Be My Neat-Heart (19 page)

A
fter seeing each other for several months, Molly and Ben decided to follow us to the altar.

My mother was a little confused at first. She couldn't get it out of her mind that I should be marrying Ben instead of Jared.

“But you've known Ben for five years, darling. You've known Jared for less than a year. That's not like you. When did you start throwing caution to the wind?”

It would have taken longer to explain that than it did for Jared and me to fall in love. Let's face it, I'm
not
like me anymore. I'm better.

God has worked absolute miracles in my life and in those of the rest of the wedding party. Jared is free, for the first time in nearly thirty years, from feeling that he needs to protect Molly from herself. Molly is alive, which is miracle enough. And Ben has found a soul mate. I suppose this wasn't one of God's most complicated situations, but it was plenty complex for us. Only He could have sorted it out.

Aunt Gertie and Arthur came to our wedding, of course. After the wedding, Aunt Gertie, a cheek pincher, grabbed Jared by the face and told him that if I wasn't going to marry
Ben, then he was definitely the next best choice. It's interesting that the only two people who didn't assume Ben and I would marry one day were Ben and I.

Aunt Gertie forgave us both, I know. She brought us matching gifts, a wedding present for Jared and me, an engagement gift for Ben and Molly. Now Jared and I and Molly and Ben will each have a chair in the shape of a high-heeled shoe for our living rooms. Ours is pink and black while Ben and Molly's is a garish red. Jared had a pretty horrified look on his face at the sight of it until I reminded him of how much Imelda loves shoes. She should have it eaten in no time.

 

“Leaving so soon?” Ben asked. “The reception is just getting started.”

It had actually been in full swing for some hours but Ben, obviously, was having a first-rate time. His new love hadn't let him out of her sight for hours.

“It's nearly midnight,” Jared said. “We're catching a flight to Hawaii at six a.m. You keep the party going. We've already said our goodbyes.” He clapped Ben on the back. “Take care of her for me, will you….” He paused as he caught my warning expression. “That's right, no more assigning duties. May God take care of
both
of you. He can handle it.”

Ben gathered me in his arms and gave me a bear hug. “It's perfect, Sammi, soon we'll be in-laws and you'll never be able to get rid of me.”

I squeezed back a tear. “Nor will I ever want to.”

 

We arrived at the door to my house where Jared swept me off my feet and carried me across the threshold. Then he set me down and kissed me soundly until the tips of my toes started to tingle.

“Here we are, Mrs. Hamilton. Home together at last.” He
looked around. “It's awfully quiet in here. What do you think they're up to?”

“‘They'? As in Zelda and Imelda? Probably sleeping. It's past their bedtimes.” I sighed. “I hope they're okay while we're gone. Wendy promised me she'd take care of them like they were her own. Knowing Wendy, that's not all that comforting.”

A single yip came from the direction of the kitchen.

“Wha—” We went to the doorway of the kitchen that Wendy—it couldn't have been anyone else—had blocked off with a pet gate. Beyond the gate were Zelda and Imelda, dressed for a wedding celebration.

Zelda wore a new collar with little bride and groom charms on it and a white sweater on which Wendy had stitched a plethora of white sequins. The cat looked as though she were imitating the Queen Mum.

Imelda was equally fitted out in bridal wear. She had a plastic tiara attached to the fur on her head and a fluffy white tutu hanging off her haunches. Wendy had appliquéd little silver shoes onto the netting. She yipped again and I would have bet a million dollars that they were posing just for us. On the table behind them was a miniature wedding cake with a sign sprouting out of the cake. “Warning—made of cottage cheese and tuna fish. Party on.”

A half hour later, as Zelda and Imelda lay sleeping at our feet, satiated, Jared and I curled together on the couch.

“Now I can leave assured that Wendy will take care of them,” I admitted. “I underestimated her. They may not even want me back.”

“Oh, I think they'll be pleased.” Jared tipped my face toward his and kissed the tip of my nose. “I know I'm thrilled to know I'm spending the rest of my life with you.”

“Are you?” I teased. “I'm a little high maintenance—the pets, my business, the cleaning fixation and all.”

“You don't think I can do ‘high maintenance'? After Molly, living with you will be a walk in the park.” He planted a kiss on my ear that I felt in my kneecaps. “Besides, I've been warned.”

“By who?” I sat straight up. “If it's Wendy, she's lying. Don't believe a word of it.”

He took me by the shoulders and turned me toward him. “
You
warned me, darling.”

“Me? I haven't said a word.”

“You didn't need to. I hired you to help me organize my sister's life, and you turned my life into chaos. I ended up with a wife, a new brother-in-law, an extended family and a pair of wacko animals who think they're human. Not only that, I'm spending my wedding night eating a cottage-cheese cake with a dog in a tutu and a cat wearing sequins and rhinestones. You've threatened to buy a goat and have a half-dozen children. Don't you think I've realized by now that you are not an ordinary woman and I've signed up for a life of pandemonium?”

“That does sound like a lot.” I tucked myself a little closer to my new husband. “Fortunately for you, I'm good at sorting out complex situations. What part of your life would you like me to organize for you?”

“Not a thing, darling, not a thing. I think we've finally reached perfection.”

Dear Reader,

Be My Neat-Heart
was a pleasure to write for many reasons. It is such fun to create characters that not only cherish their Christian faith, but also enjoy a good sense of humor. Laughter is a gift to be relished.

In the nonwriting part of my life, I am a personal life coach, so making my very organized heroine Samantha Smith a clutter coach seemed a natural thing to do.

I also understand Molly's side of the story. As a creative person, I'm very visual. And that, in my office, often translates into messy. If one's home is an outward manifestation of one's inward emotional state and we're looking at my office, I'm in big trouble. I'm always trying to master the paper and books I live with. To write a story about a clutter coach and her very frustrating client taps into two of my most familiar experiences.

I'm working on a master's degree in human development in the areas of writing, coaching and spirituality.
Be My Neat-Heart
has been a playful intersection of these three spheres. I hope you have as much fun with the characters as I have.

Blessings,

1. Is it true that external clutter reflects inner turmoil in a person's life? Can you think of examples from your own life?
   
2. Whom did you identify with in this story and why? Did you recognize anyone you know in the characters on the page?
   
3. Which character was it most difficult for you to relate to?
   
4. How does what happens in this story relate to your life?
   
5. Did you realize what Molly's problem really was or did it come as a surprise to you? Why?
   
6. Would you ever hire a clutter coach? What could he or she do for you that you aren't doing for yourself right now?
   
7. Have you ever been to a spa like the one Samantha goes to? What did you enjoy most about it?
   
8. Have you ever felt like you've been expected by God to do something very important and been unable to achieve it? How did it make you feel?
   
9. If you were going to give someone two of your best tips for keeping your life and home in order, what would they be?
   
10. What do you believe God expects of us in regard to our possessions and the care of them?