Plan (5 page)

The date with Kyle had left her feeling let down, and thoughts of going home for the weekend had not raised her spirits in the least. By lunch on Friday, Rachel was dragging. Everything about her slouched. She dawdled in her classroom as long as she could, but she knew that it was time to hit the road. Maybe she would have a flat tire, or a dead battery, or maybe a truck would run over her on the way out of town. Anything would be acceptable at this point.

“If your bottom lip got any lower, you would be dusting the floor with it.”

“Huh?” Rachel's head jerked to attention.

“What's the problem?” Randy asked. At his look of concern, she felt her spirits rise.

“It's just been one of those days,” she lied. He nodded his head and then gave her a piercing look. It was as if he could read her mind.

“Why do I get the feeling that you're feeding me a line?”

She averted her eyes until she felt his hand under her chin. He tugged gently until she looked him in the eye. His face was mere inches from her own. She sucked in her breath as their eyes locked and an electric current shot between them. Held them. Connected them. It seemed like hours, but lasted only seconds. Then, he stepped back, and it was gone. She searched for the right words, for any words, but her mind was a white canvas.

“Why don't you come into my office and tell me what's really bothering you?”

“I can't. I promised Mama that I'd be home in time for dinner.” He looked disappointed, but he only nodded his head. “When I get back, I want to talk with you about the Center.”

“Sure. How about after class on Monday?”

“That'll be great. See you then.”

“Yeah. Monday.” She gave a weak wave and then
turned down the hall. As she turned the corner, she
sneaked a look and found him staring after her. Their eyes met again for an instant before she bolted down the stairs.

From Myerstown to Birmingham, Rachel tried to ignore the rerun of that moment in the hall. She tried to erase it from her mind, but, like a bad song that got stuck in her head, it kept going around and around. She tried to
focus on Kyle, but that only brought up other issues.
She wished she could just shut off her brain for a few hours. But the minute she pulled into the drive, she knew that any hope of peace was gone.

“It's about time you got here, Rachel. We were worried sick.”

“Who's ‘we'?” Rachel asked.

“Why, Dale, of course. He's been here almost half an hour, waiting on you.”

Rachel's heart sank like a fifty-pound weight. “What's Dale doing here?” she said through clenched teeth.

“He came to see you,” Edna replied.

“How did he know I was coming, Mama?”

“I called him and invited him to dinner the minute I knew you were coming home. I knew he would want to see you, and I was sure you would feel the same way.” Edna put her hands on her hips and lowered her voice. “I just don't understand you. Dale is a nice, young man, and you just tossed him aside like garbage.”

Rachel raised her hands. “Mama, I don't want to talk about it. Let's just go in and get this over with.”

“Get this over with. Get this over with.” Edna closed her eyes. “Lord, help me. I just don't understand you.”

“That's obvious,” Rachel said, half to herself. Still, her mother heard, and Rachel could feel the cold air descending. Nothing had changed.

Dinner was a strained affair filled with her mother's incessant chatter about nothing. The tension was obviously getting to her. Rachel refused to help her in any way, shape, or form. This was Mama's own doing. She would have to live with the consequences. Rachel thought
she was in the clear about where she stood until time for
dessert.

“Well, Rachel, we'd better get a move on if we're going to beat the weekend crowd,” Dale said. He wiped his
mouth one more time, and then laid his napkin neatly on the table.

“Excuse me?” Rachel said.

“I told Dale that I didn't need any dessert. I'm watching my figure, you know. I asked him if he wouldn't mind taking you out for dessert.” Edna Grant put on her sweetest, most innocent smile.

Rachel looked from one to the other. It was a conspiracy. They were in on this together. Well, it wasn't going to work this time. They weren't going to shame her into doing something she didn't want to do.

“I'm afraid I'm on a diet myself. Too much sugar is bad for you.” Rachel smiled sweetly while inside she burned with indignation.

“A little bit won't hurt. Someone as pretty as you doesn't need to worry about one little dessert,” Dale replied. His sugared words melted in the fire in her eyes. He realized too late that he had taken the wrong tactic.

“Actually, I've been looking forward to spending time with Mama. I haven't seen her in three months. So, if you don't mind, I'll have to bow out this time. Why don't you go ahead? I'm sure there are plenty of people at McKnight's to keep you company.”

Dale's face colored slightly, but he had the good sense to take the hint. Despite her mother's protests to the contrary, Dale left ten minutes later. Rachel sighed as she heard his car pull out of the drive. But her respite was short.

“Rachel Grant! I cannot imagine what just got into you. That was so rude and inconsiderate.”

“
I
was rude and inconsiderate?
You're
the one who invited him knowing good and well that I never wanted to see him again.”

“Why? He's such a nice, polite young man.”

“He's nice to you because he wants you to trust him. That's the way he works, Mama.” Rachel pushed her chair away from the table and picked up her plate. Her mother's voice followed her into the kitchen.

“You're just too picky. One day you're gonna find yourself all alone.”

“That's enough, Mama!” Rachel's voice took on a sharp edge. “I don't want to talk about this anymore. You obviously will never understand.” Rachel put the dishes down with a bang.

“Don't you talk to me that way, young lady. I raised you, and I deserve a little respect.”

“So do I, Mama. So do I.” Rachel turned on her heel and went back to the dining room. She started stacking the dishes to give herself something to do with her hands. It was either that or strangle Mama.

Moments later, she heard the back door slam and the screech of the screen door as it bounced closed. Rachel continued to clean off the table and load the dishwasher. She scrubbed the counters and appliances until everything glowed. She scrubbed Dale's image from the stove, but she couldn't get their first and only date out of her mind.

At the urging of her mother, she had gone out with Dale six months ago. He seemed charming enough and very attentive. The first part of the date was fine. They went to a movie and dinner. He was a perfect gentleman, opening doors and holding her chair. However, on the way home, he turned into a dead-end street and parked in the shadows.

“Why are we stopping here?”

“I just wanted to spend a little time alone with you,” Dale said. He put his arm across the back of the seat, and before she knew what was happening, his open mouth was on hers. She pushed him away, but he kept coming back like an octopus. Finally, Rachel punched him in the jaw, sending him back to his corner.

“What was that for?” he yelled.

“Take me home.”

“Fine!” He started the car and slammed it into gear. He must have left half of his tread on the asphalt. They made it home in record time, although he did slow down when he got within a block of her house.

She had never felt comfortable telling her mother about that night, despite the fact that her mother kept asking her about Dale. She had skirted the issue until the weekend was over and then hurried back to her quiet apartment in Myerstown. She thought she had heard the last of him, but some nightmares just kept coming back. What would possess Dale to think she was still interested in him? Why would he still be interested in her after their date? It had to be her mother. Would she ever learn to stop meddling?

An hour later, Edna Grant came in, quiet and sulky. Rachel waited until she had settled into her seat in the living room before she started.

“Mama, I want you to promise me something.”

“What?” she bit out.

“Promise me that you'll never invite that man over here again, especially not in my presence.”

“Don't I have the right to invite anyone I want into my home?” Edna sat up straight. “This is still my home, isn't it?”

“Of course it is, Mama, but I don't ever want to see him again. If I ever think you're going to pull something like this again, then I won't come back to visit. Do you understand?” Edna's mouth tightened into a thin line. “Do you understand, Mama?”

“Fine. You can die an old maid if you want to. I wash my hands of the matter.” She got up and exited the room with a flourish.

Rachel sighed and turned on the TV. Maybe there was a good movie on.

Her mother never said another word the rest of the weekend, except to ask what she wanted for dinner and to say good-bye. It was with great relief that Rachel got into the car after lunch on Sunday. The minute the house was out of sight, she floored the gas pedal and hightailed it for home.

Randy spent the weekend finishing the wallpaper in the dining room. All it needed now was some furniture and pictures. He looked around and sighed. What it really needed was a woman's touch. Rachel's face popped into his mind.
What was she doing tonight? What does it matter what she's doing tonight? She made it clear the other day that she was interested in someone else. But what about Friday and that parting look?
The argument went on, back and forth.

He cleaned up the dining room and moved his tools to the master bedroom. It and the bathroom were the only rooms left needing repairs. He had put it off time and
again. The bedroom was empty except for his tools and
the sawhorses. Empty like the rest of the house. He tried to
shake off the dark mood that was descending on his
spirit, but it was like trying to shake off a leech. It just hung there and sucked the blood from his veins. He was tired of living alone, tired of the overwhelming silence.

He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. “What am I doing all this for? If I don't have someone to share it with, then, what's the point?” He waited, but his prayer seemed to
have bounced off the roof. The heaviness in his chest felt
l
ike a physical weight. He sat on the dusty floor
with his head in his hands. Tears flowed unbidden
down his cheeks.

“I'm here.”

“That's not the point. I need someone tangible,
human, to talk to and laugh with.”

“I'm here.”

“I know, but I need someone all my own. You gave Eve to Adam because he was lonely. Why can't you do the same for me?”

“I'm here, Randy. I'm all you need.”

He nodded, then picked himself up. He had gotten his answer, like it or not.

Monday morning, he rushed through grading papers, so that nothing would detain him from his meeting with Rachel. He still had a chance with her. He could sense it in the way she had looked at him Friday. With a flourish of almost unintelligible script, he finished the last paper and threw it on the stack. All he needed now was a rubber band to hold the pages together and he was ready to go.

Rachel came by at the usual time, more subdued than normal. Something was wrong. He wished he could help her, but something told him to wait. A part of him wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. Still, he held back.

“Hi, Rachel. Have a nice weekend?” The look on her face told him before she ever opened her mouth.

“No. How about you?” She colored and tried again. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so. . .so. . .”

“Honest.” He smiled, then she laughed.

“Yeah.”

“Well, as it happens, I had a lousy weekend myself, so I can empathize. How about we go to lunch and not talk about it.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Seated in their favorite corner of The Magnolia, Rachel watched as Randy waited at the counter for their order. She wondered if his weekend had gone as badly as hers. He brought the food over and sat down opposite her.

“Now, what did you want to talk about?”

She took a sip of her iced tea. “Well, I'm just not sure what to do about the Center. The university can't help and the city won't help. I asked the church if we could use the fellowship hall, but that's out too. Did you have any luck with the historical society?”

“I called and talked to the local chairperson who said all their funds are tied up right now, but she implied that it wasn't a worthwhile project.”

“Wasn't worthwhile!” Rachel's head popped up and her eyes sparked. “What do they mean, not worthwhile? Don't they know what goes on out there? Don't they care?” she sputtered.

“Hey! Don't shoot the messenger.” Randy raised his hands in surrender. “I'm only repeating what they told me.”

“I'm sorry, Randy. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just been a long weekend followed by a Monday.”

“I can relate.” Randy reached across and covered her hand with his. A shiver ran up her spine. “Hey, you're not cold, are you?”

“No. I'm fine. Just a reflex.” She shrugged it off.

“Do you want to talk about this weekend?” He shot her a piercing look, and another shiver threatened to run loose.

“What do you mean?” She took another sip of tea to avoid looking him in the eye.

“Rachel, I can tell something's wrong.” He lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Let me help you.” She could see the concern in his eyes, such beautiful eyes. Warm brown pools that she could drown in. His hand encircled hers, and she could feel the warmth spreading to her cheeks. She wanted to tell him everything, but something held her back, some unknown fear clamped down on her tongue and robbed her of the words.

“I just had a little fight with my mom. No big deal. I'll be fine.” She pulled her hand back, breaking the connection. “So, what do we do about the Center?”

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. For a moment, she thought he would try again. She held her breath, but
he let her change the subject. She felt oddly disap
pointed. Talk turned back to the Center and their options. There didn't seem to be any more choices.

“There's only one thing left that I can think of,” Randy said with resignation.

“What's that?”

“Prayer.”