“I don’t know. I’d like to think so but sometimes I’m not so sure. I do the best I can.”
“I’m sure you do,” he says. “Raising kids today is never easy. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I’m not. It seems there’s just not enough time in the day.”
“Isn’t that true for everyone?”
“I’m sure it is,” I answer.
“I find myself going from one job to another, one meeting to another, and from one city to another,” he continues. “I have to remind myself now and then to stop and relax.”
I take a deep breath and say, “With three kids and a full-time job, I don’t get much relaxation time.”
“Maybe you just need a vacation; a little time away from it all.”
“Vacation? What’s that?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Faith, it sounds like things are tough for you right now,” he continues. “You probably feel like what you do doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it does. You have what some people can only dream of. You have a beautiful family and kids who love you.”
His words are comforting and help to soften things between us. “You’re very kind,” I tell him.
After a short pause, he continues. “This might sound like mushy words to make you feel better but it’s true. What you do is important. You affect more people than you know.”
“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” I say. “Most of the time, I feel like I can’t give my kids the things they need.”
“Well, no one can ever give kids everything they need.”
“Tell that to my ex-husband,” I joke.
“Listen, your kids are young,” he says. “One day when they look back, it won’t be the ‘things’ that matter. They’ll remember the time you spent with them.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t provide a lot of comfort right now.”
“Like I said, you need a break now and then a chance to recharge.”
I take a deep breath, and say, “Right now, I’m just living in survival mode.”
“Survival mode?” he asks with a look of confusion. “What’s survival mode?”
“I guess I’m doing good just to survive,” I answer, as I take my napkin and wipe the tears from my eyes.
He removes a beautiful white handkerchief from his suit pocket and hands it to me. “Wow, that’s so sad. No one should be in survival mode.”
I accept his napkin and dab my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Not at all. You just have a lot on your shoulders.”
About this time, the waiter comes and offers us more wine and dessert. Before Christian can say anything, I thank the waiter for offering but tell him I’m full. I tell Christian I need to be going. He makes a check-mark sign with his pointer finger, and a few minutes later, the waiter returns with the check. After he signs, we walk to the exit, and he opens the door in front of me. A large black Mercedes with tinted windows is waiting out front. He turns to me and asks if I’m okay to drive.
“I’m fine…really,” I tell him.
“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks.
Letting a man, especially a man you don’t know, walk you to your car doesn’t always turn out well. I learned this the hard way. “It’s not necessary,” I say. “I’m parked nearby.”
“Well it’s been a slice of heaven,” he says.
Now is the uncomfortable moment I’ve experienced many times since my divorce when my date will lean toward me for a kiss even if I had a terrible time. I’m waiting for it but instead of kissing me, he extends his hand. I shake his hand, and say, “Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful.”
Before getting in his car, he turns to me one last time and says, “It’s rare in today’s times to meet someone as beautiful and passionate as you. Be careful driving home.”
I walk to my car three blocks away. It dawns on me that I’m parked in the same parking lot where Paul and I first met, and he put his hand in my shirt. Paul … everything always goes back to Paul. I don’t think I’ll ever get over him. I start my car and my phone announces a new text from Christian:
Christian
-----------------------------------------------------------
Today: 8:23 p.m.
Au revoir
I don’t understand his text. I wonder if it was a misspelling or maybe he sent it to me in error. When I pull into my driveway, I enter the message into Google. It returns the following: “Au revoir definition—goodbye for the present. Until we meet each other again.”
– CHAPTER 30 –
The rest of my week is just like all the weeks before. Wake up … shower … work … cook … homework … sleep … repeat. Luckily, I have no sick kids, no disasters, and the car starts just fine thanks to the battery I just bought with the money I don’t have. I don’t hear from Christian. Not a call, not a text … nothing. I’m sure I scared him away. Crying on the first date is always a winner.
Just when I’ve written Christian off, I return from lunch, and there’s a large glass vase on my desk full of roses and a small card. I remove the card and count the roses. One … two … three … four …. twenty-two … twenty-three … twenty-four. Two dozen red roses!
I haven’t received roses in years. During my marriage I received roses on anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and, my least favorite, “I’m sorry we had an argument” day. But that was years ago. The last dozen roses I received were sent to my house two weeks after Ryan and I separated. I actually thought they were from Paul. No, it was one last attempt by Ryan to save a marriage I had just taken off life support. I threw those roses right in the trash after reading the card that said something about love, marriage, and how no one will ever love me like he does. The whole thing made me sick.
I haven’t been in any relationship or on a date in almost a year. I wanted to spend this time focusing on my children and myself. Now I return to two dozen long stem roses for everyone in the office to see. The outside of the card simply reads, “Faith.” The small card inside reads:
Beautiful blue eyes
Amazing smile
Wonderful Evening
I face all the usual questions that follow such a grand delivery.
“Wow, so who’s the lucky guy?”
“Well, well, well … someone’s been keeping a secret.”
“Two dozen roses! Someone is smitten.”
When everyone returns to their desks, I take my phone from my purse and scroll down to Christian’s name. I send him a quick text:
Christian
-----------------------------------------------------------
Today, 7:02 p.m.
Au revoir
Today, 6:48 p.m.
The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. Hope you are doing well. Au revoir
Before I push send, I realize it’s better not to encourage a relationship that’s not going anywhere. I delete the entire message, and put my phone back in my purse. The last thing I need is to bring flowers home for all my kids to see—and for Ryan to hear about. I leave the roses on my desk until Friday after work and then put them in the trunk of my car. I stop at a gas station on my way home, and throw them away.
Almost a week later, I’m folding clothes when I receive a call from Christian. I wasn’t going to answer his calls or texts but after the beautiful flowers, I should at least give him a “thank you” and explain why I can’t see him again. Right before it stops ringing, I answer the call.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he says.
“Hi Christian, how are you?”
“I’m grand,” he smiles. “Just wanted to call to say hi. How you been?”
The word “grand” takes me by surprise. How do you top grand? “I’m okay, just busy with work and kids.”
“I really enjoyed our time together the other evening, I was hoping you might be interested in dinner again.”
After a long pause, I give him the answer he doesn’t want to hear. “Christian, the flowers you sent are reall
y beautiful but since we’re being honest, I should tell you that I’m not at a place in my life where I’m interested in dating anyone. I just have too much going on right now with my kids and my job. I don’t have any time left for a relationship.”
“Faith, I don’t want to cause you any problems,” he assures me, sounding understanding and sympathetic. “I know where you’re coming from. I haven’t dated anyone since my wife passed away. I’m not trying to jump into something either. I haven’t met anyone I even wanted to have dinner with, much less date. You’re obviously a beautiful woman on the outside, and you seem like you’re just as beautiful on the inside. I really admire the faith you have despite all you’ve been through. Right now, I need a friend more than I need someone to date. This can be the start of something new. If you want that something to be the start of a friendship then that’s enough for me.”
We sit in silence as I take everything in. Finally, I open up again. “I guess I have to eat again, and I can always use a friend.”
“Absolutely,” he says.
“No pressure?”
“No pressure,” he agrees.
“Well … my kids go to their father’s house this Friday. I don’t really have any plans after work.”
“That works for me,” he says. “I can pick you up at your office.”
After I hang up the phone, I’m again left unsure what happened. Not only did I fail to explain why I can’t see him again, but I agreed to see him the very next day! There’s something about him that disarms me. He’s smart, handsome, successful, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. At the same time, he’s not pushy. He’s self-assured but also sincere. We share many of the same values including our faith in God. How many times have I prayed for a good Christian man? I already made the mistake of falling in love with Paul who didn’t even believe in God, and that ended terribly.
A few years ago, I would have thrown caution to the wind but I’m no longer that naïve little girl who believed in happily ever afters. There are no Prince Charmings, and toads only give you warts if you kiss them.
I don’t know how I got so jaded. Oh, yes I do, their names are Jake, Ryan, Paul, and a few other men along the way.
I go back to folding laundry, which is the one thing I have plenty of. The kids are asleep in bed, and I’m left thinking about everything.
“Be smart, Faith … you’ve been down this road before. … Just be smart.”
– CHAPTER 31 –
I bring a makeup bag, hair straighteners, and a change of clothes to work on Friday. I had planned on spending more time getting ready but it’s been such a busy day, by the time our last patient leaves I have to rush to get ready. I go to the bathroom, change my clothes, finish my hair, and look at the clock on the wall, which reads 6:35 p.m. I look out the window. The same black Mercedes that was sitting outside the restaurant is now parked on the street outside my office. I rush back to the bathroom, and put on my makeup at a much faster pace. At 6:45 p.m., I take a step back from the bathroom mirror. For the most part, I like what I see. My hair is straightened, my makeup is subtle, and I’m wearing a black skirt just above my knees, black hose, high heels, and the blouse I bought to match my skirt. My skirt and blouse show my figure without revealing too much. I walk out, lock the door behind me. When I turn around, Christian is standing at my side.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say. “Our last patient took longer than I expected.”
He opens my car door and says, “No, no, no … you’re fine.”
We drive down the main highway in town to the lake. We turn into a group of trees that form a tunnel over the road, and arrive at a restaurant that I didn’t even know existed. It looks more like a small, quaint house than a restaurant. We stop in front, and Christian comes around, opens my door, and takes my hand to help me to my feet. A woman in khaki shorts and a collared shirt greets us as we enter, and says, “Welcome to The Boat Club. Do you have a reservation?”
“I do, under the name of Christian,” he advises.
She looks down, notes something with her pen, grabs two menus, and walks us through the restaurant to the back door. The restaurant is decorated with boat lifesavers, oars, and pictures of sailboats, and trophies everywhere. All the tables are wood with matching wooden chairs. The restaurant is not even half full. Most people are dressed pretty casually. It’s a big difference from the last restaurant but, hey, I asked for casual.
The hostess opens the back door, and leads us across a crowded deck with umbrellas scattered around and the most breathtaking view of the lake down below. She continues until we reach a table at the front corner of the deck with the best view in the entire restaurant. She picks up a little “RESERVED” card sitting on the table, and replaces it with two menus. “Enjoy your meal,” she says before walking away.
It’s a beautiful September evening. A light breeze keeps us cool. The lake is full from the recent rains, and sailboats are scattered on the water with the sun catching their colorful sails. There are white cliffs to our right that add to the beauty of the lake. The sun is bright blue with a few white clouds dotting the sky. I sit in my chair, and look out at the beauty of it all.
“You wanted something more casual,” Christian says after the waitress is gone. “I hope this is okay.”
I look out at the birds soaring over the water, sit back in my chair, and say, “This is perfect. It’s so beautiful.”
“Well, you certainly look beautiful,” he says paying me another compliment.
“I think it’s wonderful. How do you know about this place?” I ask. “I didn’t even know it was here.”
“You have to be a member,” he explains. “Most people here have boats. It’s a hidden jewel.”
“I’d say so,” I agree.
A waiter arrives who looks to be in his mid-twenties. No tuxedo or tie. He’s wearing khakis and a light blue shirt with a small sailboat on his chest, and “The Boat Club” embroidered below it. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asks.
“How about we start with two Mexican martinis and the crab nachos?” Christian asks.
The suggestion is perfect. It’s like he can read my mind. The only drink I like more than a good margarita is a Mexican martini. I never order them because you get half the drink for twice the price, but Mexican martinis taste great. If he wants to buy me one, I’m happy to oblige. “Sounds good,” I say.
“Two Mexican martinis,” he tells the waiter who writes it down and walks away.
We both look at the menu. After a few minutes, Christian asks me how the menu looks. I tell him I’m thinking about the shrimp scampi. He closes his menu, and says, “Great minds think alike. I’m going to order the same thing.”
When the waiter returns with our drinks, Christian orders crab nachos, shrimp scampi, and mixed vegetables. He raises his martini glass to mine, and we toast the evening.
Christian leans back in his chair and seems to relax for the first time since I met him. Our conversation is light and pleasant. No talk about kids, work, exes, or anything that might distract from the peaceful evening. Our first dinner was mostly about me. This time I want to know more about him.
“Christian, tell me more about you. You said you like movies. What’s your favorite movie?”
“This probably sounds stupid,” he laughs, “but I really like all the classics. My favorite all-time movie is Gone with the Wind.”
“Wow! I can’t believe this. Gone with the Wind is my favorite movie too. I’ve probably seen it five times.”
“So have I. I also love the book,” he says.
“I’ve always wanted to read the book. I want to get around to it someday.”
When our drinks are empty, he orders two more without asking. The drinks are perfect with the nachos, shrimp scampi, rice, and mixed vegetables. The sun is just beginning to touch the lake. It turns bright yellow as it disappears below the clear blue water. When it’s finally gone, everyone in the restaurant applauds. The sky turns bright orange
and red.
“The sky is so beautiful,” I say. “It reminds me of the scene in the middle of Gone with the Wind where Scarlet picks up a handful of dirt and swears she’ll never go hungry again.”
“Yes! Yes!” he responds. “As God is my witness, they’re not going to lick me. I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill, as God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”
“Oh, my gosh! I thought I was a fan. You can quote the movie?”
“Well, not the whole movie,” he says with a laugh. “Just some lines.”
As the sky turns dark, the lights around the deck turn on and it’s almost as beautiful as the sunset. Christian holds my attention by telling me about life in New York, London, and Paris. Years ago, I went to each but it’s very different hearing what it’s like to actually live there. I hang on to his every word as I begin to see a side of him I haven’t seen yet. He’s a great talker, and has a funny sense of humor.
He takes off his sports coat and drapes it across the empty chair at our table. When he laughs it makes me laugh. At one point, while telling me about Christmas in Vienna, he reaches over and puts his hand on my arm. I could subtly move away but I’m caught up in his storytelling. We’ve been here for hours but I’m in no hurry to leave. The waiter brings out a tray with five desserts to choose from. This time I agree to chocolate cake but only if we can share. She brings us a delicious slice of cake with vanilla cream and two cups of coffee. It’s a perfect ending to our dinner.
On our way home, Christian stops at the first stop sign, and asks, “I know you need to be going but do you have a moment? There’s a place I’d like you to see.”
“Sure,” I respond with a smile. We drive down the same road we came in on, except he turns left and stops at the end. There’s no parking lot, but he stops at a small opening just big enough for two or three cars. He gets out, opens my door, and helps me out of the car again. This time when he releases my hand, I feel a small pang of disappointment.
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 16
