A Steadfast Surrender

by Nancy Moser

  She folded her hands beneath her chin and bowed her head. “Dear Jesus, I’m so weary. I’m tired of just surviving. I want more. I want strength and certainty and determination…and joy. I want joy.”

  She decided a confession was in order. “You know my motives. It’s true I’m hoping that saying yes will bring about good changes in my life.” She laughed softly. “I’m certainly not considering it because I want things to get worse. But know that I also am doing this because it’s the right thing to do. I know it will please You—and somehow please Lou. He tried so hard and for so long to get me to this point.”

  She put a hand on the album, connecting to her husband. “So here I am. Saying yes to you without even knowing the question.” She drew a breath from her toes. “Yes, I say yes. I give you my everything. Take me, I’m yours.”

  She lowered her head to her arms, blanketing the pictures of her family. And then she cried every kind of tear left inside. Sorrow, guilt, relief, joy…

  And she was cleansed.

  Twenty-three

  Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time;

  wait till the Lord comes.

  He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and

  will expose the motives of men’s hearts.

  At that time each will receive his praise from God.

  1 CORINTHIANS 4:5

  CLAIRE STOPPED OUTSIDE THE KITCHEN to listen to Merry’s song. She wasn’t good, but she was loud.

  When Merry ended with an exuberant “Hal-le-lu-ya-a-a-h” Claire made her presence known by walking in with applause.

  Merry blushed but recovered nicely with a deep curtsy.

  “What’s got into you this morning?”

  Merry pulled out a stool for her. “You’re not the only one who has God moments. I had one last night.”

  Claire suffered a twinge of jealousy. “Where was I?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “What happened?”

  Merry brandished a spatula to make her point. “I said yes, Claire. Just like you did. I said yes to God.”

  Without me? “What brought that on?”

  Merry shrugged. “A lot of things. I’m tired of treating the Lord like a four-letter word, I’m tired of holding on to the past and my guilt as if it will change something. I’m tired of making it so hard by thinking I have to attain a certain state of perfection before I can commit to Him. Truth is, God will take me as I am.”

  Claire thought of a well-known song—“Just As I Am, Without One Plea.”

  “I’m tired of handling things by myself,” Merry said. “I figure He can do a better job of it.”

  Claire knew she should be happy for Merry—and for God. This was a victory for the Lord. This was proof He was working in Merry’s life. This was—

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “That’s great.” Her voice had the dull resonance of a spoon against a tin cup.

  Merry flicked the spatula at her. “Aw, come on, Claire. Don’t be so…contained. Today is a day for joy.” She flipped a pancake with a flourish. “It feels so good to move on with my life.”

  “Haven’t you been moving on?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been a sleepwalker. If something threatened to wake me, I’d run away until I could slip back to sleep.”

  Sim came in the kitchen, her eyes half-closed. “What’s going on in here?”

  Merry ruffled the girl’s hair in a gesture full of joyful abandon. “I was just telling Claire that you two had a big part in waking me up.”

  Sim stumbled onto a stool. “Who’s awake?”

  Merry was on a roll. “Actually, Claire started it. Her appearance in Steadfast made me think about someone other than myself and my predicament.”

  “Oh,” Claire said flatly. “I’m…glad.”

  Merry stopped, an eyebrow dipping. “What’s with you anyway?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “Don’t give me that. It’s pretty noticeable when the head cheerleader has lost her pom-poms.” Merry waggled a single finger next to her own head and deadpanned, “Yay, team.”

  Claire had to smile. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Yes, it is.” Merry eyed her. “I thought you, of all people, would be jumping up and down, doing a funky end-zone dance.”

  Why was she being so lukewarm, acting like a little girl who’d been served lima beans instead of chocolate?

  “You having second thoughts about staying on for a while?”

  That woke Sim up. “Are you?”

  Claire looked past them into nothing. She let the notion settle and found it false. “No. I’m okay with staying—and then going back.”

  “Then what is it?” Merry asked.

  Explaining it was like grasping fog. “Change makes me…wistful.” Claire traced the edge of the counter. “I’m aware of a change about to take place. I want it to happen yet don’t want it to happen.”

  Merry piped up immediately. “You mean you’re human.”

  Claire laughed. And the wistfulness was appeased.

  Merry served the pancakes. “Eat up. Eat up now, but save room for a big dinner. I want to take you both to Bon Vivant this evening to celebrate—celebrate everything. Celebrate life.”

  How could Claire argue with that?

  The restaurant critic sipped coffee from his travel mug. He glanced at the woman in the passenger seat. “You feeling any better?”

  The woman did not open her eyes. “I’ll be all right. Get me a good meal, and I’ll be fine.”

  “We didn’t have to come. The magazine said they’d assign the review to someone else. They understand we’re going through a hard time. And I’ve already tried to do this once. Stupid, crazy driver, running me off the road.

  The woman moaned. “If only I’d remembered to bring along my motion-sickness medicine.” She shook her head. “I thought I was over such things. I haven’t gotten sick like this in years.”

  “We can stop and get some.”

  “No. It’s okay.” She sank deeper in the seat, holding the litter bag close, just in case. “Actually, I’m glad we can spend some time together. We’ve both been so stressed.”

  “I know. This is nice.”

  She opened one eye. “Just don’t go driving into any ditches this time, okay?”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Sim stared into the mirror of the library’s rest room. It was so wonderful to have Claire back at the library with all the regulars, and have life feel normal.

  Normal.

  Suddenly she noticed her makeup as if seeing herself for the first time. The darkly-lined eyes. The glossed lips. The patch of red hair amid the gelled shocks. And the nose ring. She’d gotten it pierced on a whim.

  A stupid whim.

  She rubbed a finger across her lips, spreading the goo around. Then she smiled. She had an idea. All she needed was a little time. Maybe Merry would let her off early.

  Merry and Claire were ready and waiting. They’d come back to Merry’s to meet up with Sim and change for the celebratory dinner at Bon Vivant. They hadn’t seen the girl since she left the library at four, and ever since they’d gotten home Sim had been ensconced in the first-floor bathroom.

  Claire looked at her watch and rapped on the bathroom door. “Sim? Come on. The reservations are for six-thirty”

  Merry sat on the love seat and buckled her sandals. “She’s taking an awfully long time. Something’s up.”

  The bathroom door opened, drawing their eyes. A creature appeared—a creature that resembled Sim but far surpassed her in beauty.

  “Whoa, baby!”

  Claire echoed Merry’s outburst as the girl paraded in front of them like a runway model. Her lilac flowered skirt swirled as she made a pirouette. Her chopped-off hair was layered, curled, and dyed a soft chestnut brown. Was that a headband? And her face… “What happened to you?”

  Sim placed herself front and center. “You like it?”


  “You are an angel.”

  Sim laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, Merry.”

  Claire nodded her agreement. “You certainly look like one. My, my, you clean up good, kiddo.”

  Sim fanned her skirt and curtsied. “All in honor of the celebration.”

  Claire’s throat tightened. “Absolutely. Now come over here and give me a hug.”

  The wistfulness returned.

  The waiting room of Bon Vivant was empty when the women arrived. Bailey was busy talking to Stanley in the dining room.

  “I didn’t think Bailey would be at work,” Claire said.

  “It’s probably less stressful to be here than worrying about the place from home.” Merry sat in the waiting room, right below Claire’s mosaic.

  Claire looked at the mosaic, then her friend, then her mosaic again. Her two lives merged. She was tempted to take credit but decided against it. She’d come this far…

  Sim glanced toward the kitchen. “I’d like to go see everyone, see if Sanchez is back. Is that okay?”

  Merry smiled. “You just want to show off the new you.”

  Sim’s blush was lovely.

  “I’d like to go along.” Claire rose. “I know the gang too.”

  Merry waved them on. “Go on. I’m fine here.”

  Sim rushed toward the kitchen, Claire close behind, but Claire got sidetracked when Stanley waved her over. Bailey was off attending to some customers.

  Claire got an update about Sanchez from Stanley, telling how Bailey had apologized big-time and lured the chef back. Then Stanley did a double take when he looked over at Bailey. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What?”

  Stanley put a finger to his lips and nodded toward Bailey, who was talking with a couple. The man had his hands resting on his ample stomach in a gesture of satisfaction. The woman fingered her wine glass. They were listening to Bailey with intent interest.

  “Actually, our chef, Sanchez, came up with that Chocolat Bordeaux. It all started when he was twelve…” Bailey glanced toward the kitchen, hesitating just a second as he noticed Claire and Stanley listening. “If you’re really interested, I could have Sanchez come out and tell you the story.”

  The couple looked at each other and beamed. “That would be wonderful.”

  Bailey went to the kitchen, returning with Sanchez in tow. He let the chef get his accolades solo as Bailey came over to Claire.

  “Evening, Claire. Your table’s ready. I saw Sim—a new and improved Sim, I must say—but where’s Merry?”

  At that moment, Merry peered around the corner of the waiting room. Bailey gestured her toward an empty table. He held their chairs.

  “Sim must still be in the kitchen. I’ll get—”

  Sanchez came over. He was practically glowing.

  “Does your hat still fit?” Bailey grinned.

  “I think so.” He nodded to the couple. “They want to see you.”

  “Me?” Bailey glanced at them.

  “They have a surprise for you.”

  A surprise?

  Sanchez gave Bailey a gentle push. “Go on. It’s your turn.”

  “But what—?”

  Sanchez turned serious. “It’s your turn, Bailey. Go on. And thanks. You made my day. You made me glad to be back.”

  With a shrug to the ladies, Bailey headed for the couple.

  “What’s going on?”

  Claire gave Merry a shrug. “I don’t know, shh. Let’s listen.”

  “You wanted to see me?”

  The man grinned at Bailey like he was about to present a winning lottery ticket. “I am a restaurant critic from Kansas City, and I—”

  “You’re—”

  “Yes, I am. And I just wanted you to know that I plan on giving Bon Vivant five stars in all categories. Your restaurant is charming, well staffed, and serves food that makes the trip well worth it. Bravo.”

  Diners at nearby tables applauded. Bailey beamed.

  Claire noticed Sim come out of the kitchen with the other staffers, no doubt drawn by the applause. But suddenly Sim’s curious smile changed to a look of horror. She took a step back into a waiter, sending his tray and all its contents crashing to the floor.

  Sim didn’t seem to notice. She just stared at the restaurant critic, stricken.

  Eyes followed eyes until all in the restaurant were looking her way.

  The critic rose from his chair. “Sim?” He frowned, as though trying to decide if the girl standing there really was who he thought she was. “Sim! What are you doing here?”

  The woman stood, her chair nearly toppling. “Sim!”

  Merry looked between them. “You know her?”

  “You bet we do. She’s our niece.”

  Sim ran. She heard footsteps running after her.

  They’ll catch me and take me back—

  “Sim! Stop!”

  She risked a glance behind. Claire huffed, trying to catch up. Sim turned the corner, putting the restaurant out of sight, and waited.

  Claire staggered the last few steps. She gasped. “I’m…not used…to running.”

  “Well, I am.” Sim crossed her arms. “And I’ll keep running as long as I have to.”

  Claire held up a hand, grabbing a breath. “You don’t have to. Merry and I are not going to let anything bad happen to you. I prom-ise.

  “But Bailey asked my uncle and aunt to his restaurant. He had them there, waiting for me.”

  “He didn’t know they were your relatives. The man said he was a restaurant critic. He came to critique Bon Vivant. You saw his face; he didn’t know you were going to be there.”

  What Claire said made sense.

  “Talk to them, Sim.”

  She pulled the headband off and flung it in the street. “What good does it do to change when everything will go back to the way it was? You’re already on their side. You don’t even know them and you’re on their side.”

  “I’m on your side. But running away again is not the answer.”

  “What choice do I have?” Sim looked toward the restaurant, ready to flee. “Now that they’ve found me, they’ll want me back.” She looked at Claire. “They’ll want me back!”

  Sim couldn’t hold the tears any longer. She fell into Claire’s arms and wished she never had to let go.

  Claire and Sim walked back to the restaurant with Claire’s arm strung protectively across Sim’s shoulders. There was no way Claire would let them take the girl. Not yet.

  An audience waited for them in the parking lot. Claire could feel Sim tense. She whispered out of the side of her mouth, “It will be okay. Stay calm.”

  Sim’s aunt ran to meet them. She held out her hands to touch her niece but withdrew them when Sim stiffened. “You look…so different! Absolutely lovely.”

  The girl didn’t say a word.

  Her aunt tried again. “We were so worried. Why did you leave?”

  “You know why I left.”

  The aunt and uncle exchanged a puzzled look. The uncle spoke up. “We have no idea, young lady. We know you’ve gone through tough times these past months, but we’ve tried our hardest, taken you in, provided—”

  “You provided nothing. It’s my parents’ money that provided for me—and for you. In grand style. You don’t care about me. All you care about is the money that comes with me.”

  “That’s not true.” Sim’s aunt sounded shocked. Claire wondered if it was because of regret at being misunderstood or anger that Sim had given them away.

  Sim’s uncle took the girl’s arm. “There’s our car, right over there. You get inside right now, and we’ll take you home and—”

  “No!” Sim shook his arm away and hid behind Claire.

  He tried to grab her, but Claire dodged out of his way. She raised her hands. “Let’s calm down. There’s obviously a lot to be worked out, and that can’t be done when everyone’s upset.”

  “We have a right to be upset,” Sim’s uncle said. “The girl ran away, and then we find h
er in a strange town, brainwashed against us.

  Merry raised a hand. “We have not brainwashed Sim, we’ve cared for her. We care about her. We only want what’s best for her.”

  “Is that why you’ve broken the law, hiding her from her legal guardians?”

  Claire stepped forward. “This may be a legal matter, but it’s also a moral one.”

  The man flashed an incredulous look. “Who are you people to talk of morals? What’s moral about keeping a girl from her family?”

  “We’ve been her family.” Claire felt her own anger building.

  The uncle laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Sim pushed her way between Merry and Claire. “They’re not kidding. I choose them. They’re my family now. I want to stay here. I don’t want to go back with you.”

  Sim’s aunt put a hand to her mouth. Claire saw the woman’s tears and felt a wave of sympathy. This was a complicated matter that couldn’t, wouldn’t, and shouldn’t be decided in a parking lot. “There’s a motel on the edge of town. Why don’t you check in, and we’ll work through this in the morning.”

  Sim’s uncle gave a curt nod. “Fine. Sim, come with us.”

  The girl hung back, shaking her head. Merry spoke for her. “She’s been staying with me and will continue to do so until a decision is made.” She got out a paper and pen. “Merry Cavanaugh. Here’s my number.” She handed the paper over. “If that’s agreeable with everyone, I think we’ll call it a night.”

  “That is not agreeable!” Sim’s uncle crumpled the paper in his palm. But his wife put a hand on his arm and took the note. They got in their car and drove away.

  As the three women walked to Merry’s car, Sim looked as if she were taking her final steps.

  No one talked as they drove back to Merry’s. A single thought bored its way into Claire’s mind: It’s over. Sim’s aunt and uncle had found her. Sim would return to them and that would be the end of everything.