Steven sat back and soaked in her words with a contented expression on his face. “I know you love me. I didn’t always know it, but I know it now. I think you know that I love you. I always have. I always will.”
After a quiet twenty minutes of talking softly and expressing their hearts to each other, Steven and Genevieve went upstairs to their bedroom holding hands. Genevieve thought about the pretty new underwear she was wearing. She wondered if Steven would notice.
He did. Oh yes, without a doubt, he noticed.
Over the next few days, Steven noticed a lot of things. He commented on the way Genevieve was humming after she came home from her Wednesday afternoon Bible study at Jessica’s. He noticed that she had planted some pansies in the neglected flowerbeds in the backyard. He also noticed that she had lost a few pounds.
“It must be all the exercise I’m getting while we’re working on the café,” Genevieve surmised when she stepped on the scale Thursday morning. “I haven’t had time to eat much.”
“You look great,” he told her. “You’ve always looked great to me. Ever since you had your spiritual awakening or whatever you call it, you’ve gotten softer. You look lighter.”
Genevieve thought his observation was amazing. She had thought that the night cream she had been using faithfully for the past five years had finally begun to live up to its advertising promises and was making some of her wrinkles disappear.
Steven’s evaluation seemed more accurate. The wrinkles in her spirit had disappeared, and the results could be seen on the outside. Genevieve wondered why no one had ever advertised forgiveness as the best beauty aid around.
If Genevieve had thought any of these insights would make sense to Steven, she would have shared them. But she didn’t know what he was taking in lately and what he was brushing off as he had for years.
Steven went golfing again with Pastor Allistar on Thursday and came home saying that he “admired” Gordon Allistar. That didn’t seem to indicate any spiritual revelations had occurred on the greens.
On Friday morning, Genevieve got up at seven-thirty and found Steven was up already, mowing the backyard. She guessed he was tackling the chore while the day was still cool since the prediction for this first week of August was for a string of scorchers. His dislike for yard work made the lawn mowing a labor of love, which Genevieve reminded herself to comment on. She wasn’t in the habit of telling Steven how much she appreciated everything he did when he was home.
By the time she had showered, slipped into her coolest cotton dress, and tucked her hair up in a clip, Genevieve was aware of the morning’s warmth. She opened all the upstairs windows and woke up Mallory in the process.
“Do we have to get up now?” Mallory asked.
“No, you can sleep in if you want to, honey.”
“You smell good, Mom.”
Genevieve kissed her freckle-faced angel and caught a whiff of pool chlorine in Mallory’s hair.
Genevieve went downstairs and grabbed her sandals, which she had left by the front door. After Steven’s comment about her being “softer,” she had tried an old beauty trick of slathering her feet with thick cream last night. Then, pulling on socks over her creamed feet, Genevieve padded around the house in her moccasins, feeling the cream squish between her toes.
The results were wonderful. This morning the feet she slid into her summer sandals were smooth and happy feet.
“Good morning!” she called to Steven from the door that opened to the backyard.
He cut the motor on the lawn mower and came over to where she stood in the morning sunlight, looking and smelling as fresh as a daisy. Steven hadn’t shaved. His T-shirt was darkened by perspiration. His shorts and hairy legs were dotted with clippings, which had been cut off from their patch of green earth.
“I’d kiss you,” Steven said, “but I’m a slob at the moment.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.” Genevieve opened her arms, offering her affection.
“No,” Steven said. “I’ll save up a good one for you after I get cleaned up.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Genevieve said.
A peculiar look came over Steven’s face. Genevieve couldn’t make it out because she faced the brilliant morning sun and Steven was in the shadows.
“Are you okay?” Genevieve asked.
Steven ran his hand over the top of his head. “You … I …”
Genevieve thought he looked upset. She couldn’t imagine how anything she said could have sounded negative to him.
“Have you ever heard Gordon tell how he met his wife?” Steven asked.
“No.” Genevieve had no idea what that had to do with Steven’s getting rattled. Why would her comment on how she would be waiting for him to kiss her after he got cleaned up be disturbing? It wasn’t like her husband to lose his cool the way he seemed to have.
“You’ll have to ask them about the airplane incident sometime,” Steven said. “I’m, ah … I’m going to get back to the yard.”
Genevieve made a ham and cheese quiche for breakfast and watched Steven finish up the yard work. He appeared to be deep in thought.
The phone rang. The builder was calling to say that a delivery truck was at the café and that Genevieve was to go over and sign for the shipment.
“I have to go to the café.” Genevieve called to Steven out the window.
He cut the motor again and looked up. “When will you be back?”
She thought for a fraction of a second how that had been her line for the first twenty years of their marriage. “I’m not sure. Call me or come by later. A delivery truck is there now, and the driver is waiting for my signature. I left a quiche warming in the oven.”
“Okay,” Steven said. “Why don’t you take the Triumph in case I need to drive the girls some place in the van?” He waved, and she scooted out the door.
The PDS truck driver was unloading the last of a twenty-box shipment of new dishes. Genevieve signed the form and cut open the first box.
“What did you get?” one of the construction workers asked.
“Really adorable dishes.” Genevieve grinned broadly. “They are exactly what I wanted. Look at them! The colors are perfect! Don’t you love the wildflowers around the edges?”
The toughened construction worker adjusted his tool belt. “I guess. Oh, wait. I get it. Wildflowers. That’s the name of your place, right?”
“Right.” Genevieve chuckled. “The Wildflower Café.” It seemed to her at that moment that the previous Wildflower Café had never existed. It was a shadow of what this new, vastly improved café was going to be. In some ways, she saw the same thing happening with her marriage. Everything was new and fresh.
The cupboards in the kitchen had been finished for almost a week. Genevieve had coaxed Anna to wipe out all the construction dust a few days ago. Now, with glee, Genevieve unpacked her new dishes, washed each one by hand and lovingly stacked them in her new cupboards. Everything fit exactly the way she had planned.
That night, when the group gathered for the blessing party, Genevieve pulled Alissa aside and took her into the kitchen. “I know I’m going to sound like a little girl playing house, but I had to show someone my new dishes. Look at these.” She pulled out a plate and handed it to Alissa.
“Oh, I love it! What do the bowls look like?”
Genevieve opened the adjoining cupboard and lifted out a bowl. “Aren’t they adorable? I’ve never been silly about plates or silverware or any of that. I get more excited about a really nice frying pan. But these are such an improvement over the generic white ones I inherited from the Wallflower Café.”
“I don’t even remember what those looked like,” Alissa said. “Except that every bowl I ever had soup from was chipped. I used to think they gave me the same bowl every time, but then Brad ordered soup, too, and we both ate out of chipped bowls.”
They admired the matching salad plates, and Alissa said, “You should use a set of these plates somehow in decorating. You could ha
ng a plate on the wall or put one on a stand inside the bookcase that you’re going to put by the fireplace.”
“Great idea,” Genevieve said. “When I get to that stage in a week or two, would you come over and give me some ideas?”
“Sure. I’m not especially creative in that area, though. Jessica is the one who has an eye for taking classical looks and making them fresh. Or you could ask Lauren. She’s the pro when it comes to fixing up old furniture, you know.”
“Maybe all the women from our Wednesday group could come for the day and help me bring this place alive.”
“Yes! You know all of us would love it.”
Three-year-old Beth trotted over to where Alissa stood beside the sink and tugged on her mom’s shorts. “Mama, pizza! Come eat.”
“Well!” Genevieve said. “That sounded like a couple of complete sentences to me.”
“Yes, both girls have learned to say ‘pizza’ and ‘come eat.’ They pick up new words every day. It’s amazing to watch. Once they understood that this was their new life, they started to blossom.”
“Here.” Genevieve handed Alissa a stack of wildflower plates. “Let’s eat our pizza on these. I couldn’t bear to serve any of my guests off paper plates when I have these honeys stacked up and waiting in the cupboard.”
Alissa laughed, and the two of them carried the plates in to the group gathered in the hollowed-out cavern of the dining room. The lights had been installed that day. They were energy efficient bulbs covered with shades that were of a creamy, golden hue. They hung from the ceiling at what appeared to be random points, but were actually carefully planned so that each light would hang over a separate table.
Three of the booths were installed next to the window. The back of each booth seat was a tall divider made of wood and filled in with stained glass at head level. The fourth booth wasn’t finished yet. It was the largest booth. The shape was rounded, and it was tucked in the far right corner. The wooden bench seats for the larger booth had been completed that afternoon but no comfortable cushion softened the seating yet. The table hadn’t been installed either.
A single, shaded light hung from the ceiling above the corner booth, casting a golden glow on Steven, who sat beneath it with his head down. All the other guests were collected at the table in the booth next to the door.
Genevieve set down the plates and went over to her husband who sat alone, reading in the unfinished corner booth.
“Are you ready for some pizza?” she asked.
Steven looked up with an expression of wonder on his clean-shaven face. In his hands, he held the Bible he had bought for himself.
Chapter Seventeen
What did you ask me?” Steven looked up from the corner booth.
“Are you hungry? The pizza is ready.” Genevieve noticed that the others had linked hands in a circle and were praying.
“You go ahead and join the others. I’m trying to find my verse to write on your floor.”
Genevieve’s heart warmed. “Have you found one?”
“Not yet. I only made it halfway through.” Steven held up the Bible and showed where he had stuck a broken rubber band as a bookmarker in the third chapter of Zechariah.
“Why are you reading Zechariah?” If Genevieve had known Steven was reading his Bible, she would have directed him to the New Testament. He could have been reading John along with her. That would have prompted some interesting discussions.
“I’m reading Zechariah because that’s as far as I got,” Steven said. “I started reading on Wednesday, but I’m only halfway through.”
“You’re reading the whole thing?” Genevieve was stunned. She knew her husband was a fast reader, but she didn’t know anyone who had sat down and read the entire Bible.
“Of course. Haven’t you read the whole Bible?”
“No.” In all the years Genevieve had been a Christian, she had read little of the Bible. The only parts she took the time to read were the sections being discussed in Bible study groups. At this moment she wished she had read the whole Bible. She wished she had put aside other things that had snatched away her time over the years. She had no good reason for having failed to read through the Bible at least once.
“It’s a pretty amazing book,” Steven said. “I’m not saying I understand all of it, but I definitely see a reoccurring theme.”
Genevieve nodded, waiting for Steven to tell her the insight he had discovered. Before Steven could, Gordon stepped over next to Genevieve. “Here ya’ go, Gena. The hostess should have the first slice, I always say.”
“Thanks.” She took the plate he held out to her and showed Steven. “How do you like my new wildflower plates?”
“Nice. And that’s a good looking pizza, too.”
“We just happen to have a slice with your name on it,” Gordon said. “You wait right here, and I’ll bring it to ya’.”
“You better not look too experienced at waiting tables,” Steven called out to Gordon. “Gena happens to be looking for someone to replace Leah. She might hire you, if the preaching thing doesn’t work out.”
Genevieve wasn’t sure how to take her husband’s jesting. She quickly looked to Leah, who stood a few feet away, and then at Gordon, who was in the middle of the rest of the group.
“Now you’ve got a winner of an idea there,” Gordon said, unruffled by Steven’s comment. “I’ve even got experience as a waiter. Did you know that? I would love to come in here on my day off and wait tables. What do you think, Teri?”
Gordon’s wife, Teri, didn’t get a chance to comment. At that moment, Gordon turned with a plate of pizza and bumped into the edge of the booth. He lost his balance and appeared to be trying not to collide with Brad and Alissa’s youngest, who had plopped down in the middle of the floor with her plate of pizza in her lap.
With his arms flying into the air, Gordon tilted to the side, caught himself, but lost the plate of pizza. It soared across the room like a Frisbee and landed with a crash on the floor next to where the fireplace was to be installed.
The room went silent. All Genevieve saw were the broken pieces of her beautiful wildflower plate smashed on the bare floor. Ami burst into tears and held up her arms for Alissa to take her. No one spoke.
“It’s okay.” Genevieve drew in a breath of courage. “I’ll clean it up.”
“I take back my suggestion that you start working here, Gordo,” Steven said. “Stick to the preaching.”
Gordon apologized to Genevieve. She swept up the broken pieces and saved them in a small box under the kitchen sink. The plate was in too many pieces to glue back together, but she couldn’t throw it away.
Returning to the party, Genevieve told herself it was a good thing her husband was on such friendly terms with the pastor and that they were ribbing each other like buddies. The others were teasing Gordon as well, saying that everyone was fortunate he had a strong wooden pulpit between him and the congregation when he preached on Sundays. At least the pulpit could break his fall and protect the people in the front row if he had a clumsy spell in the middle of a sermon.
The broken plate was soon forgotten. The pizza was soon devoured. The marking pens were distributed, and the blessing party went into full swing.
Genevieve knew what she wanted to write on the floor. She had found the verse at the end of the book of John during her recent reading. Getting on her knees by the front door, she drew a rectangle like a large welcome mat. Inside the rectangle she wrote,
“Jesus saith unto them, ‘Come and dine.’ John 21:12.”
That small part of the last chapter of John had jumped out at her because she understood more fully than ever what it meant to hear Jesus’ voice and to respond to His kind invitation. She wanted everyone who entered this café to feel invited and to find a deeper level of friendship, as they gathered around a warm fire or with a cold glass of lemonade. Jesus had invited His closest friends to “come and dine” around a small fire on the beach. She wanted her friends to know they were welcome
to “come and dine” at this café.
She finished her welcome mat with a few flowers in the corners and then walked around, eager to see what the others were writing.
Anna had created a darling outline of a house that Mallory was helping her decorate with curls of smoke from the chimney. In the center of the house, Anna wrote:
“This is My commandment, that you love one another. John 15:12.”
Teri and Gordon were kneeling in front of the booths where Teri was writing, “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good.”
Their twin boys were lying flat on their stomachs, coloring a picture of a beach scene complete with palm trees and whales jumping in the curling waves. Little Malia slept in a baby carrier, blissfully unaware of all the activity around her.
Leah leaned against Seth. She had just begun to write on the floor by the opening that separated the Dandelion from the Wildflower.
A Dutch door had been installed so that the two businesses could close off their sections from the other if they wanted. The door could be locked if they needed it to be, or it could have the top closed while the bottom stayed open, inviting short visitors to enter. The other option was for the door’s bottom section to be closed while leaving the top open.
“We already wrote our favorite Zephaniah verse on the floor in there,” Leah said, nodding into her new Dandelion Corner. “Can you guess what verse we’re going to write here?”
Genevieve took a guess. “Is it the verse you told me about the other day? The one that refers to how God knows the plans He has for us?”
“Exactly.” Leah flipped her silky, summer-blond hair behind her ear. “Jeremiah 29:11.”
Shelly and Jonathan couldn’t come because they were swamped with the large group they had at Camp Heather Brook that week. Friday nights were always their biggest night because all the campers gathered in the outdoor amphitheater after the sun went down. They sang under the stars and campers told what God had done in their lives that week. Shelly had said more than once at their Wednesday Bible study that it was her favorite time of the week.
Wildflowers Page 18
