The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (14 page)

“Don’t understand why you didn’t date. You’re attractive.”

“I intimidate men. I can’t understand why I have to pretend I’m not who I am to attract them.” She shrugged. “And I’ve always been a geek.”

“Have not. You were cool in college.”

She chuckled. “No, I was such a geek I frightened other geeks away.” She shoved the swing back and forth with her feet. “In college, I was younger and smarter than anyone, which did not make me popular.” She shrugged. “Not that I cared. You may have noticed I don’t have really good people skills.”

“Oh?”

She laughed. “Of course you have. I shoved people away because I really did not know how to act. I still have no idea how to carry on a normal conversation with anyone outside the family or science, although I’m good with children. Over the years, I’ve found it’s easier to be alone than make the effort to figure out relationships.”

“Maybe you could learn?”

“Don’t know if I want to and I’m pretty old to change. Besides, guys never seemed more important to me than parasitology. A few broke up with me because I was smarter than they were. The rest did because they expected me to spend time with them.” She sounded truly amazed. “Can you believe that? They wanted me to go to a movie with lots of explosions and breaking glass instead of working in the lab or reading journals.”

“Yeah, men are like that.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “If I were a normal person and really wanted a relationship, I’d recognize it’s necessary to spend time together, but I don’t want to.”

“Being normal is overrated.”

“Spoken by someone who never had to worry about fitting in.” She closed her eyes. “I’m a geek and a loner. I’ve accepted that.”

“You get along with Gussie and the Miltons, Janey and Hector.”

“Everyone gets along with them.”

They swung in silence and enjoyed the coolness of the evening until Adam said, “Look what you’ve accomplished.”

“Look where I am now.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand that ended up pointing at herself. “The motivating goal of my life is gone. My dreams have crumbled and my health is shot.”

“You’ve just returned from serving a refugee camp in Kenya. That’s pretty good.”

She shook her head. “You’re so full of crap, little brother. I’m a colossal failure.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Heavens, no,” she responded. “They set me up with counselors in Kenya, then in Germany, and finally in London. I’ve talked for hours and hours, confessed my weaknesses, listed my strengths. I tried to accept my fears and express the horrors of the camp.” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath before finishing. “None of that helped.”

He considered her words. “Okay.”

“Don’t start with the God talk,” Hannah warned. “I’ve heard it and I know it’s your job, but don’t.” She held up her hand. “I’m sick and miserable and a failure. I lost my faith after seeing a few hundred children starve. God didn’t help then. God won’t help now.”

He pushed against the porch to increase the motion of the swing. “What do you know about sheep?”

Her eyes flew to his face. “That again? I don’t want to talk about sheep.” She put her feet on the floor of the porch to stop the swing and stood.

“Psalm Twenty-Three,” he said.

She turned and ran into the house.

A crestfallen and completely disheartened crew of Widows gathered at the diner on Monday afternoon. Each sipped her coffee and broke off tiny pieces of blueberry muffins left over from Saturday to pop in their mouths.

“I’m sorry, ladies, and I’m ashamed.” Winnie shook her head.

“Hannah looked stunned and so unhappy when she realized what we were doing.” At the memory, tears gathered in Mercedes’s eyes. “She ran away from us.”

The Widows had become maudlin.

“Yes, it’s a mess,” Birdie said, “but nothing to cry over, not yet. There’s no crying in matchmaking.”

“I felt ashamed to be part of it.” Winnie flipped her notebook open and clicked the pen. “She looked so little and thin and vulnerable.”

Blossom pursed her pink lips and cooed softly.

Birdie had no idea what that sound meant but felt sure it didn’t count as a vote of confidence in the matchmaking skills of their leader.

“On top of that, the coach didn’t seem interested,” Birdie observed.

“Not a bit,” Mercedes agreed. “Seemed a little frightened.”

“Do we agree that the method that worked so well with dozens of couples did not work with these two?”

“We should probably study our failure,” Winnie said.

“Study our failure?” Mercedes asked.

“Yes,” Winnie stated firmly. “What have we learned from our failure?”

Birdie nodded. As much as she hated to admit it, they had cluster-failed.

“We’ve learned we can’t use the same strategy for everyone,” Mercedes said.

Winnie added, “And that both of the people we choose should be in good physical and mental health.”

“Sam wasn’t,” Birdie pointed out.

“But Hannah’s not ready,” Mercedes said.

Birdie glanced around the group and saw resolve in those three faces, even Blossom’s soft, pudgy features. They refused to follow her here, at least in their efforts to match Gabe and Hannah. Looked like she had a rebellion on her hands—except she agreed with them, all three of them, even the cooing Blossom. They had failed. “But if we give up on matchmaking, what do we do?” She turned to Blossom. “What about wedding plans.”

“I’ve tried.” Blossom’s chin quivered.

Mercedes patted Blossom’s hand. “It’s not your fault they haven’t made any plans yet,” she murmured.

Whole place felt soggy with all the mushy sentiment.

“No, it’s not.” Blossom straightened and smiled. “They’re not a bit cooperative. The preacher and Gussie seem perfectly happy to be engaged.”

“Maybe we need to stop pushing so hard,” Mercedes said. “I’m fine with those two being happy. After all, we never thought the preacher would get married. Now he’s engaged. We did a good job with him.”

“That’s right.” Winnie nodded. “We should leave them alone. No need to meddle simply because we need something to do.”

When had Birdie lost control of the group? Winnie should know that meddling was precisely what they did very well, and as often as possible.

“But, ladies, if the wedding planning isn’t going well and the matchmaking has failed, what is our purpose?” Birdie looked around the group again, studying each face.

“I thought our purpose was to go around doing good.” Blossom smiled beatifically. “We could just do good deeds.”

All four considered that.

“Sounds good, but what does that mean?” Winnie asked, always methodical. “What else can we do?”

“Suggestions for good deeds?” Birdie asked in what she considered her most encouraging and least aggressive tone.

“The thrift shop is running well,” Winnie said. “We all take our shifts.”

“The emergency food pantry is well stocked.” Mercedes finished off the last bit of muffin. “No need for a food drive.”

“Looks like our good works are up-to-date,” Birdie said.

“Does anyone have a suggestion for another project?” Winnie asked.

Three of them shook their heads, but Blossom lifted hers.

“I have a vision,” she said in a more determined voice than Birdie had ever heard her use before. She even stood. “I have a goal for the future. I want to turn that old gym into a community center. To sand down that floor or replace it, to redo the plumbing and electrical, to put up a new scoreboard and bleachers.” She lifted her hand in a dramatic gesture that encircled all of Creek County. “I see this as a place where all our people can come together—Baptists, and Episcopalians, and Methodists, and Catholics.” She paused. “Do we have any Jewish people in the community? Doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand. “A place where
all
people gather, where children can be tutored and the older youth can have an indoor recreation site, where old men can play checkers when it’s raining and women can quilt and make clothes for poor children.”

Birdie, Mercedes, and Winnie watched her in amazement, eyes wide and mouths open, at least until Winnie snapped her notebook shut and said, “That’s a lovely vision but that’s not one of the choices. We have to decide between matchmaking and wedding planning.”

“Oh,” Blossom said and dropped back on her chair.

Mercedes patted Blossom’s hand. “That’s a wonderful vision. Keep that in mind. Maybe someday.”

As Birdie considered the blighted future of the Widows, she looked around the diner. Her eyes stopped at the big corner booth. A glimmer of a new mission began to form, not Blossom’s but a more practical one. “I have an idea. Winnie, take notes.”

They’d let Reverend Patillo off the hook for months, but they had to do something or give up their reputation as matchmakers. And her plan was too good to waste.

D
o you want me to go to church with you?” Janey asked from the top of the staircase.

Hannah gave her hair one more rub with the towel and hung it on the rack. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine. You go on. Meet me in the sanctuary after Sunday school.”

“You will come?”

Hannah studied Janey’s concerned expression. “Don’t trust me, huh?” The knowledge that Janey had been let down by adults prompted her to add, “I’ll be there. I promise.”

“Okay.” She turned and Hannah heard her feet echoing on the staircase.

Janey had no cause to worry. Hannah had left the house so seldom since she arrived. She gardened and ran and that wrapped up her activities. Not that she felt safe inside the parsonage, not after the Widows ambushed her with Gabe, but she owed it to her brother to go to church and support him. She hadn’t been to a service since she left Kenya. No matter how often her mother had invited her, then nagged her, Hannah had refused to go. But Adam served this church and she’d like to watch him lead the service, preach a sermon.

Besides, Gabe wouldn’t be there this morning. She’d heard—because she shamelessly listened to any conversation that included or mentioned him—that he was visiting his family in someplace called Big Spring. Texans certainly liked to name towns after bodies of water.

Not that his absence mattered, of course, not to her.

She had nothing, not a thing, not a blessed thing, in common with the man.

Unfortunately, she possessed a previously unrecognized yearning and a well-hidden weakness for gorgeous men, at least this particular one. Her interest in him could constitute a much delayed stirring, perhaps her womanhood awakening from years of hibernation within the logical lair of science.

In the rare moments she’d felt this way before, she usually ignored the spasm of womanliness, shoved it away and picked up an article on vectors of duplication in a water-borne virus. However, with Gabe she couldn’t disregard the attraction. Fortunately, she wouldn’t see him so she didn’t have to worry about anything that might lead to a messy or emotional relationship. The awareness curiously depressed her.

“Bye,” Janey called from the hallway. “See you in church.”

Plus, she’d promised Janey, a commitment she’d never go back on.

Didn’t take long to get ready. She fluffed up her hair, squinched it a little, brushed her teeth, and smoothed on a tiny bit of lip gloss because she was, after all, going to church. After slipping on a neat white shirt and dark blue slacks, she stuck her feet in sandals—and there she was. Clean, neat, and professional. Ready with almost an hour to spare.

Ten minutes before the service began, she put down her book, fluffed her hair a little more, and headed out. Most of the people entering the church or standing outside chatting smiled or waved at her. Janey ran from the steps to the sanctuary to greet her.

“I’m here,” Hannah said, but before she could do anything or say another word, the Widows swept out of the church like vultures gliding off a telephone wire after spying a particularly tasty bit of roadkill.

Oh, yes, roadkill. That’s what she suddenly felt like. She wanted to escape but couldn’t move. Janey held her hand on the left while the Widows fanned out to surround her in front, in back, and two on the right. For a moment, she wondered if the Widows hovered by that door to leap on unsuspecting visitors. Actually, in her case, she had not been unsuspecting but had underestimated the speed and accuracy of the four women.

“Hello, ladies.” Hannah forced a friendly greeting and a smile.

“We’re so glad to see you,” Miss Birdie said.

The other three murmured agreement.

“Let’s introduce her to everyone.”

And they did. Herding her—now her metaphor broke down because the Widows could not be both vultures and Border collies—they steered her into the yard and began introducing so many people whose names she either would never remember or didn’t hear, because they dashed around the yard so fast. Within two minutes, she’d met twenty people. Then the Widows ushered her into the church.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Blossom said. “We’ve re-covered the cushions and replaced the curtain in front of the baptistry.”

“Very pretty.”

“A generous donor,” Winnie said as she, Mercedes, and Miss Birdie subtly nodded toward Blossom, “donated to have the air-conditioning fixed so we’ll all be comfortable this summer.”

“How lovely.”

As Hannah spoke, Janey tugged on her hand. “Let’s find a place to sit.”

The service reminded Hannah of the church in Maysville she’d grown up in, without a great deal of liturgy but friendly.

With a glance at the bulletin, Hannah realized the service was heavy on songs about sheep and shepherds, probably because the scripture for the day was the Twenty-Third Psalm. The mention of sheep made her suspicious.

After the worship leader read the Psalm, Adam stood from behind the pulpit.

“The Lord is my Shepherd,” he repeated as he stepped from the chancel and walked across the front of the church, the section between the chancel and the pews. “What do you know about sheep?” Adam looked around. “Anyone?”

The familiar question made Hannah even more apprehensive.

“They smell bad,” Ralph answered.

“Exactly. What else?”

“They wander off,” Winnie said. “We had some when I was a child.”

“They follow any sheep wherever he goes,” someone else shouted.

“Stupid creatures,” another added.

“They get lost,” Gussie said. “Easily.”

“Absolutely right,” Adam said. “Shepherds have to go out and find them.”

Adam really had people taking part in the sermon. A great preacher, but she didn’t trust him. She knew this was the sermon he’d wanted to preach to her. If she could have left now, she would have, but she couldn’t embarrass him that way. Besides, Janey held her hand tightly.

He turned and slowly walked up the steps to stand behind the pulpit but didn’t say anything, only moved his gaze around the sanctuary. “And yet, the writer of Psalms compares us, you and me, to those smelly, stupid, easily led astray sheep.”

A few laughs came from the sanctuary.

“Did you pick that up in this morning’s scripture? ‘The Lord is my Shepherd.’ That Psalm is talking about us, folks, comparing us to sheep. But in a good way.

“‘The Lord is my Shepherd.’” He leaned toward them. “What does that mean to you? To me, those words mean that even when we go astray, mess up, get lost, even when we smell bad, God loves us, God is with us.”

God is with us
, Hannah repeated silently.

“During the hardest of times, God never leaves us lost and alone,” Adam said. “God doesn’t leave us stranded on a mountainside. God loves us and cares for us even and most especially when we feel farthest from Him. When we are lost, God seeks us out. When we are alone, God finds us and tenderly lifts us into those strong and gentle arms.”

Hannah took a deep breath and held it. He was talking to her. Not that she’d doubted that from the beginning of the service. Everyone needed a sermon, a promise like this, but Adam had known she really did. She’d refused to listen to him because she could be a stubborn jerk at times. For that reason, he’d given it to them all.

“God carries us to green pasture.” Adam came down from the chancel and into the front of the sanctuary again. “When we thirst, God leads us to still waters. In the midst of the storms and crises of life, when we are abandoned by friends, when we are lost, God restores our souls. And surely, with the Lord as our shepherd, ‘goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives, and we shall dwell in the house of the Lord our whole lives long.’” He paused and looked around the sanctuary until his gaze found Hannah. “Amen and amen.”

Hannah let the breath out and pondered his words. “Thank you,” she whispered. Peace filled her as his words soaked into her injured soul.

Gabe entered the diner at seven o’clock on Monday morning, a week after what he mentally called the fiasco with Hannah.

Not that he’d hidden from her or the shared embarrassment. He’d dropped by the parsonage several times since—had to discuss recruiting with Hector, and Adam was his friend. When he was there, Hannah wandered in and out on the way to the kitchen or out to the backyard to garden with Janey, but she ignored him completely.

This morning, he’d come to the diner for breakfast, at Miss Birdie’s request. Before he could even look around for an empty spot, Miss Birdie shoved him ahead of the dozen others waiting for a table by holding his arm tightly with the arm that didn’t hold the coffeepot. For a moment, he resisted, but that hot coffeepot so close to his body concerned him.

Might as well give in. As she dragged him along, he realized she had a great deal of strength in her skinny arm. Probably from lifting all those trays.

“Nice of you to invite me to breakfast.”

“Just a welcome to town.”

He didn’t mention he’d been in town for months, since the beginning of the school year, both because that would be rude and because she was pulling him so fast toward a booth that he didn’t have time to consider a suitable answer. His only focus became not to run into a chair or to trip over people’s feet as she dragged him inexorably behind her.

“Miss Birdie.” He pointed to a group of men, fathers of players on the basketball team, at one of the tables. He attempted to tell her he’d sit with them, but by the time he’d formed the words, she’d stopped before a large booth in the corner of the diner, secluded and certainly too big for only one person.

Besides, there was another person already there reading a newspaper. He recognized Mattie Patillo, the minister of the Presbyterian Church.

“Hello, Gabe.” The minister put her
Austin American-Statesman
on the table. “Might as well join me.” She waved toward the other side of the booth, and he slipped in.

With a nod, Miss Birdie said, “I’ll bring you coffee and breakfast. I’m giving you a senior citizens’ discount.”

Hadn’t she invited him to breakfast? Never mind. He could afford it.

“I see Miss Birdie has trapped you.” Mattie spread jelly on her toast before she looked up at him and smiled.

Nice smile. Dimples, even. Gabe had never noticed that. Well, he hadn’t seen her very often, just at community events where she looked very ministerial. Still did, actually. She wore her dark hair pulled back in a braid of some kind. Sweet, round face, but the smile and the dimple turned her into a real person. Not, of course, that ministers weren’t real people. He knew that from Adam, but, okay, she looked like an attractive woman, if he could forget she was a minister.

Before he could respond to her remark, Miss Birdie approached with a cup of coffee and placed it in front of him. “Isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?” She glanced at the minister, then back to him. A triumphant smile stretched across her face. He’d already learned not to trust that. She turned to serve other tables, still wearing that look of victory.

“If you haven’t guessed, we’ve been set up.” Mattie chuckled, a warm, friendly sound. “I’m surprised this hasn’t happened earlier.”

“Set up?” As she spoke, he realized that Miss Birdie had fooled him again. He struggled to accept it, to admit that these ladies could be so sneaky. Yes, they’d tried it at the parsonage. If they were attempting to fix him up with Mattie, they must have given up on forcing him and Hannah to be a loving couple. Guess they realized starting over presented a better option than to push him toward a woman he repulsed.

He’d hoped they’d have more persistence. From what his friends told him, the Widows had pushed Sam together with Willow and paired Adam and Gussie for months, but they’d given up on Gabe and Hannah after an hour.

When he realized Mattie expected him to say more, he added, “Looks like we have. Do you mind?”

Waiting for her answer, he glanced around to see the eyes of every person in the diner watching the booth, their gazes quickly sliding away when he looked.

Seemed he was the last to realize why he and Mattie were here. They all lived in Butternut Creek or the surrounding territory, where everyone knew everyone else’s business—or if they didn’t, the Widows would tell them.

Mattie waved her hand dismissively. “I’m used to it. Miss Birdie and her cohorts believe they are called to marry off all single people. In fact, people have nicknamed this particular table ‘the courting booth.’” She paused and counted on her fingers. “You’re the sixth possibility they’ve tried for me.”

“Oh?” He took a gulp of coffee. “Six men?”

“First was Adam.” She touched her index finger. “You know, ministers have so much in common. The Widows thought we should get married and raise holy, reverent, well-behaved children.”

“Didn’t work?”

“Obviously not. We’re good friends but there was no attraction. After he met Gussie, the Widows recognized we were a lost cause.” She touched the next finger. “Then there was the Catholic priest who’d left the church only a month earlier. Not quite ready for marriage. And the really good-looking insurance salesman who’s now serving time for fraud. Actually, those are the best ones. The rest I’ve attempted to forget.”

“Here’s your breakfast.” In front of him, Miss Birdie set down a platter covered with huge mounds of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and grits bordered with sausage and bacon. A plate of waffles covered with fruit and whipped cream followed. “Be right back.” She hurried away.

His first thought was that he couldn’t possibly eat all that food, but he knew he could. He picked up the jar of salsa and poured it on about everything on the platter as Miss Birdie set butter, syrup, and an enormous glass of orange juice on the table and moved away. Still grinning.

“All those calories,” Mattie said with yearning and a little anger in her voice. “I envy you.” Then she pulled over her grapefruit half and picked up the spoon.

After a few bites, she asked, “Don’t you have to teach today? What time does school start?”

He glanced at the clock over the door. “I’ve got plenty of time. Classes start at eight but coaches don’t have to show up before…oh, noon. If at all.”