by Arlene James
Magnolia promptly marched around the table, took the furry siren from its carrier, and draped it over a delighted Gilli’s lap. The yowl abruptly faded to a purr. Gilli giggled and beamed.
While Magnolia went to rinse her hands, Reeves shook out his daughter’s napkin and spread it over the now contented and apparently paralyzed cat, his gaze finding Anna’s. She shook her head, amazed, but wisely kept her tongue glued to the floor of her mouth. Reeves came to escort her around the table to a chair, pulling it out for her and holding it until she smiled up at him. He went to seat his aunts before returning to take the chair at Anna’s side.
Hypatia scowled and looked to Reeves. “Perhaps you would say the blessing?”
“Of course.” He cleared his throat, and they all bowed their heads. “Most gracious Lord God, we thank You and we praise You for this, Thy bounty, given for the nourishment of our bodies. Most of all, Father, I thank You for each woman around this table, child and adult alike, given, no doubt, for the nourishment of my heart. In the name of Christ Jesus, amen.”
Anna quivered inside. Had he purposefully included her in his prayer of thanksgiving? For the nourishment of his heart? As if. What was he going to say, thanks for everyone but Anna?
Gilli patted the cat under the napkin on her lap, crooning, “You, too, sweetie Special girl.”
Anna thought it as likely that the cat was included in Reeves prayer as her. Oh, no, wait. It was a male.
“Gilli,” Reeves said, as if reading Anna’s thoughts, “that cat really is a boy.”
“I know.” Gilli hunched her shoulders and crooned, “My beautiful boy sweetie.”
Reeves rolled his eyes. Anna covered her mouth. Hypatia looked like she might weep. Magnolia and Odelia, on the other hand, seemed content to dish out soup and pass around the salad. Reeves and Anna shared a smile, then set to enjoying their own lunch.
The meal passed in near silence, as if the purr of the comatose cat draped over Gilli’s lap blocked all conversation. It was perhaps the most physically uncomfortable hour of Anna’s life. She hadn’t worn this dress since the wedding for which she’d bought it, over two years ago, and she had forgotten how the belt cut grooves in the tops of her hips, the stockings itched like steel wool and the heels of her shoes made her feet swell. Plus, if there existed in this world a dish she disliked more than split pea soup, she hadn’t tasted it.
Yet, somehow, she’d never been happier. Or sadder.
After lunch, Anna offered to help clean up, but Reeves could have told her that the aunties would have none of it. They practically chased Reeves, Anna and Gilli from the dining room, along with the cat, of course. He suspected, from the knowing smile that Mags and Od shared, that they were indulging in a bit of matchmaking again, but he let it go. To his surprise, he enjoyed spending time with Anna, and he’d been thinking a lot about that kiss on the stairwell.
As much as he’d tried to tell himself that it had been an impulsive expression of gratitude, he knew better. Oh, it had been impulsive, all right, and gratitude was part of it, but that kiss had been as much about him as her. He didn’t want to be alone. He had never wanted to be alone, and in the deepest well of his soul, he believed that God intended him to marry, despite the mistake he had made with Marissa. If the very idea of a “him and Anna” still boggled his mind, well, at least it was a more open and informed mind than it had been.
He suggested to her that they move to the library in hopes of discussing the dossier of information that he’d given her the last time they’d been there. He truly wanted Anna to be happy, but the most he could do was encourage her to look for another job. Before he could bring up the subject, however, Gilli seized upon the opportunity for a story. Anna took down a picture book, not a child’s book but a nature book of desert photos, finding a surprising picture of a lizard, snake and hare in close proximity. Soon she and Gilli, a purring Special draped over one arm, had spun a fascinating tale of animals that cooperated to find water and shelter from the sun.
Afterward, Gilli screwed up her face and asked, “What is berrow?”
“Burrow,” Anna corrected, reaching for a paper and pen that someone had left on the library table earlier. Quickly, she sketched a picture of a lizard squeezing into a snake’s burrow, explaining as she drew.
“O-o-oh,” Gilli said. Then she wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t want to live in the dirt. And not in the bush, either. That’s where Special had to live, isn’t it, dear baby sugar?” She stroked the cat as she spoke.
While listening to the story then watching Anna sketch, an idea had come to Reeves, one he wanted to explore with Anna, but just then Gilli yawned and duty called.
“Someone needs a nap.”
Gilli immediately put up a howl. He just shook his head at her pleas.
“Can I help tuck you in again?” Anna asked, and that did it.
“Okay,” Gilli conceded glumly.
They all went out and climbed the stairs together. Gilli carried the cat in a chokehold, but Reeves had learned from experience not to tamper with the arrangement. Whenever anyone tried to help her find a seemingly gentler way to handle it, the ridiculous animal hissed and showed its fangs. Reeves had no doubt that it would take off a finger if it sensed that anyone meant to truly separate it from Gilli. Besides, after showing her what would hurt the cat, the vet had said that the animal would teach them how it wanted to be handled. So far, the cat wanted to be handled only by Gilli, and obviously, no matter how awkward it looked, she wasn’t hurting the silly thing. To her, the cat was a person, the dearest and sweetest of all beings, and she was wounded by anyone who suggested otherwise. She spoke to the animal as if she expected it to reply.
“We got to take a nap. Daddy says the world is better from a nap, but I think it’s good without it. Don’t you? Hmm?”
Despite hiding many a grin, they made short work of tucking in Gilli and her cat, which curled up next to her on her pillow and glared at them balefully until they left the room. They were headed back down the stairs when Reeves asked, “The library or the sunroom?”
To his disappointment, Anna grimaced. “I hate to say it, but I need to go. If I don’t change my clothes soon I’ll scream.”
He could understand the sentiment. He felt the same way every evening when he came in from work. Still, it was a shame. She looked awfully good in that dress. And those shoes…Whoa.
“Lunch was interesting, to say the least. Will you thank your aunts for me?”
He put on a polite smile. “Sure. After I walk you to your car.”
They slipped on their coats, and Reeves opened the door. Cold air and bright sunshine slapped them in equal measures. The light angled perfectly to slice beneath the overhang of the porch, which usually provided shade. They walked across the planking on the verandah to the top of the brick steps.
“So what did you think of the sermon?” he asked. He’d been wanting to know all afternoon.
She shrugged, pausing at the very edge of the porch. “I thought it was interesting. Except I didn’t quite get what he meant about peace.” She waved a hand. “The control of the mind…”
“The mind controlled by the Spirit,” Reeves corrected gently.
“Is life and peace,” she finished. “But what does that mean?” The way she said the word peace told him a lot. He gathered his words carefully.
“I know that when I can’t find any peace it’s because I’m not yielded to the control of the Holy Spirit. I just don’t always know how to let go of whatever’s cutting me up.”
“How do you find out?”
Looking down, he admitted, “The hard way, usually.”
She snorted at that. “Doesn’t sound like you.”
“Oh, yes, it does.” Sighing, he looked her straight in the face. “Sometimes I think I do everything the hard way.”
She shook her head, refusing to believe it, and that pleased him so much that he smiled and said, “Lately, though, it seems to have gotten a little easier.
I seem to have acquired some wisdom from somewhere.”
She considered then nodded. “I can see how your aunts might contribute to that.”
He looked back at her in surprise. “True. But I was talking about you.”
“Me?” She laughed as if it was a joke.
He spread his hands. “Anna, I’ve learned more about parenting my daughter from you than anyone else, ever.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why, that can’t be!”
“You’ve helped me understand how she thinks,” he insisted, tapping his temple with his forefinger. “That’s helped me change how I deal with her. What I wouldn’t give to be able to read her as easily as you do.”
“The only thing I do easily is make mistakes!” Anna exclaimed.
A bark of laughter escaped him. “Then that makes two of us. Though I suspect it’s a universal problem.”
“Why is it so easy to mess up and so hard to get things right?” she wondered.
“I don’t know,” Reeves told her, “but I suspect it has to do with what the pastor was talking about this morning. We don’t keep our minds on the things of God as much as we should. Instead, we dwell on everything that can and has gone wrong, everything we can’t do or mess up ourselves.” Wow. Was he talking to her or himself?
Acknowledging his words with a pensive nod, she stepped down onto the brick. Aware that she was thinking over what he’d said, he took her by the elbow and led her down the remaining steps to the walkway.
“I think you’re right,” she said, “and I think that was exactly the message I needed to hear this morning.”
“Funny,” he said, “I was thinking the same thing about myself.” They stepped onto the gravel, and he dropped his hand.
When she looked up, he expected another question. Instead, she said, “Thank you for the invitation to lunch.”
“You’re welcome.” An idea popped into his head, and before he could even think it through, it was coming out of his mouth. “Say, why don’t you come for a run with me in the morning?”
He hadn’t known her eyes could go that wide. “Running? In the morning?”
“Yeah, I’ve started running in the morning rather than the evening so I can spend more time with Gilli.” And not only was his daughter happy about it, his stress level at work had dropped precipitately.
“Oh. Um…well, what time?”
“Sixish?”
“S-s-s—” She coughed behind her fist. “Six.” Nodding, she smiled. “In the morning?”
Delighted, he grinned and followed her around the car, telling her where to meet him in Buffalo Creek’s expansive Chataugua Park.
“Maybe we can talk after,” he suggested.
“About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The database, if you’ve had a chance to look it over. I’ve got an idea I’d like to run by you, too.”
“A-all right,” she said, letting herself into her car. Smiling, she started up the battered little coupe and pulled away.
Pleased, Reeves waved farewell, but as he jogged back up the steps and into the house, the hard truth of Anna’s earlier words came back to him.
The only thing I do easily is make mistakes.
Man, could he ever relate to that.
Maybe he was making a mistake right now, with her.
Or maybe it was time that he took this morning’s sermon to heart, kept his mind on the things of God and allowed the Spirit to take control, for wherever God led was the right path. Suddenly he realized that his fears, doubts, assumptions and self-protective limits were just so much minutiae that he’d allowed to crowd out the things of God. No wonder he’d lost his way!
Lead me, O Lord, he thought, and where You lead, I will follow. I want the kind of life that You want me to have. I won’t try to make it happen myself this time, and I won’t let the mistakes that I’ve made in the past hold me back from Your will. In Christ I am forgiven, and in Him I will do better, for myself, for Gilli. And for Anna.
The database? Anna thought. He wanted to talk about that jam-packed folder of information he’d given her? After they went running at six o’clock in the blooming morning! Anna could not believe what she’d just agreed to. She couldn’t get herself to work by eight, let alone haul her lazy behind out to a park by six a.m.!
“Say, why don’t you come for a run with me in the morning?” she mimicked, sitting at a stop sign at the intersection of Chatam Boulevard and Main. She threw up her hands. “Sure! What time?” Banging her head on the steering wheel, she groaned. “Just kill me now.”
The driver in the car behind her beeped his horn. She stomped the accelerator and winced as pain shot through her foot. That, she suspected, would soon be nothing by comparison. In the morning when she collapsed in an aching heap on the ground, Reeves would be all too aware that she was not who he evidently thought her to be.
She was nothing like him. Not only was she no spiritual giant, she couldn’t run a business, couldn’t run a relationship, couldn’t run her own life, couldn’t run, period. Maybe she could identify with Gilli, but that just made her the equivalent of a three-year-old! If she had a real brain in her head, she’d feign illness and beg off their running date before bedtime. Instead, she changed her clothes and went to buy running shoes. Then, in order to stay out of Tansy’s way, she took the “dossier” to the coffee house and went through it line by line, cramming as if Reeves was going to give her an oral exam on the morrow.
Hours later, her brain clogged with data, Anna treated herself to a hearty dinner. Afterward she went straight home to bed, where she replayed over and over everything that had been said, done and read throughout the entire day, from standing before her mirror that morning until she’d crawled between the sheets. Oddly, the thing that she kept circling back around to was that morning’s sermon.
“The work of Christ on the cross set us free from the law of sin and death,” the pastor had said. “That law demands sacrifice for sin, and should we die in our sin, without the cleansing of sacrifice, the law condemns us to true death, an eternity separated from God.”
Jesus had made Himself the sacrifice, the pastor had explained. Perfect and without sin, He sacrificed His earthly body and life, once and for all, rising again to ascend into heaven and His rightful place.
“Do you want life?” the preacher had asked. “Accept the Lord’s sacrifice.”
That part Anna understood, but she’d never thought about what the preacher had said later.
“Fix your mind on Christ Jesus and keep it there. Learn everything He has to teach you through His word. Dwell in His Spirit so that when difficult times come you have the strength and the certainty to face them.”
She remembered Reeves saying that he didn’t always know how to let go of whatever was cutting him up. He’d termed it as not being yielded to the Holy Spirit. She wondered just what he meant by that. Did it have to do with fixing one’s mind on Jesus?
She lay upon her bed and prayed as she had never prayed before, almost as if in conversation with her Lord. Her last thought as she finally slid into unconsciousness was that for the first time she didn’t feel alone.
The alarm started going off at five. At half past, Anna finally hauled herself out of bed. After scrambling into her running gear, she hurried out to the car. Ten minutes later she stood within the inky shade of an immense hickory tree and watched Reeves stretch beneath the watery light of a vapor lamp perched high atop a pole beside a bench. The jogging track snaked through the trees and over the bridge that crossed the rambling creek that gave the town its name. He was already sweaty, his caramel-streaked nut brown hair darkened by perspiration, which meant that he’d been running for some time before she’d even gotten there.
“Oh, you are so out of your league,” she told herself. “You’re going to wind up in the emergency room.” She wondered how many coronaries this track produced every year and deemed it a good thing that the hospital had been built nearby. Reeves straightened and waved. It was too l
ate to rethink, so she picked up her feet, joining him just heartbeats later.
“Good morning,” he called as she drew near.
“Morning.”
A fellow with a big belly huffed by them. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one out here freezing her toes off and courting a heart attack.
“Cold?” Reeves asked, and just the word spoken aloud made her shudder.
“Uh-huh.”
“Let’s get you warmed up then.” He led her over to the bench. “Have you done this before?”
“Sure. About a decade ago in gym class. Whenever I couldn’t get out of it.”
Reeves chuckled. “Put your foot up on the seat and lean forward, keeping everything else straight.”
She did as instructed. “Like this?”
“Looks right.” He went down on his haunches and squeezed her calf. She nearly jumped over the bench. “Again,” he ordered.
Her face flaming, she did as told until he decided that she’d properly loosened up her muscles. Surprisingly, she already felt warmer.
“Now what?”
“Now we walk,” he answered, nodding toward the narrow track.
Anna brightened immediately. Walking she could manage.
The track was just wide enough for them to walk side by side, their shoulders occasionally touching. He asked how her evening had gone. She shrugged and said that she’d spent it at the coffee shop then blathered on about how it was one of her favorite places and what her favorite drinks were and her favorite muffins, even her favorite barista, for pity’s sake.
“She can make a perfect flower right in the center of the cup with the cream. Says she learned it in Seattle.”
“Imagine that,” Reeves replied with a grin. “Let’s pick up the pace a bit.”
Two minutes later, they were jogging and five minutes after that running. Reeves had the most fluid gait. It was impossible to stay even with their arms pumping in time to their strides, so she naturally fell back a bit, all the better to enjoy the show. The man’s head stayed level while he ran, his long paces steady and gliding. She tried to match him stride for stride and found, to her surprise, that she could manage. For a time. And then she couldn’t. Suddenly, without warning, she could no longer keep up. Just a minute or so later, she could no longer even breathe.
