“Kiara, you are so cool.”
Kiara couldn’t hold back an affectionate laugh at Amy’s pronouncement. “Takes one to know one, Miss Thing.”
Amy dipped a spoon into the potato salad Kiara was creating and scooped out a sample, devouring it with a sigh. “I'm serious. You even make cooking seem chic. Where did you get your top? I love it.”
Kiara burst out laughing again at Amy’s CD-skip style conversation. “Amy, the next time I'm feeling down in the dregs, I'm calling you, and you're ordered to say exactly those words to me over and over again.” With a downward glance, Kiara paid regard to the sleeveless pink microfiber athletic shirt she wore. “I got this at a running shop in Sterling Heights. I'll take you there some time.”
“Deal. Seriously, I'd so love to go shopping with you.”
The fourth day of the mission trip was drawing to a close. They were past the midway point and the results were remarkable. Backbreaking, but remarkable. Enough camaraderie and trust had been established, enough observations made, for Kiara to comfortably remark, “You know, Tyler sure is enchanted by you. Bonus? He's such a great guy.”
Amy shrugged. “He's really nice. I like how he treats me.”
“You should. Believe me when I say that's the whole ballgame,” Wanting to pass along as much wisdom as possible to this younger version of herself, Kiara didn’t shy away from the role of mentor.
“I feel bad around him though.”
“Why's that?”
“Because I know he likes me, and honest, I like him too. I like him just fine. But…” She paused and watched Kiara dice a bit more onion and celery into the mix. “Need more milk?”
“Yeah. Just a little. The secret is making it creamy, and using enough eggs.”
Amy poured, and then Kiara mixed.
“You were saying?”
Amy leaned on her elbows, watching the motion of the spoon in the bowl instead of meeting Kiara’s eyes. Kiara didn't know much about young adults, but the body language spoke loud and clear. Amy wanted to confess but wasn't sure what to admit, so she diverted parts of herself—like a gaze that would reveal too much.
“It's just that there's this other guy. Mark Samuels. He's kind of, like, spectacular, Kiara.” She grinned. “The type of guy I bet you'd have gone for big time back in high school. He's so handsome, and funny, and he's a total jock—captain of the basketball team. He's awesome. Everybody wants to be around him, and, well, he likes me. I even think he's going to ask me to Homecoming.”
Dreamy preoccupation left Amy neglecting Kiara’s reaction. Thank God. Amy’s words convicted Kiara in the worst way. Amy’s ideas, and ideals, were carbon copies of Kiara—once upon a time—until Woodland, and Ken’s presence in her life. In an effort to find conformity, acceptance and, yes, pleasure, Kiara knew she had gone shallow in spots, and this conversation with Amy served to amplify that fact.
So Kiara continued the process of transforming. “Amy, if Tyler treats you well, and he cares about you, and you like him, why wait around for a different guy just because he's popular, or a handsome jock? You've got so much to offer, and to match up with someone who recognizes how special you are, is an amazing blessing.”
Kiara turned to put a cover on top of the potato salad then walked to the fridge to store it.
“Like you and Pastor Ken?” Dishware bobbled, but Kiara executed a fast recovery, trembling as she safely shelved the salad then turned back around.
There was a deliberate watchful manner to Amy's posture, and then she said, “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be nosy or anything, it's just that I figured since I'm confessing to you, you might want to do the same.”
“Pastor Ken?” The words were nothing but a stall maneuver. She didn't know how to react, or what to say to this insightful, keen-eyed young lady.
Amy elaborated. “Last night. The trees.”
Kiara’s heart lurched. “Yeah.”
“I had to go to the bathroom, and the night was so pretty. There were billions of stars. I wanted to go see the lake. I started down the path through the woods, and I, well, I'm sorry, but I saw you and Pastor Ken.”
Kiara didn’t know what to say.
“Kissing,” Amy clarified.
“Oh.”
They eyed one another, mutually unsure how to proceed. Kiara felt trapped by the shared knowledge of an event that she had hoped would remain private.
“You really like him,” Amy continued. “I could tell that before I saw what I did.”
“Amy, I need to ask you, please, to be discreet about what you saw. It was just a kiss, and it was completely innocent, so I don't want gossip to build, not around Pastor Ken. OK? Can I trust you?”
Her expression turned instantly affronted. “I wouldn't hurt you guys. I didn't tell anyone, Kiara. And I won't. I promise. I really like you both.”
Kiara crossed through the kitchen and sat down on the stool next to Amy’s. Amy flipped her hair over her shoulder and fingered the spoon she still held, studying it. Kiara settled her hand over Amy’s to still the nervous fidgeting.
Amy’s features went soft. “I went back to bed and you came in a few minutes later. I could tell by your breathing that you couldn't get to sleep right away. Truth is? I envy you finding that kind of a moment. It seemed so perfect, and wonderful.”
“Life isn't ever idyllic, OK? Understand that Ken misses his wife very, very much. And, in truth, I don't know that I'm the best person to fill that kind of a role in his life.”
“Kiara?” she paused. “You're awesome. How can you doubt that? Like, ever?”
Quite easily, she wanted to say, but Amy’s plaintive, emphatic decree softened Kiara’s heart and her determination to turn away from the onslaught of emotion Ken stirred.
The screen door of the mess hall squeaked open, and the guys stormed in, laughing boisterously, colliding with one another on purpose, and preparing to toss a football across the kitchen area, until...
“Guys—food. Don't mess around the food.”
Ken entered the hall and herded the gang to a seating area where they were scheduled to reconfirm the delegation of table set up and cleaning assignments for the following day. Kiara spared him a grateful look for his intervention, and he gave her an understanding nod. Kiara tucked a piece of aluminum foil across the top of a tray full of fruit selections she had cleaned and arranged just before her conversation with Amy had begun.
Understanding the need for their interlude to conclude, Amy left the stool and stretched, making a happy sound as she sifted her fingers through her hair. “I call shower!” she sang.
Kiara launched into action; nightmares that featured icy jets of water danced through her head. She gave her newfound confidante a mock glower and literally jogged toward the exit. “Think again, Miss Thing. I'm pulling rank. I crave hot water. For five measly seconds I need hot water! I'll be out in a flash. You can even time me.”
“Kiara!” Amy bellowed, chasing after her at full-bore. “No fair!”
The sound of Ken’s laughter tickled the skin along the back of Kiara’s neck, and danced against her senses as she and Amy charged from the mess hall.