Drummer Boy (11 page)

“Jane, hey!” Tim said as she entered the room—like it was some special treat that she'd appeared, not completely obvious she would, seeing it was her house and all.

She hated how Tim's eyes lit up when he saw her. It made her heart skip. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't she seeing him and only him?

“Uh, I have…plans.”

His smile faded. “Oh, yeah? Well, I guess that makes sense.”

It did? Jane wasn't so sure, not so sure at all.

He gestured at her outfit. “You're all dressed up.”

She shrugged.

“You look…stunning.” It was like the words physically hurt him—and he scowled. She'd never seen him scowl before.

“Did we—I'm sorry, we didn't have something scheduled that I forgot, did we?”

Tim shifted his weight foot to foot and Jane realized, almost hysterically, that she was doing the same thing. They really were ridiculously similar in some ways.

“No, no plans,” he said, shaking his head. “I just, ah…never mind.”

“No, what?” she asked.

“I just wanted to see you,” he said softly. “I always want to see you.”

Jane searched frantically for something,
anything,
to say, wanting to be brave, wanting to, for once, risk saying something she really thought, too.

But the doorbell rang, and Kaylie rushed to the door from the kitchen, shrieking, “I'll get it.”

“I'll catch up with you later,” Tim said, and slipped out the door as Rob entered.

“Just wait a second.” But her words came too late.

Tim was gone.

“It's nice to see you again, Jane,” Rob said, leaning in the doorway in a position that showed off the well-toned six-pack beneath his expensive knit shirt. He gave Jane a quick once over before smiling warmly.

And suddenly Jane knew something. Concretely. Without any doubts. She placed her hand on Rob's forearm. “I'm sorry, Rob. You seem like a nice guy, but having dinner with you wouldn't be fair.”

Rob blinked. “Not looking for a relationship right now?” he asked, his voice almost a parody of understanding.

“Something like that, sort of,” Jane said.

“Uh, OK,” he said. “I mean I'll still take you out, but if you're sure…”

Jane wrinkled her nose apologetically, and she was sorry he'd dragged himself all the way to her house, only to have her cancel, but he was a Ken doll, and she was tired of pretending she was Barbie.

Rob gone, Jane grabbed the phone and called Tim's cell. It had been set to voicemail. She left a message. Then another. And finally a third that was much less chatty and hyper-cheery than her first two had been—and more real. “Please call me back. I know I hurt your feelings. Again. We need to talk.” She listened to the empty air for a few seconds after she pressed end.

 

 

 

 

18

 

Jane walked with Tim to the dark corner of the parking lot where their cars waited, totally alone, the last of the stragglers from youth group long gone.

She shook her key fob at him, and he smiled grudgingly at the tinny-tinkling sound. “Yes, for the billionth time, it's fantastic you're driving again. And it's even more excellent that you're back to work. Congratulations.”

“It's just light duty for now,” Jane said but couldn't keep excitement from her voice.

“It's sure getting cold, hey?” Tim moved further away from Jane, fists shoved in his pockets, looking up at the sky.

Jane studied his posture for a moment and then followed his gaze, taking in the expanse of navy shadows. Here and there, pinpricks of bright silvery light popped out, breaking the darkness.

“The stars are coming out right before our eyes,” she said.

“Don't do that,” he said.

“Don't do what?”

Tim sighed. “Be all cute and whimsical.”

“I'm not. I promise. I'm definitely being all grouchy and stoic.”

Tim laughed, but it wasn't his normal belly laugh. It was a dry, almost sad, sound.

Jane shivered.

“Yeah, really getting cold,” he reiterated.

“Thanks for calling me back,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Why did it take so long?”

Tim wrapped his arms across his chest and buried his hands in his armpits. “I wanted to think about what I wanted to say.”

“That's weird. I thought I was the one with specific things that needed to be said.”

“Maybe we both do, but please hear me out.”

“OK—but we have to walk. All this standing around is making me mental.” Jane took three steps before Tim joined her, and it wasn't until they crossed the street and found a sidewalk that he spoke again. “You're really special, Jane.”

“I know…but I'm safe when medicated. I promise.”

“I'm not joking.” He almost sounded irritated.

She'd never heard him sound that way.

“And I know from all your jokes every time it comes up, you don't see me the way I see you.”

Tim had been right. The temperature really was falling. The black sidewalk glimmered in places where moisture was freezing, creating shiny, slippery spots. And she was wearing stupid shoes—pointy-toed flats without good tread. As if cued, she started to slip. Before she even put her good hand out to try and regain her balance, Tim caught her. She rested her head against his chest, breathing hard. She could hear his heartbeat. For a moment, time stopped.

“Jane,” he whispered against her hair. “Being just friends, watching you date idiots, it's killing me.”

She pulled back gently.

Tim's brown eyes were honey-gold in the yellow beam from the overhead streetlight.

“Oh, yeah?” She placed her hand on his chest, the same spot where she'd listened to his heart. “And what can we do about that?” She'd intended the words to be light and coy.

Tim looked away from her and scrubbed a hand over his chin. “You're not ready yet. I get it.”

“I don't know if you do, Tim.” Jane flashed her biggest smile. “I'm flirting with you—”

“I know. You're always flirting—with me, with some other guy…with someone. And don't get me wrong, I see your charm. You have a super cute way about you.”

“Super cute” from his mouth didn't sound like a compliment. A burning lump formed at the back of Jane's throat, making her voice craggy. “But?”

“But I don't want to be just one more guy you flirt with.”

“You're—you're not.”

“You have no idea how much I want that to be true. No idea how…Ah, never mind.” He shrugged one shoulder, and then was quiet for so long Jane started to bounce from foot to foot. “I pray for you all the time, you know,” he said.

“Oh, really? And just what do you pray for me about? That I'm not a shallow flirt? That I get my life figured out?” Jane clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked at the bitterness that she'd let seep out.

Tim stroked her cheek and tucked a piece of hair that had slipped out of her messy topknot behind her ear. “Um, no…but also, sort of.”

Jane turned and retreated back in the direction they'd come from.

He caught her hand and laced his fingers through hers. She hated and loved the heat that surged through her and the way her pulse raced at his touch.

“You love fun, and you love to flirt. It's part of your cheery, kind nature, but you aren't shallow. And you have more figured out about your life than you're comfortable admitting. You're just scared of anything that you can't control, and there are two sides to that part of your personality: a huge, positive side that makes you such an amazingly productive, generous, go-getter as a volunteer and helper and nurse. And a huge negative side: in your personal life, if anyone gets too close to you, you run away.”

“Wow, thanks for the psych evaluation. I'll sleep so much better now.”

Tim's jaw tightened, and he walked faster, but he kept his fingers linked through hers.

Jane was torn between wanting to yank her hand from his and wanting to never let him go.

They were silent the rest of the way back to their cars, which were parked side by side, but clearly divided by a thick white line.

“And one more thing,” he said, releasing her hold as they reached the driver's side of her car.

“Just one more?” Her hand was cold and felt smaller without his, which was completely bizarre since that was the first time, and no doubt, the last, they'd ever hold hands.

“Those other guys? The ones you dated before your accident? The ones who sent flowers to your hospital room? The ones you've seen since? They never stood a chance with you before, and they definitely won't now that you know what it's like to spend time with someone who loves you.”

Jane froze.

Tim let out a sigh that sounded like an expression of pain. “Don't look so freaked out. I'm not asking you to return my feelings or anything. I know I'm no great catch, but—and I'm sorry if this makes me a lesser person—I can't, don't want, to just be friends. I'll always want good things for you, but my feelings are too intense. I can't be with someone I'll never be enough for—”

For once no smart comment or response came to her. Wordlessly, Jane clicked the unlock button on her key fob and slid into the driver's seat.
Tell him how you feel. Tell him you love him, that you want to be with him, that you just need a bit more time, patience,
a voice inside her encouraged. But she couldn't. How could she? She would just let him down—like she already had. Like he himself had implied she would in the future. Tim's gaze was on her, but she started her car anyway.

He was still a moment, and then started to walk away.

She unrolled her window. “Tim.”

He turned toward her, eyebrows raised in hopeful expectation. Jane's heart lurched almost painfully. How could he be so brave when she was always such a coward? He needed someone who was his match. Not indecisive and flirty and weak. “I pray for you, too,” she whispered.

He looked so happy that tears misted her vision a little. “You do?”

She nodded. “I pray that God has a wife in His plans for you. One who's good enough for you. One who's your equal. One who won't let you down. One you can call blessed.”

“But—”

Jane smiled, brushed at her eyes, and then rolled up her window. Clicked the lock button. Turned the heat and defrost on full blast, and closed her eyes, trying to blot out the vision of Tim's hurt, confused face.

Eventually, Tim's car engine started and his car slowly rolled away.

She used her mirrors to check behind her vehicle before she pulled out—and again the white lines delineating her parking space grabbed her attention. If only life were as simple as a parking lot. If only one could break through all the things that boxed them in by merely deciding to.

She was halfway to the hospital, on her way to her new posting's orientation, when the significance of something Tim had said caught her. He'd said he loved her—
he loved her
!—but he was no great catch. What on earth did that mean? It wasn't remotely possible that he thought he wasn't good enough for her, was it? She shook her head. That couldn't be.

 

 

 

 

19

 

The hall was warm and steamy with good smells—cooking turkey, bubbling gravy, apple and cinnamon.

They had the funds to serve full-course dinners five days this cold, cold week, and Tim was both grateful and a bit distracted. His mind, when he was alone these days, played back his conversation with Jane.

“Well, that went really well,” Tim grumbled to himself, throwing a pair of wool socks into each one of the gift bags in front of him. Then he grabbed the box of individual toothpaste tubes and started at the beginning of the line again.

“You say something, drummer boy?”

Another Jane-ism that had stuck at the kitchen. He shook his head. “No—just mumbling to myself, Aida.”

“You better watch that.” She placed a flat of meal replacement drinks on the table beside Tim. “You might end up on the receiving end of the soup line.”

“Not funny,” he said.

“A
little
funny,” she corrected and bustled away.

It took every ounce of willpower he had to not slam the cans of vanilla and chocolate flavored beverages into the bags. He was angry. Furious, even. But he knew it was just hurt feelings. He'd said his piece. Jane knew how he felt. It drove him crazy that she seemed to return his feelings one minute, only to flee the next—under the pretense she was doing it for him.

He needed to pray that both he and Jane would have a true sense of who they were in Christ, and that he'd be able to back off and let her grow toward him, or away from him, however God willed. But he couldn't bring himself to do it right away and ended up praying for forgiveness instead.

God help me accept that she doesn't feel the same way. Help me to be whole in You, and You alone
.

 

 

 

 

20

 

Jane finished wrapping the last circle of duct tape around Candy's Christmas present and smiled to herself. She'd outdone herself this year. The package was going to take forever to open. She tried to take some pleasure in the joke and succeeded mildly by imagining Michael and Matt's responses.

“What are you grinning about?” Dean asked, rounding the corner from the dining room and entering the living room.

Jane jumped and whipped the present behind her back, though it didn't matter who saw it now. It was well-disguised.

“Uh, hey, Dean. How's it going? Is Candy with you?”

“No, she's still working—and she said something about stopping by the grocery store for last minute goodies or something.”

“Excellent.” Jane held out the gift and smoothed her hand along its side, game-show hostess style.