The Waiting

by Carol James

  “Hey, Sam.” Cassie sat on the curb across the parking lot.

  “Well, hey, Cass. Didn’t see you. What are you still doing here? I thought you were riding home with Sophie.”

  “No, Beth is supposed to pick me up. She’s not here yet.”

  Something was up. Katherine was never late. She was always on time—usually early. “Did you try to call her?”

  “I forgot my phone. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

  Sam grabbed his phone from the side pouch of his soccer bag and dropped down onto the curb beside her. “Here, use mine.”

  She pushed in the numbers, listened, and then handed it back after a few seconds. “No answer.”

  “How about I give you a ride home?” This would be a good excuse to see how Katherine was doing without looking as though he was stalking her. “Give me five seconds to put on a dry shirt.”

  Sam walked to his car, pulled off the sweat-soaked jersey, and threw it in the trunk. Then he rummaged around in the bag for the T-shirt that was in there someplace.

  As Katherine’s car pulled up in front of Cassie, her words tumbled out nonstop through the open windows. “Cassie, I am so, so sorry I’m late. I went to the store to buy a roast for Dad’s dinner tomorrow, and the checkout lines were so long, and then there was a wreck blocking the highway, and my phone died so I couldn’t even call you and let you know. I’m really sorry. I hope you’re not upset.”

  “No worries.” Cassie stood and walked toward Katherine and then gestured Sam’s direction as she climbed into the car. “Sam would have given me a ride.”

  Katherine jerked around to face him, her mouth gaping open. She’d apparently been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed him there.

  “Hey, there. You OK?”

  Her face flushed. “Sam, I, uh...I mean, thanks...um...I…”

  With each syllable her face grew deeper crimson. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. She just kept staring at his chest.

  Oh...he recognized that look. He’d just never seen it from Katherine. All that upper body work at the gym had paid off. “Just a second.” He grabbed the dry shirt from his bag, pulled it over his head, and then turned back to the car. “Sorry, you caught me in the middle of changing.”

  She giggled.

  “So, is everything OK?” Sam placed his forearms on the window ledge and leaned on the car.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed. “Yes, it is now. I was just concerned about Cassie.”

  “Hey, it’s OK. Cassie’s a big girl. It didn’t hurt her to wait a few minutes. Isn’t that right, Cassie?”

  Cassie nodded.

  “Plus,” he continued, “I’d never let anything happen to her. You should know that.”

  “I know. I just didn’t want her to be upset.” She turned her head toward him and smiled her relief. “Hey, thanks for all your help this morning. I can’t wait for my dad to see the garden.”

  “So, my penance is paid?”

  “Yes, and then some. I’ve never had more fun weeding a garden.”

  “Me, neither. Sorry I left so quickly when that guy showed up. Did everything turn out OK?”

  For the first time since she’d gotten seated in the car, Cassie spoke. “What guy?”

  “Clark,” Katherine replied.

  “Clark? What was Mr. Plastic doing here?” Cassie asked.

  “Cassie, that’s not very nice.” Katherine’s response was soft.

  “Well, neither is he.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Sam had listened enough. “Who’s Clark?”

  “My boss.” Katherine kept her gaze on Cassie.

  “Ex-boss. He fired her after she refused to marry him.”

  ~*~

  Katherine placed a checkmark by the last entry on today’s list and turned the page in her notebook to review tomorrow’s plan. Everything was pretty much ready for Dad’s homecoming. She would spend most of tomorrow straightening the house, putting fresh linens on his bed, hanging clean towels in his bathroom, and cooking. Her goal was to have everything done by the time Cassie got home from school so Dad would come home to a calm house.

  Katherine had managed everything quite well in his absence these last few weeks, and she wanted him to be proud of her.

  She placed the notebook on her nightstand and turned off the lamp. The room was silent except for the metronome ticking of the antique wall clock above the chest of drawers—every regular “tick-tock” a thief stealing moments of her life. Seconds, minutes, hours that could never be regained.

  She’d always been taught that God had a perfect plan for her life, and she had done her best to figure out what it was. When she’d graduated from college, she’d had so many dreams and aspirations, but more than anything she’d wanted what her parents had—a loving marriage and a family.

  And so, she’d waited. She’d pursued her career goals, and prayed, and waited. She’d been so sure that God would bring her the man who was right for her, so certain “he” would come, the one who matched the numbered attributes on her list. And then Clark had, but when he’d proposed, she’d frozen. Everything she’d prayed for in a husband had been kneeling right in front of her, offering himself, and she couldn’t reach out and take it.

  She should have been happy—no, elated—to see Clark today after all these weeks. But she hadn’t been. She and Sam had been having so much fun, and then Clark showed up and ruined it all. His presence had been an interruption.

  Why couldn’t she find a man with Clark’s faith and Sam’s passion? Heat prickled her entire body. When she’d seen Sam shirtless at the soccer field today, she’d been filled with a longing she’d never before experienced. She’d wanted nothing more than to throw open the car door and grab him—sweaty or not—into her arms. But, thankfully, her seatbelt had saved her from that embarrassment.

  So, if Clark was supposedly everything she’d ever dreamed of, everything she’d ever desired—why had she never felt that same attraction toward him?

  12

  She’d made her father cry. Unintentionally, certainly, but she’d still done it.

  As he’d opened the door of what was now the spice cabinet to get a water glass, she’d stood quietly leaning against the opposite cabinet, smiling, anticipating his words of praise as he realized that—thanks to her hard work—the kitchen was now properly organized. But the words had never come—only a leaden moan as he’d burst red-faced from the kitchen and escaped through the back door into the privacy of Mom’s garden.

  The only other time Katherine had seen him cry was at the funeral. All her life this man had been her comfort—his shoulder her solace, his arms her fortress. And now her childhood superhero sat alone, a heartbroken mortal. And it was all her fault.

  If only she had never reorganized the cabinets. She’d managed to convince herself that her motivation was to make life better for Dad and Cassie, but that was only an excuse. Deep in the corners of her heart lurked the truth. She’d really wanted to prove her way was the best.

  Now she would have done anything to be able to take back her self-centered actions, but she couldn’t. She could only apologize and then put the kitchen back as it had been.

  He needed some time alone to compose himself, but she couldn’t stay inside any longer and do nothing. She had to set everything right—to heal the anguish she’d caused. Quietly she opened the patio door and tiptoed across the deck to the steps. His back was to her as he sat alone on the bench where he and Mom had snuggled so many evenings, facing the western horizon, waiting for the sun to dip low and cover the evening sky with fire.

  She inched across the yard until she stood behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. She could only whisper. “Daddy, I...” But no more words would come as hot tears stole her voice.

  The hand she’d held so many times reached up and covered hers, and she heard the nickname she’d had all her life. “Hey, Baby Girl, it’s OK
. Come sit with me.”

  Slowly she walked around the bench and eased down into her mother’s seat. This time her words mingled with tears and gushed forth like a rain-swollen waterfall. “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I’ll put it back tomorrow.”

  Her father’s arm encircled her and pulled her close until her head rested upon his shoulder. “No, leave it as it is. You did a fine job.”

  “But Daddy...”

  “It’s OK, Katherine.” He kissed the top of her head. “Life’s marching on, and I can’t continue to live in the past. That’s not what your mother would have wanted, and it’s sure not being a good steward of the years I have left. However many they are, I need to make the best of them. Thanks for helping me take the first step.” As he rested his cheek on her head, his voice was soft, warm. “Besides, we both know organization was never one of your mother’s strengths. In fact, her disorganization and spontaneity were two of her most charming qualities.”

  With her head still on her father’s shoulder, she closed her eyes as the warmth of the sinking sun blanketed her heart with peace.

  “Baby Girl, open your eyes, or you’ll miss it.”

  The western sky was ablaze with color. A celestial paint canister had spilled a puddle of bright gold on the horizon, it’s spreading fingers gradually darkening to orange and then crimson as they reached upward into the royal blue sky overhead. Her breathing caught, and she could only whisper at the magnificence before her. “Oh, Daddy, it’s beautiful.”

  They sat in comfortable silence as the yellows and oranges turned to deep burgundy and then on to dark gray blending into the now navy sky above. The evening breeze brushed the wind chimes hanging above the deck, and they tinkled a sweet accompaniment to the rhythmic percussion of the cicadas. She could have stayed here where peace reigned forever.

  “I hear Clark stopped by yesterday. How’s he doing?”

  Cassie was at it again. “Good, I guess.” Better than she was anyway. He still had a job and a paycheck. “Looks like business has picked up, and I’ll be able to have my job back in a few weeks—if I want it, that is.”

  “If you want it? I thought this was your dream job.”

  She’d been sure of that, too. “I love the work. It’s not that. But the idea of having Clark as my boss again is uncomfortable, to say the least. He’s different. Everything changed after his proposal.”

  As she sat up and faced him, Dad drew away and turned toward her. “Of course it did, sweetie. You can’t expect it not to. It’s hard for a man to be rejected by a woman he loves. Clark’s hurt, but he’ll come around in time. I’m sure he loves you as much as ever.”

  “That’s one of the problems, Daddy. Sometimes I wonder if Clark really does loves me. Maybe he never did. If he does, would he have let these weeks go by without calling me? It’s more as if I’m the next step in one of his action plans. College, career, marriage, family.”

  “Maybe he just needed some time to sort things out. He knows your hopes, and I’m sure he was hurt and surprised when you turned him down. I think the fact that he showed up here is a sign he’s working through everything and still cares for you. So, maybe the real question is not about his love for you.”

  They’d never dated for fun. From the very beginning, Clark had let her know he was dating her with the intention of marriage at some point in the future. And now that the time had come, she was afraid. Engagement was the next logical step in their relationship, but the thought of marrying him smothered her, just as his embrace had yesterday.

  So maybe Dad was right. Maybe the true problem had nothing to do with Clark but with her. An idea that had been slowly germinating in her heart over the past few weeks suddenly mushroomed. Clark was a wonderful man, perhaps she couldn’t marry him because she’d been wrong all along, and she wasn’t designed to get married—to anyone. Perhaps she simply needed to surrender and accept that her Father’s answer might possibly be “No.”

  Yet she couldn’t erase years of her life as if they’d never happened. Not continuing to hope after she’d invested all these years waiting seemed wrong. Her heart’s desire was still to be married, and she wasn’t ready to ask God to remove that longing from her spirit. More than anything, she wanted to be a wife...just not Clark’s. “When did you know Mom was The One?”

  “Oh, you mean she was The One for me, and I was The One for her?” He smiled.

  She nodded. “Yes. Could you imagine your life with anyone else?” The idea of the two of them not being married was inconceivable.

  “Not now. I loved her more than I ever thought possible.” His smile warmed as he slowly shook his head. “I proposed to your mother three times. She turned me down twice because she thought we were too different and it would never work. And turns out she was right. The first couple of years were rocky. She even went home to Grandma one time.”

  Shock gripped her stomach like a vise. Neither of her parents had ever shared this with her. Their relationship had always seemed ideal, as if they’d never doubted they were anything but the perfect match. Their warm smiles, their tender glances, a gentle hug or squeeze of the hands when they passed one another. She’d grown up in a home where the love between a father and a mother was never a question, and that’s exactly what she wanted. “I...I had no idea, Daddy. You two always seemed like soulmates.”

  “We learned to be because we loved each other.” As he looked toward the ground, his smile disappeared. When he turned back toward her, he rested his hand on hers. “Sweetie, I’ve never really bought into the idea that God has one perfect person picked out for each of us. Maybe He does. Maybe He doesn’t. I don’t know. But the world is a mighty big place, full of billions of people. And thinking, that in all that mass of humanity, God has chosen only one person for each of us has always seemed to me as if we’re trying to place limits on a limitless God. But I do know this. When you find the person you want to promise your love and faithfulness to in marriage, then he or she becomes The One. Your One and Your Only.”

  This idea was contrary to anything she’d ever been taught in youth group growing up or in all the women’s Bible studies in college. There had always been this belief that if she prayed hard enough and looked thoroughly enough, God would reveal The One, His One, for her. But what happened if she missed him? “Daddy, you remember that notebook from that Passion and Purity Conference in middle school?”

  “You don’t still have that thing, do you?”

  She nodded. “Clark has every quality on that list—everything I’ve looked for in a husband all these years. But what if I make a mistake and marry him and then find out there’s someone else who would have been a better match?”

  He patted her arm. “You know, you and I are a lot alike—wanting to follow the rules, to do the right thing, wanting everything to run according to plan.”

  She hadn’t thought about that before. No wonder Dad had always understood her in a way Mom never had.

  His voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes glistened as he turned away from her. “I needed some of your mother’s free-spiritedness as balance in my life. I’m convinced that one of the strengths of our relationship was the way our differences complemented one another, and I’m beyond glad I found her, and that we had these years together. She was My One.”

  Perhaps that was the problem between Clark and her. They were too much alike. “Maybe I should be looking for someone like that. Someone different from me.”

  As he turned back toward her, his gaze held the gentle warmth she’d seen all her life. “If I could fix it for you, I would, Baby Girl. But only you can decide that. Seems to me you’re pretty comfortable in the security of that little boat, though.”

  Boat?

  “You’ve been sittin’ there rowin’ for quite a while. When a storm comes, you just pull your oars in and hunker down until it passes. You might feel the boat rock and hear and see the waves lap against the outside, but they don’t touch you. You never feel them. You’re
nice and dry.”

  “Daddy, I’m not sure—”

  “Honey, maybe it’s time to give yourself permission to do something different and trust in something other than the boat. Why don’t you consider stepping out onto those crashing waves and see what happens?”

  The screen door on the deck creaked open and then slammed shut. “I’m home.”

  Her father squeezed her hand and grinned. “Speaking of crashing waves...I think I’d better go visit with your sister while I can still string a few words together. My body’s several time zones away. Coming?”

  “In a minute.”

  He stood and then pecked her on the forehead. “Just remember, for people like you and me, the hardest part of life is not necessarily the doing and working but more often the waiting.”

  As he walked across the yard to the deck, she glanced upward. Clouds partially obscured the first few stars of the evening. Their lives had been covered with clouds these last few months. Before her mother died, she would have described her life in Dallas as fulfilling. But she had been fooling herself. Her life had been simply full—full of activities and deadlines, of doing and working, just as Dad had said. Every moment of every day was busy, regimented. The checkmarks in her notebooks were visual evidence of all she’d accomplished. Yet, like the hours she’d spent at the gym on the treadmill, she’d been clocking hundreds of miles but never making any progress toward a final destination.

  So, maybe Dad was right. Maybe it was time to throw away the book and try another approach. Essentially every night for almost fifteen years she’d prayed for God to bring the man on the list into her life. But now she realized that had been the wrong prayer.

  At some point, she’d begun to place her faith and trust in the list she’d made. She’d clung to the sides of the boat to ride out the storms instead of trusting in the one who could conquer them. How had she gotten so off course? Forgive me, Father.