The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 10

“HANNAH,” BELINDA LAGMAN, the librarian at Grace Canyon sticks her head in my door Wednesday morning, “will you be joining everyone for chapel this morning?”

“Chapel?” I look up from the table where I was busy sorting supplies into bins for today’s lesson on Wassily Kandinsky and concentric circles.

“Yes, every Wednesday morning there’s an all school chapel service in the church.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” I set my stack of construction paper down, a buzz of excitement running through me. “Of course, I’ll come.” I pause, trying not to sound too obvious. “Does Pastor Abbott run the service?”

“He does.” Belinda nods. “The kids love him.”

I bite back a grin. I haven’t seen Luke since our little, uh, flirtation on Monday, and I’ve been starting to worry I read into things. Chapel will give me the perfect excuse to run into him accidentally on purpose and ascertain where I stand with him .

And also, Jesus will be there too.

So, it’s a win-win.

Heart check.

“I’ve never seen him preach before,” I tell Belinda, hoping she’ll interpret my nervous energy to be about that rather than the secret crush I’m harboring for him. When I met Belinda on Monday I learned that she’s a recent empty nester with a penchant for romance novels. Consequently, she took an immediate interest in my personal life. One of the first things she said to me was, “Now that my youngest is off to college, I’ll have to live vicariously through you, Hannah. Tell me, are you dating anyone? And if not, can I set you up with someone? My chiropractor is single and looks just like the model on the cover of the last Becky Wade romance I read.”

She’s a regular Emma Woodhouse.

“Oh, Pastor Abbott is quite the speaker,” Belinda gushes as we exit my classroom. “And so handsome. Don’t you think he’s handsome, Hannah?”

“Uh,” I begin uncertainly, because, duh—yes, but I’m not telling her that.

“Oh, of course you do,” Belinda says with a laugh. “He looks just like the hero of the last Courtney Walsh book I read.” She lets out another merry laugh. “Of course, I won’t try and set you up with him, even if he is handsome as a soldier off to war.”

At first her kooky expression makes me grin, then her words sink in. “What? Why not?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Not that I’m interested,” I lie quickly, “just curious.”

“Oh, honey,” Belinda pats me on the shoulder, “don’t worry, it’s nothing personal. It’s just Pastor Abbott signed a contract when he started working here last March. He agreed to stay single his first year here so he could focus on the church and school.”

I stop in my tracks. “What? Is that typical for a pastor?”

“I don’t believe so.” Belinda hasn’t noticed my frozen state, and I hurry to catch up, not wanting to miss what she’s saying. “Some members of our congregation,” she sniffs in disapproval, “seemed to feel that he was too young to be lead pastor and was being shown favoritism because of his connection to the principal. They worried he wasn’t mature enough to lead our church and that he’d get distracted by the things of this world—” she looks me up and down as she specifies, “meaning a woman—and then not perform his duties well.” She snorts. “Very Jane Austen, the lot of them: it’s a truth universally acknowledged that a single man must be in want of a wife, and all of that hoopla-do. ”

I’m so worked up about this new development in my relationship with Luke (I know, I know I'm using the word relationship a bit liberally here) that I don’t bother defending Jane Austen by pointing out that she was making a social commentary when she said that, not necessarily agreeing with the words.

“Of course, they used Paul’s letters to back their stance,” she continues sagely. “And don’t misunderstand me, I know Paul’s words on marriage hold a lot of wisdom, but he also said himself it’s better to marry than burn with passion. That’s why my Reggie and I got married. We were burning with passion.” She shows no signs of embarrassment about having just informed me of her irrepressible lust, so I choose to breeze past it and hope I never meet Reggie.

“And Lu-uh, Pastor Abbott,” I correct quickly, “was just okay with agreeing to their terms?”

“He said he understood where they were coming from.” Belinda shrugs. “From what I've observed, he’s not one for making waves. Very easy going, that one. The only time I’ve seen him put his foot down was when the board of trustees here at the school tried to reject his proposal to take on more scholarship students.” Belinda leans in close. “I myself am not a board member, but I heard from my good friend Grace Ann that even Lexie Stone looked scared at the end of the speech he gave to them. And I also heard,” there’s a twinkle in Belinda’s eyes now, “that each one of the board members donated a hefty sum to the scholarship fund that very night. We were able to offer an additional five full ride scholarships this year thanks to Pastor Abbott.”

Well, isn’t that nice. More attractive philanthropy from the man I apparently can’t date until March. March is four months away. Four. That’s a long time. Which is fine. Obviously. Because I am not in the market for a boyfriend.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

“Wow, I think that’s great,” I tell Belinda, proud of myself for playing it so cool. Belinda is completely oblivious to my crush on Luke.

My former crush, I should say. I’ve wisely decided to move on based on this new information about Luke having to stay single.

“Yes, it is.” She nods. We’ve reached the door to the chapel now, so I pull it open and let Belinda lead the way inside. “It’s only four months, sweetie,” she says as she breezes past me, stopping midway to pat me twice on the cheek. “I’m sure he’s worth the wait.”

My eyes land on the man in question. He’s walking towards the stage, and it’s like he’s some sort of rock star. Kids are reaching over two and even three seats to stick their hand out for a half five from him. And he doesn’t miss a single one .

My heart squeezes in my chest.

Wrong on two counts then.

Belinda is definitely onto me.

And there’s absolutely nothing former about my crush.

***

“He was just so dynamic,” I say to Jill later that night as I help her set the table for dinner. “So engaging.”

Jill laughs. “ Yes, Pastor Abbott is an excellent sermonist, though to be fair you’re also used to Pastor Jennings who tends to lose his train of thought a lot these days.”

She’s not wrong. The pastor where I attend church with my parents does have a tendency to jump from talking about Jesus to talking about his most recent visit to his nephrologist. Poor guy has had four kidney stones this year alone. And I’ve heard sermons about each one of those kidney stones.

“Plus there’s your crush on him coloring your opinion all rosy,” Jill adds with a smirk.

“W-What?” I babble futilely. “I do not have a crush on him.”

The doorbell rings.

“Oh good,” Jill sets the last plate down with a grin, “because I invited him to join us for dinner tonight, and I’d hate for you to drool all over our guest.”

“You did what?” My hands fly up to my messy bun and my eyes travel down over my clothes. “Jill, I’m wearing flannel joggers!” I squeak. “My t-shirt has a hedgehog on it. And my hair is a mess! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jill gives me a quick once over. “Your hair is fine. Hedgehogs are trendy. And your butt looks good in those pants.” She shrugs. “Plus, it was more fun this way.”

I just stare at her, mouth hanging open.

“Oh don’t be such a drama queen,” Jill says with a little huff. “He doesn’t even know you’re going to be here, so if you’re that worried about your hair you can just disappear to your house and fend for yourself for dinner. I’m sure a blueberry yogurt and a slice of peanut butter toast will be way better than my chicken Kiev.”

I wish I could be affronted right now, but she’s right. That is what I will eat for dinner if I go home.

“You’d better decide quickly, though,” Jill adds as she starts slicing pear for the mixed green salad she’s preparing, “I hear Max and Liam heading for the door. They’ll be back with Pastor Abbott any minute.”

She’s right, I can hear the galloping noise that accompanies my nephew’s signature mode of travel and Max’s voice chiding him to slow down in the slippery foyer.

I glance over at the kitchen exit that leads to the backyard. I can see my little house. Holly is lounging on the welcome mat. She’d appreciate my peanut butter toast, I’ll tell you that.

“Oh my word. You are such a chicken,” Jill whispers at me. “You’re really considering leaving?”

“I’m in loungewear, Jill,” I whisper-screech. “Don’t judge me. You didn’t let Max see you without makeup for the first six months of your relationship.”

Jill sticks her tongue out. “I have blonde lashes,” she retorts, “mascara is as essential as underwear to me. And Max didn’t get to see me without underwear until we were married.”

“Wow, thanks for sharing.” I take two steps towards the door. “I’m just going to change, okay? Then I’ll head back over.”

“Whatever, Han,” Jill pours chopped walnuts over the salad, “you do you. Like I said, I think you look cute in your loungewear ,” she drags out the word, “but if you’re going to change I’d do your hair too.”

“You said my hair was fine!” I protest indignantly .

“And it is,” Jill replies calmly, “but that messy top knot of yours pairs better with your current outfit than it will with jeans and a nice top.”

“I don’t like you right now,” I inform Jill, but she only laughs again. I’m still caught in indecision, when I hear Luke’s voice in the hall right outside the swinging kitchen door. He’s here! There’s only one thing to do. I spring into action, throwing myself on the floor and scuttling under the table.

“Hannah!” Jill exclaims in shock, but before she can say more, there they are—Max, Liam, and Luke have entered the kitchen. I know because I can see their shoes from my vantage point…under the table.

Oh. No. I’m under the table ! Why! Why am I under the table? The realization of how idiotic it was to hide under here hits me square in the chest, and I pray for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Jesus, I plead, now would be a great time for your second coming. I’m ready! Play the trumpets! Bring me home, Lord!

“Pastor Abbott, welcome to our home,” Jill sounds completely flustered, and I can practically hear her murderous thoughts. The jokes on her though, because I actually would love it if she would murder me right now. Then I wouldn’t have to explain to Luke why I’m under the table.

“Thank you, Jill. I appreciate you having me.” Luke’s deep voice fills the kitchen. Gosh, he has a nice voice. A girl could listen to that voice for hours. Listen to that voice preach or tell jokes or maybe even listen to it whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. I like Luke. I like Luke, and I’m under the flipping table . If Luke finds me here, having to wait four months for him to ask me out will no longer be an issue, because he will never ask me out.

There’s nothing for it. I’m just going to have to stay under here all night. Jill has a tablecloth on this table, bless her antiquated heart, so that at least provides me some coverage. I’ll just hide out here until he goes to the bathroom or they retire to the living room for coffee or whatever, then I’ll bolt out of here. He never has to know.

That’s when I hear a foreboding sound that signals my doom. Dog tags. And paws clacking on the floor. Goldie is coming. My cover is blown. That dog is a tracker.

I watch her paws head for Luke, who greets the dog with an enthusiasm that makes me swoon. He likes dogs!

I don’t have long to dwell on this though, because, as predicted, Goldie catches my scent. Her nose is to the floor, headed my way.

New plan. A stroke of brilliance actually.

“Found it!” I shout as Goldie closes in on the table. I back out quickly, brandishing my hand around in front of me like a crazy person. “Found it!” I cry again. I’m avoiding eye contact with everyone, but most of all Luke. I don’t want to see his expression, if I do, and it’s bad, I might cut tail and run.

“Found my contact,” I go on, slightly less exuberantly. My adrenaline spiked when I first popped out, but now self-consciousness is settling in. I just have to push through, though, I have no other option. I finally look in Luke’s direction, but squint like he’s blurry, trying to sell my contact story. “Pastor Abbott, hi, hey, hello.” Oh my gosh, I never should’ve gotten up this morning . “I mean, I didn’t know you were going to be here, what a nice surprise. My contact fell out of my eye. But I found it. Whew.”

“Aunt Hannah,” Ellie enters the kitchen, “why is your face so red?”

“Sunburn,” I inform her a bit hotly, but she doesn’t hear me, her eyes have found Luke.

“Pastor Abbott!” she squeals, running across the floor and throwing herself at him for a hug.

“Hey there, Ellie.” He accepts her hug with a chuckle, but as they separate his eyes go back to me.

“Hannah, hi, hey, hello to you too.” He grins. “Glad you found your contact.” There’s nothing but warmth in his eyes, and despite how embarrassing this situation is I feel myself start to relax .

“Yeah, so am I,” Jill says wryly. “Here I thought you were practicing for an air raid.”

“Ha!” I let out a too shrill laugh. “My sister the comedian. Well, I better go put this contact back in my eye. See you in a minute.” I hurry out the door and down the path to my house. Holly greets me with a booming bark, following me inside then staring at me as I slump against the door.

“Holly,” I moan, “I am such an idiot, you know that?” She cocks her head like the good listener she is, and blinks up at me. “The worst part is my closet is within reach,” I gesture to my bedroom door, “but I can’t change now. He’s already seen me; it’ll look like I’m trying too hard.”

Holly lets out a short bark that I take as agreement.

My phone dings in my pocket, and I pull it out to read the text that just arrived. It’s from Jill.

My cheeks glow pink with pleasure. I straighten and attempt to look at my butt. I don’t bend that way though, so I head for my bathroom mirror. Another text dings in arrival. Jill again.

“Oh!” I do a shimmy shake worthy only of the privacy of my own home. “He likes my butt, Holly!” I cry. She’s unimpressed. Which is odd given her tendency to sniff any butt that crosses her path. Whatever. I need to move on anyway. After all, I may have a crush on him, and he may think I have a cute butt and that I am not totally crazy, but those three things alone do not a relationship make.

“Besides,” I inform Holly as I head back to my front door, “I really should be respectful of his contracted singleness, right?”

She just paws at the door, making it clear that she expects to come with me to the house. She loves Goldie and the kids, especially Ellie who fawns over her and perpetually smells like fruit or baked goods thanks to her massive collection of Smackers lip balms.

“Fine, you can come,” I tell her as I swing open the door. “Just remember to mind your manners. Don’t go sticking your head in his crotch.”

It’s as I finish this teasing pronouncement that I realize I’m not alone in the backyard. Nope, Max and Luke are out here too, standing over by the pomegranate trees that are Jill’s pride and joy. I gasp in horror as both their heads swivel in my direction.

“Oh gosh, I was definitely talking to Holly,” I hurry to explain, gesturing down to Holly, who starts barking loudly at the sight of someone new. She does her waddling version of a run over to Luke. He crouches down to greet her, at which point she tilts her snout up and licks him right on the mouth. Great, my dog got a kiss before I did.

The little hussy.

Meanwhile Max stands there holding a pomegranate and trying not to laugh at me.

“My dog has no manners,” I say apologetically to Luke while shooting a glare Max’s way. “And I know it’s my job to teach her manners, but in my defense she spent the first six months of her life in a Spanish speaking household, so I’m not sure she actually understands me when I give her directions. ”

There’s a beat of silence during which I contemplate the potential benefits of never speaking in front of Luke again, but then Luke laughs. Like really laughs, head thrown back, all the way from his stomach laughter. All the awkwardness I’ve been feeling melts away, as I laugh too. Even Max joins in. Then Holly starts howling, garnering the attention of everyone in the house.

Jill sticks her head out the back door to see what all the ruckus is about, and the kids and Goldie come tumbling out under her, Ellie shouting, “Holly, my sweet boo puppy!”

Holly, obviously sensing the impending taste of cotton candy lips, stops howling, trots over to Ellie and commences licking her all over her face and mouth.

“So it’s not just me,” Luke’s voice speaks into my left ear, and I turn to see him shaking his head ruefully.

“Sorry, buddy,” I say with a laugh, “Holly kisses everyone. Though if you want the full facial treatment you’ll have to put on some Smackers lip balm like Ellie. The cotton candy is Holly’s favorite.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the green and pink lip balm Ellie gave me earlier today as a present for being “such a nice art teacher” and show him the label. “Watermelon is a close second though, if you prefer a fruity flavor like I do.” I smack my lips demonstratively .

Luke doesn’t laugh like I was expecting. Instead his face gets a little pink and he lets out a strangled cough. My own cheeks start to flush too. I’m cursed with being a sympathetic blusher.

“I do like watermelon,” he announces a little too loudly. “How about these pomegranate trees, though?” He reaches up and pats one of the branches, and a pomegranate falls to the ground at his feet. “Whoops.” Luke bends down to retrieve the pomegranate, bumping his head on a branch lightly on the way down.

“Are you okay?” I ask in alarm.

“Who me?” Luke puts the hand holding the pomegranate he just retrieved to his chest. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Right as rain.” He winces at his word choice, and for the first time I realize he’s flustered. I’ve flustered him! But how? I eye the watermelon lip balm in my hand, replaying what I just said to him. Was that it? Me talking about what flavor of lip balm I like best? I feel a frisson of pleasure. I bet he’s wishing he could hide under a table right about now.

I would totally join him there.

Just for a watermelon-flavored kiss. Nothing untoward. After all, he’s a pastor. And I have the promise ring my parents gave me on my thirteenth birthday to think about.

“These trees are one of Jill’s favorite things,” I inform Luke as he rubs the spot where he hit his head. I’m throwing him the same bone he threw me earlier when I popped out from under the table, the pretend-nothing-he-just-said-or-did-was-weird bone. “I’m pretty sure she has three entire Pinterest boards dedicated to her pomegranate trees, one about the care and keeping of them, one for inspiration, and one for recipes.” I lean in a little and whisper, “And Brooke and I think she has an Instagram account for her trees. We can’t figure out what the handle is, but once I walked outside to find Jill narrating a video of the trees, and another time Brooke caught her staging pomegranates in the kitchen.”

Luke grins, looking relaxed again. “Did you try searching their names?”

I freeze. Luke knows they have names? Maybe even knows what those names are…this could be big!

“Their names?” I ask innocently.

“Yeah, she sent Max and I out here to grab a few pomegranates for the salad off of Wilson and Ethel.” He gestures to the two trees next to us.

“No!” My sister’s voice screeches from a few feet away, just as I pump my own fist in the air and shout, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Wilson and Ethel,” I crow victoriously in Jill’s direction. “Wait until I tell Brooke I found out their names! ”

“Don’t you dare tell Brooke,” Jill replies hotly. “Hannah Caitlin, you will not tell her!”

“Clearly I’ve put my foot in something,” Luke says apologetically.

“Oh no, no,” Jill, ever the hostess, hurries to assure him even while shooting red hot laser beams at me with her eyes. “This is not your fault, Pastor Abbott. I should’ve warned you that while most humans are mature enough for me to tell them the names of my pomegranate trees, my sisters are not.”

“Wilson and Ethel.” I ignore her, shaking my head giddily. “Thank God Max had input on your kids’ names, Jill.”

“Wilson and Ethel are perfect tree names, Hannah,” Jill retorts. “Max thinks so too, don’t you, babe?”

“Of course,” Max says loyally. “Perfect tree names.”

“Personally I liked Annie the oak and Dash the ash, the trees of our childhood, a bit better,” I pipe up.

“Trees are living things, Hannah.” Jill sets her hands on her hips. “It’s normal to name living things.”

“I agree.” I adopt a serious expression and take the pomegranates Luke’s holding into my own hands. “That’s why I named this pomegranate Luke collected Bob. ”

Next to me Luke holds his lips together against a laugh and behind Jill Max stifles a snort.

“I know you’re making fun of me,” Jill replies coolly, taking a few steps to close the distance between us, “but I actually think Bob is a great name for a pomegranate. Now I’m going to take Bob inside and cut him open so we can have pomegranate seeds on top of our salad.” She yanks the pomegranate out of my hands and stalks inside. Max follows after her, muttering something about damage control.

Across the lawn Holly and Goldie are still playing with Liam and Ellie, so it’s just Luke and me standing here. Well, Luke and I plus Wilson and Ethel.

I turn to Luke unable to contain my glee. “Three years!” I tell him. “For three years Brooke and I have been trying to find out their names, and you just waltz in and solve the mystery.”

Luke chuckles. “People will tell a pastor anything.”

I laugh too, even though his words make me uneasy. They’re a reminder of what I’m not telling him.

His dad told you not to tell him, I remind myself, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

“Hey so, speaking of telling people things,” Luke goes on, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. ”

“Oh?” I feel like Holly, my ears perking up eagerly. “What’s that?”

“Not now,” Luke amends quickly, “but could we maybe meet up for lunch at school tomorrow?”

My heart rises hopefully in my chest. “Meet for lunch?” I repeat, just to be sure I heard him correctly.

“Yeah, just as friends,” he adds quickly.

Right. Just as friends. My heart sinks back down where it belongs. “Of course,” I squeak. “Yes, I can meet for lunch tomorrow as friends.”

“Okay, great. I’ll swing by your classroom.” Luke gestures to the house. “Shall we go eat?”

I nod and start forward. Friends. It’s for the best, really.

All the chemistry between us is clearly one-sided, a figment of my overactive imagination. Besides, I’m not going to make the same mistake I made with Marshall by intertwining a romantic relationship with a working relationship. That’s how I ended up moving back to Tucson to live in my sister’s guest house rent free. If I got involved with Luke and things ended badly, I might end up out of work and desperate to leave town again.

And I don’t have any other sisters with guest houses to flee to.