Never the Bride (11 page)

“What I would’ve given for Him to have gotten into mine.”

“You believe in God?”

“After two divorces and a midlife crisis, you start thinking that maybe the way you’re doing it isn’t working.” He lowers his voice. “And, ma’am, I’m not trying to be offensive here, but you’re displaying some behaviors that might benefit from seeing a doctor.”

I roll my eyes. If he only knew.

“All right, let’s get you on your feet.” He stands, pulls me up by the arm, and gestures for the tire iron, which I pull out and hand to him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can—”

“You’re arresting me?”

Garrety raises up his hands the way I raise up my hands when Brooklyn says something unbelievable. “You did just break into a church. And the evidence was just sticking out of your shirt there. So my hands are tied. Sorry.” Except as he cuffs me, it’s my hands that are tied.

Lakeland returns. “Nothing appears to be missing. We’re trying to get ahold of the pastor.”

“I didn’t take anything!”

“All right, ma’am, just remain calm,” Lakeland says. I take one last look at the pen I’m leaving behind before they walk me out the front door of the church and put me in the squad car.

“I hope he’s worth it!” I yell at God, but the only one who hears me is Garrety who shoots me a look indicating I should seriously consider getting a doctor.

I’ve actually never been to jail. At least for something I’ve done. I’ve bailed Brooklyn out four times. Once I let her spend the night in there, just to give her a reality check. But now—as I lie on the cold metal bench, staring at a molded, rotting ceiling—I suddenly feel very bad about doing that.

The place reeks of urine, pot, and other unmentionables. I breathe shallowly through my mouth, and stare hard at the ceiling like it’s the face of God. How could He let this happen? I was there obeying
Him.
Doing what
He
asked. I contemplate this for hours while hoping Blake checks his voice mail. I contemplated calling Brooklyn but decided I’d rather get harassed by Blake. My thoughts return to God, me, and the purple pen.

“And I get thrown in jail for it?”

Oops. Said that out loud, which causes the only other person in
the holding cell with me to look over. Ugh. She’s wasted, with greasy hair and an expression that indicates she’d like to converse.

“That’s what I said.” The woman shrugs. “I mean, where does it say I can’t pass out on a sidewalk, you knoowww?” A sloppy grin emerges.

I sit up and turn my back to her, bringing my knees close to my chest. All this over a stupid purple pen, which is now
not
in my possession. Perhaps I’m the only person to get thrown in jail for possession of nothing.

Well, I did break into the church—but seriously, should a church
really
have locks? I mean, isn’t that counterproductive?

I hear keys rattle and turn to see Garrety unlocking the cell. I jump to my feet, and he waves me over. I glance at my cellmate, but she’s passed out again and about to fall off the bench.

“Thank you!” I say, stepping out of the cell. “That was so disgusting!”

“Keep that in mind next time you decide to do something crazy, okay, Speedy?” Garrety says.

“I only went speed dating once.” This month.

“Uh-huh.” Garrety locks the cell and leads me down the hall. “By crazy, I meant breaking into the church.”

“Oh, right.” I wanted to add that’s only touching on crazy, but I’m more concerned about getting out of here. Garrety gives me my tire iron and keys back, and I sign a few papers. He nods to something behind me. I look around and it’s Blake, laughing it up with the female officer at the desk.

“Now there’s a nice fellow,” Garrety says quietly. “Good looking. Comes to get you out of jail. Why not some guy like that?”

“Yes. Why not?” I glance at the ceiling hoping God is eavesdropping on this conversation. Blake must have noticed us, because when I look back at him, he is watching me, grinning like he’s just been given the right to harass me for the rest of my life.

Garrety reaches out to shake my hand. “Stay out of trouble, you hear?”

I shake his hand. “Yes. Thank you, Officer.” I turn and walk toward Blake, who is chuckling. “Shut up,” I say as I walk through the front doors of the station. The morning light screams at me, and I block it with my hand. I really want to sleep.

Blake scrambles behind me, laughing out loud now.

I walk quickly toward the car, which is parked at the curb. “I said shut up! Thanks for coming to get me. But shut up.”

He opens the car door for me and notices the tire iron. This causes even more laughter.

I get in as quickly as I can. “‘Shut up’ includes insidious laughter over my most inconvenient predicament.”

“Hey. I’m the one that came and bailed you out. And sorry, I just got your message. I was asleep.” He shuts my door, then goes around and gets in, the laughter cranking up again. Finally, his laughter settles. “Jessie, seriously, what were you doing?”

I hold my hand up. “Talk to my Fifth Amendment.”

“What were you doing?”

I drop my hand into my lap. “Nothing. Now, can you take me back to my condo so I can change and come up with some clever excuse for being late to work?”

He starts the car. “Nothing, huh? Excuse me for stating the obvious,
but you don’t break into a church in the middle of the night for nothing.”

“I’m a woman. In case you didn’t notice. I don’t have to make sense.”

He grins. It’s so unfair when he does that. I can’t be mad at him when his dimples show. I cross my arms, though, and hunker down in my seat.

Blake whistles for a few minutes and then says, “Wasn’t that your parents’ church?”

“Yes.” I look out the window. I don’t want to talk about this.

“So…what were you doing there?”

I don’t answer.

“The officer said you were rehearsing for a wedding or something.” A chuckle escapes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, you’re not.”

“Da, dum, da, dum.”

I try not to smile. “Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?”

“You love me. Admit it.” Dimples.

I laugh—I can’t help it—and then notice we’re heading north. “Where are we going?”

“Just settle down. I paid two hundred dollars to get you out of jail, and that means I choose where we go.”

“I need to get my car back, get changed, and get to work.”

“You’re going to be playing hooky for a while.”

“I can’t play hooky! I have responsibilities, Blake. People are depending on my dependability.”

“Yeah, well, you can explain to them how those wonderful character traits landed you in jail. Later. Right now, I’ve got something to show you.”

“Another blondie?”

He shoots me a look. “Careful. My shallow-itis is contagious.”

Stung.

“Besides, what are you cracking on me for?” he asks. “Clay Matthews was a blond.”

“You know,” I say, rubbing my temples, “I’ve had a bad enough night without you bringing that jerk up.”

“I’m just saying, Clay Matthews was a blond.”

“Clay Matthews was the punk who
left me
for a blonde.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I never did understand what you saw in that guy.”

I close my eyes, my head resting against the seat. “His name was Clay. I thought he’d be more moldable.”

Blake laughs. I love when he gets my jokes. “So, the perfect husband search—how’s that going for you?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s going fab—” My ear is tickled, and I swipe at it. “Stop touching my ear!”

“I’m not touching your ear.”

I glance behind me. There
He
is, with my feather pen, about to tickle my ear again. He winks. “I am
so
not talking to You!” I say, giving Him a hard look.

“What?” Blake says, glancing at me. “What did I say?”

I turn and face forward, trying to calm myself. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t actually, um, talking to you. I mean…I was just letting off some steam.”

My ear is tickled from the backseat again, and He says, “Don’t be mad. I’m gifted at turning bad into good.”

“Whatever! What are you, um, going to show me, Blake?”

Blake glances at me and shakes his head. “You’ll see.” Then he smiles. “So, back to the perfect husband hunt. You’re one and a half months into the new year. What are you waiting for?” Blake asks.

“That, my friend, is a great question. What
am
I waiting for?” I nod toward Blake, hoping
He’ll
get a clue.

Blake starts in on some diatribe about how women put too much pressure on men to be perfect, which gives me a chance to turn around in my seat.

God smiles at me. “You left this at My house.” The purple pen is tucked in His pocket, barely showing out the top.

My eyes narrow. He knows I can’t say anything with Blake in the car.

“So,” He continues, “no filling up journals with your grand ideas about this story anymore. But, I do need you to start blogging online.”

Blogging? I turn back around in my seat, facing forward—or, more accurately, away from Him. I detest bloggers. Blogging is like going to a party where everyone is that one guy who has an opinion about everything. Ugh. If I blog, I’m going to have to take back all those nasty things I’ve said about bloggers.

Sigh. Well, at least I probably won’t get arrested for it.

We’ve wound our way up the side of a mountain that overlooks Santa Barbara. This used to be where we’d hang out sometimes as teenagers. I try to admire the view, because it’s breathtaking, but I’m fighting the imaginary conversation I have going on in my head with Mr. Coston—while also fighting off the attention of the possibly nonimaginary friend in the backseat, who is now dangling my purple pen.

“It’s just up there,” Blake says, pointing. We turn into a neighborhood filled with magnificent, never-in-my-lifetime homes.

“This is the development our company has been working on for a year. They should be ready in about four months. Most of them are sold.”

“What? Building shelves for Veronica lost its luster?”

Blake’s smile fades. He actually looks a little wounded, and I regret my sharp tongue. “Yeah. That didn’t quite go over. She and her new
husband
are opening that shop. The one whose last name she hadn’t taken on yet. Oh, but she will. In case you were worried.”

“I wasn’t. Sorry.”

He shrugs. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” Blake hops out of the car.

I quickly turn to the backseat. “The story that You’re writing for me—it could be a very short assignment for You, You know.” I nod toward Blake as he rounds the back of the car.

God raises an eyebrow.

I smile innocently as I open the door to the car. “Here’s what You need to write:
Blake wakes up to Jessie’s irresistible charms.
Does that sound easy? No rewrites necessary.”

God smirks. “Charm. Yeah, you were really charming back there. As charming as an ulcer.”

“Hey! I thought You were loving and all that.” I glance at Blake, who is already at the front door of the house.

“I am. Now go.” God shoos me out the door. “He’s here to show you something special. Maybe you should pay attention to that rather than hair color, which is really beginning to become an obsession with you.”

“Jess, come on!” Blake yells.

“Okay. I’m going. You stay in the car. You are very distracting!”

I follow the stone driveway up to the house, which is nothing short of stunning. The scene takes my breath away. The house overlooks the water. The sun is shining straight through the unfinished walls.

“What do you think?” Blake asks as he gestures toward the front.

“Amazing. This is really great, Blake.”

He grins. “I know! Come inside!”

I shove my hands in my pockets, only to discover…my purple pen. Huh? “Um, yeah, I’ll be there in just a sec. I left something in the car.” I race back to the car, open the door, and slide in. I turn to the backseat, but it’s empty. “Are You here?”

No answer. I look back to the house and gasp. There He is! Inside the unfinished house! I hurry back up the driveway only to run into Blake inside. “What do you think? This is where the living room is, with a double-sided fireplace. The other side is the kitchen. Want to see?”

“Definitely. For sure. Just give me a sec to, um, you know, look around. I want to get the big picture.”

Blake smiles proudly and nods. I hurry off. Man, this house must be, like, three thousand square feet or something. “Wow!” I yell. “Man, this is enormous! Love the layout!” I hurry through the rooms, glancing into closets and bathrooms. I turn and nearly run into Him.

“Hi,” He smiles. “Looking for someone?”

“Funny. I thought I told You to stay in the car.”

“Yes, well, I’m working on your bossy side. You probably won’t
believe this, but not once in the history of the world have I actually taken orders from a human.”

I bite my lip. “Sorry. I see your point. I just forget because You look…well, You know.”

“Cute?”

“Um. Yes. That’s the word I wasn’t looking for.”

He gestures to Himself. “It’s just something I borrowed for the occasion.”

I laugh. “You’re funny.” I take the pen out of my pocket. “I got arrested trying to give this to You. You can’t give it right back.”

He doesn’t reach for the pen but instead gestures around Him. “So, what do you think of this house? Needs a few more walls, some paint. You like chartreuse?”

“Okay, let’s stay on point here. I am being abundantly cooperative. Time to do Your part. Write, write, write.”

“Wouldn’t take much to make it a home. It’s missing your veranda, though.”

I relent and glance around a little, taking in the fresh sawdust smell, which I actually love. “And double front doors, chandelier in the foyer, an office overlooking the water, and a porch swing.” I wave my hands. “You’re getting me off track here.”

He’s looking at me in a way that makes me think I should, perhaps, do some internal searching.

I sigh. “Okay. So I made a
light
suggestion to You. Sorry. But don’t You agree? Wouldn’t Blake be the perfect match? Just picture our photo albums.”