Forever Soul Ties

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Yeah, that’s what I have been most concerned about with our daughters. Their father was hardly ever around. I pray every day that they don’t end up with some guy who treats them badly and they feel they’re just supposed to accept it.”

  “You mean like you do?”

  I pulled back. “What do you mean ‘like I do’?”

  “Sounds to me like you let your husband treat you badly,” Ethan said.

  “No. Not really. He doesn’t hit me. He will fuss, but not much. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s not always the nicest person. And he’ll tell you that I fuss enough for the both of us. He’s a relatively calm, cool guy. I fuss, and he systematically stands there not saying much, which only makes me furious and fuss that much more.”

  Ethan let out a chuckle. “Yeah. And why do you women do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Fuss even harder when we don’t say anything back to you?”

  “Why don’t y’all say something when we’re fussing?” I said. “What we’re really saying when we fuss is: let me know that I really matter to you and show that you actually care. That’s it.” I threw both my hands up and out and held them like I was a statue for a few seconds before putting them down.

  “And what we’re thinking at that moment is: don’t say anything to set her off any more than she already is. Just be quiet and pray that she runs out of steam soon.”

  “Well, I don’t look at what my husband is doing to me as mistreating me.” I reflected over that thought for a few seconds. “Nope. He really doesn’t mistreat me.”

  “Okay. If you say so,” Ethan said. “But if you were my wife, I can assure you I wouldn’t be going anywhere where you weren’t. And if I had to be separated from you, you’d better believe I couldn’t wait to get back to you. Why go somewhere else when everything you want and desire is already right there with you?”

  “Yeah, you say that now because you’re not married to me,” I said. “But you and I both know that it’s a different story when people are married. All of that ‘Baby, I love you’ stuff goes right out the window when you start leaving dirty clothes all over the floor like you have a maid to pick up after you. There’s a dishwasher now, as opposed to when you may have first started out, and you’re acting like your hands don’t work to open it up and put your own dirty dishes inside. I then start fussing. . . ”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. It’s me, here. I didn’t do it.”

  I smiled. “Sorry. Here we were talking about you and your things, and I’m going off on my own little tangent about my home.”

  “Well, I hope you know that I’m always here if you ever want to talk or merely unload . . . get something off of your chest.”

  “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said. “Not a good idea.”

  “And why is that?”

  I turned and stared at him. “Soul ties,” I said.

  He turned up his nose. “Soul ties?”

  “Yeah. Look, Ethan. I’m going to be straight with you. I understand how things work. If I start telling you things and you start telling me things, before you know anything, we’re sowing into each other’s lives. And when you do that, you create and, I dare say, tighten ties with each other. Soul ties are strong. They go deeper than what can be seen on the surface.” I shook my head slowly as I thought about it. “You and I need to be careful, that’s all I’m saying. But I truly am concerned about what and how you’re feeling right now. So have you talked with your wife about how you feel? Have you told her any of these things you just told me?”

  “Yes, I have talked to her and I’ve talked to her, all to no avail. And I’m just tired now. I don’t know if any of this matters anymore. My marriage, my job, what I’m doing for the Lord. Does it matter?” He appeared exasperated.

  “Okay, now wait, wait, wait,” I said, and again, without thinking, I placed my hand on his. “What you’re doing for the Lord is important work. Souls are being led to the Lord because of what you do. Do you understand? People are being introduced to Christ because of you. So you can’t be serious about even thinking about quitting the work that you’re doing.”

  “How am I supposed to help somebody else when my own house is not right? Huh?” Ethan said. “How can I tell someone else how to make their marriage stronger when I can’t even manage to keep my own wife at home? And I’ve prayed for so long, but it doesn’t seem like God is listening. I’m just being real right now. Yes, I know scriptures. I know them; I can quote them. I know all of the right things to say. I do. But sometimes . . .” He stopped and made a fist, then hit his thigh with it.

  “I know. I know. I’ve been there myself, believe me. But you can’t quit now. You can’t. You know this is just the devil trying to take you out. You’re doing too much for the Kingdom of God for you to even think about going out like this. The harvest is plentiful and the laborers are just too few.” I shook my head.

  “Look, I’m not quitting on God. I’m just tired. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have to put on a happy face almost every time you step out of your house? Every single day of your life, you have to fake happiness.”

  Yes, as a matter of fact I do know.

  “And who can I tell how I’m feeling? Certainly not anyone at church. Nobody wants to see me as being weak or having problems. My friends really don’t want to hear me talking about how bad I feel about things. Not the friends in my life. Most of them are in the same boat or worse. So where or who else do I turn to except God? But when I talk to Him, I’m left wondering if He even cares. I’m just being real with you. I’m being totally honest.”

  I took his hand again and squeezed it. “And that’s fine, Ethan. You can be real with me. You can be as raw and as honest with how you feel as you need to be. I don’t mind. And I won’t judge you for what you say.” Everybody needs a safe place they can go and be open and true in how they’re feeling.

  He looked at me and tilted his head slightly before smiling, then gave me a quick nod. “Well, you need to get back to your shop. I’ve kept you long enough.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been gone much longer than I’d originally intended.”

  “Well, I’m grateful and appreciate the time we were able to spend today.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  And without any warning, he leaned over and kissed me. Not a peck, but a real kiss. When he finished, I was frowning for two reasons. One: that he’d kissed me. And the other?

  That I’d let him.

  Chapter 10

  Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

  —Romans 8:35

  Later that night, as I sat in a chair alone in my bedroom with the television turned to a show I wasn’t even watching, I replayed the events of the day.

  As normal, I’d gone to the flower shop, arriving a little before eight a.m. The shop’s advertised hours were nine to five, mainly because the area wasn’t as safe as it used to be, and because there wasn’t a real reason to remain open past five. When I first opened my doors for business during the middle of May, the advertised operating hours were from nine a.m. until seven p.m. But no one ever called or came by after four o’clock. So at the beginning of September, I made the decision to change the shop’s closing time to five.

  On this day, I’d closed the shop and gone to the park to walk as I’d done a few times already. Ethan called just as I was on my way out of the door. I’d agreed to let him walk with me, not that I could have really stopped him. After all, it is a public park. Anyone can come and walk if they so choose. So Ethan came.

  We walked and we talked. Honestly, it was a great workout. I mean, people pay to be worked out like that. He’d asked for water. And I just so happened to have a bottle of water in my car. What was I supposed to do? He’d worked out much harder than I had. He needed that water. Sort of reminded me of Jesus and that woman from Samari
a—the woman at the well that Jesus busted about her husbands. The woman who had come to draw water from a well that Jesus truthfully had no business even being at when He said to her, “Give me to drink.”

  No. That wasn’t a good example. Jesus was doing a good thing. He was on His job, doing the work of Him who had sent Him. He was doing the work of His Father in Heaven. Ethan . . . Ethan was just out walking and running for exercise sake.

  Still, he needed some water. And I had some in my car. I’d gone to get it. In fact, I did offer to bring it back to him. But instead, he followed me to my car. He’d gotten inside my car . . . sat there in the seat next to me. No big deal. We talked. He opened up. His words touched me. He wasn’t playing a game. He just needed someone to talk to; he needed a friend. And we were friends. Well, maybe not friends in the sense of the word “friends.” But I can’t lie: I care about what happens to him. I care about what he’s going through. He needed someone to encourage him. After all, he’s doing a great work for the Kingdom of God. This much I know.

  And like the prophet Nehemiah in the Bible, Ethan had to know that he was doing a good work and he couldn’t come down. That’s all Satan was trying to do; he was trying to get Ethan to come down off the wall. I decided to stand with Ethan to let him know that he couldn’t come down off the wall. He had to stay on the wall and keep doing God’s work. That’s all today was about. I was trying to do my part by encouraging him the best way that I knew how.

  But then . . . then something happened.

  Something changed during the conversation. And he leaned over and kissed me. Okay, so he just got caught up in the moment. That was all that was. His emotions merely got the best of him. That would be okay, except for what he said after he’d finished kissing me. That’s what has me wrestling with everything as I sit here with nothing but my thoughts to play with.

  “I . . . have wanted to do that for so long,” Ethan had said.

  He’d wanted to kiss me for a long time? How long? How long had he been thinking about kissing me? Was it since he called the flower shop that first day and got me? Since he ordered that second set of flowers and gave them to me? Since he saw me at the park today?

  Or was it even farther back than that? Like that time I saw him at that funeral a few years after we were both married to other people. Or maybe it was that day we ran into each other in the mall at Rich’s?

  How long had Ethan been thinking about doing that? How long had he thought about kissing me?

  And if it was before he called my flower shop that day to order a bouquet of flowers for his wife, had he really only happened to call? Or did he already know that was my place of business? Did he know I was the owner of The Painted Lady Flower Shop? Had he called on purpose just so he could find a way to see me again? Was I the unsuspecting subject of a well-orchestrated setup?

  How long had Ethan Roberts thought about kissing me? But more important now: how long would it take for me to get over him having kissed me?

  How long?

  Chapter 11

  But exhort one another daily, while it is called Today; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.

  —Hebrews 3:13

  Ethan called me at the flower shop the following day.

  “Listen, I wanted to let you know how much you blessed me yesterday,” he said immediately after I finished my professional answering spiel.

  I picked up a cut yellow gladiolus by its stem. “I didn’t do anything special.”

  “Oh, trust me: you did a lot more than you’ll ever know.”

  “If you say so. I’m just glad I was able to be of some help.” I paused to give him an opportunity to be more specific on what was better now since the last time we spoke. Had he gone home and things were better with his wife? Had he decided what he was doing in ministry was indeed too important to turn his back on? Was he deep-sixing that whole idea of leaving here to live somewhere all the way across country?

  “I can’t talk long,” he said. “I’m on my break and wanted to call you and say hello. And to let you know how much you blessed me yesterday. Hopefully, we can do that again soon.” He said the word “soon” as though it were more of a question than a statement.

  “Sure. I suppose,” I said. “I like to walk.”

  “Great. Admittedly though, it will be almost impossible for me to get off of work and walk in the morning time the way I was able to yesterday.”

  “Me, too. I can only go like that when things are slow here at the shop. I’m expecting business to pick up any time now. And when that happens, I definitely won’t be taking off during the morning hours to go walking. Not like I’ve been able to do lately.”

  “Maybe you and I can go in the afternoon? I normally get off work at two when we’re not working overtime, which occasionally we do.”

  “If you get off work at two, what time do you have to be there?” I said, then quickly realizing the invasiveness of the question, I added, “Just out of curiosity.”

  He laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t mind you asking things like that. In fact, you can ask me anything you want. When it comes to you, I have nothing to hide. I have to be at work bright and early at five in the morning, and I generally get off at two in the afternoon; one-thirty if I only take a thirty-minute lunch break.”

  “Five to two, that’s an odd shift.”

  “Sort of. But it works for the company. We have lots of eighteen-wheelers that come in during the morning hours that must be loaded early. Personally, I like getting off work that early in the afternoon. It gives me time to get things done before everyone else gets off. And I can do things like pick up my daughters from after-school activities or take them to their doctor’s and dentist’s appointments, stuff like that.”

  “Yeah, but you have to get up so early in order to get to work on time.”

  “I do. But I’m used to it. I’ve been doing it for years now.”

  “Well . . . maybe we can walk sometimes. It will be fine. We’ll see how our schedules go, and if it works, it works.”

  “Great,” he said. “Then I’ll just check in with you on occasion to see if you’re interested. And if you are, we’ll go. If you’re busy or can’t go, then we’ll just try for another time.”

  He definitely had me thinking now. It would be nice having someone to walk with. But agreeing to go with Ethan would now leave me wondering whether I should go when I can or wait and see if he’s going to call. I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I ended up walking twice in a day. On the other hand, if I didn’t walk because I was waiting on his call, then that would be a day of missed walking. More than likely, I wouldn’t be doing much walking during the early part of the day, opting for the afternoon. If he was going to walk, I’m sure he’d call and let me know—

  “Excuse me, what did you say?” I asked, suddenly aware that while I was working this out in my head, he was talking.

  “My fifteen-minute break is almost up so I was saying that I need to get off the phone. But I had to call and let you know how much you helped me yesterday, and how much I enjoyed spending that time with you, short as it was. Believe me: I needed that more than you’ll ever know.”

  “So does this mean that you’re going to fight the good fight of faith yet another day?” I said with a smile in my voice.

  “Yes, I’m going to fight the good fight of faith yet another day. Oh, and I did talk to my wife last night after she came home.”

  “That’s good. So how did it go? That’s if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “It went . . . pretty well; I must say that it did. We both expressed things we needed to say to each other. She assured me that she was going to try and do more with our girls. We both agreed to try and do better by each other.”

  “That’s great! I told you the two of you just needed to talk.”

  “Yes, you did. But it’s not like she and I haven’t had this talk before. And it’s not like she hasn’t said she was going to try and do better before. The word try is
what bothers me the most. I don’t believe in try. I believe either you do or you don’t. But that’s another discussion for another time. As for me and my wife, we’ll just have to see how things go. Time has a way of telling that which is untold.”

  “Ooh, I like that. ‘Time has a way of telling that which is untold.’ I’ll have to remember that and use it sometime. Seriously though: I’m glad to hear that things may be heading in a better direction for you. I really am.”

  Ethan chuckled. “I’ve got to get off this phone, but I have to tell you this real quick. She even said something about the flowers I gave her.”

  “You mean the ones you bought her back in August? The ones you got from my shop?”

  “Yep. Those,” he said. “Last night, she finally thanked me for them.”

  “Hold up,” I said. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I’m as serious as a heart attack.”

  “You mean to tell me that she didn’t say anything about the flowers when you gave them to her a month ago?”

  “She didn’t say one word. Didn’t mumble, didn’t grunt, didn’t open her mouth,” Ethan said. “When I gave them to her, she shrugged, then set the vase down on the table in the den where we stood.”

  “Wow,” I said, trying to contain my true astonishment in hearing this. “So you didn’t know whether she liked them or not.”

  “Well, from her reaction when I gave them to her, I would have said she couldn’t have cared less. But”—he said with a lift in his voice—“last night, my darling wife told me, ‘Thanks for the flowers.’ At first I was thinking she’d received some flowers yesterday at work and thought I’d sent them. So I asked, ‘What flowers?’ To which she proceeded to say, ‘The ones you brought home to me. You know: the ones you bought me a few weeks ago. They were real nice.’ Almost floored me. I couldn’t believe it.”