© copywrite 2009 by Sarah Baughman

Chapter 3

Zach knew it was a risk, but he had to ask Liz to go on the youth group’s camping trip. He hoped to get her alone for at least a few moments, so they could talk.

They had known each other for so long. Throughout high school, he thought she was pretty in a bookish sort of way, but he had been too busy with his sports teams and hanging out with his friends to think of her very much. When they both returned from college, he with a business degree and she with an elementary education degree, he started seeing her differently.

All of the young kids in her Sunday School class loved her and he saw what a wonderful mother she would make. He tried to sit near her at church services often and her sweet voice, both speaking the responsive liturgy and singing the hymns with the congregation made him want to hear her speaking to him. The easy affection she shared with her family – grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, as well as parents and siblings – made him want to receive affection from her and be a part of her family.

Just as he moved to pick up the phone and call the number he had memorized three years ago, it rang. Surprised, he glanced quickly at the caller ID. At first glance, he thought it might be Liz, for the first word was “Watson.” Seeing that it was followed by “James” told him that it was her parent’s house calling.

“Hello?”

“Zach! Beverly Watson here. No, Jim, I told you I was calling him. Sorry, dear. James and I were trying to decide whether or not we should call you. He thought we should mind our own business, but I’m afraid that some mothers just don’t do that so well.”

Zach didn’t know how to respond to this. “Um, what can I do for you?”

“Are you and our Elizabeth, well. . .” It seemed that Mrs. Watson was at a loss for words now that she had actually called.

Suddenly he heard Mr. Watson’s voice on another extension, “Are you an item?”

Zach didn’t suffer from nervousness very often, but at that, his stomach dropped to his feet, then shot back into place, full of moths tickling his insides. “Uhm. Well. . .”

Her father’s voice again spoke. “Would you like to be?”

Zach hoped his nervousness didn’t show in his voice. “Yes, sir.”

Something like a joyful female exclamation sounded through the phone, but then Mrs. Watson spoke in a calmer tone. “We think that’s fabulous, dear.” Mr. Watson grunted in agreement. “We noticed you sitting together today. Then, after church, she left before we could even say hi.”

“Did she?” Zach had never known that to happen.

“She seemed rather, well, flustered,” Mrs. Watson went on. “Would you like some advice?”

“Yes, ma’am. I try to talk to her. In fact, I tried to ask her out three years ago, but she thought I was teasing her.” Zach chuckled. “I’ve tried to be serious when talking with her, but she just ignores me most of the time. The only way I can get a response is to get under her skin. So far, I’ve just stuck with what works. But it isn’t working, really.” I can’t believe I’m spilling all this to Liz’s parents!

Mrs. Watson spoke again. “If you have a chance, if I were you, I’d force her to listen. By whatever means.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hold her til you’ve said your piece. Kiss her. Something to get her attention!” Zach couldn’t believe he’d heard that from Liz’s mother, of all people. “Elizabeth can be a bit dense when it comes to these things. She gets stuck in her books, thinking people in real life ‘make declarations’ and all that.”

“Hmm.” Zach digested what she was saying. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“No problem, dear. We’ve always secretly hoped you and she might marry one day.”

“Bev!” chastised Mr. Watson. “He didn’t say he was proposing.”

“But—”

“It’s all right, Mr. and Mrs. Watson.

“James.”

“Beverly, please.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Zach felt hope rise in his chest. “Oh hey, do you know if I’d ever be able to convince her to come camping with the youth next weekend?”

“She used to camp all the time as a girl, with scouts. She’s a great camp cook.”

“Thanks for telling me!” Zach prepared to say good-bye. “Oh, do you want me to let you know what happens?”

“No, we won’t poke our noses in your business any more,” said Beverly. “I’m sure if things work out, we’ll know.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Beverly. James.”

“Sure thing, dear! Good bye!”

“Bye.”

by Sarah Baughman (email: mailto:baughmanks@gmail.com)




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Sarah Baughman to thank her for submitting her piece or if you have a comment! She would really like to hear from you.





Return to A Man Like Mr. Darcy