9. Spirit Lead Me （Live）
9
SPIRIT LEAD ME (LIVE)
INFLUENCE MUSIC & MICHAEL KETTERER
“He wants to meet!” Ginny shouted into the phone as she stomped down the stairs from her loft to Good Start’s kitchen below. It’d been a few days since she’d been able to catch up with Sadie, which had given Ginny more than enough time to obsess over whether meeting Melody Man would be a good idea.
What if he’d expertly catfished her? What if he was a creepy old guy… or a teenager… or an Alabama football fan? Or, perhaps more terrifying, what if he was perfect? What would she do with that?
Sadie shouted on her side, equally excited, echoing Ginny, “He wants to meet!”
“Who wants to meet?” Ginny heard Dakota’s voice, though muffled and as if far away.
“Mystery man,” Sadie said, still talking to Dakota.
“Melody Man,” Ginny corrected.
Dakota sounded confused. “But I thought she was into Ryan?”
Ginny growled.
“She is, Wade ,” Sadie explained, calling Dakota the weird nickname she always used for him. “But, as we’ve established, Ryan won’t get on board with the very real feelings he obviously has for her. So Ginny is not gonna waste her time when a super hot, musically inclined, emotionally available man wants to meet her.”
“You said he’s a mystery. How do you know he’s hot?” Ginny heard the sound of water turning off at the end of Dakota’s question.
Ginny rolled her eyes and pushed into the empty kitchen but could hear the bustling of the shop at its busiest hour just beyond the swinging door. “Gross. Is he in the shower?”
“Well, he’s not anymore,” Sadie said with far too much appreciation in her voice.
Ginny blanched. “Sadieeeee,” she whined. “How many times do I have to ask you not to answer or call me when Dakota is in any way indisposed? It's a disturbing line between friendship and sisterhood.”
“I mean, I wasn’t in the shower with him, Ginny, so I’m not sure what the problem is.”
“It's nakedness by association, Sadie, and I don’t want any part of it.” Ginny flicked her eyes around the room, looking for snacks.
“Alright, alright. No more shower convos by proxy.” Sadie shut a door behind her—hopefully the bathroom’s—and jumped right back into conversation. “So, are you gonna do it? Oh my goodness, girl. This is huge. What if it’s someone you already know. Or someone famous, and he’s trying to keep himself on the DL?”
“In Honey Hill?”
“It could happen. Oh!” Sadie said, and Ginny could almost imagine her totally cool nonchalance, even in the midst of her excitement. “Or… what if it’s Danger?!”
“It’s not Danger.” Ginny spotted a pile of scones on the butcher block in the center of the room.
“It could be Danger. You don’t know.”
“He doesn’t sound like Danger. And I know for a fact that man does not have good taste in music. He once tried to convince me to see Nickelback in concert. Nickelback, Sadie. There’s no way he’s Melody Man.” Ginny grabbed a pistachio scone sitting on a plated pile in the center of the kitchen and took a nibble. Next to oatmeal raisin cookies, these were her favorite. Joan Remillard was a genius.
Just then, her mama popped her head in from the swinging door that led into the heart of Good Start, “I saw that, Virginia Maple!”
Ginny jumped, screamed, and threw a hand over her heart. The precious piece of pistachio flavored heaven nearly toppled from her hands. “Mama! Good gracious, you startled me.” She huffed, catching her breath. Her mama was a silent, ninja genius.
“Stop prowlin’ about and ya wouldn’t be so jumpy.” Her mother used a dry cloth to wipe invisible crumbs off the counter and then swatted it at Ginny’s backside.
“I’m not prowlin’, Mama. I live here.” She winked and grabbed another scone, quickly wrapping it in a cloth and shoving it into her bag. “And I’m on the phone with Sadie.”
“My Sadie?!” Ginny rarely saw Joan Remillard happier than when her children were together or interacting or on the marriage market. Sadie had been a family favorite from the beginning, and her mama had quickly taken pride in her as if she were one of her own.
“Nope,” Ginny said, hearing Sadie’s chuckles. “This can’t be your Sadie. Has to be a different one. This one…” she held up her phone and wiggled it in the air, clearly showing Sadie’s caller ID image: a photo of Dakota and Sadie holding a donut in each hand while wearing matching International Donut Day t-shirts that read Go Nuts for Donuts , “is married to some stinky Florida boy.”
Her mom smiled wide. “Tell Sadie Girl I love her.” She kissed Ginny’s cheeks and ran a hand over her curls, something she’d done ever since Ginny could remember. “And I love you, Virginia. Don’t forget about dinner Sunday night after your practice. We’re havin’ pot roast and apple pie.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” She kissed her mama goodbye and dashed through the door of the kitchen before her extra scone could be confiscated.
“Okay, so… what's the plan?” Sadie asked as soon as the sound of the coffee shop dwindled and Ginny made it into her car. “Are ya meetin’ him or not?”
“I think… yes? Maybe? I dunno,” Ginny answered, her voice totally non-committal. “I mean… we’re friends, and it’d be cool to put a face to the letters.”
“And…?”
“And… I like making friends.” Ginny turned off of a festively decorated Main Street, making the short drive over to the elementary school to bring Danger lunch. It was still hot and humid by midday in Georgia, but at least the autumn had been a colorful one. Even with her AC blaring, Ginny couldn’t help but enjoy the red maples and changing leaves of oak trees bracketing the roads.
Sadie sighed. “And you like the idea of this dreamy man writing you pretty words.”
“Pretty is as pretty does, Sadie Girl.” Ginny pulled into the lot and shut off her car. “But, yes, I like his pretty words, okay? Am I crazy? Is this whole thing insane?”
“I think it’s just crazy enough, Gin. What if God has this great man for you, whether he just ends up bein’ a friend or not? I don’t think you should waste time not knowin’ him better.”
“Yeah, me neither. I think I’m gonna do it! I’ll write him a few more times just to be sure.”
Sadie yelled her celebration and announced to a hopefully, fully-clothed Dakota, “Babe! She’s gonna do it!”
“There she is!” Danger said, jumping up from his desk and wrapping Ginny in a friendly hug. It felt like being enveloped by the arms of the Jolly Green Giant, as she barely came up to his sternum. He pulled away and went back to his seat, gesturing for her to take her usual chair across the desk. “You look pretty today, Virginia. Any special occasion?”
“Me? You’re the one in the button down and tie, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
Danger grinned, accentuating the barely-there dimple on his chin. “I have a dress code, Virginia. You work from home and look like you’re going on a fall picnic… with a maaann,” he sang. They’d obviously been spending too much time together.
“Newsflash. You, my friend, are a man.” Ginny looked down at the loose boho-style, rust-colored dress she’d chosen that morning. “And, this old thang? I just found it lingerin’ in my closet, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. ” She waved him off and fully committed to deny, deny, deny the fact that she’d specifically chosen this particular dress as she’d thought of the possibility of seeing Ryan that morning.
She heard the faintest reminder in her head from both her sister’s voices saying, We don’t wear clothes for boys , just as they had when she was growing up, but she flicked those pesky gals away. They’d sabotaged her. Chosen meddling over sisterhood. What did they know?
Did she have a wonderful time the other night? Yes. Had she repeatedly dreamt of Ryan’s green eyes as he softly whispered, You smell like warm brownies fresh outta the oven, Virginia , every night since he’d dropped her off.
Also, pathetically, yes.
But her sisters were busy bodies, and they would pay. She’d revoke their loft cuddling privileges. Or sabotage them in dominoes… Or teach their kids the wrong names for animals. The sky was the limit.
Ginny ran her hands over the cotton fabric of her dress and let her hands rest, clasped on her lap. “I just wanted to look nice to see my good buddy at work… and bring him a little lunch treat.”
“And…?” he wiggled his eyebrows, his ridiculously handsome smile tilting up his cheek. “I heard all about the Remillard mayhem last weekend.”
She covered her face with her hands and mumbled through her fingers. “Blehhhh. Who told you?”
“Oh, I got a first hand account from the man himself. Then from Carolina, who—by the way—was prouder of her work than a show dog on Thanksgiving Day.”
“She’s dead to me.” Ginny offered the spare scone to her friend and settled back into her chair once he took a bite.
“Hey, have you ever been to that record store in Honey Hill?”
He looked up from the scone, appearing slightly annoyed at the interruption of his love affair with her mama’s baked goods. “No. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person under thirty that even owns a record player, let alone knowin’ how to operate one.”
“Right.” Definitely not Danger, then.
“Good gracious, I’ll never get enough of your mama’s cookin’.” Danger groaned as he took another bite. “Are you sure we can’t just run off and get married now? I don’t wanna live a life without a permanent attachment to these scones.”
“You can’t use me for my mama’s baked goods, Daniel .” He hated it when Ginny called him by his given name.
Danger’s eyes narrowed. “I can try, Ginny .” And he’d been one of the first people she’d asked to call her Virginia. He only called her Ginny when he had a hankerin’ to irritate her.
“Your man bun is crooked.”
He flinched but didn’t adjust. “Is that any way to talk to a prospective husband?”
Ginny glared but held in her laughter. Danger had no more intention of marrying her than of cutting off his ridiculous man bun. Though she’d never admit it to him, he was the only person she knew who could pull it off.
A throat cleared and both their heads whipped to the door where Ryan leaned against the frame and then slipped, nearly toppling over at their swift attention. He had on a well-worn, Sugartree Armadillos’ t-shirt, sweats, and tennis shoes. And though he was dressed down compared to Danger, Ginny had a hard time looking away from him. He looked impossibly soft and warm and inviting.
“Oatmeal raisin cookies ,” she whispered to herself like a swear word.
Ginny clenched her hands together just to keep from jumping out of her seat and running her fingers through Ryan’s wavy hair.
“Um, hey, guys.” Ryan righted himself against the door frame again and tilted his head in greeting to Ginny, holding up his bag lunch. “I thought we were havin’ lunch in here, Mac, but I’d hate to interrupt this breathtaking proposal.” Ryan, though a friend now, only referred to Danger as Mac, short for Mr. McDuffey.
Danger merely shrugged, an extremely satisfied smile on his face as he leaned over his desk into Ginny’s personal space. “I’ve told you before, Hood, until you call dibs, she's on the market.”
Ginny scoffed and ripped the final bite of scone out of Danger’s hand. “I am NOT up for dibs!” She popped the scone into her mouth, stood, and straightened her dress before pointing her finger in Danger’s smug face, chiding, “No more scones for you. You’re officially cut off.”
Ryan stood at attention, blocking her path from the office. “Were you gonna stay for lunch?” He gave his lunch bag another small shake.
She’d eaten at the school with her sister and Ryan enough times to know that he packed the same lunch every day. A turkey and cheese sandwich, salt and vinegar chips, an apple, and a single tootsie-pop. He ate it in that order, with the same people—either Caroline or Danger, depending on availability—at the same time. Every. Single. Day. The man was a creature of habit.
“I had a scone earlier.”
“Wouldn’t call that a lunch.” Ryan gave her outfit a casual once over but then settled his eyes on her face. “Were you goin’ somewhere? You look… well, you look cute.”
Cute.
Danger hissed in a breath through his teeth. “Dude…”
“I have some errands to run,” Ginny clipped. To the record store.
She’d give Melody Man her answer and forget all about dibs and how a certain delicious, predictable elementary school coach would not, in fact, be calling dibs in her cute direction.
Ever.
Though he didn’t step closer, Ryan’s presence seemed to fill the space between them. It was always that way when he was anywhere in her vicinity. Danger and her annoyance and any thoughts of music or meddlesome sisters disappeared in the face of the man looking back at her now.
He reached in his bag and offered her a sandwich. “Stay for lunch? I have an extra.”
She pinched her lips, wanting to decline, but knowing she wouldn’t.
“Ok. Thanks.” Ginny turned, retaking her seat, and ignored the silly grin on Danger’s face as Ryan claimed the seat at her side. She took a careful bite of the sandwich he’d given her and nearly choked when Ryan pulled out another sandwich from his bag. “You actually have an extra sandwich in there?”
Ryan’s eyes flicked from his sandwich to Danger to Ginny. “Uh, yeah. No big deal. I, ummmm…. I forgot an entire lunch here yesterday, and then I brought a new one today.”
Danger shook his head and sighed before smacking his hands on the desk. “Ya know what? I just forgot I told… someone else… that I’d have lunch with them… not here. Anyways, so sorry.” He pulled out a sack lunch from his desk drawer and abruptly stood. “I’m gonna have to leave y’all here.”
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Ginny said under her breath. She imagined her eyes looked like giant, brown saucers. Puppy-dog eyes her daddy had always called them. She gave Danger her best puppy-dog— don’t you dare leave me behind —eyes now. Somewhere in the background a somber Sarah Mclachlan song played.
But that heartless giant showed no mercy. Instead, Danger leaned down and kissed Ginny’s cheek like Dakota would if he were there and had just stolen the last cookie from the cookie jar. She flicked Danger’s no-good butt chin away from her face and shoved another bite of turkey sandwich into her mouth, finding herself alone—again—with a man she desperately wanted to be alone with, who would never seek her out that way for himself.
Only the sound of Ryan’s quiet chuckling could pull Ginny from the dark, plotting path her mind had taken. She’d momentarily fantasized sending an anonymous note to the woman Danger had quietly loved his entire life, declaring his feelings for her. It felt conniving but on par with what her friend had done. Could no one be trusted?
“Do you think this is funny, Ry?” she asked as Ryan leaned back in his seat, put his feet up on Danger’s desk, and dove his fingers into a bag of chips.
“I’ve just never seen someone so desperate not to have a meal with me,” he said, somehow self-deprecating and smug all at the same time.
“You don’t wanna have lunch with me, Ryan.”
“I’m pretty sure I just asked you to stay for lunch, Gin.”
“Yeah, you did. But… it was under false pretenses. You were coerced. Bamboozled. Taken advantage of.”
“Bamboozled?” He was chuckling again. “I always seem to forget how dramatic you can be when you get carried away.”
She gasped and threw a piece of crust at him. Because, though she wanted Ryan to look at her like a grown woman, she still could not be tempted to eat the crusts of her sandwiches. “I am not dramatic! And you just proved my point. You forgot what I’m like because you can barely stand to be in the same room with me—”
“That’s not true, Ginny.”
She put her hand up, stopping him. “It is. And now you're in this same situation… again. And I'm sorry. And also, thank you, this sandwich is delicious. I wish I’d given you the scone.”
“I wanted you to stay, Ginny.” He placed chips and an apple on the desk between them. “And I didn’t need convincing, because I don’t mind your company.”
“High praise, Ryan.” She rolled her eyes. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’ll be the one with a marriage proposal.”
Ryan coughed on a salt and vinegar chip, and she totally didn’t take pleasure in the way his eyes filled with tears. She stared at them now, taking a crisp, satisfying bite of her apple.
“Ya know,” he said after taking a sip of water, “your eyes are awfully bright when you’re scaring a man senseless.”
“Bright? Bright is better than cute , so I’ll take it.”
“What is wrong with cute?” he asked, and brushed the crumbs from his hands onto Danger’s clean floor. Ginny felt the sudden urge to grab a dust buster and clean up a bit, but then remembered her friend’s betrayal and decided to leave the mess where it lay.
“ Cute ,” she snipped, “is how you describe a kitten in a wicker basket surrounded by sleeping ducklings. Not a woman in a dress.”
His eyes flickered with interest and he smiled wide. And despite herself, Ginny felt her own smile mirror Ryan’s.
“I’d like to see that,” Ryan said. “It’s next-level cute. That’s what my grandma would’ve called as sweet as pe-can pie . So, I guess I can see the difference…” He threw the apple in the trash by the door, sinking it easily, and… was he leaning closer?
“How…” his green eyes bore into hers, “should I describe your dress, Ginny?”
She cleared her throat and brushed her own hands off, throwing all sense of tidiness out the window. “Umm… you could call it—”
“Lovely?” he interrupted. “Maybe, appealing? Or…” he lowered his voice, eyes still staring into hers. Not once looking at the dress in question. Who even cared about this dress? Not Ginny.
“How ‘bout captivating…?”
They sat, eye to eye, both leaning just barely forward towards each other in a quiet stare down. Ginny wondered what the protocol was on kissin’ the living daylights out of the physical education coach in the guidance counselor’s office. Questionable at best, but she thought she might like to ask for forgiveness rather than permission in this instance.
Sadie’s mama would be so proud.
Ryan swallowed. Ginny zeroed in on the movement. Following the trail from his neck. And jaw. And then, lips. Lips he ran his teeth over…
“Coach Hood. You’re needed in the gym. Coach Hood to the gym ,” a highly irritating voice announced over the school’s loud speaker.
Ryan jumped up, knocking over his water bottle and his lunch bag. He paced the room twice and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a little messy and frazzled. Just how Ginny imagined it would have looked if she had run her fingers through it.
“I… uh… I have to—” Ryan motioned with his thumb over his shoulder to the door.
“Yeah. Um. Okay. Of course.” Ginny stood and Ryan jumped back like his feet had suddenly caught on fire.
“You, umm…” he glanced at his lunch bag as if afraid to reach out and grab it.
Ginny took pity on him and picked up the bag, water bottle, and scooped his trash into her other hand. “Thanks for lunch, Ry. I’ll see you at practice, right?”
“Right. Practice. Yes. I will be there. I’m the coach.”
She handed over the bag and didn’t miss the way Ryan carefully avoided any skin to skin contact between the exchange. “Wait. Before you go… are you wearin’ socks today?”
He rolled his eyes but pulled up a pant leg to reveal yellow socks with mustached footballs printed across.”
“I love them. They’re… cute,” she bit her lip and wiggled her eyebrows.
“I prefer adorable.”
“As sweet as pe-can pie.” She wondered how long she could keep him in Danger’s office, and she desperately didn’t want their exchange to end with Ryan running away. “And what color was your tootsie-pop today, Coach? You usually have one, right?”
“Coach Hood to the gym. Again, Coach Hood, you’re needed in the gym.”
They both glanced up at the speaker over their heads and then eyes flicked back to one another.
“Oh… I, um…” Ryan quickly dug into the lunch bag and pulled out a container carrying what looked like chocolate chip cookies and carefully put them on the table. An offering that felt much bigger than dessert.
He backed up towards the door, still watching Ginny, but now with a sweet tilt to his lips. “I was craving cookies.”