Groom in Training

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  She swung her leg over the bike and strode to the meadow, reaching down to feel the grassy area. “It’s warm and dry.” She sank onto the ground.

  He settled beside her and unzipped the cookie bag. The scent of peanut butter and chocolate blended with the earthy aroma of the meadow and nearby thicket. As they sipped their soft drinks and nibbled on Steph’s great home-baked cookies, he decided to open up the subject of his mother. Once past that issue, he could turn the conversation to Steph’s faith.

  Nick brushed the crumbs from his mouth, “When you talked about your mother’s death earlier, I could relate to your loss.”

  Her lips tightened as concern grew on her face. “Your mom’s gone, too?”

  He looked at the ground, then pressed forward. “No, but—” He tried to form the words. “She’s had a horrible stroke, and it feels like we’ve lost her. Her words are only a jumble. Martin’s a frequent visitor, but I tend to make myself scarce.” He shook his head. “I hate to admit this, but I want to be honest. That’s one of those problems I mentioned. I can do things for people, but when it comes to my mom or anything that’s tangled in emotion, I have to force myself to go.”

  Steph didn’t respond at first, and Nick feared he’d made a mistake telling her.

  Finally she lifted her eyes to his. “I’m trying to wrap myself around this. Martin is a frequent visitor.” She nodded as wanting him to validate what she’d said.

  “Right. That’s ten points for Martin. Zero for me.”

  She dropped back against the ground, her hands behind her head. “It’s hard to picture. I would think you’d be the one to be there as much as you can.”

  He didn’t know what to say. “You’d think.” He focused on the ground and snapped off a weed, bearing a tiny white flower. “Are you disappointed?”

  She studied him. “Surprised.”

  “Me, too. I adore my mom. But it’s difficult to see her so frail and sick.” He broke the stem of the weed below the flower and handed it to her. “The last time I was there I vowed I would do better. When I promise myself something, it’s as if I’m promising the Lord. I know what He wants me to do.”

  She studied the minuscule blossom without looking at him. “It’s important to visit her. You’ll never forgive yourself if something should happen to her, but even more, you want to encourage her to get better. Therapy can work wonders. She needs stimulus to talk. She needs to know you care. One day you’ll walk into her room, and she’ll be more like the mother you used to know, not the ailing one she is now.”

  “Thanks, Steph. I needed to hear that.” Nick pulled out another cookie, not because he was hungry, but he needed something to do with his hands. He longed to embrace her.

  Silence lay heavy over them. When she sat up, he saw sadness in her eyes, and it broke his heart. “I’d love to meet your mother. I really miss mine. No one can replace her.”

  His chest tightened until he thought his heart would burst. “Okay.”

  He’d surprised her by the expression on her face. “Today?”

  Today? Excuses plummeted his mind, then stopped. “Sure. That would be nice.”

  “We could give her the balloons.”

  So simple. Give her the balloons. If only he had a woman’s heart. “That’s a nice idea. She’d love that.”

  They quieted again, but this time, it was a peaceful quiet. He lowered his back to the ground as she had done.

  A bird broke the silence, a melodic sound he’d heard often. A cardinal, he thought.

  “Nick.”

  He raised his head, realizing he still held the uneaten cookie. He looked at her, and a chill shivered down his spine. “Is something wrong?” He sat up.

  “Is God important to you?”

  The question hit him like a sucker punch, totally unexpected and painful, because he saw doubt in her eyes. “Very.”

  “I thought so.”

  What did that mean? He studied her face, but she didn’t look at him. He’d wanted to ask her about her faith, and she’d done it for him. Now he wished she hadn’t. He liked her too much, and how could he continue a friendship when he knew his feelings for her were growing? The silence pressed against him. “You don’t believe?”

  She stared at the grass. Her eyes closed.

  He wanted her to speak, to explain. “Steph.”

  Her head edged upward until finally their eyes met. “I don’t know what I believe, Nick. I’ve heard you talk about God often, and I knew you were a Christian, but—” She tilted her chin upward toward the sun, as if grasping for words. “And I see things in you that I’d like to have in me.”

  “Things?”

  “You and Molly. You both have them.”

  “What things?” His chest tightened until he felt he couldn’t speak.

  “I don’t know. A joy in life. A goodness that goes beyond being calculating.”

  Calculating? He bit the inside of his lip, trying to understand.

  “Some people do nice things so people say thank you and praise them. You don’t.”

  A soft snort flew from him. His nice gestures seemed empty. “Steph, my nice acts aren’t for a thank-you or praise. I’m driven to do them for others. It’s the way I am, and it’s not always good. Think of Martin and me. Neither of us is doing each other a favor.”

  She nodded as if she understood. “Molly’s a believer, and I’ve asked her a million questions. Some of her answers make sense.”

  A sliver of hope poked through his despair. “Have you read the Bible?”

  “I’ve thought about it, but like things we want to avoid, I don’t.”

  His mind flew in a multitude of directions. “Why would you want to avoid it? If you’re questioning, read the Word, and it will help you find answers.”

  Her face grew intense. “I know you can’t understand, but I live in a comfortable rut. I know myself, and if I open the door to something I don’t know…” Her gaze clung to his as if begging for answers. “What if I don’t like the answer? What if I realize I’m doomed for the hell that Christians talk about.”

  “If heaven is real to us, Steph, we have to accept hell. God sent His Son so that we would have eternal life. Hell is the opposite. Not having eternal life. Not being with Jesus. It means being in—”

  “The fiery furnace?”

  He shook his head. “Hell is the absence of God. It’s a place without hope and without love.”

  Tears rimmed her eyes, and he slipped closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders not knowing how else to comfort her besides praying, and he would do that.

  She leaned into him. “I’ve asked myself if this is all there is to life. I think about dying and just vanishing. Being dirt that fertilizes the flowers I love. It could be worse.”

  “But it could be so much better.” He drew her closer, his hand rubbing her arm. “You are worth more. You’re a child of God, but you’ve never met your Father.”

  She tilted her head and closed her eyes. “It sounds so easy, but it isn’t.”

  The special day he’d anticipated had become special but not in the way Nick had expected. She needed time to think—and so did he. Lord, give me words.

  Steph lifted her hand and brushed away her tears. “I’m sorry, Nick.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He felt at a loss. “I care about you, Steph. I hope you consider us good friends. You’re important to me.”

  Her eyes misted again. “I was afraid if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

  He gave her a squeeze, then pushed himself up from the ground. She rose beside him, and he pulled her to his chest and held her there. He had so much to think about. So did Steph. She felt so small in his arms. He wanted to help her. He wanted to love her.

  She drew away. He let her go, but his arms felt empty.

  He picked up their trash, and Steph moved to her bike. They didn’t speak. They pushed off, and on the way back, the only sound he heard was his heart beating in his ears.
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  Chapter Four

  Steph found talking difficult on the way home. Her admission of not being a Christian had dampened both Nick’s and her spirit, and though Nick tried to cover it by slapping a smile on his face, it didn’t work. She knew him well enough to see the disappointment—even concern—in his eyes. Leaving well enough alone seemed prudent today. She needed to think, and he did, too. That’s what she feared.

  The Bible seemed to be an important part of faith. Molly had mentioned it so many times. It guided Molly’s life. God’s Word, she called it. Now Nick said the same. She released a ragged breath, and Nick glanced at her but didn’t say anything.

  Grateful that the drive was short, Steph worked to pump up her spirit as they approached the entrance to the rehabilitation center. She carried the balloons, and the image created a pitiful paradox in her mind. She’d become the sad-faced clown.

  Nick opened the door for her, and she sent him a halfhearted grin. When she stepped inside, the pungent scent of disinfectant permeated the air. A visit that had started out filled with hope now discouraged her. At least her visit would be an act of kindness. The Bible called for people to be thoughtful.

  “It’s that way.” Nick motioned to the corridor ahead of them. They turned, and three doors down, he stopped. “This is it.”

  She stood outside the doorway while he walked in. From a distance, she saw a woman who’d once been pretty. Even today, though her face had been twisted by the stroke, her eyes sparkled and her creamy skin looked like a china doll.

  Nick beckoned to her, and Steph stepped inside, the balloons splashing color against the soft yellow walls. “Mom, this is Stephanie Wright. I told you about her.” He turned toward her. “Steph, this is my mom, Julia Davis.”

  She crossed over to his mother and extended her hand before realizing her right one was paralyzed. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She patted Julia’s arm.

  “Niis.”

  Nice. His mother had spoken. She turned to smile at Nick.

  His eyes had widened like a full moon. “Mom.” He moved to her side and leaned over. “I understood you. That’s wonderful.”

  Relief flooded his face as he sank to the edge of the bed and held his mother’s hand.

  Julia’s face settled into a lopsided smile, and she managed to move her free hand across her body and placed it over Nick’s.

  Steph stood back, watching the emotional connection of mother and son. Her own mother filled her memories, and tears blurred her eyes. She’d had a difficult life, but she’d tried hard to be as good as Steph’s dad allowed her to be.

  Nick turned to face her and grinned. “You look like a clown.”

  She realized she still held the balloons. A chuckle escaped her, and it felt wonderful. Her shoulders lowered as the tension eased away.

  “These balloons are for you,” she said, lowering the balloons. “Some children gave them to us in the park.”

  Julia’s face brightened, obviously pleased. “Can I tie them here so you can see them?”

  “Yeez.”

  Another word. Progress. Nick looked elated, and Steph enjoyed witnessing the special event. It soothed the stress she felt after her talk with Nick. Steph tied the balloons to a chair back close enough for Julia to see, then settled into one of the chairs. She listened to Nick asking about therapy and telling her about their picnic and bike ride. He talked about his work—something she knew little about. He even mentioned Martin.

  “Steph has a doggie day care.”

  Julia’s twisted mouth formed a word. This one she didn’t understand. She wanted to help the frail woman so badly—help her talk and walk again. If Julia were her mother, she would be devoted to her even if…She faltered. That was easy to say but harder to do. With her day care and household tasks, the word devoted didn’t fit. Life marched on. People had responsibilities. But having lost her mother, now she’d become even more precious.

  Had her mother been a believer? Maybe. Steph remembered her going to church once in a while when Steph had been very young. She may have gone, too, but time passed and church attendance faded. Her mother had dealt with a difficult life. Steph thought about heaven. If her mother believed then she would be in heaven.

  “Don’t you agree?”

  Nick’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Agree?”

  “Suzette needs obedience training.”

  So did Martin. She agreed about Suzette and gave a short pitch-talk about the training, hoping to encourage Nick to talk with his brother.

  The uncomfortable chair caused Steph to squirm. She leaned back, trying different positions, as her gaze swept the room. A bouquet of flowers stood on the windowsill. She tried to read the inscription but couldn’t. A Bible lay on the stand near Julia’s bed. She wondered if his mother could hold it so she could read.

  “Do people read to your mother?”

  Nick shifted on the edge of the bed and shrugged. “I mentioned bringing her some audio books. I haven’t.” He glanced at the table and picked up the Bible. “Does someone read to you, Mom?”

  A flustered expression settled on Julia’s face as she tried to speak. Nick watched her and then glanced at Julia, lifting his shoulder in a questioning shrug.

  Steph rose and walked to the edge of the bed. “Sometimes.”

  His mother’s head tilted.

  “Not very often?”

  This time she gave a full nod.

  Steph’s pulse kicked as she formed an idea. “I could drop by once in a while and read to you if you’d like?”

  Julia’s eyes sparkled. “Yeez.”

  “Wonderful. I love to read.”

  Nick’s eyes filled with gratitude, and he slipped his hand in hers and squeezed. “Thank you. That would be really nice.”

  Steph smiled, thinking she could stop after work Tuesday and find a book Julia might enjoy.

  “Bibo.”

  Nick’s head turned, and Steph leaned forward, trying to figure out what she wanted.

  Her veined hand shifted on the bed, and one finger pointed to the table.

  Nick followed her movement. “Bibo?”

  Steph knew, and gooseflesh rose up her arm. “She said Bible.”

  Nick’s head pivoted toward Steph. “She wants you to read her the Bible.” His eyes searched hers, a desperate look on his face.

  “I know.” Buzzing sounded in her ears. She sank back into the chair. God worked miracles. She’d heard that from Molly, and if she didn’t know better, this could be God guiding her steps. She waited for the dizziness to pass, then drew up her shoulders. She’d questioned reading the Bible before. Now this?

  Too strange. She struggled with the idea. God could do anything. That was logical, but what happened today wasn’t.

  “You have a call.”

  Steph lengthened her frame when she heard the intercom and checked on her dogs before picking up the receiver.

  Nick’s voice surprised her. “Sorry to call you at work.”

  “That’s okay. His voice held an edge of concern. His mother? “Is something wrong?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  She tried to decipher what she’d heard. Since Memorial Day, she’d anticipated Nick walking out of her life, and frustration took over. Why had she been so open about her faith? But he hadn’t turned his back. She didn’t know what she would have done. The thought of him vanishing from her life had ripped her apart.

  “Your mother’s okay?”

  “She’s fine. I haven’t seen her since we were there.”

  She wanted to chastise him for not visiting. Wisdom stopped her. She’d promised to drop by, and she hadn’t, either. Too many things pressed on her mind. “I thought…when I heard your voice, I feared it was bad news.”

  “Nothing’s wrong, and thanks for worrying.” His voice sounded more like the Nick she knew so well. “I’m at a building supply, checking ideas to resolve the fence issue.”

  The fence. She had no problem with the fence until his brother
appeared in her life. The whole issue irritated her. But Nick’s concern seemed so natural. “Any ideas?”

  “A couple, but I want to show you first.”

  Again the subject of cost wavered through her stomach. “Can you pick up brochures?”

  “I have some in my hand.”

  She pictured his tan hands with long fingers clutching the glossy pamphlets. Her fear lifted for the first time since Memorial Day. She’d wondered what her confession had done to their friendship, and if she looked in his eyes, she would know the truth. “How about dropping by here? I wanted you to see my day care and the shelter anyway.”

  “Works for me.”

  A flutter rippled in her chest. “We’re on Rochester Road near—”

  “I know where it is. See you in twenty minutes.”

  He must have checked out the building. Just like him. She peered at her watch and opened the back door, allowing the dogs to run into the yard. She stood a moment, feeling the chill of the cooler day and of her concern over seeing Nick again.

  Flowers had sprouted, though many were still waiting to shoot up from the ground. Planting wasn’t safe in Michigan until after Memorial Day, and even then, it wasn’t a sure thing. Since her confession, her own emotions lingered like shoots beneath the ground, waiting for the sunshine of Nick’s smile and the warmth of his acceptance.

  After the visit with his mother, she longed to hear him say something to give her hope, anything to let her know that his friendship hadn’t been marred by her confession, but he’d talked about his mother’s illness and concerns. The time wasn’t right to probe him on his feelings for her, so Steph remained quiet.

  A shiver ran down her back. She stepped inside, grabbed a jacket and tossed it over her shoulders. She loved watching the dogs play outside. No one bothered them. They could bark without a care in the world. If only she had the freedom, the kind that made a difference to her spirit. Molly had that freedom. Steph had always sensed it, and now she’d seen it demonstrated in Nick. She’d put a name on it.