The Wedding Caper

by Janice Thompson

  Why, in no time I would be in tip-top shape. I would chase suspects down back alleys, if that was what the Lord had in mind. And I’d catch ‘em too.

  Chapter Six

  I like to call them “Sheila-ism’s”—the funny, off-beat things that slip out of my friend Shelia’s mouth when you least expect them.

  Like the time I complained about the appearance of a few wrinkles and she came back with, “I prefer to think of my body as a dried-up raisin—age has just condensed its sweetness.” Or the time I chided her for not offering adequate support when a dispute with a mutual friend turned ugly and she retorted, “What do I look like, an underwire bra?”

  When in doubt, I reach for a Shelia-ism. And I awoke on Tuesday morning in dire need of one. For one thing, my eyelids appeared to be the only thing working on my anatomy. For whatever reason, my back felt cemented to the mattress. And when I finally managed to sit up—truly one of the most painful feats ever accomplished by mankind—it took at least a minute or two to ease my legs over the edge of the bed.

  With little else to do but sit there, I forced my mind to race backwards through time in an attempt to figure out why my body had chosen to fail me. It took a while to figure out what had happened.

  Ah, yes. The gym. Ten minutes on the elliptical machine. Ten on the treadmill. Ten on the bike. Five on the Stairmaster. (How anyone in the world could handle more than that was beyond me.) From there, with Fitness Rep Joey’s help, of course, I’d hit the weight-bearing machines, making the rounds to every single one.

  Was it any wonder I could barely move this morning? I might never move again.

  I crawled from the bed to the tub. Just leaning over to turn on the hot water proved excruciating. Surely, after a long soak, all would be well.

  I let out a cry as I eased my body down into the water. Sasha put her front paws on the edge of the tub and gazed over in sorrow, as if sensing my pain.

  On the other hand, she might be experiencing a little pain of her own. Horror set in as I realized I had forgotten to let her out to do her morning business.

  “Hold it as long as you can, little girl,” I encouraged. “I’ll try to hurry.”

  Yeah, right. I leaned back against the bath pillow and closed my eyes. I tried to use the opportunity to pray, to seek the Almighty for His will concerning all of this. I found it difficult to focus, though I gave it a valiant effort.

  Yesterday’s scripture verse played back through my memory a thousand times over: “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

  The Lord, who usually spoke to me in gentle whispers, appeared to be shouting in my ears this morning. Okay, so I had to admit, the verse had little to do with my weight. It had everything to do with my ego. I needed to let go, give the Lord full control of every area of my life. I had become entirely too self-sufficient, and that needed to change. Immediately, if not sooner.

  My throat tightened—a warning sign that tears would soon follow. Why fight it? While the Lord “had” me, I might as well let Him deal with me.

  And obviously He had a lot to deal with. As He began to point out problem areas, the lump in my throat grew until I could barely swallow. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, ambition had become my friend. Somewhere along the way, the insatiable desire to prove something to myself and others had taken precedence.

  Had I really been chasing around after some sort of illusive dream, all in the hopes of freeing my husband from guilt? Why couldn’t I just take Warren at his word? Had he ever given me reason to doubt him in the past?

  A lone tear trickled down my cheek. I would’ve brushed it away, if my arms and fingers had cooperated. Instead, it plopped down into the soapy water, making itself at home. I lingered for a while against the edge of the tub and took the time to truly repent for my silliness over the past few days. I thought of Warren and the great sacrifice on his part to make sure we had the funds for the weddings. Common sense told me he must’ve cashed in an IRA to come up with that money. Doing so must have broken his “We won’t touch this until our retirement” vow. And all for the love of family.

  My heart swelled with overwhelming love for the man. Yes, he had surely proven himself trustworthy, and I’d been childish to doubt his actions or his intent. From now on, I would return to being his helper, his lover, his friend. I would cease to be his judge and jury.

  Even if it meant I never found the actual perpetrator. Even if the crime went unsolved forever. I would follow the Lord’s leading and only go where He wanted me to go. The words rushed out in a heartfelt prayer:

  “Lord, You’ve got my full attention this morning. I am sorry for taking the reins away from You. Again. I ask You to forgive me for running out ahead of You. Help me, Father. I want to do the right thing. If You want to use me in this, then I want to be useable. If it’s not of You, then take the desire away. And Father, if You want to use me in some other way entirely, show me. I’m Yours, Lord. . . .”

  The presence of the Lord suddenly shook me to my core. I somehow knew that He wanted me to do something, something specific. With fresh tears running down my cheeks, I responded. “Yes, Lord. I’ll do that.”

  As soon as I can get out of the tub. I had apparently been sitting so long the water had turned cold. And if I thought getting in had been tough, I had made no psychological preparations for getting out. The process took a good ten minutes, if you counted the toweling off part. And all the while, Sasha whimpered in agony.

  Finally dry—and nearly standing aright—I slipped on my robe and inched my way down the stairs and toward the back door. I had no sooner opened it than the frustrated puppy bounded out and located a spot to relieve herself. I filled her dog dish with a can of Macho Mutt—her favorite—and went about the task of preparing breakfast. With Warren and Devin already gone after tending to their own breakfast, I settled on a piece of toast and a cup of hot tea. Earl Grey, of course.

  My knees didn’t seem to want to bend, so I opted to stand while I ate. The pain in my back eventually forced me to lean against the countertop. I somehow managed to nibble the toast and sip the tea. Out of the corner of my eye, something grabbed my attention. There. Up on the bar. The newspaper.

  I reached for the Clark County Gazette and nearly dropped my teeth as I read the headline: BURGLARY SUSPECT FREED

  The story focused on Jake Mullins, describing in some detail his release from jail after several rounds of questioning. Though the police still felt they “had their man” they simply couldn’t provide adequate evidence to support their suspicions.

  I whispered a “Thank You, Lord!” for Janetta’s sake, though my heart twisted a little. With Jakey temporarily out of the picture, I couldn’t help but wonder. . . .

  No. Don’t do this today. You’ve got your marching orders. Use ‘em.

  I pressed the paper aside and headed to the bedroom to begin the very tedious process of dressing. Though usually quite selective about my attire, I decided this wasn’t the day to fret over the trimmings. Forget the jewelry. Limit the makeup. Wear the comfortable gray slacks and black turtle-neck.

  In short, stop worrying about what people will think. Just be yourself.

  With a song of praise on my lips, I eased my way out to the car. After a brief stop at the new gift store on Wabash, I pulled the car out onto the highway, and pointed it toward Philadelphia.

  Yes, the Lord would surely guide my every step today.

  By the time I reached the parking lot of Mercy Hospital, my nerves were once again an issue. I quickly settled them with a bit of prayer: Lord, I know You’ve sent me here. Show me how best to honor You and to reflect Your love. May I truly decrease, Father, so that Your heart can shine through.

  Now, I’m not one for hospitals. Never have been. The creepy feeling that runs over me every time I visit a patient probably dates back to an episode as a youngster where I fainted at the foot of my grandmother’s hospital bed. Something about the smell, perhaps. Still, the Lord had given me a sense of direction for to
day’s visit. Surely He would see me through this.

  I paused at the front desk to ask for the room number in question. East Wing 146. Then, with a Lord, help me on my lips—and the tiny gift in my hand—I wound through the halls, following the signs, the backs of my calves aching every inch of the way.

  When I rapped on the door of room 146 a gentle voice from inside beckoned me to enter.

  I found Judy Blevins in far worse shape than I had imagined. If I’d taken the time to visit her even once over the past few weeks, I would been better prepared. She sat, completely alone in the stillness of this barren room, to face the ongoing treatments for pancreatic cancer.

  “Annie.” Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke my name, and her extended hand reached for mine.

  I placed the tiny gift box on the table, then sat at her bedside and gripped her willing fingers. “Judy, how are you feeling?”

  She drew in a deep breath before answering. “I’m blessed, Annie. Blessed by The Best.”

  The same answer you’ve given for years. But how are you, really? “You’ve been in my prayers and the Lord specifically laid you on my heart today.” I mustered up a smile.

  “Did He?” Her eyes filled once more and I found mine brimming, as well. “Well maybe there’s a reason for that.” She went on to explain the results of her latest round of tests. None of them good. As she shared the news, I couldn’t help but notice the confidence in her voice, the calm. She closed with simple words, but they shook me to the core. “You know, I’m ready to go, Annie. If the Lord chooses to take me, I can live with that.”

  I had to look twice into her twinkling eyes to catch the attempted pun. “Oh, honey—”

  “I’m not afraid.” She whispered the words, almost like a prayer.

  Lord, what do I say? “I’m so proud of you, Judy. And I’m going to keep praying. We all are.”

  “I appreciate that. But please—” Her eyes lit up at this point, “Let’s talk about something else. Something fun. Tell me all about the girls, the weddings.”

  Ah. Thank You for the diversion. I dove into some of the more humorous details concerning Brandi’s plans. I told Judy about our meeting with the in-laws, and I laughed as I slipped into Southern gear once again. You can take a girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.

  Judy laughed too. In fact, she laughed so hard, she set off her heart monitor and a nurse entered the room in a bit of a panic. Judy assured her all was well, and we were left alone to our own devices once again.

  I would have forgotten to give her the tiny gift box altogether if I hadn’t noticed it out of the corner of my eye. I offered it to her with great joy, hoping she liked what she found inside.

  Sure enough, she “oohed” and “aahed” as her gaze fell on the tiny glass ballerina. She clutched the little figurine to her chest and whispered the words, “I don’t believe it!” several times over.

  “What?”

  Her eyes moistened as she spoke. “I’m sure it’s going to sound so childish, but I always wanted to take dance lessons as a little girl and my parents could never afford it.” A dreamy look took over. “I used to do these silly moves all around the living room like little girls do, pretending I was on a big stage. I’d forgotten all about it until recently.”

  I fought to hold back the emotion as she continued on.

  “See, about three weeks ago I started telling the Lord I wanted to dance. The desire just—returned. And—” here her voice broke, “He told me I could. Very soon.”

  I wanted to say something, but couldn’t. The presence of God washed over me afresh and tears filled my eyes. The oddest conglomeration of joy and sorrow came in waves and kept me in utter silence for quite some time.

  Judy didn’t seem to notice. She continued to run her finger across the delicate ballerina, a look of sheer delight on her face. She eventually placed the tiny glass dancer on the bedside table, and we dove back into conversation. However, I couldn’t help but notice she paused every few minutes to give it another happy glance. Funny, how such a little thing could mean so much. And funnier still that the Lord would have spoken so clearly to my heart to purchase that particular item.

  We chatted at length about things at the church. She didn’t mention anything about Richard’s resignation from the Sunday school class, so I didn’t bring it up. In fact, the tone of our conversation made me wonder if she knew at all. Before long, she shifted gears, and I realized she knew more than she’d previously expressed.

  “I’ve been following the news—about the $25,000.” Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the bed railing.

  “Oh?” My heart rate increased a bit.

  She nodded and sighed. “Richard told me that Sergeant O’Henry had been around to question him. What about Warren?”

  I nodded. “Yes. They talked with him, too. A couple of times.”

  “It’s all so strange.” Her brow wrinkled as she continued on. “But I’ve got to believe there’s been some kind of mistake. How do we even know the deposit was made?”

  “I don’t know.” Truthfully, that thought had entered my mind, too. Maybe Janetta’s daughter had pocketed the money and. . .

  Aw, who was I kidding? That scenario didn’t make any sense.

  On the other hand, none of the scenarios in my head made a lot of sense.

  Judy and I shifted gears, diving into a chat about Sheila, and reminiscing about old times together when we’d worked on the “Get Out to Vote” rally. All of our stories were positive and upbeat. As we finished our time together, I reflected on three things.

  First, Judy Blevins, weak as she was, was in “tip-top” shape spiritually. She might not be up to crime fighting, but she certainly understood what it meant to fight for the things that mattered. And, I dare say, she could chase the enemy of her soul down a back alley and snag him in a heartbeat.

  Second, I wanted—and needed—a fresh reminder of the things that were important, truly important. And I wanted a heart that yearned to dance with my heavenly Father.

  Third, my desire to mark Richard Blevins as the perpetrator of this particular crime flew right out the window the minute I looked headlong into his situation. No wonder he’d been so evasive. With so much going on, his desire to “slip away” was certainly understandable. Surely he just needed more time with his wife, while he had the opportunity. Yes, all the dear man needed from me was my prayers and a kind word in passing.

  And perhaps all Judy needed. . . I glanced at the bed once again and observed—with my www.investigativeskills.com eyes—the peaceful expression on her face.

  Maybe all she needed was a loving embrace.

  I reached down to kiss her on both cheeks before leaving and whispered a quiet, “Thank you” in her ear.

  She never asked what I thanked her for. Somehow I think she just knew.

  I drove home with the radio off and tears spilling every which way. Though I couldn’t quite explain it—even to myself—I felt like a woman transformed. Yes, my body still ached. And yes, my upper arms still jiggled. But suddenly none of that mattered anymore. Right now, the important things—my relationship with my Daddy God, my marriage and my children—flew like red flags before me. I made a conscious decision to address them all.

  That night I cooked a delightful dinner for Warren. I cut back a little on the portions and opted to grill the meat instead of fry it. After the meal we settled onto the couch with our slightly-smaller-than-usual bowls of Moo-lenium Crunch Ice Cream. Once finished, I eased into Warren’s arms and nuzzled against him as we watched a television show together.

  Afterwards, though still a bit stiff and sore, I slipped off into the bedroom and donned my favorite baby blue satin nightgown. Warren entered the room, took one look at me, and approached with the corners of his lips curled up.

  “Annie, you look. . . amazing.”

  Apparently he didn’t notice the cellulite on my thighs, the protruding tummy or the patriotic waving of my upper ar
ms. His eyes locked into mine and I knew he only saw me as his beautiful bride once more. Warren swept me into his arms and kissed me as if we were newlyweds all over again. I couldn’t help but lean my head against his and sigh.

  For whatever reason, my thoughts gravitated to Judy and her desire to dance. The same sensation washed over me, even now.

  “I’ve missed you these past few days,” Warren whispered.

  I knew what he meant. I hadn’t been myself. Not even close. But I would remedy that right away. “I’m here now,” I whispered.

  He responded by wrapping me in his embrace. I rejoiced, not just in his presence, but in the overwhelming realization that the Lord had joined us in the room.

  Immediately, my heart began to dance. And in that moment I understood what it meant to be in tip-top shape.

  Chapter Seven

  My next days were filled with back and forth trips to the gym and a gradual lessening of pain from my now less-strenuous workouts. A tremendous excitement on the home front escalated as the girls came and went with wedding paraphernalia in their hands. Brandi arrived with swatches of deep red fabric and patterns to ask my opinion about bridesmaids’ attire. Candy came with a magazine photo of a lovely three-tiered wedding cake adorned with springtime flowers. Nadine, still in town on an extended visit, joined us for lunch one day. Together, we listened to love songs and practiced making centerpieces. In short, we had the time of our lives.

  In between their visits, I managed to squeeze in a few hours of work. My editing clients had been more than patient with me over the past week or so, and I owed it to them to get caught up on their various projects. With the zeal of a young warrior, I raced through their manuscripts, polishing and perfecting.

  By Friday morning, I found myself back on track. A bathtub full of bubbles proved to be the perfect prayer closet. Mental note: From this point on, purchase bath products with prayer time in mind. Some scents are far more heavenly than others.

  While soaking, I sought the Lord for His will concerning my day—and a swift resolution to the situation at the bank. After relinquishing my need to “fix” the situation, I rested much easier. In fact, His peace enveloped me as I leaned back and closed my eyes.