Calculated Risk (27 page)

She turned to the mirror. “I love it. It's a Victorian hat, and it's worn like this.” She tilted the brim to one side, positioning it low over one eye.

He flipped over the tag. “It's called a Rembrandt.” And it cost about as much as an original Rembrandt.

“Perhaps that's because its fashioned after the black hat Rembrandt wore in his self-portrait.” She cocked her head, setting a pose. “Is it me?”

She was gorgeous. His grin weakened. Was there nothing, not even a silly hat, which could spoil Cisney's attractiveness? Probably not. Her beauty shone from within.

He renewed his smile and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you could wear any of these hats and it would be you.”

She blushed and removed the Rembrandt. “Your words are precious because I'm told by a woman I trust that analytical men, like actuaries, don't often express compliments, even if they think such lovely words. So, thank you.”

“You're welcome.” If she was referring to Mom as her source, they'd sure gotten chummy fast while he'd been on his interview. Mom must have been a busy little bee, pollinating Cisney's ear with the ways of analytical men and his childhood incidents worth mining.

She replaced the hat on its stand, and they wandered to the winter headwear section.

Somehow, after his protests and against his resolve, they left the shop wearing new stocking hats, his black, and hers red with an orange and purple knit flower on the band.

Cisney linked her arm in his and laughed. “You could have at least let me buy you the blue hat with the red stripe.”

“I like black.”

“Cisney.”

They swung around toward a man's voice.

“Jason.”

 

****

 

Nick regarded the fool who'd dumped Cisney. A big guy. Muscular. Ruddy complexion. A little taller than himself.

While he sized up Cisney's ex, the guy returned the favor, and then locked his baby blues on Cisney. The jock approached her as if he planned to kiss her cheek.

She stepped back. Her arm, yoked with Nick's, drew him with her.

Jason hesitated, and then retreated a pace. “You look great, Cis.”

Cisney's body tensed.

Had the guy used the nickname to mark his territory?

Cisney raised her face to Nick's. “This is Jason Disney.”

Cisney Disney? She had to be kidding. The name should have been their first clue they weren't meant for each other.

She returned her gaze to Jason. “This is Nick LeCrone, a friend from Virginia National.”

Why had she added the friend modifier? She hadn't introduced Jason with any description.
Jason Disney,
the jerk who dumped me
.

Jason flicked a glance at Nick, so brief it reeked of putdown. Then the muscleman turned sideways, extending his hand toward a store window. “Cis, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Cisney's arm, still hooked in Nick's, stiffened. “No thanks. Nick and I were just leaving.”

Was Cisney still influenced by this guy? Her edginess showed that Jason still aroused her emotions. Anger? Fear of coming under his magnetism? If she was over Jason, wouldn't she be less jumpy?

Jason's eyes pleaded with Cisney. “I need less than a minute.” He swung his gaze to Nick, his stare cold and condescending. “You can give us a moment, can't you?”

Nick shrugged. “It's up to Cisney.”

Cisney tightened her grip on his arm and tugged. “Let's go, Nick.”

Right decision.

Jason dropped his outstretched arm and planted his fists on his hips, his face flushed to an angry red. “Expect a call from me, Cis.”

“Please don't, Jason.”

Had a hint of uncertainty notched her voice? Maybe he was reading things into her tone. But no question, her words hadn't issued a command.

Their linked bodies turned from Jason in unison, but for him, and maybe for her, the seemingly intimate rotation was a mechanical means of ending the encounter. Cisney and Jason's reunion had proved more eye opening than he wanted.

They walked a few yards. She twisted and looked back at Jason.

A bowling ball dropped in Nick's stomach.

 

 

 

 

20

 

A cold gust blew a white fast-food bag across the parking lot. Cisney snuggled against Nick. What had Jason wanted to tell her? Probably that he and Candy Sue were history. And Jason was lonely.

She looked up at Nick. “I'm sorry about the scene with Jason.”

He looked straight ahead, his expression stone-faced. “Yeah.”

Was that all he had to say? Yeah? Maybe she should let go of his arm. Reciprocate his coolness. But succumbing to hurt feelings would ruin the already tainted evening.

She should be thankful Jason hadn't made a scene. When she'd told him she wished him well in their last call, she'd meant it. And at first, he'd seemed contrite in the mall. Then the way he looked at Nick had raised red flags. She knew too well what could boil beneath his so-called forgive-me charisma. Why had she put up with his manipulative charm for six months?

“Where are you parked?” Nick said.

He sounded detached, as if the encounter with Jason hadn't happened. Hadn't he seen how red Jason's face was, or heard his threat?
Expect a call from me, Cis.

If only Nick knew how relieved she was to see Jason head in the opposite direction after they'd turned their backs on his bravado, then maybe Nick wouldn't be so dispassionate.

Jason had several pounds on Nick, all muscle. He'd shown what he could do when another man made advances toward her. Like the black eye he'd given the overly friendly drunk a few months ago.

“My SUV's over that way…” She released Nick's arm and pointed, then retracted her finger and surveyed the cars. “No. I think I parked closer to the other end.”

Nick stopped. His heavy sigh created a cloud in the night air. “So, which is it?”

Withdrawn a minute ago, and now gruff. Was Nick jealous and taking it out on her? If so, bumping into Jason revealed a side of Nick she'd hoped he lacked.

She swallowed her hurt. “I think it's toward the end there, and a few rows back.”

They walked in silence until they reached her vehicle.

She pressed the unlock button on her key fob. He opened her door, and she slid onto the cold leather seat.

He looked at her, hesitated, and then leaned down and captured her gaze. “I'm sorry, Cisney. I shouldn't have been brusque with you. You've done nothing wrong. I'm angry with myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I should never have pursued you. I didn't realize how unready for a relationship I am until I saw how attached you still are to Jason.”

“What do you mean? I didn't leave you standing in the middle of the mall and have a side conversation with Jason. If you remember, I refused to talk to him.” This wasn't happening.

“I said you did nothing to disappoint me…consciously, anyway. I'm frustrated with myself. Period.”

She scanned her actions since Jason had stopped them. What had she done to indicate she cared for Jason? Was Nick making something up to get rid of her? She felt like her lungs weren't pulling in enough air. With or without oxygen, she would not cry. “Tell me one thing I did unconsciously that made you think I care for Jason.”

He caressed her cheek. “You looked back, Cisney. You looked back at Jason.”

He turned and strode away.

 

 

 

21

 

Curled up in the corner of her sofa, Cisney hugged BoSheep and wept. All her past relationships had been disasters, but the growing one with Nick had seemed so promising. For once in her life, she'd ignored what she thought Daddy prized in a man and had followed her heart. And, she'd chosen a man who loved God and who encouraged her faith.

But she'd been unrewarded for doing the right thing. She didn't exactly blame God, but…OK. She did blame Him. Pretending otherwise didn't fool God.

A new flow of tears dripped off her jaw. She yanked tissues from the nearby box and wiped her face. She needed to stop crying and go to bed. Black circles under swollen eyes were the last things she wanted to wear on Angela's big day. No way would she let on to Angela tomorrow that Nick had broken her heart.

“Lord, I love Nick
.
” Her words came out in a wail.

She'd never dreamed the actuary she'd known for a year as a colleague could capture her heart, but in two weeks he had. She'd even thought God's hand was in it. Wasn't a godly man like Nick someone the Lord would want her to seek for a lasting marriage?

“Oooh!” She whipped tissues from the box until a pile grew on her lap. What did God want her to do?
Lord, I thought You were on my side this time.

Her gaze settled on her Bible on the coffee table. Oops. Hadn't she promised God, after the Thanksgiving Jason fiasco, to run to His Word when trials arose?

She placed BoSheep on the sofa and lifted her Bible, still open from this morning's reading. The day's passage came from John's Gospel, relating the day Jesus fed five thousand people on a remote country hillside. Jesus had accepted a boy's offered lunch of two fish and five loaves of bread and fed all the hungry people.

The boy brought his meager resources to Jesus to help solve the problem, and then Jesus did His part…the impossible part.

“Lord, what can I offer to help eliminate Nick's misconception? He's hurt so badly, and he's so bullheaded that he's right, he won't believe I looked back at Jason for Nick's protection. How do I prove to Nick I'm worth the risk?”

A plan entered her mind as clear as spring water. Its radical nature and possible ramifications put much of what she had at stake. Could she trust the Lord with her offering? That she wouldn't end up in worse trouble?

She shoved off the couch in search of her laptop. She'd do her part.

 

****

 

Cisney watched the morning sky grow pink outside her apartment window. She closed her Bible. Today, if she did nothing else, she'd trust God. The day already held its blessings.

Angela's mother had taken responsibility to transport the bridesmaids' dresses to the church. Hallelujah.

Cisney packed her undergarments and satin pumps in her I'm-a-Sunday-School-Teacher bag. She regarded the thin stack of envelopes containing the documents she'd worked on until after midnight. Her heart took a few irregular beats as she slid them into the bag.
Lord, I trust You.
She grabbed the bag and her coffee from the kitchen counter and headed for her SUV.

According to Angela's instructions, Cisney parked in the lot across the street from a magnificent old hotel. Inside, her red ballet flats padded the marble floor as she hurried past the enormous faux marble columns to the restaurant.

She hit the dining room threshold five minutes early, but of course, the last person arriving would be considered late. The mothers of the bride and groom, the bride, and her four other bridesmaids sat at a round table covered in a white tablecloth, laughing and sipping orange juice. Was the empty chair next to Angela reserved for her because she was the maid of honor? If so, how sweet.

She hugged Angela, and then Angela's mother. She smiled her greetings to the other women, whom she barely knew, and slid into her seat of honor.

Angela nudged Cisney with her elbow. “How's Nick?”

She paused before opening her mouth. A first. How could she avoid talking about Nick and her as a couple? “He's driving to Charlotte after work to hunt for an apartment tomorrow.”

Angela's face fell.

Why did Nick's departure from Richmond disappoint Angela? Cisney searched her friend's eyes. “What's the matter?”

Did Angela know something about their situation? Impossible.

Angela hesitated. “I guess no harm in telling you now. Monday, I emailed Nick an invitation to our wedding, as a surprise for you. Although he didn't answer my email, I hoped he'd come.”

Cisney hid her disappointment and placed her napkin on her lap. Wouldn't Nick's presence tonight have been the perfect answer to her prayers? After the wedding, she could have given him the envelopes and watched how God used them. But Nick's fast-approaching relocation had to get in the way.
Sorry, Lord. I trust You.

She had to say something. “You look radiant, Ange.”

The bride grinned. “I thought this day would never arrive.”

Sidetracking Angela from a conversation about Nick was too easy. The wedding day promise must have mellowed her tenacious buddy.

Cisney perused the menu. The poached eggs sounded good, but so did the omelet. She'd go with whichever popped into her mind when the server came to take her order. She closed the menu and chatted with her breakfast companions.

Halfway through Cisney's omelet, Angela's toothy childhood friend, Lucy, clinked her fork against her glass. Lucy waited for the conversations to cease, her face glowing with eagerness to deliver her announcement.

“Angela, we have a surprise for you. I sent an email to everyone here…” She turned to Cisney. “I'm sorry, we didn't have your email address, and we didn't want to ask Angela for it, or it would ruin the surprise.”

Cisney smiled and waved away Lucy's concern. She was one hundred percent behind whatever activity would make this day special for Angela.

Lucy closed her mouth over her large teeth, but her lips open again. “Anyway, Angela, we've all agreed to devote our entire day to you without any interruptions, as good attendants should. So…” Lucy wrinkled her nose, donned a squinty-eyed grin, and vibrated her fists close to her chest.

Cisney caught herself holding her breath.

Lucy motioned to the portly woman named Amy, who produced a flaccid pink velvet bag with a white satin drawstring.