19. Check YesNo
19
CHECK YES OR NO
GEORGE STRAIT
Melody Man,
I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about a thousand times over the last week that I knew who you were. That when I saw you sitting in the pavilion the night of the festival with a record at your side and our friendship bracelet around your wrist, I couldn’t believe you were the “one”. The man who’d worked his way into my heart with words and lyrics, friendship and faith. I should have told you. I know that.
But, MM Ryan, I was so afraid. Afraid you’d reject me again. We’d just kissed the week before, and I’d felt like the Lord gave me peace about us. That seeking Him first, like Melody Man you and I wrote about—what we prayed about. That was the path I should take.
But then you were there and you were… you.
And although it's the truth, it was wrong. I’m more ashamed of my actions—of this huge misstep—than I can possibly say. And all I can do is beg for your forgiveness. I’m sorry.
I know I can’t make it right, but I am so very sorry.
Mood Music… Gin
“You look like you got hit by a garbage truck little sister.” Dakota wrapped Ginny in his arms and pulled her into his flannel-clad chest.
Ginny let her emotions flood her again, crying muffled tears into Dakota’s hug, and felt Sadie’s dainty arms wrap her into a Ginny-sandwich, hugging her from her back.
“I messed up.” Ginny sobbed into her brother, knowing the rest of her family was nearby and already privy to her colossal mistake. She’d driven home to her Mama and Daddy the night before, confessed everything that’d happened between her and Ryan, and received nothing but understanding, fervent prayers, and reinforcements in the shape of a slumber party with her sisters, who cuddled her through the night and reassured her over and over again that they were with her.
“We’re here,” Sadie affirmed, shushing into her hair. “And you look like a waterlogged mermaid straight from a fantasy novel, so you’ve got that goin’ for you.”
Ginny giggled through tears and swiped her swollen eyes with her hands. “I can’t believe I have to take pictures like this today. I’m a mess.”
“And I can’t believe Mama made us wear matchin’ flannel today.”
“You look good in flannel,” Sadie said, wrapping herself under Dakota’s arm after releasing Ginny.
“I’m sweatin’ like a hog tied up for slaughter,” he snipped, wiping sweat from his brow.
“I second that,” Lake said, joining them and nudging Ginny with his arm. “You doin’ okay, Virginia?”
“Nope.”
“Figured.” He tucked her under his arm, gave her hair a tousle as he usually did, but kissed the crown of her head with affection. “Give it time.”
She simply nodded, unable to respond.
Griffin, to Ginny’s right, took his turn hugging Ginny, comforting her and then whispering in her ear so that only she could hear. “I know it was you who put that glass Gus in my car last week…”
Despite herself, Ginny giggled under her breath.
Griffin kissed her cheek and said, “I felt like I was bein’ haunted. It was awesome… I plan to stick it in Lake and Georgia’s bed next week at Domino Night. You’re a genius.”
“Alright!” Joan Remillard clapped her hands together, garnering their attention and looking far too happy to be dressed in a purple flannel. She was attached at the hip to the Colonel, who wore a blue flannel with purple lines woven in and sweat stains visible in his pits. “All my babies are here, and we are ready to get this show on the road. Virginia Maple, sweetie,” she turned to Ginny, “I know it’s a tough day, but you are just as beautiful as ever, and I am just so thankful you’re willin’ to do this for your daddy and me.”
“‘Course, Mama,” Ginny offered her a smile, as if she truly had a choice in the matter, but she was happy to give this tiny gift to her parents all the same. Even if her hair was sticking to her sweaty neck and cheeks, her eyes were puffy, her skin was splotchy from overnight tears, and she’d be drenched in the Georgia heat before the day was done.
Her siblings and their children and spouses gathered round in a heap, sitting atop hay bales and beside piles of pumpkins as if they were jubilantly hanging out at a pumpkin patch, in flannel, in eighty degree weather… for fun…
“Well, isn't this such a gourd time,” Caroline chirped, holding up a wart covered gourd like a trophy and using her inner elbow to wipe a droplet of sweat from her cheek.
“Oh no,” Dakota sighed.
“Gourd gracious!” Georgia declared, fanning her face and booping Davey on the nose. “I do love a Pun-kin patch.”
“Stop,” Dakota groaned, but Sadie giggled at his side.
The Colonel winked at Ginny, and scooped Simon into his large arms. “Aren't we all just a bunch of country pumpkins.”
Theo slapped his forehead, falling into hysterical giggles, and the rest of the family carried on, making one another laugh—or in Dakota’s case, sigh with feigned exasperation—until the photographer had everything she needed and they decided to end the day with ice cold sweet tea, family dominoes, and a Charlie Brown movie.
Ginny spent the latter part of the evening on her parents’ front porch wedged between her mama and daddy on the swing but aching to return to the record store and see if maybe… just maybe… she’d find a note.
“Well, Baby Girl,” her mama began after a long pass of silence, “when all is said and done, we’re proud of you.”
“Proud? I lied, mama. I messed up. Big time.”
“Yeah, ya did, sweetheart.” Her mama brushed the back of her hand across Ginny’s cheek but then settled it on her knee. “But your broken heart… your shame and sadness over this mistake… it isn’t just because ya got caught in your lie, is it?”
“Not at all. I hate that I lied. I knew better and felt sick over it, but I did it all the same. It was wrong. So wrong… What does that mean for me? As a believer, ya know? And I hurt someone I love… I’ll never not be sorry for that.” She felt her lips tremble and eyes swell with tears, just when she thought she had no tears left to cry.
“I love him.”
The Colonel blew out a long, slow breath and wrapped his arm around Ginny, letting her curl into him. Yet again, she found herself sandwiched between two people she knew loved her unconditionally. “You’re gonna mess up, Sweets. Over and over again. But that conviction… the heartbreak over sin and how it’s affected others… that’s a good indicator of where you’re at with the Lord. It’s when ya don’t feel that ache and sickness over your sin that ya should start askin’ yourself the real tough questions about your faith.” He kissed her head. “If you’re abiding in Him—askin’ for forgiveness and repenting when ya screw things up a bit—if Jesus is where your home and hope lives, well… then you are exactly where ya need to be as a believer.”
She nodded against his chest, feeling her mama’s hand rubbing circles on her back. “And Ryan?”
“Well, Sugar,” her mama snuggled closer, “as for that man… We’ve all seen the way Ryan has looked at you over the past few years. I don’t think the way he clearly feels about you is gonna disappear overnight.”
“He’s hurtin’, and hurts just take time to heal, Baby Girl,” her daddy said, kissing her head once more. “But that boy pops outta his chair every time ya walk in the room, so I think y’all will be just fine.”
“He’s a man, Daddy.” Ginny felt a genuine smile lift her lips.
The Colonel sighed and pushed his foot off the porch, setting them swaying again. “We’ll see about that, Sugar.”
Melody Man,
I miss you. It’s been two days, but it feels like it’s been weeks. You won’t return my calls or texts and your silence is so stinking loud, Ryan. You weren’t at service today, and I get it. Truly. But I don’t want you to feel alone in this. You aren’t alone, okay?
My sisters said to give you time, but I wish I could talk with you about all of this. I wish we could walk Dolly together. I wish you’d yell at me or fight… and maybe then we could make this right and have that dance.
Gin
Melody Man,
Today is definitely a Civil Wars day… in the worst kinda way. (There I go, rhyming again).
It’s raining and finally cold, and I’ve sat in my loft, paralyzed. I’m praying for you.
For your heart.
I’m sorry.
Super penpal secret: My favorite color is green… because it reminds me of your eyes.
Gin
Melody Man,
Two notes in one day. You’re my diary again, and I can’t seem to help myself. Jan said I looked like “an opossum smacked by daylight,” so… things are going great here.
(They aren’t. I’m sad.) I’ve prayed through this. Man, have I prayed.
I know letting you believe I wasn’t Mood Music was wrong, but here’s the thing, I also have to believe the timing of all this was nothing but providential. God knew exactly when and why we’d both walk into this record store, looking for one thing but getting friendship in return. And I am not sorry for that, Ryan Hood. Not a bit. I soaked up every single letter you wrote and read your words again and again, so incredibly thankful for my secret penpal. Thankful for you.
And my mistakes, no matter how monumental, can’t change what God gave me in you.
P.S. Let it be known I was not the one who signed you up for the magazine subscriptions… Georgia told me how much you hated the Hobby Horse one.
Secret: Your laugh—the real one—is my favorite.
Yours,
Ginny
Melody Man,
Sorry about the glitter bomb. That one was me.
Ginny
Melody Man,
I think I may just start a comprehensive list of my secrets here for you…
Maybe I’m bored. But mostly I just want you to know me. To know my heart and know I’d never intentionally do something to hurt you…
Except for the time I purposely sabotaged things with the girl you briefly went out with a couple of years ago. Hadley? Hayley? Harper? I dunno… She had multiple french bulldogs and, quite frankly, was too attached to them for my liking. (She showed me pictures of her kissing them on the mouth)
Red Flags anyone?
Anyways, I might have definitely insinuated that you’d been treated for a full body fungus over the better course of the year and that it was repressed for the time being… but we couldn’t be certain it wouldn’t return.
Sorry. Kind of.
Gin
Melody Man,
Secret time: This one is big… so here we go.
I like soccer better than football. It’s just more exciting. They actually move around the field…
Please don’t tell anyone.
Ginny
Melody Man,
I came by the school today. Did you know? I’m assuming you did since you didn’t come to Danger’s office like you usually do. Hopefully he passed on the cookies and the dog treats for Dolly. Danger let me borrow his guitar, so I’ve been practicing a lot these past few days. And guess what, I almost have three whole chords. I’ll be a rockstar in no time…
My letters from the past few days are gone so either you are taking them—if Ms. Jan is to be believed—or someone out there is getting quite the one-sided entertainment.
I miss you. I keep wondering what socks you’re wearin’ every day, what color tootsie pop was in your lunch, or what song is playing on repeat in your head…
Ya know when we talked about hurdles and distractions in these notes, I never could have imagined I was praying for you and myself. It's kind of funny if you think about it… Especially if ya leave out the whole—I didn’t tell you who I was when I was supposed to—bit. Anyways, the hurdle feels so much larger now because I don’t see myself jumping over it.
So, I’m gonna wait. I’ll be patient and wait this whole thing out and keep praying. Praying you’ll forgive me and that you’ll see me not as your friends’ little sister, or the girl you don’t know how to feel about, but as a woman… in love with you.
Because I am.
Secret time: I wanted to be your date to the Homecoming Dance. I know that sounds childish, but man would this former clogger love to dance the night away with Sugartree’s most renowned drum major. (No, I will not be wearing the frou-frou dress).
Ginny
Melody Man,
Secret: I’ve been collecting novelty socks. It’s like I can’t stop. They’re organized by color, season, and pattern. It’s a great system. I’m sure you’d love messin’ it up a little.
Ginny
Melody Man,
Tonight is Homecoming. So, it’s been a week. One week since we’ve talked and I’m going crazy I’m trying to stay patient. But Ryan, can’t we talk? Please. I know you’re getting these letters… At least I think you are… And I have half a mind to march myself to your apartment to give you a piece of my mind. (And snuggle Dolly, because, yeah, I miss her too.)
So I’ll ask you—praying you’re the one reading these words and not your tattooed motorcycle friend—in the words of the great, George Strait,
Do you love me? Do you want to be my friend?
Check yes or no.
Virginia