Miss Match (15 page)

I mix the concoction vowing if either party doesn't marry, I'm going
to bestow a rain of fiery chastisements on their heads.

Brandon, Hannah, and Ruby all show up at exactly five thirty this
evening. I think it is sad how Ruby has trained us to be the Punctual
Picture Party.

Brandon, in typical fashion, doesn't ring the doorbell, doesn't knock,
just barges right in.

I swear I am going to get a deadbolt for that door. One of these days
he's going to walk in and I'll be in my underwear.

Fortunately, I got dressed good and early.

"Where's Ryan and Nick?" I ask.

"Nick called, he's on his way." Ruby hands me the salad she made.

I smile sweetly. "He has your number?"

She blushes. "Well ... he ... I ..."

Hannah pats her arm. "Why don't I take your coats?"

I'm more than curious about where she's going to put them. This is
the first time Hannah has been to my house.

I grab her arm on her way down the hall. "First door on the right."

"Thanks."

Nick shows up just as the threesome heads to the kitchen.

He looks awful.

I don't let him inside.

"Whoa, Nicky." I shove him back onto the porch and close the door
behind me. "What the heck happened to you?"

His hair, normally smoothed down with gel, curls Shirley Templelike all over his head. Which, by itself, is pretty cute. But his eyes ...

Blegh.

"Laurie." He swallows.

"Did someone die? Were you in a wreck? What happened?" I push
him down on the bench.

He cradles his head in his hands. "Laurie, Laurie, Laurie. I can't
do this."

Confusion is setting in. "What? Dinner?"

"No." He looks up, eyes tortured. "Ruby."

I stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"She's beautiful."

"Okay. With you so far."

"She's so sweet and charming and godly." He shakes his head, looking off in the distance. "She even cooks!"

I'm totally lost. "Nick, I'm not seeing the problem."

"Laurie, look at me!"

It is my firm belief in Pit-of-Despair times like these that honesty is
always the best policy.

"You look awful."

His shoulders sag farther. A feat I thought impossible. "Thanks."

"Listen, you can borrow my comb and some spray gel."

"She's amazing, Laurie."

I blink. "Who is?"

"Ruby!"

"So why are you so upset?" I ask. My temper is beginning to play
hide-and-seek, and at the moment, it is lost. My voice has more than a
little bite to it. It is cold, I'm wearing a lightweight long-sleeved T-shirt
and no shoes, and I know I'm getting frostbite on my nose.

Nick stares at me bleakly. "I think ... I think I ..."

Suddenly, frostbite or not, I want desperately to hear what he has
to say.

"Go on," I urge.

"Oh, Laurie," he whispers. "I think I've fallen-"

"Hey, guys."

ARRG!

It is all I can do to not clobber Ryan over the head with a wicker
chair and stuff his body under the porch so Nick can finish.

Nick sobers immediately. "Hi, Ryan." His voice is normal, eyes start
to clear. He rubs his hands over his face, blinks a few times.

I smile close-mouthed at Ryan. The moment is lost. I can no longer
tell Nick to just go propose. Not with Ruby's brother standing there.

Reality is disappointing.

Any good movie would have gone like so:

NICK: Laurie, I have fallen in love with the most beautiful girl in
the world.

LAUREN: Tina Braxton is already taken.

NICK: I do not know this Tina. I speak of Ruby Palmer, the most
beautiful girl in the world.

LAUREN: You love Ruby?

NICK: Yes. (tearfully) I love Ruby.

LAUREN: Then go tell her so.

NICK: You are a genius, Laurie. Excuse me, I need to ask the most
beautiful girl in the world the most important question I will
ever ask.

LAUREN: You should.

NICK: Before I go, Laurie, will you be Ruby's maid of honor and
allow us the unending delight of naming our future daughter
after you?

LAUREN: With pleasure.

Instead, Nick and Ryan walk into the house and I follow. My toes
are blue, my hands are ice, my face is stiff, and I distinctly smell the lasagna I put in earlier burning in the oven.

Reality stinks.

"Hey, Nutsy! I think dinner's getting toasty!"

I collect myself and walk into the kitchen. Hannah, Ruby, Nick, and Ryan all sit at the table. Brandon leans against the counter. "You couldn't
pull it out?" I ask him, politely because of our guests, but dangerously
because he rests on quicksand.

He gives me a saucy grin. "What, and miss that look?"

This comment elicits chuckles from the table, silent yet tangible
wrath from me. I pull the casserole out of the oven and a bowl of packaged salad from the fridge. "We're doing buffet style, folks," I announce,
tossing a loaf of French bread beside the lasagna.

Nick hasn't looked at Ruby yet. Ruby looks at him both confusedly
(probably because of his hair) and with that wrinkle between her eyes.

He studiously avoids her.

The tension between the two causes a major rift in the natural progression of a thing called conversation.

Silence fills the kitchen. Everyone lines up politely, fills their plates
with food, and settles at the table. All in perfect silence. Ryan prays
shortly over the food. We all start eating.

I pinch Brandon hard on the bicep. "Say something." I hiss
this quietly.

"Uh, yeah, so did anyone catch the Nuggets game this afternoon?"
he shouts.

Hannah's mouth works in a hard attempt to not burst out laughing.
Her eyes are brimming with mirth as she grins. "Brandon, that's the
worst excuse for a conversation I ever heard."

He raises his eyebrows. "Okay, you try."

"I will." She smiles prettily. "Today was my day off and I went and
got a puppy."

My mouth drops open. "Aw! What kind?"

"Just a mutt. From the pound. She's little bitty. Six weeks old."

"Aw!" This time, Ruby and I exclaim together.

"What's her name?" Ruby demands.

Hannah shrugs. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" I gasp. "The poor dog doesn't have a name?"

"I was thinking something like Bitsy."

"Bitsy?" I echo. "Oh, Hannah. You can do better than that."

"Much better," Ruby chimes in.

"What color is she?" I ask.

"Brown."

"Like a taupe or a chocolate?" Ruby asks.

Brandon grins. "Now see, there is a question that no male in his right
mind would ask."

We ignore him.

"What about Cocoa Bean?" Ruby suggests.

Ryan wrinkles his nose. "Cocoa Bean?" he echoes. "Gag, Ruby. Can
you imagine standing in the yard yelling that?"

"Yvonne," Brandon says.

Everyone looks at him.

"What?" I ask, on behalf of the others.

"What about Yvonne?"

I blink.

"Louisa?"

Ruby presses her lips together.

"Doreen."

Hannah gags.

"Boyce?"

By the time dinner is over and we're all pulling on jackets to leave for
Bible study, everyone, even Nick, is laughing and suggesting names.

I grin at Brandon as I pull my coat on. TO borrow an Anne of
Green Gables phrase, we're such kindred spirits, I don't even have to say
thank you.

I ride to Bible study with Hannah. I'm balancing both of our Bibles in my lap and she's talking nonstop about the book of John, where I told
her to start reading.

"It's just so weird to think about," she says, quickly glancing over her
shoulder as she changes lanes. "I'm looking forward to the study tonight.
I just have like this desire to read and study the Bible that I've never had
before. Isn't it weird?"

I only grin at her.

I climb into bed Wednesday night, exhausted. The study was excellent. Nick pulled his act together long enough to teach a fabulous lesson
regarding-what else?-the sovereignty of God. Hannah soaked it up.

I reread Ephesians 1 and decide God is definitely trying to teach
me something. My stomach is still grappling with the whole sovereignty
issue, but I'm getting used to it.

Thursday morning I roll out of bed and land on my to-do list.

Here's what I hate: To-Do Lists. I resent the fact that I cannot function properly without one.

This particular list is scribbled on the back of a napkin from
Vizzini's.

• Make the bed

• Order the barbecue for Saturday family lunch

• Get Ruby to confess how she feels re: Nick

I climb into my clothes, leave my hair down because I decide the au
natural look is in, and walk downstairs to face the scent of lemongrass
tea head-on.

"Honey, I think we should order the barbecue today," Dad says when
I sit at the table.

"On my list," I reply.

He smiles at me. "I like your hair like that, Laurie-girl."

Dad is always good for a compliment.

I arrive at the studio at five after nine. Ruby meets me as I come in
the door. "You're late," she announces, a bit testily.

"You're right." I frown as I study her. She looks awful. Her hair is
yanked back in a short little ponytail haphazardly teetering on the edge
of falling out. She doesn't have any makeup on. And she is wearing a
fairly wrinkled cowgirl shirt and jeans.

Jeans!

Hannah smiles tersely at me from behind Ruby.

"Are you okay?" I ask Ruby.

Hannah shakes her head vehemently, mouthing, "No!"

"I'm fine," Ruby says in a biting tone. "I'm just ticked that you're late.
Laurie, you know we're supposed to get here on time. I needed your help,
and you weren't here to give it."

I pull my coat off. "Well, I'm here now. What can I do?"

"Nothing!" she yells, tossing her hands in the air. "I already did it!"
She exhales loudly and rubs her face.

Something is definitely wrong.

I study her. "Is this about Nick?"

Dumb question. I watch Hannah flinch and cover her eyes
dramatically.

Ruby opens her mouth, then closes it. Then she opens it again.
"What? No, it's not about Nick! This has nothing to do with Nick! This is completely about ..." Her voice trails off and she sinks into one of the
chairs in front of Hannah's desk.

Her face gets very white, and tears fill her eyes.

"Girls," she whispers. She rubs her face again.

I sit beside her, dropping my backpack on the floor. Ruby stills her
hands over her eyes and just breathes in and out slowly. Hannah raises
her eyebrows at me over Ruby's head, and I try hard not to break out
into a huge grin. There seems to be a distinct possibility I can mark off
number three on my list in the next few minutes.

I'm not going to miss this for the world.

Ruby mashes her lips together, starts to speak, then stops again.
"Do you think," she says, finally. "Do you think there's a chance that
Nick...

Stops again.

The silence in the room is so loud it's reverberating in my eardrums.