“Well,” Matt began, hoping he wasn’t asking to be shoved back into the musical torture chamber once more, “I know that Hope and Jay love it. Jay told me I’d love it. I told him he was nuts.”
They walked along the street, over a block, and down Boutique Row. The lights of the city were magically beautiful against the black night sky. “I bet he thinks you’re going to eat your words.”
“He can think it, but that don’t make it so. There is something seriously wrong when a single syllable takes thirty seconds and is stretched into a dozen new ones.”
Lane’s snort was decidedly indelicate. “It makes me want to sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ and ‘Jingle Bells!’”
They’d made the loop around Boutique Row back to the RAC. Matt heard Lane humming and nudged her. “I dare you.”
“Dare me to do what?”
“‘Jingle Bells.’ Top of your lungs. Standing on the edge of that fountain.”
She jumped up onto the seat that ran around the fountain and put her hands on her hips. “And if I do?”
“I have to do your dare. Anything legal as long as it isn’t promising not to talk about the
Brethren
when your dad goes home.”
He’d read her mind. Just as she heard “anything legal,” he saw her decide to use this to get out of what he suspected she perceived as futile, but Matt preempted her. “Okay. Deal.”
The doorman stared as the recently departed couple singing “Jingle Bells” around the fountain. Several of the staff awaiting the intermission watched from the doorway, snickering, as Lane sang, hand motions and all, at the top of her lungs. Occasionally, Matt would join for a line or two, but the performance was completely hers.
Diners from nearby restaurants strolled by watching the performance with interest. One cheeky cab driver called, “Get a hat!” as he drove past the scene.
Lane took it all in stride. As she finished, she stood before Matt, a self-satisfied expression on her face. “My turn.”
“Your dare?” Matt had wondered what she’d do.
“I dare you to recite that sonnet at the top of your lungs from the seat of the fountain.”
He jumped to the perch where she’d ordered him to go, gazing down at her, amused. “Ok, but the next one has to at least be in the direction of the hotel!”
“That’s even better! Can I change it? I dare you to walk back to the hotel quoting it at the top of your lungs!”
The walk was hysterical, to say the least. Matt quoted Shakespeare, Lane leap-frogged a newspaper vending machine, and then Matt flagged a taxi and asked directions to the Statue of Liberty.
At the hotel lobby, Matt realized it was early yet and Lane had expected a fun evening. “Okay, what do you want to do? We can’t just go in. You didn’t get all dressed up just to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ for the RAC.”
“You still owe me a dare.”
“I’ll claim it later. Right now, we need to plan something to do.”
On impulse, Lane walked up to the nearest hotel employee and said, “Quick! If you could go anywhere in the city you wanted right now, where would you go?”
“Golf ‘n’ Stuff.” The valet attendant looked at Lane as if she was crazy.
“Golf ‘n’ Stuff it is.” She spun to ask Matt if he knew the way, but curiosity got the better of her. “Hey, why?”
“Why what?” The poor valet was more confused now than ever.
“Why golfing? Why not roller skating, sky diving, dancing, or a movie?”
“I am in a mini-golf tournament next month. I need the practice.”
Lane shrugged and linked her arm through Matt’s. “Looks like we’re going golfing!”
~*~*~*~
“Hey, that’s only a three on this one!” Matt’s voice held a trace of gloating. He’d been doing better than Lane from the get-go.
Lane, however, didn’t seem to know her own strength. She handed her shoes to Matt and took careful aim. The bridge was a bit tricky, and if she hit it wrong—again—he could be in the line of fire. Again. The problem was that no matter where he stood, a ricocheting ball would likely bean him.
The incongruous picture of a woman in a beautiful dress, hair piled on her head, and stocking feet was hysterical. Matt stood near her, his suit jacket over one arm, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened. Something was particularly comical about seeing Lane with the putter as she settled in for a swing as though she was going to hit a baseball.
To their surprise, Lane’s ball rolled smoothly over the bridge, down the tunnel, and into the green passing the hole by centimeters. “Drat!” Lane’s voice didn’t sound too unhappy. She skipped over the bridge in her stocking feet and opera dress looking like a prom queen out on a lark.
The next swing wasn’t as graceful. As usual, she hit the ball too hard, with the edge of the club, sending it flying into the adjacent obstacle and knocking someone else’s ball into the hole. Matt groaned and raced to retrieve the ball making apologies as he did. Lane, however, was quite proud of herself.
“Does that count? Is that a two?”
“Nope. That’s two, but it doesn’t count.” Matt tossed the ball lightly upward and pointed to it as it gently bounced from the side of the green. “There. You work from there.”
Four more shots finally got the ball in the hole and one bruise to Lane’s shin. “That makes three for me.”
“No, Lane, you got a six on that one.”
“I mean bruises. How many have I given you?”
Deliberately ignoring the ones on his heart, Matt held up four fingers. “I’m winning on all accounts.”
“You have to admit this is fun! Can we play another game?”
“We’re not done with this one!”
“So?”
Sixteen
Lane was better prepared for church on that second Sunday morning. She and Matt sat with Lynn in the back corner row. The difference in the now ex-prostitute was astounding. Lane had not realized how young Lynn was, or how pretty. The heavy make-up, the teased hair, and the revealing clothing had left a very inaccurate impression of the girl.
Lynn was quiet. Her delicate features seemed pronounced by the simple jean skirt and t-shirt that she wore. Her hair hung strait and her face held only faint traces of mascara and lip-gloss. Added with the change in her demeanor, the effect was like night and day.
Lane wanted to ask so many questions, but knew she never would. She wanted to know how the week had gone, if Lynn was safe, and if she had family who worried about her. So many thoughts raced through Lane’s mind as they waited for the service to begin, but she said nothing. Eventually, Lynn spoke.
“Patience didn’t come with you?” Lane hadn’t expected the question.
She shook her head slightly. “No. She went home to Montana. She was just here for the week and then got a little homesick.”
“She was nice to me.”
“She loves to write. I’ll tell her she can write you, if you don’t mind getting letters from a little girl. She’ll probably write about sheep, horses, pesky older brothers, and her new little friend, but—”
“I’d like that. Thanks.”
Before Lane could answer, the pastor called them to worship. Lynn didn’t make it through the entire service. While she usually stormed out in anger, this week she seemed overcome by emotion. A few women waited as if ready for this and exited the room almost unseen by anyone not watching. Lane was watching.
After the service, Hope cornered Lane, eager to hear how the night at the opera had gone. “You didn’t like it?”
“It was awful. It is not my thing at all. Matt was right.”
Hope’s amused chuckle was all the reassurance that Lane needed. She’d been afraid she would offend Hope if she told the truth about her opera experience, but her new friend didn’t seem bothered. “So when does Matt go back to work? My friend Kirky and I have been thinking of all the things we can do to occupy your days.”
“Well my brother Tad will be here too—”
“Is that a hint that you are busy or that you’re a packaged deal?” Hope’s eyes told Lane that she wouldn’t be bothered either way.
“Oh, I would love to have you show us around, but I didn’t want to presume—”
“Tell me; is Tad over eighteen and under thirty?”
“He’s twenty-three, why?”
Hope grinned delightedly. “I just love throwing Kirky in the path of available men. She’s totally in love with a mutual friend of ours, but she either doesn’t know it or won’t admit it. A man from Montana here for a week is probably a safe nudge. He won’t be around long enough to get his heart entangled.”
Lane glanced across the hall to where Matt stood talking to a friend. “No, a week is certainly not enough time to lose your heart.” Even as she said it, Lane knew she was lying.
~*~*~*~
“Is there a reason you’re sitting on a couch in the hallway when you have a perfectly fine suite to visit in?”
Lane jumped and squealed. “Dad!”
Matt watched delighted as she hugged her father and sleepy-eyed brother. The love in the Argosy family—the affection—it was something he envied—craved even. Matt rose to greet the travelers and found himself pounded by hugs—man style.
The Argosys settled into the adjoining room, made arrangements for breakfast the next morning, and then Matt took the subway home. Warren, exhausted by the air travel, went straight to bed, but Lane and Tad had one of their late night snack attack talks. On Lane’s bed, laden with chips, packaged donuts, soft drinks, and baked goodies from Martha, they talked into the wee hours.
“So Matt said, after Mom and Patience left, that he wouldn’t come in my room anymore. We’ve been doing our talking out there on that loveseat by the elevator for the past week! It’s so stupid.”
“No it’s not, Lane. I’m glad to hear it.”
Lane’s eyes furrowed. “What kind of loose moral-ed gal do you think I am? Nothing inappropriate would happen.”
Tad lobbed a peanut at her. “Lane, it’s not that. I trust Matt as much or more than you. I’m guessing a guy like that isn’t exactly inexperienced. It just shows that he’s smart.”
“Tad!”
“I’m dead serious, Lane. You can’t expect a man to lay on your bed alone in a room with you and not have his mind racing in a million unwelcome, but very wanted directions.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened. “But I wouldn’t—”
“He wouldn’t either! What do you take him for? He’s a good man. But he’s a man.”
“You make men sound like sex-starved animals!”
It was Tad’s turn to blush. He sighed and tried again. “That’s not what I meant at all. I know men Lane; you don’t. We’re not all a bunch of guys with no self-control who look for opportunities to lust after women any chance we get.” Tad swallowed hard, took a swig of Mountain Dew, choked, coughed, and tried again. “But, Lane, we aren’t immune either. I am guessing that Matt is having a harder time than I’d have. He’s probably—well, what I mean is that once you’ve—and I would assume—”
“Matt has been with women if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Tad’s eyes widened in surprise. “He told you that—”
“In the interest of full disclosure, he shared his past, and I’ll let him tell you any particulars, but suffice it to say, it’s colorful.”
Lane’s face didn’t give her brother any indication on how she felt about this information. Tad didn’t know whether to pry or let her tell him in her own time. He finally opted for the latter.
“Well, okay. That’s my point exactly. If I struggle enough around a strange girl who shows interest in me, and I haven’t ever—I just think someone with that kind of experience and with a girl he really loves—it’d be hard, Lane. Don’t put him through that. He won’t act on it, but why make it harder on him than it has to be?”
“I don’t understand men I guess.”
“That’s okay. We don’t understand you either.”
After another hour or two of talking, Lane grabbed Tad’s arm. “You’re a guy.”
“Glad you agree.” Tad’s voice hid the nervousness he felt. Something in Lane’s eyes told him she wanted to discuss Matt’s intimate past.
“Let’s say you grew up in the inner city—”
“Well I wouldn’t call this—”
Lane’s head shook violently. “No, Tad. When you see you’ll understand. He grew up in a really rough neighborhood, went to school with gang types and girls who are—well, they’re not like me anyway.
“Now, if you grew up like that and had a significant amount of experience with other people, could you put that out of your mind with someone else?”
His eyebrows rose. This wasn’t the question he’d expected. Tad rearranged his thought processes and smiled at his little sister. Lane was such a strong personality. He’d never seen her so vulnerable. He’d have to let Matt know to reassure her. An unexpected thought crossed his mind.
“You don’t think that his caution is because he’s not interested, do you?”
“Well no. Not exactly. I just—”
“Lane, just how much experience do you think he has?”
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m guessing he’s been with a lot of women. He said—”
Tad’s heart constricted as her voice broke. “You’re not second choice, Lane. You’re not fifth, tenth, fiftieth, or anything like that. He may have not saved himself for marriage, but he saved his heart for you.”
As Lane snuggled into her bed a while later, she remembered Tad’s words. Sometimes, being mad at God made life difficult. She was so thankful for Tad, his reassurances, his explanations, and their relationship, but thankful to whom? Once upon a time, it’d been God. Now she didn’t know where to direct her gratitude.
~*~*~*~
Tad spent the first day with Warren leaving Lane and Matt to spend Matt’s last day off together. They rode the subway to Matt’s neighborhood and then walked ten blocks to a large building. The fences had barbed wire and the front doors had metal detectors. Lane couldn’t believe that this prison-like structure was a school.
“You went to school here?”
Matt ushered her to the office to sign in pointing out different pieces of nostalgia as he went. “Yep. Graduated eleven years ago. I’ll show you the auditorium after we get passes.”
“What are the passes for?”
Matt laughed, the hall echoing the emptiness of summer vacation. “They don’t let people just wander around the school whenever they want. If you are seen without a pass, they’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”