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  “Hello, Mother. Is something wrong?”

  “How’d you guess?” she asks.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Martin and I won’t be seeing each other again. That’s all.”

  I feel sad for her. I really do. She left here in such a great mood with high expectations for this evening. I wonder what went wrong.

  “He really has some nerve, Allison. You’ll never guess what he asked me.”

  I don’t think I want to know. This is probably one of “those” conversations that I’m uncomfortable with.

  “What?” I venture.

  “He asked me to go away for the weekend.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Oh, he tried the old ‘We’ll have separate rooms’ trick, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Although I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico, I’m not compromising my values for a free weekend. I won’t do it.”

  Double uh-oh.

  “Good for you, Mother. Good for you. Let me make you some hot tea.”

  “Thank you, Allison. Hot tea would be great.”

  I run water in the tea kettle and set it on the stove to boil. What do I say now? Oh, by the way, I’m going to Pittsburg with Ashton in a couple of weeks for a baseball game. And we’ll have separate rooms, of course.

  Am I being played? Would Ashton actually prove Trent’s theory correct?

  “Honestly,” Mother says. “I don’t know what he was thinking asking me to go away.”

  “What do you think would happen if you were to go to Mexico with Martin?” I ask, sliding into a chair across the table from her.

  “The same old same old,” her tired voice says. “They’ve messed up the rooms and they’re booked solid. Not a room anywhere. Looks like we’ll have to share a room, but I’ll sleep on the floor. Or in the chair. Or they’ll try the bathtub trick sometimes.”

  I scratch my head. (Not where he’s kissed it.) How well do I know Ashton? Should I bring this scenario up and tell him it better not happen?

  “Men make me furious,” she says. “You can’t trust a one of them. Your father, he was the exception.”

  I smile, remembering Dad, and wonder what he thinks of mother’s dating antics.

  “By the way, Allison,” my mother starts, “how’s the baseball player doing? Are you two dating?”

  I jump up and grab a couple of mugs and the sugar.

  “He’s fine.”

  I’m skipping the dating part of the question because if I say we’re dating, then omit the All-star game details, it would be lying by omission.

  I think I’ll talk about Grandma. Not tattle, though.

  Grandma and Paul’s trip has a different spin on it because the whole Sunday school class is going. It’s not like they’re traveling alone.

  “Speaking of trips, Grandma Fola will be on vacation the same week I’m going on the mission trip.”

  “That’s nice. Where is she going?”

  “Her Sunday school class is going to Nova Scotia.”

  I set my mother’s mug in front of her.

  “Paul is going to be lonesome that week,” she says.

  Here goes.

  “Paul is going too. He’s part of the Sunday school class, remember?”

  My mother doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell whether she approves or not.

  “Mother Doll will be fine,” she finally says. “She’s going with a group of church people. Like you and your mission trip. Groups are safe. People look out for each other. It’s when they try to sneak you off alone, like Martin tried, that the situation can get out of control.”

  Is that what Ashton is doing? Trying to sneak me off? Mother makes it sound so wrong.

  The whistle blows indicating the water is ready. I pour the steaming liquid into her cup. She bobs the tea bag up and down. One thing becomes perfectly clear. It is not the time to tell her about my ‘date’ with Ashton. Because then I would be just like the tea bag.

  In hot water.

  CHAPTER 13

  How can I be in a store called Mega-Party and still be tense? Because I’m shopping for my mother’s festive fiftieth gathering with Velvet, trying to figure out how to tell her about my overnight date with a guy she’s not thrilled about.

  Our buggy is almost full. We’ve decided to go with a luau theme. Velvet said the barbecue will be fine. I’ve received over fifty confirmations so far.

  But one of them was from Martin.

  Minus one.

  But Ashton is coming, so I can add the minus one back.

  Velvet is acting peachy, like there’s nothing wrong. I guess as long as Ashton’s not around, or brought up, things between her and me will stay cozy.

  At least on her insides. Not on mine.

  After we pay and load up her trunk she suggests we stop by the coffee shop for an iced coffee.

  I can tell this is Trent’s twenty-four shift on. I hope she realizes the sacrifices I’m making for the Trelvet relationship. I have to be available when she’s available, which is when Trent isn’t available.

  After ordering our caramel-coffee delights we find a table in the shade under an umbrella outside because there are no available seats inside. Which is really okay with me. Just in the short time we stood in line, their choice of music had rubbed my nerves raw.

  Or maybe the nerve thing had more to do with my upcoming conversation with Velvet, but I’d rather blame it on the twangy guitar music coming from the speakers.

  Velvet’s chocolate brown shorts and top flatter her and I notice the guys staring her way. With her perfect hair and soft pink lipstick she’s definitely pretty. Her smile can make anyone feel better, and I’m glad she’s my best friend. I have to remember I can always count on her.

  “I found out some interesting news,” I say.

  “Oh, really? What?”

  We need to drink our drinks quickly because they aren’t going to stay rich and creamy for very long out here in the hot sun. So I take a quick sip and reveal my good news.

  “Ashton isn’t dating Braedyn.”

  There it’s said. It’s out there, no longer between us.

  “Oh, really? Who says?”

  My heart flutters a little. I wasn’t expecting her to doubt me.

  “Ashton. I asked him.”

  Her eyes look sad. Like she’s feeling sorry for me. I don’t want her feeling sorry for me.

  “Allison. Of course he’s going to tell you he’s not dating her.”

  Her tone implies, “silly girl”.

  “Why wouldn’t he?” I ask. “We all see each other twice a week now. And we’re going to be spending a whole week together real soon.”

  She tilts her head and shrugs her shoulders. “Okay. You have a point. I mean, it’s not like he could or would be keeping it a secret. Braedyn would never go for that, would she?”

  Our laughter breaks the tension.

  “Somehow I can’t see Braedyn keeping quiet about dating the celebrity baseball pitcher,” I say.

  “You’re probably right. But she hasn’t been shy about telling everyone he’s been over at her house quite a bit.”

  Did Velvet intend to stab me in the gut with her words? I know he’s been to her house. He told me he’d been there. But why?

  It shouldn’t matter. Ashton told me he wasn’t dating her, and that should be good enough. Trust is a huge part of every relationship.

  Way to go, Allison. Now you’ve escalated your non-dating scenario to a relationship.

  And yes, Ashton and I are not dating until we actually go on a date. Which is still over two weeks away, unless he asks me out for something else before then.

  “I’m sure he has good reasons for being at her house. He’s been at my house and has acted like the perfect gentleman.”

  I shut my eyes briefly thinking of that kiss. I’m sure perfect gentlemen bestow rock-my-world-kisses on females all the time. My toes, although they’re subject to the blazing hot sun at this moment, still warm to the memory.

  “Well, as lo
ng as everyone remains friends. I don’t want some guy coming along and disrupting our lives, you know?”

  Wait a minute, Velvet. Trelvet is totally disrupting my life and I’m handling it. Sort of.

  “Ashton did ask me out.”

  “And I guess you’re going,” she says.

  “Yeah. Although, it’s a different kind of date,” I say.

  “Really? How’s that?”

  “He asked me to the All-Star game.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “Pretty different, huh?” I say.

  “I didn’t know the All-Star game was in Atlanta this year,” she says.

  Here it comes. I have to be brave. “It’s not.”

  “And where would it be?”

  “Pittsburgh.”

  “Allison?”

  The heat is affecting my vision. Between Velvet’s tan, her dark brown outfit and her tan colored drink, she’s starting to look like chocolate blob.

  Or maybe my brain is trying to find something amusing in this situation.

  “Velvet?”

  “Allison. Are you going away overnight with him?”

  Something suddenly occurs to me. If I slink and hedge around this whole date, I’m the one who’s making it look cheap, sleazy, whatever.

  And that’s not how I feel about it at all. My mother may think Ashton is trying to sneak me off, but I think he’s a gentleman, and will arrange separate rooms. He’s fun to be with, and what a blast it will be to go to an All-Star game.

  “Yes. We’re flying to Pittsburg on the morning of the game and flying back the next morning. He’s got two rooms, two plane tickets and two game tickets. I’m going.”

  She makes a loud slurp as she finishes her coffee.

  “I have to admit, the All-Star game would be a fabulous experience,” she says.

  “It’s going to be.”

  “Trent isn’t going to know which way to go with this info. He’ll be so jealous that you’re going and yet his big-brother instinct will kick in full force. Maybe Ashton could get another ticket for Trent. He’ll be your chaperone.”

  She laughs.

  “Not hardly,” I say.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you and Ashton come over to Trent’s Friday night for a cook-out? Oops, make it Saturday. Trent’s working Friday.”

  A cook-out. Now I will have to ask him out. Which means I’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning because I still don’t have his number.

  “Okay. I’ll ask him. I mean, I can’t make any promises. Oh, and don’t say anything to Trent about the game. I want to tell him at the right time.”

  “You got it. Maybe spending the evening with you and Ashton will make things a little clearer.”

  I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

  “You’re not going to be giving him the third degree, are you? I mean he’s just a guy. Like Trent. Don’t be asking him all sorts of stuff.”

  “He’s a guy I don’t know who is interested in my best friend. I only want what’s best for you. I have to make sure he’s the best.”

  “We’re not getting married or anything.”

  “Do you really like him, Allison?”

  I shut my eyes, remembering his face, his touch, his kiss. A warm haze fills my mind. My heart races.

  “I really like him, Velvet.”

  “It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I answer, feeling rather warm and wondering if it’s the thought of Ashton or the heat. Even though we’re under an umbrella my skin still has a burning sensation. My frappaccino has turned into brown water and it’s pretty much undrinkable.

  “I’ll work on Trent, then.”

  Her words surprise me, then thrill me. She’s back. We’re back.

  I stand, she follows suit and we toss our cups into the trash can.

  “He’s helping me teach class tomorrow,” I add, feeling really confident on so many levels now.

  Velvet smiles. “Really? That’s cool.”

  “It is. He offered and we went over the lesson Friday at lunch. He’s really a nice guy, Velvet. You’ll see.”

  She unlocks the doors with her remote.

  “If you think he’s nice, Allison, I’m sure he is. I just want to protect you.”

  “I’ve guarded my heart for the last twenty-nine years. I don’t intend to stop now.”

  We slip into her car and she turns the air on full blast. The cloth seats are warm, not burning hot like the Jag’s leather seats. Like Ashton’s kisses.

  I flip a vent toward me, the air cooling my face by the second, and wonder if I can really and truly guard my heart against Ashton Boyd.

  A little voice inside of me tells me it’s probably too late.

  I can’t really say for sure if Ashton stood me up for Sunday school or not. I have a bad feeling inside. I know something isn’t right. Ashton would have shown up if he could have. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.

  I can’t call him because I don’t have his number. He hasn’t offered it and I haven’t asked for it.

  Call me old-fashioned. Or maybe I don’t want to appear desperate.

  Either way I have no idea why he missed church.

  Velvet didn’t say anything, verbally. But I could tell she wanted to.

  Velvet and Trent went shopping after lunch at Chi-Chi’s. I bet Trent has never shopped so much in his life. My burrito feels like a lead ball in my stomach. That same lead ball clenches when I see the classic Jag parked along the curb in front of my house.

  I park my car in the driveway, get out and look around. No Ashton.

  Puzzled, I walk up the stairs to the porch. It’s then I see him, sitting on the swing, looking more like a ghost of the Ashton I’ve gotten to know, than Ashton.

  He looks bad.

  I close my eyes while all sorts of scenarios run through my mind. Is he a binge drinker who’s gone off the wagon? Could he have been out all night, club hopping just now realizing he’s missed church? My mind has a tendency to wander to extremes. I can only hope these scenarios aren’t true.

  But this confirms how much I truly don’t know about him. I mean, he’s only been coming to church for four weeks and he’s now missed two.

  So, according to the Ashton I know, missing church is not out of character. Looking like a nine instead of an eleven is.

  I set my purse and Bible by the front door and walk over to him.

  He stands, opening his arms.

  Confused, I oblige, fitting nicely against him as his arms encase me.

  I’ll be darned if he doesn’t still smell good.

  “Allison,” he says, his lips so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath. “Allison, my grandmother died.”

  His voice is shaky, so it takes me a couple of seconds to process what he’s said.

  His grandmother died?

  He holds me even closer, tighter than he had been. Like the closeness will bring his grandmother back.

  What do I say? What do I do? There’s no need for a celebrity handbook here. There’s a need for God.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, still in his arms. If he never let me go it would be okay with me. But I’d rather be in his arms for more joyous reasons.

  He unwinds his arms from me and motions me to the swing. I sit. Then he sits and he’s really close to me.

  Hedges have grown up around the porch, so it’s like we’re sitting in a little room. Living room windows to our left, hedges behind and to the right. I want to chop them down, but mother likes them. The lawn guy keeps them from looking unruly.

  It’s warm today, yet Ashton is in a pair of jeans and those cowboy boots. I know he has to be hot. But he’s probably not even thinking about the temperature outside.

  “What happened?” I ask. “I thought she was doing better?”

  He takes my hand. I’ve figured out Ashton connects on a physical level. (Okay, no straying thoughts here.) I mean when we’re together he’s holding my elbow, my wrist, his arm is drape
d across mine, he likes to hug. Now he’s holding my hand.

  And we’re not even a couple.

  Yet.

  “She wasn’t feeling well Friday night, but she insisted she didn’t need to go to the hospital. She wouldn’t even let us call the doctor.”

  He pauses here. I look at him. Really look. His eyes are dark, full of pain, bewilderment. His whole demeanor has changed.

  “Last night,” he continues, “When Grandfather went to bed, she was … you know. Gone.”

  He takes the back of his hand and wipes it across his eyes.

  “Man, this is tough.” He manages to choke out the words. “I didn’t know I could hurt this bad, Allison. I didn’t know.”

  My eyes start to tear.

  “I’ve had some stuff happen,” he says, “and I thought I’d been hurt before, but that was nothing. Nothing like this.”

  Again, the back of his hand goes to his eyes.

  I want to say the right words. No, what I really want is to make him stop hurting. But I know I can’t. Only time can do that, and I’m not the time-keeper.

  God is.

  “I wish I could make this go away for you,” I manage to say. “I wish I could bring her back. The only thing I can do is tell you God is in control and for whatever reason, he’s chosen to take your grandmother home to Him. We don’t understand, but we have to look ahead. God means good for us. Not harm. But He doesn’t promise there won’t be sorrow along the way.”

  Ashton leans back against the swing. “I haven’t gone to church in years. Until I came to your class. But I wanted to be there. Then I wanted to continue going. I’m excited about the mission trip. Why did God do this now? I felt like I was beginning to get close to Him, then He does this. Why, Allison?”

  When I’m at a total loss for words or actions, I pray.

  God, you’ve got to help me here. Help me show Ashton You.

  “Why do bad things happen to good people, Ashton? Why did God take your grandmother just when you were feeling close to Him? These are things we don’t understand from our human standpoint. But remember the bottom line. God is good.”

  He squeezes my hand. “I want to believe. I really do. But right now, more than anything I want my grandmother back at home with my grandfather, sitting in their favorite chairs in the living room. I want to see her smile when I walk in the door. Man, I’m gonna miss that smile.”