Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014
Page 58
At that moment, he saw a nurse locking the doors to her car. He recognized the blond hair, square nose, and thin frame. Exiting his own vehicle, he sank his hands deep into the pockets of his wool coat and approached her. “Trish?”
She whirled. “Huh? What’s the matter? What did I do?” She then chuckled. “Oh, it’s you. You need to do something about that coat. I thought you were some kind of detective.”
“Actually I am. Bet you didn’t know that when we first met, did you?” He offered his hand. “Detective Neil Jenson.”
At first, she looked stunned. Then a smile crept across her face. “You’re no detective. You work with insurance or something.”
“I changed occupations for this meeting. This is detective work of the likes you’ve never seen. Speaking of which, I’ve heard how my girlfriend is about to get the boot off the floor. All this seems to be coming on the heels of the discussion you and I had the other day.”
She began fidgeting with her purse strap.
“I just can’t figure out why you would stoop to spreading lies about her and to the head nurse. Are you jealous for some reason?”
Her head jerked around, eyes blazing. “Ha. I am not jealous of Debbie, believe me.”
“Well, something must not be right to go to these lengths. Unless, of course, you want to tell everyone the truth, which would help in the long run.”
“I have,” she said, lifting her head high.
Neil felt his irritation rising. “Good. So I can say for a fact that Debbie isn’t getting a transfer, nor will she face any further character assassinations. If things get turned around with your head nurse, I won’t make more waves about this whole, sad scenario. If not, then I’d be careful if I were you. Two can play at this game.”
“Oh, really? And what can you possibly do to me?” she asked, the uncertainty clearly evident in her voice.
“Just clear things up and keep them clear, Trish. I mean it. Or it’s gonna get ugly. I can promise you that.”
They stared at each other for a moment before she whirled about and hurried off.
Neil blew out a sigh. So much for tact. But, at this point, love was on the line. And he meant what he said. If she got his boiler going any hotter, he was liable to create a firestorm of trouble that would smoke her right out of this place.
He sighed. One down. Now he needed to confront the head nurse. Before going up to the third floor, he grabbed a cup of coffee in the cafeteria to ponder the situation. Even with his human frailty, Neil believed God was looking out for him somehow. But as he nursed his cup of coffee, with the steam caressing his face, he wondered if he was only digging a deeper pit for himself and Debbie. There were other ways to deal with such problems—like praying and letting God handle the vindication. He took a swallow of coffee. But he had to do something. How else could he keep Debbie from running? He had to show her he cared. He had to tell her, somehow, that moving away was not the answer, that the real answer for her life could be found only by seeking God’s will for her life and, yes, with a guy named Neil by her side. And the best way to do that was to get this Mrs. Whitaker to reconsider, to keep her where she loved the residents like Gram, to make her stay somehow, someway.
❧
“No, I don’t think so. Thanks anyway.”
Neil cringed as he steered his car onto the highway. His fingers gripped his cell phone. This is what he feared—Debbie giving him the brush-off when he suggested they meet for dinner. The plan was simple enough in his mind—whisk her away to a restaurant and share what was on his heart. But so far, she was not cooperating one iota. How could he display tact in such a situation? He certainly couldn’t order her to go out with him. That would send her packing in no time flat.
“So it’s final then,” he said. “You’re moving away?”
“I am looking for another job, if that’s what you mean. I made some calls home, and Dad is looking into some possibilities for me. I’m just laying all my options out on the table.”
“Good. And I would like to be one of those options. The least you can do is let me take you out to dinner so we can discuss it.”
A pause came over the line. “Neil, this just isn’t going to work out between us. You know it.”
“Look, it’s not what you think. That is, I’m not the option. It’s what I have to say that is.” Am I making sense? “There are some things I’ve discovered that you need to hear. If you aren’t willing to look at the big picture, Debbie, then I would say you’ve grown a bit close minded.”
He could almost feel the coldness seep over the phone line and the, “I am not!” ringing loud and clear, though she said nothing. He heard a click and thought she had hung up.
“Okay, I’ll go. I won’t be labeled close minded, even if everyone has labeled me a host of other things. You can give your little spiel. It’s only fair, I suppose.”
He exhaled rapidly. “Good. I’ll pick you up at six.” He clicked off his cell phone and shoved it into a small compartment above a used coffee cup. At least he’d convinced her to hear him out. He didn’t know what good it would do, but he could try. And if it didn’t work out, then God must have other plans for the two of them, though he hated to think what those plans might be.
❧
Debbie wore a different sweater when he arrived to pick her up. A cherry-colored one this time, judging by the collar that poked out from the jacket she wore. Her face did not bear that soft touch either but appeared stony, with glazed blue eyes to match.
“So where are we going?” she asked. “To the old hangout?”
“No. Somewhere different. My mother always liked this place.”
He drove for a time. Debbie stared out the window at the Christmas decorations until her teeth began to chatter. “Do you mind turning on the heat? It’s cold in here.”
“Of course. Sorry about that. I can think clearer when it’s cold.”
“No wonder you have to wear a heavy wool overcoat. And black leather gloves. Bet you can see your breath in here.” She blew into the air. “Well, now that the heat is on, I don’t see it.”
Her attitude had definitely changed. It was colder, harsher, like the weather that turned frigid with the arctic blast that roared through just yesterday. How does one warm up a woman chilled by her circumstances?
In another fifteen minutes, he pulled up to a famous country restaurant. “I love this place,” Debbie announced.
You hit the bull’s eye. Way to go, Neil. He smiled. “Good. Mom always liked to look around the country store inside before they called our name off the waiting list to go into the restaurant.”
“Not a very private place to put one’s options out on the table,” she mused.
“Daleville isn’t the best place for a cozy atmosphere. I could take you to Roanoke if you want. Plenty of places there.”
“No, this is fine.” She immediately left the car and headed into the store. In no time, she immersed herself in the assortment of products for sale. Neil gave the waitress his name and then joined her as she perused handblown glass ornaments, old-fashioned toys, glassware, candles, and everything else women loved to coo over. Just to see Debbie relaxed and enjoying her time of browsing made all this worth his while and more.
Suddenly the waitress called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Jenson, your table is ready.”
Debbie whirled, gaping at him.
“I didn’t tell her to say that,” he said swiftly, feeling the hot flush crawl into his face.
“I sincerely hope that is not the option you plan to fork out onto the table.”
She laughed loudly as if it were some great joke. They followed the waitress to the rear of the room and, to Neil’s relief, a small table tucked away in the corner. So far God was smiling on this little plan of his, minus the Mister-and-Missus routine. Though he did find the ide
a of being a married couple appealing, in a strange sort of way. He could picture himself spending his life with Debbie. If only she felt the same way. But that was not on his agenda, at least not yet. First things first. He had to make certain she stayed put.
“Get the hash brown casserole,” Debbie urged. “You’ll love it. By the way, isn’t this menu great? It’s like being sent back in time, with the old-fashioned parchment paper and writing. And, of course, the good home cooking.”
After they gave their orders, Debbie picked up the pegboard puzzle at their table and began playing with it. “I can never leave less than four of these pegs in here,” she murmured. “Guess I’m not that smart.”
“I think you’re very smart.” And beautiful, caring, the perfect match for me. . .if it’s God’s will for us.
“Most folks around here wouldn’t agree with your assessment of my abilities. In fact, they think I belong somewhere else. Though, at least they haven’t yet transferred me off the floor. In fact, Mrs. Whitaker took me off the float list. I wanted to ask her why, but I didn’t.” She jumped the pegs over each other and tossed them into a small pile.
Neil hid his reaction behind a menu, thanking God silently for small victories.
“Okay, you’re hiding something, Neil Jenson.”
He glanced over the top of the menu. “Who, me?”
“Yes, you. I can tell. You had something to do with my retransfer back to the floor, didn’t you? There’s no way I could suddenly be back in everyone’s good graces without a little help.”
“Look, Debbie, I think Mrs. Whitaker realizes the mistake she made. She knows what a positive impact you have on the residents, how well that World War II vet you talk about responds to you. Even Gram went and asked her where you were and why you weren’t around, that you were deeply needed and sorely missed. Yep, my grandmother, the crusader. Trish and her crew had convinced Mrs. Whitaker that you were the one causing the problems on the floor, but I think she’s beginning to see who the true ringleader is. And I must admit, I think she’s a tad bit embarrassed by it all.”
“I’ve worked with her long enough. I can’t believe she would take Trish’s word over mine.”
“Trish has a way about her that is very convincing. I mean, she threw me for a loop about the movie bit. She can be quite the conniver.”
“Trish would bite off a hand if it suited her. She doesn’t care about anyone, especially the residents. I doubt she’d help a soul unless it was to her advantage, or unless it was a man dressed in a black overcoat and wearing black gloves. She’s almost forty, you know, and she wants so badly to be married. I’m just glad you saw through it.” Debbie removed a few more pegs. “Hey, I got down to three pegs. I’m getting better at this.”
“I’m really sorry work is so tough. But you have to think that God must want something important accomplished in that place, maybe even among those who dislike you. And you can bet when the going gets rough, then you must be doing something right. So I hope you’ll hang in there and not give up.”
The food arrived. Neil prayed for the meal and immediately tackled his hash brown casserole. Debbie only sat there, staring at the food in front of her—the chicken potpie with a side dish of hash brown casserole. She made no move to pick up her fork.
Neil immediately tensed. “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”
“No.” She paused. “Overwhelmed, I guess. I don’t know anyone who would stick his neck out for me the way you have. No one I know would go and confront people for my sake. Or buy me dinner in one of my favorite restaurants. And certainly no guy, for that matter. I mean, I’ve eaten with people before. The girls from church. Things like that. I guess I’m not sure what to say or do at this point.”
Neil acknowledged her plate. “C’mon. Enjoy your option then. It’s sitting right on the table like you said it would be.”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “My option?”
“I’m forking out my option. This is it—dinner out with me. You eat this, and you’re stuck here for good. You know it. Skip it and leave, and I guess this really is good-bye.”
She stared before a slight smile teased the corners of her lips. “I’m too hungry, and this is simply too good to walk away from.” She picked up her fork. “I never thought a way to a woman’s heart would be by way of a sweet country restaurant and a man dressed in a black overcoat. But I guess this time it is.”
Neil laughed heartily. He never had a more pleasant meal and was sorry to see it end so quickly. But they both had jobs to go to the next morning, and he needed to return to Roanoke. On the drive back to her place, they talked some more. Debbie even broached the topic of his grandfather, Samuel, and asked how things were going in that department.
“I’m at a little bit of a roadblock as far as that’s concerned,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s better that I stop where I am. I should leave the past alone. ‘Let it go’ like everyone’s been telling me to do and concentrate on getting Gram home for a few days over the holidays.” Arriving at the apartment building, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to let everything go. He had refused to let Debbie go, and through dinner and conversation, she had changed her mind about leaving. But what else could he do? Besides, there were more important things, after all. His life. Debbie’s life. And where life was taking them at the moment. And he was glad that they both finally seemed to be heading in the right direction.
“Thanks for dinner. It was great.”
“Debbie, I hope you know I care about you. A lot.”
She sat still for a moment, pulling the zipper to her jacket up and down. “I know. That’s why I couldn’t eat my dinner at first. It hit me right then that you really do care what happens to me. It’s not just some passing whim. I’ve gone through that, you know, when I was some passing fancy, and nothing was real. I thought it was real once, but the guy wanted someone else. My roommate.”
“This is not some passing fancy. Believe me, it’s very real. In fact, I’ll even show you how real it can get.” He leaned over to kiss her. At first she seemed tense by the encounter. He felt her lips tremble against his. Then she fumbled for the door, and before he knew it, she disappeared into the night.
Startled, Neil flopped back in his seat. Had he made a mistake? Did he move too fast? He only meant it as a kiss of joy, an answer to prayer and all the proof required to show that they were right for each other.
If only she felt the same way.
Eleven
He kissed me, he kissed me, and he ain’t gonna miss me!
Debbie laughed at the singsong rhyme trickling through her head, even as she prepared to tackle another day at White Pines. She found it hard to believe all her desires could be realized so quickly and so completely. Never did she think Neil would end the evening the way he had. Reflecting on their past encounters, she could see how much he cared. He wasn’t a Brad by any means. He was Neil, his own man, and a wonderful man at that. And no, she wasn’t about to leave. Not now, not ever. She could already hear wedding bells pealing, at least in her heart. Maybe one Saturday, she would venture to Roanoke and shop around for a dress. She’d ask her younger sister Kris and some friends from church to be bridesmaids. She would plan out the flowers, the caterer, everything.
She sighed. Forget dreaming about a wedding and then life with Neil in some glorious two-story, four-bedroom home in Roanoke and her with a full-fledged nursing degree, four kids, and a minivan to cart them around in. Time to get back on track, at least for the present. She still had all her Christmas shopping to do and cards to write up. Not to mention her work at White Pines.
Today she was assigned to Harold. He sat in his wheelchair in the usual combat mode, talking about Hitler’s Germans and what the troops needed to do to secure victory. “So how are those spies you’ve been seeing?” he asked Debbie while she combed his hair. “Did you turn them in?”
“Yeah, but things can start up again at any moment. Keep alert. And make sure to wear your helmet and keep your gun at the ready, just in case.”
Wise words. The Bible talked about keeping one’s armament ready when facing the enemies of life. The helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness. The sword of the Spirit or the Word of God, among the other accoutrements.
“They’re slick, the enemy,” Harold continued. “And they’re dug in good up there. They had all that time, you know, to dig in and wait for us to come. It could have been worse. They all thought we would land in Calais, commanded by General Patton.” He chuckled. “But we fooled them good. Yep, we sure did, when General Eisenhower moved us to the landing at Normandy.”
Normandy. The name triggered something within her, something she had kept buried since the falling-out on the unit and, most recently, Neil’s kiss. She recalled the conversation about Neil’s true grandfather going off to battle across the ocean. “I know someone who was at Normandy,” she said to Harold.
Immediately he perked up. “Was he in my unit? I can’t find my buddies anywhere. And Sam, I told you about Sam.”
Sam! She began to think. Neil’s grandfather was called Samuel. “Did your friend go by Sam or Samuel?”
“Sam, of course. No good man would go by Samuel, ’lessen he was some good ol’ boy from back home.” Harold laughed and then turned somber. “Poor Sam.”
“Tell me about him, Harold.”
“He was a great man. A good friend. He had a girl back home. Liv, he called her. And he had a boy, too. Cared about him a lot, he did. Talked about him all the time.”
“A boy? How old?”
“Don’t recall. Young boy, I think. A few years old. Sam loved that boy. Sent him some letters, I think.”