Cup of Joe

by Teri Wilson

  “We’re going to do this, Lord. Whatever it takes, I’m ready.”

  For once, she spoke the words aloud. Her voice sounded strange, foreign. Even Bliss noticed. The little spaniel froze in place, her tail tucked between her legs, as she eyed Goldie with curiosity. Goldie didn’t even respond. No words of reassurance. Nothing.

  Instead, she turned and headed for the sofa, plopped down cross-legged in the center, and closed her eyes. She tried to formulate the words for what had happened at class. She supposed that was the best place to start. She would just tell God about Harold, the bent finger, everything… finishing with her complete breakdown in front of everyone.

  “Dear Lo-rd”

  Before she could finish His Name, she choked on a sob. This time, instead of pushing it down, holding it back, as she’d been doing for so long, she let it out. That’s what this was all about, right? Finally letting God know the depths of her pain and asking Him for healing. The sob wracked her body with a horrendous shudder and turned into a horrible groan. Its intensity frightened Goldie, and somewhere in her consciousness, she noticed Bliss dive under the bed in the pink room.

  In the long moments that followed, Goldie truly understood Paul’s words in the book of Romans, “We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” It was a familiar verse. She’d heard it countless times, but never grasped the true meaning of it until this very instant. She had no idea what to pray for anymore, but she needed God more than ever. Strange choking sounds came from deep inside her throat, and she just gave into them. She let all the ugliness and grief pour out of her, all the while trusting that somehow God was there. That he knew all the feelings she was struggling with that she couldn’t manage to put into words. In some way, her prayers reached His ears when she couldn’t articulate them.

  And, somehow, through all the tears and pain, she felt His presence. For the first time since her grandfather died, she was showing Him how she felt. It wasn’t pretty. But it was honest. It was her truth. And Jesus—the way, the truth and the life—was all about truth, wasn’t He?

  Goldie had no idea how long she poured her heart and soul out to God that afternoon. Long enough to leave the sofa cushions damp beneath her tearstained face. And long enough that the late afternoon sun no longer peeked through the curtains. By the time she at last lifted her head and took in her surroundings, night had fallen.

  But, strangely enough, her soul felt as if it were finally emerging from the darkness.

  Goldie clutched her chest, as though she were testing the condition of her heart. She braced herself for the familiar tightness that had been there for weeks now. Sometimes it pressed down like an anvil, and others, like when she was around Joe, it was barely noticeable. It was always there, though. A constant reminder of what she had lost. Just in case she forgot that she was all alone in the world.

  Not anymore.

  She inhaled a deep breath, so deep she almost choked. Then the choking turned to hesitant laughter.

  I can breathe. I can really breathe.

  The pressure was gone, lifted away by an angel or more likely, God Himself.

  Thank you, Lord.

  Goldie rose from the sofa, surprised by how buoyant her body felt. She imagined that if she really tried, she could probably float into the pink room. She had never been so exhausted in her life, but it was a good kind of tired. She felt as though she had been poured out, but miraculously filled back up. It was quite a heady feeling. She suppressed a smile when she realized just how tense she’d been for so long without ever realizing what a toll it had taken on her.

  I guess Peggy was right, after all. The thought brought a smile to her lips. That probably shouldn’t come as a surprise.

  Goldie had the sudden urge to cram her feet in her fuzzy slippers and run next door. If only it wasn’t so late. The sleepy hands of the mantle clock told her it was past midnight. She couldn’t wait to tell Peggy she’d finally done it. She’d had the Big Conversation and lived to tell about it. Better than that, she no longer had to live in fear she might lose it at any given moment. She didn’t know why she’d pushed God away. Well, she guessed it was because she was angry. Angry at being left alone. But now she knew the truth. She wasn’t alone. She never had been. God was there all along.

  And with this knowledge, Goldie had a revelation.

  Joe had been there all along, too.

  Her breath hitched in her throat at the thought of him, and her heart thudded with greater intensity than when she’d last seen him. She loved him. She’d known it for a while now. But this was different. Now, she was ready to act on that knowledge. To take a chance on a future with Joe.

  Goldie’s eyes flitted to the quiet television and she remembered her silly dream about being on the game show. She giggled aloud thinking about Cary asking her to put a price tag on a fabulous new life with Joe by her side. At the time, she couldn’t bring herself to respond. The price, the risk of heartbreak was too high. She clamped her eyes closed tight, picturing the emcee in her mind, thrusting his microphone toward her, watching, waiting for her to name that price. This time she would do it. She would take a chance.

  A strange, snuffling sound broke her dreamy connection to Cary, and Goldie’s eyes flew open.

  What was that?

  She stood very still in the silent house, wondering at first if she’d only imagined the strange noise. Then it happened again. Goldie turned her head, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

  “Hello?” she called.

  A mournful whine was the only response.

  Goldie let out a ragged breath. “Bliss? Is that you?”

  She padded to the pink room and looked under the bed. No Bliss.

  The poor thing. Goldie realized her hysterics had probably frightened the life out of the little dog. “Bliss, where are you, sweetheart?”

  The spaniel whined again and then started digging on the hardwood floor. Goldie followed the sound to the entry way and found Bliss frantically pawing at the front door.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Goldie stood with her hands on her hips and furrowed her brows at the little dog. Good grief. She’d ignored Bliss for a few short hours to get things right with God, and the poor dog had gone crazy.

  Goldie bent to pick her up, but Bliss would have none of it. She flailed about in Goldie’s arms, all four legs pawing furiously at the air.

  “What has gotten into you?”

  Goldie tightened her grip and tried to nestle the spaniel close to her chest, but Bliss sprung out of her arms and flung herself at the threshold. Once on the ground, she pushed her black nose into the tiny crevice between the door and the frame. She sniffed, snorted and scratched at the floor.

  Goldie watched with mounting curiosity. “Is something out there?”

  Bliss looked up long enough to woof and then went back to sniffing.

  Goldie leaned toward the peephole. She couldn’t see a thing, but perhaps Peggy’s cat had taken up residence on her porch. That would certainly explain Bliss’s sudden agitation. If that was the case, she needed to shoo the kitty back home or they would never get any sleep.

  With a firm hand, she scooped up Bliss off the floor. This time, when the dog tried to wiggle free, Goldie was prepared. “Oh no you don’t,” she scolded. “Why don’t we put you in your crate for a minute?”

  Once Bliss was safely confined to her crate, Goldie hurried back to the front door. She peered through the peephole once again, but it was like looking into a black hole. She couldn’t see a thing. As she reached for the doorknob, she hesitated, her stomach twisting into a nervous knot.

  She took a deep breath and told herself not to be silly. There was nothing frightening out there. It was Peggy’s cat. That’s all. Before she could change her mind, she twisted the doorknob and yanked open the door.

  What she found there wasn’t a cat. Not by a long shot.

  Goldie gasped and her
heart skidded to a stop at the sight of Joe and Java sleeping quietly on her front doorstep. She had to brace herself against the doorframe to keep from falling down in utter shock. What was he doing here? It didn’t make any sense.

  While she stood gaping at them, Java opened his sleepy eyes and blinked up at Goldie. Goldie made the shush motion she’d seen Joe use before to keep the Husky quiet. Java sighed and closed his eyes once more, curling his tail more snugly around his body. Goldie wasn’t quite sure why, but she didn’t want to disturb Joe. Even though he was slumped against her porch, he looked so peaceful. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Willing herself not to make a sound, she knelt beside him. Her knee bumped against something and she realized it was her damp cup of melted whippaccino. Goldie picked it up, her gaze flitting back and forth between the paper cup and Joe’s sleeping form.

  My whippaccino. Does this mean he’s been out here this whole time?

  At this thought, guilt and delight both swirled within her, warring with one another. He must have been terribly worried about her to stay out here all afternoon and into the night, watching over her like a guardian angel. She felt awful for causing him so much concern. Yet, she couldn’t suppress the bubble of joy that rose up in her soul knowing that he cared for her to such an extent. This was much more than bringing her coffee every day, or even giving her a puppy. The man had camped out on her porch all afternoon and fallen asleep sitting up.

  Goldie supposed she really should wake him. That was her intention when she leaned toward him. But as the distance between them closed, her heart beat faster and more furious. She was honestly stunned that he couldn’t hear it, that it didn’t wake him with a start.

  When she was close enough to whisper in his ear, she said simply, “Joe.”

  He didn’t move. A lock of his chocolate hair rippled under her breath, but he remained perfectly still. Sitting this close to him, Goldie noticed for the first time the impossible length of his dark eyelashes. With her gaze, she traced his strong jaw line and the gentle curve of his bottom lip and had the sudden urge to wake him, not with a whisper, but with a kiss.

  The very thought of kissing Joe made her dizzy. She backed away and sat on her heels, unable to look away from him.

  She couldn’t wake him. Who knew what would happen if she did. She couldn’t very well throw herself into his arms and kiss him without warning. If he’d been worried about her before, he would likely think she’d gone completely off the deep end.

  No, it was better to leave him here. There was, however, one thing she could do for him.

  After taking one more lingering look at those long eyelashes, she rose and sneaked quietly back into the house. Without any hint of hesitation, she went straight toward her grandfather’s room. The closed door greeted her. Goldie clenched her fists and braced herself to enter.

  I can do this. After all, that’s what tonight was all about, right? Opening doors.

  The door opened with a lazy creak. Goldie stepped over the threshold, noting that the room hadn’t changed a bit. That fact surprised her, although she wasn’t sure why. No one had been inside, so why wouldn’t it look the same? She let her gaze sweep over her Grandpa’s glasses, still sitting on the bedside table, only now covered with a fine layer of dust, the pillow still with a faint depression in the center, and his favorite afghan folded neatly at the foot of the bed. She ran her hand over the knotted yarn. Like Goldie’s afghan, this one had been crocheted by her grandmother’s nimble hands years ago. It felt soft and soothing between Goldie’s fingers as she lifted it gently off the bed.

  She held it up to her face and inhaled, closing her eyes. The blanket still smelled vaguely of her grandfather—a familiar combination of coffee and buttered, cinnamon raisin toast—the scents of her childhood. A soft smile played on her lips as she realized the coffee smell now reminded her of Joe.

  Joe, who still lay sleeping on her porch.

  Snuggling the afghan close to her chest, Goldie walked back out of the bedroom. This time, she left the door propped open behind her. Her shoulders lifted slightly. It felt like she had just shrugged off a bulky winter coat.

  When she reached the porch, Joe remained still as stone. White cherry blossoms dusted his shoulders and swirled around the moonlit night. She knelt beside him again and resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his face, to brush the rumpled hair off his brow. Maybe if she touched him, and felt his warm flesh beneath her fingers, she would believe he was real. No, she couldn’t. Instead, she unfolded the blanket, pausing to admire the careful loops of interwoven yarn. With a touch lighter than a hummingbird, she spread the afghan over Joe, praying she wouldn’t wake him. He stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering while Goldie held her breath with anticipation. The damp sea breeze seemed to stop blowing around her as she waited for him to sit up and open his eyes.

  But he didn’t. He breathed out a long sigh, burrowed under the blanket and murmured something that sounded oddly like her name as he drifted back to sleep. Goldie sat and watched him for several long moments waiting for him to say her name again. Then, she slowly rose, said a silent prayer over him and whispered, “Good night, Joe. Sleep well.”

  She felt Java’s gaze on her back as she slipped away.

  Cup of Joe

  Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing

  Cup of Joe

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joe wasn’t quite sure what woke him first. It was a toss up between Java’s enormous paw batting him square in the face and the ferocious crick in his neck. Every time he moved his head, even a fraction of an inch, pain shot through him from his jaw-line clear to his shoulder.

  I suppose that’s what happens when you sleep against a wooden doorjamb.

  After spending the better part of an evening and an entire night here on Goldie’s front porch, the doorjamb seemed more solid than ever. He needn’t worry about her safety. That door could have been made of lead.

  “Woo woo,” Java howled and he poked Joe with a sharp jab of his muzzle. Clearly, the Husky had had his fill of the vigil himself.

  “Take it easy, there.” Joe struggled to sit up straight and then rubbed his ribs, which had absorbed much of the impact of Java’s impatience. He glanced at his watch and realized he needed to head home and change clothes almost immediately if he was going to make it to church in time to lead worship. “We’ll be on our way in just a second.”

  Joe winced at the words. Although they were true, he hated that he meant them. He didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not without seeing Goldie first. Even in his woozy, half-asleep state, he knew that much was true.

  He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now. Instinctively, he glanced over to the spot where he’d left Goldie’s melted whippaccino the day before. It wasn’t there. He blinked. Where could it have gone?

  It was in that puzzled moment that Joe recognized the comforting sensation of a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked down. Sure enough, there it was. Robert Jensen’s favorite afghan draped loosely over his body. He would recognize it anywhere. For the last few months of Bob’s life, it had been a constant presence—usually spread over his lap while he rested on the sofa.

  And now, here it was. There was no doubt how he’d come to find himself huddled beneath Goldie’s grandfather’s beloved blanket. Goldie must have been here sometime during the night and left it for him. His gaze swept instantly to the front door. It looked the same as it had the day before when he sat out here waiting in agony for some sign of life beyond its carved wooden grooves. But today, instead of filling his soul with dread, the sight of it gave him a strange feeling in his bones. The same stab of longing lingered, only this time, it was tinged with a fine layer of hope.

  Goldie had been out here, in this very spot.

  Joe stood and folded the afghan as carefully as possible. Frustrati
on fueled his movements. She had been here, and he’d slept through the whole thing. He jammed his feet back into his sneakers while Java shimmied around his legs.

  Joe shot the Husky a pained glance. “At any point when Goldie was out here did you even consider waking me up? Did it cross your mind at all?”