“No, it’s not. That spring I encountered Christ in a way that made me feel… full… Like, His love was so fulfilling—so completely sufficient—I stopped feeling as if I needed attention or a false perception of love from anyone else.”
“That’s amazing, Gin.” Georgia wiped moisture from her eye. “I’ve loved seeing you mature and grow over the past few years. We’ve all noticed it, ya know? You’re an incredible, Christ-centered woman, Ginny.”
“Thanks, Georgia.” Ginny flitted her eyes, holding back tears.
Georgia leaned over the table. “But where does Ryan fit into all of this? When did you get the actualhotsfor him?”
Ginny rolled her eyes, all semblance of tears gone, and released an astonished laugh. Her sister had a one track mind.
“That next summer. Before I went to school. We’d spent a lot of time together, with you guys of course, and he’s always so fun and up for whatever you and Blaire put him through. He’s a great friend, ya know? He never seemed to mind me around… and he made me feel like I was one of you.”
“You are.”
“You know what I mean. It was always you three, and sometimes Caroline, but… one day I was waiting for worship to start at service and Ryan was leading for the first time. He stood on stage and was so bold and confident. Not at all the goofy friend to Blaire and Georgia.” Ginny smiled just remembering how he’d looked that day. Like a completely different person to the guy she’d watched grow up. “He spoke about worship and focusing on how Jesus has already done the best thing He possibly could for us, dying on the cross. That He alone is worthy of praise.”
She paused, not quite believing how much she was revealing to her big sister. “Georgia, when he closed his eyes and lifted his voice it was as if all of a sudden… Ryan was just a man… in my eyes. He wasn’t your best friend or the guy who spent half his time crushing on Caroline or wearin’ footy pajamas every time you guys had a movie night or nudging your baby sister’s shoulder to make her feel like she was in on one of your inside jokes. He was a man so in love with Jesus it shone through every facet of his face. I was just… entranced.”
“You fell in love with his heart.”
Ginny wished she felt more bashful, but loved the honesty in how those words sounded. She sighed. “Yeah. I did.”
Georgia took her hand in hers, resting them on the table. “He’s yourLaurie.”
Ginny whipped her hand away, groaning. “I just knew you were going to turn this into aLittle Womenthing! He isnotmyLaurie.”
“He is, Gin. And you are the grown, sophisticatedAmyhe hasn’t let himself see yet.”
“Oh, he sees me. He just won’t admit it.”
Georgia agreed. “Yeah, he does. I’ve noticed it too, ya know. He’s always peacocking around every time a guy looks in your direction.”
“Peacocking?”
“Yeah.” Georgia smirked and sipped from her coffee mug. “He gets all territorial and stands a little taller, strutting around, wavin’ hisI’m secretly SOOOO into herfeathers. Peacocking.”
“Hmmmm,” Ginny hummed. “Peacocking, yet he’s totally contradictory when he’s forced to have a one-on-one conversation with me.”
“Give it time, Ginny. Ryan doesn’t stand a chance. Not against you.”
Ginny shook her head with exasperation and slipped her finger across the tantalizing hollandaise, popping it in her mouth. “You’re such aMeg…”
“I totally am.” Georgia bit her lip and nodded her head so rapidly, her curls fell loose from the top knot they’d been tied in. “I’m a happily married, contentedMeg,and I’m gonna help you get yourLaurie.”
“Please don’t.”
“It’s done, Baby Girl—I mean, Virginia.” She grabbed Ginny’s hand again and grew serious. “And Gin?”
“Hm?” Ginny hummed.
“I’m so proud of the woman that you have become. The woman you are today. You may notneedRyan’s love, but he’d be so very lucky to have yours.”
“Thanks, Georgie.”
Her sister picked their hands up off the table, kissed Ginny’s with a dramatic flair, and dropped them like a stack of books.“Now, let’s talk about what song you could sing at karaoke night to make Ryan lose his mind just a little bit.”
“You’ve gotta make sure you’re blockin’ Ginny the whole time!” Ryan yelled, after blowing his whistle for the hundredth time that night.
Mr. Woodhouse put his shaky hands in the air. “Son, I’m seventy-five years old. I’m lucky I’m standing upright, much less guarding a young woman from approachin’ defense.”
