by Amanda Tru
Brooke handed him a stack of colored coffee filters. “We will both need to help the kids with the tracing, cutting, and writing. We have a large range of ages, and some are not yet very skilled with scissors. After the leaves are finished, I will put them all together in an arrangement that we can hang at the window in the church entryway. The colors should look really pretty with the light shining through.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Dylan said.
With the arrival of the children, they quickly got to work. Soon, happy conversation mingled with the sounds of scissors and the scratch of markers. Brooke looked up from helping a little boy with his scissors and just about fell over with laughter. Dylan was seated at a table with a bevy of little girls around him. They all smiled up at him, vying for which one would get his help next.
Taking pity on the outnumbered man, Brooke went over to the table. “Ok, ladies, I think several of you are old enough to manage scissors without Mr. Masters’ help. How about you cut your own leaf out and then show him what a good job you did?”
Finding this acceptable, several girls began cutting out their leaves with the utmost care. Brooke helped out at the table for a few minutes longer, discreetly watching as Dylan’s big hands used a pair of child-sized pink scissors to carefully cut a leaf out of a coffee filter. Then he handed it to the blonde named Stella beside him.
“Can you write ‘pig’ on it?” Stella asked sweetly.
“Pig?” Dylan asked. “You’re thankful for pig? I could write bacon if you’d rather. I’m pretty thankful for bacon myself.”
All of the girls at the table laughed.
“You’re silly!” Stella grinned. “‘Pig’ is the name of my cat!
Dylan laughed and picked up a marker. “‘Pig’ is pretty easy to spell. Don’t you want to write it yourself?”
“You write so much prettier than I do,” she said with a sweet look sent his direction. “Just write P-I-G right in the center. Oh, and can you make a heart for the dot on the ‘I’? I like those.”
Dylan obediently did what he was told, even carefully drawing a miniature heart above the ‘i’ in pig.
The little girl grinned up at him when he handed the leaf back, and Brooke’s heart melted.
She cleared her throat and busied herself collecting completed leaves. “Remember, write only one thing on each leaf,” she instructed. “We have plenty of leaves, so if you want to write more than one thing, then you can make as many leaves as you need.”
Turning back to the other tables, she heard one of the little girls ask in a loud whisper, “Are you Miss Hutchins’ boyfriend?”
Brooke just about dropped the scissors she was holding.
Pretending she couldn’t hear a thing, she continued cleaning up scraps and distributing scissors and markers where needed.
“No, I’m not,” Dylan said simply.
“But do you want to be?” the little girl persisted.
Brooke coughed on her sudden gasp.
“She’s really nice,” the girl continued. “And pretty.”
“Yes, she is,” Dylan answered. “And, yes—”
“Alright, children!” Brooke called, not wanting to hear Dylan finish that answer. “It’s time to get ready for your other activities. I think you have some songs and a Bible story lesson still to do. Let’s pray together and then line up.”
Pausing to check to make sure everyone had their heads properly bowed, Brooke prayed, “Dear, Lord, thank you for letting us have this time together and for all the blessings you give us. Help us to be thankful and to know that all good things come from You. In Jesus name, Amen.”
“Will you be here next week?” a small voice asked.
Brooke looked over to see a little brunette, about 6 years old, talking to Dylan.
Dylan bent down to talk to her. “I don’t know, but probably not. I just came to help Miss Hutchins today because she wasn’t feeling well. I sure had fun helping you make leaves, though. Thanks for letting me have the pretty red one you made.”
The girl looked troubled. “But if you ask Miss Hutchins to be her boyfriend, and she says ‘yes,’ then you’ll have to come help her again next week, right?”
“Jaycee, I’m not scheduled to be your teacher for next week,” Brooke spoke up gently. She couldn’t stand it if the little girl was disappointed. It was better to let her know now that there was no possibility of Dylan or her being at her class next week. “You’ll have a different teacher for a while. I think I’ll be back with you after Christmas.”
The little girl’s bottom lip puffed out in a pout. Then, suddenly, she brightened. “Oh, good! That should be lots of time for you to become Miss Hutchins’ boyfriend. Then you’ll have to come with her!”
Before Brooke could close her mouth and come up with a coherent response, Jaycee skipped off with a wave to join her line that was leaving the room.
“You can charm girls at any age, Dylan Masters,” Brooke said, shaking her head in amusement.
“Not true,” Dylan disagreed. “I can’t charm every woman. How old are you, by the way? I’d just like to know, for future reference, what the magical age is at which my powers have no effect on a woman.”
Brooke laughed, but quickly set to work straightening the classroom before she left. She assigned Dylan the task of putting supplies away while she quickly put together a wreath of the leaves the children had made. She didn’t have time to finish the whole thing now, but she did want to make sure it would look right. She smiled as she spread the leaves into a circle, reading what each of them had written. She carefully taped them together, hoping that tape would hold but not damage like glue might. Most of the leaves were labeled with family members, pets, or favorite toys. And of course, there was the one Dylan had clearly labeled “Pig.”
Her hand paused as she found a red one that read, “Miss Hutchins.” Brooke’s heart warmed at the thought that one of the little ones was thankful for her. Unable to control the curiosity, Brooke flipped it over to where the child’s name was supposed to be written in pencil on the back by the stem.
Just where it was supposed to be, the owner’s name was clearly visible—Dylan.
It was just a leaf. A cute gesture that Dylan probably hadn’t intended any other eyes to see. But it flustered her greatly. He hadn’t done it to tease or show off. He couldn’t have known that she would even see it.
She remembered him thanking someone for giving him a leaf. She just hadn’t realized that her name would hold center stage of what he was thankful for.
Glancing at the time, she realized she would need to finish the wreath later if they wanted to make it in time for the sermon.
“What do you think?” she asked Dylan as he approached, his tasks complete.
“I think you’re amazingly creative to make something that beautiful out of coffee filters,” he said readily. “And I think it will look even more gorgeous with the light coming through it on the window.”
Brooke carefully moved the wreath to where it would be safe on a counter in a corner. “Doing any kind of art project with coffee filters is an improvement over their intended purpose.”
“Good to know you aren’t on friendly terms with coffee,” Dylan said, following Brooke out of the classroom. “Wasn’t it coffee that spilled all over your original orders? It sounds like the animosity is mutual.”
Brooke led the way down the hall and into the sanctuary. It wasn’t a large church, but it wasn’t especially small either. With most of the chairs already occupied, Brooke gladly found them seats in the back corner. She sincerely hoped they wouldn’t attract too much attention. She didn’t need the curious glances and speculation about the man Brooke Hutchins brought to church.
As soon as they were seated, the pastor finished his announcements and began the sermon. Brooke listened carefully, trying to tune everything else out. It was a relief to focus on something other than her own problems. However, she couldn’t quite abandon an occasional nervous glance Dylan’s
direction. While she was concerned that he would be uncomfortable, he seemed very interested in the message. He didn’t even glance her way as he leaned forward slightly in his chair and kept his eyes fixed on the pastor.
The sermon used the story of the woman at the well as a text and focused specifically on John 4:13-14. Brooke listened carefully to the words:
Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
It was a good reminder to Brooke that she should not be getting her main satisfaction in life from her job. That kind of satisfaction was too fleeting. A few mistakes and one bad day and suddenly you’re out of a job and your satisfaction level drops to nonexistent. Instead, she should be focusing on God and finding satisfaction in Him and in the work He would have her do, which would be a satisfaction that wasn’t fleeting but eternal.
Thirty minutes later, the sermon was over, the last prayer had been given, and Brooke and Dylan were walking back to his car with Brooke feeling very successful that they had managed a quick exit without being waylaid by curious fellow parishioners.
“I’m hungry,” Dylan said. “Why don’t we go get some dinner.”
Brooke shot him a wary look. “It won’t be a date, right?”
“Of course not!” Dylan said. “I’ll even let you pay for your own food if you want, though anyone who had a day as bad as you deserves to have her dinner paid for.”
“Okay,” Brooke said. “But let’s go somewhere where we can get food fast. And thank you, but I’ll pay for my own.” She really didn’t want this to in any way resemble a date, even though it wasn’t easy to combat the anxiety that popped up at the thought of spending her now-limited supply of money.
As they got in the car and Dylan pulled out of the church parking lot, Brooke couldn’t help but notice the slight smile on his face. And she realized that despite everything that had happened, Dylan was ending the day exactly as he’d wanted.
He was taking her to dinner.
“I enjoyed the sermon,” Dylan said conversationally after their beverages were delivered to their table at the restaurant. They had already placed their orders with the friendly, fortyish waitress named Trish.
Surprised that he was so open to talking about church, Brooke replied simply. “The pastor usually does a good job with his message.”
“It all reminded me very much of my grandma and attending church with her and my grandpa.” A shadow floated across his face.
“Did you go to church often when you were young?” Brooke asked.
Dylan nodded. “I went every Sunday I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa, and that was sometimes up to a year at a time.”
“So it sounds like your grandparents had a large part in raising you,” Brooke surmised.
“Yes, they did,” Dylan replied. Then, with a brief pause, as if collecting himself before diving into deep water, he continued, “My dad left before I was born. I have an older sister, but she has a different dad. My parents were never married, and while Dani’s dad had visitation and saw her frequently, mine wanted nothing to do with me. So when Dani went to see her dad, I went to see Grandma and Grandpa.”
“I’m sorry!” Brooke said, a little caught off guard that Dylan was sharing. It was quite a difference from when he wouldn’t say anything to her just yesterday when they first set out together. “That must have been tough!”
“Not really,” Dylan shrugged. “I actually liked staying with my grandparents more than I liked being home, especially when Mom had a new boyfriend. She married a few other times when I was growing up, and it often just became easier to leave me with Grandma and Grandpa than to make me miserable staying with a new dad who didn’t particularly like me and probably wouldn’t be around long anyway.”
Trish brought their food and laid their plates in front of them. Their choices had been relatively simple. Brooke ordered a club sandwich, and Dylan had a cheeseburger. But they both looked good.
Brooke hadn’t been in this little café in years. She didn’t often treat herself to a meal at a restaurant, and her last experience here hadn’t been enough to even earn a two-star rating. Brooke looked around, thinking of the changes since she’d been here last. She’d heard that the building had been purchased by a new owner and that the café was under new management.
From what Brooke could see, they had made some vast improvements. The yucky gray and orange speckled carpet had been pulled up, and it looked like there had been hardwood underneath. With a new finish, it had a beautiful rustic look to it. The chairs, tables, and booths had all been replaced as well. Even the counter that ran along one wall looked new. With fresh white paint on the walls, blue gingham curtains, and cute, rustic décor, the café had a very country kitchen feel and had gone from scary to charming.
Tasting her sandwich, she was pleased to find a great difference in the food as well. Instead of bland, her sandwich was full of flavor. Even the French fries we good—hot and salty, just the way she liked them.
After a few minutes of eating quietly, Dylan seemed content to let the subject of his personal background drop, but Brooke was afraid that if she let the door close, she’d never be allowed in again.
“I was very close to my grandma too,” Brooke finally offered. Dylan had already shared so much. Maybe it was her turn to offer something personal as well. “It’s still hard for me to think of her being gone.”
Dylan’s face was uncharacteristically drawn and sad. “I miss both my grandma and grandpa. Things haven’t been the same since they’ve been gone. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I date so much—to escape the loneliness of losing them.”
Dylan swirled one of his fries in ketchup but didn’t bring it up to his mouth. Instead, he gazed out the window that lined one side of their booth, his face thoughtful. “The sermon tonight kind of hit home in that respect. It reminded me of Grandma and Grandpa and sitting between them on a church pew every Sunday, but it also made me wonder if I’ve been searching for satisfaction in the wrong way. Like maybe I’m trying to find water in a dry well, or in a place that will always leave me thirsty.”
“I thought of the same thing,” Brooke admitted. “But in my case, I think I’ve been trying to seek satisfaction from my job.”
Dylan let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t think you’re quite in my league, Brooke. If I’m being really honest, I’d admit that for most of my life, I’ve been worried about ending up like my mom, jumping from one relationship to another with no lasting happiness or attachments, just a roller coaster of highs and lows. Looking at my life now, that’s kind of what I do! While I’ve tried so hard to not be serious and hop from one “in love” feeling to the next, I’ve not let anyone get close and actually have the same end result of being alone, dating lots of women, and finding true satisfaction elusive.”
“I think that’s kind of the point of that Bible verse,” Brooke said thoughtfully. “The search for satisfaction and happiness is an issue that everyone struggles with, just maybe not in the same way.”
“And for me, maybe what I’m truly looking for isn’t a woman after all.”
Brooke nodded, though she was lost on what to say. It did funny things to her heart to hear him talk about such deep topics. While she was pleased that he seemed to be coming to terms with some of his issues, hearing him almost swear off women left her very confused.
She supposed that she could launch into presenting the gospel, but if Dylan had been in church like he said he was, then he likely already knew everything she could tell him. And he also seemed to be doing a more than adequate job of self-diagnosing and thinking things through.
“I don’t know you well, and I won’t pretend to know all the answers,” Brooke said slowly. “Honestly, I’m just as messed up as you are, just in different ways. The point of life has to be more than just the pursu
it of things and a happiness that dies when you do. I want the kind of life that prepares me for something even better. I have faith in God and believe that my salvation through Jesus Christ and my relationship with Him are what matters most. Though I’m not always good at it, my greatest happiness comes when I am pursuing God, seeking to please Him, and letting Him work through me in ways that bring Him glory.”
Dylan nodded. “That actually makes a lot of sense. If you don’t mind, I may tag along with you to church a few more times. Do they usually have services at night like this?”
“Yes, they do,” Brooke said. “I can even save you a seat. And I’m sure the pastor can help answer any questions you may have and give better advice than I ever could.”
“I don’t know about the advice part, but I may decide to drop in on him sometime.” He folded up his napkin and looked at his watch. “Are you ready to go?”
Brooke nodded and scooted to the edge of the booth. Seeing their waitress, she lifted her hand to hail her. “Can I please have my check?”
“Oh, it’s all been taken care of, honey. Both you and Mr. Masters are good to go.”
“Dylan!” Brooke protested. “I told you not to pay for my food!”
“Oh, he didn’t, honey,” the waitress assured. “This one is on the house. The restaurant owner owes Mr. Masters a few big favors, so he likes to treat him to dinner on the house every once in a while.”
Brooke’s gaze went from the waitress to Dylan and then back again. She didn’t want to appear rude, but she really believed that the man across from her had just played her! “Well, can you please tell the owner thank you?” Brooke said, knowing she needed to gracefully accept the generosity. “The food was delicious.”
“I sure will!” Trish beamed proudly.
While heading for the door, Brooke whispered to Dylan, “Why do I get the feeling that you knew I wouldn’t have to pay for my meal when you chose this place?”
Dylan shrugged, an overly innocent expression on his face. “It’s not a date, remember? You can’t blame someone for using a little creativity, taking advantage of a little good luck, or a combination of the two!”
