John's Quest (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

by Cecelia Dowdy

  Karen ordered a seafood frittata. Monica ordered a sausage-and-cheddar omelet with bacon for herself, John ordered a southwestern omelet, and Scotty ordered an American cheese omelet.

  John asked Karen about her profession. She happily answered his questions about being a hairdresser.

  He soon grew tired of her incessant chatter, and eventually Karen and Anna started their own conversation, ignoring Scotty, Monica, and John.

  John touched Monica’s hand. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are you just tired like you said earlier?” he asked.

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  He shrugged, unsure of how to answer. “You look a little sad. Did something happen recently?”

  She shook her head, leaning toward him. “Just worried about Scotty, that’s all,” she whispered.

  He looked at her, sensing there was more going on with her than Scotty’s behavior problems. Before he could question her further, their server arrived, and scents of seafood and eggs filled the table. As he prepared to dig into his food, the others bowed their heads while Monica led the blessing. He watched her as she thanked the Lord for their food. Her long lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and looked at him. He returned her warm gaze before enjoying his meal.

  After the meal was over, Anna left the table, and John noticed her in the corner, flirting with the waiter. They exchanged slips of paper, so he assumed she was getting his phone number. Anna returned, announcing she was ready to head back. She drove everybody back to their respective cars at the church parking lot.

  John watched Monica as she led Scotty to her car. “Monica.”

  “Yes?” She unlocked her door.

  “How about another cup of coffee?”

  “Huh?”

  He chuckled. “Do you mind if I come by and visit for a while?”

  Her hand rested on the door handle. “Well, I don’t know. . . .”

  “If you have plans, I understand.”

  “Why did you want to come by?”

  He decided to be honest with her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Really? What?” Her voice was full of intrigue as she awaited his response.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as we get to your house.”

  “Okay.”

  Grinning with anticipation, he headed to his car.

  ❧

  After they arrived home, Monica settled Scotty in front of the TV with a bottle of soda and some cookies. The little boy loved listening to the programs and followed the stories of his favorite characters as easily as she did. She joined John in the kitchen. She had changed into her house clothes and her slippers.

  She tried to calm her racing heart as she poured two cups of coffee before joining him at the table. Monica sipped the coffee. “Before you tell me why you wanted to talk to me, I just wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me for what?”

  “For helping Scotty. I know he still has a long way to go, but since you’ve been tutoring him, his schoolwork has improved a little bit during the last few weeks. His teacher called and told me about it. She said if he keeps his improvement level up, he’ll probably be on grade level by the end of the school year.”

  He shook his head as if he didn’t want to accept her praise. “I enjoy doing this. I sense it’s my mission to help kids who have trouble in school, especially blind kids.” He seemed thoughtful as he sipped from his coffee cup, gazing at her marigolds in the flower garden outside the kitchen window.

  The sun had disappeared more than an hour ago, and the day was now as gray as if it were about to rain. “Why do you feel that way?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?” He stopped looking out the window, focusing on her again.

  “Why do you want to help blind children so much?”

  “Is there anything wrong with wanting to do that? You said you’ve seen a difference in Scotty.”

  She touched his hand. “I don’t mean anything negative. I think it’s nice you spend time helping others.” She didn’t want to offend him. “I just sense that. . .well, that there’s some reason why you’re so passionate about what you do. You talk about your volunteer work more than your job at the university.”

  He focused on their joined hands. “You know, I really like you, Monica.” She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip remained tight. “I really do. I know you don’t want to date, but I’m glad we can spend time together since I tutor Scotty. I might check out that class at your church and try to get an answer to some of those questions I have about God. I’ve been wanting to come, but I’ve been hesitating, changing my mind at the last minute. I think I just need to push my apprehensions aside and come next Sunday.”

  “The class started two weeks ago, so you’re already behind.”

  He shrugged. “So? I’m a professor—I learn quickly. If I do find that I can believe in God, do you think we could spend some time together—dating?”

  She pulled her hand away. “I’m not sure. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to sway your beliefs just so we can date.”

  “I’d never think that about you.” His voice had turned husky, and he leaned toward her, running his hand over her cheek. His touch felt delicious, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her.

  “Aunt Monica!”

  She jumped up as if she’d been burned by fire. “Yes, Scotty!” She ran into the living room, and Scotty held his empty soda bottle toward her. “Can I have some more soda?”

  “No, you’ve already had enough soda for today. I’ll pour you a glass of water.”

  He grumbled under his breath, and she was relieved when no cuss words tumbled from his mouth. She gave him a glass of ice water and returned to the kitchen.

  “Now, where were we?” asked John.

  She cleared her throat, glad Scotty had interrupted. “I was asking you why you were so passionate about your volunteer work.”

  He paused, as if hesitant about answering her question.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Well, I guess you could say my passion for volunteer work ties a little with my agnostic views.”

  “What do you mean?”

  John leaned back into his chair, took a deep breath, and began telling her about his childhood.

  Five

  “I told you that my parents were agnostic, and they raised me that way.” He sipped his coffee. “But what I didn’t tell you was that when I was nine, my mother gave birth to my brother.”

  “I didn’t realize you had any siblings.” She knew so little about him after spending so much time with him during the last few weeks.

  He shook his head. “I don’t anymore. My little brother, Paul, died when he was only eight.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” She touched his hand.

  “Like Scotty, he was born blind, and I guess that’s why I have a soft spot in my heart for people who suffer from blindness. He had a rare disease and that’s why he died so early, but I recall his going to a special school, struggling with his blindness. And after he died, I was determined to help others like my brother. I learned braille, and when I went to college to get my degree, I also studied and got a special teaching degree, just so I could help visually impaired people. After I finished college, I started volunteering at schools, helping blind children. I’ve been doing it for years now, and I feel like this is something I have to do.”

  She carefully thought of her next question. “So is that another reason why you refuse to accept Jesus? You think He let you down when your brother died?”

  He nodded. “I guess you could say that. I recall how heart-sick my parents were when Paul died. They just reemphasized to me that if God did exist, He would not have allowed Paul to die.”

  “And you believed them?�
��

  “Yes, I did. I just don’t understand Him, and that’s why I find it hard to believe in Him. Also, my parents accepted Jesus into their lives, and they were killed in a car accident months later. What kind of God allows His saved children to die?” His voice dripped with bitterness.

  “John, please come to the class at my church. I think it’s what you really need. None of us understands God. Not even those of us, like me, who do accept Him as our Savior. We just have to believe even when we don’t understand,” she stated.

  “Okay,” he grumbled.

  “So you will come? Just give it a try for a while and see how it goes.”

  He nodded, and she hoped the class would help him find his way to Jesus.

  ❧

  The following Sunday, John pulled his car into the parking lot of Monica’s church to attend the class.

  After the leader dismissed the group, John headed to the sanctuary, eagerly looking for Monica. He spotted her sitting in a pew with Scotty, and his heart skipped a beat. She looked beautiful in a dove-gray suit. He strolled to the pew, ignoring the curious glances from the other church members. He plopped into the seat beside her. She barely noticed him as she whispered something to Scotty, obviously fussing with him about something.

  Unable to resist, he touched the small mole above her mouth. “Hi, beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Mr. John!” Scotty beamed, recognizing John’s voice. “Are you going to start coming to church with us now? Do you believe in God?”

  She reprimanded Scotty. “Don’t talk so loud in church, Scotty.”

  The worship band started playing, and the choir filtered onto the stage, their long scarlet-and-white robes swaying. He squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  She squeezed his hand back. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  Even though he’d seen her during the week when he tutored Scotty, he still found a small thrill in seeing her at church dressed in her Sunday best, worshipping her God.

  The choir began to sing “Amazing Grace,” and for once John listened to the lyrics, really listened, and found himself a little moved by the music. Monica stood with most of the congregation and closed her eyes as she swayed to the music. A tear escaped from her eye, and he stood beside her and wiped it away. She opened her eyes, giving him a gentle smile as she continued to sway, singing the inspiring words.

  When the preaching began, John made more of an effort to listen but found that being near Monica was distracting. The scent of her perfume unnerved him, and he longed to spend some time with her after the service. Again he noticed that she covertly stared at the couple who sat near the exit of the church with their infant. When the woman happened to look back, Monica hurriedly focused on the pulpit again.

  Recalling that something similar had happened last week, he made a mental note to ask her about it later. When the service finished, he followed her into the foyer. “I noticed Scotty didn’t go to Sunday school today.”

  “The teacher was sick, and they couldn’t find a substitute.”

  “I was good today, wasn’t I, Aunt Monica?”

  She chuckled, stroking his face. “Yes, you were.”

  “You said if I was good during the service we could go to Phillips for lunch.”

  Anna rushed into the foyer before Monica could answer. She greeted Monica, Scotty, and John before exiting so fast the floor vibrated. “Where is she going? I thought the three of you had lunch together every Sunday.”

  “Humph. Where do you think she’s going? She’s got a brunch date with Dean Love.”

  “Dean Love? You’re talking about the waiter at the Bayside Skillet?”

  Monica nodded. “Yes, when Anna sees a man she likes, she pursues him with a vengeance. She barely gives the man a chance to ask her out properly. She’ll do the asking, and then we’ll listen to her complain when things don’t work out.” She continued to talk about Anna’s new love interest as they walked toward the door. “Dean told Anna he’s a Christian, but I haven’t been around him enough to see if it’s really true.”

  John frowned. “What do you mean? Do you think he’s lying?”

  Monica shrugged. “It’s hard to say. One man that Anna used to date claimed to be a Christian just so Anna would go out with him. After she spent some time with the man, it was obvious he didn’t take her faith seriously. She stopped seeing him after that, and she told me the next time she dated somebody, she would proceed slowly to make sure he expressed his faith through his actions.”

  “Mmm.” He was unsure of what to comment about Anna’s dating habits. “Where’s Karen?”

  “She’s sick with a stomach virus, so she couldn’t make it to church today.”

  Scotty tugged Monica’s hand. “Aunt Monica, can we go to Phillips now?”

  “Be patient. I’m talking to Mr. John.”

  John chuckled, running his hand over Scotty’s head. “How about I treat you and your aunt to lunch, sport?”

  The little boy did a small jump with excitement. “Can he come with us, Aunt Monica?”

  John was rewarded with a charming smile from Monica. “If he wants to come with us, he can.”

  His heart sped up as his eyes locked with hers. He realized he could get used to this, spending time each Sunday afternoon on an outing with Monica and her nephew.

  In the parking lot, he opened the passenger door for her. “Do you mind if I drive, and we can pick up your car later?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Scotty opened his door and jumped into the car, buckling his seat belt. He bounced on the leather seat. “I can’t wait to eat at Phillips!”

  After they arrived and had eaten their lunch, Scotty had a suggestion. “Aunt Monica, you never took me to the saltwater taffy candy store. You promised we could go last week!”

  “Scotty, stop whining.” She touched the boy’s shoulder. “We can go sometime this week.”

  John came to the rescue. “We can go now. I haven’t had saltwater taffy in ages.”

  A short time later, they entered the spacious shop. Scents of sugar and chocolate surrounded them, and workers stood behind a glass window, wrapping taffy and beating and pouring fudge. John gazed at the display case, enjoying the view of several pastel-colored round and cylindrical taffy pieces. Multihued mints rested in receptacles, and various kinds of fudge were available.

  Scotty jumped up and down, pulling Monica’s hand. “Aunt Monica, I smell chocolate! Can I have some fudge?”

  John purchased the chocolate–peanut butter fudge for Scotty and Monica, and John decided on the milk chocolate candy. He also purchased a box of taffy for her to take home for Scotty.

  The small candy shop had a playground out back. They sat at one of the small round tables to savor their snack.

  John enjoyed his chocolate candy, and Monica ate her fudge. Scotty ate his candy in a hurry. “Don’t eat so fast,” she admonished. “Your fudge is not going anyplace.”

  Scotty chuckled as he drained the last of the water from the plastic bottle. “Can I go and play in the playground now?”

  “Okay, but be careful,” she warned as she led him to the abandoned outdoor play area. She let him loose before she returned to the table. Instead of sitting across from John, she sat in the seat beside him because it had a better view of the play area.

  “Did you enjoy the class today?” she asked.

  He sipped his water. “Well, it was interesting. It gave me some things to think about, and I’m looking forward to attending next week.”

  She beamed. “You are? That’s so encouraging. I certainly hope you find your way to Jesus through this class.”

  He still didn’t know if he’d “find” Jesus through the class, but a lot of his questions about God and salvation might be answered through the lessons. “I
noticed today and last week that you were staring at that couple with the baby sitting near the exit of the sanctuary.”

  She picked up her water bottle and took a sip, tapping her foot. She remained silent, so he continued. “You looked upset when you were watching them, and when the woman looked toward you, you looked away. Are they friends of yours?”

  “I’d rather not discuss them.” The unfamiliar stony edge to her voice was like a shock of frigid water.

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just wondered, that’s all. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  She watched the play area. “Well, I guess I have to say they’re friends of mine.” Her voice remained hard, and she certainly didn’t sound like the Monica Crawford he had been spending time with during the last month. Her jaw tensed, and he encouraged her to continue, hoping she would calm down.

  “They have to be my friends since they’re members of my church, and they’re good Christian people.” Her voice was no longer hard, but sad and resigned.

  He rubbed her shoulder, offering her his comfort. “He was your old boyfriend, wasn’t he?”

  “What makes you think that? Did Karen or Anna tell you?”

  He shook his head, raising his hands into the air. “I wouldn’t talk to Karen or Anna behind your back about your love life. I’m not that underhanded.” He looked toward the cream-colored wall, hurt.

  She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I wasn’t thinking. Please forgive me.”

  He nodded, still wondering if Monica trusted him after that comment. “Tell me about this guy. Who is he?” He touched her hand. “Why does he make you look so sad? Are you in love with him?”

  She blinked rapidly, and for a minute, he thought she was going to cry. But her eyes remained dry as she fiddled with her empty water bottle. “Not really.”

  “Not really? Sounds to me like you still love him.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I dated him for a long time.”

  “How long?”