Copywrite 2000 * Elizabeth Delayne
It was his turn to guess the girl with the secret.
But Ray Carmichael, despite his best effort, couldn't keep his eyes off the girl with the cute, pointed nose and the large brown eyes. She was here with someone else—a frat brother of his, no less, who sat on the blanket beside her. Their relationship seemed fairly polite, as if they were just getting acquainted, and the nineteen or so inchest of informal space between them was a comfort for Ray.
His date was his friend Sheila Donnallee, and both were happily free from attachment. They'd met his sophomore year, her freshman and had hit it off in an awesome friendship kind of way for the past three years. They attended the same church and her sorority was the sister to his fraternity.
He wondered if he knew her, or if they'd met. It was the eyes, he thought, the way the edges crinkled when she laughed or smiled. It drew on his memory . . . or had there been another girl, whose wide smile and laughing eyes drew him to take a second look.
He and Sheila had arrived right before the festivities began, as did most of guys his age, and had only noticed her when he'd caught her eye after sitting down. He graduated at the end of his third year--last May, but his fraturnity had kept him active for what would have been his final year.
The brunette had already taken her turn placidly on the panel and her clue, that something was sparkling in her eyes, had been a bold-faced lie.
The perky and slightly boyant blond to her left was the one who'd gotten engaged the night before. Her fiance pledged into the fraternity with Ray and she had been part of the formals for the past two years.
He sighed and looked around at his friends; his fraternity-family, the brother's he had pledged with were almost as close to him as his own. Almost.
It was nearly Christmas. There was a slight chill in the air, but it was a beautiful night, the dark sky dotted with stars.
They were sitting around on colorful blankets on the banks of Belmakka Lake. A large, popping bonfire kept the night alive. It was the Casual—a simple get together for everyone to meet all the dates and to socialize before the more formal night tomorrow.
Shelia was on the panel now, boisterous and funny, claiming to have something secretive literally up her sleeve.
He wouldn't know, but he didn't doubt it.
The girl next to her said that she had eaten devilishly the night before. From the looks of her, he doubted she ate at all.
And the third, with green eyes and long blond hair claimed to have money in Europe.
He was the first one to guess and he chose the in the middle—who had just happened to eat a box of devil food cakes the night before.
Someone called for a break and the motion was whole-heartedly seconded. Some stood quickly and hurried over to the parked trucks where the food was stored. Others stood and stretched, some moved to migle guickly. The rest just sat back and watched—as Ray did.
The brunette across from him seemed to know people, or people knew her. She was wearing a loose pair of plaid flannel pants and a simple red sweatshirt over a white tee-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail, stray peices curling around her face.
"Who is she?" Sheila asked, leaning forward enough so that her face appeared in his vision. He had the grace enough to blush.
"Sorry—-I don't guess I'm the best company."
"Well, you're usually better, but I'm more interested in this thing going on with you and that date of Peyton's across the way."
He leaned back as he laughed and rested on his elbows, looking up at the sky before he answered, "There is nothing between me and the date of Peyton's across the way. She's just cute that's all, and oddly familiar."
Sheila snorted, "Cute . . . and she has eyes for you."
"And you're imagination's running wild," he turned his head and frowned at her, "I'll admit that I've been watching her, but she's Peyton's date."
"She came with him to casual, but he's not seeing anyone seriously right now, and she's got to be from out of town because I've never seen her before. If rumors can be trusted, he was still scrambling for a date on Wednesday night after church. Besides," she added, punching him in the ribs with her elbow, "she's had her eye on you half the night as well."
That made him take another look, but she the blanket across the way was empty and she had disappeared into the crowd.
* * * * *
Abby Lane punched her brother in the stomach, but it didn't phase him. He had abs like a rock.
She curl her hand out of a fist and stretched her fingers. "Just tell me who he is."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'm not setting you up with any of my fraternity brothers."
"I don't want you to set me up. I just want to know who he is. Besides, it's a Christian fraternity."
"But you get to know people in a fraturnity a little too well. Christian or not," Tim frowned at his sister and passed her a paper cup filled with orange soda. Those brown eyes of hers were so like their mother's, pleading, heart-breaking. He sighed. "Just for the sake of asking, who do you want me to introduce you to?"
"That one over there—the one with the navy sweater and jeans. The one talking to the blond."
Tim chuckled, "No they're not dating. That's Sheila Donnallee and Ray Carmichael. Ray and I pledged together and we all go to church together."
She laughed, a short delightful chuckle, "That's where we met. When I came up and stayed with some of your friends my junior year in high school. We went to some social thing at the church, played a few rounds of spades, then to Denny's early the next morning."
"Yeah," Tim frowned over it for a moment, remembering. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. Now that he thought back, he remembered.
His protective alarm bells had gone off that night--not because anything inappropriate had gone on at all, but because it had been an almost an instant easy affection easy . . . communication between the two. He'd seen the spark. Nothing had come of it anyway. She'd been in high school and Ray had been taken, his girlfriend sitting at his side for most of the night.
Ray was a good guy. Tim would trust him with about anything. To pray, to discuss. He was fun, smart, and had a strong base of morals and knowledge. There weren't many people better than him.
But Abby was his sister.
And she was also grownup. Smart, able to take care of herself and wanting to date. Goodness, he wanted her to date. He didn't want her to be alone for the rest of her life.
Why not encourage her to date someone he trusted?
Because he didn't want to think about it.
He sighed, battling the protective inner turmoil. If there was anyone he trusted with Abby it would be Ray, though he didn't want to think about it too long. And knowing Ray, a happy bachelor, he doubted anything would come of it anyway.
"Okay, Abby. You owe me one."
* * * * *
"I don't know. I'm more than a little worried. Calyn hasn't said anything about those papers since we turned them in two weeks ago."
"Last year he spent thirty minutes on the lack of business sense in one paper. You should be glad he's quiet," Ray cautioned, leaning back against a tree as he sipped his coke and mingled. He was currently talking about Dr. Calyn, one of the more respected professors in the school of business. "No one makes above a B anyway."
"You did—" Carlton admonished.
"Yeah, but Ray's the pet," David jumped in. "He smoozes with the upper crust."
Ray just chuckled, having heard it all before. "You're just upset because he always called on you in class—"
"He only called on me when he knew what he was jabbering about. No one reads those books. Not all the way through."
"You've got to own the book, Dave, before you can read them."
David's remark was answered by someone else this time and Ray's attention drifted to the in the flannel pants. She was standing now with Tim—and the family resemblance was suddenly apparent.
It was nothing overt. No one would say that they looked alike, but there was a teasing mannerism in her stance as she interacted with him, and he remembered, a night some time ago, when Tim's younger sister had popped up one weekend for a visit.
Ashley . . . no, Abigail. Abby. Her name was Abby.
He remembered now. He'd gotten some details from Tim three years ago. No, not from Tim but from Abby herself. They'd sat and talked for what seemed like forever. She'd been in high school, but any immaturity that existed because of their differences in age had been covered by a smart wit and mind.
The visit had been short. One of those quiet memories that rested pleasantly in the back of your mind. They'd had a good time hanging out, laughing about anything and talking about nothing. It had all ended so abruptly that there had been so little reason to dwell on it.
But boy, had she grown up.
Stepping through the circle, he slapped David on the back and ambled slowly over to where Tim and Abby were talking. He would talk to her, put the face and the memory with the woman she was now. Then his mind would settle.
And his heart would beat a decent pace.
"I can't believe someone would bring his sister to a frat party."
Tim glanced over at him and smiled, "Ray—you remember Abby."
"Sure," he stuck out his hand, noted the surprise and easy welcome in her eyes. Shy, but eager, hesitant, but wanting. "It's hard to forget a women who enjoys corney jokes, religion and politics at three in the morning."
Tim laughed, "Only you would discuss Augustine with a sixteen year old."
"It was C.S. Lewis. We were talking about the books he said that all children had read and I hadn't," she looked at Ray and smiled. In fact, the leather bound set she'd discovered in a second hand store were a few of her most treasured pieces. Since then she'd picked up every C.S. Lewis book she could find—it had become a hobby, she told herself, having placed her memories of that one morning with Ray in the back of her mind. Mostly.
"I've since corrected my misfortune."
"Mom and dad weren't into spiritual uplifting stuff in the home. At church it was fine, those once a week Sunday morning visits."
Abby cast a sharp glance in his direction, saddened, Ray thought, by the dismal past their parent's divorce had left them in. Ray knew a little of the history, and knew how Tim struggled with the bitterness.
It was a negative tone that seemed to surprise even Tim. He glanced down awkwardly, the strain showing in his jaw, and sighed, a heavy, uncertain sound that spoke volumes about what had happened during the last phonecall with their dad. Abby started to reach over and take his hand, but he shook his head, taking a step back.
"Hey, look . . . since Peyton's disappeared, and you're here now, would you mind giving my kid sister some company until her date comes back? I've got my own priorities," he said, nodding across the way to his own date.
Abby watched him walk away, the look in her eyes soft and sad. Then she glanced back at Ray and her smile reappeared as her eyes focused on him. "So this is your last year, right?"
"I graduated early—last May. I'm rushing through my M.B.A. right now. Trying to get out as soon as possible. Why stay four years when you can make it in three?"
Abby chuckled, "I don't think Tim has your foresight."
"He'll make it. And then he'll move on and study something else. Or somewhere else."
"He's not happy in one place. He got that from our father," she smiled ruefully and turned to look out at the lake where the light met with the darkness. "And he's not happy right now. But he's a sticker and he's not going to settle for someone who wants less then him. Especially not with Christianity."
"He's grown a lot in the last year."
"Yeah. I was worried for while. He's been so angry since mom and dad separated."
"How long's it been?"
"Which time? He must have been a freshman in college the first time, or maybe it was right before he came to college. But things fell a part . . ." she shook her head and laughed, "It's just getting to me. Sorry. When I arrived this afternoon we sat around and talked and laughed like we haven't done in years. And we did some remembering . . . and some confiding," she admitted, albeit reluctantly.
"Tim called dad a couple of weeks ago, out of the blue. He wanted to settle things between them, but nothing got settled . . . and then dad started questioning Tim's motives and something about mom got in between them. I don't know," she lifted her soda up for a slow slip. "I'm just glad I got to come. He's sounded a little off lately."
"How come you haven't visited before, or in awhile?"
"Over protective brother syndrome. And he only suggested I came because poor Peyton needed a date," she glanced at her brother and smiled wistfully. He was standing with his date, a short red head with freckles. "And I think he was a little homesick for some family conversation. My mom hasn't been too talkative lately."
"Well, I'm glad you came. I want to see what you thought of Lewis."
"And Clark?" she said guiley, referring to the quick, naive response his date had given when he'd first mentioned the books three years ago. She'd known about the books he was referring to, but he'd caught her wit when she'd responded in turn and she'd been so proud of herself at the time for impressing one of her brother's friends. "You do know those travel journals don't have the spiritual spark you said they did."
His eyes sparked and he took Tim's spot, leaning back against the car, "Maybe we should cover some of the basics again."
* * * * *
Abby was intelligent, he thought as he watched his headlights highlight the dark pavement of the narrow tree lined road. He would give her that much. And sweet and funny and energetic. They'd talked until Peyton returned, then talked some more as the group grew to include Sonia, Tim and his date.
He'd never enjoyed himself more.
And, he thought, lifting his shoulders up to stretch the muscles in his back, he'd never worried over a before. He'd never had to. None of them had ever fit this way before. None of them had ever made him want to think of the future, or readjust his plans that he'd so carefully planned out step by step.
"You've run low on things to say," Sonia spoke into the silence.
Ray frowned over it and reached up to scratch his eyebrow before letting out a breath.
It was late, long past mid night and the road from the lake was long and dark. They'd left long after most of the crowd had dispersed and were now the only car in view. He thought of Abby and, as worry crept in, prayed for her safety. Tim was driving the four of them home, and Ray trusted him, but it was dark and it was late, and he was surprised at his own concern.
"I'm just tired."
"She was captivated by you, Ray."
She had the most beautiful eyes. And smile. And he'd found himself making jokes so he could hear her laugh all over again. He'd found himself fumbling around for intelligent things to say because he liked how she would sit back and think, her eyes looking up as if she'd find her response written among the stars.
What was wrong with him?
"She's Peyton's date," he said it to remind himself.
"A casual one."
He stole a glance at Sonia and made sure she noticed his frown, "And she's Tim's sister."
Sonia snorted, "Is that what has you worried? Tim wasn't pulling the two of you a part, was he?"
"No, but . . . I mean I'm not even supposed to be at the formals anymore. I graduated, remember?"
"And?"
"And I . . . Im already into grad school, tied to the program." He reached forward, thinking of it, and turned the radio on low. He was focused and it was important to him to be focused on school. He didn't need a distraction like Abby.
But man, he hadn't wanted to leave her, hadn't wanted the night to end. She was going back to her own school Sunday afternoon, back to her own friends, her own life, her own plans. And there was probably a boyfriend for all he knew.
"I'm almost through with school," he reminded himself, his hands clenching the steering wheel. "This time next year I'll be looking for a job, interning, ready to move up into the world."
"Oh, my. She really has you rattled," Sonia chortled. "My goodness, Ray, y'all had a good time, a good conversation. You hit it off. You shouldn't have to be worried over the future."
"I know that."
It was what had him worried.
* * * * *
Abby rolled over and lay on her back, looking at the ceiling. She knew she should be tired, but she was wide wake. Tugging the thin comforter back up she smiled. She was the one with a secret now. And it felt so wonderful.
Ray was . . . so nice and funny. His expressions were calm, sedate. His eyes showed him laughing along with the slight lift of the corners of his lips. He had a deep spiritual center that wasn't flashy or overt. She remembered it from the last time they'd spoken three years before. It was sincere, she thought, and well thought out, not just believed. It was in his eyes, his voice, as they'd talked of what she'd discovered in the C.S. Lewis books.
And his hands! They were strong, his motions not practiced by any means, but when he used his hands to gesture it was a deliberate motion.
He was almost too good to be true. And it was silly to have a crush on a man that would disappear from your life in a few days.
And she'd never been one to use her prayers for wishes—not since those prayers she'd prayed during her parents divorce, fairytale in their simplicity. God hadn't kept her parents together, or rather, her parents had kept themselves apart, miserable and angry.
She wasn't sure where the line was drawn between wishes and prayers anyway. The Bible said that God would grant you the desires of your heart, not every pithy thing you wanted.
So as Abby stared up at the ceiling, she simply admited to God that she liked Ray, that she really, really liked Ray, and she thanked God for the good time they'd had tonight.
And maybe, she thought, knowing it was more of a wish then a prayer, maybe God would find it all right if Ray would find the time to dance with her at the formal. Just one dance.
* * * * *
There was nothing like football to get a girl off your mind.
The total aggressiveness, the brutalness of being pushed and pushing into the dirt. The purging of feelings by the pain of body to the ground. The release of emotion, thrown into one wild tackle to just the right person, the energy flowing through, warming skin in the cool air that surrounded the game.
Over and over again.
Ray and Tim rolled off the ground together in one smooth motion, then faced off, ignoring the helping hands offered by their fraternity brothers. Ray reached to touch a hand to his arm, feeling the sting of the most recent bruise he'd taken as they'd gone down.
They'd both been after each other all morning, primed to deal with what they both saw as a problem. They wouldn't talk. You just didn't simply talk to the guy who's sister was driving you mad, nor did you calmly tell the object of your sister's affection to stay away.
It was obvious both had avoided mentioning either to Abby.
"What's the deal?" someone asked, "it's a flag football game, man. Meaning, pull the flag, don't push the body."
Tim frowned over the words, the look in his eyes hard and pointed as he stared Ray down, "It's nothing," he said, easily enough, slowly turning around. "Just got caught up in the spirit of the game."
The way he said it, spirit sounded more like the latest dinner surprise in the cafeteria.
Ray went after him, caught him by his arm and moved in front to face off again. It wasn't a welcomed movement.
He dropped his hand, met the mulish look with one of his own. Neither bothered to notice the group of their brothers back ten paces, "If you're trying to tell me over and over that Abby's off limits, your waiting your time. I'm not going after her."
"I never said anything about Abby."
"Why? Because she'll cut you in two if she knew you stepped in between us?" Ray spat. "She can. In know she can. It's a good quality. But there's nothing there. Not for us."
"That's bull," the look in Tim's eyes was hard and angry. His arm jerked, wanting contact, but he pulled it back in easily enough, his fingers closing into a fist. If Abby noticed a mark on Ray, she'd guess and she'd be right. "Someone on the other side of the lake last night could have seen the sparks flying between the two of you. Why do you think Peyton stayed away so long?"
"Why didn't you step between us if it bothered you so much?"
"I'm not running Abby's life."
"Just not when she can see it," Ray quipped then sighed when the fire in Tim's eyes sparked to life. He glanced away, and worked the words together in his mind. He was patient, and he was known for his patience. He rarely spoke unless he'd thought out the words, rarely moved until it was the optimum time. It was what made him as good as he was in business.
But this thing with Abby had messed up even that advantage.
He worked his jaw around words, tried not to think of Abby, especially with her brother standing not two feet away ready for an all out fight. Finally, he said a little lamely, "It's just not going to happen."
"And why not?"
"Because . . . it's just not."
"Because you say so? Because you're willing to walk all over my sister's feelings? Because you can't make a commitment to anything but your degree?"
Tim knew it wasn't true and Ray knew that he knew. His degree was important, but it wasn't his life. It was just something he excelled at, something he was good at. His life was planned out in smart business sense, and thought he supposed he would get married at some point, he'd never factored it in. The time didn't matter. He was patient and he was a visionary for anything else but love. He just didn't see it happening now.
Abby was a surprise. Thinking of her had kept him up last night. He'd tried not to remember her brown eyes or that wide smile that beamed so often. He'd tried to forget the music of her laugh or the seriousness of her eyes when they'd discussed Lewis.
Ray ran his fingers through his hair and took a step back from Tim. Distance. He needed distance. "Are you trying to punish me for looking at your sister or convince me to do it again?"
Tim frowned, and took his own step back, looking as confused and wary as Ray, "Neither. Just watch your step."
Ray watched Tim walk away, stopping only to pick up his towel. He slung it over his shoulder and kept walking, looking alone, heavy burdened.
So Ray prayed. He certainly didn't know what to do. He wasn't ready for Abby. And he certainly wasn't ready to take on Tim again.
* * * * *
"Okay, let's see the dress."
Sonja and Renee stepped back as Abby pulled down the plastic department store dress bag. Underneath was a simple gold and silver dress of the smoothest satin. The color pattern was more of a checked or a plaid look that blended the colors together. It would hold onto her shoulders with capped sleeves, and follow her curves down through her midriff before gently, slowly flaring out down to her toes.
"It took me three months to find this dress for my own formal next week. I don't suppose it'll be bad luck for me to wear it ahead of time," she smiled, holding it to her chest and swirling around. She'd had a blast all day with Sonja and Renee. They'd gotten their hair and nails done together at the local beauty college—and while it had taken a long time for the girls in training to finish, the three of them had laughed until their sides hurt, then laughed some more.
"It certainly brings out your eyes," Renee sat back on the edge of her bed and smiled at her boyfriend's sister. "Ray's going to get his eyes blessed tonight."
"Peyton, you mean."
"Well, it's Ray that's going to be looking. Even if he is bull headed enough to stay on the other side of the room."
Sonja laughed. They had avoided talking about Ray all afternoon, though she'd thought that Abby had been bursting with questions she'd been two intimidated to ask, "Don't look so shocked, Abby. And don't blush. Ray's a good friend. I enjoyed watching him fluster all over you."
Abby turned to hand her dress back on the door hook then sat with a plop of frustration on the bed, "Is it okay to be honest?"
Renee and Sonja both laughed and agreed. Abby lay back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling as she had last night. "When I met him a few years ago, I had a few thoughts to liking him. Okay, a little crush," she admitted sheepishly, causing the other two to laugh, "but it wasn't something I didn't get over and it's not like I've thought about him in . . . well, in awhile."
"But last night was different."
"I think so. I mean, I really, really like him. And he's really smart and funny and the look he gives me—"
"And it's so hard for Ray to give any girl a look right now," Sonja added for Abby's benefit.
"Why?"
"Because he's focused, and mule-headed, and I suppose there hasn't been another girl that has caught his attention recently. I mean, he dated for a good part of three years, only once even close to seriously . . . but since graduating last year, or maybe even before that, he was just focused on his degree, his career."
"Nothing else interested him," Renee added. "Not that business is his life. Ray loves his friends and he loves having a good time. His friends are more his life than anything else. And his relationship with God. I guess the way to put it is he's stopped wasting time. On relationships that don't matter."
"He's focused, has his priorities," Sonja piped in, "so, until he meets a girl that usurps those priorities, she's just not going to be important enough."
* * * * *
Ray pulled into an empty parking spot outside Sonja's apartment. He was feeling his muscles tonight. Not just from Tim's abuse, but because the five mile run had done him absolutely no good, except to remind him that he hadn't pushed for five miles in awhile.
He wanted to see Abby.
He closed his eyes and sat miserably in his car, waiting for the feeling to pass. He reminded himself that she would be Peyton's date tonight, that she would leave on Sunday, and that he had no reason to ever see her again. The feeling would pass.
For goodness sakes, he was too old for a crush. Once Abby was gone, his life, so briefly altered, would be back in the balance again. It was hard to believe that she'd walked into his life only last night. The brief meeting years ago didn't count.
And this one didn't either.
He berated himself all the way up the stairs to Sonja's second floor apartment, reaching up to tug at the tuxedo's bow tie before he remembered not to. He was standing at the door, trying to straighten it, knowing that Sonja would look at him and know and follow through with one of her pithy comments when the door opened.
And it was Abby who greeted him.
He hadn't realized until he felt the breath of relief leave his system that this was what he wanted. She looked . . . dazzling in a dress of gold and silver, her hair piled high on her head, ringlets drooping around her face with whisper-like softness.
"Hi," he said, caught up in the moment.
"Hi," she returned softly. "Sonja's not here."
"Oh?" he thought, well, I only wanted to see you anyway. He reached for her, his eyes never leaving hers, clasping her forearms gently. Her skin was soft, he thought, so soft. He let his hands glide down her arms, over her elbows, to rest at her fingers. He interlaced his hand with hers and drew her fractionally closer.
He wasn't thinking. Not clearly. Surely there was something that he should remember. Like she was Peyton's date. She was Tim's sister. And Sonja wasn't here. Why was Sonja not here?
But he couldn't let go of her hands, or let his eyes drift from her face. It was too perfect. It felt too right. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Sonja left an hour ago with Peyton. He thought it was best. She's had her eye on him for awhile."
"No she hasn't," he argued, and realizing the he was frowning over the situation, smiled, allowing himself to be relieved. He was relieved. "You look beautiful, Miss. Abigail Lane."
And you, he thought, his knees only feeling a little unnerved, are mine.
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