Cup of Joe

by Teri Wilson

  Goldie slipped in front of him and tried to concentrate on reading and practicing the signs. She moved her hands in the proper motions for each command, as if an imaginary little spaniel pranced alongside her and did exactly as she said. Joe’s presence behind her was more than mildly distracting, but she did her best to focus. After all, she’d worked hard this week, and she was eager to get a chance in the ring with Bliss.

  So eager, in fact, that when Harold asked if anyone wanted to go first she raised her hand and called out, “I will.”

  Joe glanced at her, his brows raised in surprise. Goldie gave him a tiny nod. “We’re ready. You’ll see.”

  “OK then,” Harold smiled pleasantly at her. His ever-present companion, Bugsy, stood by his side. “Go get Bliss, and let’s see how you do.”

  While Goldie bent down to let Bliss out of the crate and fasten the leash in place, she found herself once again struck by how much Harold reminded her of Grandpa. Naturally, they were similar in age. But there was something else, too. Something Goldie couldn’t quite put her finger on that almost made her feel as though her grandfather was the one standing in the Rally ring.

  She shivered as she stood and strode back to the center of the room, trying to shake the strange sensation that came over her when she looked at Harold again. At first, she’d found his similarity to her grandfather comforting, but the more he reminded her of Grandpa, the more unsettling it became. She wondered why. With a pang, she realized that Peggy would say it had something to do with the closed door to her grandfather’s room.

  This is ridiculous. He’s an older man. Of course, he reminds me of Grandpa. And it doesn’t matter that I still haven’t gone in his room. I’ll be ready eventually. Someday.

  Goldie approached the Start sign and settled Bliss into a sit-at-heel position, close to her left foot. She just needed to focus on her dog and making her way through the Rally course. That’s all.

  “Are you ready?” Harold asked.

  Goldie didn’t want to take the chance of looking at him and forgetting everything she’d been practicing all week, so she focused her gaze on Joe instead. He nodded at her and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Goldie smiled in return. “Yes, we’re ready.”

  She expected Harold to call out, “Forward,” to send her on her way through the course. But, he didn’t. Instead, he gave her a few last minute reminders. “Don’t forget to give Bliss signals with your left hand only; otherwise, you’ll get a crooked sit. Each crooked sit is a one-point deduction. You want to avoid that, if possible. And talk to her as much as you can. Keep her engaged and interested in you.”

  “OK,” Goldie replied and automatically glanced over at him. He had his arms crossed as he spoke, and she noticed that the pinky finger on his right hand was curled tightly closed. Her heart skipped a beat. Grandpa’s pinky finger had looked like that. Since he injured it in a printing press accident years ago, he couldn’t straighten it if he tried. She’d never seen him without the bent pinky. It had been that way for as long as she could remember.

  Goldie’s throat grew dry as she stared at Harold’s finger. He kept talking, saying things that didn’t register in her consciousness, as she waited for the pinky to unfold.

  “Goldie? Are you listening?” Harold uncrossed his arms and held out his palms. Two outstretched, perfectly normal looking palms.

  Goldie relaxed and took a breath. “Y-yes. Go on.”

  His hands are fine. Just fine. That’s Harold, not Grandpa. What is wrong with me?

  She longed to look at Joe and bask in the comforting glow of his gaze, but she didn’t dare. Harold already thought she wasn’t paying attention, and she didn’t want to appear rude. So, she nodded in all the right places and tried her best to appear eager, even though Bliss’s leash shook like a leaf in her trembling hands.

  “Look how nicely Bliss is sitting there, waiting for you to start,” Harold cooed. Even Bugsy looked as though she approved. “I’ll stop talking now so you can get going. One last thing, though—remember to loosen up on the leash. At the dog show, each time the leash is pulled taut you’ll get a one-point deduction, just like a crooked sit. Capeesh?”

  All at once, the blood drained from Goldie’s head. Her ears throbbed with a deafening whooshing noise. What had he just said? Capeesh? That was her Grandpa’s word. She’d never once heard any one else say it, except for Joe that day they walked on the beach together. “I-I-I beg your pardon?”

  “Capeesh. It’s an Italian slang word.” Harold furrowed his brows. “Are you all right, Goldie? You don’t look well.”

  “No,” Goldie answered, her voice taking on an eerie, distant quality. “I’m not OK. I’m not OK at all.”

  Suddenly, it was all too much. All the memories of her grandfather came crashing down on her at once—things she hadn’t dared think about since he passed away. His bent pinky finger, his favorite slang word, the way he sometimes cheated at checkers just to let her win. Standing there at the Start sign in the Rally practice ring, she realized she couldn’t avoid the memories any longer.

  She was vaguely aware of the other students’ worried glances in her direction. Harold was saying something—she wasn’t sure what. The sound of his voice made her want to clamp her hands over her ears.

  “Goldie.”

  The voice in her ear wasn’t Harold’s. This one was softer and full of emotion. Disoriented, she blinked at its source. “Joe?”

  He stood right near her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. With his free hand, he ran his thumb over her cheek. “It’s me. I’m right here.”

  Part of her wanted nothing more than to melt in his arms, but she couldn’t. It was time. Time to face everything. Time for the Big Conversation. “I need to go home now.”

  “OK. Come on.” She let him guide her, like a small child, out of the ring. “Let’s get you home.”

  Somehow, she ended up sitting in the front seat of Joe’s car. Bliss and Java were safely tucked in the back, along with the collapsible crates and all the other training equipment. Goldie had no idea how any of it happened. Of course, Joe must have packed up everything. But even though the world around her swirled in a slow-motion fog, she had no recollection of lowering herself into the warm leather seat, of Joe carrying all her things or even buckling her seatbelt.

  Yet here she sat, alongside Joe, on the way back to her house.

  “I’m worried about you, Goldie.” Joe eyes searched hers for a moment before he looked back at the road.

  When he faced forward once more, Goldie watched the vein in his temple throb and swell. She tried to force herself to respond. “I-I just need to get home. It’s time.”

  “Time for what?” His voice was gentle, yet urgent.

  “The conversation. The big one.”

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Goldie sat in silence. She wished she could tell him what was happening, but she couldn’t bring herself to put it into words.

  Joe reached over and took her hand in his. He ran his thumb over her knuckles in slow, easy circles. “It’s OK. Everything is going to be OK.” He lifted their interlocked fingers and pressed his lips against the back of her hand. The kiss was slow, deliberate. When it was over, he held her hand against his cheek for a long moment before letting go.

  Goldie wondered why he returned her hand, empty, to her lap.

  Then, he spoke again. “We’re here.”

  “Oh.” She looked out the window at the only home she had ever known, and sighed. “We are.”

  “Can I come inside with you?” Joe’s gaze was pleading. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  Goldie shook her head. “No. I wish you could. But I can only do this alone.”

  “Isn’t there anything at all I can do to help? It’s killing me seeing you in pain like this.”

  “I’ll be OK,” Goldie murmured, but the words came out all wobbly and disjointed.

  Joe took his time climbing out of the car and unloading a
ll of her things. The whole time, she sat motionless in the passenger seat. Even though she knew she needed to go inside, to finally have it out with God and face all the painful memories, weariness penetrated her bones. She honestly didn’t know how she would make it from the car to the front door.

  “Are you ready to go in?” Joe held her door open and offered his hand. Bliss stood panting at his feet, her head swiveling as she looked back and forth between Goldie and Joe.

  Goldie nodded and placed her hand in his. When he helped lift her out of the car, he placed a firm arm around her waist and walked her to the front door. Goldie fumbled with her keys, her hands still trembling. Agitated, Bliss stood on her hind legs and pawed at Goldie shins.

  “Here, let me.” Joe slipped the keys out of her fingers, and Goldie was struck by how natural and familiar the warmth of his skin felt against her own.

  As soon as the door opened, Bliss charged inside, spinning in excited circles. Usually such antics brought a smile to Goldie’s lips, but this time, she felt nothing.

  “If you need anything, Goldie. Anything at all…” Joe’s voice trailed off, but the message was clear.

  “I’ll be OK,” Goldie managed to say. “Really. Thanks for everything.”

  Joe jammed his hand through his hair and exhaled a sharp puff of breath. “But I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yes you have.” This time Goldie was the one to reach out to him. She placed her palm on his chest, right where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. “Just being there for me is more than I could ask.”

  The look on his face was more than she could bear. It would be so easy to stay out here on the porch and try to forget all about the closed door to Grandpa’s room. If she didn’t turn around and go inside immediately, she knew she might never deal with her grief. And then, what would happen? Where would she be the next time it hit her? In the grocery store? At the library?

  Without another word, Goldie turned and walked inside. She didn’t even turn around when she closed the door, but instead just shut it behind her back so she wouldn’t have to see him at all.

  Cup of Joe

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

  Cup of Joe

  Chapter Twelve

  Joe had never felt so powerless in all his life. The very moment Harold had used that word—capeesh—the hair on the back of Joe’s neck stood still. If it affected him like that, what must it have been like for Goldie?

  Completely devastating, by the looks of things. Watching her stand there in the center of the room at dog training class had been like witnessing the very life drain right of her. Before he could even cross the room, leap over the white lattice ring guards and reach her side, she’d all but disappeared. His Goldie was gone. Replaced by this broken girl who he had no idea how to fix.

  He paced back and forth the small length of the front porch. If only she would let him inside. Surely, there was something he could do to help. She was barely coherent. He didn’t see how in the world she would be safe alone like that. All the way home, she was hardly responsive. She just kept mumbling something about a conversation. He didn’t even know who she needed to talk to.

  Joe sank to the ground, frustrated beyond belief. He tried praying, but could barely concentrate. Even worse, he wasn’t sure exactly what to pray for. After several failed attempts, the best he could come up with was simply, “Lord, please take care of Goldie.”

  Only six small words.

  They seemed painfully inadequate.

  When he was finished praying, he tried to make himself as still and quiet as possible so perhaps he could get some sort of sense of what was going on inside Goldie’s home. He leaned his back against the heavy wooden doorframe and took shallow, quiet breaths. Nothing. He couldn’t hear a thing. Then he realized that that was probably for the best. He knew he shouldn’t be spying on Goldie. The temptation was almost too much to bear. For a brief flicker of a moment, he actually considered trying to peek inside one of her windows.

  No. I can’t. She doesn’t want me in there. I’ve got to respect her privacy, even if being out here is tearing me up inside.

  So, instead, he busied himself trying to imagine Goldie, alone in the silent house. Had she loosened her ponytail from the silky scarf? He closed his eyes and pictured her thick, blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders in gilded waves. For once, he couldn’t take pleasure in such a vision. Every time he conjured her in his mind, her eyes stole his focus from all else. Sometimes he saw them bright and shiny, brimming with unshed tears. Even worse, other times he saw them dull and lifeless, like they’d been all the way home in the car. Try as he might, he couldn’t bring the image of Goldie, happy and whole, back to his mind’s eye.

  Java, still situated in the back seat of the car, hung his head out the backseat window and whined pitifully. The mournful noise beckoned to Joe and took him out of his reverie.

  “Sorry, boy,” Joe muttered as he lifted himself off the porch and walked to the car. His footsteps were careful, slow and deliberate. They became more hesitant with each step he took.

  Java whined again, as if urging him forward. The poor dog furrowed his brows and cocked his head in concern.

  “Don’t worry. I’m coming,” he whispered toward the Husky. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

  But as the words left his mouth, he knew at once they were untrue. What was he saying? He couldn’t go anywhere. Not now.

  When at last he closed the distance between himself and the car, he reached for the handle of the back door instead of the driver’s seat. He gave Java a shush command before letting him bound out of the car. As soon as his paws hit the pavement, the Husky shook his body from the cold tip of his black nose to the end of his tail. He stood for a few moments, taking in his surroundings. Then he sat politely and woofed in a very soft voice at Joe. Everything about his posture seemed to say, “Now what?”

  If Joe hadn’t been so worried about Goldie, he would have chuckled. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders at Java. “I don’t know. I haven’t the first clue what to do now. I just know I can’t leave.”

  The two of them lingered there, side by side. Finally, Java yawned a big, squeaky dog yawn and started to curl up in a ball at Joe’s feet.

  “No, no. We can’t just stay here at the curb.” Joe ran both hands through his hair and gripped his temples. “Come on, get up.”

  At Joe’s urging, Java scrambled to his feet again. Joe reached inside the car and brought out Java’s travel bowl and a bottle of water from his dog training supplies. Without thinking, he also grabbed the remains of Goldie’s whippaccino.

  “Come on.” Joe nodded backward toward Goldie’s porch and Java trotted toward him. “Let’s go sit over here for a while.”

  With the big dog on his heels, he made his way back to the porch. He filled up Java’s water bowl and once the dog had had a drink, Joe patted the top step and urged him to lie down. With a heavy sigh, the Husky folded his legs beneath him. When he was all settled, he curled his tail around his body in a tight hug, the white hair on the very tip delicately covering his nose.

  Joe gave the dog a wistful smile and then realized he was still holding Goldie’s whippaccino. He didn’t know what he was even doing with it. Somehow, he must have supposed if he had it ready, waiting for her, she might possibly step out onto the porch any minute.

  She didn’t.

  Joe finally set down the cup with a careful hand, right next to the front door. Then, he sat next to his dog and held his head in his hands, emotionally spent. As the hours passed, the radiant light of the afternoon slipped away and was replaced with the cool tranquility of twilight. Tiny white petals from the cherry trees in Goldie’s yard floated on the evening breeze. In the distance, Joe could hear the rush of high tide bubbling at the shore. Tomorrow was Sunday, and he was expected to stand on that very beach and lead worship at his church.

/>   Joe exhaled heavily. Tomorrow morning seemed so far away, yet he knew he would need to be there no matter what else—if anything—happened here tonight. He took another, long look over his shoulder at Goldie’s front door. Then he rested against its frame, finally allowing his eyes to close. The darkness of night wrapped around him and Java like a heavy blanket. Joe’s last thought before drifting off to sleep was that sitting here, keeping this strange vigil, seemed almost like the ultimate act of faith. It would have been far easier to bang on the door and insist Goldie let him in. Instead, he could do nothing but wait and trust that whatever Goldie was going through, God would be right there by her side.

  ef

  The first thing Goldie did when she was finally inside was untie the scarf wound around her ponytail. As she walked into the living room, she let the lavender dotted silk slip through her fingers and flutter to the floor. After shooting a glance in the direction of the sofa, she stepped out of her clothes on the way to the bedroom. The jeans remained pooled in a pile on the floor while she slid into the familiar Sponge Bob pajamas. Goldie supposed it was OK to wear them for the Big Conversation. There wasn’t a rulebook for this sort of thing, so she hoped it wasn’t inappropriate. The thought of facing God wearing them sent a hysterical bubble of laughter from her lips, which turned into a strangled sob. She wasn’t thinking clearly. That much she knew. But she had to get out of those clothes—the ones she’d worn to class. She couldn’t get them off fast enough. She was like a snake shedding its skin. She needed a fresh start. A new beginning.