Never the Bride

  I pull the toothbrush out of my mouth. “Yeah, sure. Fine. Hi to Pastor Lan—wait a minute. He has a son, doesn’t he? My age, right?” I smile at the mirror. “Did his son grow into a hottie? Still single?”

  God calls out, “See you there. And don’t forget Brooklyn.”

  “I just can’t believe you’re being this mean!” Brooklyn’s wearing a dress, but it’s got a length problem. It would barely pass at a bar.

  I put on my blinker and turn toward the church. “I’m not trying to be mean, Sis. We need to go. Mom and Dad went and they took us. Don’t you remember that?”

  Brooklyn presses her cheek up against the glass. “All I remember is that I worked my butt off this week and I just want to sleep in.”

  “You can take a nap this afternoon. Until then, I need you to take this seriously. We need a lot of help from upstairs.” I smile. “Plus, I hear it’s a great place to meet guys.”

  “Ugh. That doesn’t sound fun. Really, it doesn’t.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, guys that get up on Sunday morning and go to church are at the very least responsible.”

  “Whatever. We’ve never liked the same kind of guy anyway.” She slouches in the passenger seat.

  I pull into the church parking lot. It is packed with cars, but I see a sign: Visitor Parking. Perfect. I pull in and open the car door.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  We both get out of the car. Brooklyn, irritated as she stuffs her compact into her sequined silver bag that moonlights as a disco ball, trails behind me. “You’re shocking my system. This is a lot of change. I mean, I’m happy you quit your job and everything, but you’re kind of dragging me into your nightmare.”

  “Trust me. You don’t know the half of it.” I gaze up at the church, bright white and beautiful. Amazing what a little sunshine can do. I glance at Brooklyn. “Now shut up and try to look a little less immature.”

  “You can’t say ‘shut up’ in church.”

  I’m about to smack her with my denim purse when a deacon opens the door for us. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling pleasantly as I take a bulletin with a dove on it. I stop in the foyer, and Brooklyn comes up beside me.

  “Wonder if you’re famous.”

  I smile and nod at strangers as I whisper, “Shut up!” to my sister.

  “You’re going to make God mad with that foul mouth of yours.”

  “Nobody’s going to recognize—”

  “Jessie Stone!”

  We both whip around. There is Pastor Landry arms open wide. He is wearing his black pastor’s robe and a look of delight. “Pastor Landry,” I say quietly. “Hello.”

  He reaches in for a hug. I pat him lightly on the back. “I haven’t seen you since the funeral.” He steps back and looks me up and down.

  “I know. I’m sorry. And sorry about the other night too.”

  “No need to explain,” he smiles.

  Thank God. Literally.

  “And who is this?” he asks, holding out a hand to Brooklyn.

  “My sister, Brooklyn.”

  “Brooklyn! My goodness, sweetheart, you’re a grown woman now! It’s hard to believe so much time has passed.”

  Suddenly, a man appears next to the pastor. He attempts a smile three times before it finally pops through. His cheeks flush right there in front of us like he’s just done vodka shots. He keeps trying to make eye contact but doesn’t manage to. Now he’s staring at Brooklyn’s rhinestone stilettos.

  “Do you remember my son, Gavin?”

  “Hi, Gavin. How are you?” I say.

  “Yes,” he answers.

  “Oh, uh, good.” I look back at Pastor Landry who is grinning enough for both of them. “Gavin here is in charge of marketing at the church.”

  “Marketing? For a church?”

  Gavin nods. “Yes. We put up billboards, send out postcards, and actually walk neighborhoods to invite people to come.”

  “Seems to be working. Looks like you’ve got a full house.”

  Pastor Landry takes my hand. “Jessie, anytime you want in, no problem.”

  Gavin finally makes eye contact with me. “I’ll unlock your door…I mean, our door…for you anytime.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Between the heat off Gavin’s and my cheeks, we might be creating nuclear energy. “Obviously, I should’ve called first. I just didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

  “You’re not disturbed…I mean, you wouldn’t be. Disturbing, I mean. Us.” Gavin is back to staring at Brooklyn’s shoes.

  I rub my hands together. “Right. Okay. Well, I guess I should let you go. Sounds like church is about to begin.”

  “Would you two like to be my special guests today?” Pastor Landry is wide eyed with anticipation. “I always reserve two extra seats, right on the front row, for special guests. You could sit with Gavin here and—”

  Brooklyn steps forward. “Oh, that is so kind. But unfortunately Jessie has one of those overactive bladders, so we have to sit near the back, you know, just case she needs to bolt.”

  I really want to slap her, but then again, I really don’t want to sit on the front row either.

  “Of course,” Pastor Landry says. “I understand. You won’t believe what an enlarged prostate will do. Well, it was good to see you.” And off he goes.

  Gavin leans toward me before he walks off. “You know, they have a pill for that problem.” He smiles like he’s just given me insider trading information. And he’s gone.

  I punch Brooklyn in the arm. “What did you do that for?”

  “You’re telling me you want to sit on the front row with Mr. Awkward?”

  “No, I do not.” I cross my arms. “But why’d you make up the bladder thing about me?”

  “Jess, there is no way they’d believe I was old enough to have an overactive bladder. Now come on, let’s get in there before all the back rows are taken.”

  Aggravated, I follow her in, and we manage to find an outside spot at the back. I cross my arms and stare forward.

  “What? You’re mad at me?” Brooklyn asks. “I just saved you.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “I appreciate it, though maybe next time we can leave my organs out of it.”

  “It just came to me. Sorry.”

  “I guess I thought maybe Gavin might be…you know…maybe he was going to be…”

  “Hotter?”

  “Yeah. He was a really cute twelve-year-old.”

  “He’s not bad. I mean, his nerves could use some nicotine or something, but he’s probably not allowed, you know?”

  The music starts and we stand. I grab a hymnal for us. I don’t sing, mostly because I sound like a dying animal, but it’s good to hear the words. They bring me comfort, and I remember them from when Mom and Dad used to bring us here. The crowd is diverse. Many sing—some like they mean it, others because that’s what you’re supposed to do, I guess. I look for Him. Surely He’s got to be around here, somewhere.

  The music ends and Pastor Landry comes to the podium to speak. A chill runs down my spine as I flash back to the night when breaking into a church made sense. I look at my sister, who is studying her cuticles. Maybe a lot has made sense to her over these years. Maybe wading through one relationship after another made some strange sense to her.

  I tune in to Pastor Landry as the congregation laughs at some funny story he’s told that I missed. I command myself to pay attention.

  “If you have been waiting for God to do something for you, maybe you feel He’s made you a promise, I can almost guarantee the next thing that happens will seem like the exact opposite. It’s a test of your faith. Will you trust Him while you wait?”

  And then I spot Him, standing behind Pastor Landry, and I swear He winks at me. I close my eyes. A test of my faith? What faith? The only thing I’ve had faith in my whole life was that true love exists and romance is still alive. I mean, test Moses. Test Billy Graham. But why test a nobody like Jessie Stone?

/>   I sit through the rest of the sermon contemplating this. Soon enough it is over, and Brooklyn and I are filing out with the rest of the people. As we head down the steps outside the front of the church, Pastor Landry shakes my hand again. “Come back, please. It was so good to see you.”

  “Thank you, Pastor. Your sermon was very…inspired.”

  Gavin springs toward us. “Jessie, again, let me know if you need to break in…I mean, give me a call…about getting in.”

  I manage a smile. That poor boy flushes more than a toilet.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Gavin. And good luck with marketing and getting people to come—” I stop. “Brooklyn! I just got an idea!”

  eleven

  Brooklyn and I stand in front of the jewelry store’s large window. Precious stones gleam and glitter in the afternoon sun. Brooklyn is drawn to the four-carat dazzler surrounded by alarm-triggering lasers and a four-inch box of glass. “Look at this!” she gasps. “It’s platinum! I love platinum. That diamond is extraordinary.”

  “Uh-huh.” My expectations, I guess, are a little lower because I’m staring at the dainty gold ring with a tiny diamond on top, barely visible to the human eye. But I like it. Simple. Beautiful. I don’t want a guy going into debt to buy me a ring. Doesn’t anyone realize that once you marry the fool, you’ll be paying for your own ring? I mean, maybe I’m a traditionalist, but there seems to be something wrong with that scenario.

  We’re at the jewelry store because although Gavin didn’t end up being a candidate for my love story, he did give me a fabulous idea for boosting our business. Instead of waiting for clients to come to us, we go to them, even before they know they’re in desperate need of our services.

  I nudge Brooklyn out of her trance. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “All right, fine. What’s the plan?”

  “Well, I don’t think we should stand out here. It may leave the impression we’re staking out the joint.”

  Brooklyn shoots me an evil grin. “You are on the most-wanted list now.”

  “I say we go in there, act casual, just—”

  At the same time we notice a young man walk past us and into the store.

  “He’s got the vibe,” Brooklyn whispers. “Young, nervous, hoping he can afford what he wants to give her.”

  “I agree. He’s not here to buy a watch. Come on, let’s go in.”

  We enter and separate to opposite sides of the store. The guy looks midtwenties, with honey blond hair, a nice physique, and plenty of dressing style. An older, chic-looking woman in a black suit is helping him. I try to inch my way closer so I can at least hear the conversation when I am stopped by outstanding customer service.

  “Hello! May I help you?”

  I look up. Hello, gorgeous. Wow. Bright blue eyes sparkle against the mood lighting of the showcases. His engaging smile causes my heart a little hiccup. I can’t decide how old he is. There’s a maturity in his face, but not a wrinkle on his skin.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I’m looking for…” I glance down and realize I’m in front of a huge case of engagement rings. “A ring.”

  “Maybe getting an idea of what you like?”

  Okay, now, how to play this? “Yes” means I’m not available. “No” means I have to come up with something about earrings, which are on the other side of the store, far away from Soon to Be Groom.

  “Well, it never hurts to look, right?”

  “Never.” He pulls out a tray. “I like this ring. It’s extremely romantic.” I’m not kidding, he actually takes my hand. “Hmm. A size-five ring, perhaps?” Yes. Right on the mark. He takes the ring and slides it right onto my hand. A warm sensation crawls up my neck, and I stare forward—because if I don’t, I swear my eyelashes will start batting.

  “It fits perfectly.” I hold out my hand and admire it.

  “You have lovely hands. Any ring would look spectacular.”

  Yes, folks, I know he’s paid to do this sort of thing, but it doesn’t mean it’s not fun. I hold the ring up, pretending to be thoughtfully admiring it, but in reality I’m wondering if this is the chance encounter I’ve been waiting for. I glance around for God or my purple pen or some sign that gives my eyelashes the green light to go for it.

  Nothing.

  “Let me show you this one, that’s set with—”

  “What are you doing?” It’s Brooklyn.

  I yank my hand away. “Uh…”

  “Brooklyn?” my new love says. I look up to see the handsome man’s face registering something as he looks at my sister.

  “Oh my gawwshh!” Brooklyn gasps. “Jimmy?”

  “Yeah! Oh my gosh! How long has it been?”

  “Oh my gosh, I have no idea. Three years?”

  “Like five!”

  “Shut up!”

  “Seriously, oh my gosh!”

  Oh brother. I quickly slide the ring off. How this guy went from suave salesman to Valley boy I have no idea, but I step aside to let these two exclaim the English language to death while I try to focus on the real reason we’re here.

  I move over a couple of cases, within earshot of our target, and pretend to be studying cufflinks as I eavesdrop.

  “What about this one?” the saleswoman asks.

  “Hmm. I don’t know. How much is this?” He’s chewing a fingernail.

  “Three thousand.”

  “Oh. What about this one?”

  “Lovely choice. Look at the diamonds that encircle the band. And see how the—”

  “How much is it?”

  “Four thousand, five hundred.”

  “Oh.”

  Poor guy.

  “I bet she’s worth every penny,” says the saleswoman.

  Now that’s just wrong. Obviously the guy’s on a budget. Now if he goes practical, maybe he’s giving the impression she’s not worth it. Terrible!

  “We have financing, no interest for ninety days.”

  Oh, um…”

  “You’re already preapproved.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes sir.” The saleswoman gestures to the ring sitting on the counter. “She’ll never forget the moment you give this to her.”

  He sighs and runs his hands through his hair over and over and over.

  The saleswoman smiles. “I’ll just go get the paperwork?”

  “Um, okay. Yeah. I think that would be…she’ll really like this.”

  “Honey when she shows her friends what you bought her, you’ll be the only star in her everlasting sky.”

  I think I actually snort out loud here. The saleswoman eyes me, then locks up the case before disappearing to an office. I glance at the guy. He’s grown pale and looks like he’s checking his bank account via cell phone.

  Brooklyn’s still catching up with Jimmy, so I slide up next to the guy. He’s kind of breathing hard.

  “Hi.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Jessie Stone.”

  He looks confused. “Oh, um. Do I know you?”

  “No.” I hand him a business card. “But you look like you might need some help.”

  He reads the card. “You help guys set up the perfect proposal?”

  “Here’s the deal. You could spend five grand on a ring, or spend far less on that ring and propose to her in a way that will make her completely forget about the ring altogether.” I lean in and talk softly, as if I’m sharing a deep dark secret. “The truth is that women want to feel special, and money just can’t get you all the way there. Big ring? So what? Lots of guys can do that. But a proposal that takes her breath away—that’s what will make her know that what you feel for her is real.”

  He stares at me for a moment, then glances down to all the rings. “You know, I really was looking at this one.” He points to a single solitaire, small but exquisite. “It just looks like her.”

  I nod approvingly. “What’s your name?”

  “Daniel.”

  “My number is on there. Call me, and we’ll help you give her something to remember
for the rest of her life.”

  A relieved smile is accompanied by a handshake. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will.”

  The saleswoman returns with a mound of paperwork in her arms. “All right, Mr. Taylor, let’s get started here with—”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he says as I slide back to the cufflinks.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want this one.”

  “The…the…single solitaire?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…um…I thought you said she’d love the one with the—”

  “I think you said that.”

  I’m beaming with pride as I hear him explain he’ll be writing a check. I find Brooklyn, who is still chatting it up with Jimmy.

  “Oh, hey, Sis. This is an old friend of mine. Jimmy.”

  I smile. “Hi, Jimmy.” Grabbing Brooklyn’s arm I whisper, “Let’s go. I snagged a customer.”

  “Can you guys get me into a basketball game?” Daniel pretends to dribble and then takes a jump shot with a flier he’s taken off the counter and wadded up. “Score!”

  “Why?” Brooklyn asks, flipping a bunny ear out of her face. She’s just come in for a fifteen-minute break. She really does look adorable.

  “You know, so I can jump on the court during halftime and propose.” He holds up a finger. “Oooh! Maybe I could even dunk one!” He flies straight up and dunks the air.

  Brooklyn and I glance at each other.

  “Daniel, about Lila. She likes sports?” I ask.

  “Not so much. No.”

  “What does she like?” Brooklyn asks.

  This causes a full thirty seconds of thinking. Then, “Manicures.”

  “What else?”

  More thinking. “Cocker spaniels.”

  I have a funny picture of three dozen cocker spaniels racing toward her, all carrying a rose. But Daniel’s on a budget.

  “Anything else you can think of? Something that might lend itself to some romance?” I ask, cueing Brooklyn to go hit the music on the iPod that’s set in portable speakers.

  But even with Frank Sinatra playing, Daniel looks completely out of ideas. “I mean, I don’t know. I know she likes breath mints and burritos with no onions. Um…sunless tanning lotion. Tartar-control toothpaste. Let’s see here, she likes the toilet seat down.” He smiles sheepishly. “Still working on that one.”