The Waiting Page 6

  Smiling, Sam opened the kitchen door, and the three of them walked out toward his car. As he held open the passenger door and moved the front seat so Cassie could climb in the back, she stepped away. “You know, I just remembered I was supposed to call Sophie. Beth, you’ll have to go alone with Sam. Sorry.”

  The grin on Cassie’s face said she was anything but sorry. Katherine had been trapped, and if she backed out now, Sam would know she was making an excuse. She shot Cassie a you’re-in-big-trouble look as she pushed the seat back in place and climbed into the car. Maybe this would work out better anyway. Without Cassie along they could talk.

  6

  Sam backed his car out of the driveway. Thank you, Cassie! That girl must be a mind reader.

  “A little gourmet ice cream shop recently opened on Main Street—The Scoop. My dad took Cassie and me there last week. Just go down two blocks and turn right.”

  “I kinda had someplace else in mind.”

  “Oh.” She ran her fingers through her hair again and looked down at her tank top and shorts. “I’m not really in shape to go to any place too fancy.”

  She looked great—no makeup, tousled hair. He could wake up to this every morning. “You’ll be fine. Trust me. I’m not exactly wearing a suit myself.” He smiled at her, turned south toward Austin, and shifted through the gears until they reached driving speed.

  “Doesn’t this car come with an automatic transmission?”

  “It does.”

  “Really? Why wouldn’t you get it then? Was the dealership out of that model?”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. “The car was made to my specifications. In this time when cars can drive, park, and stop themselves, I want something I can feel in control of. Driving a standard’s fun.”

  “I wouldn’t call it fun.” She crossed her arms and looked straight ahead.

  He glanced down at the speedometer. Sixty. “I’m not speeding. Am I scaring you again?”

  She looked over at him. “I’m not scared now, and I wasn’t scared the other night either.”

  Yeah, right.

  “I was remembering the time my grandfather tried to teach me to drive a standard in his old pickup. He laughed, I cried, and we both gave up.” She sighed. “As I said, not fun.”

  “How many lessons did he give you?”

  “Only one. Believe me. That was embarrassing enough.”

  “Most people need more than one.” He moved his right hand up to the wheel. “Look down at the gearshift. See the ‘H’ markings? First is on the upper left, and then you shift straight down, up and over, down, up and over, down. But we probably won’t get to that last one.”

  She pursed her lips together. “I know how to read the diagram on a gearshift, Sam.”

  “Good. Glad we got that out of the way.” He pulled the car off onto the frontage road, stopped at the stop sign, and then he put the car back into first. “OK, put your hand on the knob.” This should be fun.

  “What?” She opened her eyes wide. “No, I’ll ruin your new car.”

  “You’re not gonna spoil—uh, ruin—my car. C’mon, take hold of the gearshift.”

  She leveled her eyes and shook her head as she grasped the gearshift knob. “Whatever.”

  As he gently cupped his hand over hers, his heart pounded as it did in the tunnel before the team took the field. He looked over at her to see if she felt the tension, too. Her face was scarlet. Yeah, she did. “Here we go. Just keep your hand on the gearshift.”

  He gave the car some gas and eased off the clutch. As the speed increased, he guided her hand back into second, then up into third, and finally back to fourth. He glanced right out of the corner of his eye. She was grinning. As he squeezed her hand, she laughed. Her skin felt soft and silky.

  Still gripping the gearshift, she leaned forward. A couple of minutes passed before she turned and smiled, her eyes sparkling like chocolate diamonds. “When will we shift into fifth?”

  “We’re not. I just needed a good excuse to hold your hand.”

  Her fingers tensed, and she slipped them out from under his. “Oh.” She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak but then looked out the window.

  He drove to the off-ramp at exit ninety-seven.

  A smile covered her face. “The Dairy Delite. I didn’t know the place was still in business. I haven’t been here since the summer after I graduated from high school.” She leaned her head to the side and lifted her eyebrows. “How did you know about this place?”

  “Doesn’t everybody?” He pulled into a space up under the red and blue metal awning, rolled down his window, and pushed the order button.

  A young woman’s voice cracked over the speaker. “It’s a Dee-lightful Day at Dairy Delite. What can I get you?”

  Sam leaned toward the speaker. “Two large root beer floats, please. That’s all.”

  The faceless voice rattled off the price. “We’ll have your order right out, sir.”

  He turned back to see Katherine staring at him open-mouthed. “You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

  Whoops!

  “How did you know I love root beer floats?” Her forehead wrinkled.

  She was so cute when she was puzzled and not in control.

  “Doesn’t everybody?”

  ~*~

  She dipped her spoon down through the ivory froth and brought up a perfectly proportioned bite of ice cream and root beer. No place in Dallas made floats like this. A Little Bit of Heaven at Exit 97. But a drink wasn’t enough payment for what he’d done. “Sam, I’d really like to pay you for fixing the dishwasher.”

  He lowered his head and looked into her eyes. “Can’t a friend help a friend? A ‘thank you’ is more than sufficient.”

  The last bite he’d taken had left a small droplet of white foam on his upper lip. As he wiped it away with the tip of his tongue, an unexpected question popped into her mind. What kind of a kisser was he? Probably a pretty good one. Confirming her suspicions would be easy enough. She could lean over and find out right now. In spite of the cold ice cream, fire radiated throughout her body as her mind wandered into forbidden territory again. What was wrong with her? She barely knew him, and what she knew was certainly far from her ideal man—The One. “Thank you, then.” She took another bite. “How’d you know what to do, anyway?”

  “Just a lucky guess. My dad was a contractor, and I helped him fix things around the house as far back as I can remember. Before I was old enough to really help, I’d hold his tools.” A soft warmth settled in his eyes.

  “Then in high school and college when I wasn’t studying or on the soccer field, I was on the job site with him. Construction work was the only job I had until I signed to play professional football, uh, soccer. My dad never viewed soccer as a career. He wanted me to have real job experience to fall back on when I was tired of playing around.” His empty cup rattled as he sucked the last few drops of root beer and air up his straw and then smiled. “He changed his mind.” He set his cup on the ledge under the menu board outside his window, and when he turned back the smile was gone. “You go to church?”

  Pretty much everyone in Crescent Bluff went to church, out of habit if for no other reason. “Why?”

  He rubbed his hand across the top of his head. “I got invited to go tomorrow.”

  “Invited? By whom?” As if she didn’t know.

  “Cassie...and Brad. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone, and I just wondered if you’d be there. It would be nice to have someone to sit with, besides Aunt Ginny and Uncle Jess, that is.” His eyes were big and soft, searching hers for some sort of acceptance.

  “I haven’t gone to my church in Dallas for a few months, since right after my Mom...” Her voice caught, and she breathed deeply to steady herself before continuing. “But I’m going with Cassie tomorrow. I guess we could save you a place. I have to warn you, though, get there early. The seats fill up quickly, or at least they did when I was here around Christmas.” She handed him her empt
y cup. “Would you set this on the tray, please?”

  He took her cup and set it outside. “Great! Thanks.” Putting up the window, he cranked the car. “Ready to head home?” When they reached the entrance to the frontage road, he grinned at her. “The gearshift is all yours, Katherine.”

  “What?” Her heartbeat increased in proportion to the revving of the engine.

  He placed both of his hands firmly on the wheel. “I’m not touching that thing. It’s up to you to get us home. Ready?”

  “No, I can’t do it.” Dad had looked this car up online and told her its average price. She wouldn’t take any chance at ruining the transmission on a car that to replace would cost more than her entire 401K, and then some of Dad’s, too.

  His gaze challenged her. “Have it your way.” He accelerated out of the parking lot and then said, “Shift.”

  “No.” She wouldn’t be manipulated into playing his juvenile game.

  The speed of the car grew slower and slower until it finally rolled to a stop in the middle of the road and the engine died. He just sat there with both hands on the steering wheel.

  What was he doing? “Sam, go. We might get rear-ended sitting out here like this.” She looked over her shoulder. The road was clear, no one behind them.

  He flipped on the emergency flashers. “And who’s fault would that be?”

  The memory of sitting at the intersection to the highway on the blind date when the truck had honked at them popped into her mind. She wouldn’t win this battle. He could be so unbelievably infuriating. She grasped the gearshift. “OK. But I’m not taking any responsibility for what might happen to your car.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t believe I asked you to.” He restarted the car and accelerated down the road. The revving of the engine stopped. “Shift.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she pulled the gearshift straight back. The car kicked into gear, and the speed increased. She giggled.

  “Shift.”

  Following the H diagram on the knob, she pushed the lever upward and to the right. The car sprang forward as the needle on the tachometer climbed toward the right. They were accelerating onto the highway.

  “Shift.”

  An involuntary squeal popped out as she put the car into fourth. She’d never felt so connected to a car before, and she wasn’t even driving it. Something about this seemed totally unsafe...and completely fun. Her hand gripped the gearshift like a vise.

  Sam’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You can let go, now. Your job’s done for a while.”

  A few minutes later they pulled into her driveway. A part of her wanted to invite him in, but she shouldn’t. She’d never had this much trouble reading a man. He didn’t ever seem to want to kiss her good-bye, but then he’d admitted earlier he’d wanted an excuse to hold her hand. Maybe he’d been joking. Maybe she was just another of his ridiculous games.

  Time spent with Sam was unpredictable. She did things she’d never done before—felt things she’d never felt before. He was turning her plans upside down, which was the very reason she’d vowed just a few hours ago not to go out with him again. Sure, making that choice was easy when he wasn’t around. But whenever she was with him, her heart overrode her mind, and all sanity disappeared. She needed to stick by her original decision. No, she wouldn’t invite him in.

  He opened the car door and offered her his hand to help her out. As she stepped toward the kitchen door, he held her hand tighter and pulled her close. “Hey.” The nearer she came to him, the more her resolve ebbed away. Her stomach fluttered. Would he finally kiss her?

  His voice was low and hushed. “I’ve thought of another way you could pay me for repairing the dishwasher.”

  As his gaze locked on hers, she floated weightlessly in the Caribbean. So much for the discussion she’d just had with herself.

  Putting his arm around her, he pulled her closer. Her heart raced as she lifted her head and he leaned nearer. She shouldn’t do this, but she wanted to. Stopping, he waited. As she closed the minute gap between them, he turned away at the last second. She kissed his cheek, not his lips.

  Eyes twinkling, he drew back just enough to look into her face. As he moved forward, she closed her eyes, and his whisper brushed her ear, making her tingle to the tips of her toes. “I meant going dancing together to rehab my knee.”

  He’d deliberately embarrassed her, and worse than that, she’d let him, even helped him, put her in that position. She jerked away, tramped up the steps, and pushed open the kitchen door.

  His voice laughed behind her. “See you tomorrow morning at church.”

  Slamming the door, she breathed deeply and steadily to keep from screaming her frustration. So, so, so smug. And no way, no how, was that...or would that ever be...on The List.

  7

  A contemporary worship song played in the auditorium as people found seats for the morning service. If only she hadn’t agreed to save a place for him. Coming to church again after all these weeks made her feel uncomfortable enough. Throwing Sam into the mix, especially after yesterday, just complicated the whole situation. A good person would have wanted him to show, but she didn’t. She was a bad person, or at the least, a self-centered one.

  Brad stepped into the row of chairs in front of hers. “I’m glad you agreed to go to Oklahoma in your mother’s place, Katherine. I’m sure it means a lot to Cassie.” If people had told her in high school that Brad Thompson, the man who should have been voted “Most Likely to Party,” would be her baby sister’s youth minister and soccer coach, she would have called 911 and had them committed. But something happened to him in college, and all that wild spirit had been channeled in a different direction.

  “I’m glad it worked out so I could go,” Katherine replied. The last mission trip she’d gone on had been to Mexico the summer after she and Clark had started dating. “I’ve really been looking forward to chaperoning. The only conflict I had was work, and now I don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I found him.” Cassie stepped into their row with Sam right behind her.

  Katherine’s stomach rolled as a lump swelled up into her throat. She breathed deeply and slowly to calm the lingering waves of last night’s embarrassment.

  Today he wore jeans and a brown and blue plaid western shirt. In the low lighting, his feet weren’t visible, but his height indicated he was wearing boots. Cowboy boots, most likely.

  “Hey, man.” Brad stepped out into the aisle, and he and Sam did one of those guy hug-handshake things.

  “Brad.” Sam turned in her direction.

  Katherine quickly locked her gaze onto the church bulletin so he wouldn’t find her looking at him.

  “So, this is what church is like nowadays,” Sam said. “A lot’s changed in fifteen years.”

  Brad grinned. “Only the way it’s served. The meat’s still the same. See you later, man.”

  “Excuse me, Beth.” Even though Katherine had left two seats beside her on the aisle, Cassie tried to climb over her to the inner portion of the row.

  Katherine gestured to the chair between hers and the one on the end. She kept her voice low. “I saved this seat for you. Sam can sit on the aisle.”

  “Good morning, Katherine,” Sam said as he dropped down into the aisle seat and leaned forward. “I hope you slept well last night.”

  She cast him a cool grin. “Like a baby.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” His eyes danced.

  The lights in the auditorium dimmed as the band moved into their places. Even though Cassie was between them, Katherine could still see him out of the corner of her eye. She’d never be able to concentrate on the sermon today with Sam and his attitude only one chair away. And if the title in the bulletin meant anything, she really needed to hear this.

  God’s Will—Why Doesn’t He Just Text Us?

  ~*~

  Katherine pulled a lasagna Florentine from the freezer. She was glad Cassie had gone over to Sophie’s for the afternoon. Now she had some t
ime alone to process the sermon. As she opened the microwave, her gaze fell on the pottery spoon rest she and Mom had seen at the arts and crafts fair in Fort Worth last year.

  The combination of the earthy sienna clay mixed with splashes of sky blue, swirls the soft green color of mesquite trees, and dots of pink and lavender had brought tears to Mom’s eyes. Tears from a simple piece of pottery not much larger than the palm of Dad’s hand.

  “Oh, Katherine, isn’t this lovely? It’s a miniature representation of the beauty of God’s creation.” Mom had picked it up, and as she’d tilted it in different directions, the way the light reflected off the glaze made the pattern seem to shift. Almost like a kaleidoscope. “A clay garden in my hand. Kind of like that song about God holding the world.”

  “You should buy it, Mom,” she’d suggested.

  Mom had sighed and set it back down. “No, I’m trying to exercise self-control. I don’t need it. Your father says I do way too much impulse buying, and he’s right.” She’d chuckled. “Besides, I have the real thing right outside my back door.”

  A few minutes later, when they’d walked far enough down the lane that the pottery booth was no longer visible, Katherine had made an excuse about needing to find a restroom and went instead to purchase the spoon rest. She’d had a difficult time biting her tongue when her Mom had changed her mind and stopped back by the pottery booth on the way out, only to find the spoon rest was gone.

  The guilt she’d felt the day of the fair was washed away by the glimmer in her mother’s eyes when she’d pulled the clay ‘garden’ spoonrest out of the small gift bag on her birthday a few weeks later. The monetary value of the piece—it had been less than twenty dollars—hadn’t brought tears to her mother’s eyes, but the joy of obtaining something she’d wanted badly had. She’d gotten something she’d loved, something she’d thought she’d never have. Something that spoke to her soul.

  Tears obscured the clay mini-creation, as the colors mixed together into that drab gray of nature, when the life of springtime is hidden by the death of winter. A commentary on Katherine’s present life.