Chapter 14
Samuel
I feel so comfortable with Lucy that things keep coming out of my mouth that I probably should not allow to ever see the light of day.
But I also know that sometimes you just have to speak the truth and let the chips fall where they will. If I don’t tell Lucy how I feel, I might lose my chance. Someone like her isn’t going to be single for long.
“I think it’s perfectly okay to admit. And I’m glad you did. I didn’t know you very well since you were gone by the time Allison and I were in junior high, but I’ve admired you a lot over the years, particularly when you realized that you were going in the wrong direction, and you wanted to turn your life around. That’s not easy.”
“It was the right thing to do. I couldn’t have a spiritual conversion without it coming out in my everyday actions.”
“A lot of people claim to.”
She’s right. “Maybe that’s part of the reason why it was so important to me to make sure that I showed it. Because I’d seen people who hadn’t, and rather than drawing people to Christ, they repel them. I didn’t want to be that kind of person. If I truly believed what I said I believed, then I should live that way.”
She doesn’t say anything, and we fall into a comfortable silence. The song ends, and they don’t play another one. I don’t want to let her go, but I’ve run out of excuses to stand here and hold her.
I take a step back, allowing my hands to slide slowly off her while hers fall from my neck. I feel cold and alone without them there. And I want to step back into her arms.
“Are you ready to do some taste testing?” I say instead.
“Just let me talk to these guys for a minute and confirm a couple of things, and then I’ll be ready.”
We walk over. I stand back while she handles things. She’s not a suave and sophisticated businessperson. She is friendly with the guys and has them laughing, but not in a flirty or suggestive way. She knows how to make fun of herself, and to me, self-deprecating humor shows a strength and confidence that people who can’t make fun of themselves don’t have.
I love that Lucy does have it, but she doesn’t come off as arrogant or prideful. She just comes off as very humble but knowledgeable. And funny.
She brightens my life the way she brightens rooms, and I can see her having that effect on these guys too. They’re smiling as we walk away, and so is she.
“I don’t know how you do that with people.”
“Do what?” she asks, like she didn’t just spend the last ten minutes making those guys’ day brighter by her very presence. Even though they’re doing a job, and she made a few corrections, she didn’t do it in such a way that they seemed resentful or angry about them.
I know, from experience, that takes talent.
“You corrected those guys without them even really realizing it. By the time you left, all of them were still smiling. That’s not something just anyone can do.”
She doesn’t seem to get it, and I hold the door as we walk back into the house.
The warm air hits us, and I realize that it is cold outside. Funny that I don’t notice when I’m with Lucy. She keeps me warm.
“Oh my goodness, it smells amazing in here,” Lucy says as she waits for me to come through, and that’s another thing I really love about her. She doesn’t just take off. She shows, not deference, exactly, but a willingness to walk beside me, rather than in front of me. When she’s the one who’s supposed to be in charge. But she never takes that and runs with it. She uses her authority in a way that makes everyone feel included, although there’s never any doubt about this being her job.
“It does. I can’t wait to see what they’re going to have us tasting. Although, I’m still full from breakfast.”
I don’t know if I’m still full from breakfast or I’m just not hungry. I didn’t lose my appetite exactly, I just want Lucy. And the fact that I want her more than food says a lot.
“That’s funny, I’m starving. I think being outside in the cool air, walking around, or...I don’t know,” she says, lifting a shoulder and giving me a happy glance, like she’s totally content and satisfied even though I know she’s feeling stress about the gala.
We go into the kitchen, and the cook has an entire tray full of things for us to taste. She’s obviously been working on it since we stopped in.
“I hope you guys brought your appetite,” she says, nodding at the tray as she lifts the lid. “We put out all of our best for you. Now, if there’s anything you decide you don’t think we should have, or if there’s anything you think we ought to have a lot of, we’d love to have your opinion.”
She doesn’t stand over us though, but sets the lid down, points out that everything is labeled so we can know what we’re trying, and then walks back to the oven, opening the door to check something.
“Wow. I don’t even know where to start,” Lucy says as she looks at the spread of food in front of her and picks up one of the two plates.
“Have you had any of this before?” she asks.
I’ve had it all, but I hate to say that, because it’s almost like rubbing in how different we are.
I don’t want us to be different. I want us to have everything in common. But that’s ridiculous. We’re as different as two people can be. And the way she brings people together, I’m starting to feel like it doesn’t matter.