I leave them to their making up and head for the cafeteria. My cell phone rings. Stu. I still haven’t made a decision yet concerning him. I mean, I know what I want to do, but just don’t know if I can really do that to him.
“Hi, Stu.”
Turns out I don’t have to make the decision. Stu dumps me right then and there. We have an amicable parting whereby we wish each other well. I’m okay. On the way to the cafeteria, I happen to spot Mrs. Travis at the first-floor nurse’s station.
Her face brightens as soon as she sees me. She takes my hand and turns to the three nurses behind the counter. “This is the woman who saved my Timmy’s life.”
The women smile politely. Somehow, to these nurses who save lives every day, I’m not quite the hero everyone else is making me out to be.
Mrs. Travis tugs on my hand. “Please come and speak with my son. I know he wants to thank you personally.”
“There’s no need for that.” Oh, boy. This is worse than having a fan crying because I sign a book.
“Please. He has wished so many times this week that you’d show up. And here you are.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t come to check on him. I knew he was doing fine because I called the hospital a couple of times during the past week to check on his progress.
“All right,” I finally relent.
We walk slowly, keeping Mrs. Travis’s pace until she turns into a semiprivate room. Tim Travis is sitting up in bed, looking at least twenty pounds lighter than he did the last time I saw him.
“Look who I found in the hallway, Tim.”
He frowns a second, and I feel a little embarrassed. The guy doesn’t even recognize me?
“It’s the woman who gave you mouth-to-mouth.”
Oh, sheesh, now I’m totally blushing.
A smile spreads across his big, good-ol’-boy face. “Oh, yeah. Sure, I remember now.” He holds out his hand and I step forward. I expect a little shake. Instead he pulls me into a big embrace. I clear my throat and avert my gaze when he turns me loose. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you right off. I have a little short-term memory loss from the lack of oxygen to my brain.”
“I understand.”
He frowns. “Who are you?”
I’m about to tell him when he grins. “Just kidding.”
I join his laughter as his mother huffs. “Your condition is nothing to joke about, son.”
He looks at me. “Who is this woman?”
I snort. Mrs. Travis scowls and gives a dismissal wave. “You’re hopeless.”
His eyes twinkle pleasantly as our laughter dies and I take in the sight of all the tubes sticking out of his body. “How are you feeling, Mr. Travis?”
“Please call me Tim. You make me feel old.”
I scrutinize him. If I had to guess I’d say he’s around forty, maybe forty-five. Definitely too young to be having a heart attack. I bet KFC is going to be a place to avoid at all costs from now on.
“Then how are you feeling, Tim?”
“Weak. But alive.”
“I’m glad.”
“I heard you praying.”
Words escape me, so I just nod, which is just as well because Tim’s not done.
“I’ve never been into religion, but as soon as I heard you tell God I couldn’t die without knowing Him, I knew it was true. I asked Him to just give me more time.”
My heart catches in my throat as the sweet presence of the Lord fills the room. I step forward and take Tim’s hand. “Would you like me to introduce you to Him?”
Tears shimmer in his eyes and he nods. Mrs. Travis joins us and takes my other hand. “Me too.”
Shock zips through me. How does a person get to be this old and not know about God? I think about the parable of the vineyard workers. All started at different times of the day and yet each received the same wage when the work was over. That’s how it is with God. You can grow up knowing Him, like Darcy’s baby will, or you can come to God at middle age, like Tim. Or you can wait until you’ve reached your twilight years, like Mrs. Travis. Regardless, your place in heaven is just as secure as the next person’s.
I relate this story to my new friends. I share my Jesus with them, and as I head toward the door a few minutes later, it is with the heady knowledge that God has just performed the greatest heart surgery. He’s removed stony hearts, and has given two new people hearts of flesh.
Mrs. Travis walks me to the door. “You know, my Tim is single.”
“Geez, Ma!”
“Well, you are!”
Impulsively, I reach out and give her a quick hug. “I’m flattered, ma’am. But I’m off the market.”
“You’re not wearing a ring.”
I give her a tentative smile. “Not yet.”
20
At twenty minutes to midnight on July seventh, a full two weeks overdue, a baby girl entered the world and greeted her parents, Rick and Darcy Frank. Two hours later, she greeted her very sleepy brothers and sister. And a very relieved Aunt (good grief) Claire.
“So, what’s her name?” Ari asks, as she sits in the courtesy rocker and stares down at her wrinkly new baby sister.
Darcy looks on with maternal adoration. “I was thinking Claire.”
I gasp, and Rick and I both say “No!” at the same time.
Darcy gives us a twinkly-eyed grin. “Gotcha.”
“You little trickster,” Rick says, and tweaks her nose like she’s a little girl. Gross.
“So, really, what’s her name?” I ask.
“I was thinking Lydia. I’ve always loved that name.”
I reach for Lydia and take her from my protesting daughter. She’s an angel. And I adore her already. “Come to Auntie Claire,” I coo, fully aware that I am now in too deep. Darcy has worn me down with her love for me. She’s become a true friend. Some folks might think this baby has joined our two families together, but that’s not entirely true. Darcy has.
I place Lydia into her mother’s waiting arms, and bending over, I press a kiss to the baby’s temporarily cone-shaped head. Then I maneuver around the infant to give Darcy a hug. “You did great, Darce.”
She beams. “Yeah.”
“I had a little something to do with it, too,” Rick says. Then he blushes, so I spare him the sarcastic retort that’s on the tip of my tongue. “You did good, too, slugger.” I slide a glance to Darcy. “I’ll say one thing for him. At least he makes pretty babies.”
“You got that right,” she returns, without skipping a beat.
“Oh, gross, you guys,” Ari groans. “Can we just go home? Jake’s falling asleep in the chair.”
None of us rises before ten the next morning. That’s the great thing about summer and Saturdays. No one is in any big hurry to get up and get cracking. I slowly wake up to the sound of the doorbell.
Swinging my legs around, I make my way downstairs. A delivery guy stands there with a box of flowers. He looks me over and I can only imagine the view he’s getting. “Late sleeper?”
“Late night.” Smart aleck. I’m tempted not to tip him, but the thought of who those flowers are from perks me up and I grab a five out of the emergency bowl on the table next to the door.
He gives me an obnoxious wink. “Enjoy the flowers.”
“Jerk,” I mutter, as I close the door and head into the kitchen. Mom’s in there.
“Why didn’t you get the door?”
“I was reading my Bible. Besides, I figured it was time you got up.” She looks at the box. “From Greg?”
“I’d imagine.” I slide off the ribbon. I’ve never gotten a dozen long-stemmed roses. And they are exquisite. Tenderly I remove one and bring it to my nose. I close my eyes and inhale the heady scent.
I pull out the card and take it and my roses to my office where I can read it alone.
Wear a dress and be ready at seven tonight.
I pick up the phone and dial his number. His voice is low and husky as he says, “Hello.”
“I just
got a gorgeous box of roses. Know who they might be from?”
“Who is this?” But I can hear laughter in his voice.
“They’re beautiful.”
“And so are you.” I feel a little guilty that I set him up for that, especially since my hair is sticking up and I don’t have one speck of makeup on my face. I’m so not beautiful.
“Did you read the card?”
“Yes, and you know I hate dresses.”
“Wear one anyway.”
“What if I don’t have one to wear?”
“How about that little black number you wore for Linda and Mark’s second wedding?”
I forgot about that. “All right. I can do that. Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out. Just wear the dress, and let me take care of the rest.”
I float through the day, preparing for my date with Greg. Somehow, he’s figured out that I’m ready to be his wife, come hell or high water. Or in this case: whether he’s a pastor or not.
The dress is a little snug, darn it. Not so tight it’s cutting off the blood circulation, but definitely a wake-up call. I pull on the three-inch strappy sandals Linda forced me to buy. Then, because there are still thirty minutes until Greg picks me up, I call her. I haven’t spent that much time with my friend this summer. She’s been busy decorating her new house, and I’ve been busy trying to get mine fixed. But I know I must speak with my best friend and analyze what will happen on the date.
“I’m so happy!” she exults, when I tell her about the flowers and the date. “I’ve been praying for this.”
“I’m wearing the dress we got for your wedding.”
A throaty laugh escapes her. “I knew that dress would come in handy again. Don’t forget to wear the heels.”
“Got them.”
“Claire, I know you’re going to be exactly the wife Greg needs. So stop worrying!”
“If only I could.” I’m still not one hundred percent convinced, but I figure if this is something he’s got to do, then I’m going to do it, too. After all, like Tina said (and she’s been a pastor’s wife for twenty years, so she should know), I don’t have to do anything I’m not called to do. Just love and support my husband.
The bell rings at exactly seven o’clock. I open the door for Greg. Decked out in a new black suit, banded collared shirt underneath. No tie. He looks incredible. I’d like to tell him so, but the kids are milling around the living room so there’s no chance for a private word. Plus, it’s a little hard to think about romance when Tommy is crunching Doritos and laughing at The Three Stooges marathon playing on the Superstation. Catchy game music is playing from Jakey’s handheld Game Boy, and Shawn is practicing lines. Auditions for Oklahoma! begin in a month. Ari is leaning against the entryway between the kitchen and living room, arms folded loosely across her chest. She watches me with a quirky grin and I know she’s as hopeful about this evening as I am.
In the midst of my chaos, Greg’s gaze pulls me away as it sweeps over my dress. Tenderness and admiration shine from his eyes as they lock onto mine.
“Humph!” Tenderness and admiration, however, are the last things shining from Sadie’s eyes. The little girl is sending unsubtle death rays from beneath her bristly dark lashes. I toss Ari a “you sure you can handle her?” raised-brow look. My daughter grins. Oh yeah. She can manage the little monster.
“Come on, Sadie. We’re making cookies and watching a movie.” Good. Take command. Don’t ask her, tell her what you’re doing. Brave move. I watch with paused breath to see if Sadie will be stubborn or give in.
Sadie eyes her. “What kind of cookies?”
“You’ll just have to come to the kitchen and find out.”
With a long-suffering eye roll, Sadie deposits her little pink plastic purse onto the coffee table and heads toward the kitchen.
“Kiss me good-bye, honey,” Greg says.
Sadie huffs and whips around. She gives him a grudging peck on the cheek, shoots me a glare, and follows Ari into the kitchen.
I can’t help but be a bit dubious about the night. But Greg doesn’t seem concerned.
I grab my purse from the end table next to Jakey’s chair. He never even looks up. I kiss his head, then turn back to Greg. “You sure Sadie’s going to be all right here with my kids?”
“Sure she will. Once she starts mixing up cookie dough, she’ll forget all about being left out of our date.”
“Not to be nosy or anything, but did your mom have plans tonight that kept her from keeping Sadie?”
“You could say that. No more questions.” He bends and presses a kiss to my lips.
“All right, all right,” Tommy pipes up. “You guys take it outside. I’m eating here.”
“Sorry, man.” Greg chuckles, then turns his attention back to me. “Ready to go?”
Is he kidding? I tell the boys good-bye and precede him as he opens the door and steps aside like the gentleman he is.
“Where are we going?” I ask, after we settle into his Avalanche and he starts the motor.
“I thought I said no questions.”
“I know, but can’t you give me a teeny-tiny hint?”
“Nope. I want you to be surprised.”
Ten minutes later he has no idea how surprised I am as we pull up in front of his mother’s house. Disappointment sweeps over me. “You made me wear a dress for dinner at your mom’s?”
I cringe at my pouty tone. Good grief. I’m worse than Sadie.
“I’ll make it worth your while. Just wait.”
He opens the truck door for me. My heels click-clack up the brick walk to the porch. My legs are wobbly, and I’m about to lose my battle with the three-inch heels because the warmth from Greg’s palm seeping through the back of my dress is making me weak-kneed as he guides me up the steps. Thankfully, he drops his hand and unlocks the door, which is the only reason, I’m sure, that I don’t land on my face.
He sweeps me through the house and straight to the dining room. The beautiful cherry-wood dining-room table glimmers in the candlelight. I catch my breath. Two plates covered by sterling silver domes are in place, along with a pitcher of tea. Greg doesn’t drink wine, which would have been a lot more romantic than tea. But I can’t help but be glad he chose the tea rather than going with a wine substitute just to be romantic. Sparkling cider in wine-shaped bottles always feels a little junior high to me.
I hear a door close somewhere in the house and I jerk around.
“Get that worried look off your face. That was just my mom leaving.”
“She didn’t have to do that!”
He pulls me close. “Yes, she did.”
Without a word, I surrender to his embrace. I wrap my arms around his neck as his mouth covers mine and I absolutely melt into his kiss. I could stay here forever, I really could. I love this man so much. How could I have ever listened to Emma Carrington? The wacko, yoga-doing, higher power (but not necessarily God)-believing life coach. What was I thinking? What would she know about God ordering a person’s life? About God equipping a woman to stand beside her husband in the ministry and support him? Why did I waste so much time listening to a lie?
Way too soon Greg pulls away and seats me in a cushiony dining-room chair. Which is just as well, because after that kiss, my legs are about to give out on me.
Instead of sitting in his own chair, he drops to one knee in front of me.
My heart pounds so loud in my ears that I’m afraid I might not get to hear the actual proposal that only a moron wouldn’t be able to figure out is coming.
“I know you still haven’t figured out where your career is going,” he begins. “I know you’re not in your house yet, and I know you’re not altogether crazy about the idea that I’m going to be a pastor. But I think when you find the kind of love and companionship that we have, you have to stop trying to wait for everything to be just right and step out in faith.”
He takes the velvet box from his pocket. “You’re the only woman for me, Claire. N
ow and for the rest of my life. I love you too much to let you go. Maybe it’s selfish of me to even ask this knowing your reservations, but will you marry me?”
Well, what’s a girl to say when she’s looking at a princess-cut rock being offered by the man she loves? “Yes.” And there it is. Short, sweet, to the point. And it takes an incredible weight off my heart to finally say it.
His jaw drops a little, and a smile splits his handsome face. “Are you sure?”
I nod and, I must admit, my eyes are watery with unshed tears. I cup his cheek and look deeply into his eyes. “I’m still carrying some emotional baggage from Rick’s unfaithfulness. It might take awhile before I completely trust you. And I can’t promise I won’t say something stupid and single-handedly bring down your ministry. Or if I don’t bring it down completely, I’m for sure going to embarrass you at some point.”
He laughs. “I know you, Claire. I know you have insecurities because of the past. I want to be the man to prove that not only can a man be faithful, but that you are more than enough for me. I could never want anyone else.”
There is no denying the sincerity of his words. “I believe you mean that, Greg.” And I do. At this moment anyway. Even as relief crosses his face, I feel I have to press. “But what about the rest of what I said?”
“Oh, honey. Don’t worry so much. You say the right thing a lot more often than you say the wrong thing.”
Oh, if only that were true. “What about that time when I laughed so hard at poor Mr. Cain’s incontinence?”
Greg’s lips twist, and I can tell he’s trying to keep back a grin. I slug him in the arm. “See? That’s the kind of stuff I do.”
“First of all, you didn’t laugh at Eddie’s incontinence, only the way he told about it. And believe me, you weren’t the only one fighting to keep a straight face that day.”
That’s little consolation since, if memory serves, I’m the only one who actually gave in to the moment of weakness.
“So you’re not perfect.” He takes my hand once more. “But you’re perfect for me.”
He keeps his dark gaze on me while he slips the cool ring on my finger and wraps his hand around mine. Rising on his knees, he meets me at eye level and I meet him in the middle. His lips cover mine and I can feel the tension in the muscles of his neck as my arms wrap around his neck. It’s a kiss of com-mitment, confirmation, definitely passion. I understand when he breaks our embrace a moment later.
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