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He was pretty good Lisa mused as she rolled yellow paint over the walls of her room. And even with the caution lights blinking fast and furious in her heart, she had to admit that he was nice to have around. The rooms they worked in were directly opposite each other, and with the doors wide open their get-to-know-each-other conversation flowed as easily as the paint.
“Tell me about yourself,” Dave said.
“I can’t tell you how much I hate that question.” Lisa pulled masking tape from the edges of a window and frowned. As careful as she’d been, there were still a few spots where the yellow paint stained the white of the old fashioned window casing. Drat!
“Why’s that?”
“It’s just so open-ended. You say too much, and people think you’re blathering. Say too little, and people think you’ve got something to hide.” She concentrated on the wall around the closet door, doing her best not to make the same mess she’d made around the window. Dave’s chuckle carried clearly from the other room.
“OK, direct questions then. Just remember that you asked for it when it begins to feel like an inquisition. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Birthday?”
“One a year.”
“Lisa...”
She giggled. “October twelfth. You?”
“I’m an old man compared to you. I’ll be twenty-four first of next month.”
“Oh, wow,” Lisa said. “What’s your favorite color tennis ball?”
“Excuse me?”
He sounded puzzled, and Lisa grinned. “You know...for the legs of your walker.”
“Very funny. You have siblings?”
“It’s just me and Mom,” she said.
“And you guys came to Harrison after your Dad died.” It was a statement, not a question. He continued before she could reply. “School?”
“I’m almost done with my degree. Dad got sick, and I came home to help Mom manage, then we moved here. I’m still figuring out what comes next.” She stooped to roll up more paint on the roller. This was where she put a stop to Dave’s questions. He was inching too close to family details she had no intention of sharing. “And there you have it. End of story.”
“Oh, I think there’s much more to the story of Lisa Garcia than that.”
Lisa whirled around, the paint roller held in front of her like a weapon. Yellow paint spattered the newspaper at her feet in a wide arc. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Dave leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I finished and figured I’d help in here.”
Lisa looked from him to the half painted room she stood in. “You finished the whole room?”
“Yes.”
She studied him up and down, then compared her clothes to his. She was a yellow freckled mess. She didn’t see a smidge of blue on him. She twirled her finger in a circle. He laughed out loud but did a three-sixty in the doorway. Other than a few...very few...traces of the day’s grime, he was spotless.
His blue eyes met hers, and he shrugged. “I’m neat by nature. Too neat sometimes. Just fair warning should my compulsions annoy you down the road.” He stepped into the room and surveyed her progress. “This is nice. I like this color it’s...peaceful.” He tisked, pulled a rag from his back pocket, crossed to the window, and began wiping at the yellow smudges on the frame.
“I was going to do that.”
“But if I do it while you finish the walls, we’ll be done that much sooner.”
Unable to argue with his logic, Lisa returned to her chore. “So, tell me about Dave Sisko. What makes a person a neatnik?”
“An institutional upbringing,” he said without hesitation.
The roller in Lisa’s hand paused mid-stroke. “I had dinner with Jemma Hudson the other night. And...we weren’t gossiping, just indulging in some girl talk—”
“There’s a difference?”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “Funny. Anyway, she mentioned that you grew up in an orphanage. That made you compulsive?”
“Mostly.” There was a pause. She resisted the urge to turn and watch him consider his answer. “I think it’s hard for people to understand. In that environment, you have less supervision than I imagine you would in a house with a couple of parents. Some people think that gives you more freedom, but the opposite is true. Everything is very regimented. You get up, go to bed, and eat at the same times each day, you bathe when it’s your turn, you keep your things put away or they become someone else’s. For me, being neat and organized was the only control I had over my life. Lifetime habits are hard to break, but I’m working on it, right now in fact.”
“How’s that?”
“Hanging out with you,” he said with a grin. “Your lack of constraint is good for me.”
“Spontaneity is my middle name.” She gave a light patch a final swipe. “All done.”
Dave came to stand beside her. “Looks great,” he said. “Hold still a second.” He leaned in and used the corner of the towel on her face.
He was so close, his eyes so intense, Lisa found it hard to breathe. She took a step back and batted at his hand.
“You’ve got paint—”
“Everywhere,” Lisa finished. She took another step away and surveyed the room. “But it was worth it.”
Dave nodded. “We make a good team.”
Lisa shook away the warmth of his words. “Well, this part of the team is worn out.” She motioned to the door. “Cold tea in the kitchen, then you have to go.”
“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll join you after I pick up all this paper.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
He shooed her toward the door. “You’ll sleep better in a neat room.”
She paused in the doorway and watched him bundle up the paper. “This really bugs you, doesn’t it?”
Dave ducked his head. “It’s making me a little crazy.”
***
DAVE ENTERED THE KITCHEN a few minutes later. Lisa had her back to him while she stood on her tiptoes and reached into a tall cupboard for the glasses. The bottom of her shirt separated from the waistband of her jeans, revealing the lines of a trim, and momentarily bare, waist.
His mouth turned to cotton, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to regain his sanity. A deep breath settled him, and he rustled the paper just to make some noise and keep from startling her. “Trash bag?” he asked when she turned his way.
“Oh sure.” Lisa set the glasses on the counter, opened the cabinet under the sink, and bent to get a fresh bag.
The sight of the soft denim covering those curves was more disquieting than... Dave averted his eyes.
“Here you go.” Lisa shook the bag open and held it out so that he could stuff the paper inside.
He couldn’t make his feet move.
“Dave?”
Get a grip, Sisko. Dave shook himself free from whatever emotion held him captive and stepped forward. “Sorry, the day must be catching up with me.”
“As much as I appreciate the help, you probably should have gone straight home.” She picked up the glasses and nodded to the bar surrounding the small kitchen island. “Have a seat, drink your tea, and hit the road.”
Dave pulled out one of the barstools for Lisa and waited until she was settled before seating himself. His hand brushed her shoulder in the process, and he marveled that she seemed oblivious to the electricity that sparked between them. He looked around the room, desperate to find a mundane topic for conversation. Otherwise it was just a matter of time before he fell at her feet and expressed his undying love.
Love?
He gulped his tea, choked, and spent the next thirty seconds trying to clear his windpipe. The fit of coughing expelled the thought and the liquid. It was the first time he’d ever been grateful for a near death experience. Lisa reached to pat his back and he stopped her with an upraised hand. The additional contact might finish the job the mis-swallowed tea started. “I’m good.”
Back under control, he sat up with a deep breath, determined to focus on something other than Lisa. “I meant to tell you earlier, this is a great room.”
He watched Lisa’s gaze sweep the kitchen. “They did a good job on it.”
“They?”
“This was sort of a work in progress when Mom bought it. The original owners had it on the market for a while but it didn’t sell. They decided to do some upgrades to help that along and just as they finished both kitchens, they got a contract on the property. The prospective buyers asked them to hold off on any additional changes. They agreed, and two months later, the financing fell through. Mom was able to snap it up for a song. A total God thing.”
Dave smiled. “I thought you hated it here.”
Lisa lifted a shoulder. “Just because it isn’t good for me doesn’t make it bad for Mom. It’s the first home she’s ever owned, and I’ve never seen her so happy. The community has just smothered her in kindness, and Praise Tabernacle...” Her gaze turned distant. “It feels a lot like home to both of us.”
Her words warmed Dave. He’d hoped she was a believer. “I knew there was something I liked about you. Church kid, huh?”
“Born and bred.”
Dave leaned on the bar. Even after a day of hard labor, there was a slight scent of honeysuckles that clung to her hair, or maybe it was her clothes. It played havoc with his concentration, and he struggled to remember where the conversation had been headed. Oh yeah, Praise Tabernacle. “You like baseball?”
She waffled her hand back and forth. “I can take it or leave it. Why?”
“Because my kids and Jemma’s kids have a game scheduled tomorrow afternoon after church. If you don’t have anything to do, you could come out to the park and watch. Cheering for the Abundant Life Warriors is optional.”
She snorted. “If I come, I’ll be pulling for the Praise Tabernacle team.”
“Good enough.” Dave took a final drink, and the ice rattled in his glass when he set it down.
“You want a refill?” Lisa asked.
“No. I need to get home and put the finishing touches on tomorrow’s sermon for the youth group.”
And in that instant, just like last week, Lisa’s expression closed as if she’d slammed the shutters. “Oh...right...well.” She stood and led the way to the front door. “You better get going then.”
The change in her mood was so abrupt, Dave had no choice but to follow her to the door. He stepped onto the porch and managed to snag her hand. “I had a good time.”
Lisa tugged her hand free and crossed her arms. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you...around.” She took a step away from him and closed the door.
Dave stood there for several seconds. What just happened? He replayed the last few seconds of their conversation, looking for something to account for her sudden frostiness. He came up empty.
He walked to his truck, climbed inside, rested his head on the steering wheel, and did what he always did when life confused him. Father, I don’t get it. We were getting along so well. I even...well, for a while there, the OCD backed off. Can You help me figure this out? I like this girl. He remembered the scene in the kitchen and owned up to reality. I might like her too much for my own good, considering I just met her a week ago. He took a couple of deep breaths. You know I only want Your will for my life. I’ve accepted that that means the ministry, and I know You have the perfect helper for me. Dave stared back at the house as the lights in the living room blinked off. The perfect wife.
Wife?
The word startled him out of the prayer. Get real, Sisko. He started the car. He had things to do, and part of that meant arranging a meeting with Jemma Hudson. Maybe she could give him some insight into Lisa.
***
LISA STOOD IN THE LIVING room, her head resting against the door long after Dave pulled away from her house. I need to get home and put the finishing touches on tomorrow’s sermon. The words had hit her like a bucket of ice water in the face. “Thanks for the reminder, Father.”
She walked back to her bedroom, all enthusiasm for the evening’s work gone. Dave was a good-looking, funny guy. She thought about the way he’d picked up the living room and his insistence on cleaning up before he’d called it a night. She added adorably quirky to the list of his good qualities. He was available, and most importantly, he was a Christian.
She was a healthy, single, Christian young woman who wanted a Christian man in her life more than just about anything. Lisa sat on her bed, flopped back on the mattress, and covered her eyes with her arms. Unfortunately, Dave was also the one thing he couldn’t be, the one thing she refused to make room for in her life. Dave Sisko was a preacher, and she would never, ever, be a part of that lifestyle again.