Focused

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  She tapped her nails on the steering wheel. Bud was so easy to talk to. Jeff used to be as well. Maybe she’d become the one to clam up. Lately she’d had these inward tirades which she never let out in the open. She hadn’t been letting any of the good thoughts out either. Regret crept into her tear ducts. She blinked it away and changed the subject in her mind.

  What had Father Rick’s second challenge been? Oh yes. To be expectant. To believe God did all things for the good. To be like a child at Christmas anticipating the presents. . . Or was it presence? She smiled. One of her favorite hymns was “Surely the Presence of the Lord is in This Place”. They often sung it at St. Martin’s during Eucharist. She started to hum the tune, then stopped.

  Oh. Now I see. I drove three hours to find you on a rock stoop, God. But You’ve been by me all along, haven’t You? Your presence is anywhere I need it to be.

  Just then, a car pulled in front of her into her lane so another could whiz by them to the left, going well over the limit. It had a bumper sticker, rather faded, but still readable.

  “If you think God is not in your life - Guess who moved?”

  She had to pull over. That was too surreal. She dialed Jeff’s work number.

  “Jeff Willis.” His words sounded strained.

  “Hi. It’s me. I’m on the road. I had breakfast first. Mrs. Owens made eggs, sausage gravy and biscuits. We had a nice talk. Anyway, I’m headed home.” She took a breath and swallowed.

  “Right.”

  His tone of voice had not improved. She hardly could blame him. Still, there was something else in his voice she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

  “Jeff? You sound… strange.”

  “I’m okay. Just got a heck of a headache. Sinus. Was there anything else you wanted to say?” He sniffed and swallowed hard, followed by a shallow cough.

  She caught the harried tone. He was too busy. Trying not to let it sting her, she said “Not over the cell. Later when I see you, Okay? Hold on.”

  A high-pitched grind grew increasingly louder and then a whoosh rattled her car. “Dang that eighteen-wheeler was loud. He nearly pushed me off the road, he went by so fast.”

  “I heard it.”

  “Look, I just called to let you know I was on my way back. I’ll explain later once I’ve sorted it all out.”

  There was no response. Only silence and the whir of the traffic whipping by her other ear like a hive of irritated bees. “Jeff?” For a moment she thought she’d lost the signal.

  “I’m here.” His voice softened. “I always will be, hon.”

  Christina remembered the third point to the sermon. Forbearance.

  “I know. I do love you Jeff. And I’m sorry I’ve been such a …you know.”

  “Yeah. I know. Maybe I have, too.” She heard the creak of his desk chair as he repositioned his body. His throat cleared. “I’ve sorted some stuff out, too, while you were away. We’ll discuss it all tonight. Got a bid proposal in thirty minutes.”

  “Good luck. Bye, hon.”

  His business tone of voice returned. “Drive safe. Oh, and call your son. Bye.”

  She sighed and clicked off her phone. Short, sweet, to the point, non-emotional, don’t waste my time. That’s my Jeff.

  Chapter 22 Off the Hook

  Christina got back in her lane and up to speed with the other travelers experiencing Texas at seventy miles per hour. She flicked on the satellite radio again. Suddenly she heard an old song she hadn’t listened to in at least ten years, “My Father’s Eyes” by Amy Grant. It told of how the singer wanted to see the world through God’s eyes, not her own.

  “Okay, Lord. I think I got it,” she said out loud to the upholstered inside of her car’s top.

  She accepted the holy remedy for her outlook. With her new glasses she had better sight. With her Hill Country revelation she had better insight.

  She could now see people a little more the way God sees them, as people worth cherishing. Faulty, stumbling sinners, just like her, but all with a potential in them if you knew where to look — inside their hearts. Everyone sought a purpose to life and a loving God who cared and made sense of it all. It’s easy to see Him in a stranger. But in a person you see day in and day out and know where all their moles are . . . well, that was harder. And yourself? Well, that was the hardest of all.

  She didn’t want Pollyanna-like, rose-colored lenses anymore to mask her world, as if all was hunky dory and status quo. She needed her Father’s eyes to see clearly the world as it is, yet filtered by love for the potential it held and forgiveness for the shortcomings. And, that meant altering the way she saw Jeff, and Josh, Bud, her friends. . .and herself.

  To God, and to herself, she made a vow. No more worrying what everyone else saw. No more goldfish bowl mentality. From now one, she’d be too busy doing what she was supposed to, going about God’s business. There would be no time to worry about what others saw in her. Maybe, they’d just see Him.

  Her pep talk broke when she noticed flashing lights inching closer in her rearview mirror. Wasn’t for her. She had the cruise control on. Christina switched lanes so the state trooper’s vehicle could safely pass. She said a quick prayer, hoping wherever he was headed and for whatever reason, it wasn’t too bad. Maybe he was after that eighteen wheeler which dashed by so fast. Maybe she should veg out a while and stop thinking so much. She noticed the little needle edging towards the “E”. Maybe, Christina, it would be a good idea to stop up ahead, use the facilities, gas up and get a Diet Coke.

  She pulled into a roadside station. Though its sign was chipped and faded, no hose ding-dinged when a car ran over it. Whatever happened to the real stations where servicemen dashed out rags in hand ready to be of service? Wasn’t that why they were called Service Stations? Or were they called just Gas Stations now? Texans did hang on to old terms.

  She giggled at the sign above the door. Gas N’ Git. Underneath it sprawled a poster announcing chilidogs for only a dollar twenty-nine. From the anticipated gastric distress she’d get if she devoured one of them, the convenience store’s name seemed appropriate. The pun transported her thoughts back to one of the few real vacations her family had taken. It was to New York and Washington D.C. Christina was thirteen at the time.

  “I just can’t believe all these people,” her mother had said, jostled by the crowds all heading their own direction with speedy determination. “How rude. Excuse me. Please.” She had to speak at each one that went by. That was the Texan thing to do. The looks she received in reply resembled the expressions of criminals on the wanted posters in the Post Office.

  “Anyone would be nuts to live here with millions of other folks.” Carrie grumbled. She hadn’t liked going on this trip. She was missing the pool party of the century at Becky’s house.

  Her father stopped in his tracks and began to laugh. He pointed at the coffee shop across the street on the corner called Chock Full of Nuts.

  “Yep, even they think they are.” The Texan tourists looked at the line to get in the coffee shop wind around the corner. The coffee shop was chock-full alright. Not used to big Eastern city hustle and bustle, surrounds and sounds, and swarms of shoulder to shoulder people, the frazzled family burst into laughter, causing even more alienating looks.

  Now that coffee was sold in bags at her local grocery store in the gourmet section. Well, it was really only one half of one aisle—hardly a section as the sign above it claimed. Another example of small town trying to imitate big city. But, the memory gave her an idea. Maybe she and Jeff should get away for a vacation for their twenty-fifth. A real one. They had never traveled, unless it was to visit a distant relative, go to a wedding or a funeral.

  After getting her car’s tank refueled, and hers emptied, she sat on the hood of her car in the parking lot sipping on a cold Diet Coke. She still had plenty of time and she suddenly felt tired. Drained was more like it. She bopped herself in the head, thinking of the pun, considering she had just noticed a piece of toilet tissue stuck
on her left heel. Punning was contagious. Once your mind started, it was hard to stop. Her father had been a master of it.

  What had she been thinking about? New York? Nuts? Vacation? She wandered to the picnic area on the side of the station. Suddenly like slides from an old projector, her family, her life and her friends appeared lit in front of her mind, one after another. Christina saw the good in them, the reasons they were special. She sipped her drink and watched the traffic whiz by her too fast to notice the peaceful smile on her face.

  The trees in the field surrounding the picnic area began to sway as a welcomed breeze blew through them. She could see every leaf gleaming in the sun, the breeze making them sparkle as if they were glittered. Gosh, these new glasses make everything so much clearer. Oh, well, can’t sit here all day. She sighed, walked to her car and clicked the keyless entry button. Putting the rest of her drink in the holder, she buckled up, checked the rearview mirror and started the ignition. Then the voice of her husband played again in her head. “Call your son.”

  The dash said 11:17 a.m. He’d be awake. But, does he have class? She racked her brain for his schedule. What was today, anyway? She plugged her cell into the car jack, flipped it open and punched J. His cell number gleamed back at her. She punched the send button.

  “ ‘Lo?” A groggy grumble answered.

  “Josh. Hi, it’s Mom.” Sound cheery, all’s okay.

  “Where are you?” He yawned and made a stretching noise.

  “On 290, heading back from the cabin.”

  “The cabin!” The male tone raised two octaves. “Mom, there was a flood.”

  “Yeah, hon. I know. I was there. But, I’m fine. The place looks really bad, though. I think next summer we all should…”

  “I called you. Twice.” Anger and hurt mingled in his response.

  Yep, he’s awake now. “You can’t get good reception up there, especially when it’s stormy. Sorry.”

  “Yeah, well next time, let me know when you go off on a whim. I was worried sick.”

  The disciplinary tone of his voice amused her. “Josh?” She laughed. “Did you just hear yourself?”

  “Yeah. Weird, huh. I sound like you.” An embarrassed snort. Then his throat cleared. Now he sounded like his dad. Same sinuses. Same mannerisms.

  “Being an adult means worrying about those you love.”

  She heard him groan and stretch. His bed springs did the same.

  “Does this begin a lecture?” His voice sounded impatient.

  “Not at all, if you won’t give me one. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She smiled into her cell phone now warm against her cheek. Matched her mood. “Love ya. Guess we both need to get to work, huh?”

  “Yeah, guess so. Glad you called. Bye Mom. Talk soon.”

  Her boy, all grown up, clicked off.

  Pulling out of the station, Christina continued on her trek back to her reality. About 50 miles down the road, she slowed when she saw the taillights ahead. Back to the traffic was more like it. Welcome home to humanity.

  Christina exited off the highway and turned onto the less congested feeder lane, a trick she had learned long ago in her daily commutes. A bit of exhilaration always inched unto her shoulders as she threw them back and watched her fellow citizens crammed in like sheep on the highway beside her. For once, being different and not following the crowd was a good thing. She vowed to do it more often, not just on the highway. She remembered Robert Frost’s poem she’d memorized in sixth grade, The Road Less Traveled. “… I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.”

  She really should make an appearance at work. But in wrinkled day-old clothes? Maybe she should just blow the rest of the day. But Christina knew better. Instead, she should stop off at the German bakery a few exits further and get Kolaches for everyone. Her mouth watered at the thought of the soft dough rolls with fruit jam centers.

  Why was she even thinking about food after Dorothy’s humongous breakfast? The clock on her dash now said 12:15. Oh. Maybe that’s why.

  Kolaches it would be, and apologies all around. The people she worked with were great people. No one backstabbed or gossiped. Mr. Caruthers respected each of them and the part they played in his steadily growing company. Most of them had worked there at least ten years, except Casey and Shermika who were each hired to help handle the load increase over the past few years.

  And maybe I’ll buy some specialty tea or coffee, too. She admitted to herself the gesture would be mostly out of gratitude, but a little out of guilt for playing hooky and leaving them in the lurch so close to April 15th.

  But, the Old Christina tried to rationalize, that’s why they had a Personal Time Off policy, so an employee could take off when they needed to. Yesterday morning, she justified, she needed to take off or she might have blown a fuse. The flood had been out of her control. No one could blame her for that.

  Then, the Christina with a newly focused attitude kicked in. She called Sandy from her cell phone. “Listen, I apologize if I’ve been short with you or anyone else at work lately.”

  Sandy said, “Don’t even think a thing like that,” adding, “The way we all have to work, and keep a house and a family, it’s a miracle we are not all in the loony bin.”

  “I guess so. Is it nuts there?” Chock full of nuts, she thought with a grin.

  “Nah, we’re good.”

  “I know that.” She punned, again. They were used to it at the office.

  Sandy laughed. “Here’s Angela.”

  “Hey, are you okay? Jeff called and left a message,” her friend and coworker’s voice boomed.

  “He did? Good. I asked him, too. An old friend was in trouble and needed me up near our summer place. It started pouring and then the flood came. I was stranded.” Well, it’s mostly true.

  “Are you on the road? There’s a lot of background noise,” Angela’s voice boomed again.

  “Yeah. I’m on my way into work,” Christina raised her voice as well. “Thing is I’m in crumpled clothes and no hose.”

  Angela laughed. “Then you’ve got to come in. No one will believe it if I tell them you aren’t wearing hose.”

  “Or have any makeup on?”

  “Oh. That would be too much a drastic change. Everyone would keel over from shock. Call me when you are pulling in. I’ll meet you in the Ladies and you can borrow some.” After a few more minutes of discussing trivial events in the office, they clicked off.

  Next door to the Czech Bakery was a small boutique. It had a cute blouse in the window. She hesitated. Nah. The cat was already out of the bag. Besides, she’d spent enough on her new glasses. Arriving crumpled it would be.

  A little after 2p.m., she texted Angela’s cell as she pulled into the parking lot behind her office complex. True to her word, Angela waited in the Ladies’ Room with her bag of makeup and a curling iron.

  “Good God. Look what the cat drug in.”

  Christina cringed. Maybe she needed a total make-over. That’s the second time in twenty-four hours someone said that to her.

  Chapter 23 Kolaches and Cheeseburgers

  “Well, I was helping stranded grandmothers get pulled out of creeks. What did you expect?” Christina looked in the mirror. She really needed to get her hair cut. Maybe a whole new style to go with the new glasses. Right, the ones nobody’s suppose to notice?

  “Really? Wow, I want to hear all about it.” Angela leaned her back against the sink and crossed her legs.

  “Maybe someday. Not now. I’m bone tired. I’ve been wet then dry too many times in the last two days. Uh, thanks for the goody bag of makeup.” She flicked on the curling iron.

  “You know I always keep them in my desk.”

  “I had heard rumors…”

  They both laughed. Their voices bounced off the tile walls and echoed into the stalls.

  “Sshhh. We’ll have the whole office in here. Oh look.” Angela opened the first stall door and took something off the hoo
k. “It’s a blouse I just got back from the cleaners. It may be a little big, but…”

  “Bless you. You are an angel. I owe you.”

  “Just hand over what’s in that marvelous smelling bag.” She picked it up and sniffed.

  “It’s a peace offering. Save some for the others, okay? By the way, how’s Marcos? Has he gone back to day care? Is his throat still sore?” The two chattered as Christina preened.

  Being gone a day was a poor idea. It had all hit the fan and landed on her desk. Along with a dozen peppermint carnations nestled in fern and baby’s breath and a sealed florist’s card.

  She sensed all eyes on her as she ripped it open and read the message. The note simply said, “No matter what’s going on, I love you. Jeff.”

  She stuffed the card in her pocket. “It’s just from Jeff. He knew I had to leave town on family stuff.”

  “So, no huge fight and make-up attempt, then?” Angela asked for the rest. “That was our guess. Thought you’d left in a huff. Things have been building between you two.”

  Christina waved the idea away. “No, nothing like that.”

  Well, almost not like that. Christina thought she’d done a pretty good job covering up her home troubles. But then again, they were all far too close after working together so many years to hide much from each other. She supposed she’d let snippets slip out over hen sessions during lunch a few times.

  In spite of their closeness, only one of her coworkers noticed her new glasses. Sandy, on the way back from the break room, a Kolache in her hand, winked a thank you at Christina, then stopped. She did a double take and began to walk backwards. Pausing at the front of Christina’s desk, she locked her elbows, leaned forward and said, “Okay, I give up. Something is different. It’s not your hair is it? No. New makeup?”