by Amanda Tru
“Fresh ground or not, it’s delicious. Anytime you feel stressed and need to work it out by kneading some bread dough, please know that I’ll happily take any extra loaves off your hands.”
Her laugh rang around the room. “Deal.”
He took a few bites of the amazing chicken dish before he spoke again. “How’s your car doing?”
The frown that crossed her face made him wish he hadn’t asked the question. “Totally dead. I’m car-less for a while. Thankfully, there’s a MARTA station on this block and one near the office, so I’ll be okay.”
“I think it would be hard to function in Atlanta without a car.”
“Unless there’s a wreck on the 300. Then it’s hard to function in Atlanta with a car.” She grinned.
He chuckled, thinking of the main road dead stop traffic of every weekday rush hour in and around Atlanta. The bigger Atlanta grew in any direction, the more improved the infrastructure, the worse it seemed to get.
She shrugged. “Not much I can do about it anyway.” She poured herself more water. He noticed she didn’t eat with the same enthusiasm he felt for the meal. “Sami will give me a ride wherever I need to go, if there’s somewhere I can’t get to by train or bus. I’m totally fine with it. Besides, it’ll save me the insurance payment every month, so there’s that.”
He considered her words, wondering if he could help her in any way. Then he had to remind himself that he’d officially given up on helping people not formally classified as an elderly person in his church. Not even a sabbatical anymore. More like a life choice. Officially. Period. End of story.
Still…
Calla sat against the opposite arm of the couch with her legs pulled up under her, her body turned toward Ian, cradling her coffee cup in her hand. He sat on the other end. When he’d arrived hours before, she thought she’d come out of her skin with nerves. She’d opened the door, and there he stood, like something she’d dreamed about since the first time she saw him walking the halls at Dixon Contracting. His hair had shown damp traces of a recent shower, and she could smell his aftershave when he’d walked into the apartment. Tonight, the dark-green button-down shirt made his hazel eyes shine a bright green.
Despite her initial nerves, they enjoyed such a relaxed and enjoyable meal. She felt relief she never gave in to her weak impulse to cancel the dinner and just admit to Ian wires had crossed and she never intended to invite him in the first place. After finishing the chicken, she served them fresh berries with a basil infused whipped cream. She probably should have toned down the cheffy foodie-ness of the meal, but the look on his face when he took the first bite made her glad that she’d stepped outside of what most would consider a normal boundary.
They enjoyed their dessert on the couch – much more comfortable seating than the metal chairs at the card table.
“My best friend, Al, and I are the young, single, and in shape men in our church. So, we call it volen-told. We get volen-told a lot. We get told that we volunteered for most tasks that involve heavy lifting. I think I’ve had a free Saturday morning twice in the last four months.”
“What was this morning?”
“Helping an elderly widow move into her son’s place. We packed her house up into a storage container. So, we had one truck going to the son’s, and another to the storage facility.” He set his coffee cup down on the table next to them, and she noticed he hadn’t had more than a sip or two. “She’s a sweet woman. Her son is quite old himself, and they have no other local family, so the church stepped up to help her.”
“What would you do on a normal Saturday if you didn’t have to help an elderly widow move? Rescue cats from trees? Feed orphans?”
He grinned and shrugged. “In the spring, I’m on a baseball team. We always play on Saturdays. Al’s talked about wanting to find a basketball team for the winter months. But, I’d rather just stick with baseball. I tend to hole up in the winter. It’s about the only time I allow myself to indulge in long stretches of reading for pleasure and not for work or education. I have a hoop at my house, and Al and I play one-on-one every so often, but I’m not really into being on a team.”
Thinking of the bulging bookshelf in her bedroom, she perked up. “I love to read! I wish I had more time to do it. What do you like to read?”
“Fiction? I like thrillers. Medical mysteries.” He smiled. “Sometimes Biblical fiction, if I like the author.”
“I like cozy mysteries. You know, the kind where the sweet old woman who owns the little tea parlor somehow stumbles upon a murder and works out the killer by having one-sided conversations with her cat?”
He stared at her blankly for a moment then threw his head back and laughed. “I can honestly say that I have never read anything like that.”
“They’re brilliant. I cut my teeth on Agatha Christie novels, and the insight and intelligence of Miss Marple always stuck with me. Whenever I come across a good character like that in a series, I’ll read every book the author has written in just a few days. It’s crazy.” She gestured toward the desk. “I work a lot. Evenings and weekends, I caption movies and television shows, so when I intentionally take off to read, it’s about all I do.”
She watched him look at her desk and back at her. “Caption movies?”
“Yeah, you know. Like the closed captioning.”
“Huh. How’d you get into that?”
Remembering the process, she decided not to bore him with the details. “I wanted something I could do early mornings or late nights to earn a little extra money. A friend told me about this website, so I applied. I type really fast, so that helps.”
“That’s actually kind of fascinating.” He looked at his watch and shifted forward. “It’s later than I want it to be. Better call it a night. Thank you for an amazing meal, Calla.”
She set her coffee cup down and stood as he stood, then gestured toward the door in a nervous movement – as if he may have forgotten how to find the front door. He unlocked the deadbolt and turned to face her. “I really enjoyed talking with you. I’d love to take you to lunch tomorrow. Maybe you could go to church with me, and we could have lunch afterward? I’m happy to give you a ride.”
Her heart beat a little bit faster. He wanted to spend more time with her? “I ah, have a church. I teach the preschool Sunday School, so I can’t come to church with you. But lunch would be very nice.”
They discussed where and when to meet, and then he opened the door. Did she see hesitation in his eyes? A reluctance in his movements? For just a fraction of a second, it looked as if he might reach for her, but the moment passed. She put her hand on the doorknob and smiled. “I really enjoyed cooking for you, Ian. Good night.”
Calla sat in the back row of her church and felt her cheeks burn with shame. She hated the sermons about offerings, tithing, and giving. No matter what she knew in her heart or her internal desire to tithe, she struggled to the point of drowning in debt so she couldn’t possibly do it. How could she give ten percent of what she had when what she had was negative forty-six thousand, seven hundred according to last week’s calculations? She looked around feeling like everyone knew this about her, even though no one possibly could.
If only she could fix it. She thought about her situation and felt anger brimming on the edge of rage burn in her heart, the kind of anger she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it burned because she had such a good night last night, perhaps because she knew that, eventually, Ian would find out. He’d find out and then what? What would he think? He certainly wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her afterward.
Trying to push back the anger, grief pushed through, and sad tears pricked her eyes. She pulled off her glasses and pressed her fingers against her eyes. Her father’s death had come as a surprise. Her stepmother’s betrayal came as more of a shock in the wake of his death.
Three years had passed. One might think she would have recovered from the shock and accepted the reality of the situation by now. However, sitting here in th
e back of the church with all of these thoughts running through her head, her heart suddenly overwhelmed, she found herself on her knees in front of her pew sobbing. She felt hands on her shoulders and heard whispered prayers, but she didn’t look up to see who ministered to her. She just started praying from deep inside her soul asking for God’s help and release from this pain. Petitioning to Him as Jehovah Jireh, God her Provider, for provision to fix it and make it go away, begging Him for wisdom to know how to help herself through this trying time.
When the storm of emotions passed, she felt empty. Not exactly empty, more like hollowed out. Her stomach felt cold, swirling with a winter wind, and a cold sweat covered her skin. Her hair clung to the back of her neck, and she reached back and lifted it off, feeling the cool air conditioning. She stood and hugged the woman who had prayed with her, knowing she knew her name but unable to retrieve it from the chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind. She thanked the woman for her prayers then snatched up her Bible and purse and slipped out the door.
Calla had planned to meet Ian for lunch, but she wanted to cool off first. She didn’t want him to see the evidence of her crying jag. She walked down the street to the restaurant a full thirty minutes before they arranged to meet and slipped into the bathroom. She saw her reflection in the mirror and realized she looked as bad as she thought she would with her bright red nose, puffy lips, and swollen and red eyes. A little trickle of a tear slipped out of the corner of her right eye and slid down her cheek. She frowned with impatience at the fact that she still had more tears inside. Thankful for the little makeup kit she carried in her purse, she turned the cold water on in the sink and let it wash over her wrists, cooling her down.
Her text tone sounded as she finished drying her face. She slipped her glasses back on and glanced at the sender. Sami. She would have seen her escape from the church from her position in the choir loft. The message read:
Figured that sermon would get you. Call when you can. Enjoy your lunch.
Calla typed out a quick reply thanking Sami and glanced at her face in the mirror again. She had cooled off a little. The cold water helped. The ugly cry face had started to fade away. After reapplying her makeup, she brushed her hair then pulled the sides of her hair back from her face and clipped them with barrettes. Her bright red dress and polka dot red and white scarf had made her feel happy this morning. Thinking of her lunch date with Ian, she chose bright colors over more muted fall tones. She smoothed her hands down the side of her dress and checked her reflection in the mirror, turning this and that way, then grabbed her purse and Bible and walked out of the ladies room.
She entered the lobby area of the restaurant just as she saw Ian come to the door. Since she’d just seen him last night, the joy at seeing him walk through the door surprised her. She’d walked him to the door of her apartment about twelve hours ago, but for some reason, it felt like a lifetime had passed. He wore khaki pants, a blue dress shirt, and a dark blue blazer. The blue turned his eyes a brown-gray. He’d unbuttoned his top button, and she could see the end of his tie hanging out of his jacket pocket.
Maybe God had done something in reply to her desperate plea earlier. Maybe something inside of her head changed. Whatever the case, she felt a big grin appear on her face the moment she saw him. When he saw her, his eyes lit up with a smile, and she easily went into his arms for a hug.
“For some reason, I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I saw you last,” he said.
Her eyes widened as she grinned and said, “I was just thinking that exact same thing. I had a very ugly crying deep prayer at church and wondered if it was just something that happened to me there, or something else.”
She waited while he spoke to the hostess then stepped forward as he gestured toward her. He put a light hand on the small of her back as they followed the hostess to the little table next to the window. She felt acutely aware of the feel of his fingers through the fabric of her dress. As he pulled out her chair, she glanced out the window to see a family walking down the street pushing a baby carriage. Despite the late November day, the mid-sixties temperature outside made a Sunday stroll in the downtown area a pleasant time.
Ian studied her for a few moments before he remarked, “Ugly cry at church, huh?”
She felt a tiny bit of emotion creeping back into her throat, so she took a sip of her water to get herself back in control. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Sometimes sermons get the best of me. It’s hard to know the right thing to do is if you don’t happen to be doing the right thing at this exact moment.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like anything.” She paused then paraphrased the book of Romans. “There’s not one righteous. No, not one.”
Just in time, the waitress approached. She was blonde and young and very bubbly with a sparkling green bow in her hair and bright pink lipstick. “What can I get y’all?”
She hadn’t even glanced at the menu. Ian never even opened his. He said, “I’m ready. Do you need a few minutes?”
“No.” Looking at the waitress, she said, “I’ll take a turkey sandwich and a side salad with the house dressing on the side.”
Ian scooped up her menu and handed them both to the waitress as he said, “Burger, medium well, extra mayo. Fresh veggies on the side. No fries.”
The waitress nodded, wrote down the orders, and asked, “Anything more than water to drink?”
Calla shook her head. “I’m good if you can bring me some lemon.”
Ian smiled. “I would love some of that good iced tea.” As the perky blonde walked away, he looked at Calla again. “What is your testimony?”
She could have thought of a dozen questions beyond that one. It stumped her. “I beg your pardon?”
He sat back in his chair. “Your testimony. What has God brought you from? Where is He taking you?”
A server brought a small dish of lemons, and she took the opportunity to contemplate her answer as she added two slices to her water. “I went to a youth group with a friend when I was fifteen. I knew when I left there that night that I’d changed. My home life was hard. My mom died when I was three, and my dad remarried when I was fourteen. His new wife was one of his college students. She acted like a bratty stepsister instead of a stepmother. So, I went to this youth group party, and my friend introduced me to Jesus. Home life changed overnight.”
Ian smiled. “I like that.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else, so she finally asked him. “What about you? What’s your testimony?”
“Orphaned as a teen. Fourteen. My paternal grandmother finished raising me. She’s old money, so, like my father before me, I grew up in a staffed household and attended private boarding schools. But, she is also a devoted follower of Christ and serves Him like no one I’ve ever seen. All of my uncles work with her, and their various businesses help support her in whatever she needs for her ministries. Our family Christmas vacations are spent in Haiti at an orphanage, and Easter is down in Ecuador. We don’t do a lot of traditional American holiday things save Thanksgiving and Fourth of July.
“As I entered adulthood and realized the true uniqueness of my upbringing, I found myself in awe of my family’s faithfulness and often pray I can live up to it.” He sat forward and folded his arms on the table in front of him. “I love Dixon Brothers Contracting because they’re as mission-minded as my grandmother. But, I also like going to my own church, away from my family, and creating my own legacy instead of living in the shadow of hers.”
She let what he said sink in, then slowly nodded. “I can see that, even if I have no actual experience with it.” The tension from leaving the church service dissipated as she leaned forward with her elbows propped on the table and put her chin in her hands. “I wish my dad had come to know God before he died. But, he never did. Not that I know of, anyway. And, I assume if he did, I’d have known.”
Ian’s eyes sobered. “That would be hard. I’m sorry.”
“It made everything about his death harder.” She smiled warmly. “Two orphans. Too bad it’s not raining out there. I’d make some poetic reference about finding each other in a storm.”
He reached forward and put a hand on top of her arm, giving her a gentle squeeze. “There are all different kinds of storms. I’d say that would be accurate despite how warm and bright it is outside. After all, it was a Storm that brought us together.”
Knowing he referred to her car, she smiled warmly. A server approached with their meal, and they both sat back to give room for their plates. As soon as she refilled waters and walked away, Calla put both of her hands in his. He asked, “Would you like to bless the food?”
Clearing her throat, she bowed her head and felt heat flood her cheeks as she softly thanked God for providing safe harbors in the storms of life, and for their food. When she said, “Amen,” he gave her hands a warm squeeze before releasing her fingers.
Cold wind and rain drove Calla into the building. As the glass doors shut behind her with a whooshing sound, she shook her umbrella over the rubber mat and pulled the damp collar of her coat closer to her. She couldn’t feel the heat in the building until she walked further away from the doors and into the lobby. She couldn’t believe how fast the weather had changed from yesterday to this morning. Thankfully, she’d found an umbrella in the back of her closet and hadn’t had to walk from the train station without one. As she approached the elevator, she felt a hand on her elbow and looked to see Ian standing right next to her. Immediately, a bright smile covered her face as the joy in seeing him lit her up from the inside. Her reaction surprised her, considering she’d seen him just yesterday at lunch.
He wore a cream dress shirt with black and yellow grid lines and a tie covered in the Georgia Tech yellow jacket mascots. Somehow, he made that look classy and stylish. Even in the crowded lobby, the scent of his aftershave tingled her nose.
