The Icing on the Cake (16 page)

“You’re welcome.” Isaac flashed me an adorable smile.

When Isaac had gone, I wandered into the living room with my glass in hand and sat down on the couch. I fumbled through a stack of magazines on the coffee table: sports magazines, photography magazines, the
Ensign
.

I had just begun reading an
Ensign
article when Isaac strolled into the living room and sat down next to me on the couch. “You look so beautiful sitting here reading the
Ensign
,” he said in a low voice.

I closed the magazine and batted my eyelashes playfully.

“So, are you up to a game of tennis?” Isaac asked.

“I’m not exactly dressed for tennis,” I answered quickly.

Isaac looked over at my khaki pants—a pair I got a fabulous deal on at an outlet store—and black knit top. “We’ll just hit the ball around a little,” he said.

“Okay,” I relented with a weak smile.

“Great, I’ll go get the rackets,” Isaac said, rising from the couch.

As Isaac rummaged through a nearby hall closet, my eyes turned to the stone fireplace located front and center in the room. I let my mind wander and began imagining me and Isaac sitting in front of the fireplace, holding hands and talking about everything, sipping the most delicious hot cocoa with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, and . . .

Above the fireplace, I noticed a black and white photograph of a farm worker dressed in a button down shirt and a cowboy hat. He was leaning against an old truck. In the background, Watsonville strawberry fields stretched out with no visible end. It was really an amazing photograph. I got up from my seat and stood in front of the fireplace, looking up at the photo.

“Did you take this?” I asked Isaac when he came to my side, rackets in hand.

“I sure did,” Isaac answered.

“You have a way of capturing people,” I said, continuing to admire the photo.

“People are my favorite subjects. When a person inspires me, I capture a moment in their life, so I can remember.”

I narrowed my eyes pensively and thought about Isaac’s comment. I wasn’t a photographer, but I did the same thing with my Pink Notes. I captured people, so I could remember them. So I could remember the impact they had on me.

I turned and looked at Isaac. “I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

Following my words, there was a thick silence and the air in the room seemed to grow extremely hot. Wordlessly, Isaac looked into my eyes and put his arms around me gently. He pulled me close to him, and my heart began to beat heavy in my chest. I wondered if he was going to kiss me. I closed my eyes and waited for what was going to happen.

Knock, Knock, Knock
.

Isaac and I both jumped at the sound of a knock at the door. Isaac quickly released me and cleared his throat as he walked to the door. I was curious to see who I could blame for interrupting our moment, but my view of who was at the door was blocked by a large wall.

“Come on in,” I heard Isaac say. “I just have to go get the photos.”

I heard the door close, and seconds later I was standing face to face with the interrupter.

None other than Rona Bircheck.

“Annabelle,” Rona said, surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”

I couldn’t speak. I could barely think. Yet another me-and-Isaac moment ruined by Rona Bircheck. It was like she planned it. In what had become a reflex reaction, I looked at Rona’s left hand—no ring. Why wasn’t she wearing it?

“Annabelle and I were just about to play a game of tennis,” Isaac said, responding to Rona’s question.

I glared at Isaac. He made it sound so nonchalant. Like we were just two buddies about to play a good ole game of tennis. How could he sound so casual after we maybe almost kissed?

“How nice,” Rona responded slowly.

“I’ll be right back,” Isaac said, glancing at the two of us.

I nodded woodenly.

Rona smiled.

Rona and I stood in silence as Isaac disappeared to retrieve the photos he was apparently going to give to Rona. The time passed excruciatingly.

“So, have you found a caterer?” Rona asked, obviously unable to deal with the silence.

“I’ve looked into some,” I answered.

Another long silence followed.

Finally, Isaac returned, carrying a stack of photos. I saw the first one on the stack: a house big and fancy enough to be a hotel.

Rona flipped through the pictures. “These are great, Isaac. I just may have you replace my photographer permanently.”

Isaac’s face lit up. “I’m glad you like them.”

I clenched my jaw tightly and tried to push the unkind thoughts I was having toward Rona out of my mind using the trusty old think-of-a-hymn technique.
Put your shoulder to the wheel, push along.
The tune sounded in my mind. Only that wasn’t a very good choice of song, because I immediately had a vision of Rona struggling to push a handcart, and me adding extremely heavy rocks to it when she wasn’t looking.

The three of us stood awkwardly for a moment. I smiled inside when I noticed that Isaac was standing much closer to me than to Rona. I know, I’m horrible.

Then Rona turned toward the door to go. “I guess I had better go. Unless . . .”

No. No unless. Stick with “I had better go,”
I thought desperately.

“Unless you could use a third person for your tennis game.”

“It’s Annabelle’s call,” Isaac replied, looking at me.

I groaned to myself. Of course I couldn’t say no now. I mean, I’d look like a total jerk. I could endure Rona for one lousy tennis game.

“Fine by me,” I said, looking directly at Rona. I was determined not to let her know she was getting to me.

“Great. I’ll go grab another racket,” Isaac said with enthusiasm before jogging down the hall.

He was adorable. He was kind. He was artistic. And he was as dense as Monterey Bay fog in November. Didn’t he know that you don’t invite one girl over and maybe almost kiss her and then let another girl play tennis with you and the girl you were maybe almost about to kiss?

Obviously not
, I thought when Isaac returned with the third racket.

“How do you want to coordinate this?” Isaac asked. He opened a brand new container of tennis balls and bounced each ball, one after the other, on the deep green surface of the court.

“Why don’t you two play and I’ll watch?” I suggested. I might as well use Rona’s untimely appearance to get me out of playing tennis.

“I don’t think so,” Isaac said, smiling. “How about we play girls against guy?”

I glanced at Rona. “Okay,” I agreed quickly, still keeping up the of-course-Rona-isn’t-bothering-me pretense. “That is, as long as it’s okay with you,” I said to Rona.

“Okay,” Rona concurred.

We all took our places on the court, and I bent at the knees the way I had seen tennis players do on TV. I hoped this made me look like I knew what I was doing. I’m not quite sure it did though, because Rona gave me a strange look.

Isaac served first, and what followed was a long rally between Rona and Isaac. Rona was both powerful and graceful on the court. She buzzed beside me, behind me, and even in front of me as she returned each of Isaac’s hits. Finally, Isaac hit a ball that was clearly out of Rona’s reach.

“It’s yours!” Rona called out to me.

I saw the ball whizzing toward me and although I knew all about the importance of the phrase, “Keep your eye on the ball,” I shut my eyes in a reflex reaction. I mean, the thing had to be going at least sixty miles per hour. With eyes closed, I swung the racket as hard as I could.

Then I heard a beautiful sound: the sound of the racket hitting the ball. I opened my eyes to see how the rest played out. The ball flew toward Isaac and he hit it back to our side. It landed about a foot out of bounds.

“Our point,” Rona announced.

I jumped up and down, much too excited over one point.

“Nice shot, Annabelle!” Isaac called out across the net.

Then, in a moment of I-just-made-a-point-in-tennis induced insanity, I put my hand out toward Rona for a high five. Reluctantly, she clapped her hand to mine.

I took a second before I served the ball to think about what was going on. Rona and I were playing tennis. Together. On the same team. And I had just given her a high five. And, come to think of it, she didn’t really seem to be making a play for Isaac. Perhaps it was time to let bygones be bygones. Bury the hatchet. Time for Britney and Christina to sing a duet.

I attempted to serve and faulted. I tried again and faulted again. I glanced at Rona, and she didn’t look too pleased.

So, again it was Isaac’s serve, and again it was the Isaac and Rona show. I watched as the two of them hit the ball back and forth. Then, since I wasn’t getting any hits, my mind left the game for a second. Of course, it was at that precise second that a ball headed straight toward me.

“Look out!” Rona shouted.

But it was too late.

The ball hit me right smack in the mouth, and the shock of the impact made me lose my footing, and I went tumbling to the ground.

Isaac came rushing toward me. “What happened?” Isaac asked Rona.

“I must have gotten a bad spin on the ball,” Rona answered.

Wait a minute!
Rona was the one who hit me? I was confused.

“Are you all right, Annabelle?” Isaac asked, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I replied, standing up. My favorite khakis were torn, revealing cut knees, and I could taste blood in my mouth. But worse than all of that, I felt like a complete idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Rona said.

“It’s cool,” I responded. But inside I was pretty miffed. It didn’t look like a coincidence that the ball she hit had smacked me in the mouth, leaving me looking like a complete mess while she was looking flawless. Even the sweat on her face made her look all glistening and gorgeous. I’m not exactly saying Rona hit me on purpose. But I don’t know. “A bad spin on the ball”? It sounds a little iffy if you ask me.

Isaac helped me as I limped into the house. Rona followed behind us. Isaac led me to a spacious bathroom with shiny fixtures, a dark blue shower curtain, and dark blue towels. I sat on the lid of the toilet and rolled up my pants.

Seeing my bleeding knees, Isaac immediately began searching the medicine cabinet for some disinfectant and bandages. He then went to fetch an ice pack for my mouth.

When Isaac had gone, I stood up slowly and inspected myself in the bathroom mirror. My mouth was already beginning to swell. My makeup was running. My clothes and hair were in shambles.

Isaac returned with the ice pack while I was still staring in the mirror. I looked away from my reflection and said, “I think I’m going to go home.”

Isaac moved close to me. “Please don’t go. I was hoping you would stay for dinner.”

I was about to ask Isaac if he was planning on asking Rona to stay for dinner as well when Rona appeared in the bathroom doorway and said she was going to leave.

“Bye, Annabelle,” Rona said cautiously. “I’m really sorry.” I listened for signs of remorse. I wasn’t sure if I could detect any or not. Of course, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not sure I wanted to.

“Don’t worry about it,” I responded with a wave.

I sat down on the toilet again and began disinfecting my knees while Isaac walked Rona to the door. I strained to hear how the two of them said good-bye to each other, but Isaac’s house was too big for that kind of eavesdropping, and I finally gave up.

When Isaac returned to the bathroom, I was rubbing my hands over my once beautiful, now torn khakis.

“I have something you can change into,” Isaac said.

I looked at Isaac who was much taller, and much more muscular than I. “Nothing you have is going to fit me.”

“True. But that’s what drawstrings are for,” Isaac said with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

When Isaac was gone, I smoothed my hair and made it into a knot at the base of my neck. I rinsed my face with cool water, removing traces of blood and makeup at the same time.

Isaac returned carrying a pair of flannel drawstring pajama pants that were still in the package. “My mom bought these for me for Christmas, but they’re too small for me.” Isaac handed me the package.

The pants may have been too small for Isaac, but they still looked huge to me. I decided, however, that I preferred huge to holey and bloody.

Isaac left me alone to change, and after a few moments of securing the pants so they wouldn’t fall off, I emerged from the bathroom and found Isaac waiting in the living room.

Isaac looked me over. “You look adorable,” he said.

I humored him by giving him a spin, knowing full well that I looked ridiculous and not adorable.