The Prince Charming List (20 page)

Focus, Heather. This is about Bree.

“So you don’t want to tie yourself down with Riley because you’re worried there might be someone out there who’s better for you.”

“There might be someone out there who’s better for
Riley,
” Bree corrected. “I’ve been away for a year and I’m ninety-nine-percent sure I’ll never find anyone like him. It’s hard to explain. We’re so much alike but we’re different enough to get into a good argument once in a while. One minute he looks at me like I’m from another planet and the next minute he understands exactly what I’m saying—even though I haven’t said a word.”

For some insane reason, an image of Dex flashed in my memory. The night he’d shown up at Annie and Stephen’s when I was babysitting—not to gloat that I’d gotten myself into a messy situation (literally) but to help me.

Jared came over, too. And he brought cake.

He came over after the twins were in bed. When he could have you all to himself.

Where had
that
come from?

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Bree let out a gusty sigh.

“Crazy? No. Not at all.” Not when I was the one with voices arguing back and forth in my head!

“My parents don’t want me to rush into anything and I want to finish school…maybe it isn’t fair to ask him to wait.”

Bree was more concerned about Riley than she was about herself. The authors who wrote those dating books would have cheered if they’d heard her.

Don’t look at what you can get out of a relationship; look at what you can give.

“Maybe he doesn’t mind waiting. Maybe he’s like Jacob, who’d wait seven years to marry you.” Riley seemed like a patient guy. The kind of guy who didn’t care if he made a place for himself in the world, as long as he had a place in Bree’s heart.

“Maybe. I know I would. Neither one of us wants to make a mistake—and we don’t want to hurt each other, either. I don’t think it would be so complicated if we’d met three or four years from now. But we didn’t—so now we have to deal with things the way they are.”

“I thought things were supposed to get
less
complicated when you met The One.”

“I think that’s only if you meet them under the right circumstances. Right age. Right personality. Right job. The right
whatever
.”

I thought about that for a few seconds. “How often do you think that happens?”

“Not very often. Look at our parents. One thing I’m learning about God is that His plan isn’t one-size-fits-all. That’s why Riley and I are praying about it. It’s too big for us to figure out on our own.”

Prayer was something Bree and Riley understood. It was something
Dex
understood. Even if he did use it to make a quick getaway. But was it something that
Jared
understood? I was praying about our relationship, but was he? And did it really matter at this point? We were just getting to know each other. I wasn’t planning to marry him. I wasn’t even planning to fall in love with him. But did anyone
plan
to fall in love? And what if you did fall in love and it was with someone who didn’t understand what it meant to love
God,
then what?

I sucked in a breath, realizing that’s exactly what had happened with Bernice and Alex. Alex had been forced to look for God to figure out who He was and why He was getting in between him and Bernice. Three months later, he’d tracked me down during spring break while I was in Florida and told me how he’d become a believer. It was pretty incredible how it happened.

Bernice had told everyone at her bridal shower that God hadn’t only been with her, He’d gone
ahead
of her. She and Alex had walked away from each other, not knowing they were taking a path that would eventually bring them back together.

But it didn’t always happen that way.

That was the part I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around. We didn’t get to see the future, so how were we supposed to know if we were heading in the right direction? The only thing I knew for sure was that Bree was right—God wasn’t a one-size-fits-all designer; His stuff was tailor-made. Unique. One of a kind. Like snowflakes. And couture.

“Why don’t you like Jared?” I asked suddenly.

It took a few minutes for Bree to answer my question. “I don’t
not
like him. I’m just not sure if I like him for
you
.”

“You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“I don’t know…I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“What are friends for?” I tried to make a joke out of it but Bree looked doubtful. “Look, I’m putting on my game face here. I can take it.”

“Remember—you asked,” Bree said, her expression so serious I was suddenly afraid of what she was going to say. “From the little time we’ve spent with him—it seems like he’s all about himself. His art. His plans. I know one of the reasons you like him is because he sees a bigger world out there, but it’s
his
world. And it doesn’t seem like he lets other people in it unless they can do something for him. You aren’t like that.”

I wanted to argue with Bree but her words scraped away at my own doubts, exposing them. “People can change.”

“I know, but promise me it won’t be
you
.”

T
he conversations I’d had with Bree and Marissa kept me up half the night. Which meant that I slept through my alarm the next morning. It was Snap who finally woke me up by strolling across my face. I hadn’t done laundry for almost a week, so I was working my way through my B-list of clothes and couldn’t find anything I liked. And then I couldn’t find my Bible.

I always had my devotional time with God at the kitchen counter, where I nibbled on my breakfast with a side helping of guilt—thinking it would be more spiritual to have my prayer time in an uncomfortable chair while my empty stomach growled out a praise chorus. But when I took one of Marissa’s plates out of the cupboard, I decided that for once I was going to let myself enjoy my morning conversation with God
and
the bagel He’d provided.

“Snap, did you take my Bible?” I could see her curled up inside Dex’s bookshelf. Her ears twitched and her nose lifted toward the coffee table. There was my Bible. I sighed and went to retrieve it. Dex. He was going to be a missionary, for crying out loud. Didn’t he have a Bible of his own? Which reminded me that I hadn’t checked Haggai for messages in a while.

Sure enough. There was another note and a scripture reference scrawled on a ragged piece of brown paper bag, Dex’s personal brand of stationery. He’d answered my question—are you talking about me?

Not you. Priorities.

It made me feel a little bit better that he wasn’t singling me out. I glanced at the reference. Matthew 6:33. That sounded familiar. I flipped to it.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Righteousness was a heart thing, right? Something that happened on the inside. If Dex hadn’t written the message before I’d talked to Marissa, I would have accused him of eavesdropping on our conversation. Her words had stuck with me like a song that kept playing over and over in my head.

I tapped the pen against my teeth. It was weird that Dex was verbally challenged but managed to get his point across perfectly with one simple verse. I grudgingly decided he might be a good missionary.

Okay, God, I’m going to take a break from asking You to show me what You want me to do with my life. I’m just going to ask You what You want to do in
my
life today.

I thumbed through my Bible to find a piece of paper so I could write back to Dex and that’s when I noticed something was missing. The List.

I paged frantically through the Song of Songs. Nothing. I even shook my Bible—gently—upside down and watched old church bulletins fall like confetti onto the carpet. No list.

“It has to be here somewhere,” I muttered. The last time I’d seen it had been during the worship service on Sunday, when I’d been cruising through the Old Testament toward Isaiah. Maybe it had somehow fallen out and been disposed of by one of the ushers, who straightened up the sanctuary after church. I could accept that. My name wasn’t on it, so even if someone had read it, they couldn’t trace it back to me. It was certainly better than the alternative.

That Dex had taken it.

When I rushed down to the Cut and Curl, now officially seven minutes late, there was a box on the sidewalk outside the door of the salon. Kaylie walked up just as I was examining it.

“What’s that?”

“I have no idea.” I anchored it against my hip and unlocked the door. “Maybe it’s the samples of the all-natural sunscreen I ordered last week.”

It wasn’t. It was a box of crepe paper.

“I wonder what this is for.”

Kaylie peered over my shoulder. “I think it’s for the float.”

“What float?”

“For the Fourth of July parade on Saturday. I’m pretty sure the Cut and Curl always enters a float. Some city organization judges the parade and there are different categories. The most beautiful. The funniest. The most patriotic.”

How about a category for
the one that’s thrown together at the last minute?

“Kaylie, it’s
Thursday
. No one mentioned anything about a float.” Not that I’d talked to Bernice recently, but I was pretty sure she would have warned me about a parade. Especially if I was supposed to enter a float.

“I’ll help you.”

“You will?” I’d been praying for an opportunity to spend more time with Kaylie, but why did it have to be
this
weekend? I still wasn’t sure I was going to ditch Jared. I’d already let him down once and I was hesitant to do it again, just in case he didn’t change his mind about spending Saturday in the park, watching the horseshoe tournament.

“Sure.” She wouldn’t look at me now. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Don’t we need a truck or something?” I was grasping at excuses.

“It depends on the theme. We could pick something simple. Sometimes people just dress up in costumes and walk along the parade route.”

I scraped up some enthusiasm because I didn’t want to let her down. “Okay, we’ll do it.”

The rest of the day, Kaylie and I called out possible slogans to each other.

The Cut and Curl—when you’re dyeing for a change.

Cut out bad hair days for good.

By closing time, we’d laughed our way through half a dozen ideas that might win first prize in the Lamest Slogan category.

“Nothing too crazy. Whatever we decide, we both have to be able to show our faces in church the next morning,” I reminded her.

Kaylie didn’t say anything for a few minutes and I figured she was brainstorming more ideas.

“I thought I could be the creative genius
behind
the float.”

“No way. If I have to walk down Main Street dressed like a giant curling iron, so do you.”

“Maybe we should just forget about it. You’re right, we don’t have a lot of time to come up with something.”

As excited as Kaylie was about the float, she’d planned to sit on the sidelines. Again. I wanted to hug her. And shake her until her teeth rattled. “Why are you changing your mind? With our brilliant ideas, we could win first prize.”

She looked down, something she hadn’t been doing as often as she had when she’d first started working at the salon. “Then we better enter the
funniest
category instead of most beautiful. We’ll never get that one if I’m in it.”

Kaylie!

I took a deep breath and prayed for wisdom. And patience. The words that spilled out of me didn’t sound wise or patient.

“You shouldn’t have surgery, Kaylie. Not if that’s the way you feel.”

“What are you talking about?” She looked like I’d just slapped her. And maybe I had—unintentionally.

“If you get the birthmark removed, you think your life will automatically change, but it won’t. You’ll just find something else to focus on. Something else will make you insecure. You’ve let that birthmark control you for years—maybe people don’t feel comfortable around you because you’re not comfortable with yourself. You have to know that your value isn’t based on what you look like on the outside.”

She glared at me, bringing the tears in her eyes to a boiling point. “That’s easy to say when you’re
beautiful
.”

“It’s not easy to say
ever
. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a mouth that’s too wide. A chin that’s too pointed. The only thing I really like is my nose.” I took a breath and forced myself to slow down. “And, Kaylie, you
are
beautiful. Whether you have the surgery or not, that’s what you need to believe because that’s what
God
says. If you don’t believe Him for that now, the surgery won’t make any difference.”

I sank into the chair next to her. I hadn’t meant to come on so strong—but once the words started, I couldn’t stop them. Story of my life.

“I didn’t mean to preach at you.” This is why I had a shampoo chair in my “office” instead of a couch. I was a rotten counselor.

She sniffled. “Yes, you did. But that’s okay. You’re kind of good at it.”

“So…I’m
right?
”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh.”

“I’m kidding.” She actually smiled. And sniffled again. “You were on a roll there.”

I groaned. “I’m sorry. Women come in here all day, hoping that a new hairstyle will make them a new person. I want them to make the most of what they have—not wish they had something else. I get a little crazy…” I stumbled over the word as another one flashed through my mind.

Passionate
.

No, that described people like Marissa. And Annie. People with a calling. I could add Dex to the mix. Which was even more depressing.

“I want the surgery. I’m sick of being two people,” Kaylie said, swiping tears away with the back of her hand. “I’m not even sure which one’s me.”

“I hate to break this to you, but you aren’t the only one who feels that way. Let God work on your inside first and then you’ll know what to do about the outside.”

“I think the surgery might be easier.”

She was right. But maybe because she’d acknowledged it, I knew when the time came, she’d make the right decision about whether to have the birthmark removed. “Kaylie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just…I consider you a friend. And I can’t stand to see you hide yourself away from people.”

I thought about Bree and how her honesty had stung.

Faithful are the wounds of a friend,
wasn’t that what the verse in Proverbs said?

“I know. Believe me, I’m tired of it, too.” Kaylie caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and slumped forward. “I can’t go home yet. Mom is going to know something’s wrong.”

“I know what you need.”

“Potato chips?”

“Nope. Better. Come on, Cinderella. Your fairy godmother knows how to give an awesome manicure.”

I grabbed Kaylie’s hand and dragged her toward the little table by the dryers.

“I bite my nails.”

“Not after I’m finished with them. You’d break a tooth.”

I pushed Kaylie’s fingers into a dish to soak while I looked for the perfect color of nail polish. “What do you think of this one? It’s called April Showers and—”

“I have an idea for the float.”

Suddenly, I knew what was coming and it was going to involve yards of taffeta. “We’re going to walk down Main Street dressed like bottles of nail polish?”

“Cinderella—getting ready for the ball. We can come up with a cute slogan of some kind. But we’re going to need a horse. And a carriage.”

“No problem.” I had Bree.

“And a prince.”

Now it was getting complicated. Mmm. Riley. Getting him into hose would be tough, though. I’d have to have Bree put some pressure on him. Maybe flip her hair again. “Check. So which one do you want to be? Cinderella or her fairy godmother?”

“Cinderella wears a mask to the ball, right?”

“Not that I remember.” I saw the expression on Kaylie’s face.
One step at a time, right, Lord?
“But I don’t see why she couldn’t. Just this once.”

My cell phone rang and Jared’s name came up on the screen. I couldn’t prevent doing a little tap dance around the kitchen.

“Hi.”

“There’s a farm wagon blocking the alley.”

I winced. “I know. I parked it there.”

“
You
did?”

“I found out yesterday that the Cut and Curl has to have a float in the parade, so Kaylie and I are going to be decorating it tonight. I promise it’ll be gone by the time you wake up in the morning.” I anchored the phone between my ear and my shoulder and shook a can of gourmet cat food onto Snap’s dish.

It had been a challenge finding something to transform into Cinderella’s carriage. Every tractor, truck and flatbed had already been commandeered for the parade. Even Bree’s dad had lent out the buggy Elise had ridden in last summer for the parade given in her honor when she’d finaled in the Proverbs 31 Pageant. Riley had finally come through for us, but the wagon wedged in the alley looked more like something that had broken down on the Oregon Trail than Cinderella’s coach.

“So this means you’re staying in town for the Fourth?”

“It looks like it.”

“I was hoping you’d change your mind.”

I was hoping you’d change yours.

“We could use some help tonight. You’re an artist—I’ll bet you can make great crepe paper roses.” I was nothing if not single-minded in my attempts to get Jared to discover the blessings of serving others.

“I have to work late tonight. The mayor informed me there’s going to be an official unveiling of Junebug at the end of August. Nice of them to put me on a time schedule, wasn’t it?” His sarcasm burned my ear. “I tried to tell her the foundry can’t cast it until late November, but she said they’re going to have it anyway
because no one’s going to stand outside in the park and freeze their toes off in November to see a statue of Lester’s cow when they can drive by his farm in their nice warm cars and see her in person.
”