Be My Neat-Heart (13 page)

“And?”

“Apparently the children had crawled into the window displays and played there for quite some time, to the delight of the people on the sidewalk. If anyone had walked out the door and asked if three little kids had gone by, they would have found them immediately. By the time police got to them, however, one child had crawled into Santa's lap and was sound asleep, another had lain down on the floor with the mannequins of the children in repose waiting for Santa Claus and had fallen asleep with them. The third, the oldest, had gathered all the loose toys from the elves at the workshop and taken them behind a curtain to play with them. He had made a Lincoln log house, a fort of blocks and was putting the finishing touches on a Lego airport when they found him.”

“And Molly?”

“She'd sworn herself to a life of chastity, bread and water and no makeup for a month by the time we got there. She also offered to give up television, the phone in her room, popcorn and chocolate. She was trying to think up a worse punishment, but she hadn't yet been able to commit herself to an entire lifetime without mascara and blush.”

I laughed, because Jared made it sound so funny, but I saw that Molly's external clutter and chaos had much to do with her internal goings-on. Before I could speak, Jared leaned forward and put his hand over mine, and I felt a zing of energy bolt up my arm like lightning. It knocked out all my power receptors, and I was putty in his hands.

“Enough about Molly. More about you.”

And I was almost sure he added under his breath, “And me.”

We'd been talking for some time, utterly unaware of everything around us when I remembered the thought that had come into my head earlier.

“Jared, do you think it's possible that Molly has ADD?”

“Attention Deficit Disorder? I doubt she's been evaluated. I'm not sure that twenty years ago people were quite so aware of it as they are now. Why?”

“Because it would explain so much of Molly's behavior.”

Jared looked mildly interested. “Really? I don't know much about it, other than it seems to be in the news a lot these days.”

“I'm no specialist, but I have a cousin whose daughter has ADD. In fact, I feel rather stupid that I didn't consider this before now. I'd assumed it had been ruled out in Molly's case, but she has all the signs.”

“Such as?” He was twirling a lock of my hair with his index finger and not paying much attention to what I was saying.

I was having difficulty paying attention to what I was saying, too, but I forged ahead. “Distractibility, a short atten
tion span, bed wetting late into childhood, doesn't listen well to directions, misplaces things, is easily bored, restless, fidgety, can't sit still, impulsive, trouble with follow-through, inefficient…” The longer I talked, the more impact the symptoms had on my consciousness.

On Jared's, too, apparently. He straightened and let my curl fall from his finger. “You're describing Molly exactly.”

“I don't know why I didn't think of it before, other than I don't usually think of ADD manifesting in adults. It has to, of course, but we hear so much about diagnosing it in children these days…”

Jared's forehead was wrinkled into a frown. “It makes sense. Perfect sense, in fact. I wish I knew more….” Then he shook himself like a big wet dog just out of a pond. “But we can discuss it later. Tonight—” and he touched the tip of his finger to my lips and drew it down the curve of my cheek “—is for us.”

T
here was a string quartet playing in the Grecian room and a waiter glided around the room offering appetizers to those milling about. My stomach gave a great heave of hunger and I tried to catch his eye. Another waiter appeared and offered me my choice of beverage—water, bubbly or still, soda water with lemon or lime or something he called a “water beverage” flavored with fruit juice. Nice as this little soiree might be, we were still obviously at a health spa and they were elegantly attempting to force us to get in the required eight to ten glasses a day.

Although the appetizers weren't made of water, it was close—cucumbers with a sprig of dill, radish roses with a single caper as their center, carrot coins topped with a minuscule daub of something white—whipped cottage cheese, probably. There was caviar—three eggs per toast point—and one slice of bread had no doubt been enough to serve the entire room. My hunger nipped at my insides with the persistence of a termite on wood.

Jared walked over to me with a grin on his face. “What game are we playing here—the ‘imagine there's food on the plates and pretend to eat it' game?”

“We're eating light.”

“Huh. We're eating invisible. I picked up what someone called a watercress sandwich and held it to the light. I've seen paper thicker than that bread. This is like the story of the emperor's new clothes. Everyone's pretending to enjoy the food, and there's nothing on the plate.”

I patted my stomach. “It will keep us trim.”

Jared looked me up and down. “Let me see, a radiant Scandinavian ice princess who isn't wintry after all. Silvery blond hair, frosty blue eyes, a complexion perfect as porcelain…yes, I can see why you might worry if you put on a pound or two.”

I felt a blush bleeding through my entire body. “You shouldn't…”

“Why not? It's true. So is the fact that you are graceful, move like a dancer and turn heads wherever you go.”

He watched my expression turn to astonishment. “Of course, that's not why I like you.”

My mouth worked like that of a fish out of water.

“I like you because you're funny, intelligent, independent and you don't let me get away with anything—even bullying my own sister.”

Having been completely blindsided by this shower of accolades, I was glad for the waiter who came by to offer me an appetizer—a twig of celery with a minuscule speck of cream cheese spread on it.

Fortunately there was more substance to the rest of the evening than there was to the food.

“The Art of Romance” program turned out to be an eclectic mix of romantic paintings throughout history, romantic music, poetry and a few funky extras. One of these extras was a “Qualities of the Ideal Man” contest. Now, I'm not much on contests, but when first prize is a free night's stay at the Oasis, I can become pretty creative.

“You're going to do it?” Jared asked. “Write a list of what you want in a man?”

“This is for fun, you know. I don't think they expect something terribly deep or inspired.” I was already recalling some of the ridiculous conversations Wendy and I had had about men over the years.

“Aren't you going to reveal your personal requirements?” He studied me with a soft smile. “Otherwise, how will I know how to act?” Jared put his hand over mine. “I don't want to disappoint you.”

I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Don't worry, I'll tutor you.”

“I want to be teacher's pet.”

“You already are.” Then, so as to not draw any more attention to us, I grabbed the pen and paper I'd been given and started to create the requirements I figure most women want in their ideal man.

Jared, seeing I was serious, wandered off to learn how to read poetry and dip strawberries into chocolate, leaving me to my imagination.

Qualities of an Ideal Man by Sammi Smith

1. He laughs at my jokes.
   
2. Showers regularly.
   
3. Understands PMS and its consequences, is unafraid of a woman in hormonal flux and knows that chocolate, flowers and jewelry are the only real cures despite what medical experts say.
   
4. Can read my mind.
   
5. Is willing to give up the remote without twitching, trying to hide it under a cushion or wanting to “discuss” why I want it.
   
6. Chews with his mouth closed.
   
7. Knows when to say “Yes, darling,” and mean it.
   
8. Calls me when I'm thinking about him.
   
9. Calls me when I'm not thinking about him.
   
10. Just calls.
    
11. Remembers my birthday, the anniversary of the day we met and any other day I've decided in my mind is special (but have not even told him about—see quality #4—mind reading).
    
12. Owns candles and knows how to use them.
    
13. Thinks a week without bringing me flowers is a disgrace.
    
14. Says I'm the most beautiful woman on the planet—and means it (This has nothing to do with nearsightedness and everything to do with inner-sightedness).
    
15. Takes walks with me under the stars.
    
16. Know the right answer to the question “Does this make me look fat?”
    
17. Shares my spiritual beliefs.
    
18. Never lets a day pass without saying “I love you.”
    

I turned in my list to the spa staff who were doubling as contest judges and went to find Jared.

“What happened to the chocolate-dipped berries?” I asked, mouth watering already.

“We ate them. Every guy here is starving, Sammi.” He lowered his voice. “Someone went out on a covert run for pizzas. We're planning our rendezvous for later. I don't think the staff patrols the prison yard at night. If they do, we'll just have to make a break for it.” His eyes grew wide and serious. “If I'm caught and they throw me in solitary confinement, tell Molly thanks anyway for the great weekend.”

“Okay, drama king. And what else did you do while I was gone?”

“I discovered I really don't agree with Alfred, Lord Tennyson.”

“Say what?”

“‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.'” He looked dreadfully serious all of a sudden as he took my hand. “I'm not sure I could stand to lose you now, Sammi, any more than I could bear to lose one of my family. I think it might be better to never love than to think of it slipping away from you.”

He was talking about me…us!
My heart should have, by rights, exploded in my chest, the way it was feeling.
Us!

I opened my mouth to respond but at that moment someone rang the huge gong that sat in the foyer of the Oasis and the sound hung, shivering, in the air.

“The staff of the Oasis would like to thank you all for coming tonight, and before our party ends, we would like to present the winner of the Qualities of an Ideal Man contest with her prize. Ms. Samantha Smith, will you please come forward?”

Jared whooped and the others clapped as I slunk forward to pick up my prize. Then I straightened my shoulders and threw back my head. What was I embarrassed about? Not only could I describe a romantic man, I
had
one! Next time I came to the spa to use my gift certificate, I'd bring Molly with me—out of gratitude for forcing me to see exactly who and what her brother really is.

 

We strolled through the grounds holding hands and saying very little. I had neither the urge nor desire to break the comfortable silence between us. Jared, it seemed, didn't, either. Finally we settled on a wrought iron settee on the patio. The
grounds grew quiet as the guests returned to their rooms for the night.

The moon hung like an opalescent disk, a brooch on navy velvet with a scattering of diamonds sparkling around it in the sky.

“What a night.” He said it as if expecting no answer.

“A jewel of a night.”
In more ways than one!

“A marvel, certainly.”

“Do you believe in miracles, Jared?”

He was silent a long time. “I've never really thought about miracles much,” he said honestly, “although they happen every day—medicine, science, babies being born, children growing into adulthood. Those are the kinds of miracles I think about, believe in.”

“What do you believe, Jared?” The question slid through my lips as if of its own volition. I needed to know. Of all the things about this man I did and didn't know, this was the most important.

“About what?”

“About God. About Jesus. About faith.”

He studied me intently and the silence between us grew. It wasn't an uncomfortable space but a considered one. I felt grateful that I had no desire to fill in the space with nervous chatter.

When he spoke his voice was soft and thoughtful. “Frankly? I spent much of my life as a Revelations 3:15 Christian.”

Revelations 3:15?
He took my surprised silence as a signal to continue. “‘I know your works: you are neither hot nor cold. Would it be that you were cold or hot!'”

He shifted in his seat, stretching his long legs and making himself more comfortable. “I spent a lot of my life being lukewarm about Christianity, Sammi. Church was pleasant
and familiar, I knew the ropes, the songs, the jargon. I wasn't cold to it, I didn't want it out of my life. In fact, I took comfort in the security of it. I just wasn't ‘hot' about it, either. On a scale from one to ten, I hovered between four and six.”

He looked at me with a gentle, self-revealing expression that made me feel as though I could read his soul.

“Do you have a gas or electric stove at your house, Sammi?”

Taken aback, I mumbled something about preferring gas to electric.

“Then you know how the pilot light looks in the burner?”

“Of course.” Where on earth had this come from? Next, were we going to swap recipes for unleavened bread?

“That was the temperature of my faith—just like the little light in the stove. It was there. It had the potential to start a blazing fire, but was content just ‘being there,' lighting up once in a while, but happy to let someone else do the cooking.

“There was a great deal of potential for my faith, but I was content to be barely burning—not hold or cold.” He studied me quizzically. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“Perfectly. The church is full of gas ranges with little pilot lights. I don't cook on ‘high' in my faith all the time, either.”

He looked pleased to know I understood. “The last few years, however, primarily since Molly and I joined forces, someone has been playing with the switches on my stove. I think God gave me Molly to amp up my flame of faith.”

He leaned back in his seat and I was struck by his incredible softness and vulnerability. This is what Molly had wanted me to see of her brother. It certainly put me in my little judgmental, holier-than-thou place in a hurry.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she is such a challenge sometimes.” He shook his head as if to rid it of annoying thoughts. “And I see how it is to love people in spite of themselves.”

If my heart hadn't already been a puddle resting on my diaphragm, it would have melted then and there.

What's going on here, God? I don't like this guy, remember? Or at least I didn't last week….

“But you seemed so angry with her….”

“At her? I suppose so, but I've been angrier with myself. I should have known better than to expect her to change just because she had her name on the front door of the office.” He straightened. “But enough about her. I'm sure she didn't get us together to spend our time talking about her.”

“Then why
do
you think she tried to link us up?” I teased, knowing the answer already.

He took my right hand and kissed the tip of my index finger. “This.”

Gently he moved to my next finger.

“And this.”

Okay, my hand is going into paroxysms of joy.

“And this.”

By the time he kissed the palm of my hand, I would have followed him like a lemming into the sea. So much for the strong, spirited, independent woman who'd thought Jared would have been best locked out of Molly's home while we were working. He could sort my clutter any old time.

“May I walk you to your room?” he asked.

“It's only up a flight of stairs and down a hall.”

“Too far for someone precious like you to travel alone.”

We walked hand in hand to the door of my room where we stood facing each other. Jared put his right hand on the door jamb behind me and looked down into my eyes.
Down
into my eyes. I felt small and light and practically waifish.

There were other sensations even more unfamiliar coursing through me, as well. Sensations that played around the words love, captivated, charmed and the scariest word of all, com
mitment. I felt both relief and sadness when Jared took his hand off the wall behind me and straightened.

“And tomorrow is our last day at the Oasis.”

“Back into the desert for us.” I felt distressed as I said it.

“How are you getting home?” I was relieved to hear him move to practical issues.

“My camel is in the shop, so Wendy will be picking me up. She went up north. I'll call her to tell her what time to be here.”

“Why don't you just ride home with me?”

“Oh, I couldn't…” I began and then stopped myself. I
could.
“I suppose she would like a few more hours with her family. She was disappointed to hear that checkout time here was noon.”

“Then call her. Promise her I'll take good care of you, okay?”

I knew he would, and so I did.