The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 36

“HI, EVERYONE,” HE says, and I note that his voice lacks its usual confidence. He runs his hands nervously across his jeans. “Gosh, you know I’m a pastor so I do this public speaking stuff all the time, I shouldn’t be so nervous.” He lets out an uneasy laugh. “But I am because I messed something up really badly with someone earlier tonight and this is my rather pathetic attempt at trying to make that up to them.”

A few “awwws” fill the space as some of the women in attendance express their thoughts on what he’s doing. I want to tell them all to shut up so Luke can get on with whatever he’s about to do. Is this really even happening? Maybe my imagination has just taken off with me again. I pinch myself in the arm then wince. Yes, this is real.

I sit up straighter in my chair, trying to tell my body not to get its hopes up. Maybe he just wants to apologize for kissing me after breaking up with me. This doesn’t mean he’s changed his mind.

“So,” Luke goes on lifting the mic out of its stand, “someone once told me that real love songs should reflect the work someone is willing to put into a relationship. That love isn’t just about the emotions you get swept away in, it’s about commitment and letting someone know you’d do anything to be with them.” I sit frozen, unable to believe what I’m hearing. He said love, right? Everybody else heard that too?

“So, with that in mind,” like he’s been aware of exactly where I am this whole time, Luke’s eyes find mine, “Hannah Garza, this song is for you.”

My heart is beating so loudly in my ears that I barely hear the opening notes of The Proclaimers’ song that Luke caught me singing in my car so many months ago: “I’m Gonna Be”.

“I’m gonna,” he croons, and for a second the sweetness of what he’s doing is lost in the fact that his middle school choir teacher might not have been wrong…Luke’s voice is well…not the best...but then he keeps going, and I stop caring that his voice could double as a sound effect for a dying bird. He starts dancing as he sings, moving his body to the beat as he sings about waking up next to me. He stops singing all of the sudden, missing the next stanza. “Just a quick note,” he tells everyone, “since I am a pastor, after all: I don’t plan on waking up next to you unless we get married.”

A couple of people in the crowd laugh, but Luke just hops back into the song. “Get drunk,” he sings, then stops once more. “Again,” he says, “I’m a pastor, so I won’t get drunk with you, but the point of the stanza remains. I will drink a beer with you, sure. Non-alcoholic just as a personal choice. Or maybe a Shirley Temple, if you’d prefer. ”

More laughter from the crowd, and now I’m laughing too. Joy and humor intermingling so that my chest feels like it might explode with happiness.

“Haver?” Luke squints at the lyric screen. “What does that mean?” He runs a hand through his hair. “That might be for after marriage too.” Someone in the audience lets out a wolf-whistle and there’s even more laughing as he moves into the chorus.

I’m still sitting stunned in my seat, not quite able to believe that Luke is here, singing in front of a room of people–for me. Me!

Still, a cloud starts to overshadow the sunny happiness I’d been feeling as the ugliness of the rest of the night settles back over me.

“Hannah,” Jill hisses in my ear, “are you really just going to sit there and watch the man?”

I blink at her. Should I go up there? Part of me is shouting, “Yes! Girl, go get your man!” But another part of me is still confused. Only two hours ago Luke said he needed to focus on his job, that he’d asked God if he should keep pursuing a relationship with me despite all of the difficulties we’d already faced and he hadn’t heard back.

So what changed?

Because I think that I need an explanation.

Now, I know I need one.

I want to be with Luke, but I need to know that he won’t change his mind about me again.

I can’t go through this a second time.

Luke has made it through the refrain, proclaiming for all the piano bar to hear that he would walk a grand total of 1,000 miles to get to me. Ironically I just want him to walk across the fifteen feet separating us.

Almost as if he senses this, Luke moves to the edge of the stage as he continues singing, then crouches low, placing a hand flat on the stage before hopping off onto the main floor of the bar.

Despite how very off-key he is, the people still love this choice. A woman comes rushing forward shouting that he can come home to her if I don’t take him back.

“Sorry, I’m taken,” he pauses his singing to tell her, then continues moving through the crowd. He stops in front of our table just as he reaches the part about growing old with me and tears spark in my eyes, blurring my vision. At the sight Luke’s voice falters, and he misses the change to the refrain completely .

“Um, I’ll take that,” Jill announces, reaching over and grabbing the microphone from Luke and shooting a glance my way. “You two should talk.” She hops right into the song, heading back to the stage, lifting one hand up and down over her head to keep the crowd invested. At first there are some boos–they wanted to see what happened between me and Luke–but Jill wins them over quickly enough in her Jill way. Turns out she really can spin any room.

“Can we talk?” Luke asks me, his voice low. I don’t answer. “I know I don’t deserve any more of your time,” he says in response to my silence, “but if you could find it in your heart to give me just a few minutes more. I have so much to say to you. I-I was such an idiot before.”

“You can say that again,” Belinda interjects.

Right. Maybe I will go with him. I’m not sure whether or not Luke will say the things I need to hear, but either way I’d prefer not to have an audience for this conversation.

“Um, yeah, we can talk,” I say. I wince inwardly as I get to my feet, remembering that I’m not exactly looking my best. I set the mascara tube down on the table regretfully.

It’s too late now.

I suppose this will be a true test of his feelings for me. It’s easy to make proclamations of love to someone when they're looking their best, but it’s the professions of love when we’re at our worst that mean the most.

I follow Luke to the bar’s exit. He holds the door open for me, placing his hand gently on the small of my back as I walk through before retracting it quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “That was presumptuous of me.”

“It’s fine,” I manage, secretly wishing he’d put his hand back. Just his touch chased some of my anxiety away. “You, uh, wanted to talk,” I add as we come to a stop on the sidewalk. I cross my arms defensively over my middle.

“Yeah, I did.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “First off, I heard about your job. I…that…well, let’s just say I think the board is making a huge mistake.”

“Thanks,” I say, my voice strained. “Is that why you’re here? You feel sorry for me?”

“What? No. Of course not.” Luke’s eyes catch on my crossed arms and he sighs unhappily. “Oh, Hannah,” he breathes, “I’m so sorry. I messed everything up. I made promises to you, and then, at the first sign of trouble, I bolted. It was…inexcusable.” He lifts his hands as if to touch me, then seems to think better of it and shoves them into his pockets instead.

“Earlier this evening,” he continues, “I stood in that library, panicking about how I was sure my probation was now going to end with me being fired. That old familiar feeling of shame from that morning in college when I woke up next to a stranger started to creep up on me. Only this time it was public shame; like everyone in that room could see my inadequacies as a pastor, perhaps even as a human in general. I couldn’t think clearly. I had to get out of there.”

I think back to the library too, remembering the haunted look I’d seen on Luke’s face. Remembering too, that before he fled he made sure to tell everyone he still thought I should have the job. I don’t know why I didn’t recognize the selflessness of that before. One of my arms drops to my side.

“But you stayed,” I whisper softly. “You stayed until you were sure everyone knew I still had your support…Thank you.”

“I don’t deserve your gratitude,” Luke says.

“Well too bad,” I retort a bit huffily, “because you can’t control whether or not I’m grateful.”

“True,” he admits. “And you are entirely too gracious a person to allow my subsequent actions to rob you of that undeserved gratitude.”

I don’t answer, but a flush rises to my cheeks. When Luke compliments my appearance, it makes me feel wonderfully desirable, but when he compliments my character it makes me feel like he truly sees me. It makes me feel cherished and loved; like a picture of the way Christ feels about His church.

“Hannah,” Luke goes on, “after I left the library, I went on a long walk. I walked around and around, praying and desperate for God to tell me what to do about us. When He didn’t, I thought that meant He wanted me to stop focusing on us and start focusing on my work. So I came and found you and, hard as it was, I walked away from you,” his voice breaks, but he keeps going.

“Then as soon as I got back to my house I sank down onto my knees and just sobbed. I was a useless man. My dad called. My mom called. Will called. Email after email arrived from people at the meeting tonight. And I couldn’t do a single thing. All I could feel was bitterness toward every last one of them for destroying my happiness. Then I realized I was wrong. None of them had stolen my happiness. I’d done that all on my own when I’d walked away from you.” His voice, which had regained some of its strength, once again succumbs to emotion. I match him emotion for emotion, swiping away the tears gathering in my eyes.

“Then Will showed up at my front door, and he led me to a very clarifying second realization: maybe God’s lack of answer was not, as I’d thought, Him asking me to end things between us. ”

“It wasn’t?” I say hoarsely. Luke shakes his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“What changed your mind?”

Luke inhales, then lets the breath out long and slow. “Sitting there in a heap on my living room floor, talking to Will about everything that had taken place, I started to feel restlessness inside me, as if there was something that I was forgetting. Then Will asked me point blank what I desire most in this particular situation. The question threw me because what I desire most was never the question. I desire a relationship with you.” The way he says this—like it’s so obvious that I am what he wants most makes my heart pick up speed.

“The real question, I reminded Will, was whether or not a future with you was what God wanted for me or if all of the challenges we kept facing were His way of shutting the door on us. Will’s response was to quote a verse from Psalms to me, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” He then asked me if I felt that I was regularly seeking God’s will in my life. When I said yes, he asked me why then, if I truly was seeking God, was I not in turn allowing Him to give me the desires of my heart?” Luke’s gaze is full of tenderness as he looks at me. “The question struck me like a thunderbolt. I realized that I’ve still been punishing myself for my mistakes from years ago. I’ve subconsciously been looking for a reason to not be with you, because I was sure I didn’t deserve you. That I didn’t deserve any woman, but especially not one as wonderful as you.”

I suck in a breath. My impulse is to contradict him, but he’s completely caught up in telling me this story, so I swallow it back down and keep listening.

“Well, Will was quick to call me out for all of that. He was my roommate back then, did I ever tell you that?” I shake my head, finding I’m not actually surprised to hear this. I’ve watched him and Luke these last few days and they have a camaraderie born of years of friendship. “He told me to stop punishing myself for my sins and let God worry about whether or not I deserve the gifts He’s given me.” He holds my gaze. “Hannah, I know that if we get back together things are going to be difficult in the coming weeks. We’ll likely both be under scrutiny at the church and have lots of explaining to do, but I believe that allowing ourselves to be vulnerable with people will end up breaking the chains of others who may be living captive to their sins–past or present. And for me being with you is worth the rocky road ahead. So I’m here, outside your sister’s karaoke and piano bar, asking if perhaps you’d consider taking me back? ”

“Oh, Luke,” I murmur, taking a step toward him. He steps toward me too, tentatively at first, but when I smile at him, his steps gain more confidence. He comes to a stop only inches from me, looking down at me with love shining in his eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he asks. I nod and Luke whoops loudly, making me giggle. “I love you, Hannah,” he bursts out, “so incredibly much.”

“I love you too, Luke,” I whisper back and a smile spreads slowly across his face, like he’s letting the words settle over him. His hand rises to my face, gently cupping my cheek.

“Can you forgive me for being such a coward?” he asks earnestly. “And for all the ways I let you down tonight?”

“Hmm,” I pretend to think, teasing him a little as I answer, “a few days ago I may have said no, but I’m a pastor’s girlfriend now, so I have to act like one.” Luke chuckles, seeing where this is going. “And since the holiest thing to do would be to forgive you, I suppose I can,” I conclude.

“How about if I don’t need my girlfriend to be the holiest, I just need her to always point me toward Jesus despite my own imperfections?”

I grin. “That I can do,” I tell him. Then, just so there’s no doubt in his mind, I add, “And to be clear, I’d forgive you even if I wasn’t a pastor’s girlfriend.”

Luke laughs again. “Even so, I’m ridiculously happy that you are this pastor’s girlfriend.”

“I certainly waited long enough to be,” I say with an exaggerated huff of impatience. “Now are you going to make me keep waiting or are you going to kiss me?”

Luke doesn’t wait a second longer, he pulls me to him and kisses me, soft and sweet at first, then with a depth and intensity that communicates just how much he loves me.