by C. B. Stagg
“I consider that a high compliment.”
“Christian… ” She paused and drew in a few deep breaths. It was the first time she’d used my first name. “I need to confess something.”
I met her gaze and noticed she was no longer crying. In fact, the meek, submissive preacher’s wife I’d known her to be was gone, and in her place was a woman with fierce determination in her eyes.
“Tell me anything.” What brought on this abrupt change?
“She didn’t die.” My eyebrows crept up into my hairline as I allowed her admission to fully sink in. “She ran away from home. I guess she could be dead, but I don’t think she is. I think I would feel it, you know? In here.” She patted her chest a few times. “I’m sick of treating her like she’s dead. She’s not. She wanted to get away from him.”
What in the world have I gotten myself into?
“So, just so I know I heard you correctly… your daughter is, in fact, not dead?” Janice shook her head, and I ran my fingers through my hair. This was turning out to be one heck of a night.
“John made that story up. As soon as she ran, we did too. Within a few months, John had secured this position, so we packed up, moved here, and became a childless couple with a dead daughter. ”
“Okay. Well, thank you for trusting me with such an important part of your story. Now, what exactly do you want me to do with this information?” I told her she could tell me anything, but the resurrection of a dead daughter was one thing I hadn’t been prepared for.
She shrugged with a deep sigh. “I have no idea, but it feels great to finally tell someone.” I could tell. She looked ten years younger than she had just half an hour before. “I would like to try and find her one day. Maybe you can help me?”
I nodded, relieved she hadn’t asked me to help her launch an investigation right away. My private investigator skills were minimal at best, but with social media it may not be as difficult a feat as she thought. I needed time to digest this new little plot twist, though, and she didn’t seem like she was in too much of a rush.
“Okay, let me think on it a little. Now, let’s get these dishes done before Pastor John comes home.”
Janice’s appreciative smile told its own story, and for the fifteen minutes it took us to clean up from dinner, I wondered how different the woman beside me may have been with a man who saw her as his equal and not a subservient being. It made me appreciate the relationship modeled for my brothers and me by our own parents, and I made a mental note to always show my future wife all the love and respect she deserves.
Chapter 16
Kaitlin
“PUSH THOSE TABLES TOGETHER, will ya, hon?”
It was a little early to rearrange the diner which meant something was up. With only one cup of coffee in my system, I merely grunted in response. I hated morning people.
“Don’t be like that, Katy. We have a group that’s going to start meeting here weekly, and they requested you serve them. This could be a great money-making opportunity for you.”
“Me?” I stopped, mid table slide. “Why me?”
She smiled in response.
It was Tuesday morning. Tuesday mornings were blah. It was the day I gave the stools a good scrub, dusted the blinds, and washed all the face and handprints off the windows by the booths, which were left by grimy kids. It was typically the slowest morning of the week.
Oh well, I’d find out soon enough.
Right around nine, the older men started trickling through the door in groups of two or three. They were a happy group, quick to order coffee and extremely complimentary of our establishment. I was grateful Cara Jo had anticipated the need and brewed a double batch a few minutes before the flood. When the numbers started crawling into the double digits, I ran to the kitchen to grab another tray of mugs. Upon returning, a familiar face had joined the group, and the smile that cracked my face in two, upon meeting his deep blue eyes, happened as automatically as my next breath.
“Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Miss Katy.” Christian swept his hand in my general direction, and my impromptu curtsy was met with a gentle rumble of throaty laughter. “She’ll be the poor soul taking care of us each week. But don’t let her innocent smile fool you. She may look sweet, but she packs a punch, so no getting out of line.”
He narrowed his eyes to focus on one man. “I’m looking at you, Lorne.” The men erupted into more good-natured laughter, the loudest coming from the man in question, who was perched in a wheelchair and had to be a hundred years old if he was a day.
“She won’t even blink at kicking us out if we get too rowdy.” Christian clapped his strong hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. “So, you think we can join together in fellowship and worship while also showing Miss Katy we weren’t raised in barns?”
All smiles, the men held up their mugs in a mock toast, and I scurried around, taking orders and pouring coffee for thirty minutes straight while listening to Christian’s deep voice read the Word of God. He spoke on 1 Corinthians 16: 13-14.
‘Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.’
The man was perfection on every level.
He seamlessly conducted a deep and meaningful discussion about faith, courage, and love with the more than thirty men he’d invited to join him. His words, warm and uplifting, laced with hope, were in direct contrast with the Bible-beating church experience of my youth.
Halfway through the discussion, Roy wandered out of the kitchen, a rare event in itself. Roy was an introvert by definition of the word, so seeing him move a chair to sit on the fringe of the group made me smile. But what he carried in his hands stole my breath.
As Christian asked everyone to bow their heads, Roy lifted his old, worn-out acoustic guitar to his lap. Being an accomplished singer/songwriter, the man treated his instrument like it was made of glass. The roundback cherry Ovation was Roy’s pride and joy. He always said it sang like an angel. When he softly starting strumming the opening chords to Come Thy Fount—creating a breathtaking soundtrack to Christian’s strong, smooth words of prayer—I understood his meaning completely.
Not even one of the men startled at the sudden sound of music. But as Christian came to a close, Roy’s beautiful music continued, only louder, and the men joined in with words, stopping my heart.
This is what church should be. This is worship. The sermons of my childhood were built on a foundation of fear and intimidation, but Christian’s teachings were born of pure and simple love.
By the end of the two-hour block, I was physically beat, but my spirits had been lifted infinitely. Taking a quick break, I propped myself up in the doorway—out of the view of the men, but close enough to hear—and listened to him pray with the men individually. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And I was falling. Fast.
“Now that’s a voice I wouldn’t mind singing me to sleep at night, that’s for sure.” Cara Jo had snuck up beside me, and I nodded, agreeing with her completely. “That face isn’t too bad either.”
I giggled, nothing more than a whisper. “And what about that body?” My eyes swept up and down, taking in the neatly pressed khaki slacks and the maroon polo hugging his muscles like a second skin.
She elbowed me in the ribs. “And you forgot about those lips.”
I smiled and shook my head, watching his lips turn up into a smile at something one of the men said. “Oh, no, I didn’t.” Looking at his lips, I licked my own. “I’ll never forget those lips.” I’m sure the smile on my face betrayed any secrets I may or may not have been keeping to myself.
The men said their goodbyes to each other with hearty handshakes and slaps on the back, all of them stopping to thank me over and over for the great service with promises to see me next week. When the dining room was finally empty, only Christian remained.
“Can I help you with this mess?”
Not waiting for an answer, he started loading dishes into my grey bussing tub, and I let him, willi
ng time to freeze. Being with Christian was like reading a fantastic book. When I knew I was getting to the end, I’d sit there and mentally will more pages to appear, terrified the next one may be the last and I’d have reached an end I wasn’t ready for. With him, I found myself willing more minutes so I could bask in his presence. I would never be ready for our time together to end.
With the mess cleared, Christian packed his worn-out, leather-bound Bible into his bag, and I walked him toward the door. “Here.” He placed an envelope into my hands.
“What’s this?” Its thickness surprised me, reminiscent of the medical bills I’d receive each time Waverly was hospitalized for a hernia surgery or an infection she couldn’t beat on her own.
Christian’s face was red, and he struggled to meet my eyes. “We collected an offering today. When I was asking for prayer requests, I mentioned a little about Waverly’s situation, and the men all agreed the offering at our Tuesday morning coffees would go to help you with Waverly’s medical expenses.”
I opened the envelope to see twenties, fifties, and even a few hundreds sandwiched between five and ten-dollar bills. I shook my head. “You’re serious?” I was hard-pressed to say the last time I’d seen that much money in one place. Looking up at Christian, he nodded and took a step closer to me.
“I want to help. We want to help.” He put his hands over mine, and it sizzled through me again, a pull making me want to fall into this amazing man. “Let us do this for you.” I placed the money on the nearest table and fell into Christian’s arms, where I stayed for several minutes. I sighed, contented, soaking in the warmth of his body and inhaling his delicious, soapy scent mingling beautifully with the coffee lingering in the air of the diner.
Pulling back, I looked into his eyes. “You are such a good man, Christian Clark. And a good friend.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead, pausing an intimate length of time. “For now, Katy. For now.”
I stood on my toes, cupped his jaw in my hands, and placed my lips on his, pausing for the same intimate length of time.
“For now, Christian.”
It wasn’t until a short time later, I noticed a simple yellow Post-it note stuck to the table where Christian had been sitting. On it was written, Your heart knows things your mind can’t always explain.
Forget falling.
I was sinking.
Like the Titanic.
Chapter 17
Christian
June 2012
BlindDate.org Interactive Message
TO: MemberID 041586CC
FROM: MemberID 062789WC
Preacher Man,
I love that you are a man of the cloth because I’ve been a bad, bad little kitten. What would you do to a bad little kitty like me? Will you make me kneel before you? Maybe spank me a little? Oh, I may even need to be tied up I’ve been so bad. In fact, just my thoughts of you alone will surely send me straight to hell.
I may need to come visit you at work. I need to make a confession for all my naughty thoughts. But I’ll warn you now, your confessional may combust with how hot my fantasies are. Are you ready to meet your naughty little nun? Message me back to start my punishment.
Let’s Do It!
WhipsNChainsOK
IT TOOK ME A GOOD WHILE, and several hundred clicks of the mouse, but I finally found the settings menu of BlindDate.org and cancelled my membership. It had been six long months, and all I’d learned was what I didn’t want in a mate. It also helped to open my eyes to what was right in front of me.
My men’s Bible study group that met at Perrilloux’s Diner on Tuesday mornings grew each week. The men loved the vintage, mid-twentieth century atmosphere the diner provided, evocative of their youth I was certain. The food was delicious—like something straight out of Mom’s kitchen—and the coffee was strong. I also suspected the charming young waitress didn’t hurt the turnout one little bit.
Roy and his guitar continued to join us, and soon it became commonplace for Waverly to tag along with him for the first part of the meeting, sometimes even staying to eat breakfast with the men. Lorne was her favorite, and after they’d share an order of flapjacks or biscuits soaked in sausage gravy, he’d roll around the diner in his wheelchair with her in his lap, while she pretended to drive a racecar.
My favorite days, though, were the ones where Waverly helped serve alongside her mom. She even had a little apron that matched Katy’s. And while they may not share many of the same features, Waverly’s mannerisms were a carbon copy.
I always stayed for a while after the men left, usually helping Katy clear away our mess. We’d talk about mundane things like the weather or what she was learning in class. But for each word she said, a thousand were left unspoken, and I was learning to hear those too. She was mature beyond her years and cautious of opening herself up, but everything in me said I was starting to break through the fortress she’d built around her heart. My progress was slow, a simple kiss to say goodbye, but each time my lips touched hers, another bit of the wall came down.
Through conversations with Roy, I was able to glean a few more details about the mysterious being whose face filled my dreams, both day and night. Those talks gave me some insight into what had shaped Katy into the woman she was. One random, summer day, she’d appeared out of nowhere—pregnant, scared, and alone—without much to her name.
In Roy’s eyes, Katy and Waverly were under his protection. He took his job seriously, which made me curious about her family beyond the walls of the diner. I think he surprised himself at the amount of information he shared with me each day. He always walked to the back, shaking his head, and mumbled about how he needed to keep a tighter rein on his tongue. It was my hope that he knew I could be trusted with her story. After all, we had a common goal. We both wanted only the best for those two.
The more I learned about Katy and Waverly—the girls as I liked to call them—the more I wished they were mygirls. I wanted terribly to claw and fight my way out of the ‘friend zone’ she’d locked me into, so she could see how much I cared and how great we’d be together. But out of respect for Katy, I didn’t. I did, however, make myself accessible in every way possible. She knew where to find me and how to reach me should she decide she wanted something more. There was little else I could do but be the best friend a girl could want, and hope and pray one day soon she’d open her heart fully and let me in.
Chapter 18
Christian
July 2012
I HAD PRAYED FOR KATY every night since meeting her and most days, too. I’d spoken with God in-depth about what I could do to help my girls.
My first appointment, several months prior, was with a urologist, who then referred me to a nephrologist. Before long, I’d made it all the way up to the transplant coordinator. Blood pressure was taken, weight was measured, and blood was drawn and drawn and drawn… to the point I was convinced they were really a team of vampires. Urine was tested, and tested, and tested again, but all to what end, I was still unsure. All I knew was, I’d met an amazing little girl who’d stolen my heart, and she needed a miracle in the form of a kidney. As luck would have it, I had two and was more than willing to share my spare.
One sunny, summer afternoon, I popped into the diner after another round of blood draws and urine checks at the hospital close to Perrilloux’s. I made my way in as another group was exiting, and snuck into my favorite booth completely undetected. Within a minute, Katy came out from the back carrying a large order on her shoulder. When she spotted me, her steps faltered slightly, but she continued on. The way the corners of her mouth turned up when our eyes met, did not escape me.
“What can I get you this afternoon?” I’d been perusing a menu I’d long since memorized, patiently waiting for my few minutes of Katy’s attention.
“How about five minutes with my favorite waitress?” Her eyes rolled back in her head, but I pulled out the boyish grin—a secret superpower I possessed that she was not
immune to—and she plopped right down. I checked my watch. She had fifteen more minutes, and I had all the time in the world. “Can I take you out for a late lunch?” Insert round two of boyish grin.
“I’ve already eaten.” She sat up straighter in the booth, eyes downcast on her fidgety hands. So I reached across the table and tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet mine.
“Then how about frozen yogurt? A milkshake?” I sat back. “I have to go to Dallas for a weeklong conference that starts tomorrow. I don’t care where we go, Katy. I just want to spend time with you before I have to leave you for a week.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m not going to bite you, I promise. I just… ” I ran my hands down my tired face, trying to understand the frustrating, beautiful girl sitting in front of me. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I—” she stuttered, then stopped, covering her mouth as tears spilled over her bottom lashes. I scooted into her side of the booth, pulling the lost girl into my arms. Shushing her quietly, I ran my hands up and down her back. She shook her head and tried to pull away, but I held her closer, never wanting to let go.
“Stay beside me a while. Tell me what’s wrong.”
The sight of her crying ripped my guts out, and I wanted nothing more than to be the solution to all her problems, but I feared I may have been the cause. She stayed and steadied her breathing for a few more minutes while I inhaled the smell of coconut shampoo mixed with bacon, a scent unique only to her. I had it bad.
When she finally attempted to find her own space, I loosened my grip and watched her wipe the tears from her cheeks, wanting more than anything to do it for her. I couldn’t take it any longer. Her pain was mine, and the emotions I felt when I was with her were too much to bear.