A Valentine's Wish

by Betsy St. Amant

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is romantic-comedy night, isn’t it?” Andy faked a groan as he collapsed against Lori’s couch pillows. “I’d blocked it out.” The truth was, he’d gladly sit with Lori and watch any movie she wanted. But he couldn’t let her know that or they’d be drowning in chick flicks. Carter would never forgive him.

  “That’s right. Last month was action. The month before that was foreign. And November was drama.” Lori popped a DVD into the player and grinned. “Get ready to cry.”

  “I don’t cry at chick movies.”

  Lori quirked an eyebrow.

  Andy cleared his throat. “That was one time. Even Carter teared up that night.”

  “Whatever.” Lori’s knowing grin made Andy’s shoulders relax. Despite the awkwardness of the past few days, their friendship seemed to be back to normal—at least for tonight. He’d decided not to ask Lori about her lunchtime rejection from Wednesday. So far they’d avoided all talk about the Chocolate Gator, which seemed to be the reason for the unofficial truce. He’d take normal with Lori over awkward any day, even if he did have to be careful what he said—and watch a chick flick.

  Andy moved a pillow aside as Lori sank onto the sofa, glad she was sitting only one cushion away instead of across the room in the armchair. Probably because this was the best spot for seeing the TV, but a guy could hope, right?

  “Whoops, forgot the popcorn.” Lori started to stand, but Andy hopped up first.

  “I’ll get it.” He grabbed the bowl from the counter, snagged a handful of napkins from the holder and set it on the coffee table in front of them. He sat back down, an inch closer than last time. Maybe if Lori forgot something else, he could eliminate that cushion distance between them once and for all. “Did you remember the chocolate?” He caught himself at Lori’s look. “I know, I know, stupid question.”

  Lori reached for a pink bag on the end table. “Of course I remembered it. I brought a mixture from the store. And I still have some leftover Hershey’s Kisses from my secret admirer.”

  Andy’s heart stilled, then restarted with a heavy thud. “Still no clue who this mystery guy is?” He really hoped his voice sounded more natural to Lori than it did to his own ears. He cleared his throat.

  Lori shrugged. “No, but I keep getting gifts.” She grinned. “I figure at some point he’ll get tired of spending money without credit for it.”

  “Probably.” Andy thought of his thinning wallet. Good point. But he’d go into debt before confronting Lori with the truth too soon.

  Lori aimed the remote at the DVD player and hit Play. “No crying, now.”

  Andy opened his mouth to argue, then shut it with a smile as Lori nestled against the cushions in her usual slumped position. They’d done movie nights with Carter and Gracie for coming on a year now, and each month it was always the same. Shoes off, legs tucked underneath her, head resting against the back of the couch. A few months ago, Lori had fallen asleep that way, and her head had drooped onto Andy’s shoulder.

  Maybe she’d be sleepy again tonight.

  The opening credits rolled on the TV, and Andy tried to keep his mind on the movie. He should pay attention in case Lori wanted to discuss the film afterward. He adjusted his position on the couch and tugged a pillow into his lap, trying to get comfortable. On the screen, a bride sang a quirky love song, surrounded by her gushing attendants. His eyebrow twitched.

  On second thought, it might be more productive to think about Lori, after all.

  If Andy sat any closer, he’d be in the popcorn bowl. Lori swallowed, her dry throat having nothing to do with the salty snack. During the course of the movie, Andy had edged closer and closer until Lori wondered if it might be on purpose. But why would he do that? They’d never sat this close before—so close she could smell the fresh scent of laundry detergent on his shirt and feel the brush of fabric from his long sleeves as he reached for more popcorn.

  Maybe she was just imagining his proximity because of her growing feelings. She’d never reacted this strongly to Andy’s presence, but then again, usually movie night included Carter and Gracie. Between Carter and Andy’s overly dramatic replaying of each scene, and Gracie’s laughing protests, there had never been a chance for awkward tension.

  The romantic comedy playing on the TV certainly didn’t help Lori’s raging emotions. If anything, it just made her want to cry. She could easily empathize with the redhead on the screen desperately trying to win her man, her best friend whom she’d never noticed until it was too late.

  Unfortunately, Lori had seen this movie before, and she knew the ending.

  She reached for another handful of popcorn at the same time Andy did, and their fingers brushed. An electric spark snapped, and Lori jerked, not sure if it was real or in her mind. Beside her, Andy edged away a few inches, and she knew he felt it, too.

  Felt it, and was putting distance between them.

  She sipped from her can of soda, hoping to wash down the lump of disappointment in her throat. Whom she was kidding? Andy probably just realized how far he’d slumped over. He hadn’t been close to her on purpose.

  A few minutes later, the movie ended, bittersweet but leaving hope for the main character. Lori stood and pushed the stop button on the remote control, feeling sadder than she should after one of her favorite flicks. Unsure what to say to break the post-movie silence, she turned to pick up the popcorn bowl—just as Andy threw up his arms in a stretch. The bowl went flying and landed upside down on the floor, scattering bits of buttered kernels and husks on the carpet.

  “My bad.” Andy leaned down from the couch to grab it just as Lori squatted to do the same. Their heads collided with a thump, the collision knocking Andy off balance. He rolled off the couch and landed beside her.

  “Are you okay?” they asked at the same time.

  “I’m fine.” Andy rubbed his forehead, then brushed his fingers against the sore spot on Lori’s head. His featherlight touch sent shivers skating down her spine. “Are you?”

  “Y-yes.” She thought so, anyway. What was the question again? Staring into his eyes, Lori’s frustrations about work and Andy’s spy status melted away like hot fudge, and she forgot to breathe.

  His touch gentled until he slowly slid his hand away from her face. They remained kneeling on the floor by the couch, side by side, eyes locked, not touching. But Lori felt his presence like a dozen close hugs. Was he going to kiss her? She leaned forward when Andy did, but after an achingly long moment, he sucked in his breath and stood.

  Lori felt the rejection to her core, and she fumbled to stand. Andy offered his hand to help, but the pain of tears pricking her eyes blended with the stabbing of her pride, and Lori struggled upright on her own.

  Andy swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He looked panicked, like he couldn’t wait to leave. And why should he stay? The movie was over, and so was any chance of something developing between them. First the rejection of him moving away on the couch, then Lori’s obvious misinterpretation of his actions. How stupid she must have looked, leaning in like that for nothing. Her chest burned under her sweatshirt, and she moved to eject the movie from the player before she embarrassed herself further.

  “Uh, Lori, I…”

  She widened her eyes to stop the tears threatening to pour and turned with a forced smile. “Want some chocolate to take home? I can grab a plastic baggie.” She headed for the kitchen.

  Andy stopped her with one arm, and she quickly turned in the other direction. “No, that’s okay. Lori, seriously, I—”

  “Wow, it’s getting late. That was a long movie.” Lori tapped her watch-free wrist, desperate to keep her voice natural. She couldn’t let him know how he’d affected her, or she’d never be able to talk to him again. She couldn’t lose their friendship, too. “I better get to bed. See you Sunday?” She ushered Andy toward the door, unsure how much longer she could keep the tears at bay.

  Andy opened the front door, and a gust of cool nigh
t wind stung Lori’s cheeks. She crossed her arms over her chest, around her heart, and waited, praying he’d leave without trying to explain his rejection.

  “See you Sunday.” Andy’s heavy tone hinted that he wanted to say more, but Lori kept her eyes averted and that fake smile tight against her face.

  “Have a good night.”

  Andy disappeared down the walk toward his car, and Lori shut the door with a snap. Eyes closed, she slid against the door to a sitting position, resting her head against the hard wood. She shouldn’t be surprised. Andy had never thought of her as anything more than a friend. But for that split second, kneeling beside him by the couch, surrounded by popcorn and pulsing hearts, her hopes had risen and whispered a possibility.

  A possibility that continued to remain hopelessly, helplessly, impossible.

  The organ music reached a closing crescendo, and Andy rose from the padded pew, tucking his Bible under his arm. Another Sunday come and gone, another lonely Sunday afternoon stretching long before him—and another Sunday of Lori not sitting with him at the service. Though after Friday night’s awkwardness, he wasn’t surprised Lori had chosen to sit elsewhere.

  He couldn’t believe he’d almost kissed her like that. How reckless could he be? Here he was trying to hide his identity as secret admirer, and he’d almost planted a big one on her at the first opportunity. She wasn’t ready for the truth about his feelings yet, especially not after her panicked reaction to that near kiss. He apparently still had a lot of work to do to show her he was the man for her.

  Andy turned to search the back rows of the church. Surely she was here somewhere. Wasn’t she supposed to bring a friend to meet him about volunteering with the youth group? He almost hoped Lori hadn’t made it, because then it wouldn’t mean she was avoiding him—it would just mean she’d slept in or didn’t feel good.

  He treaded dejectedly behind the slow gait of the elderly gentleman heading down the aisle. He hoped to take Lori and her friend to lunch to discuss the retreat, but it looked like he would be eating alone again today.

  “Andy! Andy, dear!” a voice warbled to his right. He turned to see Widow Spencer hobbling down the aisle toward him, pushing against the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream. Despite her frailty, she was making quick progress.

  He was trapped.

  Andy swallowed the automatic protest rising in his throat. Maybe she would say something other than how loud the youth service was every Wednesday. He braced himself for the attack as the widow moved to stand practically under his nose.

  “You were alone again this morning. I take it you’re still single?”

  “Nothing changed since last week, ma’am.” Andy forced his lips into a smile.

  “Wonderful! Then you’ll have no problem taking my great-granddaughter to dinner.”

  Not another one. First Pastor Mike, now the Widow Spencer. Apparently everyone in the church wanted him married off, ASAP. Andy mentally groaned but checked the sound before it could pop from his mouth. “I’m sure your great-granddaughter is lovely, Ms. Spencer. But I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

  He briefly closed his eyes, wishing he could afford to count to ten and ease away from his frustration before speaking. But that’d be too obvious to the woman. She’d been a member of the church forever—some said since the first service ever held—and was not someone he needed to offend.

  He’d have to settle for squeezing his words out through clenched teeth instead.

  “That’s not what I hear from the pastor.” Ms. Spencer’s watery eyes shimmered behind her glasses, and she wagged a bony finger in Andy’s face. “Eva is new to town. You two will really hit it off.”

  “But…”

  “Then it’s settled. Pick her up tomorrow night at six o’clock. Here’s her address.” She handed him a small sheet of paper.

  “Ms. Spencer, I—”

  “Don’t be late. And wear green. It brings out your eyes.” The elderly woman clutched her Bible to her chest and ambled away on her cane before Andy could speak another word.

  Great. A blind date with Eva—whoever she was. What kind of woman required her grandmother to set her up on a date, and with barely a day’s notice? Andy pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and blew out his breath. One, two, three…

  “Andy, there you are!”

  He opened his eyes in time to see Mr. Duvall, one of the deacons on staff, clap him on the shoulder. His firm grip lingered, and Andy awkwardly patted his back in return. “Good morning, Mr. Duvall.”

  “Excellent service, don’t you think?”

  “I agree.”

  “Especially the sermon.” Mr. Duvall leaned forward, his eyes squinty with meaning. “Husbands loving their wives, wives honoring their husbands.”

  Andy gulped and hoped the older man didn’t notice. “It was a good topic.”

  “Timely, eh?”

  Andy’s mouth opened, then shut. He was afraid to speak lest he lose it completely and run from the church with his arms thrown protectively over his head. He nodded instead.

  “I thought so.” Mr. Duvall laughed and slung his arm around Andy, shaking him slightly. “I thought so! I knew you had something up your sleeve.”

  “My sleeve? What?” Andy choked.

  Mr. Duvall released his hold and stepped back. “No use denying it, son. I heard every word Widow Spencer said. I know you’re going out with Eva tomorrow night. I knew you had your eye on someone!”

  Someone whom he’d never actually seen before. Andy couldn’t hold back the groan that burst from his lips. “Mr. Duvall, I really don’t—”

  “I was heading this way to ask about setting you up with my daughter.”

  Andy made a quick decision. One blind date was definitely more tolerable than two. “Right, well, too late, I suppose.”

  “Yes, too bad. But Eva’s a nice girl. You kids have fun.” Mr. Duvall winked before slipping back into the thick crowd still exiting the church building.

  The parishioners heading toward the double doors and talking amongst themselves about lunch plans suddenly made him paranoid. How many more were plotting love matches for him? Who else had a granddaughter or niece that needed a date? Andy wanted to run as fast as the plush green carpet under his feet would allow but had the sinking feeling that would just draw more attention to himself. If he was about ten years younger, he’d slip belly-down under the pew like he did back when he was a kid, playing hide-and-seek with his Sunday school friends. Except this time he didn’t want anyone to find him.

  “Andy?” A familiar voice rang across the emptying auditorium, and he turned.

  Okay, so maybe it was all right for one person to find him.

  “Lori!” He hoped his smile seemed welcoming but not too excited. The fact that she sought him out after Friday night’s incident said a lot. In fact, maybe—

  “Andy, this is Summer.”

  Oh, yeah. Lori had a reason for finding him. Andy fought to hide his drooping smile as he extended his hand toward Summer, a short blonde who didn’t look much older than his teenagers. “Nice to meet you.” He shook Summer’s hand. “I’m Bella’s nephew.”

  “I know.” Summer’s edgy appearance slipped away with her bright smile. “I’ve seen you at the Chocolate Gator.”

  She would have to bring up the store. Andy glanced at Lori, but her face revealed nothing. If she was still angry about his pop-in visits, her expression didn’t show it. Of course, after he’d nearly kissed her during movie night, Lori had more than just one reason to be angry with him. Andy tried to relax and keep his paranoia from his eyes as he turned his attention back to Summer. “So, how’d you like the service?”

  “It was good. Different than my church, but I really liked it.” She shrugged, and a teasing spark lit her eyes. “Lori said the youth services are more fun though.”

  His eyes darted back to Lori’s face, and she blushed. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

  “I won’t tell Pa
stor Mike, I promise.” Andy grinned before turning back to Summer. “It’d be great if you wanted to check out our youth service next time. We meet on Wednesday nights. That way you could get to know the kids before the retreat.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Summer glanced back and forth between Lori and Andy, then checked her watch. “Oh, wow, I just remembered I promised I’d meet my parents for lunch. I better run. Andy, you can take Lori home, right? I’m going in the opposite direction.” She began backing down the aisle.

  Andy nodded, heart thumping at the implications of the sudden change in plans. “Sure—”

  “Summer, wait!” Lori started after her, but the younger girl just waved and merged into the dissipating crowd moving toward the doors.

  “What was that about?” Andy tried to laugh, but it sounded fake even to his own ears. He knew a matchmaking attempt when he saw one. Unfortunately, after Friday night, Summer’s timing couldn’t have been worse.

  “I have no idea.” Lori stared after Summer, and her eyes narrowed as if she might have a clue after all. “But I will definitely find out.”

  “I’m happy to take you home.” Andy wasn’t sure what Summer was up to, but he’d take it. “Want some lunch first?”

  Lori let out a frustrated sigh. “I guess so.”

  Andy stacked Lori’s Bible on top of his and then motioned toward the back doors. “I’m parked this way.” It wasn’t exactly a yippee, but, again, he’d take it.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I saw the Widow Spencer corner you after church.” Lori smirked before biting into a French fry. “Was she complaining about the noise in the gym on Wednesday nights again?”

  “Thankfully, no.” Andy leaned back against the hard plastic booth and shoved his empty wrapper away from him on the table.

  “That’s good.” Lori swabbed another fry through her ketchup, trying to relax her tense shoulders. She’d definitely have to pay Summer back for this little matchmaking attempt of hers. So far, though, there’d been no talk about the disastrous movie night, and if Andy wasn’t going to bring it up, she certainly wasn’t going to, either. Maybe if they pretended nothing happened—rather, almost happened—their friendship could stay normal. “The widow is a sweet lady, but she goes on and on. Last time she caught me in the hall, I was late for the service.”