Lambert's Pride

by Coleman, Lynn A.

  “Kavan.” Elizabeth allowed him to hold her chair as she sat down. “This is beautiful.”

  He sat across from her. “I know. I’ve only been here once, but this is better than I remember.”

  “Only once?” she teased. “You love their fettuccine?”

  “Yes, it’s the only thing I’ve eaten here.”

  She chortled, keeping her voice low. The sound of violins grew closer as a quartet strolled toward them. “You always make me laugh.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No, actually. It’s good. I used to laugh a lot, but the stress and competition of school kind of choked out my sense of humor.”

  Kavan nodded. She knew he understood. Perhaps it was her imagination, but he seemed to understand everything. He was always so patient and kind.

  The waiter brought their menus. With polish, he recited the evening’s specials. When he’d taken their drink order and gone, Elizabeth leaned toward Kavan and whispered, “I prefer the waitress with the bubble gum.”

  Kavan chuckled. “She did have a certain charm.”

  They ordered, and not long after, the waiter brought the plate of appetizers.

  “Here, try one of these,” Kavan said, dropping a stuffed mushroom onto Elizabeth’s plate.

  She took a bite, her blue gaze steady on Kavan. “Very good. Best stuffed mushroom I’ve ever had.”

  As they ate, their conversation fell into an easy, comfortable rhythm.

  They found they had many ideals and desires in common. Despite their Fourth of July nuclear-versus natural-energy debate, they found common ground in faith, love of life, and a fascination with science.

  “Yeah, but you’re a tree hugger,” Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes.

  “At least I can hug a tree. When was the last time you hugged a nuclear reactor?”

  So, the debate ensued again, but this time with gentleness and respect. When the main course arrived, they’d agreed to disagree.

  “After my master’s, I’ll have more fuel for my fire.” She swirled her fork through her fettuccine.

  Kavan paused his fork in midair, then set it against his plate. “So, have you decided where you want to go?”

  “Whoever asks me first, I’m going.”

  Suddenly, Kavan dropped his fork and stood to his feet. His napkin fluttered to the floor. Gazing down at her, serious and intent, he asked, “Elizabeth Lambert, will you marry me?”

  Nineteen

  He heard the words come out of his mouth, but he couldn’t believe his own ears. Jesus said that, “out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks,” and at that moment, Kavan understood the deep truth of those words.

  Elizabeth stared up at him. Shock masked her face. “What?” she whispered.

  Kavan hesitated, desperate to repeat his question while longing for eloquence.

  The ring. Why didn’t I bring the ring? I didn’t know. . . .

  But the moment felt so right. A thrill shot through him as he dropped to one knee. “Elizabeth Lambert, will you marry me?”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Dead serious. You just said, whoever asked first. I’m asking.”

  She lowered her face to his. “We’ve never even said ‘I love you.’ ”

  Kavan rose from bended knee and sat in the seat next to Elizabeth. He took her hand in his. The food on their plates, shoved to one side, remained untouched. “I know we’ve never said it, but we feel it. At least I do. I love you, Elizabeth. I love you.”

  He could not read her emotions from the expression on her face. “Are you going to say anything?” he said after a long, hot pause.

  “I don’t know what to say. Kavan, I’m going to school. Why did you ask me to marry you?”

  He dropped his gaze and studied the delicate lines of her petite, slender hands. “A wise man once said, ‘He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord.’ You are a good thing, Elizabeth, and I want to share my life with you.”

  She would not look into his eyes. Quietly she said, “Please, can we go?”

  ❧

  Midmorning Monday, Kavan drove to the fire tower, his refurbishment project under way again. He expected to meet with the carpenter later that day and finalize construction plans. The embezzlement accusations had soured Kavan on this project, but he wanted it completed before the winter snows.

  He inspected the tower as he climbed to the top, making notes in his electronic data assistant. Yet, he paused every few steps, his thoughts trapped in the events of Saturday night.

  Elizabeth, oh, Elizabeth, will you ever speak to me again?

  He’d driven her home that evening in awkward silence. Neither knew what to say. Convinced he should not pressure her, he’d left her alone to process her emotions. However, he could not retract his question. Perhaps he’d let the romantic ambience of Italian Hills sweep him away momentarily. Perhaps his timing was all wrong, but in his heart of hearts, Kavan wanted to marry the blue-eyed electrical engineer.

  He didn’t regret the fact that his question would linger on the winds of time for all of eternity. His words still echoed in his mind, along with the story of Cindy Mae’s uncle. Maybe his Elizabeth would not wear the ring, either. Kavan winced. He did not want to go the way of Uncle John.

  With poise and grace, Elizabeth had avoided answering his question. She’d slipped out of his truck with a hushed “good night” and disappeared in the darkness. He waited until the porch light flashed before starting home.

  Immediately, he went to prayer. Lord, what have I done?

  For a split second, he imagined the Lord’s kind smile over him. Well, you told her.

  Kavan smiled as he drove home. Oh yes, like a bull in a china shop.

  He had no idea what his next move should be. Sunday, he stayed home and fellowshipped with the Lord in the serenity of his own home. He thought it would be wise to give Elizabeth some space. Her relationship with the Lord was finally blossoming, and he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable as she worshiped with the rest of the Lord’s saints.

  He enjoyed his Sabbath day, spending the morning in prayer and contemplation, then running Fred and Ginger through the foothills that afternoon.

  Yet, truth be told, his mind never totally disengaged from his longing for Elizabeth. He imagined her sitting next to him in the empty rocker on the back porch, praying with him, talking with him, sharing life with him.

  He imagined picnics with her in the shade of the oaks and maples.

  ❧

  Monday evening, Kavan’s phone rang, shattering the silence of the house.

  Kavan muted the television and reached for the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Kavan, it’s Dad.”

  He sat forward and checked his surprise. “Dad. Hello. How are you?”

  “Fine, Son. July in Miami—can you imagine anything more insane?”

  Kavan chuckled. “No, actually.”

  “Your mother loves it. She’s as brown as a buckeye.”

  “I imagine you’re staying cool in the condo with a pile of good books.”

  Ralph Donovan answered, “Naturally.”

  “So, what’s up?” Momentary concern gripped him. Kavan loved hearing his father’s voice, but the man did not call often. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. But I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Kavan smiled into the phone, tears burning in his eyes. He stalled them by taking a deep breath. He steadied his voice and said, “Things are, um, good.”

  “You’ve been on my mind today.” The brief expression communicated a mountain of words to Kavan. It was his father’s unemotional way of telling him he missed him and cared for him. It was also an indication from his heavenly Father that He also loved him and watched over him.

  “I talked with Alvin the other night,” his father started.

  Kavan pictured his father’s former business partner. “How is he?”

  “Fat and rich. He’
s making more money than ever. I left the business too soon.”

  “It happens.”

  “What’s with you and the Lambert girl?” The question came in traditional Ralph Donovan style, without preamble.

  “How’d you hear about her?”

  “Alvin.”

  Elizabeth is right. This town is obsessed with romance.

  “Nothing is up with the Lambert girl.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Elizabeth.” Knowing what questions would come next, Kavan recited her résumé. “MIT graduate, electrical engineering, 4.0, applying for graduate schools in nuclear engineering.”

  “Sounds like a stellar woman.”

  “She is pretty amazing.”

  “Well, are you marrying her?”

  “No, Dad, I don’t think so.”

  They talked for the better part of an hour, the conversation abating remnants of anxiety and concern over his Saturday actions.

  “Bold move, Son. Never regret a bold move,” Ralph told him.

  Later, as Kavan readied for bed, the sound of his dad’s voice echoed in his head. How did His heavenly Father communicate His love so profoundly through his pragmatic, no-nonsense, earthly father? He considered it a mystery, but a beautiful one.

  Just as he clicked off the light, the phone rang again.

  “Hello?” Kavan said.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  ❧

  Elizabeth sat on her bed, the light of her desk lamp illuminating the room in soft gold light, and debated with herself.

  Should I call him? No, wait for him to call. He started this. Let him finish it. But he deserves an answer. He asked a sincere question.

  Elizabeth glanced at the paper lying on the edge of her desk. Her résumé. Well, what could it hurt to pass it around? She’d heard wonderful things about Creager Electronics and their innovations with robotics.

  “What you got there?” Grandpa appeared in the doorway.

  Elizabeth looked up, setting aside the résumé. “Hi, Grandpa. I thought you and Grandma were playing bridge.”

  “We were, but Grant Hansen wasn’t feeling well, so we cut the evening short.”

  “They’re nice people, aren’t they?” Elizabeth shifted position on her bed so Grandpa could sit on the edge.

  “Fine folks.” He surveyed the room while reaching for the résumé. Tipping his head upward, he read the neat black print through his bifocals. “Looking for work?”

  Elizabeth grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her. “I enjoyed robotics at MIT. I spent a few terms in the artificial intelligence lab. Creager is a leading robotics company.”

  Grandpa stuck out his chin and scratched his head. “What a coincidence,” he said, a lilt in his tone. “Sounds like you got a good plan, Kitten.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Kavan asked me to marry him.”

  As usual, Grandpa took the news in stride. “What did you say?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. She brushed them away with a quick swipe of her fingers. “I told him to take me home.”

  “Falling in love was not the plan for this summer, was it?”

  She shook her head and reached for a tissue, trying to halt the tears. With her eyes fixed on the ceiling, she said, “I’m going to school, Grandpa. I am.”

  “I hate to sound preachy, Beth, but what is God saying to you? You think this transcript error might have been His doing?”

  “No, it was clearly my doing. But I don’t know what’s what anymore except that I’m frustrated.”

  “Sometimes the Lord frustrates our plans to get our attention.” He gently set the résumé back in its place. “I think Kavan is your pregnant wife.”

  Despite the tears, Elizabeth laughed. “You can’t smooth this over with a joke, Grandpa.”

  “I’m confident the Lord’s plans for you are good. I’m confident they include Kavan.”

  “I wish I had your confidence. I’ll feel like a failure if I don’t go to grad school.”

  “I know the feeling. That’s why I packed my bags and trotted off to Harvard. But it was my pride, Bethy. Your success is not in what you do, but in who you are in Jesus. His death on the cross, His resurrection life, and His righteousness define you.”

  “I hear you, Grandpa, and I’m trying to understand that truth more and more. But somehow Jesus dying on the cross doesn’t seem to answer the question of school.”

  “If you are going to school to be considered a success, then you have already failed. Kitten, you are successful because you know Jesus. You realize only ten percent of the world’s population claims Him as their Lord and Savior. Look at you, you’re in the top ten percent of the world.”

  She laughed and tapped him on the arm. “You are making it too easy for me to decide against school.”

  Grandpa nodded and patted Elizabeth’s leg. “Only because I’m speaking what you already know in your heart.”

  Elizabeth bobbed her head in agreement, sighing. “Suddenly, school doesn’t seem to be the right path, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Marry Kavan.”

  She let go a wry chuckle. “The one thing I said I’d never do. . .let my heart rule my head.”

  “Well, that motto has merit,” Grandpa conceded. “But either way you go, your heart is ruling your head. The prideful desire to go to grad school will win. Or the sincere desire to know true love. But sometimes the heart touched by love is privileged to make the choice.”

  “How did you get to be so wise?” Elizabeth asked. She scooted to the end of the bed and stood up. “I’m going down to the bridge to pray.”

  Grandpa stood and drew her into his embrace. “Good idea. Grandma and I will pray for you here.”

  Elizabeth slipped on her sneakers and grabbed her phone.

  The serenity under the bridge always amazed her. It was as if God waited there for her. As soon as she walked under the cover, she sensed His presence.

  Her thoughts and prayers wandered between school and Kavan. The issue did not seem to be a matter of choosing love over education; it seemed more about surrendering her will to God’s.

  Stubborn pride, she thought.

  Leaning against the bridge’s strong beam, Elizabeth uttered the words that finally unlocked her heart. “Lord, forgive my pride. I surrender my plans, my heart, to You.”

  Tears flowed, and doubt began to drain from her as if a big plug had been pulled. She didn’t have to fight to be in control. Her Lord controlled her life, and He loved her. He was her Friend, and His plans for her were perfect.

  Liberty rang through her body. “I’m free to do God’s will, not mine,” she shouted.

  Kavan. She reached for her phone and dialed.

  Her heart throbbed at the sound of his hello.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  ❧

  Kavan sat up in bed and clicked on the lamp. “How are you?”

  He heard a rolling giggle. “I’m fine. Fine. Just fine.”

  He grinned. “Are you sure?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Kavan glanced at the alarm clock. “Where are you?”

  “On the bridge.”

  “At eleven o’clock? Elizabeth, it’s too late to be out alone.” He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair and propped his arms on his knees.

  “Grandpa knows I’m out here.”

  “Wait ’til I see him.”

  Her light chuckle floated from the phone, a melodic sound he loved.

  “I never answered your question,” she said.

  Now his heart pounded like thundering horses, and he dropped the phone’s mouthpiece below his chin, not wanting Elizabeth to hear his labored breathing.

  “Look, Elizabeth,” he said after a moment, his voice steady. “I’m sorry I surprised you with such a life-altering question, but I meant every word I said.”

  “I had no doubt. That didn’t make it any easier.”

  Kavan stretched out his legs
and leaned against a pile of bed pillows. “You can take your time answering.”

  “You know you have some nerve messing with a girl’s heart and mind.”

  Kavan listened. He could tell Elizabeth needed to talk. Half of him dreaded the answer he felt sure would come at the end of her monologue, but he needed to know.

  “I mean, I come up here to spend a quiet summer with Grandpa and Grandma, to work and prepare for grad school. Instead, you have to come waltzing into my life. A redheaded tree hugger!”

  He guffawed. “You think I planned it just to annoy you?”

  “If I didn’t know you better, yes.”

  Low and steady, he responded, “I didn’t intend on falling in love with a nuke advocate who happens to be so beautiful I see her eyes in the night sky instead of the stars.”

  “Oh, Kavan, you aren’t making this any easier.”

  “I love you, Elizabeth. I love you. I hate saying that over the phone, but I love you.”

  The long pause on her end didn’t reassure him.

  Finally, she whispered, “I have an answer.”

  He sat up again, so fast all the blood drained from his face and he saw spots. “Yes?”

  “Can you meet me on the bridge?”

  “When?”

  “Friday night.”

  “That long, eh?”

  “I’m sorry, I need to think and pray. Just to be sure.”

  “Ah, just like a scientist. Analyze everything to death.”

  “You’ll appreciate it later in life.”

  He grinned, feeling as if she were throwing him a bone of hope. “Friday is fine, my friend.”

  “See you then.”

  “What time? Six-thirty?”

  She responded with a mock laugh. “Ha, ha. I have to work until ten. Eleven o’clock?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good night.”

  She hung up before he could respond. But in an instant, Kavan was on his feet, bouncing on the bed, Fred and Ginger barking in time.