Larkspur Dreams

Nine


Lark went back to her sketchbook and then switched on her French language CD. “Bon soir!” she repeated after the teacher. She chuckled. Who am I kidding? She couldn’t smother the anticipation she felt about the coming evening. Work suddenly felt like going through the motions, but she still tried to concentrate on her charcoal drawing. Half an hour later on the last bit of shading, the doorbell rang.

Everett? Hope he didn’t change his mind. Lark flung the door open to find Jeremy standing before her looking ruggedly attractive in his ponytail and scruffy jeans. But then he always looked that way—like he’d just gotten back from bungee jumping in the Grand Canyon. “Welcome! Soyez le bienvenu!”

“Thank you. Guess you’re working on those French language tapes again.” Jeremy rubbed his chin, which seemed to have a perpetual five o’clock shadow.

Lark leaned against the doorframe. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thanks, but I’d better get going.”

But you just arrived. Lark blinked hard. “You look sort of expectant.”

“Boy, I hope not.” Jeremy gave her a smirk.

“I mean, did I forget something?” A sparrow flew overheard looking jittery in the cold. Lark could certainly relate.

“The teen craft fair. Remember? You’re the one in charge of signing people up for the pies. Since I have my bike, we can load your Hummer.”

Lark’s hand flew to her mouth. “Pies? Teen craft fair. I wish I could plead amnesia.”

Jeremy frowned. “You’re sweet, but you’re not going to be able to charm your way out of this one.”

“Oh, dear. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Lark asked. I can’t believe I forgot.

“We’ve got a snag if you don’t have thirty pies.”

Lark smiled, wishing she could disappear. “I don’t have any. . . I mean I didn’t—”

“You didn’t sign anybody up?” Jeremy’s mouth popped open like he’d jumped off a cliff without the cord.

“No. But I can buy a lot of pies at the store. I have money. How many do we need?”

Jeremy scratched his head. “Well, I have to say, one of the reasons people come is because they’re looking forward to a thing called homemade.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can make thirty homemade pies by this evening.”

“Not unless you’re my grandmother.” Jeremy wore his trademark half smile. “Okay, how about this. . .I buy the pies. Some good ones, and you’ll owe me a dinner this week.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Lark said. “Drive-through burgers, right?”

“Wrong. No junk food. I don’t care where we go, but it’s got to be expensive.” Jeremy stuffed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head.

Lark noticed he had his usual stance when he was full of beans. “I’m being robbed here. Police!” She chuckled. “I’m truly sorry. I’m a mess about remembering things sometimes.”

“Yes, you are.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess we’ll need to get you some string to tie around one of your little fingers.”

“Well, they’ll probably want a rope for my neck when the parents find out those are fake homemade pies.”

“No ropes, but there’s still some tar and feathers in the church storeroom for me.”

“Oh, yeah? And what did you do?” Lark asked.

Jeremy shrugged. “I volunteered the teens to be servers at the Valentine’s banquet. Without their permission.”

“Ooww. You are in so much trouble,” Lark said. “And who decided to have the teen craft fair so close to the fall festival?”

“Yeah, I know. Bad move. Bet I don’t do that again next year.” Jeremy shifted his weight back and forth. “And so what magnificent mischief have you been up to, little lady?”

“Oh, not a lot. Just trying to coax a hermit crab out of his shell.”

“And have you succeeded?”

“Maybe,” Lark said.

Jeremy put a hand up. “Well, I’ve learned never to ask details. So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night for dinner. Six. Okay?”

“On the back of your bike?” She noticed his usual scent. Eau de motor oil.

Jeremy winked. “No, we can take your Hummer. Okay?”

Lark grinned and watched as Jeremy hopped on his motorbike, revved the engine, and rumbled off with no helmet. His habit of never wearing a helmet did seem kind of reckless, but it was hard to admonish Jeremy for irresponsibility when she had just forgotten all about the teen craft fair.

Pies. Hmm. She shut the door, vaguely recalling signing up. I wonder what happened. She glanced at the calendar on the side of her fridge. Yikes. She saw the bold words in the Tuesday slot. “Pies, craft fair, don’t forget,” was the note she’d scrawled to herself. Maybe I need to get my life in order.

Lark could hear the words How are you? coming from the kitchen CD player and then Comment ca va? What a good question. How am I anyway? She felt befuddled about her apparent unreliability and even more confused about her relationship with Jeremy.

The phone rang, and Lark startled. She glanced at the Caller ID as she picked up the phone. Calli was calling from her home in Springdale.

After a few pleasantries, Lark told her all about the day’s events. “But I think it all ended well. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“I mean he invited me to the party this evening even though I sent over those mothballs. I still can’t believe I did that.” Lark groaned.

“I can’t either. It’s a good thing he didn’t think you were crackers. What made you think of mothballs?”

“It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. You know—”

Calli made a comical huffing sound. “Before you had time to pray kind of thing?”

“Hey, are you spreading a little chastisement?” Lark sighed. “Oh well, I deserve it.”

“No way, ladybug.” Calli did a smacking thing with her lips. “Well, maybe a little.”

Lark grinned. “Hey, what’s with this ladybug stuff, anyway? Surely I’m not that flighty.”

“I wondered when you’d finally ask me,” Calli said. “This is a good story, so you’d better sit for this one.”

Lark perched herself on a kitchen stool and waited for her friend to continue.

Calli took in a long breath. “Well, one time I was exiting off 540, and I saw this ladybug on my windshield. While I turned all my corners, it held on. No matter what happened, the sweet little thing stayed there fluttering its wings and clinging to dear life. When I got home, I held out my hand, and that ladybug climbed on my fingers and flew away as if it knew all along everything would be okay. With what you went through in your life, I guess it’s kind of the way I see you.”

“Thanks, Calli. It is a good story. Consider yourself hugged.” A few tears pooled in Lark’s eyes. “By the way, I sure wish you’d move to Eureka Springs.”

Calli sniffled. “Find me a good man to marry there, and I guess I’d be forced to move.” She blew her nose.

Lark wondered if her friend could be serious.

“Girl, now you know I’m kidding,” Calli said.

“I wasn’t sure.” Lark stifled a laugh.

“You don’t have to start setting me up with blind dates like some orthopedic queen.”

Lark gasped. “I would never do that.”

Calli laughed. “Well, I heard this pregnant pause, so I just thought maybe you were getting one of your little ideas.”

“No, it’s just indigestion from all the bean burritos we ate last night,” Lark said.

After another round of laughs and some sweet good-byes, Lark busied herself by collecting acorns from the backyard. She found several dozen of the little nuts, which had been peeking their heads out of the snow. Lark gathered them up and stuffed them in the pocket of her lavender painting smock.

When she brought her treasures inside, she turned on the kettle for tea and gingerly placed her acorns in an earthenware bowl on the kitchen table. Some of the acorns were missing their little hats, but she thought those looked interesting, too, so she put them all together. After turning off the overhead light, she switched on a freestanding spotlight, which gave the acorns an oblique light of dramatic shadows. Ahh. Perfect for sketching now.

But her mind drifted again to the evening ahead. After all, Everett was escorting her to one of the most romantic places in town. She dropped three black currant teabags into her Victorian pot as she thought of the dress she’d wear—a floor-length emerald gown with color-coordinating evening bag and shoes. She laughed at her sudden attention to detail as if she were getting ready for her very first date.

Of course, crowds of people would be at the party. Perhaps even women who’d had a crush on Everett. A speck of jealousy? This is so not me. Yeah, and I haven’t been myself lately either. I guess attraction does that to people. Takes a perfectly sane sanguine temperament and turns her into a paranoid melancholy. Snap out of it, Lark. She poured hot water into her little pot, letting the heat relax her face. Maybe what she really needed was a few relaxing hours at a local spa. A seaweed mask, some eucalyptus steam, and a massage. Oh, yeah.

The teacher on the French language tape said the next two words on her list, roman and ami, which meant romance and friend. Lark hurled an acorn at the CD player. Those two words were beginning to gnaw at her spirit whether in French or in English. They unfortunately represented the difference between Jeremy and Everett. And it broke her heart. After meeting Everett, she knew Jeremy would be just a good friend now. And no more.

Lark would always think of Jeremy as a great guy. They’d prayed together. Laughed a lot. And there’d even been a spark or two. But now she’d experienced the difference between intense fondness and what? Better not go there quite yet. Lark covered the pot with her mother’s old, knitted cozy to keep in the heat. While the tea steeped, she started her sketch of the acorns.

But with Everett, the attraction and the interest were growing by the hour, and she couldn’t even transpose all her feelings into plain words. If all those mysteries could be examined, would one even want to know? Would people truly desire to dissect such a splendid gift from God? It would be like explaining the dynamics of a rainbow. Understanding every detail of its prismatic effects would not make a rainbow any more beautiful.

Lark poured her tea as she looked at her sketch. Not bad so far. Perhaps better than the last one. Maybe she could do a series of nature greeting cards using charcoal. Interesting thought. She did have a publisher some months ago who’d asked her to send some samples, but she’d never had the time.

She fiddled with the shading, smudging it, to give the picture more dimension. The steam curled up from her teacup. Black currant. Fragrant and fruity. She took a slow sip.

One renegade acorn suddenly fell away from the rest, so she placed it back with the cluster and then reflected on the day Everett had come to live on her street. She’d wondered how God would allow Everett Holden to change her life or how she would change his. It was happening, but not quite how she’d expected. She had a feeling now they’d be a bit more than friends.

Oh, phooey on the sketch. Her mind had gone to mush. She might as well shower and get ready for the evening. If she dressed early it would be as if she could make the evening come sooner. She chuckled at the silly thought.

Lark stood in her bedroom and studied her gown hanging by the closet. The breathtaking dress had a dark green, velvet bodice. Sheer silk of a paler hue flowed from the waist like a stream. She’d found the little gem on a clearance rack in Springdale, but it fit her figure as if it had been made for her. How do you say dreamy in French?

After Lark showered, she lifted and pinned her dark locks up in an elegant swirl. When she was in high school, her mother had taught her how to fix her hair for special dates. On those evenings, her mother brushed her long hair and hummed softly. It had felt so good and so comforting. What she wouldn’t give for one of those moments to come again. No, Lark, you’re not going to let yourself cry. She sniffled a bit. In the next breath, she hummed one of the songs her mother loved: “Go Tell It on the Mountain.”

After a few more rounds of singing and lotions and primping and jewelry, she gazed into her full-length mirror at all her efforts. Okay, not bad. “Well, what do you think, Igor? Do I look pretty?”

“Pretty,” Igor’s one word was just enough.

“Thank you, Igor.”

“Thank you, Igor.”

Lark laughed and glanced at herself in the mirror again. Like Cinderella stepping into her coach, all was in readiness. She just hoped the evening would go better for her than it had for the fairytale heroine.

Well, now she could just sit down, twiddle her thumbs, and look over a coffee table book until Everett arrived. She eased down on the couch so as not to pull too hard on the bodice or crumple the silk. She flipped nonchalantly through a book on European castles. Yes. Spectacular. It even comes with a moat. Calli would certainly enjoy selling it. She’d say, “Your own unique security system.” She thumped her finger on what was left of the castle’s turret and then looked at the time. A little after six o’clock.

Moving right along. The castles of England. Okay. She looked more closely at the photo of a big, brooding castle on a hill. Lark slammed the book shut. She’d never been good at killing time. It was much too valuable to waste. She just wasn’t used to getting ready for a date so early or fussing over anything.

In fact, so much of her career had come so easily, she’d let herself slide into a blithe approach to life. She wondered if the ease also allowed her to slip into foolhardiness when she wasn’t paying attention.

But this evening’s preparations had been anything but careless. She’d taken great pains in getting ready for what she hoped would be a perfect date with Everett. Like in a fairy tale, a classic evening they would never forget.