Drummer Boy (4 page)

“Don't sound so surprised. After all the stupid counselling, I'm almost ready to host my own talk show.”

Tim laughed.

They finally decided on a pizza. Onions, mushrooms, green peppers, half olives, half not.

And Tim arrived at another decision. He probably wouldn't call Jane. Yes, he was lonely in some ways, but mostly his life was busy and full. God was good, and he was well aware of all the ways he'd been blessed—and spared. Better to be on your own and lonely sometimes than to be with someone and desperately lonely. Natalie and his folks had taught him that. And other hard lessons, too.

The women he met, and his parents, always wanted him to be different than he was: spend less time with the shelter kids, land a job at a bigger church that paid more, or better yet, to get a real job. But Tim felt like he was
meant
to do the stuff he did. Paul had suggested to the Corinthians that remaining single, being celibate, was a calling for some people. Maybe that was it. Maybe Tim was meant to be one of those?

Jane's eyes sparkled up at him in his memory.

Oh yeah, he was a confirmed bachelor all right. Hard core. Drum finale, please!

 

 

 

 

5

 

“Have patience. Be patient.
It takes patience
,” Jane muttered, mimicking the physiotherapist's latest banal words of so-called encouragement. “Blah, blah, blah.”

She stepped out of the hospital and sighed heavily. Sure, she no longer needed her crutch. And yes, her ribs were healing well. But she still had almost no dexterity with her hand, and it was April already.
April.
Her fingers were hideous dark-fleshed sausages poking out of the end of their bandages.

And the weather wasn't helping. The day was leaden gray, again, with socked-in clouds, accompanied by a miserable drizzle. The ground oozed moisture and everything was a mess of melting sludge, gravel and sand that wouldn't be cleared off the streets for weeks yet. Every building looked decrepit and neglected. The evergreens were black shrouds. The barren trees were ugly leafless sticks. Where was spring?

She needed spring! Craning her head, she groaned in irritation.

Candy's car was nowhere in sight. And she had promised not to be late this time.

Good grief, you're such an eight-year-old
.
Try to focus on the good, will you?
She used to be pretty good at that, but for some reason, the ability had withered as if crushed at the same time as her hand and arm. With these dismal thoughts, she paced the sidewalk, all too aware of the ever-increasing blackness of her mood and the sky.

If Candy didn't show up soon, the clouds would break and she'd be drenched. Which would just be perfect.

“Hey!” A cheerful greeting made her jump. She turned.

Sarah's uncle grinned. A wild puppet drummer, twirling drumsticks above his head, roared from underneath Tim's unzipped sweatshirt.

Jane couldn't help smiling back at Tim—and his shirt. “Hey yourself,” she said.

Tim looked around, as if surprised to catch her alone. “So what brings you here?

She shrugged. “Nothing good. Physio. Boring.”

“Do you have time for a coffee? Or a juice? Something?”

“No, I don't think so. Sorry.”

Tim looked around again. “Need a ride somewhere?”

“Nah. Thanks, though. Candy's bound to be here soon. She's usually super dependable. Probably just caught up with something at work.”

“How's it going for you not working?” Tim asked.

Jane frowned. “I hate it. How'd you know to ask something like that?”

“You seem to have a lot of energy, and Sarah said you loved your job. It's not rocket science that you're probably going a bit stir crazy.”

Of course it wasn't. It was actually a pretty banal question. Exactly the kind of thing you asked someone you don't know well, when you're trying to stay away from the obvious—her ugly arm—and you don't want to just stand there awkwardly. Still most people asked way more annoying questions than that. Or said way more stupid things. Her favorite being: “You must be enjoying the time off,” like recuperating was some big fabulous holiday.

Tim, at least, got points for not being an idiot.

Wow, she was grouchy. She tried to rein it in and pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. Candy was fifteen minutes late. She was about to text, when her phone vibrated, and Candy's number popped up on the display. Jane shrugged at Tim apologetically and answered the phone.

“I'm so sorry,” Candy exclaimed in a rush. “I'm in the middle of something here, and I totally forgot—I can be there in five minutes.”

Jane cut a glance at Tim, but spoke to Candy. “Are you sure you're done with whatever it is you're doing, or would you be going out of your way to get me?”

Candy paused. “Of course not. It's fine. I said I'd get you, and—”

“No, don't worry about it. A friend happens to be here. He can drop me off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

“All right—and thanks.”

“No, thank you. Hopefully I'll be able to drive again soon, so I can stop being one more thing you have to balance.”

“Don't be silly. I don't mind a bit.”

“I know you don't. I do, though. And I'll think of something for dinner.”

“Great. Perfect, actually,” Candy said. “Gotta run.”

Jane hung up and wrinkled her nose at Tim. He bobbed his head, wordlessly asking what was up. He was a bit like the pit bull puppy Jane had very briefly as a kid—all shorn hair and muscle and a cute expression of constant happy anticipation of whatever might be ahead.

“Does the coffee offer still stand?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

She fell into step beside him, pleased again.

He hadn't asked if she needed him to bring the car over or some other lame thing.

 

****

 

Jane's stomach hurt with laughter and with too much food. They'd added appetizers and then a shared dessert to their coffee.

And she'd learned a lot about adorable Tim while they snacked. He still played drums, but he kept it mostly to church services these days and was close-lipped about his time with Pick Axe. He worked full-time plus hours at a part-time position at a youth outreach downtown, and he was a youth pastor at a small church in the same area.

They discussed favorite foods and discovered they shared a passion for sushi and anything spicy.

Jane enjoyed the topic because if there was anything she loved more than exercising, it was food. Her confession made Tim laugh out loud.

”I'm glad to hear it,” he said, after he finished laughing.

There was only one awkward spot in their whole visit. Jane hadn't quite figured out what had bugged him, but it had something to do with his tattoos. He'd shifted in his seat and pushed the sleeves of his hoody up to his elbow, revealing a sleeve of detailed black tattooing that went almost to his wrist.

She glanced down to see what the pictures were and when he caught her looking, a strange expression crossed his face, and he tugged his shirt down again.

“What?” she asked.

He shrugged, and she decided not to push. A story lurked there, but she'd wait until he wanted to tell it.

Time passed quickly.

When Jane glanced at the clock on the wall, she flinched. “Shoot! It's five thirty. I told Candy I'd make dinner. She'll be home at six, and as usual, I'll be a big liar.”

“‘As usual'? Huh. I see you more as a ‘truth hurts' kind of person, myself.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Sometimes. But I do have the bad habit of not always following through with things I say I'm going to do. I have good intentions, but I get distracted easily.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and considered her through heavy, lowered lids.

Jane wasn't oblivious to the bulge in his biceps or the muscles in his forearms, and her stomach tightened. This was the Tim Steady she remembered from grainy homemade, photocopied concert posters. Hard to believe he was still single.

“Are you saying I'm distracting?” His laugh was a low rumble, and just the sound of it made Jane want to laugh, too. “Good to know.”

Jane shook her head. “I'm serious. I've got to go.”

“I'll zip you home right away, and your dinner problem's solved.”

“How's that?”

“I was grocery shopping before I hit the hospital.”

“And?”

“I have all the fixings for a mess of tacos that I have no room to eat now. If we move quickly, you can have the whole house smelling like delicious, spicy ground beef and food will be ready as soon as Candy's boots are off.”

“Nice!” Jane popped to her feet, raising her good hand in a high five.

Tim stood, too, lightly smacking her palm with his.

She jumped back as their skin touched—as if a spark of electricity had literally shocked her.

“So dinner's on?” he asked, grinning.

“I guess,” she said, turning away so he wouldn't see the flush on her skin.

Timothy James Steady. Such a genuinely nice guy—and all the scarier for it. He'd definitely want more, deserve more, than what Jane had to offer.

 

 

 

 

6

 

Tim tried to tear his gaze away from Jane but couldn't. One-handed and on crutches, her industry put most people to shame.

“What?” she asked, crossing her eyes at him. “Never seen a gimp grate cheese before?”

“You're the furthest thing from a gimp.” He couldn't believe his luck. He'd been thinking about her all month, ever since he'd refused Jane's phone number from Sarah and proceeded to kick himself every day afterward.

And now, today—on the very day he prayed that God would either clear his thoughts of her or put her directly in his path so he'd know he should, maybe, try to get to know her better, he ran into her at the hospital. Again. How crazy was that timing? To be leaving the hospital once more just when she was?

“Mmm, something smells amazing,” a cheerful voice rang out. “Did you make tacos?”

“Guilty as charged.” Jane shrugged out of her apron and looped it through the handle of the fridge. “But I confess, I had help,” she added as Candy entered the kitchen. “Tim, my sister Candy. Candy, my friend Tim.”

“Yes, I think we met at church, informally.” Candy had been beaming, but now her face tightened. Her smile was more polite than welcoming.

Well, it wasn't as if he wasn't used to that kind of reception, though usually, it was parents who had a problem with him initially, not siblings.

Then again, maybe he was reading more into her mood change than was actually there.

Jane leaned in close to Candy and whispered something. Candy winced a little, but then tucked her hair behind her ear and stuck out her hand. “Welcome to crazy house, Tim. I feel bad that we're stealing your dinner.”

Tim gave Candy's hand a soft squeeze and wished it was Jane's hand instead, wondering if it would feel the same as Candy's, or different? He'd bet money—except that he didn't actually gamble—Jane's skin was a little rougher, maybe even a smidge calloused. “Feel bad? Are you kidding me? Today made my whole month.” He was grinning like a kid who'd had too much sugar, giddy and hyper, too enthused for such a small event, but he couldn't help it.

Jane turned pink and looked so cute that his face heated, too.

“Oh, good grief,” Candy said, looking from Jane to Tim and then back at Jane. “I'm going to wash up. Let me know if you want me to do anything.” Candy left the room.

Tim coughed. “Well, that was awkward.”

“Heh, by my family's standards, that was nothing. Wait 'til we're all gathered around the table. They're ridiculous and loud, and they'll give you the third degree.” Obvious affection for her family filled Jane's voice, making her complaint sound complimentary.

Tim stretched his head side-to-side and rubbed at his sternum, trying to ease the sudden tightness. “Call me nuts, but I'm looking forward to it. You're blessed.”

Jane set down the bowl of grated cheese she'd been about to carry into the dining room on the counter and turned to look at him. “Now what's that?” she asked.

“What's
what
?”

“That note in your voice, sad or something.”

Tim laughed lightly.

Jane shook her head. “No good. Even sadder. What's up?”

Tim opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again. He squinted at Jane in thought. “You're right,” he said finally. “I'm happy for you, maybe a touch of wistful for myself.”

“Gah. You are nuts. Wait until you know them.” Jane waved her hand as if to brush away another disparaging comment she was about to make about her sisters and brothers. “What's your family like?”

“Small. And quiet. There's just my mom and dad—but they're hours away—me, my sister-in-law and, of course, Sarah. The bright spot.”

“Sister-in-law.” Jane's whole body stilled. “So that means Sarah's dad…he was your brother?”

Tim shrugged and nodded but couldn't meet Jane's gaze.

“He was the first person I helped in the hospital who didn't make it. I'm sorry. It must've been, must still be, so rough.”

“Yeah, I've always been sorry, too,” Tim said softly.

Jane rested her good hand on his forearm.

He didn't pull away, though he wanted to. He didn't want her sympathy. He didn't deserve it.

“When you say sorry like that, it sounds like you feel responsible, but—”

“I introduced him to drugs. Maybe if I hadn't had the lifestyle I did…”

“No.” Jane shook her head.

They were quiet for a moment.