~ ~ ~

 

THE DAY AFTER Christmas the middle school youth group from our old church in Cavendish flew to Mexico City to spend their week with us. I didn’t usually go to the airport when the bus picked up kids, but Greg’s little sister, Charlotte, was going to be there, so I went to the airport with Laci and Aaron. We pretty much knew most of the kids, but none of them like we knew Charlotte. Although she seemed pretty happy to see us, I don’t think she was as happy as I was.

When I hugged her I felt like I was touching Cavendish.

 

 

 

The youth group had just finished showing Laci all the stuff they’d prepared when I peeked into the living room and looked for Charlotte. She was sitting next to her best friend, Lydia, giggling.

“Pssst . . .” I caught her eye and motioned for her to follow me into my office. I sat down in my chair and pulled up another one next to me.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” I said.

“Me too.”

“Looks like you got some good stuff to do with the kids . . .”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I can’t wait to meet them. It’s going to be fun.”

“It’s going to be hard, too,” I said. “Especially Wednesday.”

That was the day they’d go to the landfill.

“I know,” she said.

No you don’t. You don’t have a clue. I decided she’d find out soon enough.

“I want to show you something,” I told her.

I double-clicked the Gabby icon on the screen. The first footage was from about eight weeks. It wasn’t too clear that she was a baby, but you could definitely see her little heart beating in the middle of the screen. I glanced at Charlotte and she seemed impressed.

“That’s really cool . . .”

“Just wait,” I said. “It gets better.”

I pointed out every significant part of each segment in the video, pausing it, rewinding it and playing it again. We were near the end, at the part where Gabby was sucking her thumb, when Laci walked in.

“I can’t believe she’s sucking her thumb!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I didn’t know they did that.”

“Sometimes babies are even born with a little blister on their lip because they suck their thumb so much,” Laci told her. Then Laci looked at me. “I thought kids weren’t allowed in your office.”

“I’ve been known to make the occasional exception,” I assured Charlotte, smiling at her.

“I’m not a kid,” she protested. “I’m almost thirteen!”

“Right, sorry!” Laci said, turning to leave. “Oh, and by the way . . . Charlotte?”

“Hmmm?”

I was pleased that her eyes were reluctant to leave the image of Gabby on the screen.

“I made arrangements with your youth leader for you to stay here for dinner Wednesday night instead of going to the orphanage . . . if you want to.”

I paused the video so that Charlotte could look away from the screen and smile at Laci.

“Okay, thanks!” she said. Laci smiled back at her and left, closing the door behind her. Charlotte looked back at me and grinned.

I know my eyes got wide when I looked at her.

“Wow!” I said.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said again. “You just . . . I don’t know . . . you just . . .”

“Look like Greg when I smile?” she suggested.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I mean . . . you really, really looked like Greg just then.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I guess I never noticed it before. Wow.”

“Does it bother you?” she asked rather quietly.

“No,” I assured her, waving my hands at the pictures on my walls. “Look around . . . does it look like I’m trying to forget about Greg?”

“I guess not,” she admitted, leaving her chair to look at the picture of us in front of the snowman. “I remember that day . . .”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I remember that Greg got mad at me because I wanted the snowman somewhere different and you made him move it.”

“I was always a lot nicer to you than he was,” I said and she laughed. I pointed at the picture of us on the beach in Florida. “Remember that?”

“Not really,” she said. “I mean, I know you went to Grandma’s with us one summer because I’ve seen pictures, but I really don’t remember it.”

That kind of bothered me since it had been such a great time for me.

“Actually, I went with you twice . . .” I told her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. The last two summers . . .”

“Oh.”

We looked at the beach picture for another moment.

“Do you want to see the rest of Gabby’s video?” I finally asked.

“Can we see her sucking her thumb again?” Charlotte asked.

“Sure,” I said as we sat back down. “It’s one of my favorite parts.”

 

 

 

On Wednesday evening I dropped Dorito off at the orphanage after physical therapy and then rushed home. He started crying when he realized I wasn’t going to stay for dinner and Inez had to pry him off of my legs. When I got to the house, the rest of the youth group was gone and Charlotte was there, helping Laci dish up take-out food.

“Hi!” I said, hugging them both. Charlotte didn’t look too happy. I knew she’d been at the landfill all day so I didn’t ask her what was wrong.

She was pretty quiet during dinner too, but after we’d eaten she told us, “I got you something for Christmas.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s from me and my mom . . . and a few other people too.” She was brightening up a bit.

Charlotte went to her suitcase in the living room and pulled a big package from it. The wrapping paper was wrinkled and ripped in a few spots, but she handed it to us without an apology. I sat in the middle of the couch with Laci and Charlotte on either side.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” I said, tearing off what was left of the wrapping paper. It was a white box, and in that was an album.

I put the box and the paper on the floor and opened the album to the first page. Laci leaned in to see and so did Charlotte. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, glancing into my face to see my reaction.

There were two baby pictures . . . one of me and one of Laci, side by side. I’d seen mine often, Laci’s a few times.

I turned the pages to find pictures of us as infants and then as toddlers . . . first day of preschool pictures . . . an Easter egg hunt on the church lawn.

“Oh!” Laci said, pointing to herself at three. “I remember that dress! I loved that dress!”

“Look at that,” I said. There was a photo of our preschool class, posing in front of the school building. Laci and I searched for ourselves.

“There you are,” I said, finding her easily. “Before you chopped your hair all off . . .”

“There’s Tanner . . .” Laci said. “Where are you?”

“He’s right here,” Charlotte said, pointing to the back row. The preschool teacher had her arm firmly on my shoulder as if she were keeping me from fleeing.

“Where’d you get all these, Charlotte?” I asked, turning the page.

“Everybody . . .” she said. “When your mom started asking around for pictures for your office my mom and I got the idea to do this album. We just told everybody that while they were at it to give us some too. A lot of these are scans . . .”

They must have talked to Natalie and Ashlyn’s parents too because there were pictures of them when they were little. There was a picture of Natalie and Laci at the bowling alley, celebrating somebody’s birthday and one of Ashlyn and Laci wearing sunglasses and posing for the camera. There were pictures of my dad, handing Mike a medal for winning the pinewood derby in Cub Scouts, of Tanner standing next to me and holding up a fish, and of Natalie, Ashlyn and Laci all dressed up to go to a dance.

Not only had she included pictures of the Christmas pageant we’d put on in the fourth grade, but of the program that had been distributed at church too. Next to a picture of a grinning Mike (with both of his front teeth gone), she’d put a gum wrapper.

“Oh!” Laci said. “He always chewed that kind . . . remember?”

I nodded.

“This is unbelievable,” I told Charlotte. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“A lot of people helped.”

She’d done everything chronologically. There were pictures of Laci’s volleyball teams and track teams and team shots of me and Tanner and Mike in soccer and basketball and baseball. They ranged all the way from the time we were in pee-wee leagues until we’d been in high school. From the seventh grade on, Greg was in the team sports pictures too.

She had a copy of my Red Cross lifeguard certification next to my first paycheck stub from the pool. She’d also included a take-out menu from Hunter’s Pizza and Subs and next to that was a penny.

“Did you get that penny off Greg’s dresser?” I asked her, smiling. Charlotte nodded and smiled back and I shook my head. Every time I’d eaten there when Greg was working I’d tipped him a penny and he’d kept them all in a jar on his dresser. He said he was saving them up to buy a pack of gum.

Charlotte had even found a piece of notebook paper where Greg and their dad and I had worked out some of our AP physics problems.

We were nearing the end when Charlotte suddenly stuck her hand out and stopped me from turning the page.

“For this next part,” she said, “I had all your friends tell their favorite memory of you.”

“That was a nice idea, Charlotte,” Laci told her.

“This whole thing was a nice idea,” I said.

I turned the page and saw Natalie’s senior picture on the left hand page and two letters (one to each of us) on the right.

 

Dear Laci:

My favorite memory with you is that time when there was a meteor shower and I came over to your house and we laid out in your driveway and watched it together until about two in the morning.

I’m so glad for all of the times that we’ve shared together and I’m so excited for you and David. Can’t wait to see you both and meet Gabby. Don’t have her before your shower! I’ll be there.

Love, Natalie

 

 

Under that was her letter to me.

 

 

Dear David:

My favorite memory of you is of one Halloween when we were probably in the fourth or fifth grade. You and Tanner and Mike came trick-or-treating at my house just when I was getting ready to take Emma out. You picked up one of the pumpkins on our porch (I think you thought it was mine, but it was Emma’s) and you were looking at it when Mike accidentally bumped into you and you dropped it and it smashed all over the porch. Of course Emma was crying and howling and playing it up for all it was worth. My mom came out on the porch to help clean it up and try to calm Emma down and you kept apologizing over and over. My mom told you not to worry about it, but I could tell that you felt really, really bad . . . you actually looked like you were going to cry. That was the first time I thought that maybe you weren’t the heartless idiot I’d always pegged you for.

Love ya! Natalie

 

 

I looked at Laci.

“Is there supposed to be a compliment in there somewhere?” I asked.

“I think so,” she laughed.

Tanner’s was worse.

 

 

(Don’t read this David)

 

Dear Laci:

My favorite memory of you? Hands down . . . prom night!

Love, Tanner

 

(I told you not to read this, Dave!)

 

 

“He’s real funny,” I said. Laci put her hand over her mouth so I wouldn’t see her smile. Then we read the one he’d written to me.

 

 

Dave:

Just one? I only get to pick one? Okay then, I pick the time I was trying to teach you to drive my dad’s stick shift in the parking lot of the high school. You had a bit of trouble with the clutch . . . remember?

Anyway, this cop pulls up and taps on the window and then makes you get out of the car – he thought you had to be under the influence or something. So he makes you get out and start walking a line and touching your fingertips to your nose and everything and you were like “Really, officer . . . I’m not drunk! I’m just a bad driver!” I was laughing so hard. I think he was really disappointed that he couldn’t write you a ticket. I know I was.

Can’t wait to see you guys! Tanner

 

 

I just shook my head. I was going to kill Tanner when I saw him again.

Ashlyn’s senior picture and letters were next.

 

 

Dear Laci-

My favorite memory of us is when you and Natalie would come over to spend the night and we’d make pizzas and drink Mountain Dew. One night we watched scary movies on TV and we got so freaked out. We heard something on the porch and started screaming and my dad came out of the bedroom yelling at us to keep it down and we were like “There’s something on the porch! There’s something on the porch!”

We were pretty sure it was an ax murderer or something, but Dad flipped on the light and it was a raccoon. He told us we’d better go to sleep and not wake him up again. We didn’t wake him up again, but we were too scared to sleep all night!

Love you! Come home soon!

Ashlyn

 

 

Dear David-

I remember when we were in biology class together and Tanner and I were lab partners. We took our fetal pig heart and put it inside your pig when you weren’t looking and you thought you’d discovered some great scientific freak of nature or something. You showed it to Mr. Powell and everything and he was like “Umm, David? Does anything look a little strange to you about this second heart?” You started poking around at it for a minute and when you figured out it wasn’t attached you just looked right back at me and Tanner and glared at us. I said “Uh-oh,” but Tanner told me not to worry about it.

Then at lunch he went to go get some ketchup and he found that little heart nestled in his corn when he got back. The funniest part is that putting it in your pig wasn’t Tanner’s idea . . . it was mine!

Love, Ashlyn

 

 

“Yeah,” I said. “That stupid thing wound up in my notebook the next day.”

“That’s disgusting!” Charlotte said.

“I got even with him though,” I went on. “I put it in his locker.”

“Yuck,” Charlotte said.

“It’s not still getting passed back and forth, is it?” Laci asked. “I’m not going to find it in our bed tonight or anything, am I?”

“No,” I said. “He threw it at me in history and missed and it kinda landed on Mrs. Butler’s desk . . .”

“Oh, that’s so gross!” Charlotte said.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It was pretty gross.”

“Did you guys get in trouble?”

“No, she didn’t see it happen . . .”

“You two just left it there?” Laci asked, clearly appalled.

“Let’s get back to the album!” I said, anxious to change the subject.

The next page was Mike’s. Next to his senior picture (taken the year after we’d graduated because he was a year younger than the rest of us) were the letters he’d written.

 

 

Dear David:

My favorite memory of you is actually probably several memories strung together, but I remember you coming over to the house and playing chess with my dad. Whenever you saw an opportunity to beat him, you’d do it . . . and then you’d rub his face in it every chance you got.

Other people always treated him with kid gloves, but you never acted like he was sick or anything. You always made him feel really normal. I appreciated that, and I know he did too.

Merry Christmas!

Love, Mike

 

 

Dear Laci:

My favorite memory of you also involves my dad . . . and my mom. The week after Dad died I had training camp and I was really worried about leaving my mom alone, but she insisted that I go ahead. That whole first day of practice I was really concerned about her and couldn’t keep my mind on things at all.

When Tanner’s mom dropped me off at my house I ran inside, worried about how I would find her, and the first thing that hit me when I walked in the door was the smell of Pine-Sol. And there you were . . . in the kitchen with my mom, helping her clean the floor, and both of you were laughing and talking. I still think about that every time I smell Pine-Sol.

 

Take care of that baby! Can’t wait until spring!

Love, Mike

 

 

I was a little nervous before I turned the next page. I knew it should be a ‘Greg’ page, but I couldn’t figure out how it possibly would be.

It was though. His senior picture was there, and there were two letters . . . one to Laci and one to me.

His mom had written both of them.

 

 

Dear Laci:

I’m sure I won’t be able to pick the same memory that Greg would have, but one thing I really remember is when you came over to help him cut his hair that first time. He was really excited about that. Of course he was also really happy when you and David got together . . . he always said the two of you were meant to be. He was right! And he’d be so happy to know about Gabby too . . . maybe he already does.

 

Love,

Mrs. White

 

 

“I didn’t know you helped him cut his hair,” I said.

“There’re a lot of things you don’t know,” she grinned.

The last letter was the one Mrs. White had written to me.

 

 

Dear David:

Just like with Laci, I’m sure I won’t pick the same memory that Greg would have chosen, but I’ve been thinking back on the times when the two of you were together – which was pretty much all the time!

Greg was always pretty happy, but he seemed especially so after his dad took the two of you fishing out on that charter boat. Remember? He seemed not only unusually contented, but amused too . . . I don’t know what about. I do know, however, that he was really glad that you were able to go to Florida with us.

Not sure if that brings back any special memories for you or not, but I hope so. Can’t wait to see both of you and meet the baby!

All my love,

Mrs. White

 

 

“Does it bring back some special memory?” Laci asked when she finished reading it.

“Probably for him it would have,” I admitted. “I was barfing like a dog the whole time we were out on that boat.”

Laci laughed and I didn’t say anything else, but I knew there was another reason that Greg had been “unusually contented, but amused too”.

It was on that trip that I’d told him I knew I wanted my relationship with Laci to be more than just a friendship. Just that thought had turned me into such a nervous wreck that I’d hardly been able to enjoy my week in Florida at all. Greg was happy because he’d really wanted me and Laci to get together, plus he’d always enjoyed watching me squirm.

The rest of the pages were blank.

“These are for you to put pictures of Gabby,” Charlotte explained.

“What about you, Charlotte?” Laci asked. “How come you didn’t put down your favorite memories?”

“I just wanted it to be about you and your friends,” she said.

“You’re our friend,” I told her.

“You know what I mean,” she said, and I did.

“Well, tell us what your favorite memories are,” I said. “I wanna know what you remember.”

“Well . . .” she said, putting a finger to her mouth and looking at Laci, “I remember you babysitting me. Whenever I found out you were going to babysit I’d always get so excited. Mom would let me pick out whatever I wanted for dinner and you would make it for me and we’d get to eat it in front of the TV.”

“What’d you pick for dinner?” I asked her.

“Spaghettios,” Laci answered for her. “Always Spaghettios.”

“And Chips Ahoy cookies for dessert!” Charlotte added.

“I could actually go for some of those right now,” Laci mused.

“What about me?” I asked.

“Well,” she said. “I told you I remember when you made Greg move that snowman for me . . .”

“Uh-huh. What else?”

“I remember you playing Go-Fish with me in the basement when there was a thunderstorm outside . . .”

“What else?”

“Um . . . I remember you helping Greg and my dad take off my training wheels and I remember that one time you let me put barrettes in your hair . . .”

“Are you sure that wasn’t Greg?” I asked skeptically.

“Positive. You let me paint your fingernails too . . .”

“Okay,” I said. “Never mind. I’m sorry I asked.”

 

 

 

The next day before the bus brought the landfill kids to our house again, Charlotte stuck her head in the door of my office to say hello.

“Thanks again for that album, Charlotte,” I told her. “It’s really fantastic. Laci and I looked through the whole thing again two more times before we went to bed.”

Charlotte beamed.

“And if you see Tanner you can tell him I was deeply touched by his letters . . .”

“I see him almost every day . . . remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I almost forgot that he teaches you.”

“I’ll probably have him in high school too. I think he’s going to try to get a job there,” she said. “He’s already helping coach some of their teams . . .”

“Football?” I guessed.

She nodded. “Baseball in the spring, too.”

“Is there going to be a job opening at the high school?”

“Coach Williams is probably going to retire either this year or next.”

“Well,” I said, “I hope for Tanner’s sake that he gets the job. No offense, but I can’t imagine teaching a bunch of middle schoolers all day.”

“I hope he gets it too,” she nodded. “I want him to be our P.E. teacher in high school.”

“He’s a good teacher, huh?”

“Oh,” she said, shrugging, “he’s fine I guess, but Jordan absolutely hates having his brother for a teacher. I want Tanner to get the job just so that Jordan will be completely miserable.”

“What’s your problem with Jordan?”

“I can’t stand him . . .” she said, contempt clouding her face.

“You guys use to play together all the time when you were little.”

“Don’t remind me . . .”

“What’s so terrible about Jordan?”

“He’s disgusting and mean and I can’t stand being around him.”

Tears started welling up in her eyes.

“Sit down,” I said, motioning for her to sit on the small couch that was along the wall. She did. I wheeled my chair closer to her.

“What’s he done that’s so terrible?” I asked her, suddenly feeling very protective.

“Nothing,” she said, running a hand across her eyes.

“Well, Charlotte . . . he must have done something or you wouldn’t be so upset just talking about him . . .”

“I just don’t like him,” she said. “I don’t want to have anything to do with him . . .”

“Well then,” I said. “Just stay away from him . . .”

She looked down at the floor.

“Can’t you just stay away from him?”

“I guess so,” she said. She nodded slightly but I could tell she was far from convinced. She finally glanced up at me.

“What?” I asked her.

She bit her lip and sighed.

“What?” I asked again.

“If I tell you something,” she began, “do you promise not to ever tell anyone . . . ever?”

I nodded, but I was thinking that if Jordan had somehow done anything to hurt her that I was going to break that promise very quickly.

She sighed deeply.

“Does God ever tell you stuff?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“Like he talks to you?”

“Well,” I admitted, “He doesn’t really talk to me . . . He leads me, guides me. He talks to me through Scripture though . . . stuff like that. You know what I mean?”

She nodded.

“That’s what He usually does to me too,” she said, “but . . .”

She hesitated for a long moment before going on.

“He told me something,” she said. “It was different than just Him leading me or guiding me. It was really clear. It wasn’t a voice exactly . . . I can’t explain it really. Somehow I just knew it was God . . . does that make any sense?”

“Sure it does,” I said. “Laci’s had that happen.”

“She has?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay,” she said, looking immensely relieved. “Well, God told me . . .”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” she asked me again.

“I promise, Charlotte.”

“Except maybe Laci,” she decided. “You can tell Laci if you want to.”

“I can’t tell her anything if you don’t ever tell me . . .”

She sighed heavily and shook her head.

“What’d He tell you?”

“That Jordan . . . that Jordan and I . . .”

She didn’t say anything else, but I got it.

“Really?!” I asked, trying very, very hard not to smile.

“It’s not funny!” she said, on the verge of tears again.

“I never said it was funny,” I told her. “I think it’s sweet.”

“It’s not sweet either!” she argued. “I can’t stand Jordan!”

“You’re talking about something that’s years away, Charlotte. You might feel differently about it when you’re an adult.”

“I doubt it,” she said, wiping her eyes again.

“Charlotte, you’ve got to be faithful to what God tells you.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, shaking her head.

“I know, Charlotte, but . . .” I paused for a minute. “Can I tell you something?”

“What?”

“God told Laci that she was going to be with me.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully.

“Really,” I nodded. “And after Greg and your dad were killed I just pushed her and everyone else away. Did you know that we didn’t date the whole time we were in college until last spring?”

“I guess so.”

“How do you think Laci felt during that whole time?” I asked her.

She shrugged.

“Don’t you think she probably felt like God had made a mistake? Like she didn’t want to believe what God had told her?”

Charlotte nodded.

“She probably felt just like you do right now, but she listened to what God said . . .”

“Did you always like Laci?”

“Charlotte,” I laughed, “if you’d told me I was going to marry Laci when I was your age I would have told you that you were crazy. Absolutely crazy!”

She gave me a slight smile.

“Please don’t get so worried about it right now,” I told her. “Just try to enjoy things. One day you’re going to be looking through a scrapbook and you’ll remember how great these times were. Try to enjoy them while they’re happening.”

“Did you enjoy them when they were happening?”

“I really did,” I nodded. “That’s something I’ve always been thankful for. After Greg and your dad were killed I never found myself thinking ‘I wish I’d appreciated them more when they were alive . . . ’ or anything like that. I really did appreciate everything when it was happening. You need to do the same thing.”

“I’ll try,” she said, but she still didn’t look convinced.

 

 

 

That night I told Laci about my conversation with Charlotte . . . she was very interested.

“Wow!” she said. “I can’t believe it! That sounds just like what happened to me.”

“Not really,” I said, shaking my head. “She doesn’t like Jordan at all.”

“Well,” she said, “I didn’t like you at all either.”

“Oh, you did too,” I said, waving my hand at her dismissively.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, laughing. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”

“From you!” I said. “You said you liked me ever since preschool!”

“That’s not what I told you,” she argued. “God told me you were the one for me when I was in preschool. I never said I was happy about it.”

I looked at her with my mouth open.

“You honestly thought I liked you? As mean as you were to me all the time?”

I rolled my eyes at her.

“You liked me by the time you were Charlotte’s age.”

“No, I didn’t . . .” she said.

“Yes, you did . . . Greg told me you did.”

“Well,” she said, shaking her head. “If Greg told you that then he lied to you.”

I started thinking back.

“Did he ask you to a dance in the seventh grade?”

She nodded at me.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, he told me that he asked you and you wouldn’t go with him because you liked somebody else. That was me . . . right?”

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head again. “I never told him that.”

“Why didn’t you go with Greg then?”

“Well,” she said, “Greg and I were already pretty good friends by then and I really liked him a lot . . .”

“You liked him?”

“Of course I did,” she said.

“You mean you liked him as a friend, right?”

“Well, no,” she said. “I mean I liked him, liked him.”

“Greg? You liked Greg?”

“What was there not to like?” she asked, grinning. “He was funny and he had such a heart for God and he was so cute . . .”

“I never noticed,” I said dryly and she laughed.

“And David!” she said, excitement growing in her eyes. “He started growing his hair out just so he could send it to Locks of Love! I mean he was like a man after my own heart! How could I NOT like him?”

“I cannot believe this . . .” I said, shaking my head.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” she asked, an impish look on her face.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “You do like me now . . . right?”

“You’re okay . . .”

“Anyway,” I said. “So, why didn’t you go to the dance with him then?”

“Well,” she said, “I’d pretty much spent the past eight or nine years not happy with the idea that I was supposed to be with you and when Greg moved to town I was pretty certain that God had made a mistake and that Greg was really the one for me . . . I mean, he was so perfect . . .”

“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes again. “I got that part. Keep going . . .”

She smiled and I decided she was enjoying this way too much.

“So, when he asked me to the dance I said yes and-”

“You said YES?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded and smiled again.

“Go on . . .” I sighed.

“Well,” she said. “One day I made some remark about how I wished he wasn’t friends with you and he asked me why I let you bother me so much and . . . I don’t know. It just kind of came out. I basically wound up telling him what God had told me . . . just like Charlotte did with you this morning.”

“Then what?”

“Then Greg said we shouldn’t go to the dance together . . . he just totally backed off. I said I thought we should still go, but he didn’t think it was a good idea. He said that if God had spoken to me that I had to be obedient to that – no matter what I thought or felt and no matter what you did. He said you were God’s problem – not mine – and that God would see to it that you’d come around . . . eventually.”

We were both quiet for a moment.

“Greg was a really good friend to me for all those years,” Laci said. “He was just very encouraging and helped me have faith – especially after I did start to have feelings for you.”

“When was that?” I asked.

“It was gradual,” she said, smiling. “When we came down here on our mission trip I decided that maybe you weren’t so bad after all. And then you started helping me in math and you finally apologized to me for being so mean when we were little . . . that’s when I really started to fall for you.”

She kissed me and sat back, still smiling.

“When did you start having feelings for me?” she wanted to know.

“I’m still waiting for them.”

“Oh, come on!” she said, swatting at me. “Tell me.”

“Well,” I said, winding a strand of her hair around my finger. “It was really gradual for me too. I guess after our mission trip is when I decided to stop being mean to you because I really began to appreciate your heart and then over the next couple of years we started becoming really close friends and I cared about you a lot . . .”

“But just as a friend, right?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “But a really, really good friend . . . one of my best friends . . .”

“So,” she said. “When did you start feeling something more?”

“I guess prom night . . .”

“Seeing me with Tanner?” she grinned.

“Well, sort of,” I said.

She nodded.

“Yet another good-looking guy who stepped out of the way to make room for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He asked me to the prom and I told him it would have to be just as friends because I liked somebody else and he rolled his eyes at me and said: ‘Let me guess . . . David?’ and I nodded. He said we should go anyway . . . that maybe it would shake some sense into you if you saw what you were missing. I guess he was right, huh?”

“Well, sort of,” I said again. “But really, it started earlier that night.”

“I didn’t even see you earlier . . .”

“When I was out to dinner with Samantha,” I said.

“Oh?” Her face clouded slightly and I sensed an opportunity for payback.

“Well,” I continued. “Talk about your good-looking prom dates. You remember what Samantha looked like, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Laci said without much enthusiasm.

“Do you remember her hair? She had great hair! Remember?”

“You’re obsessed with hair, aren’t you?” Laci asked, not smiling.

“Possibly,” I grinned, tugging at the strand I’d been twirling around my finger. She swatted my hand away.

“Oh!” I said. “I get it! It’s fine for you to tell me how cute Greg was and how nice-looking Tanner is, but if I start talking about how pretty Sam is then suddenly you don’t want to have this conversation anymore – is that right?”

“Do you think she’s prettier than me?” Laci asked in a quiet voice.

Not by a long shot . . . not even close. That was the truth and that’s what I should have said, but instead, I teased her.

“Well, she probably doesn’t have a great big ol’ belly like you do . . .”

Laci burst into tears.

Hormones . . .

“Oh, stop it Laci. I’m just kidding. Stop!” I put my arms around her. “No one is prettier than you . . . no one. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world and you know that. You know what the most beautiful part of you is?”

“What?” she managed to sniff.

“Your big ol’ belly,” I said, patting it with one hand. “I wouldn’t change anything about you at all, but especially not that.”

I might as well have been saying blah, blah, blah because she kept on crying.

Two and a half more months . . .

“Laci . . . listen,” I said, shaking her shoulder. “You wanna know how pretty I thought you were back then?”

“How?” she sniffed.

“Remember when we danced together at the Valentine’s dance when we were freshmen?”

She nodded.

“Do you know why I danced with you?”

“Because you promised Greg that you’d dance with the next girl who asked you and you were trying to make Sam jealous.”

She was making this impossible.

“Okay,” I admitted, “but I was really glad that you’re the one who asked me. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because,” I said, tipping her chin up and turning her face toward me. “You were the prettiest girl there . . . you were beautiful. You still are.”

She managed a smile and wiped a tear away.

“Now,” I said, “do you want to hear the rest of the story? Do you want to know why I fell in love with you?”

She nodded.

“You have to stop crying,” I said.

“I have stopped,” she sniffled again.

“I took her out to eat . . .”

“Where’d you take her?”

“McDonald’s . . .”

Laci smiled again.

“We went to Chez Condrez,” I said. “We were eating escargot and she pulled up all of her hair onto one side of her head into a ponytail . . . you know – like to keep it out of the way?”

Laci nodded.

“And I just looked at her hair and all of a sudden I wondered how many inches long it was and how some little kid would look wearing a wig made out of her hair . . .”

“That made you start having feelings for me?” she asked skeptically. She didn’t look too impressed.

“Don’t you see, Laci? No one will ever know how Sam’s hair would look on a wig because Sam would never do that! I mean . . . I don’t know, she might, but I doubt it. That’s something you would do!”

“Sooo,” she said, slowly, “you like me because I send my hair to Locks of Love all the time?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s because you’re the type of person who would do that and she wasn’t. It’s like Greg told me one time . . . Sam didn’t have the same heart as me. That’s when I started to realize that he was right, and once I realized that, I knew who did have the same heart as me.”

“You knew it was me?” she asked, finally smiling.

“Well, that’s when I started realizing that Greg had been right . . . that you were the one for me.”

The smile dropped off her face again.

“Greg told you that?”

I nodded.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Well, that Sam wasn’t the one for me and that you liked me and–”

“He TOLD you that I liked you?!”

I had a feeling those hormones were about to kick in again.

I nodded, very slightly.

“He promised me he would never tell you that,” Laci said almost in a whisper.

“Well,” I said. “Then it looks like he lied to both of us.”

We sat quietly for a moment and then she looked at me.

“When did he tell you that I liked you?” she asked.

“Christmas . . .”

“You knew at CHRISTMAS?” she yelled. “You still kept chasing after Sam and you took her to the prom and everything and you knew that I liked you the WHOLE TIME?!”

“I was an idiot,” I said. “I think that’s why Greg finally told me – I was being such an idiot and he probably couldn’t stand it anymore. It just took me awhile to realize that he was right.”

She looked a little happier and I made a mental note to call myself an idiot more often.

“I’m sorry you had to wait for me for so long,” I said, not just talking about high school.

“Whatever it took for us to get to where we are . . .” she said after a moment, “I’m really glad for it.”

“And I’m really glad that you listened to God.”

“It was worth every minute that I waited.”

“You and this baby are everything to me . . .” I told her quietly. “Everything.”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.”

 

 

 

We went to the airport when it was time for the Cavendish mission group to go home. I gave Charlotte a big hug before she went through security.

“I want to talk to you for a second about Jordan,” I said. I saw anger flash in her eyes just at the sound of his name.

“Charlotte . . . do you know what Greg would say to you if he were here right now?”

She shook her head.

“He’d tell you that you have to be obedient to God. If God told you that Jordan’s the one for you, then he is. God will make that happen.”

“But I don’t even like him . . .” she said, shaking her head.

“You will,” I said. “One day you will.”

“Even if I do, he won’t ever like me. He hates me!”

“Jordan is God’s problem, not yours. You need to have faith and trust God. Jordan will come around one day. Just be patient.”

She looked at me doubtfully.

“Trust me, Charlotte,” I said. “One day Jordan will thank God for you every day and he’ll be so glad that you obeyed what God told you to do.”

“Thanks, Davey,” she said, hugging me again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said. “I wish I was there to remind you every day . . . don’t forget what I said, okay? He’ll come around.”

“I won’t forget,” she said.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“I’ll see you in six weeks,” I said.

“I can’t wait!” she answered. And then she was gone.