Cup of Joe

by Teri Wilson

  Eve was already looking at her with a strange expression on her face. It was time to think of something. Fast.

  “Um,” she murmured barely loud enough for Eve to hear. “This is a great message, huh? Fascinating stuff. I need to get a pen. Gotta write some of this down.”

  Goldie looked at Bliss through the mesh flap in the dog carrier, trying to send her an urgent message with her eyes. Stay. Do not move. Do not make a sound. Stay. Staaaaaay.

  The Cavalier’s ears perked to attention, but she didn’t move. Not even when another loud rustle of crinkly bag came from somewhere down the row of chairs. Still, Goldie wasn’t taking any chances. She unzipped the bag just far enough to stick her hand inside in search of the nonexistent pen.

  “Hmm, I know I have a pen inside here somewhere,” she whispered, just to keep up her charade.

  Bliss flinched when Goldie placed a firm hand on her back. But she stayed put. And Goldie breathed a sigh of relief.

  Until the bag crinkled again. And the chip eater bit into the chip—or cheese ball, or onion thing…whatever—with a resounding crunch.

  Bliss’s wiggly form slipped through Goldie’s fingers, and before she knew what was happening, the spaniel bounded out of the fancy pet carrier and landed with a pounce square in the center of Josh’s lap.

  “What in the …?” Josh, visibly stunned to find a live creature plop in his lap seemingly from out of nowhere, stood up, his arms flailing at the air.

  The poor pastor froze behind the podium as complete mayhem broke out all around him. Confused screams filled the air as Bliss—by now a squirming orange and white streak—bounded from one lap to the next.

  “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry.” Mortified, Goldie sprung from her seat and followed the furry ball of Bliss’s form as she dashed across the laps of each and every “young single.” Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion. Yet, somehow, she still couldn’t seem to catch up with the little dog.

  Until the Cavalier found what she was looking for.

  “There you are! Come here, you bad girl.” Goldie knelt on the floor where Bliss was buried up to her little furry shoulders in a bag of corn chips.

  Ugh. Goldie had always hated corn chips. They were even worse than the dried onion things.

  “Bad girl,” she whispered in the dog’s silky, copper ear. “Bad, bad, bad girl.”

  Goldie scooped Bliss into the crook of her elbow, being careful to pick the corn chip crumbs out of her fuzzy coat.

  “I’m, uh, so sorry for the disruption. I think we’ll be going now.” She pretended to scold Bliss as she gathered the purple velvet bag and her upturned Bible together. In reality, she was too humiliated to meet anyone’s gaze.

  But right before she turned to slink away, as the pastor tried to gain control over the room full of giggling singles, she stole a quick look at Eve.

  Bad idea.

  Eve wasn’t giggling. Or smiling. In fact, she looked downright angry.

  “I’m sorry. It was the crinkly bag,” Goldie mouthed. Then she offered a meager grin and whispered, “I don’t suppose you’ll forgive me since I didn’t wear my hair in a bun?”

  ef

  Joe heaved his guitar strap over his shoulder and strummed the first few chords of the opening worship song. He tried his best to open his heart to the Lord in praise, to feel the hymn flow through him as he played along with the other members of the Turtle Beach Christian Church worship team. Before him, the voices of the congregation rose. The ocean roared at his back, a powerful reminder of the Creator’s presence, but for once, it failed to keep his thoughts on track.

  Turtle Beach Christian Church started its special beach service over three years ago. At first, it was intended to be a seasonal venture, designed as an outreach to summer tourists and beachgoers. But God had other plans. As the months passed, more and more local residents began to show up, lawn chairs in hand and smelling of the sweet, tropical scent of sunscreen. So, the elders decided to keep the beach service and make it a year-round affair. It was a huge success, drawing nearly a hundred worshippers, happy to let their toes sink in the sand while they listened to God’s word, even in the dead of winter.

  Joe had been with the worship team since day one. All his life, he’d worked in the coffee shop mere yards from the foamy ebb and flow of the tide. Back when the shop belonged to his father, and Joe himself was just a child, he’d begun to think of the beach as his backyard. It was as much a part of his life as his childhood bedroom and Spot, the first dog he’d ever called friend. And coffee, of course. For Joe, there was nothing more comforting than the rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans mixed with the briny fragrance of the sea. When he first heard about the beachside church service, he’d signed right up.

  Who wouldn’t love it—standing under the rising sun, surrounded by nothing but crashing waves and the wind blowing off the ocean like the very breath of God? It soothed his soul and brought him peace every Sunday morning.

  Except this one. Try as he might, he just couldn’t concentrate on worship at all. He kept glancing up and scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Cinnamon. So far, he hadn’t spotted her. But, he could have missed her. There were quite a few people at church, and she could be lost in the crowd of flip-flops and beach hats.

  Joe struck the wrong chord, and the other guitar player shot him a questioning glance.

  “Sorry,” Joe muttered and got his fingers back on the correct strings.

  Who was he kidding? When was the last time Cinnamon actually blended in with a crowd? Her flaming red hair alone stuck out like a sore thumb. Not to mention the nose ring.

  She wasn’t here.

  Yet. She’s not here yet. She could still show up. Plenty of people drift into the crowd after worship has started.

  The first song turned into the second, the second into the third and then it was time for Joe to pack up his guitar and listen to the sermon along with everyone else. The message swirled in and out of his ears until the pastor’s closing prayer. As he snapped the closures on his guitar case, he resisted the urge to crane his neck toward the back of the crowd for a glimpse of his wayward barista.

  “Great worship today, Joe. Thanks for your service.” Pastor Paul slapped him on the back and grinned. “I don’t know what we’d do without you around here.”

  Joe immediately felt horribly guilty. Had he even absorbed one word of the pastor’s message? No. He’d been too wrapped up in his own world, anxious for Cinnamon to show up so he could ask Goldie out on a date.

  “Thanks, Pastor,” he managed to mumble.

  “Are you OK? You look a little green in the gills.”

  Joe laughed at the expression, and Pastor Paul added, “Lame, I know. Just a little beach humor.”

  “Thanks. I could actually use a laugh.” Joe sighed. “I was hoping a friend of mine would show up today, and she’s not here…”

  “Well, don’t worry. She’ll show up eventually. Everything in the Lord’s timing, remember?”

  The Lord’s timing. Something about that sounded familiar.

  Oh yeah. The sermon had something to do with the Lord’s timing, didn’t it?

  Joe squeezed the handle of his guitar case so hard his knuckles turned white. He rubbed his temples with the other hand, frustration gathering behind his eyes in the form of a raging headache. What was wrong with him? He always enjoyed Pastor Paul’s sermons, and now he couldn’t even recall a single word of the one he’d given less than five minutes ago.

  “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” Pastor Paul winked as he recited the words to Ecclesiastes 3:11. “Be patient. He knows what He’s doing.”

  He has made everything beautiful in its time.

  The Pastor’s words settled over Joe’s soul as he strolled back to the coffee shop to stow his guitar in his office. The shop was always closed on Sundays, so it was quiet and empty except for Java’s woo-woo greeting and the click of his doggy toenails on the scuffed tile floor.

 
“Hey, boy. Let me put up this guitar and we’ll head for home.”

  As Joe made his way to his office, his gaze found its way to the soft curves of Goldie’s name spelled out in chalk on the menu board. Goldie’s Latte Macchiato.

  He felt a familiar ache in his heart when he saw the words. Even the letters of her name were beautiful.

  Beautiful.

  He has made everything beautiful in its time.

  Joe dropped his guitar case on the floor with a thud. All at once, he realized God was doing exactly that. He was turning Joe’s relationship with Goldie into a beautiful thing. She looked at him differently now. Her eyes sparkled to life when she saw him instead of looking through him as she’d done for so many months. Each glance sent a surge of longing through him so strong he had to clench his teeth to push it down.

  And they talked to each other when they were together. About silly things and serious things too, like her grandfather. Their time together no longer included awkward silences or trivial chitchat.

  Best of all was the fit of her hand in his—and what it meant for the two of them. They fit together. They belonged together. He wanted it now more strongly than ever.

  And, unbelievably, he was beginning to think Goldie just might want it too. After all this time, he could hardly believe it.

  Yes, God was making their time together a beautiful thing. And He was faithful. He wasn’t finished with Joe and Goldie. He would make them beautiful.

  Together.

  In His perfect timing.

  Java nudged Joe’s hand with his snout and prodded his leg with a big paw.

  “OK, OK, we’re going home.” Joe picked up his guitar and propped it in the corner of his office. As he and Java locked up, Joe searched for Goldie’s name on the menu once more through the window. He whispered her name and the letters tasted warm and sweet on his tongue, just like caramel.

  Cup of Joe

  Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing

  Cup of Joe

  Chapter Eight

  “Here are your books, Mrs. Watson. I hope Joey enjoys them.” Goldie slid the stack of picture books toward the harried looking young mother on the opposite side of the library counter.

  “Oh, he will. And he’s really excited about children’s hour today.” Mrs. Watson hoisted the books into her enormous handbag and grabbed the little boy by the hand. “We’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “Great. I’ll see you both then!” Goldie tried to infuse her voice with as much enthusiasm as possible, but the words caught in her throat, and she very nearly had to choke them out. She’d been so looking forward to children’s hour, but now that she was actually here at the library it seemed rather intimidating.

  She tried to remind herself of the pep talk Joe had given her at dog training class. Everything was going to be fine. The kids would love Bliss, who waited patiently in her carrier sitting near Goldie’s feet. What could possibly go wrong?

  Goldie cringed. It seemed a lot was going wrong lately. Since her grandfather died, she’d been kicked out of Care Group and been forced to slink out of a Sunday school class with her tail between her legs. If she wasn’t careful, she would wind up banned from every church activity in Turtle Beach. Was God trying to tell her something? Maybe she’d been wrong about the Big Conversation. Maybe it wasn’t something that could be avoided after all.

  “Goldie, you have a phone call,” Mrs. Simpson, the librarian, looked at her over the top of her bifocals and waved the telephone receiver in the air.

  “Oh, thank you.” Goldie couldn’t imagine who could possibly be calling her here. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it will only take a minute.”

  “Don’t worry. Take your time. We’re always slow on Monday mornings.” Mrs. Simpson beamed at her. “But there are sure to be lots of eager children around lunchtime, anxious for you to read them a story.”

  Goldie gulped and squeaked into the phone, “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end was succinct and to the point. “So, I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  “Eve?”

  “Of course it’s me. Who else needs to forgive you? When you left my Sunday school class yesterday did you run off and terrorize another church somewhere?”

  Goldie breathed a sigh of relief. At least Eve was joking about it now. She’d looked so angry after the dreaded crinkly bag episode that Goldie had wondered when she would hear from her friend again. “I’m so sorry. It was the crinkly bag.”

  After a considerable pause, Eve responded, “That’s what you said yesterday, and it still makes no sense. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. It’s like you’re speaking a foreign language or something.”

  Goldie couldn’t help but say, “You mean like when you speak French to me?”

  “Whatever.” Goldie could practically hear Eve wave her hand in the air with a flick of her wrist. “I’m forgiving you. What’s done is done. How is your first day of work going?”

  “Great. My hair is in a bun.” Goldie struggled to keep any hint of humor out of her voice.

  It didn’t work. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Really, it is.”

  “It better not be.” Eve’s tone suddenly changed, and a teasing lilt strung her words together. “You never know when you might have a visitor there at the library.”

  How did Eve know Joe was planning to bring coffee this morning? Goldie was certain she hadn’t mentioned it. Or had she, without even realizing it?

  While Goldie desperately tried to remember what she could have possibly said, Eve kept on talking in the background. “…so Josh said he might come see you today. I told him you worked at the library, and he actually thought it was cool. Who knew? I guess some guys think it’s a turn-on or something.”

  Wait. What did she just say? “Who?”

  Eve blew a heavy sigh into the phone. “Josh.”

  The name rang a bell, and not in a good way. “Who’s Josh?”

  “Goldie! Josh. You know. The guy you were crushing on at Sunday school. Personally, I thought you had completely blown it after your dog went berserk. But after you left, he was asking me all sorts of questions about you.” Questions Eve, no doubt, was all too happy to answer. “I think he might like you.”

  Oh. No. “Eve, Josh cannot come here this morning.”

  “Sure he can. You won’t get in trouble. It’s a public place. That’s why it’s called the Turtle Beach Public Library.” Shuffling noises came from the other end of the phone, and Goldie could hear Eve talking to someone else. “Look, I’ve got to go. My next class starts in less than a minute. I just wanted to give you a quick heads up about Josh. You can thank me later. Au revoir, mon ami!”

  The line went dead and Goldie stood, frozen to the spot, unable to move.

  Thank her? Hardly.

  How in the world had this happened? She should have known better than to pretend she was attracted to Josh. Or, at the very least, she should have admitted to Eve that she’d made up the story about Josh just so she wouldn’t notice Bliss in the “handbag.”

  In all honesty, Goldie had forgotten all about Josh once Bliss had whirled around the room like a little orange and white tornado. Come to think of it, what kind of nutcase was this guy that he wanted to see her again after she’d made such a spectacle out of herself?

  Goldie plunked the phone back on the hook. It didn’t matter what kind of guy he was. He wasn’t what she wanted. He wasn’t Joe.

  “Morning, Goldie.” Suddenly, as if she’d dreamed him into existence, Joe was standing right in front of her.

  She smiled and took in the sight of him standing at the library counter holding a steaming paper cup with the familiar Joe’s Coffee Shop logo. She’d just seen him Saturday afternoon at dog training class, but seeing him here felt different somehow—as though she hadn’t seen him a long time. It was a giddy feeling, and yet somehow comfortable, all at the same time.<
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  “Good morning, Joe,” she whispered. It was a library, after all.

  “This is for you.” He held the paper cup toward her with a wink. “So, how is it? Your first day?”

  Goldie wrapped her fingers around the warm coffee cup, grateful she now had something to do with her hands besides fidget like a nervous wreck. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was a caramel G drizzled on top of her drink underneath the plastic lid. It seemed like a ridiculous notion. Who would go to the trouble to decorate a drink when it was hidden in a take-out container?

  Joe would. If anyone would do something that sweet, it would be him.