Hidden Blessings

by Kim Cash Tate

  “You’re leaving, and you weren’t going to tell me?”

  Lance set the box down. “I was going to tell you.”

  “When?” Kendra asked. “With the car packed and the motor running? And why did Molly know before me?”

  “She came down to get a DVD and saw me packing.”

  Kendra winced, though she tried to cover it.

  “Come sit down,” he said, leading her to the sectional.

  She reclined slightly, looking at him. “Why are you moving?”

  He sat near her, on the edge. “It’s time.”

  “What does that mean, ‘it’s time’?”

  “I think I was meant to be here for a short season, to help you and Trey, but . . . the season ended. And that’s a good thing. I thank God for how He’s leading Trey, and you have a great community of helpers around you.”

  “So that’s what you were, part of the ‘community of helpers’? One of many interchangeable parts?”

  “I don’t know what to call it, Kendra,” Lance said. “I just know I started feeling like I was in the way.” He looked at her. “To be honest, I felt like you didn’t want me here anymore. And you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in your own house. When you want to watch a movie, you should be able to come down and watch a movie, without worrying whether I’m here.”

  She stared into her lap. “Where are you going?”

  “Darrin’s,” Lance said. “His roommate moved out, so it was perfect timing.”

  Kendra nodded, letting several seconds pass. “For the record, it’s not true,” she said finally. “I don’t know why you thought I didn’t want you here.”

  “Maybe because whenever I came into a room, you’d leave. Whenever I’d offer to help, you’d refuse it.” His eyes spoke his hurt. “It was like you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

  Kendra stared away from him now, hand swiping a tear. “I couldn’t bear the sight of you.”

  He lifted his hands. “What’s the difference?”

  “After you cut my hair and held me . . . then apologized and picked up the broom . . . I knew I could never be someone you . . .” She waved away the rest of her thought.

  Lance moved closer. “Kendra, I’m not following. What are you saying?”

  She looked upward with a sigh, fisting tears away. “I’m saying I wanted you to hug me. Okay? But it was selfish to want that because look at me.” She gestured at herself. “It was selfish to want you to care about me.”

  “I do care about you.”

  She tossed her eyes. “Right. Part of the community of helpers.”

  “Can we be real here?” Lance asked. “Can you handle real? Or would you rather talk in circles?”

  Kendra looked at him. “I’m all for being real,” she said. “Why not? It can be our parting gift to one another.”

  “Here’s my real, Kendra Woods: I love you.”

  “Don’t do that.” Kendra shook her head back and forth. “Don’t tell me you’re being real and then say what you think will make me feel better.”

  “Kendra, stop.” His gaze penetrated. “I love you.”

  “But how is that possible?” she asked. “How could you love me? Why would you love me?”

  He moved closer. “I can’t explain it any more than I can explain why you have cancer,” he said. “We’ve only spent a few weeks together. You were supposed to marry someone else just last month. I’ve told myself I’m crazy.” He paused. “When we hugged in the bathroom, I apologized because you were vulnerable, and I didn’t want to take advantage. But the last thing I wanted to do was stop holding you.”

  Her brown eyes met his gaze. “I told myself I was crazy, too, that it made no sense. For the same reasons.”

  “What are you saying?” It was almost a whisper.

  Kendra let a tear roll. “I’m saying I love you too.”

  He brought her to himself, holding her, his heart beating a pattern he’d never felt.

  “It’s not right though, Lance,” Kendra said. “It’s not fair for you to love me because nothing can come of this. I already saw it with Derek—”

  “Wait. Whoa.” Lance rubbed her arm. “I’m not Derek. And whatever you two had, this is not that.” He looked down at her. “Can we agree on that much?”

  “We can definitely agree on that much.”

  “I want to ask one thing of you.”

  Kendra waited, looking up at him.

  “Will you let me love you?”

  “Why do I feel like that’s a trick question?”

  “Not at all,” Lance said. “It’s just, if we don’t establish this now, you’ll keep telling me what you think is right or fair or what kind of life I could or should be living.” He met her gaze. “Just . . . let me love you. Can you do that?”

  Kendra twisted her mouth as if thinking. “I’ll try?”

  “I’ll take it,” he said. “For you, that’s good.”

  She shifted suddenly, eyeing him. “Does this mean you’re staying?”

  “Only if you want me to.”

  She sank into his embrace, answering his question. And he held her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  KENDRA HAD NEVER SEEN THE WOMEN OPEN UP LIKE THIS. THE guys usually had the questions and comments, most of them skeptical, which made for interesting dialogue. But it took up most of the time, and often not even Molly seemed willing to interject.

  Lance must’ve noticed. Tonight, at the fourth meeting, he announced that the men and women would break into smaller groups for discussion after the main study. Since Kendra was lying on the sofa, the women stayed in the living room, and the guys took the lower level.

  Darla Reyes, a neighbor from a few houses down, was speaking now. She’d lived there over twenty years and was universally regarded around the block as nosy. In that vein, she’d asked Lance why people were coming to the house Wednesday nights. When he told her, and followed with an invitation to check it out, she’d said she just might. Still, they were surprised to see her show up, and chalked that up to nosiness also. But no matter her initial motive, she seemed moved to share.

  “I don’t know. Is this too personal?” Darla asked. “I’ve never been to anything like this.”

  “You can say whatever’s on your heart, Darla,” Cyd said. “It sometimes helps just to get it out into the open.”

  “The first thing I thought about when Lance said people disappoint, that they will never be everything we want them to be . . .” She paused, thinking. “No. He said they can’t be everything we want them to be. That’s what struck me, that they can’t. And I thought about Bernie, my husband of twenty-four years, and how plain unhappy I am.” She glanced around the room. “This won’t get out, will it?”

  “We have a code of confidentiality,” Cyd said, “and I can only hope everyone adheres to it.”

  “So, as I was saying, I’m forty-six, and I have needs, you know? I mean, I’m not in the grave yet. And I’m not even talking about sex necessarily, but will I never get that fluttery feeling when we kiss or—no, wait—how about, we don’t even kiss!” She threw her hands in the air at the travesty. “I used to love kissing more than sex, and we don’t even kiss anymore.”

  The young women looked at one another, probably wondering if this would be their fate.

  “So, what I want to know is, how would Jesus fulfill that longing? Because didn’t Lance say Jesus is the One we look to, to satisfy our needs?”

  “Darla, I love your comment and your question,” Cyd said. “I know I needed to hear that because I’m in my forties, but I’ve only been married three years. And by age forty, I had built up so many ideals of marriage that I thought my husband would satisfy all the longings of my heart. It’s just not possible.”

  “I had a lot of ideals about marriage too,” Kendra said. “Ideals that were shattered before the marriage.” She looked at Darla. “You probably don’t know. I was engaged, but my fiancé broke it off when I got sick.”

  Darla nodded. “I kne
w it was broken off but didn’t know why. I promise to keep it secret. But be glad, honey,” she continued. “Think what would have happened if you’d found out what a schmuck he was after you married him.”

  “Oooh, that was good, Darla,” Molly said, “but now I’m waiting to hear Cyd’s response too. How does Jesus fulfill these basic longings we have as women, whether married or single?”

  Cyd blew out a sigh. “These are not easy questions,” she said. “I’ll answer from the standpoint of looking to Jesus as a single, since I spent so many years with those basic longings.” She thought a moment. “Jesus became my pursuit; meaning, I focused on knowing Him, growing in Him, walking with Him. And whenever those basic longings began to overwhelm me, it was because I had taken my focus off of Jesus.” She paused. “I don’t know if that makes sense, but I can honestly say Jesus became my everything. He was enough.” Her eyes brightened. “Wow, it just clicked that I need to incorporate that same mind-set into my marriage. Jesus should still be my pursuit. He’s still my everything, because Cedric can never be that.”

  “So I’m guessing I’m out of luck if I don’t believe in Jesus,” Darla said.

  “Not at all, Darla,” Cyd said. “This isn’t an exclusive club. You can get to know Him too.”

  Darla seemed to ponder that.

  “So, I found out very recently that people disappoint,” Jess said.

  Everyone shifted her way.

  “I was a virgin when I came to Wash U. I wanted to save myself for someone special, and I thought I’d found him. He said he loved me.” Jess spoke evenly, not a hint of emotion, yet her words were clearly coming from a deep place. “On Monday I told him I was three weeks late, and he stopped taking my calls.”

  “What is it with these schmucks?” Darla muttered.

  “I got my period this morning,” Jess said, “but I didn’t bother to tell him.”

  “I know that was painful,” Cyd said. “It hurts when we hope in someone, and those hopes are crushed. And here’s the hard question to ask ourselves—whom have we hurt? Because we’ve all hurt someone. We’re all flawed.”

  Heads nodded reluctantly.

  “But Lance said it well,” Cyd continued. “Jesus is the hope that never disappoints. He can’t disappoint. It’s not in His nature. He’s the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”

  Kendra thought about the person she’d hoped in, whom she wanted to be perfect—her dad. But he was flawed, just as she was flawed. He was on her mind more and more. And for the first time, she decided to pray about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  August

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE UP FOR IT?” ARM AROUND KENDRA’S waist, Lance helped her down the stairs. “We can do this another time.”

  “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is,” Kendra said. “But you told me you had a surprise, and I want to see it.”

  “That was before you started having those spasms.”

  Kendra had had her third chemo session yesterday, with Lance accompanying her for the first time. Since she usually didn’t get hit with the worst effects until two to three days after, he thought it would be safe to plan the surprise for today.

  “It’s not like we’re leaving the house,” Kendra said. “I’ll just lie down if it gets bad.”

  Lance looked at her, wishing he could take away her pain. “Have I told you how much I admire you?”

  She looked surprised. “For what?”

  “For the way you’re dealing with such a horrible disease,” Lance said. “I know there are times when the pain is excruciating, but you don’t give up.”

  “Someone once told me I could live in the midst of this.” Kendra paused. “I’ve never forgotten your words. I might’ve started falling for you that day.”

  “Oh, you might’ve, huh?”

  “Maybe.”

  He smiled, helping her past the last stair. “Now. Close your eyes.”

  “Really?” Kendra smiled, closing them.

  Lance led her a few feet into the dining room. He wasn’t the most romantic guy. He knew that. His mind didn’t work like that, to come up with creative ways to romance a woman. He just wanted this to be special for her.

  “Okay,” he said. “Open.”

  Kendra’s hands went to her face. “Oh, Lance . . .”

  He’d set the dining room table with two place settings. Cyd had helped him pick everything out—the place mats, chargers and matching plates, cloth napkins, even the floral centerpiece. But the rest was his doing. Around the room were select photos Kendra had taken over the past month, blown up to poster size. The images were stunning.

  “I can’t believe you did this.” She moved from picture to picture. “Did I take these? I don’t remember them looking like this.”

  “Yes. You captured these. You can really see the beauty when they’re cropped and blown up. I wanted to encourage you to keep going with it. You’re really talented.”

  “It’s almost therapeutic.” Kendra stared at one she’d taken of a blue sky with swirling clouds and a bit of rainbow bursting through. “You see things—everyday things—you didn’t see before. You see life you didn’t see before, so much of God’s creation.” She turned to him. “I see why you said it’s a form of worship for you.”

  “This is my favorite, Ken,” Lance said, “the close-up of this daisy.” He low-whistled. “Look at that. And this wasn’t me cropping it; this is how you shot it. Look at the droplets of rain on the petals.”

  “That was right down the street,” Kendra said. “Before, I would’ve passed it like it was nothing.”

  “We get to enjoy these beautiful images while we eat dinner,” Lance said, “so let me pull out your chair and seat you.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’ll be back with the first course.”

  Kendra called after him. “It’s not your famous green drink, is it?”

  Lance chuckled, moving around the mess he’d made in the kitchen. He stirred the soup he’d left on a low simmer, then ladled it into bowls that matched the plates. He walked them piping hot to the dining room.

  “Mmm . . . ,” Kendra said. “I love your soups.”

  Lance loved that she loved them. It motivated him to try different recipes. But his main motivation was that they were easy for her to eat.

  “What kind is it?” She watched as he set down the bowls.

  “Cream of broccoli,” he said, smiling. “I know you’re not crazy about broccoli, but it’s good for you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I feel like a kid being forced to eat my veggies.” She leaned over the bowl. “Smells good though.”

  Lance sat next to her and took her hand, and they bowed their heads together.

  “Lord, we praise You because You are good. In the midst of sickness and disease and so much we can never understand, You are good, and we pray to keep our focus on You. Thank You for Your beauty in creation and for giving Kendra an eye to capture it and a spirit to enjoy it. And thank You for our time together this evening. I pray You bless it, and bless the food for the nourishment of our bodies—double nourishment for Kendra’s. In Jesus’s name.”

  “Amen.” Kendra looked at him. “Where did you come from? You’re like, this amazing man who dropped into my life, and I’m still trying to figure out how it happened.”

  “I’m not amazing, Ken.” He looked at her. “Don’t even think it, because I’ll disappoint you.”

  She gave him a look as she lowered her head, tasting. “Can I say this soup is amazing?”

  He smiled. “The soup can be amazing.”

  “What’s in here?” she asked. “There’s a nice kick to it.”

  He had a spoonful. “Can’t tell you my secrets.”

  Kendra ate in silence a moment, then said, “So why do you always knock down compliments?”

  He semi-frowned. “The ‘amazing man’ thing? That wasn’t a compliment; that was fantasy.”

  “See what I mean.” Kendra ate mo
re of her soup.

  He rested his spoon. “Kendra, I really want you to have a clear view of me. I’m not trying to be extra humble when I say I’m nothing. I’m just a guy who has to stay desperate for God.” He lifted his spoon, but lowered it again. “And don’t forget, in society’s eyes, I’m a low-life ex-convict. Have you thought about that?”

  “What do you mean, have I thought about that?”

  “It’s so far from who you are and what you’ve known,” Lance said. “Never in a million years would you have seen yourself in a relationship—or whatever we’re calling this—with a former inmate.”

  “And never would you have seen yourself with a terminally ill patient.”

  “That’s different,” he said. “You can’t help that.” He paused. “I’m just saying, my past bothers me sometimes still, so it has to bother you on some level.”

  “No, it doesn’t have to bother me on some level, because it doesn’t.” Kendra stared at him. “It’s not who you are.” She ate more soup. “But now I see why you’re not so amazing.”

  He smirked at her. “Why is that?”

  “Because you let the past plague you.”

  “It doesn’t plague me.”

  “It tells you that you’re not good enough, like you’re the same Lance Alexander who walked into Clayton and thought it was everything to live in Clayton. Or the Lance Alexander who made wrong choices and got locked up.” She cocked her head at him. “You need to put that guy to rest.”

  Lance sat back in his chair, giving it thought. “I think, around you especially, it’s easy to lapse into the past and see myself as the high school boy who would’ve never been good enough for you.”

  “As you say to me . . . stop. Whoever you thought I was, that was a fantasy too. I think you know by now that I’m—what in the world?”

  The doorbell was ringing . . . and ringing and ringing.

  “I don’t think Trey and Molly could be back from the movies yet,” Lance said. “And they have a key anyway.”

  He got up and opened it.

  A snaggletoothed little girl stood on the step, waving. “Hi,” she sang.