by Jody Day
“What is it, sweetie?” She pulled my head onto her shoulder.
“It’s Scott. He broke up with me.” No tears would come, but the shivering began again.
Mom simply sighed and pulled me closer.
“I know he loves me, and so I didn’t take it too seriously. Maybe I should have. Mom, I could almost see fear with two hands around his throat choking the life out of him.” Now the tears came.
“It’s normal for a heart attack victim to experience fear. Toppy thinks it’s combining with the fear he experienced when his mother got sick, then Paul. He’s never really grieved.”
“I can see that now. He certainly helped hold me together during my ordeal. He didn’t deal with his own raging heart while trying to be there for me. I’ve prayed all morning for him, and now I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“That he’s right. That we won’t get married after all. Mom, I love him so much.” I let my hurt dissolve me.
She held me as I sobbed, rocking me gently back and forth.
I lifted my head and attempted to gain composure. “Whether we marry or not, I still have to fight for him. He can’t go on like this. What do I do?”
“You amaze me, dear. He’s broken your engagement, yet you are still concerned for him. I don’t sense even a hint of anger in you. That’s a pretty deep love.” She slipped her coat off and wrapped it around my shoulders.
I stood and began pacing. “What do I do? Should I move in with you, or go back to the apartment with Mandy and Macy?”
“You keep praying for Scott. Stand your ground. Didn’t you promise to stay through this fall? You have several weekends booked at the inn. I suggest you just keep praying, do your job, and wait. Toppy and I are praying too. I think Toppy has some kind of plan for intervention.”
“Intervention? What do you mean?”
“He’s been talking to Pastor Weatherby. He’s passing through here soon, and he said he’d talk to Scott. We’ll pray toward that meeting. In the meantime, dry your tears, and let’s kick this fear out of here.” She grabbed my hand and started praying. “Father, we don’t know what will happen, but we put it all in Your hands. You haven’t given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love, and a sound mind. Please give Scott the power to overcome his fears. He needs a sound mind in all these things. He has plenty of love, but it’s muddled with his grief and heartbreak. You are his healer. Father, You are his God. Please reach out to the Holy Spirit in him and remind him that he belongs to You, not to fear. I pray that he will let his grief come out, that he will talk to Toppy and Pastor Weatherby. Bless them with the insight to minister to him.”
Peace found its way into my heart again. Determination ran through my body like electric current. I stood and joined Mom.
“I agree, Father, and I add to those prayers that You please give me strength. Help me to know what to do. What to say, or not to say. I’m willing to wait, but in the meantime, let me be a help, not a hindrance. Help me not to give in to fear, and help Scott to recognize his true heart, and let You heal it. And, please, Father, help us find my necklace.”
Together we prayed, “In Jesus name.”
“I was going to pray for you, but you took care of that yourself.” Mom smiled and then embraced me.
I leaned into her arms and released a deep, cleansing breath.
“You lost your necklace? I hadn’t noticed that. It sometimes hides under your blouses.”
“I took it off because it had a little knot and tangled my hair. I know I put it on the coffee table in the inn. I’ve looked everywhere, even places where I know it can’t be. I’ve been fighting against destructive thoughts about it. Thoughts that maybe it’s a sign that I’m losing everything again.”
“No way, remember how we just prayed? I felt an incredible peace come over my heart, and the good Lord doesn’t give that without reason.” Mom gave a declarative pat to my knee and let her hand rest there.
“It’s not over yet, but I do feel better, more confident. That old devil wants to ruin our lives, but I won’t let him.” I put my hand on hers.
“You’ve grown so much these last months. You could look at this struggle as a good thing.” She pulled me to a stand.
“A good thing?” A battle, yes, but one I’d rather not have to fight.
“Scott will conquer this in the Lord’s ways and in His time. He’ll be a much better husband because of it.”
“I’ll take that.” I squeezed her hand. “Let’s go in, and I’ll make you some coffee.”
“Sounds good to me, then I’m headed back to work.”
“Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“You’ll always be my little girl. Don’t worry, that necklace will turn up.”
~*~
I turned the heat on in the inn after Mom left. I needed to get focused on the work of the day. Under the circumstances, I’d probably not show up at the diner for work. My commitment had been to the inn, and at the inn I would stay.
The appointment book lay open on Shelley’s desk. Three weekends booked from Thanksgiving until the week before Christmas. My now-postponed December 21st wedding would be a working weekend. The large family scheduled for that weekend would keep me busy. Good. Three children and Christmas. There’d be plenty to occupy my mind.
With Thanksgiving only three days away, I’d clean the inn from top to bottom, inside and out. Only one couple was booked for the night before Thanksgiving, one room, but vigorous cleaning would help keep my mind busy.
Joel and Cindi Cummings, on furlough from the mission field in the Philippines, had booked that one night. It would be fun to talk to them. Gran had loved to support missionaries. She’d often invited them to stay at Pinewood Manor when they’d visited her church.
A phrase Gran often said trailed through my mind. “Of all things that ever were or ever shall be. It’s beyond me, but God is in control.”
17
I’d cleaned every corner of the inn. My eyes watered from bleach or crying, I wasn’t sure which, but I plopped down on the front room couch with a thud, dabbing at my eyes with a ragged tissue.
I picked up the crochet bag and pulled Scott’s wedding present across my lap. Hope made me think of working on it. But if each color represented an event in our life, how should I finish it? If only I could find my cross necklace. I knew it didn’t have any power, but I’d grown accustomed to reaching for what it stood for.
I saw her coming.
Tracy marched up the front porch steps and rapped hard, with a frantic staccato.
“Come in.” I pushed the unfinished crochet project to the side. Had she heard about the breakup? It had to be talked about, I guess, but I didn’t want to now.
She rushed in, dropped her purse and slid to the floor, both hands on my knees. “Why aren’t you at work? Why does Scott look so upset? Is something wrong? What’s going on?” She could barely catch her breath, but erupted with questions.
“Slow down.” I pulled her from the floor to sit beside me. “Take a deep breath.”
The red-faced girl took one giant breath, and then started asking again. “Has he had bad news? I mean he looks awful, all droopy and in a bad mood. Please, Bailey, it’s killing me.”
“As far as I know, he’s physically fine, but he’s struggling with fear. I think he’s afraid he might die, and so he broke up with me.” Tears would not obey my resolve. They trickled out, but I tried to keep my voice calm. “The wedding is off.”
Her eyes grew wide, with large teardrops pooling and spilling over. Her mouth dropped open.
“Tracy, breathe. He’ll be all right, and so will I.” Would I? Would he?
“No way. I understand, but there’s just no living way this is happening, I mean not happening. I mean the wedding, the marriage. It’s meant to be. How can you be so calm?” She crossed her arms, leaned back and looked me over.
“Believe me; I’ve had some rough hours. I’m pretty hurt, but I’ve spent a lot of time prayi
ng, and I can only trust God. I don’t really understand anything, except that Scott’s scared. He may come around. But I can’t wait for that.”
“What do you mean ‘you can’t wait for that?’ Are you giving up on him? Come on, Bailey.” Her voice shook.
“Of course not. I’ll never give up on him. I just think that part of his healing may be not having to worry about me anymore.”
“I’m more worried about him without you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Honestly, I go back and forth, honey, one minute yes, the next no. But I’m dealing with it. I could use your prayers.”
“What will you do?” She put her arm around me. Her mascara made raccoon eyes and black speckled streaks down her cheeks.
“I’d originally promised to stay through the fall. So after Christmas I’m moving back to town with Mandy and Macy if they’ll have me.” The washing machine dinged a finished cycle. Relieved to pop out of this conversation, I jumped to my feet. “I’ll be right back.” I prayed all the way down the hall, switched out the laundry, and prayed all the way back. I steeled myself against her certain protests.
Oddly, she just sat there with her eyes closed. She must need to leave soon, for she hugged her purse to her chest. I slipped next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. “God’s got this, Tracy. We’ll all be OK. I don’t know how yet, but somehow it will.”
“You’re right, it will.”
The determination in her voice sounded a little more like Scott would come to his senses, and we’d all live happily ever after. Poor thing, I hated how this hurt her. How it would hurt everyone.
A little spunk returned to her eyes as she gave me a hug squishing her purse between us. “I have to go. If you’re not coming to work today, I’d better see if Scott needs me. Just enjoy being lazy around here.” She clutched her purse close and stood.
“I have guests arriving, so I’ve been cleaning. I guess I’ll get back to that.” I walked her to the door.
“So, how’s that wedding present coming along? The lap blanket for Scott?” She pointed to the afghan on the couch, and spoke softly, as though afraid to remind me of it.
The tears came despite my best efforts. My bravery faltered, and my hand flew to my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt Tracy’s arms encircle me, her purse dropping to the floor.
“I don’t know what color to make the last three rows. I had thought white for our wedding, but now,” I began, struggling to regain composure.
She placed both hands on my shoulders and faced me, eyes blazing. “It will be all right, my friend. Don’t you worry. Finish it, and with white.”
I squeezed tears from my eyes, and now I was sure we both looked like raccoons. A deep breath and a quick prayer pulled me back together. I gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks. Hope you don’t have to pull many doubles. I just can’t be over there right now.”
“Of course not. I understand.”
“And Tracy? Please don’t be hard on Scott. He’s really suffering.”
“No, I get it. He may be the boss, but I’m taking all this to the Boss.” She pointed to the heavens as she scooped her purse from the floor. She bounced out the door, pony tail swaying and mumbling in Spanish. “Habrá una boda! Y en el día señalado. Scott es una locura!” She walked away quickly.
I don’t know what she said. But I thought ‘boda’ meant wedding, and something about Scott being crazy. Poor Tracy.
Poor Scott.
~*~
The missionaries arrived at Shelley’s Heart early in the morning, the day before Thanksgiving.
I met them at the door. “Welcome to Shelley’s Heart.” I’d intended to help them with their bags, but Joel had only one small suitcase.
“Thank you. I’m Joel and this is my wife, Cindi.” He shook my hand.
I liked his open smile, but his eyelids drooped.
“Hi,” Cindi said. “This place looks wonderful.” She ran her hand over the arm of a porch rocker with a longing gaze. Her shoulders slumped.
“You didn’t have to dress up just for me, but that’s a pretty outfit. Suit and tie not required here.” I opened the door and let them pass through.
“Thanks, I made it,” Cindi touched her collar. The bodice had a row of the tiniest buttons. Her smile turned to a yawn as she loosened the belt on her sage green dress.
“We just came from church. Two presentations today.” Joel loosened his navy blue tie and unbuttoned his light blue suit coat. “Cindi and I both spoke, both services. We’re kind of ragged out.” He put his arm around Cindi.
“Of course, long day. Here’s your room. It’s called the Sweetheart Room.” I led them inside.
Both guests gazed around the room taking in their surroundings.
Cindi’s eyes fell on the bed, and another, bigger yawn enveloped her. “Sorry, as you said, long day.” She clasped her hand over her mouth.
“There’s fresh coffee, and tea or hot chocolate, plus some homemade chocolate chip cookies if you’d like. I’ll leave you to get comfortable.” I stepped out of the room. The door closed behind me. I thought ‘furlough’ meant ‘rest.’ Had they been speaking the whole time since they’d landed stateside?
Their rest time gave me a perfect opportunity to run some errands in town. The Phoebe purse had to be dropped off, and I needed to restock my coffee supply. The diner had plenty, but I wasn’t going there.
Phoebe certainly dressed up Mr. Ballard’s office. She talked on the phone as I entered and dripped her super southern accent all over whoever listened on the other end. Perfect, I’d just set the purse with the letter from Darryl inside and slip away. No.
“Bailey, darling! How wonderful for you to visit. Ah, my purse!” She took it from my hands and snatched it open. She thumbed through its contents until she found something she wanted, breathed a sigh of relief, and snapped it shut again. She opened her desk drawer and dropped it in. Was she looking for that letter, and wondering if I’d seen it? Even read it?
“I’m sorry for your trouble, but at least it gave me the chance to go and buy all new makeup. I got this job so fast I haven’t had time to run by. I hope Scott wasn’t too disappointed that I turned down his offer.” She sat in her desk chair, pushed it back from the desk, and crossed her legs.
“Uh, his offer?”
“I went to see him the day he was released from the hospital. He informed me that I was overqualified for waitressing, but he’d check on management for me. I decided I’d rather work in town. Your Mr. Ballard needed a replacement.”
“Temporary.” This girl could embellish a story with the best of them.
“What?”
“He needs a temporary replacement. His secretary will be back in a few weeks.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that,” she said, winking.
Mr. Ballard was an honorable man. I hated to think of how this would end for Phoebe. But that was none of my business. He could certainly handle this feminine bundle of trouble much better than I could.
“I’ll see you later, Phoebe.” I turned to leave, but that pitiable scene from the diner that day flashed through my mind. She’d said she wanted to see what happiness looked like. What was going on with her? I turned and leaned both hands on her desk.
“Phoebe, what’s really going on with you? I had the feeling you were in some kind of turmoil that day in the diner, before you had your spill. Is there something you want to tell me?” Maybe it had to do with that letter from Darryl. If they were back together, it had to be hard for him to be away, and incarcerated.
Her eyelids rose, as did her chin.
Just when I thought I’d offended her, her face changed.
Her shoulders slumped. She took a deep breath, and real tears brimmed her eyes. “I haven’t had much going on since the thrill and benefits of my title wore off. My mama ran me through one pageant after another. ‘Smile, baby’ she’d always say. ‘Just smile and you’ll have whatever you want.’” She crossed her arms and looked aw
ay.
I hadn’t expected this. “May I sit down?”
She nodded. “The thing is I smiled my way through everything, and what Mom said came true. I’ve had everything I wanted, but, I don’t know, there’s this hole.” She placed her hand over her heart as a tear slid down her cheek making a track in her makeup and then dripping onto her arm. “My dad won’t help me financially until I learn to make my own way. He fought Mom tooth and nail over the pageant scene the whole time I was growing up. I can’t do college, and I find that I don’t really know how to do anything. I wing it pretty well, until something of substance is required.”
I knew what she lacked, but just as I breathed a prayer for how to approach the subject of how God could fill that hole, Mr. Ballard came in from his office.
“Phoebe, I need the Davis file, post haste,” he said as he took a sip from the water fountain next to his door, nodded a hello to me, and disappeared back into his office.
“Case in point. I don’t know how to find the Davis file.” She extended both hands with a shrug.
“Where are the files?” I looked around.
“Right inside this little room, here.” She said as she stood and walked that way.
We entered the workroom and approached the file cabinets.
She looked at me, bewildered.
“Seriously, Phoebe? Davis. D. Look it up alphabetically.” I scanned my fingers down the marked drawers, pulled the one marked D, fingered through until I found Davis, and pulled it out.
She snatched the file from me, nose in the air, and cheeks red.
I’d embarrassed her.
“Thank you, Bailey. I have a lot of work to do. I’ll see you later.” She pretty much dismissed me and returned to her old self. Her heels clicked into Mr. Ballard’s office, and I scooted out the front door.
So much for our little talk. I resolved to pray for her and try to be better prepared if another opportunity arose. Who knew when that would be?
The little coffee shop on Main Street where I liked to stock up for the inn was just a few blocks from the historic, antebellum home that housed Mr. Ballard’s law office. A couple minutes later, I parked in front of the shop. I reached for the door handle.