by Mary Tribbey
Chapter 21
On their last day together before Joan was scheduled to go back to work, Dave surprised her by taking her to church with him. “During the football season, with all the scheduled games, I don’t get to church often. When I am not playing or travelling, I usually go to the Sunday morning services. When I was growing up, we always used to attend church together as a family, and I don’t feel right when I miss church.”
Sitting beside Dave in the sanctuary, Joan listened to Dave’s deep baritone voice as he sang along with the congregation. When the preacher spoke, Joan felt the warming presence of the Holy Spirit. Afterwards, they grabbed a bite to eat and headed home. Mrs. Jensen had Sundays off, so the house was empty when they walked inside.
“Now, what is the next step in working on the article?” Dave asked.
“We need to review all our information, sort it out and decide what you want included. Can you think of anything that you know you don’t want included?” Joan asked.
Joan retrieved all her notes and began laying them out in stacks on the dining room table. She had notes on Dave’s childhood, mostly from his Mom and Dad. There was a stack from Coach Thompson about his high school improvement and his early character on and off the field. Another pile was about his days in college in Washington. Another large stack included his professional career, including awards, relationships with other players, and his current season. Another pile had quotes from family, friends, and teammates.
Joan looked around and noticed that Dave’s scrapbook was not on the table. “Where is the scrapbook your mom made for you? I didn’t make notes about that information yet.”
“It’s on the desk in my bedroom. Do you want it?” he asked.
“Yes, I’d like to borrow it for a few minutes,” Joan answered.
They walked down the hallway to retrieve it. When they walked in, Joan noticed an easel set up in the corner by the window. It had a cloth draped over it.
“What are you working on right now?” she asked walking over to it.
“It’s not finished yet. I’m still working on it, but I haven’t been able to capture the subject yet,” Dave said.
“May I look at it?” Joan asked.
“I don’t usually show my paintings until they are finished, but I’m not keeping secrets from you. For you, I’ll make an exception.” he said as he removed the cloth.
Joan stood, not believing her eyes, when she realized it was a portrait of a woman. She had blue-green eyes and light brown hair that fell softly around her face. The mouth was slightly open in a warm smile. She seemed to be looking up at someone standing beside her and was ready to speak or be kissed. She was lying down naked except for a piece of flowing blue material that barely covered her body.
Joan looked quickly over at Dave with a quizzical look on her face. “I don’t know what to say or think. It is really a lovely painting, but it looks like me. Is this a portrait of me?” she asked hesitantly.
“It’s actually a portrait of the woman I’ve fallen in love with and want to marry,” Dave said with a guilty blush. “She’s involved with another man, and she isn’t being honest with me about him.”
“It is very beautiful. I can understand why you love her,” Joan said.
“I’m not in love with her just because she is beautiful. She is more beautiful than I could ever paint her, because much of her beauty is from the inside. She’s gentle, loving, intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. I am waiting until the right moment to give it to her. Until then, I keep it here to give me hope that one day we will be married,” Dave answered slowly.
“I hope she does love you, Dave. You deserve the best of everything,” Joan said. Joan picked up the scrapbook and hurried out of the room.
Back at the dining room, she put the scrapbook down on the table. Dave looked at the stacks of information and just shook his head. “I had no idea you had taken so many notes. How did you collect so much information? I only saw you writing a few times,” he asked.
“After each session, when I got back to my room, I continued jotting down information they told me. I can remember things fairly well, but I always try to get it on paper before changing to another source. That’s what I was doing most of the time when I was alone in my room. What suggestions do you have for the content or slant of the article?” Joan asked.
“I’m totally out of my area of expertise here, Joan. What I want is an honest, true picture of who I am. I can’t think of anything I would leave out of the article, except our relationship and things that are sensational or misleading.” When he noticed a strange look cloud her face when he mentioned their relationship, he quickly explained, “I am not ashamed or embarrassed about my feelings for you and what we have done together. To me, it is just very personal and not for publication.”
“Thanks, I agree with that, besides it would make people doubt the objectivity of what I write about you. I know I am going to have to work extra hard to be totally objective.”
“No matter what you include, I trust you totally and leave full control of the content to you. I do still want to read it before it is submitted for publication. How can I help you now?” he asked.
“Let’s start with one stack and go over what information that I got. The organizing is usually the hardest part; once that is done, the writing usually flows naturally,” she explained.
As she read through each set of notes, she tried to read his feelings about what she had included in each one, but he rarely reacted, unless to add a comment about the person who had been interviewed.
About six o’clock, Dave stood and stretched. He laughed, “This is harder for me than playing football. I’m getting hungry. How about stopping for tonight and either go out to eat or fix something here.”
“How’s your shoulder doing tonight?” she asked.
“It's better, but it is still a little sore,” he answered.
“Let’s go see what we have in the kitchen that we can fix. I think staying in might be easier on your shoulder; that is, if you trust me to cook for you,” she added.
“That sounds fine to me. I really don’t feel much like going out in public tonight. Maybe we can fix something together,” he suggested.
They left the papers on the dining room table and went exploring in the kitchen cupboards. The refrigerator and cupboards were well stocked. “What do you feel like for dinner? It looks like we have everything we need for an old fashioned ‘breakfast dinner’, a healthy vegetable salad, hamburgers or sandwiches. Do you have any preference?” she asked.
“I’m not fussy. What is a ‘breakfast dinner?'" Dave asked.
“Sometimes when I was very young, my dad would surprise me with a favorite breakfast meal at dinner time. Looking back now, I think he did it because it was easy and cheap, but I thought it was a treat. French toast, hot cakes, or a favorite cold cereal were some of our choices,” Joan explained.
“That sounds easy and fun. I haven’t had French toast in years. Maybe we can have some eggs, ham or bacon, and French toast. How does that sound?” he asked.
“Do you want me to cook it and serve you or do you want to help?” she asked.
“Working together might be fun. I’m pretty spoiled with Mrs. Jensen’s cooking, but I should learn how to cook basic things like these. What do we need to make our breakfast dinner?” Dave asked.
Joan got bread, eggs, milk, butter, and a slice of center cut ham out of the refrigerator and put them on the counter. She looked in the lower cupboards and found two frying pans and a mixing bowl. Dave began cracking eggs in the mixing bowl.
Looking in the bowl, she laughed. “I see you got some egg shells in there. Do you like your French toast extra crunchy?” She asked. Then she carefully picked them out of the bowl.
As Joan gave directions, he mixed in milk, salt and pepper, Joan took the ham slice, cut it into serving size pieces, and put it into one of the p
ans. She had Dave cut the bread slices in half, dip them in the egg solution, and begin frying them in the other skillet. While cooking, they laughed and fought over space on the stove. Dave laughed and hugged Joan and shifted her out of the way. The sound of the ham sizzling in the pan signaled them to get serious and finish cooking their meal. They sat at the small table in the kitchen and devoured their ‘breakfast dinner.’ After they were finished eating, Joan cleared off the table and began washing the dishes.
“You can leave the dishes, and Mrs. Jensen will clean them up tomorrow,” he said.
“I know, but I’d rather do them myself. I’m used to cooking and cleaning up after myself. It will only take a couple of minutes,” Joan said.
“You wash, and I’ll dry,” Dave said, taking a dish towel off the rack. They worked together and quickly had the kitchen back in order.
When they walked into the living room, Dave took her hand and pulled her into his embrace. “You forgot to make dessert for me. I want a sweet treat!” he said pouting like a child.
Joan giggled, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to go to bed without your dessert.”
Dave hugged her closer and bent down and captured her lips with his. The kiss changed when their mouths opened and their tongues touched. Dave pulled her against his body. Joan’s body arched against him and she felt herself growing more and more aroused. Slowly Dave loosened his grip. “Now that’s what I call a delicious dessert,” he whispered against her ear. Slowly Dave released her and Joan moved unsteadily away from him.
“I hate to see tomorrow come, Joan. This week with you has been the most wonderful time of my life. I don’t want it to end, but I know you are supposed to be back at work tomorrow, and I have an appointment with the team doctor. I have thoroughly enjoyed being with you, and I am going to miss seeing you and talking to you all the time. We didn’t talk about this before, but do you want to go home tonight or get up early tomorrow and I’ll drive you to your apartment or to your job? I could do either. If I take you to your job, I could meet Mr. White and personally give him the tickets I promised. Then, after work, I could pick you up and take you wherever you want to go,” Dave suggested.
“I’ve enjoyed this week so much. I’ve met such interesting people and seen things and places I would probably never have had a chance to see. You have been so much fun to be around, and I’m going to miss you a lot, too. I don’t know which would be better for you. If I leave tonight, you could get more sleep tomorrow morning and be more rested when you go to the doctor. I hate you having to go out tonight, but I think it would be best for me to go home tonight. Why not just call a cab for me? That way you could stay here and rest. Let me gather up my research and grab my suitcase,” she said.
“I wouldn’t consider having you take a cab. I’ll take you home, even though I’d rather have you stay here with me. I like having you near me. Your touch has done more for my shoulder and given me more relief from pain than any pain medication could do. I know you have your life to get back to, so I’m being selfish trying to keep you here longer. I’m sure there are others you need to see or talk to,” he hinted. "Get your stuff together and I’ll take you home,” he added sadly.