The Designated Twin

7. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Finley

“You sure about this? I’m all for surprises, but don’t forget you sometimes learn things you don’t want to when you try to surprise someone.” Mason, my roommate, gathers his Bible before patting his jean pockets. “Ah, here’s my wallet.”

“Do you know something that I don’t? Is there some reason I shouldn’t surprise Lucy at church this morning?”

I glance around the kitchen island until I find my cup of tea and my Bible. I open it and glance at the picture of my family printed on the inside cover. My mamma’s neat handwriting dedicating the Bible to me upon my fifteenth birthday is underneath the photo. I should get an English Bible, but this one holds a special place in my heart. The fact that it’s in Korsan makes it difficult to follow along sometimes as my brain short-circuits on which language I should be thinking in, but I love this Bible too much and enjoy having it with me.

“Not at all. I’m actually glad you’re finally coming,” Mason responds. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel while I wear a polo and khaki pants. Mamma would screech at me for showing up to church in anything less than a suit and tie, but here in Mississippi, I’d get mistaken for the pastor.

I snap my Bible closed and take a sip of green tea. “As am I. It was hectic with the move prior, and then I was gone to Korsa. Now feels like the perfect time.”

Mason grins and waggles his brows. “It’s always for a girl, am I right?”

“She’s a benefit, I suppose.” Yes, I am anxious to see Lucy Spence again. The more I let the date Friday night marinate in my mind, the more I realized just how grand of a time I had. I found myself daydreaming of the excited inflection in her voice as she rambled on about random facts. Her eyes starred in my sleeping dreams. The way she avoided my kiss at the end of the night…

“Dudes, y’all are going to stick out like a sore thumb,” Mason says, and I follow his gaze to Gabriel and Anders sporting their typical all-black suits. Both men, about ten years older than me, reside in this cabin with me and Mason; Father insisted I keep PPOs around me at all times while I’m here for the next three months since my status and future shifted with one sentence out of my brother’s mouth while I was home last month.

Needless to say, it’s getting too crowded and stuffy here. My precious peaceful and carefree life has come to an abrupt end.

“You American men should dress nicer. Especially for church,” Gabriel huffs in his French accent. His brawny figure does not pair with his higher, snooty voice. But the man can probably kill someone a thousand different ways.

Anders, a tall, lean Korsan man and long-term friend of my family, shrugs. “I do not typically like to agree with Gabriel, but he’s right on the money.” His accent is much thicker than mine, which has all but disappeared with all my time in the States and traveling to other parts of the world.

“Please only monitor from outside the church, and don’t be suspicious. Do what you do best and hide well,” I tell them both. The last thing I need is to give Lucy a reason to be suspicious over me. No, she needs to think I’m a plain guy who chose to study abroad and fell in love with the country. I want a woman to fall for me. Not my title. That’s why so many of my relationships in the past have failed.

Mason laughs, and the two men glare at him. Gabriel and Anders bicker back and forth often, but they both agree that Mason Kane and his southern ways gets under their skin.

“Let’s get going, man. Don’t want to be late.” Mason claps my back, then we exit our little cabin. He climbs into his lifted Tundra while I slide into my 1969 Mustang, and I momentarily miss my collector cars back in Korsa. I had this one shipped to me back when I was in South Carolina, but it doesn’t need any work.

I miss working on cars. Will I have time to regale in my hobby once I’m king?

Gabriel and Anders trail me in the blacked-out sedan. Glancing past my PPOs in my rear view, I watch the cabin grow smaller. This place was once Braxton’s, but he let Mason and I stay in it after he married and moved in with Hadley. Mason’s house is almost finished, so he will be moving out soon. I have less than three months before I’m summoned back to Korsa for good…

The drive to the church isn’t long. Spring has made its way to the little town, and flowers are blooming on the sides of the road. Once we arrive, we park in the little lot and enter the red brick building. I say a small prayer that my PPOs go unnoticed. I don’t want to have to explain why two men in black suits are following me around.

I’m given a brief tour from Mason, who started attending the church alongside his fiancée after they got engaged last month. The layout is simple: a sanctuary, a gym-slash-fellowship area out behind the sanctuary, and a side wing for Sunday school classes. That’s the entirety of the place. It isn’t much to look at, and it still retains old-fashioned pews and carpeted floors, but based on the warm greetings, hugs, and bright smiles, the people seem to be what make it an important and sacred building within this community.

But there’s no sign of Lucy yet.

“Where’re you from, Finley? You gotta little accent,” an older lady who introduced herself as Netty asks as she sips her coffee from a small styrofoam cup. Mason and I stand around in a group of older men and women, all of them tuning into me.

“A tiny island country called Korsa tucked between England and Norway.”

“Huh. What brought’cha here to Juniper Grove?”

As if invited by my very thoughts of her, though she isn’t the reason I came to this area—Hadley did say she wanted me to meet Lucy, but I had no clue how that would turn out at the time—Lucy enters the fellowship room followed by a woman whose appearance is just like her but with bangs. Though identical in their faces and builds, the two present a stark contrast to one another in countenance. Lucy is taking my breath away in a dark gray pencil skirt with a white buttoned blouse tucked in, a pair of white sneakers on her feet. Though her clothing is business and plain, she looks like she should be on the cover of Time magazine. Her low, curly ponytail hardly swishes as she walks, her gait regal all in itself. Mamma would be remiss to not approve of her mannerism.

Her twin, Lorelei, on the other hand, is wearing a baby blue peplum dress (thanks, Astrid, for educating me on women’s style) with white block heels, her curls and bangs bouncing with every step. She’s beautiful, no doubt, but she doesn’t carry that same refined air that her sister does. Maybe it’s the swollen black eye throwing her off. Ouch, that actually looks painful.

The ladies wave and greet people on the other side of the fellowship hall, and I impatiently wait for Lucy’s eyes to fall on me. I even scooch myself out of the group to be more noticeable.

Karoline pops up and swoops Mason into a hug beside me, saying something about being in their Sunday school room and organizing literature.

I, however, still go unnoticed, so I answer Mrs. Netty’s question while flicking my gaze between her and Lucy. “I went to college at Ole Miss, and I decided I liked this area enough to stick around after some years of travel.”

“Hi, Finley! Glad you made it this morning,” Karoline interrupts, her arm looped through Mason’s. I glance at Mason who has a sheepish look on his face. I specifically remember telling him not to tell people I was coming, but I guess fiancées are excluded from secrecy.

“Good to see you, Karoline.” I turn my attention back to Lucy.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her,” she whispers, a hint of mischievousness in her voice, and I chuckle with a shake of my head.

Lucy finally turns in my direction, and we lock eyes. A look akin to horror flashes across her face, and my heart shatters.

“Oh, Lucy, Lorelei,” Mrs. Netty hollers from the other side of me. “Come meet this here young man. He’s from a different country.”

I swallow the utter fear building in my throat as the twins exchange glances. Lucy’s eyes are saucers, her lips pressed taut, while Lorelei’s hand flies to cover her eye and her jaw drops open.

They simultaneously wave to the older woman and then make a bee-line for the restroom off to the right of them.

And to make matters worse, it’s at that time Gabriel and Anders are ushered through the door by an older gentleman. “Found two lost souls wandering around outside. Figured they’d like some coffee and fellowship,” he drawls.

“Three new visitors in one day? Color me shocked,” Mrs. Netty says, then she saddles up to my PPOs who look like they want to make like a snake and shed their skins right about now. “Handsome young things. You should meet my granddaughters, Lorelei and Lucy Spence.”

Granddaughters?

I snap my attention back to the old lady. “You’re Lucy’s grandmother?” The question slips through without my permission.

“Why yes I am, Finley.” She ditches Gabriel and Anders, walking with her cane back over to me. The two misplaced men shift closer and closer towards Mason. Mrs. Netty places a frail, wrinkled hand on my shoulder and looks up at me with shining blue eyes, very similar to Lucy’s. “Do you have a thing for my granddaughter?”

One could hear a feather brush across the floor; all eyes in the fellowship room cut to me.

The answer is obviously yes, but will she be comfortable with me proclaiming my intentions to date her to the entire congregation? Will that scare her away? The frown at the end of the night didn’t have to mean that she had a bad time. It could have meant a million things, and I’ve tried to convince myself of that.

Saving me from answering, a man in a suit with gray hair and a kind smile—Pastor Rawls, Braxton’s father—opens the door to the fellowship hall and says, “Time for Sunday school. Everyone get to your classes.”

I sneak a glance at Mrs. Netty who now narrows her eyes, watching me like a hawk. Since she is Lucy’s grandmother, I want to make a good impression. I paste a grin to my face, lean in, and whisper, “I’m very interested in Lucy, but I still have to find out if she’s interested in me.”

Mrs. Netty guffaws, a tear springing free at the corner of her eye. “Oh, darlin’ boy. If that girl ain’t interested in you, then I’d keel over dead. The men she’s dated in the past…” She grumbles the last part. Something stirs in my stomach at her mention of Lucy’s dating history, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to mine. I can’t hold anything against her when my private life has been on full display for anyone interested in an obscure country’s royal gossip.

While everyone shuffles off to various classrooms, the twins finally emerge from the restroom.

“Go say hey to the lady.” Mrs. Netty nudges me with the tip of her cane.

I smile and nod, say a quick thank you and goodbye, inhale a steadying breath, straighten my back, and walk with false bravado towards the twins.

Everyone seems to have dispersed by now, except for Mrs. Netty, whose eyes I can feel burning a hole into my back. I might have shaken everyone else as an audience, but that lady isn’t going anywhere.

I wave to Lucy, and by default, her sister. Both girls wave back and make no motion to meet me halfway. After a few more strides, I’m standing in front of them.

“Hi, Lucy.” I step forward to embrace her, but her arms stay at her side as her eyes dart between me and her sister. Right as I’m about to drop my arms, Lorelei gives Lucy a little shove, sending her tripping into my open span, her hands flattening across my chest for stability.

Can she feel the intensity of my heartbeat?

I make quick work of steadying Lucy by snaking my arms around her tightly, and I cling onto her until her soft hands travel apprehensively up my chest and across my shoulders, like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch me like this, before wrapping loosely around my neck.

Somebody call the fire department because this flame ripping through my veins is about to cause internal combustion.

To thank her for her service, I wink at Lorelei over Lucy’s shoulder. She smiles, shifting her eyes away. Or, er, eye. The black one is pretty swollen, and I don’t think she could open it all the way if she tried.

Though rigid in my arms, Lucy finally relents and closes the last few inches between us. Just like that, I’m wrapped in her essence. She smells of cottonwood and tea tree and summer rain. My long fingers stretch across her back as I hold her against me, her soft curves conforming to my sharp angles.

Is this legal in the house of the Lord?

“It’s good to see you,” I whisper shakily in her ear. My heart is beating erratically at this contact. Attans, this woman has already done a number on me.

“You smell nice. Like a winter forest,” she says after a deep inhale.

I laugh, wondering why I was ever concerned that the woman didn’t have a good time. She’s just nervous about affection; I picked up on that Friday night. I’ll be extra careful in the future to make sure she’s open to my touches and hugs.

Hopefully.

I like physical touch.

A lot.

“You smell like spring, Lucy.”

She stiffens again, then rips herself from my arms. She’s going to give herself whiplash if she keeps snapping her head between me and her sister. “We can talk later! Time for class!”

Dragging Lorelei behind her, she darts off towards her classroom. I’m left alone in the hall.

Almost alone.

Mrs. Netty still stands in the corner by the coffeepot, staring at me with pursed lips and narrowed, wrinkling eyes.

I shrug and smile, trying to act as casual as possible, but I might get whiplash, too, if Lucy keeps this hot and cold act up.

Mrs. Netty meets me at the head of the short hallway that leads to the different class. She places her wrinkled hand on my shoulder once more. “Well, Finley. I might have been wrong. You might not be Lucy’s type, but from where I stood, it sure looked like you are Lorelei’s type.”

“Excuse me?” I tilt my head at the woman, who only clicks her tongue. She drops her hand.

“Just a word of advice, son. Make sure you court the right twin.” She hobbles off, and I’m left contemplating her cryptic words.

Hadley would have told me if Lorelei was a better fit, right? But she set me up with Lucy.

I have to trust her, and I have to trust my gut.

Lucy Spence felt like home in my arms, and regardless of Lorelei being her twin, there is no way she could replicate that feeling.

After Sunday School, which was a riveting discussion surrounding creationism and the fall of mankind, we are ushered into the small sanctuary. The moss green carpet matches the material on the pews perfectly, and though you can tell it’s old, it’s clean and inviting. Scanning the room of mostly elderly people with a handful of young adults, mostly Hadley and Braxton’s crowd, I spot Lucy and Lorelei sitting next to their grandmother. The twins notice me and begin fidgeting in a similar way until Mrs. Netty whacks Lucy’s leg with her Bible and motions for Lorelei to scoot down. They exhale dramatically, again, at the same time, but do as they are instructed.

The entire time, I haven’t moved from my post leaning against the corner wall where I now appreciate the womens’ similarities while amusement at their close relationship with their grandmother plays at the edges of my thoughts.

Plucking myself from my wallflower position as Mason passes by, I follow him across the front and then down the aisle a few rows until I arrive at the row with my Lucy. Mason slides into the row behind me where Karoline, Hadley, and Braxton sit. Behind them is Braxton’s brother, Michael, and his wife, Brandi, whom I’ve gotten to know briefly while they work on Mason’s house. I wave hello to everyone, specifically to Braxton, Hadley, Michael, and Brandi, who must have just come for the service this morning, and then I sit in the empty spot between the twins.

“How was your class?” I ask Lucy. When she doesn’t immediately answer, but instead looks past me to her sister, I add, “We discussed how creationism can be proven scientifically and from a Biblical perspective due to the fact that the earth can’t possibly be millions of years old because, if you’re a Christian and believe scripture, then an old earth wouldn’t be comprehensible. Sin would have had to enter the earth before the fall in order for us to have the evidence of disease from fossils that we have. That moves the timeline of creation up by millions of years.”

By the end of my statement, I have gathered Lucy’s complete attention. That spark of knowledge pursuit gleams in her hazel-blue eyes. “Fascinating,” she comments. “I would like to explore that more. I’ve never thought of creationism from that perspective. We discussed how to use our emotions for the glory of Christ, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know what emotions I’m experiencing half the time. I should have gone into your class today.” She chuckles, and I smile, but on the inside, I’m realizing Lucy is more black and white than I once thought. I caught the feeling on our date, but with her outwardly saying that, it makes sense.

“That’s why you journal and write so much, right, Lucy?” Her twin asks, looking around me. Lucy grimaces for a fraction of second then adheres a plastic smile to her face. She nods swiftly in agreement before looking away from both of us and focusing on the front of the room where Pastor Rawls approaches the small wooden podium with a cross etched into the front of it.

Is she embarrassed or ashamed that she’s not that in touch with her emotions? It’s perfectly normal. Not every human can be an overly anxious, sensitive worry wart like I am. In fact, I don’t want her to be that way. We would be a disaster. I’ve dated that type before; we do not blend well despite what people would assume.

I lean over to whisper in Lucy’s ear just as the pastor begins to welcome everyone. “I think you’re quite perfect. Emotions suck, anyway.”

The smile on her face pulls higher for a millisecond before she trains it back to plastic. I take it as a win and open my palm towards her. She cocks her head, and I raise an eyebrow.

It’s yours if you want it, baby girl.

As my fingers intertwine with hers and the world explodes with new vibrant colors around me, her sister clears her throat. Lucy rips her hand from mine and folds hers together on top of her crossed legs.

Maybe there is a no-hand holding rule I’m unaware of?

Either way, my skin immediately misses the soft feel of hers.

And I kind of want to elbow her sister who seems to keep interrupting every potential good moment I have with Lucy.

After the end of the service, one where I honestly gave it my all to focus on Pastor Rawls but ended up too consumed by the static electricity between me and Lucy, I ask, “Let me take you out to lunch.” I’m leaning against my car, trying to conjure all the charm that has worked countless times before in order to persuade Lucy to hop in my vehicle and go to lunch with me. She’s been insistent that she can’t, though her sister keeps saying otherwise. The warm, sticky air sits heavy around us as clouds begin to block out the sun.

“I have lunch scheduled with my sister and Grandma Netty. I can’t cancel at the last minute.”

“Sure ya can, Lucy,” Mrs. Netty appears behind me. I gesture in the elderly woman’s direction.

“See. You have permission.”

“Yeah, Lucy. We will be fine to have lunch on our own. Go!” Lorelei bumps her hip against her sister, and I’m reminded of Lucy’s behavior from the wedding. That is how she acted—girly, extroverted, and flirty. What happened between then and now that Lorelei seems to have adopted Lucy’s behavior while Lucy has… matured?

No, that’s not the right word for it. It’s not that Lucy’s behavior at the wedding was immature; it was flowery. Energetic and flirty. Whereas now she’s demure, though when you nudge her to talk about her passions—plants, law, history, cats, random facts—she’s as lively and animated as can be.

Whatever happened, I like it. I like this refined, intelligent side of her. Though I do miss the flirty banter. Regardless, she will fit in perfectly with my family. I don’t need my family to approve, but it would make things much easier if they did. Especially Mamma.

Remember you have less than three months left, Finley.

Right.

“The people have spoken. You’re mine for the afternoon.” I grin devilishly, rubbing my hands together. Her cheeks and nose pinken.

“Fine,” she bites, and the victory I was lavishing in vanishes.

“Unless you truly don’t want to.” My pride hurts even saying those words, but I don’t want to force her.

Lorelei grabs her arm and yanks her close, whispering something in her ear. Beside me, Mrs. Netty snorts. Thunder echoes from a distance. Whereas I wanted to scold Lorelei for interrupting my attempts at physical contact earlier, now I want to kiss her cheek in gratitude for prompting Lucy to go on this impromptu date with me.

“I truly want to go,” Lucy says after a moment. “Take me away, Your Highness.” And then she smirks, sweeping into a curtsey.

My heart hammers against my chest. “I, uh… You don't have to call me that.” I can’t tell her because I’m not a prince. That’s an outright lie. I promised I wouldn’t outright lie about who I am, but I did lie by omission because I have to protect myself and the crown.

A smug, angry look flicks across her face. “Don’t I?”

“Lucy!” her sister snaps. Mrs. Netty snorts again, followed by a boisterous laugh.

Lucy ignores them both and walks around to the passenger side. Breaking free of my stupor, I rush around to open her door. She stands with her arms crossed, waiting. At least she let me exercise chivalry this time.

“Much obliged, Your Highness,” she snarks, dipping into another curtsey before getting into the car and yanking the door closed, my body becoming one with the car door.

But don’t mind my chest flat against the window. Something else is much more concerning. I glance over the top of my car at her sister.

One glance at Lorelei’s horrified expression tells me everything I need to know. “She knows.”

Lorelei nods her head, her bangs blowing gently in the light breeze revealing sympathy in her one good eye.

A Korsan curse slips through my lips.