know, only that I don’t want anyone thinking he and I are sharing more than an occasional kiss. And even that bothers me. “Whatever happened to ‘bad timing’?”

  He closes the distance between us. “Maybe it isn’t bad timing. Maybe it’s God’s timing, but we don’t recognize it because either we’re too caught up in the bad choices we made in the past or this isn’t the ideal situation we envisioned. But what if the situation is ideal for God?”

  As hope flickers in my breast, Maddox offers a hand. “If we’re going to see each other, I won’t sneak around as if I’m doing something wrong.”

  Does he really expect me to take his hand? To walk through the park looking like two people wrapped up in each other?

  “There’s no commandment against holding hands, Harri.”

  No, but there is a prayer that beseeches “lead us not into temptation.”

  He wiggles his fingers. “Only as far as the doorstep, and no kissing. I promise.”

  Though most residents usually head out for Sunday brunch following church, we’re still bound to be seen by someone—

  You’re just holding hands, you big baby! I slide mine into Maddox’s, and he gives a squeeze.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Not at all. In fact, the zzzzt! was pretty nice.

  “So, any plans for Friday?” Maddox asks as we resume our walk.

  “No. Lisa and I were going to get together again, but she canceled because of a date, so I guess I’ll be watching The Coroner alone—that’s my favorite show, you know.”

  “I didn’t know. I’ve never watched it, but I hear it’s good.”

  “More than good. It’s great!”

  “Meaning that if I asked you out on Friday, you’d turn me down?”

&nbs
p; Months ago, I would have, but now… I look up into dark eyes I once thought unremarkable. And just where did I get that notion? Long lashes aside, his eyes are remarkable. They’re not just brown, but different shades of brown that range from golden to dark to almost black.

  “Well?” His remarkable eyes sparkle. “Is it a date or not?”

  Right or wrong, I’d much rather go out with Maddox. And not only because I mastered the VCR. “It’s a date.”

  As I bask in the delicious tension between us, I hear the sound of voices approaching the park entrance and tug at my hand.

  Maddox halts. “What’s wrong?”

  “Harriet’s coming! And Pam.”

  “So?”

  “They’ll see us. And you’re holding my hand!”

  “I was under the impression you were holding my hand as well.”

  “Was!” Yank, yank.

  The teasing in his eyes clears out. “I told you I’m not going to sneak around.”

  “I know, but you have no idea how Pam can talk up something as innocent as handholding.” Slow, deep breath. “By the end of the day, it might very well be reported as kissing.”

  Maddox’s teeth tighten. “We have kissed.”

  “Yes, but not in broad daylight for everyone to see.”

  His nostrils flare. “Is it Stephano you’re worried about?”

  “I—”

  “Why, if it isn’t Harri and Maddox. And they’re holding hands, Harriet.”

  “They certainly are.” The amusement in Harriet’s voice makes the warble more pronounced.

  “Great!” I grunt, looking over my shoulder at where they’re staring at us from just inside the park entrance.

  Pam smiles wide, drawing attention to red lipstick that clashes with the green and purple striped jacket and skirt she wore to church. “Are we interrupting something?”

  “Only a difference of opinion,” Maddox says.

  “Oh?” Harriet glances from him to me.

  “Perhaps you ladies can help.”

  Pam hastens forward with solid strides, while Harriet follows at a more sedate pace on her matchstick legs.

  As Maddox turns me toward them, I rasp, “What do you think you’re doing?”