Any Dream Will Do

by Debbie Macomber

  Right away Shay reached for a coffee mug and brought it over along with a fresh pot of the brew.

  “Special today is shepherd’s pie,” she said.

  “Sounds good,” I said, not bothering to look at the menu. Bottom line, I wasn’t all that hungry or interested in lunch. The reason I was there was to talk to Shay.

  She put in my order and it was up within a few minutes. When she set it before me, I asked, “Do you have five minutes to chat?”

  Shay glanced at the counter with every stool filled and reluctantly shook her head. I read the regret in her eyes.

  “Sorry, not really.”

  I should have known better than to come at the busiest time of the day. I’d hoped she could take her break so I could explain in more than a few words.

  “If you like, I could stop by your office after work.”

  I mentally reviewed my afternoon schedule and realized I had meetings the rest of the day. “That won’t work, either. It’s about Friday…”

  We were interrupted when another server told Shay she had an order up. She reluctantly left me to deliver the plate to the guy at the other end of the counter. Needing an excuse to return, she came back and refreshed my coffee. “What about Friday?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.”

  Her eyes immediately flew up to meet mine. She seemed to forget what she was doing and overfilled my coffee mug, spilling the dark liquid all across the counter. Right away she set the coffeepot aside and reached for a rag to clean up the mess.

  “I’m sorry, Shay.” She had no idea how sorry.

  She shrugged as if it was nothing. “No, it’s fine. Not a problem. Really.”

  “I have a sick friend.” That sounded incredibly lame and I immediately regretted explaining it that way. It sounded as if I’d told the teacher the dog ate my homework. Rushing to explain, I said, “Joe lives in Spokane and I need to make a one-day trip out of it and—”

  Shay set her hand on my forearm. “It’s fine, Drew. It’s not a big deal; we’ll make it another time.”

  The shepherd’s pie might have been an award-winning recipe, but it tasted like burned rubber to me. Although Shay made a gallant effort to hide it, I could see she was disappointed. Her reaction gave me pause. My fear was that she’d put more stock into my asking her out than warranted. I felt like rubbing my hand down my face. I didn’t know what I was doing. I liked Shay and being with her made me feel lighthearted and happy.

  Lighthearted. That made me sound old. It was a word Joe would have used.

  Joe. My heart sank at the thought of letting him go.

  While Joe had asked to see me, I was the one who was grateful for the opportunity to talk to my friend. I needed his advice and welcomed the chance to bare my soul.

  Shay remained busy, working the counter. Once I was served, she set the tab by my plate and basically ignored me the rest of the meal. I wasn’t given a chance to talk to her again. With time running short, I was forced to leave soon afterward. Because I’d waited longer than I should have, I speed-walked back to the office and arrived a scant five minutes before the Brownes.

  —

  Friday morning, I got the children off to school, checked in with Mary Lou, and then headed out to drive to Spokane. Linda Kincaid had offered to pick up Mark and Sarah after school, feed them dinner, and then take them back to the house and wait for my return.

  Frankly, I don’t know what I would have done without her. When Sarah learned I wouldn’t be home on Friday, she asked if Shay could be her babysitter. Right away Mark complained that he didn’t need a babysitter.

  Thinking about the children, I gassed up my car and headed out. Traffic was reasonable once I got out of the Seattle morning rush, and the lengthy drive was pleasant. The biggest concern was making it over Snoqualmie Pass. Winter months could be tricky. Thankfully, the weather forecast was good and the roads were clear and dry.

  I arrived just after one and Joan thoughtfully had a tuna sandwich waiting for me. Knowing me, she was well aware I wouldn’t stop along the way to eat, and she was right.

  Joe was in his recliner in the living room, and I was stunned at the first look at him. He was terribly thin, his face gaunt. When I first arrived he was asleep, something he did more and more, Joan told me. He didn’t stir when Joan brought me into the room. She lovingly placed her hand on his shoulder, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Drew is here.”

  Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and when he saw me he attempted a weak smile. “Drew,” he said, his voice feeble and thin. “Thank you for coming.”

  “It’s good to see you, Joe.” I scooted the ottoman closer to his recliner, which Joe righted. I didn’t ask him how he was doing or how he felt. It was clear he was deathly sick, and like Joan had explained it was only a matter of weeks now. Hospice had been notified.

  We talked for several minutes about the church and how matters were progressing. As always, he listened, asked pertinent questions, and had the ability to read between the lines. I was happy to tell him Sunday-morning attendance was up and that financially we were meeting our budget. That was a great relief to me. Finances were a constant worry.

  “Enough about Seattle Calvary,” Joe said. “I want to know about you. How are you doing?”

  “Much better,” I answered without explaining.

  He studied me for an uncomfortable moment, letting me know I shouldn’t have hesitated to come to see him. Neither one of us said it, but we both knew why I hadn’t. All this was communicated without either of us uttering a single word.

  After a few moments, Joe asked, “It’s been how long now since you lost Katie?”

  “Four years.” The longest, most miserable years of my life, but that was understood as well.

  A couple times Joe closed his eyes while talking and I was afraid I was tiring him out. He rebounded quickly, though, and maintained his caring and loving attitude.

  “Almost five years since she was diagnosed,” he repeated after one of his short eye-resting breaks. “Have you met anyone?”

  I don’t know what it was about Joe. He had the uncanny knack of sensing the very subject most heavy on my mind. Over the years, he’d done it again and again. It felt, at times, as if he had the ability to read my mind.

  “Funny you should ask.”

  He responded with the faint semblance of a smile. “So there is.”

  For the next thirty minutes I told him about Shay, starting with how we met in the church that morning last December, over a year ago. I explained that in helping her get into Hope Center, I’d rebounded from the spiritual slump I’d suffered. The feelings of worthlessness, of loss and anger.

  Joe arched his brows, nodded a few times, and then asked. “What about Shay appeals to you?”

  “Sarah—”

  Holding up his hand, he stopped me. “I didn’t ask about Sarah, I asked about what attracts you to this woman?”

  His question gave me pause and I realized I felt guilty about my feelings for Shay. My thoughts had wandered down paths that were different from the way I thought about other women. Several of the ladies in the church had tried to arrange blind dates for me with their daughters or nieces or the daughters of friends. Not once had I been tempted. Everything felt fresh and new with Shay.

  “I can see you’re having a hard time answering my question.”

  “No,” I disagreed, “not difficult. I realized something just now.” I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. “She’s different from any other woman I’ve ever known. There’s an edge to her that comes from a troubled past. She wasn’t raised in the church, she came to faith on her own, down a path that would have broken a woman with less grit. She’s had to fight her way to where she is now and she still has a long way to go. I admire her.”

  “Has she met the children?”

  I nodded. “They love her, especially Sarah. Mark doesn’t say much, but from the things he’s mentioned, I know he likes her, too. I love
the way she interacts with my children, the way she smiles when she’s happy.” Her smiles were rare. I was mesmerized every time I saw one and thought she was beautiful. “It’s as if she brings light into the dark corners of my life,” I added, deep in thought. “At the same time, I seem to want to justify the way I’m attracted to her and worry what my congregation will think if I start to date her.”

  Joe paused and closed his eyes again.

  I waited several minutes. “And guilty,” he added, insinuating that I might feel bad because of how deeply I loved Katie.

  “Yes, I suppose there’s that, too. I loved my wife.” I could never deny or discount the intensity and depth of my love for Katie. Every minute with her was one I’d treasured. Had I known before we married that she would die young, I wouldn’t have changed a single thing. I would have prized every day with her even more.

  “Katie loved you and she wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone.”

  Before her death, Katie and I had talked about this very subject. At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever loving another woman with the depth and passion with which I loved her. The subject was uncomfortable and I cut short our conversation, finding it depressing. In retrospect, I wished I’d looked beyond the pain of the inevitability of her leaving us and been willing to discuss the future the way she’d wanted.

  “Did you know Joan is my second wife?” Joe asked.

  Surprised, I shook my head. “No.” Glancing into the other room, I looked at Joan, who was busy baking cookies for me to take back to the children.

  “I married young. Too young,” Joe told me. “The marriage was a mistake and my wife left me for another man within the first year. The divorce devastated me. Cut me to the core. I was convinced I would be of no use to God in ministry if anyone knew I had a failed marriage under my belt. I did everything within my power to save that marriage, Drew. Everything. In the end it did no good.

  “Three years later I met Joan. We dated for two years until she finally wanted to know if I was serious. She loved me, but she wasn’t going to wait for me to propose if that wasn’t my intention.”

  Apparently, Joan was listening in on our conversation because she brought in a plate of cookies still warm from the oven. She set it down on the table next to me and said, “I ended up proposing to him.”

  “I’m no fool,” Joe said and reached for his wife’s fingers. “I said yes and there hasn’t been a day that I’ve regretted having Joan as my wife.”

  Grinning, Joan balanced her hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side.

  Joe shook his head. “Not a day, Joan. Yes, I’ve been upset with you and we’ve certainly had our share of challenges over the years. But not a minute has passed that I’ve thought I wanted anyone but you.”

  Leaning down, Joan kissed her husband’s forehead, and when she straightened I saw tears glistening in her eyes.

  “You moved into a second relationship slowly, then.”

  “It’s what I advise you to do with Shay. Give yourself time,” Joe advised.

  That was exactly what I needed to hear.

  “My father gave me good advice following my divorce. He told me to find a woman who loved me and loved God, and that’s exactly what I did. You do the same, Drew. I know God has someone special in mind for you. It could well be Shay, but it could be someone else, too. Don’t be too quick to assume she’s the one.”

  The one? I hadn’t thought of Shay as anything yet. We hadn’t so much as held hands. That didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about kissing her. My thoughts drifted in that direction far more than I cared to admit.

  From certain things she’d told me, I knew she was experienced when it came to men and relationships. She once mentioned that she’d gotten involved with a gang member who was currently imprisoned. Their relationship certainly hadn’t been platonic.

  “She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever known,” I admitted.

  “Not a bad thing, you know,” Joe told me.

  I avoided eye contact. “She’s been around, if you know what I mean.”

  Joe locked eyes with me and burst into laughter to the point that Joan came into the room and helped ease him forward, allowing him to catch his breath.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Joe muttered when he was able to speak again. “My dear boy, God can use us all, no matter what is in our past. He’s already used Shay to touch your heart and that of your children. He doesn’t ask for any of us to be perfect.”

  “I know…These feelings are unfamiliar, Joe. I’m not sure I have the right to feel the way I do. She’s beautiful and smart and she could date anyone.”

  “Is she dating anyone else?”

  This was the question I’d asked myself several times since Christmas. When Sarah had asked about Richard I’d been all ears, interested in what she had to say. When she mentioned his name, my heart had sunk until I learned that Richard was a homeless man old enough to be her father.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. We prayed together and I left shortly after four. By the time I arrived back in Seattle I was mentally and physically drained. Thankfully, both kids were involved in a movie. I thanked Linda for stepping in for me and gave the children the cookies Joan had sent home with me.

  Sarah crawled into my lap and laid her head upon my shoulder. “Next time we need a babysitter…”

  “I don’t need a sitter,” Mark insisted.

  “Next time you leave us,” Sarah started again, “can we have Shay instead of Mrs. Kincaid?”

  I kissed her forehead. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Laying my head on top of my daughter’s, I thought about Shay. She hadn’t been far from my thoughts the entire drive home, and I wished, with an almost hungry need, to spend time with her as soon as it could be arranged.

  “You have a visitor,” Sadie said, coming back into the kitchen to get me. We were ready to close for the day and I’d already checked out.

  “A customer?” I asked and wanted to groan. We were minutes away from locking the doors.

  “By the looks of him, I doubt it.”

  Him? I hoped it wasn’t Richard. Frankie wouldn’t take kindly to Richard coming inside the café. I wiped my hands on my apron and headed out front. It didn’t take me long to see Drew’s son, who sat in a booth with his back to me. Mark’s head was bowed and he didn’t look at me when I approached.

  “Mark? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  He looked up and I gasped. His left eye was nearly swollen shut and was turning black and blue. “Mark, oh my goodness, what happened? Wait, let me get some ice. It will help take the swelling down.” Rushing behind the counter, I grabbed a plastic bag and filled it with ice.

  The young teen groaned slightly when I set the makeshift compress against his face.

  “It will feel better in a few minutes,” I assured him as I checked him for any other injuries. It looked like his lip was cut, too, as there was evidence of blood.

  “School’s out,” he said, answering my question.

  “I take it you got into a fight?” I continued to hold the ice against his face and gently pushed back the hair from his forehead. “Do I want to see the other guy?”

  The question brought a hint of amusement, but then he grimaced, as if smiling caused him pain.

  “I don’t want to go home,” he murmured, not making eye contact. “Dad’s going to be mad.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Mark nodded. “He doesn’t believe in fighting.”

  “He’s right, you know. If there’s another way out of a confrontation, then you need to take it.”

  “That sounds good in theory,” he muttered.

  From what I knew of Mark, I strongly suspected he wasn’t a fighter. I’d wager that whatever happened hadn’t been instigated by him. “But it isn’t always possible to avoid a fight.”

  “You’re telling me!”

  I laughed, and after a few minutes I removed the ice to see if the swelling had gone do
wn. It had, but only slightly. “You’re going to have a doozie of a black eye.”

  His shoulders sagged, as if this was the last thing he wanted to hear. “I was afraid of that.”

  As much as I longed to hug and comfort him, I didn’t think Mark would appreciate it. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “Not really.”

  I was tempted to reach for my phone and text Drew. Because both our schedules were busy, mine with work and night classes, we’d taken to communicating by texting several times a day.

  “Would you come home with me and talk to my dad?” Mark asked, keeping his head down, but he raised his eyes up to meet mine as if he wasn’t certain what I’d say.

  I had night classes that evening, ones I couldn’t miss. “I’ll go to the church office with you so you can talk to your dad, if that’s what you want.” I wanted to give Drew a heads-up that we were on the way, but I knew he was busy that afternoon.

  Mark’s shoulders fell when he realized he was going to have to be the one to explain the fight to his father. Slowly he nodded. “Okay, but you’ll still come with me?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I do. Dad won’t yell as hard if he sees you.”

  That was nice to hear, although I doubted it was true. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll walk to the church with you.” I’d be able to catch a bus to the community college from Fourth Street easily enough.

  I returned to the kitchen, finished up what I needed to do, and bid Sadie, Alice, and Frankie goodbye before collecting my purse and coat.

  “The kid okay?” Frankie asked before I joined Mark. Apparently, he’d caught sight of Mark’s shiner.

  “I think so. He wants me to go with him while he talks to his dad.”

  “His dad that preacher guy? The one who comes in, orders the special? The one you can’t keep your eyes off of?”

  My gaze shot to Sadie. It seemed she’d mentioned my fascination with Drew to Frankie. My friend didn’t even pretend to look guilty. I was sorry I’d said anything to Sadie. I couldn’t be upset with either of them, though. Frankie refused to let me pay for the coffee I brought to Richard. He didn’t get upset when Chuck started showing up every so often, either. He was gruff about it, not wanting my appreciation or Richard’s.