by Amanda Tru
“He thought…” She shook her head, cocking it much like a confused puppy.
How did I never realize how beautiful you are?
“He thought it was the accident—that you did it?”
Again, with the extraneous “the.” Interesting.
Another step closer, her hand rested on his sleeve. “Wayne, what is it? I see the pain in your eyes. What is so bad? They confess their love. They have a fight. This is what people do. It will be fix when everything is over. You’ll see.”
“But Reid is mad. He thinks I lied.” Hours of conviction nearly exploded in him as he gazed down into her dark eyes. “I guess I did—by letting him believe one.”
“Does Kelsey know?”
Wayne shook his head. And with that, the moment… had it been one? It was gone. Señora Rojas stepped away, flung a hand in the air, and marched out of the room, calling back, “So, go tell her. I see her go past just a few minutes ago. I can finish that. Go.”
He’d made it as far as the sidewalk before Wayne backtracked and grabbed a sunflower from the cooler. “Peace offering.”
“She’ll slap you with it if you’re not careful. Go.”
All the way down the street, Wayne rehearsed what he’d say, but as he stepped up to the door and saw her sitting beneath a lone pot light, picking her guitar, his mouth went dry. If she wasn’t a kid, and I saw that every day, I might have fallen for her myself. Okay, God. Help.
Her short hair swept along her jaw as she played, eyes closed. But when it registered that someone had stepped into the room, Kelsey popped her head up. Disappointment, surprise, happiness—they rippled across her features, one after another. “Wayne!” Fear followed. “What is it? What happened?”
“Huh?”
Relief—that was good, wasn’t it? She held her hand against the strings and tried to explain. “I thought maybe you came with bad news about Reid.”
“Good news, actually. The police cleared him.”
“Yeah. He sent me a text.”
Well, that’s better than I expected. Maybe… He’d just about decided to go back when he realized he’d have to face his shop manager, and Señora Rojas would march him down by his ear if she felt it necessary. Why do I put up with her?
“Wayne?”
He crossed the space between them and thrust the sunflower into her face. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Butting in.”
Kelsey gave him a confused look but took the stem and smiled. “I used to love roses best. Now I can’t decide between daisies and sunflowers.”
Once more, she gazed up at him, questioning. Wayne tried yet again. “Butting in. With you and Reid. The sunflowers.”
“I understand. Accidents—”
“Deliberate accident,” he corrected. “I did it deliberately. I saw him hurting, every day. He wanted to say how he felt so many times, but when I found out he didn’t because some woman tried to guilt him into a year of singleness…”
Her head snapped up. “I thought he chose to do it.”
With his conscience protesting that he’d gone too far, Wayne backed up. “Yeah. You can look at it that way. But hearing about how she handpicked Scriptures to support her ideas and called it a prophecy—it set off every warning bell I have.” He turned to go, but at the door, he glanced back and watched her as she stroked a golden petal. “I hope you’ll forgive me. If this problem between you guys is my fault, I’ll never forgive myself.
“I forgive you, Wayne. And you weren’t the problem with us. I am. I know it, but it’s not so easy to ignore those ‘warning bells’ as you put it.”
“Try, will you? Don’t let your personal issues isolate you from people. It just becomes worse. Ask me how I know.” And before she could take him up on the challenge, Wayne jerked open the door and strode back down the street to his shop… and Señora Rojas.
Nerves made playing impossible. The walls of The Prayer Room became less of a comfort and more prison-like… stifling. Still, Kelsey sat there, hands resting on the strings, occasionally fumbling for a note here, a chord there. Always prayerful in spirit but unable to pray.
Five o’clock came, and much to her disgust, she found herself in the restroom, checking her hair, bemoaning not having brought something less… medicinal to wear, and vowing to create a mini makeup touch-up for her purse. A brush through her hair—the short bob didn’t need or really allow for much more. I wonder if he’d like it better longer. Growing out would be awful, but I could put it up for work after that…
A prayer exercise a Sunday school teacher had taught them to help develop the habit of daily prayer came back to her, and Kelsey found herself following the little routine without trouble. You know every hair on my head—help me to know You even a fraction so well. The little wrinkles on her forehead reminded her of the many prayers for help through grammar quizzes. Help me keep my mind trained only on You—not me, not my fears, not my desires. You.
Her eyes—did they look that sad to others? Kelsey prayed for the ability to see others as Jesus did. Especially Reid. Please. Don’t let me bring up the mistakes of his past—mistakes You have covered. Who am I to hold against him what You don’t.
A smile formed as she remembered daily praying to “sniff out everything nasty in her life and eradicate it.” And truth—help me only to hear and speak truth.
Hands shaking as she regarded them, Kelsey prayed for opportunities to use them to serve others—to show love. Please keep me from being that “talk to the hand” person. That’s not who Your Word teaches me to be.
As she finished, her prayer for feet that run to kindness and love and flee from selfishness and fear still filling her soul, the backdoor chime rang. Disappointment flooded her until she remembered asking for help in serving, in being kind. No time like the present, eh, Lord?
She missed him at first. After a glance around the room, Kelsey decided whoever had started to come in had gone away again. Guitar in hand, the notes came. The words followed. Lost in worship and prayer, she wouldn’t have noticed if anyone entered or not, but as the last note died, Reid’s soft murmur reached her.
“I missed that.”
In her heart, Kelsey leaped from the chair and flung herself across the space separating them. Apologies poured from her. In her heart. But in actuality, she sat rooted to her chair, only her gaze rising to meet his. Emotion choked her at the sight of him leaning against the same pillar he so often had, hands stuffed into his pocket and eyes on her. So many things she wanted to say—so many. But only one word deigned to obey her pleas.
“Sorry.”
He nodded. “I get it. I do.”
The words—everything—it flowed. Kelsey didn’t remember putting down her guitar, standing, none of it. But she found herself in the middle of the room, arms around Reid, apologizing. Listening as he prayed for them. Praying with him.
A voice near the door snapped them out of their little world. “Well, it’s about time.”
Reid turned, his arm around Kelsey’s waist as if not willing to be too separated yet. “Good evening, Sister Arlene.”
“You taking over for her?”
Kelsey nodded. “Except, I think I’ll stay until he’s done.” Beneath her breath, she whispered, “Do you want to do something afterward? Maybe get coffee and meet Uncle Mel?”
“Get out of here. Both of you. He’s been here all day every day for the last couple of weeks. Go. I’ve got this.”
She might have squealed if Reid hadn’t demurred. “Are you sure? I thought you didn’t like weeknights.”
“My boy got me one of those Hopper things. I can record my shows and watch them later—without commercials, too. Best thing ever. Now get out of here.” She stepped forward to hug them. “Our first Prayer Room romance. Better than TV any day.”
Again, Reid hesitated, but when Kelsey teased that he was looking for another out, he had the guitar packed and in hand before she knew what hit her. “Can we stop by m
y place first? I didn’t change before coming, and if I have to meet this uncle of yours, I shouldn’t smell like stale food.”
“Mel’s good people,” Sister Arlene informed them. “Of course, you know that, Kelsey. You tell Mel that there isn’t a better boy for you out there. He’ll listen to me.”
As they stepped into the night, a giddy feeling washed over her. “I feel like we’re skipping school after second period. And I wonder what Sister Arlene would think if she knew Uncle Mel’s been rooting for you through this whole mess—the one I made.”
Reid didn’t respond, but she hadn’t expected that he would. But a smile formed, and it spread from him to her heart. There. If that wasn’t an easy way to make “meeting the family” easier, then I don’t know what was. Thanks for that, Lord.
As they stood in line to order coffee at a shop in Brunswick, Reid scrambled for some idea to make the evening more “date-like.” They’d need to eat at some point—definitely. But there had to be something they could do to just be together and make a memory or two. Isn’t that what Mom said made the best dates? Ones that just create a neat memory? So, what do I do?
It hadn’t been a real date, but his mother had often spoken of a night window shopping with her father after dinner at a nice restaurant. That might work. Make a game of it.
Their turn at the counter came, and every scent in the place assaulted and overwhelmed his senses. “Just odor me anything.”
“Odor? You mean order?”
“That, too. I can’t think.” His heart demanded he make a cheesy comment about being too close to her to think, but his brain stopped him in time. Don’t be stupid. Something in her expression told him she guessed his thoughts. With a shrug, Reid tried to deflect. “Well, it’s true.”
“Cute, too. Cheesy…”
Another shrug. “That’s why I didn’t let myself say it.”
As they waited for their cups of hot, caffeinated deliciousness, he offered his idea. “Why don’t we go down on Stinton and walk around down there—window shop. You can ‘buy’ anything you want with one condition.”
“It’s all in your head?”
“That, too,” he agreed. “But no. That’s part of window shopping. The rules for this is you can pick out anything for anyone but yourself.” The moment he vocalized it the idea sounded a lot less interesting than it had in his imagination. “Unless that’s just stupid.”
The barista handed over their cups as Kelsey gave hearty agreement. “I think it sounds fun. Let’s walk over—just two blocks.”
If he prayed that she’d forgotten her gloves, well, he hoped the Lord would understand.
The first interesting window came half a block from Stinton Street. An antique store was lit up with Christmas lights and decorated like an old-fashioned living room—tree, settee, end table, old toys all around the base of the tree, the works. Kelsey froze and pointed to an ornament almost touching the window on a low-hanging branch. “Look at that! Hand-painted. Wouldn’t that be perfect for Wayne? I mean, who else would truly treasure a hand-painted poinsettia?” She bent in contortions he’d never have attempted, trying to see the price on the tag. “Can you shine your phone on that? I think…”
Reid found the flashlight app and positioned his phone at all angles until she stood up. “I’m coming in for that on Saturday. Wayne needs it. And I want to show him I forgive him. I don’t think I actually told him.”
He stiffened. “Forgive him for what?”
“Didn’t he tell you?” She turned to face him, and if she hadn’t been explaining Wayne’s visit, Reid might not have been able to resist a kiss right there. “It’s kind of cute when you think of it.”
“Cute?” Reid sighed. “I guess. I’m not sorry he did it—not now. But at the time, I felt like my choice had been taken from me.” He nudged her forward. “Of course, the minute I saw you with them, I was glad. Still…”
A blast of wind hit them from behind as they rounded the corner. Each gust pushed, shoved, drove them onward as if striving to prevent the mental destruction of their budgets. Reid stopped first. In a clothing boutique window, a fuzzy sweater hung from an impossibly skinny mannequin. He’d seen Kelsey in a gauzy summer top of that ultra-pale pink, and nothing had set off her skin better. “That. Right there. For you. If they were open, I’d break the rules, go in, and buy it.”
She stepped into the doorway and held out her hand for his phone again. App on, he handed it to her. By the low whistle and emphatic shake of her head, Reid surmised the price to be far from reasonable. “At a hundred fifty bucks, you’d better not.”
“For a sweater?”
“Yeah. I thought you’d see sense. I’d be afraid to wear it.” In a move he doubted she noticed, Kelsey wiped at her coat front and muttered, “I’m too clumsy with spills and drops to be trusted with pricey clothes.”
Self-preservation demanded he say nothing. Kelsey eyed him with curiosity before busting out in laughter. “Wise move. Don’t lie but don’t agree. Just keep mu—oh! Wow.”
They’d reached a gift shop with a display of delicate music boxes in the window. “Oh, one of these—if I could give my mom a gift, it would be…” Her finger swung back and forth between boxes he couldn’t be sure of until it landed on a ballet dancer that appeared to move across a floor, if the track in the box meant what he thought it did. “That one. Mom loved music boxes. I have five of hers.”
He’d never wanted to ask, but the time seemed perfect for it. “What happened to her—and your dad.”
They passed two more stores before she answered. “We were missionaries in North Thailand. Uncle Mel came to visit, so when news came of missionaries needing medical help in the northeastern corner, Mom and Dad left us with him and drove over to bring more supplies.” A catch in her throat showed the pain it still caused. “They never made it. Tire blew out, Dad lost control of the van they were driving, and no one found them for days. So, we came back to America with Uncle Mel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. You know, Kenny was only two. He didn’t remember any of it. That always hurt the most. But one of the first things Uncle Mel did when we got back was take me into a room at his house and show me Mom’s music box collection. He said, ‘She has friends who would like one as a keepsake, but you pick out five. Those will be yours.’ Then he pointed to an egg that opens when you wind it. ‘That was her favorite.’ Of course,” Kelsey stopped in her tracks, leaned her head against his arm, and sighed. “I picked that one.”
“Of course. I’m still sorry.” Reid might have said more, but a specialty sporting goods store display showed a selection of fishing rods. “Oh, that. Right there in the middle with the red striping. I’d get that for my mom, but I bet it’s three hundred bucks. Wow, that’s a beauty.”
“You fish?” Kelsey gave him the oddest expression. “I’d never have guessed that. Ever.”
“That’s because I don’t. But Mom does. Loves it.”
And without him even having to try to create a reason to do it himself, she slipped her hand into his and sighed. “We’d better introduce her to Uncle Mel. Maybe then we’ll get a break from hours of explanations about why this fly is better, and that tie is best.”
“Wait. Your uncle does that, too?”
Kelsey laughed and dragged him across the street. “He’s part of a fishing club. It’s all they talk about. But meetings are only once a month. He doesn’t enjoy a lot of them one-on-one because they get kind of crass.” She eyed him with a suspicious look. “Your mom isn’t crass, is she?”
“Not usually, no.”
With an exaggerated sweep of her hand over her forehead, she whistled. “Whew! That’s it. We’re introducing them. And that…” She pointed to a lacy scarf. “I wish for Michelle. She collects scarves. And I’ve never seen a more beautiful one.”
“I’ve never seen you in a scarf.” The moment he spoke the words, Reid wished them back again. In an effort to deflect from his obvious notice of her wardrobe
, he remarked on the color. “That gold is really nice. It would look great on you.”
As she tried to find a price tag on the thing, Kelsey didn’t attempt to hide her snort. “Yeah. Not hardly. All yellows make me look sickly. Most greens, too. And I don’t have the neck for a scarf.”
“I like your neck.” Reid cringed as he heard the words spoken. “Well, that didn’t come out well. I now sound like a vampire.” Desperate to redeem himself, he pointed at it again. “When you come back for that ornament, get the scarf. I’ll pay you back. Michelle took a chance on me.”
Though she nodded, Kelsey didn’t speak until her next stop before a tea room. “I should take Aunt Grace out for tea soon. It’s been a long time.”
“Who’s Aunt Grace? You’ve never mentioned an aunt.”
But Kelsey didn’t answer. She stood there, typing note after note into her phone. Only when she pocketed it and took his hand again did she try to explain. “That’s because she’s not really my aunt. I just always called her that because she did stuff with me even though I was just a kid, you know?” She paused under a streetlight and peered up at him. “Reid?”
“My dad?”
“Yeah.”
He led her across a side street to the next block as he prayed for a lack of judgment on his mother. “Never had one. I used to ask Mom all the time, and at first, she’d just say, ‘Sometimes guys don’t stick around to raise the babies they make,’ but one day I must have pushed too hard, or it was a bad day or something.” He swallowed hard. “She got all upset and screamed at me. Mom never was much of a yeller, but that day…” Again, the same lump formed and he forced it down again.
“You don’t have to talk about it. I was curious, but it’s none—”
“No… really.” They stood there on a street corner decorated with Christmas lights, giant ornaments, and every bit of Midwestern winter festivity surrounding them. It almost felt wrong to desecrate the moment with the only time his mother had ever been ugly to him. “She screamed that day, though. She told me every fault I had and which guy I could have gotten it from.” His voice dropped to a whisper that even he could hear the pain in. “There were several. It had been a bad time in her life, but getting pregnant with me kind of snapped her out of it.”
