A Groom Worth Waiting For. Crystal Stovall
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couldn’t push past him, she did lean forward enough to see around him. She gasped. The convenience store looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Smashed bottles of soda, ketchup and pickles, as well as every other kind of food that came in a glass jar, speckled the beige tile floor. The white shelves and refrigerated units sat empty and exposed, their contents heaped in careless piles.
“Wow,” Amy said, realizing that the situation had been more volatile and dangerous than she’d imagined.
With her hand covering her mouth, she thanked God for sending Matt to save her. If Matt hadn’t been at her side… She couldn’t finish the thought. And she couldn’t tell him she wouldn’t be his date. She owed this man so much more than a few hours at a family wedding. This was a small price to pay for saving her life.
Having seen enough, Amy took a few steps backward. Matt quickly retrieved two chairs from the end of the room that served as an office area for the convenience store manager.
“Can I get you a glass of water or a soda?” he asked.
Amy shook her head, amazed he could remember to be so polite at a time like this. Then she noticed his nervous hands. As if it were beyond his means to control, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched the hands that had held her tightly. She understood then that his desire to attend to her needs was merely a way of covering his own distress.
“I guess we’re both still in shock,” Amy said.
Matt nodded. “Everything is just now sinking in.”
They lapsed into silence, neither able to put into words the intense feelings that surged through their hearts and minds.
Feeling too vulnerable to look at Matt, Amy focused on her trembling hands. Even pressed against her abdomen, they shook. Then his hands covered hers, bringing with them a warmth that made her feel safe.
Amy wasn’t certain how long they sat with their hands entwined. She just knew she wasn’t ready to let go of this stranger. She wanted to know more about this man who’d unselfishly helped her. Was he from Lexington? What did he do for a living? Had he ever suffered from a broken heart?
When the police officer cleared his throat, Amy glanced quickly at Matt, then suddenly felt foolish for the way she clung to him. Gently pushing his hands away, she concentrated on recreating the sequence of events in her mind.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” the officer suggested.
“I got here first, and I was the only one in the store besides the clerk. I picked up a newspaper and then made a cappuccino.” Amy’s voice quivered until she noticed the amusement in Matt’s eyes.
“And for the record,” she said, “it was the worst cappuccino I’ve ever tasted.” She ignored the officer’s impatient glare. The lighthearted comment relaxed her enough to continue. “The door buzzer sounded again, and that’s when Matt walked in.”
Matt picked the story up from there. “I said hello to Hank, and then I hurried to the back of the store to get a bagel and a cup of coffee to go. I’d promised to stop by Aunt Lila’s, and I was already running late. I said something to Amy about the cappuccino. I remember she had her back to the door when the buzzer sounded. By chance, I happened to look up and see the two men enter, and for some reason, I had this feeling something bad was going to happen. Because we were in the back near a stack of oil cases, they didn’t spot us. As soon as the man with the beard pulled the gun on Hank, I grabbed Amy and shoved her into the closet. One of the men made a quick check of the storeroom, but because the closet door is made from the same paneling as the walls, he overlooked the closet. From that point on, we didn’t see anything. We heard plenty of unidentifiable noises and shouting. But we didn’t move.”
“Is there anything you’d like to add to this story?”
“I wish I could have done more to help Hank. But I was afraid that if I entered the store I’d only put him in more danger, and I didn’t want to leave Amy.”
Amy shook her head. While Matt had supplied all the facts, he’d left the heart of the story untold. There was the way he’d held her tightly. The way his moist breath had crawled down her neck. The way his heartbeat had filled the tiny, square closet and had turned the cramped space into a safe refuge. And even more important were the roller-coaster emotions that still traveled on invisible tracks between them.
Turning toward Amy, the officer said, “I need an address and telephone number where I can reach you.”
Amy bit her lip as she was painfully reminded that she was temporarily without a home or a job. Inhaling deeply, she said, “I’ve just arrived in Lexington…this morning…and I don’t have a permanent address yet. But I’m planning to stay at the hotel near the airport until I can find a place. I’m headed over there to check in as soon as we’re finished,” she promised.
“Do you have a work number?”
“I thought I had a job and an apartment, but they both fell through this morning. But that’s another story,” she said, hoping to conceal the embarrassing state of her personal life.
The concerned expression on Matt’s face bothered her. It was almost as if she could see another hare-brained idea percolating in his deep blue eyes. She may have needed his help during the robbery, but only she could put her life back together. No one could help her find her place in the world again or rebuild her relationship with God.
Turning toward Matt, the officer wrote down an address as well as home and work telephone numbers that meant little to Amy. But in another week or so—if she stayed—she’d know her way around Lexington.
Thinking they were free to go, Amy walked into the convenience store, only to come face to face with a crowd of media reporters. With microphones thrust in front of their mouths and bright lights glaring in their eyes, Matt and Amy once again recounted their story. And when Matt got to the part of the story where they were huddled in the storeroom closet, he paused to look at Amy for just a second. It was a moment the reporters missed but a moment Amy would always remember. She had shared something extraordinary with this man that she would never forget. In those closet moments, they’d lived in an unreal world where their fears and hopes had meshed into one.
But this was the real world, Amy told herself. Matt Wynn was a stranger and a man. And she’d learned the hard way that if you trusted a man he would eventually break your heart.
When the media prolonged the interview, Matt gripped Amy’s arms and with a move that caught both the media and Amy off guard, he guided her through the store, out the door and into his car.
After locking the doors, Matt quickly left the parking lot and headed down the highway.
“Now, why did you do that?” Amy demanded.
“I was doing us both a favor,” Matt said. “The media wanted to make a lot more out of this story than there was.”
“You’re talking about the way they focused on us being in the closet together for over an hour.”
“Exactly. They’ll make a mountain out of a molehill.” Matt concentrated on the road, which was still wet, though at least the fog had lifted and the rain had stopped.
“And nothing happened in the closet,” Amy said, wanting to be very clear on this point.
“No, nothing happened. Well, we can’t exactly say that. We shared a very unique experience, but that was all.”
Amy looked out the window. He’d said precisely what she’d wanted to hear, and yet his declaration left her disappointed.
Turning toward him, she asked, “Then why am I in the car with you, and where are you taking me?”
“To Aunt Lila’s,” he said as if his response should make perfect sense.
“To Aunt Lila’s?” she echoed.
“Like I told the police officer, I was on my way to see Aunt Lila before we were detained at the convenience store.