Never the Bride

by Rene Gutteridge

  “Hey, no worries. I’m used to people ignoring Me.”

  I open the menu, and I catch a glimpse of a woman nearby, alone, reading a novel while feasting on an enormous plate of seafood. My eyes sting with tears for her. That’s her date tonight—food and a good book. I’ve been there! I want to shout. But tonight’s going to bring enough unwanted attention as it is.

  I look at God, who is also noticing the woman.

  “Ruby. Never been married. Men don’t treat her well, going all the way back to her father, Richard.”

  “She looks sad.”

  “She is sad.”

  “Maybe we should invite her over to eat with us.”

  He gives me a melancholic smile. “She won’t speak to Me. She hasn’t since her best friend died fourteen years ago.”

  “Wow. People know how to hold a grudge, don’t they?” I lean forward on the table. “Okay, I just have to say…It’s just that…I mean, Your eyes…They’re sort of, well, amazing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Seriously. In the movies You’re always depicted as shriveled and like seventy-two. And sometimes with glasses, which I just think is odd because surely God has twenty-twenty vision, you know?”

  “I’ve been depicted all sorts of ways. Most people don’t ever take the time to get to know Me.”

  “If they only knew,” I say softly. The eyes are hard to describe. The color is dynamic, brilliant, like all colors mixed together. They shine with light but are deep with feeling. “How am I supposed to…?”

  “What?”

  “Notice anyone with You and all Your glory, right in front of me. Who can compete? And that all-knowing thing You’ve got going. Women would kill to find that in a man.”

  “It’s okay that you’re starting to like Me. Even love Me a little.”

  “But I can’t marry You. Don’t You see why that’s hard for me?” I soften a little and give Him a wry smile. “But why am I surprised? It’s the story of my life…wanting what I can’t have.” I glance over and see a nearby couple staring at me. “I’m going to be talking to myself all night,” I say to them, smiling apologetically, “so get used to it.”

  Suddenly I hear a familiar tune coming from the nearly dead pianist in the corner of the room, playing on a shiny baby grand piano.

  “‘I Only Have Eyes For You,’” I whisper, looking at Him. “Was this a special request?”

  “I’ve been known to whisper a few suggestions.” Suddenly He stands, bows slightly, and holds out His hand.

  “What? Here? Now?” A cold sweat puts my deodorant on high alert. I mean, I’m all for shaking inhibitions, but it’s more like trying a new dance move, not trying to move with an invisible man while dancing.

  “I want to dance with you,” God says.

  I eye the old couple watching me. I lean in toward God. “Can’t we do this somewhere else? I hear the North Pole is deserted. You’ve got teleporting powers, don’t You?” The music swells. The old dude on the piano is doing quite a number with the ivories over there.

  And I get caught up in the moment, just like that. I take His hand and He guides me to the dance floor, all Antonio Banderas-like. He’s a good dancer, surprisingly. I don’t know why, but I sort of expected Him to have big clunky feet or something. But our dance is fluid, graceful. I twirl under His guidance, step out and in, as He leads. Wow, wouldn’t we be something spectacular to watch if He wasn’t invisible. I laugh. I bet they’re all wondering how I’m dipping backward like that without falling on my butt.

  I notice the woman who’d been sitting alone. She has put her book down, and she’s watching us. Or, I guess, me.

  I give her a wink and keep dancing. He’s swinging me around like we’re auditioning for Dancing with the Stars or something.

  As I twirl like a kiddie top, and “I Only Have Eyes for You” continues, it seems everyone only has eyes for me. Us. But not for long.

  Soon enough the woman has ditched her novel and she’s on the dance floor, moving like she’s John Travolta. And doggone it if she doesn’t pull off disco moves to “I Only Have Eyes for You.” Maybe the guy at the piano has picked up the pace or something, but there’s electricity on the dance floor.

  I swing around, holding His hands, and lo and behold (I speak like this when I’m with Him; I’m harking like there’s no tomorrow), the hostess with the mostess is right there with us. She’s closing her eyes, dancing round and round like she’s being led by a big heart and lots of hope.

  We pass near each other and she quips, “Who needs a man, right?”

  “Right on, sister.”

  I glance at God, who is beaming. And I don’t mean just happy. He’s actually radiating light. I look at all the couples still seated. They wish they were having this much fun.

  Soon enough, the has-beens and the have-nots are all on the dance floor. Old Dude Piano Man kicks it into high gear, and we’re busting moves that haven’t seen the light of day in years.

  I have to wonder how long it’s been since this waxed-to-the-max dance floor has seen any action. By the surprised and energetic look on the piano man’s face, it’s been awhile.

  God smiles at me. “You really know how to light up a room.”

  “You’re One to talk. You know You’re glowing, don’t You?”

  “I’m feeling the love,” He says, then dips me, twirls me—and for this moment, I feel so completely loved that there is nothing else in the world I want.

  We’re ending the evening on the beach, my favorite place to be. Especially at night, except usually it’s not safe for me to be out here alone. Sometimes Blake comes with me, but tonight the God of the Universe is escorting me. I sit comfortably on the sand and watch Him. He stands, bathed by the moonlight at the edge of the water, with His pants rolled just above the ankle, His hands in His pockets, and His white shirt fluttering behind Him in the breeze.

  I wonder what it’s like to observe all that you’ve made. To know how to command every wave. To have the attention of everything that swims in the sea. For all the time I’ve known Him in the recent weeks, I have not really known Him like this. It’s like the water is singing to Him and the moonlight is dancing for Him.

  He is majestic and I tremble. For the first time since we met, I feel small, insignificant, unworthy. But then He turns, walks toward me, kicking up sand as He approaches.

  Waves crash near where He stood, washing over His footprints. Except when the water recedes, they are still there, untouched. How strange and mysterious and strong He is.

  I start to stand as He nears, but He motions for me to sit down.

  “I want you to do something for me.”

  I sit back down. “Sing? Because You know I have the heart but not the ear for it. But since You created me tone deaf, maybe You should be subjected to the torture of it.”

  He smiles gently, but I can tell something is on His mind. He points to the sand. “Write your initials.”

  “Huh?”

  He tilts His head. “Surely you trust Me by now.”

  “Well, if you trust somebody enough to lead you on the dance floor, surely this isn’t too much to ask, right?” I get on my knees and in large block print I draw J.E.S. I put my fist to my mouth, but shoot, the question pops right out like I have an air gun in my throat. “Why?”

  “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He smiles.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’ll make sense one day.”

  “You are so mysterious.”

  “All part of My charm.” He pushes me and starts running. Oh, how I love a good game of tag!

  I start to run, but then I see something in the distance, under the pier. A shadow of a person, lingering. I stand there for a moment but soon enough feel His arm around me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  We arrive back at my condo. I let Him drive home. And yeah, we got some looks. It was very funny. Not so funny if Officer Garrety would’ve driven by, but what can I say? I’ve become a risk taker of late. />
  I climb the stairs to the condo and turn, but He’s remained at the bottom, the perfect gentleman that He is. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Jessie.”

  “This was a really awesome birthday. Thank You. A dream. Really.”

  “Speaking of dreams,” He says, “I want you to let some of yours go.”

  I stand there. I don’t argue, but I’m having a hard time agreeing. Why can’t I just throw myself into this relationship and not look back?

  “Trust Me with them. I won’t disappoint You.” He steps back and begins to turn. “Thanks for dancing with Me.”

  I watch Him walk away, vanishing into the dark shadows of the trees hanging over the sidewalk. The shadows seem to disappear along with Him.

  twenty-four

  I can still smell the salt water from the night before and hear the sounds of the ocean as I drive up into the hills, to the neighborhood that Blake had shown me before. I’d reflected on this place a lot last night. This symbolized so many of my dreams—to settle down, have a family live in my dream house. So giving this up had some sacrifice attached. It meant no more daydreaming about all that I wanted out of life.

  I park the car and stare at one of Blake’s unfinished houses, the one he let me tour. Then I notice something. A white veranda…and a porch swing!

  I lean against my steering wheel. “God, this is hard. I mean, why does there have to be a porch swing? I know, I know. Because the porch swing means so much to me. And I know that’s stupid, but it’s—” My gaze focuses on something moving in the window.

  It’s Blake. I can see him putting on a door.

  “Wait! What the—” It’s God, right there next to Blake, helping him put the door on! They’re talking to each another.

  I throw myself backward into my seat. “Whoa. Whoa!” Could it be? I mean, I can hardly let myself dream that big, but…“Is this really—Are You giving me what I asked for? Are You telling Blake now?” I laugh. It’s almost a cry. I cover my mouth. “You’re telling him Yourself.”

  I put the car in reverse. “Okay, do Your thing. I won’t interrupt this one.”

  I drive home, slowly, with the windows down. I feel free. I sing to the radio and punch a hand in the air as I hit a hill. So this is what happens when you give God your dreams. Everything works out. It’s just that you have to have the courage to do it.

  Of course, what if Blake says no? I’ve known God long enough to know that He is persistent, but He doesn’t ever force anyone to do anything. So it all sort of hinges on whether or not this is what Blake wants.

  Before fear can clutch me, I remind myself that He is very persuasive. He tends to put things in very convincing terms.

  Trust Him, I tell myself.

  I drive to work and meet with a client for two hours, making sure the man really loves and cares for this woman. I’m fairly convinced they would marry even if I wasn’t providing a dream proposal, so I’m at peace with it.

  Brooklyn doesn’t come in, and Malia tells me she decided to take the day off. I try not to worry too much. She’s been working hard, and if she needs a day off, then she deserves it.

  I finish up with the client and check my voice mail. Blake has left a message!

  I sit down as I hear his voice. “Jess, listen, I know this is last minute and everything, but can you meet me for dinner tonight? I have your birthday gift, and plus, I want to…well, I want to tell you something. Something really cool. Okay. Call me.”

  I quickly text him, and we arrange to meet at our favorite seaside seafood restaurant. I work the rest of the day, humming to the point that I’m certain Malia is annoyed, except she keeps giving me this knowing look. Without saying a word, we seem to be on the same ecstatic page.

  After work I rush home to shower and get ready. I know exactly which shirt to wear—a Chanel lightweight sweater that Blake got me for one of my birthdays. It’s a favorite and easy to accessorize. I decide to borrow a few bangles that Brooklyn has left behind. The woman has more jewelry than the queen of England. I blow-dry my hair straight and take the time to apply my makeup. I step back from the mirror and take me in.

  This is the night that is going to change my life. My dreams are coming true. I swipe my lips with red and then go into my bedroom. It’s not quite time to leave yet. Normally I would be journaling, but what’s strange is that I’m not sure how to journal real life. All I’ve put down in those heaps of paper are dreams and fantasies. Now that it’s all coming true, what am I to write? Besides, I don’t have possession of my purple pen.

  And I’m better for it.

  I decide this would be an appropriate time to pray. On my knees. Haven’t done that since I was a kid. I remember praying like this as a child, with my mom next to me, holding my hand. I remember not always knowing what to say. It seemed greedy to just ask for toys, but that’s all I wanted. Mom would remind me of hurting people in the world, and I would try my best to care about them.

  Now it seems a little hard to pray too. It’s hard to find the right words to the One who has given you your dream. But I bow my head anyway. “God, I want to thank You. You’re amazing, and I’m sorry I’ve doubted Your love for me. You’re kind and You really care about me. I’m so—”

  “Thank God!”

  I jump to my feet, startled. Standing there in my doorway is Brooklyn, holding her suitcases.

  She shakes her head. “At least this time you’re not talking to yourself.” She drops her suitcases. “Guess your prayers have been answered. Here I am.”

  I rush to her. “You’re home?”

  “I’m home.”

  I hug her. She pats me on the back and tries her best to enjoy it. When I release her, she’s staring at my wrist. “Are those my bangles?”

  “Um…yes.”

  She steps back and gives me a once-over. “Wow. You really pulled that outfit together well. The bangles are perfect. And am I seeing things or are you wearing red?”

  I pucker my lips. “Yep.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “I’ll give you details later. You’ll be around? I gotta go.”

  “I’ll be here, eating trans-fat food and watching something with Julia Roberts.”

  I give her one more hug and then rush out of the house and into my car. I check my watch. I do not want to be late!

  I’m flying down the boulevard when I see the flashing lights behind me. “No. Oh man. No! God, help!”

  But He doesn’t appear. I pull to the shoulder and watch in my driver’s side mirror as the officer gets out of his car.

  Garrety. Of course.

  I roll down my window and try to look peaceful and normal. “Hello, Officer.”

  “Well, hello there. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I was speeding, but I—”

  “Were you? Because I pulled you over for failing to yield.”

  “I, uh…”

  “I’m just messing with you. You were speeding.”

  “Oh.” I try a smile and hand over my driver’s license and registration.

  He is checking it over. “So, how is life going, Ms. Stone?”

  “Wonderful. Couldn’t be better.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “I’m at this very moment driving to the destiny that awaits me.”

  “Oh boy. I might’ve let you off the hook if you’d just said you were running late for a meeting.”

  “Officer, you don’t understand. I’ve been through a lot, you know? And finally, tonight, it’s all coming together for me. I’m finding my ‘finally’”

  “You do look much happier. And, um, saner.”

  “Please, can you let me off the hook? Let me go so I’m not late?” I sort of lean out the window and express desperation.

  “How do you know?” he asks.

  “Know what?”

  “That this is the thing that you’ve been waiting for?”

  “All the signs are pointing to it, and I’m learning to read
the signs.”

  “Except speed-limit signs.”

  “Uh, yes. Except those.”

  He hands me back my license and registration. “Well, I don’t know what kind of destiny you’re headed to, but let’s make sure you get there alive, all right? Drive carefully.”

  “Yes sir. I sure will, sir. Thank you.”

  I roll up the window and in my enthusiasm accidentally peel out, but I slow it down and drive the speed limit all the rest of the way there.

  I’m only five minutes late, but I’m trembling all over with anticipation, hoping and praying he is still here.

  I walk in and immediately spot him, already seated at a booth. A cozy booth, actually. The kind that is a little half circle and no matter what, you have to sit next to the person.

  “You’re late.” He smiles.

  I sidle up next to him. “Sorry. Little run-in with the law.”

  “Again?”

  “I don’t know, I seem to attract trouble these days.”

  “Speaking of attract, you look outstanding. Really. I can’t remember ever seeing you this…dressed up.”

  I shrug coyly. “What can I say? I’m excited.”

  “Wait! Did my mother tell you? I told her I wanted to.”

  “I knew she knew! She wouldn’t say anything, but she kept giving me these looks all day.”

  Blake settles comfortably into his seat. “I never thought it would happen, you know?”

  “Believe me, Blake, I do know.”

  He is looking at me as he sips his drink. “I didn’t think you were going to be this excited, to tell you the truth.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting forever.”

  Something strange flickers across his face. I can’t imagine it, but maybe the guy didn’t have a clue all these years that I had the biggest crush on him.

  “Why?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous. It’s just…” He stares into his drink. Poor guy, his nerves are shot. I take his hand.

  “Blake, I didn’t think this would ever happen either. You’re my best friend. And there were times that I questioned whether or not this would be the right thing, but I think we’ve proven to each other how much we care, and we have this amazing foundation to build off, and—”