My Sister's Prayer (35 page)

“Yuca?”

I glanced up from my plate to see the handsome man across from me holding out what looked like a small french fry dipped in mayonnaise.

“Go ahead,” Austin urged. “It's really good.”

I accepted his offering and popped it into my mouth, savoring the surprising flavors of the fried yuca combined with cilantro and lime. We were sitting outside on the deck of Casa Cubana, a downtown restaurant not far from the Canal Walk. It was a beautiful evening, the chill of the air negated by radiant heaters around the perimeter of the dining area.

Thus far our date had been going great, even if I had been a bundle of nerves at first. This afternoon, while Nicole napped, I had taken my time getting ready to go out. As I smoothed and dabbed and curled and styled, I kept trying to push from my mind the hurtful thing she'd said the other night, how I wasn't good enough for him. It wasn't easy, but in the end I was as ready as I was going to be. At least my outfit worked, a light sweater paired with a wrap dress, leggings, and my beloved stiletto boots.

For Nicole's sake, I had waited for Austin outside on the patio, chatting easily with Miss Vida, who had agreed to hang out with my sister while I was gone. I had enticed her with the offer of the pay-per-view movie of her choice along with, a party-size bag of M&Ms and a big bowl of popcorn with extra butter.

Austin arrived exactly on time, and his face broke into a broad grin the moment he saw me. I immediately felt more at ease. Perfect or not, I'd obviously passed muster. After that, I felt more confident.

He looked amazing in gray slacks, a fitted shirt, and an elegant tie, his smile a perfect white, not a hair on his head out of place. It was fun introducing him to my landlady, especially when she caught my eye behind his back and started fanning her face, pretending to swoon.

His relaxed and pleasant demeanor immediately put me at ease, and I enjoyed our drive to the restaurant in his sporty Infiniti. Once there, we were shown to the perfect outdoor table for two, where we had fun choosing our meals from the elaborate menu. We chatted easily, just getting to know each other a bit. He had a habit of straightening his tie every few minutes, a gesture some might find off-putting but that I liked. It showed he was neat and orderly, qualities I admired. He was also charming and pleasant, and we had so much in common the conversation never lagged.

Now it seemed we had made it all the way to the food-sharing stage. After enjoying the yuca fry he'd given me, I offered him one of my plantains in return.

“Sure,” he said, though he didn't take it from me with his own hand. Instead, he leaned forward so I could feed it to him. The motion was oddly intimate, and I could feel heat rising in my cheeks as I slid it into his mouth.

By the time we made it back to my place, I was reluctant for the evening to end. He took my hand as we strolled to the door and kept holding on to it even once we came to a stop. Nerves fluttering in my stomach, I turned toward him and thanked him for a lovely evening. A cool breeze swept past, blowing at my hair, and almost immediately he reached up and tucked away a stray strand.

“Looking a little windswept there,” he teased with a grin, his fingertips lingering at my cheek. Then he brought his lips to mine, warm and sweet, for one brief but impressive kiss.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
HREE

Maddee

T
he next morning, I was awakened by a four-second clip of music proclaiming, “He's a dreamboat!” A text from Austin. Smiling, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and checked the screen.

Sunny and warm today. Bike ride and picnic after church?

I hesitated only a moment before responding:
Love to. Will see if I can work it out.

He replied:
Okay, but two incentives to keep in mind. Roast turkey sliders with garlic-basil mayo. Me in shorts.

I burst out laughing—and found myself hoping he would deliver on both.

Miss Vida said she was happy to stick around and handle lunch, so I knew that as long as I got back in time to help Nicole in the bathroom and take her to her meeting, it wouldn't be a problem. My sister didn't seem all that happy about it, but I felt sure that had more to do with her reservations about my seeing Austin than spending an extra hour or so with her new buddy. After last week's makeover and last night's movie fest, she and Miss Vida were fast friends.

Austin and I ended up riding the James River Trail Loop, stopping to eat at a pretty spot along the water. As promised, he brought the food and drink, including not just turkey sandwiches but also fruit salad, fresh veggies, macadamia nut cookies, and a thermos of lemonade. We had fun, though he did tease me mercilessly about my “sissy bike,” especially once I admitted I'd chosen it primarily for the color scheme. He also wasn't too happy about having to cut our time short, but what could I do? Caring for my sister was my top priority right now, and everything else had to come second—even time with this extremely handsome and charming man.

He was almost petulant on the ride back, though once we reached my place, he apologized.

“It's just that now that I've found you, I'd really like to spend time together, you know?”

His words made me blush, but I couldn't have agreed more. There was so much promise here, and not just of more fun afternoons in the park. When I looked at Austin, I saw a home, a family, and a whole brood of beautiful children. A lifetime together. I was still getting to know him, but there was already so much to like. The fact that he was this interested in me in return was enough to make my heart soar.

Before leaving, he asked me out for Saturday, to a party at a friend's house. I accepted, not exactly sure what I would do about Nicole, but with a whole week to figure it out, I should be able to come up with something. To my delight, we also made plans for lunch after church on Sunday, something I hoped would turn into a regular thing.

Maybe my dream of a family wasn't so far off after all.

Though we had to rush, I managed to get Nicole to a three o'clock meeting at a Baptist church on First Street. We didn't talk much on the way, but that was fine with me. I was off in my head somewhere anyhow, trying to picture what our future children might look like. Would
the girls get my auburn hair? Would the boys have their daddy's broad shoulders and trim waist? Either way, they would be tall.

I brought along a book and spent the hour sitting on the floor in the hall just outside the room where the meeting was held. About halfway through, I peeked inside, checking on Nicole. The chairs were in rows, about half of them full, with a woman addressing the group from a podium up front. Nicole sat off to the side in her wheelchair, and though I couldn't see her face, I could tell from her slumped posture that she was either really bored or in a fair amount of pain.

It turned out to be the latter. By the time it was over, she looked miserable, her skin pale and beads of sweat forming along her brow. Once I managed to get her home and into bed, pills in her system and ice on her aching ribs, I asked if she knew why she was hurting so badly today. To my surprise, she confessed that she'd tried to go the bathroom this morning without help and had ended up falling hard against the handrail as she attempted the transfer.

“Nicole! You could have really been hurt. You know you're not supposed to do that alone.”

“Yeah, but I also knew Miss Vida shouldn't do it, and you were off playing footsie in the park with Dr. Ken Doll.”

“Hey, watch it,” I snapped.

“Sorry. I'm just concerned about you, is all. You guys seem to be moving so quickly.”

“Imagine that.” I could hear the sarcasm in my own voice. “I guess he doesn't realize that he's too perfect for me. He even seems to like me. And I like him.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “He's not the one for you.”

“Yeah, you made that abundantly clear the other night. I'm not good enough.”

“What?” She pushed herself up from the bed and then fell back down again, wincing from pain. “No. It's not about who's good enough or not good enough. It's about you and this imaginary world you live in.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you think you love fifties girl bands and Doris Day movies?
For that matter, why do you have a hope chest full of baby clothes you started making fifteen years ago? Because that's where the fairy tales are. The happily-ever-afters. The perfect life with the perfect house and the perfect husband and the perfect children. You've been dreaming that dream since you were a kid, Maddee, but you're not a kid anymore. At what point do you grow up and realize that life is ugly and messy and difficult? That it doesn't tie up in a neat little package with a perfect little bow?”

I gaped at my sister, realizing in that moment how far apart our life choices had brought us. Maybe her world was ugly and messy and difficult, but mine was just fine, thank you.

“What does any of this have to do with Austin Hill?” I asked, not even caring anymore where she was going with this argument.

“You want the things he can give you so badly that you're not even seeing who he is. You're blinded by the same hopes and dreams as always. Don't you get it? You two are too much alike, Maddee—in all the wrong ways. Being with him will only bring out the worst in you. All those tendencies and inclinations inside yourself that you ought to temper will instead just grow and grow until they take over.”

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!”

“Is it? Put you and him together and what have you got?” She counted off on her fingers. “Obsessively punctual, times two. Compulsively well dressed, times two. Perfectionistic and rigid, times two. Should I go on?”

My eyes narrowed. “No. These are stabs in the dark. You don't even know the man—”

“Exactly. And neither do you. Yet you live in such a fantasyland that after one date you're practically planning the wedding.”

“Says who?”

She flashed me a knowing look, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks.

“Whatever,” I muttered, leaving the room and ending it there. That was the problem with sisters, I decided as I mounted the stairs. Sometimes they knew you a little too well.

Over the course of the afternoon, we managed to come to a truce and recover at least somewhat from our argument. Still, the clash had
left a bad taste in my mouth, and I had a feeling it had done the same for her. She took a brief nap, and that seemed to help, as did ending the evening in front of the TV together, something I rarely did but which seemed about all either of us was up to tonight.

As I was putting her to bed, I grappled for something to say, for the right words that would ease the lingering tension between us. But before I could think of anything, my sister beat me to the punch.

“You do know I love you, right, Stupidhead?”

“Yes. You know I love you too, right, Uglymug?”

“Yes.”

We shared a smile, and I headed upstairs feeling much more at peace.