THE KIDS AND I don’t end up making fried chicken, mostly because I realized Jill–who spent every summer of high school waitressing at a diner that served American food and consequently has fryer trauma–might murder me if I made her house smell like cooked canola oil. But we did make chocolate chip cookies, so Sunday morning I show up to church with a tupperware container full of the extra (read: cookies I specifically set aside so we didn’t eat them all up) cookies tucked into my purse and plans to accost Luke after the service.
No, not accost. That has a negative connotation. I’ll approach Luke with a winning smile and an offering of chocolate chip cookies.
Much better.
Since Jill and her family always sit up front, I usually sit with Etta in the back row, but today I don’t see her anywhere. I’m about to take a seat there anyway, when I notice a woman carrying a picnic basket. Who brings a picnic basket to church? Instinctively I know this must be Morgan Plosner. Her hair is even shinier than I imagined it. What is she planning on doing with that picnic basket? Inviting Luke to a picnic lunch?
I gasp. She probably is!
Well, two can play that game. I slide my tupperware out, clutching it in my hands as I follow her (at a safe, inconspicuous distance) to the front of the church. I’ll invite Luke to a chocolate chip cookie picnic. I think I even have a towel in my trunk we can spread out to sit on.
Although, it’s the towel I put on my back seat for Holly to sit on when she comes in the car, so it’s probably covered in her hair. She gets nervous on car rides and sheds like crazy.
Whatever, we can just stand. Yes, we’ll have a chocolate chip cookie standing picnic.
It’ll be great.
I slide into the row behind Morgan, pasting a smile on my face so no one around me can tell I’ve gone completely crazy. My body is buzzing with jealous energy. It’s bad news, but I can’t seem to make myself calm down.
“Miss Garza?” A voice says from next to me, and—having been completely lost in my jealous thoughts—I jump in my seat. “I’m sorry,” the voice—which I now see belongs to Connor Wilhelm, the middle school science teacher Belinda sent my way my first week at Grace Canyon—says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh, no. You’re fine,” I hurry to assure him, trying to wrap my mind around this new development where I have to act like a normal person while simultaneously harboring acute, somewhat unfounded, jealousy toward the woman sitting directly in front of me. “I just didn’t see you when I sat down. I was lost in my thoughts. How are you?”
“I’m good, and you?”
“Oh, you know, I’m fine,” I repeat my favorite mantra.
He studies me, his gaze entirely too perceptive behind his glasses. “I heard about your situation with the school board,” he says. “That must be tough.”
Some of my ire at having to make conversation in my addled state dissipates at his words.
“It is tough,” I say emphatically, giving him a genuine smile. “Thank you for saying that, Connor. You know, you can call me Hannah,” I add. “We’re friends, after all, not just colleagues.” Goodness, it’s entirely too easy for people to earn their way into my good graces. One compliment or show of empathy and suddenly they’re my new best friend .
“Oh, okay then,” he says with a pleased smile. “Hannah, then.”
There’s a sudden screeching noise from the stage as the microphone blares with feedback and we both look toward the stage. I’m surprised to see Luke standing there, and even more surprised to see him staring straight at me, though he looks away quickly going back to fiddling with the microphone.
“Sorry, everyone,” he says into it, his face adorably red. “Just doing a soundcheck. As you were.” He turns and heads quickly back off the stage.
“Did you see that?” I hear picnic-basket woman squeal to the woman she’s sitting next to. “He was so busy looking at me, he fumbled the microphone!”
“Oh, Morgan, you’re so lucky,” the other woman sighs. I knew picnic basket lady was Morgan! He wasn’t looking at you , I want to lean forward and tell her, he was looking at me! But then I remember we’re not in middle school. Or teenagers at a boy band concert.
“Hannah, did you hear me?” Connor, apparently oblivious to the drama unfolding all around him, asks.
“Hmmm,” I say, turning to look at him, but keeping one ear on Morgan’s conversation. “What did you say? ”
“I just asked if you had any plans after church?” he repeats, looking both nervous and hopeful at the same time. “Because if not, I thought maybe you’d like to grab lunch with me.” Well aren’t I in a pickle now. How awkward is it going to be to say no and then have to spend the next hour and change sitting next to him? But obviously I can't say yes either. If only I had specific plans. Oh wait, that’s right, I do have plans. I’m having a chocolate chip cookie standing picnic with Luke.
One he doesn’t even know about yet.
“Oh, thank you, Connor,” I begin, “but–” My words are cut off by the sound of another male voice saying my name.
“Miss Garza, could I have a word please?” I whip around to see none other than Luke standing at the end of the pew, talking around the three people separating us.
“Lu–I mean, Pastor Abbott,” I exclaim. “Um, sure.”
“Great.” He looks at the gentleman sitting at the end of the row. “She’s the art teacher at the school,” he informs him. “Helping us out with a special project today.”
I am? For a second I panic, then realize he’s just making an excuse for why he came from backstage out to the pews to specifically pull me away. A delicious thrill swirls through me. Clutching my chocolate chip cookies, I stand up .
“Excuse me,” I tell Connor, who nods looking a bit dejected. I consider leaning forward and asking Morgan if she’s met Connor, but Luke is staring at me with a wild expression on his face that I’ve never seen before, so instead I sneak past the remaining three people in the row and join him there.
“Hello,” I say stupidly, but he doesn’t answer, just turns and beckons for me to follow him. He’s walking at quite a brisk pace, so it’s a bit of a struggle to keep up with him in the heels I wore this morning in a fit of ‘I need to look extra gorgeous today so Luke is forced to agree with me about telling the elders about us’ (don’t ask me how I was going to handle wearing these during our standing picnic). When I finally do catch up to him it’s only because he’s stopped outside a door.
We’re backstage now and there’s no one else nearby. Even so, he opens the door handle, holding a hand out for me to go inside. I have no idea what’s gotten into Luke, but I do as he’s asking and step inside what appears to be a storage room. There are shelves of random supplies and a rolling cart stacked with chairs. I don’t have time to look at anything else though, because a second later the door is shutting behind us and Luke is turning me to face him.
One long second passes where his eyes meet mine and I realize with a burst of heat that the wildness I saw in the sanctuary was hunger, then the next he pushes me back against the door and captures my mouth with his.
I’m so shocked I don’t respond right away, but then, then I sink into this long-awaited kiss. My tupperware of cookies drops to the floor as my arms start to rise up to wrap around his neck, but then, as quickly as it started the kiss is over and Luke steps back looking completely horrified.
Not exactly an encouraging response. Especially considering how good that kiss was for me. Nobody wants to be the bad kisser in a relationship.
“Oh geez,” he rasps. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.” He rakes a hand through his hair, looking completely tortured.
Unfortunately, his kiss left me in some sort of hazy, dreamy state, one where apparently I can’t talk.
That has never happened to me before.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he goes on in response to my silence. “I-I,” he flounders, lifting a hand in the direction of the sanctuary then letting it fall to his leg with a slap. He locks eyes with me again to finish his sentence. “I saw you talking to Connor Wilhelm, who, by the way, I’ve always liked…before today, anyway.” He draws in a breath. “But, dang it, Hannah, when I saw you smile at him and the way he was looking at you–” he breaks off, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. That was…I should never have…”
“Luke.” I put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Were you jealous?”
His answering flush is perhaps the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever seen. Which I know is not very mature of me, okay? I shouldn’t be this delighted that a man was jealous over me.
But I am. So sue me.
Still, despite my delight, I decide to be benevolent and put him out of his misery. “Did you happen to see who I was sitting behind?” I ask him. He shakes his head. “Does the name Morgan Plosner ring a bell?” I ask. “Perhaps if I string it together with the words fried chicken. Something I heard she offered you last week.”
Luke cocks his head at me and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Jealous?” he rumbles.
“Insanely,” I reply, stepping toward him, ready for another kiss. But Luke steps back, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, embarrassment flooding me. “I thought…. I mean…I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to, you know, kiss again. I misread–”
“Hannah,” Luke’s voice is tight as he interrupts me, “you are pushing my self-control to its very limits.”
“Oh.” I sink back against the door, my knees having gone weak beneath me. Right, silly me. Luke and I are not supposed to be kissing because we are just friends. I forgot about all that because well, he’s a really good kisser. A few beats of silence pass, then Luke speaks.
“I’m going to have to tell the elders about us,” he announces. “I hope that’s okay. I’d been planning on asking you if we could, but I wanted to wait until after your meeting with the school board. I didn’t want to mess that up for you, but,” his anguish is evident as he speaks, “now that I’ve gone and kissed you, I’m not sure that I can wait. Not in good conscience anyway. I’m so sorry, Hannah.”
“Luke.” Love for him swells inside me. Yes, Luke is a pastor and as such people hold him to a higher standard. A standard in which kissing me in a storage room when he’s supposed to be staying single per a contract he signed, is an unforgivable offense. But even pastors mess up. I think the fact that he insists on owning up to his mistakes is a representation of his true character. After all, God has shown over and over again that he uses people who are broken–broken, but willing. Broken, but desperate for His grace.
“I was planning on asking you after church if we could tell the elders,” I tell him. “I know we both haven’t felt right about the level of intimacy developing between us despite our commitment to staying just friends until your contract expired. That’s why we’ve stepped back from our friendship these last few weeks, but,” I sigh, “I’ve missed you so much, Luke. I really wanted to tell the elders too, but I was worried it was selfish of me to ask you to risk your job for the sake of my conscience.”
“I don’t deserve my job if I continue to lie about the feelings I have for you,” he says firmly. “I can no longer pretend they’re anything but romantic feelings.”
Do not squeal, Hannah, I instruct myself firmly. Don’t do it .
Digging deep for the demureness that is surely somewhere in my genetic code given Jill’s ability to regularly act in such a way, I hold back my squeal and simply smile.
“So when are we going to tell them?” I ask, still smiling.
“The sooner the better.”
Okay. Maybe a tiny squeal just escaped my body. It’s not my fault. I’m noisy by nature. “Agree,” I say quickly, attempting to cover my squeal.
Luke grins at me. “I'll ask the elders if we can hold an emergency meeting tonight.”
“Sounds good. I can make tonight work. Or should I not be there? I don’t know which would be better.”
Luke considers this. “I’m not sure either,” he says, “but it means a lot that you’re willing to stand by me. Especially after what I just did.” Again he looks ashamed of himself.
“Are you referring to the way you dragged me in here and kissed me?” I ask lacing my voice with amusement in an effort to get him to stop being so hard on himself.
“Hey, I wouldn’t say I dragged you in here,” he protests, his expression lightening. I’m overcome with the urge to be that person for him—the one who shares his burdens and makes him smile even for just a moment during times of trial.
“You know I’m still waiting to hear what this special project is that I’m supposed to be helping you with,” I tease. Luke looks sheepish.
“I can’t believe I said that,” he says with a groan. “I wasn’t thinking straight. You have that effect on me,” he says ruefully. “Ever since I caught you doing the Lego robot with a bunch of kindergartners I’ve been out of sorts—running carnival cake walks when I’m supposed to be mingling, procuring pottery wheels, saving an after school art club accused of producing phallic art…” he trails off with a shake of his head. I’ve been smiling as he talks, but my smile fades as his words jolt my brain, reminding me of Lexie Stone and her veiled threat last night.
“Oh gosh, Luke,” I moan. “I forgot all about this, but last night Lexie Stone dropped Ellie off from a playdate and made a smug comment about Ellie being very informative while she was at their house.”
“Wait, you don’t think Ellie mentioned the FaceTime call she saw between us?”
“I don’t know what else Lexie could’ve been talking about.” I chew my lower lip anxiously. “I would hate for her to rob you of the opportunity to tell the elders on your terms by telling them about us first.” I suck in a breath. “What do you think we should do?”
As he thinks Luke eyes his watch. “Three minutes until the start of service,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Not enough time to hold an emergency elder meeting,” I say morosely.
“No, it’s not,” he agrees, his gaze swinging off his watch and up to me, lingering on my mouth in a very unfriendlike way. He clears his throat and jerks his eyes away with a penitent shake of his head. “Good grief, I can’t wait to kiss you again, Hannah. I might just have to go out there and tell everyone right now.”
“Luke!” I gasp with a giggle. “You can’t be serious!”
“That probably wouldn’t be the best choice,” he says regretfully. “No, I’ll just have to see if the elders can meet after the service for lunch.”
Ha! No picnic lunch for you, Morgan.
“Sounds good,” I tell him, then bend down and pick up my Tupperware off the ground. “And here, you can offer these as a peace offering.” I proffer the cookies, some of which, I notice with a grimace, are now broken from their fall—eh, worth it.
It’s only when I’m back in my seat, lots of curious eyes on me, that I remember something else. I still haven’t told Luke about my past, specifically Marshall.
But it’s fine, I assure myself. I will tell him. The only people who truly know everything that happened with Marshall are my sisters (and probably Max), and they’ve been sworn to secrecy per the “we don’t talk about The Disaster” oath I made them take. So it’s not as if there’s any risk that someone else will tell him first.
So I’ll just wait and see how things go with the elders, and then I’ll tell him.
Luke walks out onstage and in spite of my angst I let out a happy sigh.
Maybe I’ll wait and see how things go with the elders, then, assuming they go well, spend the afternoon kissing Luke…then tell him about Marshall.
Yup. Good plan.