Though rigid in my arms, Lucy finally relents and closes the last few inches between us. Just like that, I’m wrapped in her essence. She smells of cottonwood and tea tree and summer rain. My long fingers stretch across her back as I hold her against me, her soft curves conforming to my sharp angles.
Is this legal in the house of the Lord?
“It’s good to see you,” I whisper shakily in her ear. My heart is beating erratically at this contact.Attans,this woman has already done a number on me.
“You smell nice. Like a winter forest,” she says after a deep inhale.
I laugh, wondering why I was ever concerned that the woman didn’t have a good time. She’s just nervous about affection; I picked up on that Friday night. I’ll be extra careful in the future to make sure she’s open to my touches and hugs.
Hopefully.
I like physical touch.
A lot.
“You smell like spring, Lucy.”
She stiffens again, then rips herself from my arms. She’s going to give herself whiplash if she keeps snapping her head between me and her sister. “We can talk later! Time for class!”
Dragging Lorelei behind her, she darts off towards her classroom. I’m left alone in the hall.
Almostalone.
Mrs. Netty still stands in the corner by the coffeepot, staring at me with pursed lips and narrowed, wrinkling eyes.
I shrug and smile, trying to act as casual as possible, but I might get whiplash, too, if Lucy keeps this hot and cold act up.
Mrs. Netty meets me at the head of the short hallway that leads to the different class. She places her wrinkled hand on my shoulder once more. “Well, Finley. I might have been wrong. You might not be Lucy’s type, but from where I stood, it sure looked like you are Lorelei’s type.”
“Excuse me?” I tilt my head at the woman, who only clicks her tongue. She drops her hand.
“Just a word of advice, son. Make sure you court the right twin.” She hobbles off, and I’m left contemplating her cryptic words.
Hadley would have told me if Lorelei was a better fit, right? But she set me up with Lucy.
I have to trust her, and I have to trust my gut.
Lucy Spence felt like home in my arms, and regardless of Lorelei being her twin, there is no way she could replicate that feeling.
After Sunday School, which was a riveting discussion surrounding creationism and the fall of mankind, we are ushered into the small sanctuary. The moss green carpet matches the material on the pews perfectly, and though you can tell it’s old, it’s clean and inviting. Scanning the room of mostly elderly people with a handful of young adults, mostly Hadley and Braxton’s crowd, I spot Lucy and Lorelei sitting next to their grandmother. The twins notice me and begin fidgeting in a similar way until Mrs. Netty whacks Lucy’s leg with her Bible and motions for Lorelei to scootdown. They exhale dramatically, again, at the same time, but do as they are instructed.
The entire time, I haven’t moved from my post leaning against the corner wall where I now appreciate the womens’ similarities while amusement at their close relationship with their grandmother plays at the edges of my thoughts.
Plucking myself from my wallflower position as Mason passes by, I follow him across the front and then down the aisle a few rows until I arrive at the row with my Lucy. Mason slides into the row behind me where Karoline, Hadley, and Braxton sit. Behind them is Braxton’s brother, Michael, and his wife, Brandi, whom I’ve gotten to know briefly while they work on Mason’s house. I wave hello to everyone, specifically to Braxton, Hadley, Michael, and Brandi, who must have just come for the service this morning, and then I sit in the empty spot between the twins.
“How was your class?” I ask Lucy. When she doesn’t immediately answer, but instead looks past me to her sister, I add, “We discussed how creationism can be proven scientifically and from a Biblical perspective due to the fact that the earth can’t possibly be millions of years old because, if you’re a Christian and believe scripture, then an old earth wouldn’t be comprehensible. Sin would have had to enter the earthbeforethe fall in order for us to have the evidence of disease from fossils that we have. That moves the timeline of creation up by millions of years.”
By the end of my statement, I have gathered Lucy’s complete attention. That spark of knowledge pursuit gleams in her hazel-blue eyes. “Fascinating,” she comments. “I would like to explore that more. I’ve never thought of creationism from that perspective. Wediscussed how to use our emotions for the glory of Christ, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know what emotions I’m experiencing half the time. I should have gone into your class today.” She chuckles, and I smile, but on the inside, I’m realizing Lucy is more black and white than I once thought. I caught the feeling on our date, but with her outwardly saying that, it makes sense.
“That’s why you journal and write so much, right, Lucy?” Her twin asks, looking around me. Lucy grimaces for a fraction of second then adheres a plastic smile to her face. She nods swiftly in agreement before looking away from both of us and focusing on the front of the room where Pastor Rawls approaches the small wooden podium with a cross etched into the front of it.
Is she embarrassed or ashamed that she’s not that in touch with her emotions? It’s perfectly normal. Not every human can be an overly anxious, sensitive worry wart like I am. In fact, I don’t want her to be that way. We would be a disaster. I’ve dated that type before; we do not blend well despite what people would assume.
I lean over to whisper in Lucy’s ear just as the pastor begins to welcome everyone. “I think you’re quite perfect. Emotions suck, anyway.”
The smile on her face pulls higher for a millisecond before she trains it back to plastic. I take it as a win and open my palm towards her. She cocks her head, and I raise an eyebrow.
It’s yours if you want it, baby girl.
