by Carol James
She placed her hand in his as he drew her closer, and they began moving around the floor. She was home—the place she was created to be. The entire restaurant faded away until only they remained. Juanita’s teaching had not been in vain. She would have been proud had she been able to see them.
As the music ended, he dipped her. Their eyes locked, and time disappeared. Applause broke out. He drew her upright, and she began to applaud but then noticed she and Sam were the only ones left on the dance floor. The other couples had moved off to the sides and were clapping for them.
Rusty gave her a thumbs-up and tipped his hat.
The lights dimmed and the band began a slow ballad.
She stepped to head back to the table, but Sam stood firm. “Dance with me one last time?”
As he placed his arms around her waist and pulled her close, she snuggled up against him. He laid his cheek against her head, and she whispered, “I’m sorry, so sorry, Sam.” She had to tell him, to know things were right between them before he left. “Please forgive me.” The evening’s earlier tears returned.
“Don’t cry, Katy Beth. There’s nothing to forgive.”
If only she believed that.
He pulled her closer, and she tightened her embrace. No more words were exchanged, as memories were created in the silence. After he was gone, every cell of her body would be able to recall this moment and exactly how perfect his nearness felt. Contentment and desire were having a tug of war in her heart, and contentment was losing. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
His breath tickled her ear. “I have to.”
The end of the song was approaching, and every inch of her prayed for the band to play one more chorus. But they didn’t. She would not beg him. If he stayed, it needed to be out of desire and not pity.
“My ride’s waiting. Gotta go.”
By the entrance stood a man in black pants, a white shirt, and a black bowtie. A limo driver. Sam’s car was probably already on a ship headed across the Atlantic.
As he led her back to her table, he squeezed her hand. “Promise me one thing.”
Anything. Right now, she would promise him anything. She nodded.
He pulled a notebook about the size of a deck of cards from his pocket and placed it into her palm. “Save your dances for me?” He turned, and the back of his shirt retreated through the crowd on the dance floor until it disappeared out the door.
She sank down onto her chair. In one breath’s time, he was gone. Really gone. She might never see him again. He was gone, and her heart was filled with a leaden emptiness.
She pushed the limp salad to the side. Her appetite had disappeared. The ice cream in the two floats had melted and the distinct brown and white layers had combined into one indistinct, room-temperature, tan mixture.
She lifted his gift, the tiny red notebook, up to her nose to breathe in the fragrance of him one last time. As she did, the pages spread open to reveal his handwriting. She closed the book, placed it on the table in front of her, and then slowly re-opened it. He’d numbered—no dated—every page and then printed something on each one.
The first page bore tomorrow’s date and the simple phrase, Pray for Sam. Every following page for the next four weeks repeated the same phrase. Yes. She had been praying for him for weeks—months—and she wouldn’t stop now.
She turned to the next page—the beginning of the fifth week. Pray for Sam. Go out on a date with Sam. Dance with Sam. How was she supposed to go on a date with him or dance with him when he was on the other side of the world?
She flipped over one more page. Another short list, but some of the words were different from those on the page before. She read them again, and as their meaning soaked into her heart, she fought to breathe. Springing up out of her chair, she threw some cash onto the table, grabbed her phone and the notebook. Please, be there. The car needs to still be there. She excused her way across the dance floor as quickly as she could and then burst through the door onto the sidewalk.
The street was empty. The limo was nowhere to be seen.
Opening the notebook, she reread the last page, just to make sure she hadn’t misread the words. She hadn’t. Pray for Sam. Help Sam move into his new apartment back home. Dance with Sam. She understood the words that composed the phrases but not their corporate meaning.
As her phone rang, his picture popped up.
“Sam!”
“You read my book yet?”
“Yes.” An innumerable number of questions whirled around in her mind, all fighting to be asked first. But she couldn’t voice them. Her heart feared what the answers might be.
“Sorry to leave you, Katy Beth, but I have to pack up everything in my flat in London so it can be shipped back to the States.”
She could hardly breathe. “So, you’re moving back?”
“Yes, after I get everything tied up in the UK.”
“To where?” But what did it really matter? A few weeks ago, she’d been ready to pack up and follow him to London. Pretty much any place in the States would be closer.
“Well, let’s see. I’ve thought about Chicago. Or maybe Atlanta—I hear it’s a nice town. But then the weather in Seattle is a lot like the UK. I’d probably feel right at home there. Yep, Seattle’s got to be at the top of the list.”
Seattle. “Really?” Surely, he was joking. But then, Seattle was closer than London. She could move to Seattle.
“Yep. But there’s only one problem with that.”
“Problem?”
“Yeah. What do I do about the lease I have on an apartment in Crescent Bluff?”
“Lease?” Her heart pounded, and she struggled to keep her voice even. “Oh, yes. I can see how that would be quite a problem. Sleeping in Crescent Bluff and commuting to Seattle every day.”
“Exactly. I'm glad you understand my dilemma.”
She couldn’t contain her laugh. “So tell me, Mr. Tucker. Why in the world would you lease an apartment in Crescent Bluff if you really wanted to live in Seattle?”
“Well, it seems I’ve got this bit of unfinished business to attend to in Crescent Bluff. You see, there’s this woman there who’s absolutely crazy about me. I mean she really loves me. So much so that she proposed to me.”
She tried to reply, but the happy tears stole her voice.
“Crazy thing is, I love her even more than she loves me. She’s My One. The girl I’ve wanted all these years. So, Katherine Elizabeth Herrington, it’s time for that answer I couldn’t give you in Oklahoma. Yes. Yes, I will marry you. Yesterday, today, and forever, I’m yours.”
“Oh, Sam.” Her cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Sorry I made you wait so long, Katy Beth.”
Every second, every minute, every hour she had waited was worth it. She loved him with an everlasting love. Thank You, Father.
“Love, I’ll see you in five weeks.”
“Oh, Sam. I’ll be waiting.”
A Devotional Moment
Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. ~ John 8:32
When we begin to see the world through faith, we work to achieve the desirable qualities that God has appointed for Christians, and we expect those qualities in others. When we fail to live up to our higher standards, angst rides our hearts. Yes, we work harder to be the person we think we’re meant to be—often to the point that we bury the “old” us as if it never existed. It is true that once God forgives our past sins, they no longer exist, but sometimes, God wants us to revisit through memory and sharing, without condemnation, the old experiences that helped to mold us. Our forgiven failings, lead to greater understanding for others. Sometimes, what we see as negative is exactly what God uses to minister to others. Just as we must recognize this in ourselves, we must recognize the same possibilities in others and refrain from judging them based on their past.
In The Waiting, the unmarried protagonist has a list of traits she requires in a husband. Any man who doesn’t meet the standard is dropped. But then s
he meets someone, who, despite his less-than-desirable qualities, tugs at her heart strings. The traits she initially sees as a drawback are speaking to others and bringing new Christians into the fold. Her perfect list is competing with God’s perfect plans.
Have you ever judged another based on who they were and not who they are now? Have you ever tried to hide the person you once were, thinking that your past negates the Christian you are now? It’s easy to forget that God uses flawed people every day. Remember that it is the truth which sets you free, not running from it. Your past experiences, coupled with your current understanding of God’s grace might just be the thing He needs to bring another lost sheep home.
LORD, YOU REMAIN FAITHFUL EVEN WHEN WE FALTER, AND YOU WON’T JUST DROP US BECAUSE WE FAIL. ALLOW ME ALWAYS TO ACCEPT THAT TRUTH. ALLOW ME THE GRACE TO UNDERSTAND THAT MY OWN SHAMEFUL PAST CAN BE USED FOR YOUR GOOD IF I ALLOW YOU TO DO SO, AND ALLOW ME ALWAYS TO EXTEND GRACE TO OTHERS. IN JESUS’ NAME I PRAY, AMEN.
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AMDG
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