The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 19

“WOW, THIS IS SO pretty!” Kylie, a new addition to our after school art club, says as she sets down the easel she carried out here.

“It’s okay I guess,” Toby, one of two boys in the art club, sniffs. He dumps his easel on the ground then holds up his paintbrush in challenge to Musa, the other boy, because obviously paint brushes are actually just mini swords in disguise.

Before they can begin their epic sword fight I step between them and grab Toby’s easel off the ground. “Let’s set this up, shall we?” I suggest.

I spend the next five or so minutes helping all of the students set up their easels and arrange their canvases on them. We trekked all the way over to this back corner of the school grounds because the other day Sydney and I took a walk during our lunch period and discovered that one of the neighboring houses has an absolutely stunning grove of orange trees. As soon as I saw the bright orange of the fruit beginning to appear on the trees I just knew this was a scene worth painting.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Mia asks nervously as she arranges her paints.

“Of course I’m sure,” I say cheerfully. “We’re on school grounds.”

“The very edge of school grounds,” Mia says, eyeing the orange grove house nervously.

“Mia’s just nervous because that’s where Scary Miss Sherry lives,” Toby supplies, making his voice go spooky around the name.

“Scary Miss Sherry?” I say dubiously. “Really?”

“He’s right, Aunt Hannah,” Ellie pipes up. “That’s what everyone calls her. One time these older boys snuck off over here during recess to play with the noise poppers one of them snuck in and she found them and dragged them back up to the school by their ears.”

A couple of kids around the circle start nodding like they’ve heard this story too. I laugh, albeit a little nervously.

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration. You can’t just drag two kids by their ears for almost a quarter mile.”

“That’s how the story goes,” Agatha says with a shrug .

“Well those boys were doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing,” I remind them. “So some level of correction was necessary.”

“Another time we were outside for field day,” Mia says breathlessly, “and she sprayed some kids with her hose because she said they got too close to her property. One of the kids had to go to the doctor because she blasted him so hard with the jet setting.”

“I see.” I eye Scary Miss Sherry’s house with slight apprehension. I mean, these sort of sound like crazy urban legends kids just tell each other, but still. I don’t want to get sprayed with a hose. I’m wearing a white shirt. “Well, I’m an adult and you guys are with me, so I’m sure if she does come out we can have a perfectly reasonable discussion before anyone gets any hoses out.”

The kids exchange nervous glances with each other, evidently unconvinced.

“Besides,” I add, infusing my voice with cheer and confidence, “I already asked her for permission.” This is not strictly true. I did go to her house yesterday and knock, but she didn’t answer so I left her a note explaining my idea and asked her to call me if she had any issues with us painting her beautiful trees.

She never called me, ergo I concluded that she doesn’t have any problems with us painting her beautiful trees .

Right?

Okay. Now I’m officially nervous. Maybe this was a bad idea. Why do I always think with the artistic side of my brain instead of the logical side of it?

“Oh you have permission?” Mia looks relieved.

“I thought you said it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Ellie says unhelpfully.

“Yes, well that was specifically in regards to us each enjoying a slice of that pie your mom left on the counter the other day,” I say hastily. And it proved to be quite wrong. Apparently Jill had planned on bringing that pie to a Grace Canyon family’s house; the mother having just had a baby. I had to help her make a new pie and take it over for her since making the second pie made her run late for Liam’s soccer game.

On the plus side I got to hold the new baby and Kelly—the mom—got to take a little catnap. So, all's well that ends well.

“Anyway, let’s paint, shall we?” I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and get some praise and worship music going, then walk around to give the kids some tips about painting the trees. The whole thing is peaceful and wonderful and honestly, pretty perfect. For me, creating art has always made me feel close to God; like I’m reflecting His creativity in my own. I’m about to say as much to the kids when Ellie starts squealing excitedly.

“Look! It’s Pastor Abbott!” She points her orange-tipped paintbrush over my shoulder, managing to spray my arm with orange specks in the process. I follow her wild pointing to see that Luke is in fact headed our way. My heart picks up speed, clearly taking its job of reminding me that I like Luke very seriously.

“Pastor Abbott!” Ellie calls, continuing to jump up and down like there’s a chance he might miss the thirteen of us congregated here with our easels and paint. A couple of the other kids join in her shouting and Luke lifts a hand in greeting.

As he gets closer I spot headphones in his ears; he removes them and smiles at us. “What are you all doing out here?” he asks.

“We’re painting Scary Miss Sherry’s orange trees,” Ellie supplies.

“Scary Miss Sherry?” Luke echoes, looking over his shoulder at the house behind him. “Aww, c’mon you guys aren’t still calling her that are you?”

“We are,” Ellie says gravely. Next to her Caroline giggles. Meanwhile Mia still looks nervous.

“Miss Sherry isn’t so scary,” Luke reasons. “You know I walk back here all the time and a lot of times she’ll come out here and say hello to me. Sometimes she even gives me a glass of her freshly squeezed orange juice.”

Okay. Hold up. Luke and Sherry have conversations? I’ve been imagining an older woman, but now I’m wondering if Scary Miss Sherry is actually a young woman. If perhaps the scariest thing about her is how pretty she is…In fact I bet she grows these oranges just so she can offer Luke that freshly squeezed orange juice. I shoot a suspicious glance at the orange trees, suddenly seeing them for what they are: man stealers.

“Really?” Mia asks him earnestly. “She gives you orange juice?”

“Sometimes.” He nods.

“Yeah, but maybe she poisons it,” Musa shouts. “Didchya ever think of that?”

“Stupid, he’d be dead if she poisoned it,” Toby says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t call people stupid,” Luke and I say in unison. He grins at me and my workerbee heart does a little flip.

“Sorry,” Toby mutters.

“There is one thing you need to be careful of when it comes to Miss Sherry’s house, though,” Luke tells the kids and they all instantly go quiet.

“What is it?” Ellie whispers, leaning forward on her toes.

“Her sprinkler system,” Luke says very seriously .

“What?” They all say in unison.

“Her sprinkler system,” Luke repeats as he gestures behind him at the orange trees. “How do you think she keeps her orange trees going strong? She has a very specific watering schedule she follows for them. I know because I walk back here so much and I used to get hit by them sometimes.”

“Did you have to go to the doctor when you got hit?” Caroline asks with wide-eyes.

“Uh, no.” Luke shoots me a quizzical look.

I shrug. “Supposedly she hit a kid with the jet setting on her hose.”

Luke laughs. “Now that sounds like an urban legend if I ever heard one.” He shakes his head at Caroline. “No, nothing as serious as all that. You just get pretty wet if you’re not paying attention. Luckily I’ve learned the schedule. She usually only waters on Thursday evenings in these colder months. You guys should be safe.”

“Oh man, that’s a bummer,” Toby comments. “I wouldn’t have minded playing in the sprinklers.”

“That would ruin our paintings,” Mia says indignantly.

The kids take off talking over each other, all eager to voice their opinions on Scary Miss Sherry’s sprinkler system.

I eye Luke a little nervously. I haven’t seen him in person in a while and with my heart performing all of its best tricks I feel a bit as if we’re doing something wrong. Which is silly. Just because my body is having a physical reaction to his nearness that doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it. We are still safely in the friendzone.

“So, you’re a walker, huh?” I say, annoyed that the words come out a little flirty sounding. Gotta reign that flirt in.

“I am,” he says with a smile. Good grief, he has such a nice smile. If I painted Luke’s smile the Mona Lisa smile would become obsolete. That’s right, nobody would even care about that enigmatic smile of hers because Luke’s wide-open smile would be too magnetic. “I like to walk while I pray,” he goes on. “I find surrounding myself with nature calms my spirit and makes me a better listener. This is the first time the person I was praying for materialized in front of me, though,” he adds with a devastating wink.

Well, see now. Stick that in your freshly squeezed orange juice and drink it, Scary Miss Sherry. Luke was praying for me! Again!

Wow. I really need to get off this whole weird orange juice/Scary Miss Sherry line of thought.

“Luke,” I say to him, suppressing the urge to reach over and squeeze his forearm, “you were praying for me? Thank you.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I meant the kids.” He dips his lips apologetically. “I was praying for them.” A blush rises to my face .

“Oh, right. Of course.” I fumble for something to say that will make my embarrassment fade, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hannah,” Luke’s wide smile is back, “I was joking. You were the person I was praying for.”

“L-Luke!” I sputter, relief surging through me. This time I’m unable to stop myself from touching him, and I reach over and swat him on the arm. He laughs.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

I grin up at him, shaking my head. “You’d better watch your back,” I tell him. “I’m going to have to get you for that. Toby,” I call, “how’s that paintbrush sword of yours?”

“En garde!” Toby’s voice replies and a second later he appears by my side brandishing his paintbrush.

“Oh, brown paint,” I say, eyeing his wet brush. “That won’t look so good on your pants, Pastor Abbott.”

Luke chuckles, then moves so fast I almost miss it, bending down to retrieve a stick off the ground and holding it in front of him. “You sure you want to do this, Toby?” he asks the little boy with faux seriousness.

Toby looks surprised, like he wasn’t actually expecting Luke to be willing to spar with him. “Am I really allowed to get paint on you?” he leans forward to whisper .

“I think Miss Garza will be disappointed if you don’t,” he replies. That’s all the encouragement Toby needs. He moves his paintbrush toward Luke, who meets him a couple of times with the stick, but then lets Toby knock it out of his hand. Toby gets a long swipe of brown paint across the leg of Luke’s jeans, but then Luke does some sort of move that involves grabbing the paintbrush by the tip then flipping it so it’s in his possession. “Uh-oh,” he says to Toby, who shrieks with delight and runs off.

Luke takes off after him and a second later so does Musa. The girls all stare after them.

“Boys,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, boys,” Kylie is quick to agree. The ten of them all look at each other then a second later they all take off running too, chasing Luke around the grassy space. After a couple of minutes they catch up to him, then Musa trips, his arms tangling with Luke's legs. For the first time, Luke goes down at the hands of the kids. I move forward in concern, but then pause as Musa swipes his paintbrush across Luke's cheek and Luke's booming laugh fills the air in response. The other kids all join in, swiping their paintbrushes all over Luke as everybody shouts with laughter.

I’m about to go and rescue him when the sound of a back door opening draws my attention to Miss Sherry’s backyard. A stern-looking older woman steps out, catches sight of the mob of kids on Luke and lets out a loud cry. Before I can even call to her she’s got her hose in her hands and she’s surging forward rather quickly for a woman of her age spraying the water all over the kids–and Luke by extension.

The kids all start screaming, jumping off Luke and hurrying out of range of Scary Miss Sherry. Luke gets to his feet, holding his arms up and she immediately stops spraying.

“Pastor Abbott,” she exclaims in surprise. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem, Miss Sherry,” Luke tells her. He’s dripping wet and covered in paint, but still manages to look completely at ease as he talks to her. “Sorry to have disturbed your afternoon.”

She adjusts her grip on her hose. “You need me to spray those hooligans again?”

“I do not. But thank you for your willingness,” he adds diplomatically. Her gaze swings my way. I’m sure I look like a deer caught in headlights. The kids have all gathered behind me like I can protect them, effectively turning me into their partner in crime.

“Hi.” I wave at her. “Miss Sherry was it?” I paste on my friendliest smile. “I’m Hannah Garza, the art teacher at Grace Canyon.”

“You left that note on my door,” she accuses.

“Yup.” I make my smile even wider. My cheeks hurt from the stretching. “That was me. Thanks for letting us paint your oranges.”

She just grunts.

Which honestly, is a better response than say spraying us all with that hose of hers again .

“Well, we should go,” I say, clapping my hands together.

“Nah, let me see those paintings,” she says, dropping her hose and stepping forward. The kids all shrink back, but then she adds. “I could get everyone some freshly-squeezed orange juice. Maybe some cookies?”

There’s a beat of surprised silence, then Caroline cheers. “Yay! Cookies!” All of the other kids join in, and just like that the legend of Scary Miss Sherry goes up in flames.