“I don’t mind driving,” I said, as politely as I could.
“I’m sure you don’t, but your driving makes me nervous.”
I laughed. “My driving makes you nervous?”
“It’s your inexperience out on the roads, Tyler. You’re killing me.”
“Hey, I’m out on the roads at home all the time.”
“Yeah, in a buggy.”
“So?”
She shook her head, the hoops dancing on her shoulders. “Totally not the same. This is Orange County—practically L.A. I’m sure you’ve heard our streets aren’t for wimps. Not that you’re a wimp. You’re just too…nice. Let me drive.”
I huffed my reluctant agreement and folded myself into the passenger seat.
“Awesome.” Lark flitted over to the driver’s side and got in, tossing her camera bag gently onto the backseat next to my backpack
“Where are we going?” I asked, not that it truly mattered.
“Balboa Island. You’re going to love it.”
“Like I loved sushi?” I pulled the seat belt across my chest and clicked it into place.
“Oh, be quiet,” Lark said, but with a smile. “It’s way cool, as expensive as Manhattan to live there, but so cute. Lots of photo ops.”
“Ops?”
“Opportunities. The water, the sailboats, the houses, people on the streets. Lots of things to take pictures of. And it’s only fifteen minutes away.”
She pulled from the curb and took off down the street. “I googled you last night.”
“You what?”
“I googled you. I looked up the Amish on the Internet.”
“Great.” I could only imagine what “facts” she might have discovered about the Amish there.
“You guys aren’t some wacky cult or something. You’re Christians. Like, born again and all of that, huh?”
Okay, so at least that one was true. I nodded.
“Cool. Me too.”
“Me too what?”
“I’m a Christian.”
“Oh.” I knew my voice sounded a little too surprised, but I couldn’t help it. God’s grace was extended to all, of course, but I didn’t think that those who responded to His call usually had nose rings and tattoos.
“Is that so hard to believe?” she asked, seeming genuinely offended for the first time since we’d met.
I thought for a moment and then decided to be honest. “Yes, actually, though that’s a reflection on me, not you. I guess my world does get a little small sometimes. I know plenty of non-Amish Christians, but they’re generally more…they generally don’t…” I floundered.
“It’s okay, Ty. I know what you’re trying to say.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Most Christians don’t eat sushi.”
I inhaled, ready to respond, when I glanced her way and saw that her eyes were twinkling. She was teasing me.
“Touché,” I replied with a grin, echoing one of my dad’s expressions as I turned to look out the window.
Lark was silent for a moment as she drove us south toward the bridge that would take us to the island.
“The world is a lot more than buggies and bonnets, Tyler. You can’t imagine the things that are out here to see and do and learn and discover. There’s just so much to know.”
I nodded, glancing at her and then again turning away. Truly, my desire was not to know the world.
I just wanted to know my place in it.
EIGHTEEN
When we finally crossed the bridge onto Balboa Island, Lark asked what kind of camera I had. “You have one, right? I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask you that before.”
I smiled. “I don’t have one of my own, no, but I did bring along several I found at my dad’s house. I figured you could tell me which one I should be using.”
“Sure. No prob. I’ll take a look before we get started.”
As we searched for a parking place, Lark told me about Balboa Island, saying it was actually two man-made islands in Newport Harbor, a larger island and a smaller one separated by a canal and accessible by a bridge. We were on the smaller of the two, which boasted quaint buildings, restaurants, waterfront properties, and lots of tourists. Parking appeared to be scarce. We finally found a spot on a quiet residential street.
I unzipped my backpack and was about to produce the cameras for her inspection when she hopped from the car.
“Wait,” I said. “What about—”
“Coffee, then cameras. That’s lesson one, to get the two C’s in the right order. Coffee first, always.”
She grabbed her bag, closed the door, and took off walking down the street. After a moment, I managed to follow, though once again I found myself trotting to catch up with her. When I did, she tossed me the keys with a smile.
We found a little outdoor café on the next corner, and soon the two of us were about to be doing the one thing I had wanted to avoid, dining together in a restaurant. Still, it clearly wasn’t a date this time. I was paying her for the session, after all, and the moment she had a caramel macchiato in her hand and a seat in the shade at a little wrought iron table, she was all business.