by Paula Mowery
“Sure, coffee, tea, hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate, if it’s not too much trouble.” A visible shiver shook her body.
“I’ll be right back.” Hope sped to the lounge, mixing the hot drink and snatching the prayer shawl from her locker. Back in Grace’s room, Tiffany was still sitting forward in the chair, staring at her daughter. Hope handed her the cup and draped the shawl around her shoulders.
Tiffany looked up into Hope’s eyes. “What’s this?”
“A prayer shawl I made. I thought it might warm and comfort you.”
Tiffany’s chin quivered. She set her cup on the nearby windowsill and stroked the shawl. “Did you say prayer? Are you a Christian?”
Hope nodded and knelt so she was eye-level with the woman. “Yes, I am.”
Tiffany practically launched from the chair to embrace Hope. When Tiffany eased back, she adjusted the shawl back around her shoulders where it had slid slightly off. “Two weeks ago, I was saved at a women’s Bible study I attended with a friend of mine.”
Hope grasped her hands. “Tiffany, that is wonderful.”
Tiffany glanced at Grace and then back. “I want to be a good mom.” Her voice broke.
“You’re on the right track. A good mom is a godly one.” Hope noticed no wedding ring. “Are you single?”
Tiffany bowed her head. “Yes. My past isn’t pretty.”
“God takes you as you are, but he won’t leave you that way. He’ll mold you and lead you.”
Tiffany swiped at tears from her cheeks and smiled. “Thank you.”
Hope stood and patted her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
Sean relaxed on his couch, surfing the Internet. A trip and some travel writing were in his future. He needed to branch out. The articles he was writing now just didn’t thrill him. Something was missing. With the approach of spring just around the corner, he could slip away for a few weeks. March was the time for spring breaks.
His cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Son, could you come over to the house?” His tone was serious.
Sean sat up straight. “Now?”
“Please.”
“I’m on my way.”
Sean’s heart raced, and he swiped clammy hands down his jeans. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but his father’s grave tone drove Sean to get to his parent’s house immediately.
He gripped the steering wheel, thinking back ten years ago. His mother had just moved into the head of the department of English at the university when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. After her mastectomy, the treatments had taken such a toll on her that she had to retire. Of course, she had said God had worked everything out, because she then had the time to write and publish her Bible studies. Sean didn’t think God had anything to do with it.
He pulled into his parent’s driveway behind his brother’s familiar minivan. He took a deep breath and bounded through the front door. He found his parents and brother in the family room. He crossed and planted a peck on his mom’s forehead, then plopped down next to Richard on the couch.
“Boys, we wanted to tell you in person that Mom has breast cancer again.” His father’s tone was matter-of-fact. Despite that, Sean’s gut wrenched.
Richard slid forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “What does that mean? Same as the last?”
“Not exactly,” his mother said. “The doctor says this isn’t a recurrence. It’s a different type of cancer. We proceed one step at a time. I plan on having the mastectomy, then it depends on the lymph node tests as to treatments.”
“When?” Sean blurted out the question before he thought. He cleared his throat. “I mean, do you have the surgery set?”
“Next week, on Tuesday.” His mother’s voice shook slightly. She swallowed.
“The doctor is a little more concerned this time. He wishes this had been caught sooner.” The worry lines in his father’s forehead were evident.
“But, we need to flood the situation with prayer. God is in control.” Mother folded her hands in her lap.
Sean didn’t share her confidence in prayer, but in this situation he wished he did. Before he left his parent’s house, he located their church’s phone directory and entered a number into his cell contact list.
As soon as he started his drive toward his apartment, he scrolled to the number and pressed call.
“Hello?” the sweet, soothing voice answered.
“Hello, yes, is this Hope? Hope Weaver, the nurse who makes the shawls?”
“Yes, this is Hope, and I do crochet prayer shawls. Who…?”
“I’m sorry, this is Sean Holland. We met a couple of months ago at the hospital. I’m Richard’s brother.”
“Oh, yes, I remember you.”
“I hope you don’t mind my call. I need to ask you a favor.”
“Okay?”
“Could you make one of your prayer shawls for my mother? She has breast cancer again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But, of course, I would be honored to do that for Mrs. Holland. She is such a godly woman.”
“Um, yeah.” She was right, however he didn’t put much stock in all the religious stuff. But he had seen and heard people give testimony to these shawls Hope made. If there was any validity to their claims, he wanted to make sure his mother had one. “Would I need to pick it up or something?”
“Can I call you at this number? I usually deliver the shawls myself…”
“Whatever it is you do.”
“I’ll call you, and we can deliver it together. Okay?”
“Sure. Yeah. Thanks.” Sean scratched his head. Was he completely crazy? If the shawl did nothing else, it would encourage his mother.
* * *
Hope ended the call from Sean and plopped into her glider rocker. She would’ve never guessed she would receive a call requesting a prayer shawl from Sean Holland. She would have never expected him to even remember her. Since she hadn’t seen him in a couple of months, she had forgotten about those nudges upon meeting him. What was God up to? She reached into her crochet caddy and pulled out her needle and a soothing blue skein of yarn. Not only would each stitch be embedded with prayers for Mrs. Holland, but also for Sean.
CHAPTER THREE
Hope completed Mrs. Holland’s prayer shawl late Friday evening. After breakfast the next morning, she brought up Sean Holland’s number and pressed send.
“Hello, Hope. You don’t mind if I call you that, right?”
She stifled a giggle. “Nope, that’s my name. I just wanted to let you know that your mother’s shawl is complete.”
“Great.” There was a silent pause. “Do you…I mean, could I…?” Sean cleared his throat.
“Mr. Holland, I’m free all day if you would like to take it to your mother today.”
“Sean.”
“Excuse me?”
“If I’m going to call you Hope, then you have to call me Sean.”
“Okay, Sean.” Heat flushed her cheeks. She swallowed. “Just tell me when you want to go and give me directions to your mother’s house.” Hope slid a notepad over and picked up a pen.
“Oh, no, let me pick you up.”
She bit her lip and sucked in a breath. “All right.”
“How about around eleven?”
“That’s fine.” Hope rattled off her address.
The call ended, but she stared at the phone. Should she have agreed to let Sean pick her up? She gnawed her bottom lip. How was this going to look? Just the two of them showing up at his parent’s house? Her stomach fluttered. She reprimanded herself. Sean didn’t mean anything by this. He simply wanted the two of them to deliver the shawl together.
Hope jumped to her feet and sprinted to her bedroom. She needed something more than the comfortable clothes she had on. Finally, she settled on black slacks and a long-sleeved rose-colored blouse. She touched up her makeup and fluffed her hair. She st
opped and grinned at her reflection. Why was she making such a fuss? This wasn’t a date. Far from it.
* * *
Sean pulled into a space at Hope’s apartment building. He sighed and shook his head. What in the world had he been thinking when he insisted on picking Hope up? Did she consider him forward? He was used to dating the women he knew. This was—what?
Movement in front of the car caught his eye. Was that Hope? The scrubs she had worn at the hospital didn’t do her justice. Her black slacks and rose blouse accented her slim body. Her light brown hair hung around her shoulders, sporting blonde highlights that glinted in the sun.
Sean fumbled with his car door. He finally opened it and jumped out. “Hey, I guess you’re ready.”
Hope flashed a smile. Her teeth were perfect. Sean cleared his throat to cover the fact that he was staring. Mesmerized. He rushed past her to open the passenger side door. As she ducked inside, she bowed her head slightly and her lashes fluttered. His heart flip-flopped. Making his way to the driver’s side, he took a deep breath and let it out. He scolded himself for his reaction.
He slid into his seat and backed the car from the spot. The silence was awkward. A question came to his mind. “How much do I owe you for the shawl?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you asked me.”
Had he offended her? His parents’ house came into view. “Here we are.”
Before they made it all the way up the walk, Sean’s mother opened the front door, and waited in the threshold. “Hey, sweetheart.” She hugged him. Sean stepped back. His mother embraced Hope.
“So good to see you, Hope. Welcome to our home.” Mother motioned Hope inside.
“Thank you, Mrs. Holland.”
His mother stopped in the entry and looked Hope in the eyes. “It’s Rita.”
Hope smiled. Mother grasped Hope’s hand and led her into the family room. When everyone sat, Hope slid the shawl out of her bag and unfurled it. “Sean wanted you to have a prayer shawl for your upcoming surgery.”
Mother’s eyes widened, and she gazed into her son’s eyes. “Thank you, son.”
Hope stood. “May I?”
Mother nodded.
Hope draped the soothing blue shawl around Mothers’ shoulders and then sat back down. Mother stroked the delicate fringe. Her countenance seemed to soften. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Hope.”
“Could I pray for you, Rita?”
Mother’s eyes were suddenly glassy, and she blinked a few times. Her lips parted momentarily but then closed. She nodded.
Hope grasped mother’s hand and then reached for Sean’s. When he completed the circle by gripping his mother’s other hand, mother and Hope bowed their heads and closed their eyes.
Hope spoke to God as if he were right there in the room. Her words and tone were full of confidence.
Sean sensed a stirring deep inside—like someone lost now found. He shook it off. This was for his mom.
* * *
Hope embraced Mrs. Holland again. “You know I’ll still be praying, especially next Tuesday.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Sean kissed his mother’s cheek. Rita escorted them out and stood on her front porch as Sean jogged in front of Hope, opening the passenger side door. She turned and waved at Sean’s mother and then ducked into the car.
Sean slid into the driver’s side. He paused. “Do you have plans for lunch?”
Hope’s breath caught. What should she say? She never expected Sean to ask her this.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. You probably have things to do.” He started to back from the driveway.
“Lunch sounds good.”
Sean glanced her way and smiled. “Okay. What do you like?”
She shrugged. “I’m not too picky.”
“Mexican?”
“Sure.”
The short drive was quiet. If their meal was this silent, this would be an awkward hour. But, maybe this was God providing an opportunity for Hope to probe Sean’s heart a bit.
They sat at a booth with chips and salsa between them. “Thanks again for making the shawl and going with me.” His tone oozed sincerity.
“I’m truly glad you asked me, so I could pray for your mother. I have great respect for her, especially after being in one of her Bible studies last year. She’s an amazing Bible teacher.”
“She was an amazing English professor, too. Her students raved about her.” He diverted his gaze to his tea glass, stirring the ice with his straw. “She had to give it up. The treatments from her last bout with this left her listless.” His voice trailed off. He sniffed and ran a hand down his face. He looked Hope in the eyes. “People prayed then too.” His tone and expression exuded deep hurt. Accusation emanated from his eyes.
Hope prayed silently for God to help her say the right things. “Your mother seemed to have ultimately come through the first surgery and treatments well.”
Sean leaned his elbows on the table. “And now, she has to go through this again. Did those prayers not stick?” His question held a hint of sarcasm.
“I won’t lead you to believe that I understand God’s ways.”
“But, why? My mother is a church attender and a good person. For goodness sake, she writes Bible studies.”
“Sean, God’s not punishing your mother. Things happen, but God can bring good from it. I know for a fact that your mother has testified that she was meant to retire when she first fought breast cancer.”
Sean rolled his eyes and nodded. “I know, I know. She was then able to write her studies and teach them.”
“Yes, and she’s touched many lives.”
“So, why again?” He shrugged.
“His ways aren’t my ways or his thoughts my thoughts.”
“What does that mean?”
Hope leaned forward. “It means I don’t speak for God.”
Sean’s expression softened. “I just don’t want her to have to go through this again. I hate it for her.”
“Of course you do.”
“Will you be there?”
Hope didn’t know how to respond. His meaning wasn’t clear.
“For the surgery. Can you be there on Tuesday?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.” At the moment she couldn’t recall if she was scheduled to work, but she would switch if need be. Sean’s pleading eyes convinced her to do whatever it took.
A smile lit Sean’s face.
Their food arrived, alleviating some of the conversation’s heaviness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sean’s request for Hope to be at his mom’s surgery had surprised even himself. But, in his defense, she calmed and intrigued him all at the same time.
Hope was nothing like the women he went out with. Why did he even compare her with those women? This wasn’t that kind of relationship. Was it?
He wasn’t sure why he deemed Hope’s presence necessary at the hospital on Mom’s surgery day. Was he beginning to think her prayers worked? No. She did bring a positive vibe, and there was proof that a positive mindset during cancer surgeries and treatments often meant patients fared better.
Sean flipped through some more Internet travel sites, hoping to focus on something else.
Who was he trying to fool? His attraction to Hope, for lack of a better term of description, was different. Every other woman he had ever dated was shallow by comparison. Hope exuded a genuine tenderhearted compassion that pulled him in. She spoke with conviction. Even though Sean’s beliefs didn’t line up with hers, he had to credit her for standing on hers. He’d seen his parents frustrated when he challenged their beliefs. Hope simply stated her opinion with confidence. Sean respected that.
She was easy to look at, too. Earlier, when she emerged from her apartment building with her hair down and flashed those tawny-green eyes, he went speechless.
Even at the memory, he inhaled deep and let the air out slowly. Stay focused. The story of Hope and her shawls would make a great “touchy-feely” story, bu
t that was all the involvement he needed with her.
He would write his story, get mom over this hump, and then catch a plane some place to write the next story. Maybe he would take off somewhere exotic. A date with a couple of tanned beauties would get his mind off Hope Weaver. The two of them could never work—her with a squeaky Christian witness and his knowing she was wasting her time believing lies.
* * *
Hope changed her shift on Tuesday with ease. Her quiet times filled with fervent prayers, not only for Mrs. Holland, but for Sean. What had turned him away from God? She sipped her hot tea.
She was still surprised he had asked her to be there tomorrow during the surgery with his obvious aversion to her faith. In another situation, Hope might have been flattered to have dined with Sean Holland. She couldn’t deny his attractiveness—his sculptured chin, blue eyes, broad shoulders. But the verse about not being unequally-yoked kept parading through her mind.
Why would she even think Sean would give her the time of day?
Hope rose early and packed her satchel with her Bible, e-reader, and snack crackers. She wasn’t sure what to expect sitting in the waiting room with Sean. Who else might be there? She was sure Mr. Holland would be.
She kept a continual prayer line open to God, asking for His hands to be upon Mrs. Holland, and his words to be upon her lips. She entered the surgical waiting room to find Sean seated alone in one corner. His shoulders drooped. She crossed the room and stood in front of him.
“How are you doing?” She took a seat next to him. He seemed to sit up a little straighter.
“Hey. I’m okay, I guess.”
Out of habit, Hope patted his knee and smiled. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Sean grabbed her hand and held it. The nerves in Hope’s hand stirred, and a warmth spread through her chest. Had he sensed her body’s reaction to his touch? She swallowed in an attempt to calm her heart. His gaze seemed to bore deep into her.
“Thank you for being here.” No words would come.
“They’ve taken her back now,” a low voice broke in. With Sean’s attention averted from her, Hope could breathe again. Mr. Holland and his son, Richard, took seats across from them. Both greeted Hope, and she returned the hellos. Her heart calmed.
