Red, White and Blue Weddings: Red Like Crimson, White as Snow, Out of the Blue

by Janice Thompson

  “Oh! It’s nine thirty. We’ve got to get you home to bed.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” Lorelei argued.

  Adrianne stood, as if in response. “Sure you’re not.”

  Chris stood alongside her, painfully aware of the fact that their time together was drawing to a close. In minutes, she would drop him off at the hotel and they would part ways.

  For how long, he had no way of knowing.

  ❧

  Adrianne gripped the steering wheel as they pulled away from the Dairy Queen. “Did you have a good time?” She glanced over at Chris, who nodded. She wondered at his silence over the past few minutes.

  “I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” He turned to look at her, and even in the darkness, she noted the tremor in his voice. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Do you have to leave?” Lorelei piped up from the back seat. “I want you to stay. Forever.”

  “Forever is a mighty long time.” Adrianne tried to make light of the situation, but inside her heart was breaking. If Chris really boarded the plane the next morning, she didn’t know what she would do.

  Their conversation shifted a bit as they took turns talking about the day. Finally, when Adrianne was convinced her daughter had drifted off to sleep, she whispered a somber, “We need to talk,” Chris’s way.

  “I know.” His response, equally as soft, was accompanied by the touch of his hand brushing against her cheek.

  She leaned against his hand and tried to still her heart. What in the world would she do without him, now that they’d found one another again?

  And yet he had to go. He must return to his work on the mission field. Adrianne knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she could never ask him to give it up, not after seeing the gleam in his eye as he talked to Pastor Jake about it. No, he must return to Nicaragua, and she must return to her life—as a single mother.

  For a few minutes, she didn’t speak. The lump in her throat wouldn’t allow it. Finally, Chris broke the silence. “W–what are we going to do, Adrianne?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Lorelei was genuinely asleep before answering. “We’ll. . .we’ll work out a plan. You’ll have to come back as often as you can. . . .”

  “As often as I can?” The pain in his voice drove a stake through her heart, but she forged ahead.

  “Yes. Whenever you’re in the States, you’ll have to come see us.”

  “And. . .that’s it?”

  She kept her focus on the road and willed herself not to cry. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything. And you’re welcome to be with us. . . .” Here her voice lowered. “With Lorelei. . .as often as you’re able.”

  “And then?”

  “I think she needs time to get to know you, and to get used to the idea that you’re really her. . .” She mouthed the word father. Adrianne pushed back the lump in her throat. “And we both need time to pray and ask the Lord to show us what to do, right?”

  “I’m going to do the right thing by both of you.” He spoke firmly. “Financially, I mean. And in whatever other ways the Lord shows me. I need you to know that.”

  “You’re a good man, Chris.” She paused. “I—I know you’re passionate about your work.” Another pause gave her long enough to dab at her eyes and force down the lump in her throat. “We’ve just got to figure out how to balance the jungles of Nicaragua with historic Philadelphia, that’s all.”

  “I don’t know.” He leaned his head back against the seat and sighed. “I know you love your work at the museum. It’s obvious. You’re amazing at what you do,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.

  “So are you.” She whispered the words, realizing all too well what she was saying. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, they were living in two very different worlds, going in two very different directions.

  A painful silence filled the car as he released his gentle hold on her arm. The gesture seemed to speak volumes. As much as she hated to admit it, a separation of sorts had taken place. A wall had been erected, and it didn’t appear to be coming down anytime soon.

  With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the road.

  SIXTEEN

  “Mom, where is Chris again?” Lorelei asked.

  Adrianne looked up from underneath the bed where she’d been searching for her shoe. “I told you the last three times. . . .” A groan escaped her lips. “He had to go back to Virginia Beach. He’s probably headed to the airport right now.”

  “Virginia Beach? How far is Virginia Beach?”

  “Not close.” Adrianne pushed back the lump in her throat and avoided her daughter’s penetrating gaze. “Besides, I think he leaves for Nicaragua sometime later in the week. He was only here on a short furlough.” She turned her attention back to looking for the missing pump.

  “Furlough? What’s that?”

  “It’s when a missionary comes home from the mission field for a short season. But he has to go back to Nicaragua.” She spoke as much to convince herself as anything. “That’s what missionaries do. They have to go wherever they feel the Lord is leading them.”

  Lorelei stepped closer, her voice trembling as she spoke. “But, Mom, I miss him. Can’t the Lord lead him here?”

  Well said, well said.

  “I suppose that could happen, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “Isn’t he coming back at all?”

  Adrianne stuck her head under the bed once more in an attempt to reach the wayward shoe. Finally snagging it, she rose to her knees and stared at her persistent daughter. “I’m sure he’ll be back sometime, but I couldn’t say when.”

  “But, Mom,”—Lorelei sat on the edge of the bed, tears coming to her eyes—“I wanted you to marry Chris. How can you marry him if he’s in Nicaragua?”

  Once again, Adrianne looked away as she spoke, focusing on the shoe, not the child. “What’s your hurry to get me married off?” she asked finally.

  Lorelei lifted her chin, defiant. “I want to have a dad. Someone to drive me to school every day. And come to my ballet recitals.”

  “I walk you to the bus stop every day. And you don’t even take ballet.”

  “I would. If I had a dad.”

  Adrianne felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but quickly forced them away. Lorelei only wanted what every little girl wanted. She contemplated her next words as she slipped on her shoe. “Sometime soon we’re going to have a long talk about all that.”

  “We are?” Lorelei’s brow wrinkled, as she looked her way.

  “Yes.” I think it’s about time you knew the truth. But this isn’t the right time. Adrianne glanced at her watch. “Oh no, not again. You’re going to miss the bus if we don’t hurry up.”

  They donned their jackets and reached for Lorelei’s schoolbooks, then raced out of the apartment. No sooner did they arrive at the corner than the school bus pulled up.

  “Have a great day, baby.” Adrianne kissed Lorelei on the cheek.

  “I love you, Mom.” Lorelei climbed aboard the bus, then looked back with a wave as it pulled away.

  Adrianne caved the moment her daughter disappeared from sight. For once, she didn’t even try to hold back the tears. Her heart felt completely broken. She longed to see Chris again, to tell him how much she loved him. Needed him. But how? With his heart in Nicaragua, and hers in Philadelphia, they seemed destined to remain apart forever.

  The tears continued to flow as she made her way to the car and then on to the museum. All along the way, she thought about her situation. She examined it from every conceivable angle. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a workable solution.

  ❧

  Chris boarded the small commuter plane with a heavy heart. He glanced down at his e-ticket as he shuffled through the crowd of people.

  Twenty-two E. Oh, great. A middle seat again.

  Moments later he found himself seated between a rather large gentleman in the aisle seat and a young girl, probably six or seven, in
the window seat.

  Not that he had time or energy to focus on others at the moment. His thoughts kept gravitating to Adrianne and Lorelei. What am I doing on this plane? The thought rolled around and around in his brain. Why in the world don’t I just get off of here and tell her how I really feel? “How do I really feel?”

  “Excuse me?” The flight attendant gave him a quizzical look as she passed by. “Aren’t you feeling well, sir?”

  “Oh, I. . .” He looked up and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  She went on by, and the pilot’s voice came on with their flight information. Chris scarcely heard a word. He spent the next several minutes, thinking through everything that had happened over the past few days. In less than a week, his entire life had changed. But how did he feel about all he had learned, really?

  Hmm. With the plane now taxiing down the runway, he paused to think, really think, about his heart, his feelings. His love for Adrianne was undeniable. And yet, she hadn’t been completely honest with him from the beginning, had she? On the other hand, she had tried to reach him on several occasions over the years. Surely she needed his forgiveness as much as they both needed the Lord’s.

  And what about Lorelei? Clearly, the youngster adored him. But then again, she didn’t know the truth about their relationship either, did she? Would she still love him, once she realized he was her “absent” father—the one she’d done without all these years?

  Chris leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. A silent prayer went up—a please-show-me-what-to- do-Lord prayer. He prayed for Adrianne, for her provision, her peace of mind, for direction. He then shifted his attention to Lorelei, praying at length for her well-being, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

  Finally, Chris began to pray about the decision he now faced. Lord, I know You have all of this figured out, but I feel like I’m being torn in two. Half of me wants to be in Nicaragua. Half of me wants to be in Philadelphia.

  Even as he prayed, the image of Lorelei’s face flashed before him. He remembered, all too clearly, the look in her eyes as he spun her around the dance floor of the ballroom at the Ben. Was it just two nights ago? Seemed like an eternity. But the image, now fresh in his mind, suddenly reignited his desire to play the role of father.

  Just as quickly, Chris saw the faces of all the children he had ministered to in the villages of Nicaragua. After years of mentoring countless boys and girls, he had become a spiritual father to many. How could he leave them now? And who would take his place, if he opted to leave?

  With his mind twisted up in knots, Chris turned his thoughts back to prayer. He clamped his eyes shut and dove back into a silent debate with the Almighty.

  A few seconds later, a gentle voice from his right roused him from his catatonic state.

  “Are you scared?”

  Chris looked over at the little girl in the window seat. Her wide blue eyes riveted on his.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “Are you scared of flying?”

  “Oh. No.” He offered up a weak smile. “No, I’m not scared.”

  “You looked scared.” She flashed a broad smile, then pointed out the window. “But see? We’re already up in the air. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  “We are, aren’t we?” He glanced out of the window and then turned his attention back to the little girl once again. Was she all by herself? Traveling alone at such a young age?

  As if reading his mind, she chattered away, answering all of his questions before they were even voiced. Her name was Hannah. She was traveling to Norfolk to see her father for a few days. She and her mother lived in Perkasie, about an hour and a half north of Philly. She had never flown alone before, but needed to get used to it, now that her parents were divorced.

  Whoa.

  As she rambled on and on, Chris let his thoughts drift. Lord, I don’t want this to happen to Lorelei. I don’t want her boarding planes alone, flying halfway across the world just to see a father she barely knows. I want her to know me. I want to know her.

  Just after the pilot’s voice came on, informing the passengers of a rocky flight ahead, Chris closed his eyes once more in an attempt to sleep. As the plane began to tremor, Hannah grabbed his arm, rousing him from his near-slumber.

  “Do you think there’s a God?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Do you think there’s a God?” Hannah’s voice grew more serious as she gazed out the window at the clouds.

  “I do.” The plane continued to vibrate and her grip on his arm intensified.

  “Do you think He lives out there?” She let loose long enough to point out to the darkened clouds.

  “Actually. . .” Chris smiled, as he pondered his response. “I think He lives in here.” He pointed to his heart and Hannah looked over at him in curiosity.

  “Huh?”

  As the plane rocked and tipped, Chris took the opportunity to explain, in childlike terms, the full plan of salvation. Hannah’s eyes widened as he told her about Jesus and His sacrifice on the cross. She smiled broadly when he explained that she could ask Him to live in her heart. And she even whispered a soft prayer to do just that—right there in the window seat.

  As the bumpy ride settled down, the youngster turned back to look at the clouds once again. Before long, she drifted off to sleep. Chris closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat once more, finally ready to relax.

  “Do you really believe all that stuff?”

  This time the voice came from his left. Chris opened his eyes and gazed into the somber face of the man in the aisle seat.

  “Excuse me?”

  The portly fellow closed his magazine and stuffed it in the back of the seat in front of him. “All that stuff you were spouting. You believe that?”

  Chris swallowed hard before answering, not wanting a confrontation, particularly in front of the sleeping child. Still, he needed to address the question at hand. “I do,” he said finally.

  “Then you’re a fool.” The man tilted his seat back and closed both his eyes and his mouth, as if that settled the whole thing.

  An invitation to spar, perhaps? “What do you mean?”

  The fellow gave him a sideways glance, sort of an I’m-not-sure-you’d-really-get-it look. “I used to believe all that stuff about God,” he explained. “About forgiveness. Before. . .” He shook his head, the already-deep wrinkles in his forehead deepening further still.

  “Before what?”

  The fellow looked over to make sure Hannah was asleep before responding. “Before my wife died of cancer.”

  Ah. Handle delicately, Chris.

  He spent the next few minutes ministering to the man, speaking softly, and asking the Holy Spirit to guide every word. He deliberately chose not to slip into preach mode—even when the man, who introduced himself as Pete, got defensive. Chris simply did what he often found himself doing on the mission field; he met the man right where he was.

  By the time the plane landed, Pete had opened up, sharing a few of his hurts, his pains. He confessed his anger with God, and his frustration with the doctors involved in his wife’s care. He talked about his strained relationship with his grown children, how the whole family had grown apart since their mother’s death.

  Something interesting happened as the conversation drew to a close. Chris found himself sharing words of love, not as a missionary, but just as a friend. And the Spirit of the Lord rocked him to the core with an interesting new thought as he exited the plane behind his new friend.

  “Don’t you see, son?” The Lord whispered softly to his heart. “The mission field is everywhere— everywhere you happen to be. I can use you wherever you go, whether it’s in the fields of Nicaragua or on an airplane. It’s a ready heart I’m looking for. That’s all.”

  Funny. Just knowing that suddenly put a lot of things in perspective.

  SEVENTEEN

  Adrianne stayed as busy as she could in the days following Chris’s departure. The upcom
ing fundraiser dinner proved to be the perfect distraction. She and Dani worked together day in and day out, settling last-minute issues with the caterer and working alongside the party planner they’d hired to transform the lobby of the museum into a lovely banquet room.

  Joey stayed close by, offering both humor and a helping hand. He proved to be a nice distraction, too, always giving her something to laugh about.

  Still, in the quiet moments, when no one else was around, her heart ached for Chris. Many times during the day she would find herself wondering where he was, what he was doing. And why he hadn’t called.

  Frustrated, she forced her attention to the task at hand. Mr. Martinson was counting on her. The museumgoers were counting on her. She wouldn’t let them down.

  The following Friday night, Adrianne donned the same beautiful dress she’d worn to the rehearsal dinner and prepared to leave for the banquet. She found her nerves in quite a state—in part, because so much rode on tonight’s event, and in part, because she hadn’t heard from Chris in more than a week.

  Maybe I’ll never hear from him. Maybe he’ll turn out to be a deadbeat dad, like so many others.

  As she prepared to leave the house, her cell phone rang. She answered it with some degree of impatience.

  “Ms. Russo?” The familiar voice greeted her. “James Kenner here.”

  Ah. “Mr. Kenner. Has something happened?”

  “Oh no. Nothing like that. I was just wondering. . . .” His voice changed from businesslike to familiar in a flash. “I was just wondering if you might like a ride to the museum.”

  “Oh.” She stumbled a bit through the rest. “I—I don’t think that’s necessary. See, I have to drop off my daughter at my mom’s house, and I couldn’t expect you to do that. It’s not even on the way.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “W-what?”

  “There are some things I’d like to talk over before we get to the dinner—things having to do with the implementation of the grant money. Sorry to have to bore you with business, especially on a night like tonight, but this is important.”