The Minister Takes a Break

2. Why tech? Why would anyone work in tech? I had no idea. The money, I guessed; it couldn't possibly be interesting work. OK, I was in it for the money.

3. What had I studied in college? This was trickier. I had double majored in history and religion, then gotten a degree in social work, then gone to divinity school. No self-respecting techie would do any of that. Um. Well, maybe I had gotten my liberal arts degrees, but hadn't been able to find work, and then hadn't clicked with social work, so I went to computer school? That would ring true. After all, everybody stereotyped liberal arts degrees and social work as financial dead ends, at least in my experience.

4. Why hadn't I married? What with my education and not being able to find a job, I hadn't started making any money until recently. I didn't want to get married until I could support a wife and family? Hmm. Did that fit in with my feminist beliefs? I guess it would have to. I was complex, damn it, and economics trumped ideology!

I reviewed my handiwork, and sighed. I wasn't deceptive by nature, and this whole exercise kind of depressed me. But I thought about Stella, and Sarah's kiss, and rallied. It was time, and if this would help me do it, then I was in.

Sarah

Andy and I didn't win on our next trivia outing -- the final round killed us, all about when certain models of cars were introduced, and we got only one of those right (the Ford Mustang, which debuted in 1964, if you're keeping track.)

But we had a great time anyway, stuffing ourselves with pizza and pie and using three of our ten-dollar coupons from the previous week to pay for it all. Seamus and company did not make an appearance, although I kind of wished he would walk in and see me laughing with Andy. And our waitress, Heidi, was definitely bummed that she'd probably never see the luscious Liam again, although she about burst an artery when I told her what happened.

"That son of a bitch! How dare he break up with you by text?"

"I know. But I did get a pretty great new trivia partner out of it, so not a total loss."

We both looked at Andy, who smiled serenely at us.

"I've seen you here before," Heidi mused. "With another group."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, Bob slipped on ice last week and wound up in the ER with a contusion and a back injury. They had to cancel, but they expect to be back next week."

"That's terrible! I hope he'll be OK."

"He's tough. And Ashley's a medic. I bet he's been iced and elevated within an inch of his life."

We all laughed and Heidi bustled off after giving me the smile of the sisterhood, the one where we tell each other without words that we approve of the guy the other is with. It made me feel warm inside. When I was with Seamus, other women flirted with him and maybe shot me a look of envy, but they never seemed to wish me well. I smiled, and Andy picked up on it.

"Why the smile, princess?"

"She liked you. She approves."

"I'll try to live up to her expectations, then."

After the contest ended, we walked slowly to my car. It had been one of those false spring days we sometimes get in February or March, and temperatures even at this hour were still in the 50s -- light jacket weather for hardcore Midwesterners like us.

"It was fun to compete with you again," he told me. "Do you think maybe we could have a date someplace that doesn't trigger your cutthroat tendencies, though?"

I laughed.

"Probably not -- I can turn almost anything into a competition! Just ask my brothers."

"I guess we'll have to enter an indoor triathlon, then. Work off some of that pizza and pie, and indulge your competitive instincts at the same time."

"Nah. My job is pretty physical, and a lot of my hobbies, too. I get plenty of exercise. Not that I mind mopping the floor with those I beat when I do compete, though."

"You'll wear this poor boy out!"

"That would be fun," I said impulsively. "Would you like me to wear you out?"

"At some point," he replied, assessing me. "But I'm an old-fashioned guy. I'd rather take it slowly, if you don't mind."

"You're not gay, are you?"

He looked puzzled. "I'm pretty certain a gay guy would not ask you for a date. A good friend is gay, and I feel sure he told me that." He looked up as if checking his memory. "Yep. They definitely don't date women. And I do. So, nope, not gay. Just slow."

"I guess you put me in my place."

He smiled down at me.

"Sorry if that came off that way; I didn't mean to sound condescending. My best friend from high school is gay. He got beaten up a few times back then; the bastards even broke his arm once. Allegedly by accident, but I never believed that story. They meant to hurt him badly. Anyway, I'm still protective of him."

"That's awful. I'm sorry."

"John's a great guy, and a tech god! He met and married a wonderful man a few years ago. I did ... I was at their wedding. Anyway, let's get back to the matter at hand. Would you enjoy a non-competition-based date sometime?"

"How about Saturday?"

"I'm out of town this weekend for a family thing. How about dinner the next Saturday? We can get to know each other better without having to wrack our brains for useless knowledge."

"I'd like that. You know, we still haven't talked about work! Pretty amazing."

"Yes," he replied, looking thoughtful. "Yes, it is."

He bent suddenly and kissed my cheek. "Till next Saturday then. And let's be sure to keep texting between now and then so we can keep up our flirting skills."

I smiled. "I love to flirt!"

He regarded me for a moment, then smirked.

"Is flirting a competition for you?"

"Abso-flirtin'-lutely!"

"Oh no. What have I unleashed?"

"You'll just have to wait nine days and find out!"

Andy

I spent Saturday with my brother and his family. I adore my nephews and niece and the feeling seems to be mutual. The little boys swarm their Uncle Andy the second I arrive, shrieking with glee and treating me exactly like some sort of living jungle gym, but it's my 9-year-old niece with whom I share the tightest bond. We take long walks together, hiking through neighborhoods and making up stories about the houses and the people who live there. For Halloween, we dream up a scary story; for Thanksgiving, a story about sharing and gratitude -- you get the idea. Her only rule is that every story must have a horse in it. She's a wonderful girl, still young enough to want to hold my hand as we stroll, and she makes me wistful. I'd love one or two kids of my own, but I have to be realistic: I've reached an age where that may not happen.

On Sunday, I preached, once again failing to get the Baxter kid's attention, then went on my hospital and shut-in visits. Those duties fulfilled, I texted John to meet me for wings and a game.

"Sure! Aidan's busy, so hungry/available. When/where?"

"Wing and a Player, half an hour. Doable?"

"C u there. I'll buy."

I smiled. John and Aidan, a commercial pilot, both did pretty well financially, and John had it in his head -- I think the French call it the idée fixe -- that I was still as poor as I'd been as a student. He nearly always bought my meal or our tickets when we met up, and I let him because I knew it made him feel good. He'd never forgotten how I'd stood by him back in school, so he made it his ongoing mission to take care of me now.

At the pub, we hugged and sat down, not needing to look at the menu to know which beers and wings we wanted.

"So what's up?"

I cut to the chase.

"I need your help."

"Don't tell me you got another virus! I swear, Andy, if you disabled that software..."

"No, nothing like that. It's... it's a woman."

John's gaze sharpened and he leaned forward. "Oh? What kind of woman? Not that Connie woman from church again?"

"Oh no. I haven't seen her in a couple of weeks. I'm hoping the good lord answered my prayers and found her a boyfriend. No, this is someone else."

"Well, well! I'm all ears. Make your confession, son."

I spilled the whole story, John listening carefully and asking me to clarify occasionally. When I got to the part about my plan, he sat straight up, eyes wide with horror as he heard me out.

"Are you serious? Andy, I've known you since we were 14 and this is, hands down, the stupidest plan you've ever come up with. And that's saying something!"

"I know," I replied. "But I really like her. And just once in my life, I want to have a normal relationship."

"If you're in it, it'll never be a normal relationship!" He rubbed his eyes. "Just tell her and take your lumps. If she doesn't want to be with you, better to know that now."

"That's easy for you to say. You've got the love of your life. I'm 37 and not getting any better looking. I may never meet anyone."

He looked at me.

"You really intend to do this, don't you?"

"The chemistry is fantastic. I really, really want to see where this goes."

"I'm going on record as saying this has every chance of blowing up in your face. But you're my best friend and I'll support your decision."

I exhaled. "Thanks. Now -- how can I learn to be a tech expert by next weekend?"

He sighed, then chuckled. "I'll email you some links. And you'd better keep me looped in. I want to hear every detail of how this plays out."

Sarah

The next few weeks passed in a blur. I was super busy at work, as usual, and seeing Andy a couple of nights a week, for trivia, dinner or the occasional movie. He told me he had tried social work, but had transitioned to computer tech work for the money. I gratefully noted he did not blather on about it, though. For once, I had a potential boyfriend who was more interested in what I had to say than in impressing me with his own magnificence.

Not that he was silent -- we talked all the time. He asked some excellent questions about my work and seemed so insightful about the feelings it raised -- probably that social work background. We had several good discussions just about feelings and vulnerabilities, and I swear I got as much out of the conversations as he did. He had a way of showing me paths and viewpoints I had never considered before. Definitely not your typical techie.

As time went by, we did get a little more physical. His kisses could make my toes curl with desire, and he loved me to sit on his lap while we made out. Even though I could feel his hardness pressing into my hip, he never acted on it. If I reached down to rub him, he would moan and squirm -- and then move my hand away, saying not yet, not yet. I really didn't know what make of him. I just knew I liked him and respected his integrity. And I loved how I felt with him. I felt free to tell him anything on my mind, knowing he would not judge me.

We spoke of our families, our childhoods, our pasts, what kind of futures we wanted, all with no pressure. He wanted a family; I wasn't sure. I wanted to continue working, to be useful; so did he. He talked a little about his church, and I had to admit it sounded like a great community. I talked enough about my work that he knew to ask about Martina and Ben and my other regulars. He shared my happiness with their victories and my concerns with their lack of progress. And when Ben caught the flu, he understood all the potential outcomes.

Which is how I found myself on his doorstep, ringing the bell and crying, the day Ben died.

Andy

I answered the bell to find Sarah, crying and red-eyed, on my welcome mat. Once inside, she looked so fragile I tentatively touched her shoulder, then wrapped her in a gentle hug. We stood there for several seconds, Sarah shaking as I rocked her tenderly and kissed her hair.

"Ben ... died today," she said in such a low voice that I almost didn't hear her.

"Oh, my dear. I'm so very sorry."

She sniffed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. I broke our embrace and put my arm around her shoulders to guide her into the living room.

"Sit down?" I suggested. "Drink? Tissues? Punching bag?"

She plopped down on the couch almost as if her legs had given way and looked up at me.

"I could use all of those things, but really, I'm just hoping I can lean on you for a little bit."

I sat down next to her, close enough that our thighs touched, and placed one arm around her shoulder once more. She trembled.

"Lean literally? Or figuratively?"

She tried to smile and failed.

"I guess both. But here's the thing: that's all I want. I want to lean against you and hopefully find some comfort, but that's all. I don't want you to seduce me. I don't even want you to talk to me. I just want ... to lean on you and know you're there. Can we do that?"

"Lean away. I'll follow your lead. Nothing will happen that you're not comfortable with. Except maybe the emotions."

She half-smiled and sniffed. "You got that right. This never gets easier."

Trying to anticipate her next move, I shifted a bit, opening my side and shoulder and chest to her. She put her head against my shoulder, then burrowed her own shoulder just under my armpit and reached across my chest with her free hand. My breathing adjusted to hers as she gradually relaxed into me. Five minutes in, I realized it felt exactly like holding a child scared by a bad dream but trusting you to make her world right again.

I couldn't see her face, but her hair smelled of coconut and chlorine and whatever they use to clean floors in a hospital. A smile touched my lips -- not exactly romance novel stuff. But underneath that, I could smell her own scent, a mix of healthy woman and a hint of sweat and maybe a note of vanilla. I wondered idly how women do that -- smell like something a man would want to spend the rest of his life eating, that is -- but most of my mind remained alert to changes in her position.

Her breathing smoothed out even more and I realized she had fallen asleep. I held her close and tried not to move. A few minutes later, she shifted so that she could look at me.

"I hate to lose them," she murmured.

"I know."

"I wish I knew where they go. I feel so bad, thinking that maybe they get lost because they can't think straight anymore."

I stroked her hair and said nothing.

"What do you think? If someone's confused at the end, do they stay that way? Or do we all go to nothingness so it doesn't matter?"

I considered this carefully.

"You told me once you thought religion was a scam, but that's a very religious question."

She snorted lightly.

"I do think organized religion is a scam. But that doesn't mean I don't wonder what happens next."

"We all do."

"Death is life's biggest question," she said.

"That's a good one. It's true. I guess it's also true that none of us know exactly what comes next. Different religions have different ideas."

"Screw religion. What do you think, Andy?"

"In my heart of hearts, I believe there's more. I believe we move on to better things. I refuse to believe that when I die, it will simply be lights out and no more."

As she looked at me, searching my face, I profoundly regretted my choice to deceive her about my calling. I felt like a coward and a cad. In our moment of deepest intimacy so far, I was holding back and I hated myself for it. I wanted desperately to tell her, to share myself completely, but this was not the time.

"Why do you think that?" she asked. "What evidence do you have?"

"No one has evidence, love. The best we can do is have faith. Sometimes I don't even have much of that, but I have enough to give me hope that we matter. That something greater dreamed us up and cares about us. I can't believe this world, teeming with life in all its complexity, just... happened. It's against all laws of probability."

We both lapsed into silence, still holding one another on my old couch. She felt asleep again, more deeply this time. I cuddled her, trying to bear her sadness, wishing I had better answers, aching to tell her the truth.

Sarah

I woke up, suddenly, and my heart raced at not finding myself in my own bed. Andy snored softly somewhere near my shoulder and I grinned, realizing I was still at his place. I wriggled, enjoying the warmth our bodies had generated under the light blanket he must have covered us with at some point. He moved, but lapsed back into sleep, one arm curled protectively around my waist. I remembered Ben and his wife just then, and tears flowed down my face once more. I cried quietly as the feelings flowed through and out of me.

Thoroughly awake now, I analyzed the situation with Andy. We had been dating for three months and had not yet slept together. Definitely a record for Sarah! But it hadn't felt weird to take it slow, it felt natural. Nice, even. Getting to know Andy bit by bit was fun, like a first-run miniseries you make sure to catch every week because it's not yet available to binge-watch. I respected him and the care he put into his job. I liked that he did volunteer work. I definitely appreciated the way he treated me, and every woman he encountered, with a sort of teasing respect, the kind you know comes from a good heart. And what a good heart he had! Earlier tonight, he had been a rock, offering me comfort and letting me sort through my questions and feelings without telling me what to think. I even had come to admire his dedication to his religious faith, which meant I had either lost my mind or was in love.

In love. Was I in love? I considered this. I liked and respected the man, I enjoyed spending time with him, we could talk for hours, and I could see a future with him. I wanted him in my arms, in my body, in my life. And the thought of making little Andrews and Sarahs didn't fill me with the usual dread of losing my easygoing life -- it made me smile.

Sure sounded like love. I poked at him to wake him up. He needed to know this.

"Mmm! What's this I see? A beautiful woman curled up with me?" He smiled and kissed my shoulder.

Ignoring his bad poetry, I plunged right in.

"I've been thinking."

He sat up a little, not sure where I was going with this.

"And?"

"I think I love you."

"You think you love me?" he repeated with the air of someone trying to make sure they had heard correctly.

"Actually, I don't just think I love you, Andy. I do love you."

I twisted around to kiss him.

"Is that OK with you?"

He smiled.

"Absolutely."

"Now will you sleep with me?"

He chuckled.

"Nope."

"Why the hell not?" I asked, exasperated. This man was the limit!

He smiled again.

"I have no intention of letting you sleep. Now, let's go find my bedroom."

He didn't have to tell me twice.

Andy

I'm still not sure what Sarah said, or how I somehow lost all my clothes between the living room and the bedroom. I do remember the two of us giggling and kissing like teenagers as we stumbled down the hall, and the sight of her in just her bra and panties, all lovely and flushed and somehow vulnerable as we sat on the bed, scooting up so my back leaned against the headboard. She eased down onto my lap and my arms automatically circled her, pulling her closer. She kissed me, first gently and then harder. Tasting her sweetness, I smiled slightly against her lips, then echoed her pressure and passion, running my hands over her back, enjoying the affection, the warmth and the excitement building between us. When my own body responded, she reached down and gave me a quick caress. I shuddered, and grabbed her bottom, squeezing and stroking her in return. She moaned.

This is it, I thought. The first page of the best mystery ever written.

"Are you sure?" I murmured, praying she wouldn't say no now.

She pulled her shirt off, said something I didn't quite catch and laughed at my expression.