HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER 7

PENNY

THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ABOVE ALL THINGS, AND DESPERATELY WICKED; WHO CAN KNOW IT? (Jeremiah 17:9)

            “Hey,” my assistant Abby said with a breathless grin as she breezed into the clinic. “Did you have a good weekend?”

            “It was okay,” I replied. “I’m going to guess you had a good weekend.”

            I hadn’t seen Abby this happy in more than a year. Ever since the twenty eight year old’s fiancée ended their relationship the previous autumn, she had been depressed. He did this right after she discovered she was pregnant. I had thought him a creep, but her friendship with Arlo brought to light an interesting twist to the conception of her baby daughter Lindsey.

            She giggled. “Yeah, I had a really nice weekend.”

            “Oh yeah, what’d you do?”

            “Well, Arlo Aldo went to church with me Saturday,” she said breezily.

            I felt myself go rigid. A few nights previously, he and I had talked for a couple hours. I felt like we bonded, and I even told him as we parted that if he wanted to do something this weekend to give me a call. He very cheerfully said okay. But apparently he chose to spend time with my pretty, decade younger assistant. Was I jealous? I think I was, but why?

            “Oh yeah?” I replied, purposely appearing disinterested.

            “Yeah,” she said with more giggles. “Then yesterday he came out with my little rock climbing group. He had never done it before, but he was a natural. All those muscles aren’t just for show.”

            “That’s nice,” I said, leafing through some papers, and pretending to be looking for something as we talked. “So do you have a thing for Arlo?”

            My normally plain Jane redheaded assistant had an air of sexiness about her and looked cute as she crinkled her nose. “I think I do. He’s so handsome and rugged, yet gentle.”

            Oh well, lost at love again… What was I thinking? Lost at love? Arlo and I had one lengthy conversation with occasional, mild flirting.

            “So when are you gonna see him again?”

            “I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. Then her bubbly demeanor dissipated. “Truth is, I think I’m more interested in him than he is me.”

            “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

            “Well, as he put it, the ink isn’t dry on his divorce yet. Plus he treated me more like we’re pals rather than, you know, mutually romantically interested.”

            “I see,” I replied, hopeful that all wasn’t lost with Arlo and me. But then something dawned on me. If Abby and I were secretly and not so secretly competing for the same guy, how would that affect our working relationship? She was the best assistant I ever had. Oh well, I’d cross that bridge later, and hope that it wasn’t rickety.

            Two days later I was invited to a small gathering at our family’s church to listen to some of the songs Eli and Ethan’s band had been practicing. Of which, Arlo played bass. I decided to do something I rarely did and wasn’t very good at. I made myself look girly.

            I didn’t want to overdo it. I didn’t want to be obvious. A little mascara to enhance my big brown eyes and a little lip gloss to sensualize my lips. I had pretty fantastic legs, if I do say so myself, so I dug out one of the two shorter skirts I owned. It was denim, and I forgot how high it was above the knee. I tugged it down, but it didn’t help much. I put brown penny loafers on my feet and wondered if anyone would comment on Penny wearing penny loafers.

            I spotted Arlo’s bass guitar in a stand down in the church basement where the band had been practicing. But I saw no Arlo. Everyone else was there. Then I heard a toilet flush behind me. Then water running in the sink. Then paper towels departing from a dispenser. Then the restroom door flung open, and the happy hulk emerged.

            “Hey, pretty Penny in penny loafers,” he grinned. I couldn’t help grinning back, even though I tried not to. So it took all of three minutes for someone to make a ‘Penny in penny loafers’ comment. I knew I should have worn pumps, or even my old cowboy boots.

             “You clean up nice,” he added.

            This is where I exposed one of my biggest flaws. That was speaking before thinking, rather than thinking before speaking. “Yeah, but do I look as good as Abby up on a rock in spandex athletic pants?”
            His grin grew bigger. “That wasn’t horrible to look at.”

            “You know, to lust after a woman is committing adultery with her already in your heart.”

            “I’m not married anymore, so I no longer have a covenant with my eyes,” he said, quoting Job 31:1.

            “Is that right?”

            “That’s right, so I’m gonna go ahead and admire your surprisingly shapely legs too.”

            “Surprisingly?”

            “Yeah. For a girl that tries to dress like a guy, I would have guessed your legs would be hairy.”

            “I don’t try to dress like a guy. I just don’t put a whole lot of effort into being feminine.”

            “Well you should. You’re lovely to behold when you do.”

            I snorted a laugh. “You call this effort? You should see me in me my blonde wig, leather skirt, and black stockings with heels.”

            “Okay,” he said eagerly.

            “Too bad, I hate heels.”

            “Hence the penny loafers,” he said, and then frowned. “Do you really have a blonde wig?”

            “I do. But it was given to me as a joke. I’ve only worn it once. Why do you prefer blondes? I don’t know that you’re even a gentleman.”

            “Actually I don’t, but you in a blonde wig would be a curious sight. You in a leather skirt and stockings would be an even curiouser site.”

            “I don’t think curiouser is a word. Besides, it’s character that counts, not appearance,” I declared, and then felt a wave of hypocrisy as the marriage I wrecked flashed into my mind.

            “Very true,” he agreed. “And to be honest, as a fairly new Christian, and a brand new single man, I’m still figuring out the boundaries of appropriateness when it comes to admiring attractive females, and admiration crossing over into lust.”

            There were around forty or fifty people milling about. Eli interrupted numerous conversations as he directed the band to assemble and begin play. They were fantastic!

            Afterward, Arlo and I went to an old fashion café. He had a piece of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. I had a strawberry shake. With my penny loafers and white ankle socks passing as bobby socks, it seemed like we were on a fifties style date. Was it date? I certainly felt like a teeny bopper when I couldn’t help asking, “So, do you like Abby?”

            He shrugged. “She’s a nice girl.”

            “I know she has a major crush on you.”

            He stopped a fork full of pie halfway to his mouth. With raised eyebrows he replied, “She does?”

            “Can’t you tell?”

            “Well, I mean, we do get along pretty good. And she’s nice looking. But I’ve only been divorced for about two minutes, so I’m not ready for a relationship.”

            I felt both relieved as well as disappointed. Did I want a relationship? A relationship with Arlo Aldo? I do know I wanted to go to bed with him. But would he be willing? I wasn’t a committed Christian back then. When I went out on a date, which was becoming more and more infrequent, it was usually with someone I already knew. Therefore, we usually ended up in bed. But Arlo seemed to take his faith very seriously. If he kept what he referred to as the Biblical Sabbath, I highly doubted that he would be willing to fornicate.

            Arlo continued about Abby. “Besides, as you know, she has some issues. And I have enough of my own right now.”

            “By issues, do you mean her daughter Lindsey? I know with her family belonging to a conservative church and all, it was difficult for her to have a child out of wedlock.”

            “Actually, her family was pretty cool. It’s the guilt she still feels over her fiancée.”

            “Guilt over her fiancée? Don’t be ridiculous! After four years together, he knocks her up and then immediately dumps her just weeks before their wedding.”

            “He’s not the father,” Arlo blurted, and then his eyes got wide, and he put delicate fingers to his lips. I would have giggled at the sight if the subject matter wasn’t so serious.

            I felt an electric chill throughout my entire body that somebody with Abby’s character would cheat on her fiancée. Then I felt hurt that she had apparently confided in Arlo, but not in me. Abby had only worked for me not quite two years, but I felt like we were pretty close friends.

            “So Abby told you this?”

            “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I met her former fiancée’s brother at her church. I think he thought Abby and I were an item. He took me aside and warned me that she was a cheater. He also said her former fiancée let everyone think he was the deadbeat to save her from disgrace. He said he also left town due to his own undeserved disgrace.”

            “I don’t believe it!” I said. “Sweet little, God fearing Abby not only cheated, but let the betrayed take the fall.”

            “Please keep this between you and me,” Arlo said. His eyes looked somewhat panicked. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell, but I let slip figuring you already knew. Trust me, I can tell by things she’s told me that she plans to set the record straight. She told me she had been backslidden for years and had things she needed to own up to. I’m betting what I just told you is part of it.”

            “I’ll keep it to myself, I promise.”

            “I hope this doesn’t make you think less of her. I believe she’s repentant. I think she’s just seeking God’s grace and working up the courage to come clean.”

            “I have my own skeletons, Arlo. What you just told me only makes me feel for her.”

            We drove separately, and out in the parking lot, grinning, he stuck out his hand to shake. I opened my arms and said, “I think we can do better than that.”

            As we broke away from the hug, I went on tip toes and made to kiss his cheek. Only I missed on purpose and kissed half of his mouth. I could tell it took him by surprise, and he made a joke of it, saying, “Mmm, strawberry.”

            Aiming wide innocent looking eyes that weren’t so innocent, I invited. “If you like the taste, have some more.”

            “Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, and lowered his face to mine.