She nodded and hurried to her car.
He felt the blast of cold wind on his face. He’d dared not let himself dream of anything but this project since he’d made his commitment three years ago. It was close to being over. Whether or not any contracts were signed or dreams materialized.
He would never fear homelessness again. He could live with that. But success could be more difficult to handle than failure.
Was it going to be that way for. . .Gloria?
twenty-nine
Frank and Jim were more adept on the computers than Gloria, so the two of them worked on getting the photos into the machines and matching them up with the captions. Gloria worked in the RA’s office and edited Thomas’s introductions, when she could see through her blurry eyes, wet with emotion of Thomas’s dream so close to being realized.
By the time they finished, Frank received calls from two editors of huge companies expressing their interest. Frank told them the book manuscript was being sent around. The editors responded that they’d be taking it to committee as soon as possible. Frank hung up, and his smile was wide. “The bidding has begun.”
That evening at supper, she, Jim, and Clara talked about it. Everything pointed to Thomas’s three-year journey ending successfully. “He deserves it,” Jim said. “He worked for it every step of the way.”
“The residents are going to really miss him,” Gloria said.
“Is he going away?” Clara asked.
“I don’t think so. He’s talked about being home. But if this works out, he probably won’t have time to cook at the shelter.”
Jim scoffed. “If Clara would let me, I’d bet you on that. He’s not abandoning anyone. And Gloria, you’ve been a big part of his life for a long time now.”
“Don’t try to make something personal out of this, Jim. It was all about the project.”
“Really?” Jim huffed. “Well, I know as much as you about computers, and I’ve been decorating Christmas trees longer than either of you have been living, so why didn’t he invite me to a romantic dinner in an empty hotel? With candlelight and everything?”
Clara laughed. “He probably knew I’d object.”
A little humor could help. But so could honesty. “He asked me because all he needed was a little typing. And you’re much busier at the center than I. But. . .” She felt she could be a little more honest. “I was glad to meet a need for a homeless man. Now I feel honored that I helped a great man. He is, you know.”
Jim nodded. “The potential for it is there. If there’s any greatness to it though, it’s because of his commitment to the Lord and wanting his life and talent to be used for God’s glory and the good of mankind. He acknowledges he’s homeless and hopeless without the Lord.”
Gloria was nodding now. “I’ve learned from that. And you two”—she looked from one to another—“have shown me what commitment to the Lord means. Not what you get for yourself but what you can give to others.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Gloria. We all have to learn those things for ourselves. The good Lord gives us brains and opportunities and lets us meet people and allows us choices. We need to use what we have in making decisions. But we have to learn what seems good isn’t always best. Only the Lord knows that, and we need to let him lead.”
“I’m trying to learn to do that,” Gloria admitted. “I didn’t handle the Raymond situation well. Now I’m glad I didn’t get Raymond. Glad I lost the job. Glad I lost what I thought was security. I’m even”—this she hadn’t thought she could ever do—“learning to understand my parents’ commitment to the mission field. It’s like Thomas said, when you make a vow to the Lord, you don’t back out of it.” She sighed. “I’ve been selfish.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting your parents with you.”
“You two have been all the parents anyone could want, and I love you as much or more than I love my own parents.” Clara patted her hand. “Do you think my parents knew how I felt?”
“Yes,” Jim said, “and that’s not a bad thing. No parent wants to think their child is perfectly content without them.”
“And I knew a few people who had their parents with them all the time but didn’t have a good relationship or didn’t appreciate them. Now that I’ve grown up a little I see that God gave me two sets of parents,” Gloria said.
“And you’re the child we never had,” Clara said. “I couldn’t ask for a better daughter. You’re much too hard on yourself.”
A few days later Frank surprised Gloria by letting her know that he and Thomas had approved the book deal offered by an editor, and the signed contracts were on their way back to the publishing company. They would work in conjunction with the gallery on getting the book published by the time of Thomas’s exhibit. No contracts had been signed with the gallery, but they were in meetings deciding on the dates of the exhibit.
And then he asked if she were available to be a first reader on a manuscript a prospective writer had sent to his agency. She didn’t feel qualified, but Frank’s e-mail said all she needed to do was read it for interest and point out any glaring errors, any needed information the author should have included, or anything overdone. Not to worry, hers wouldn’t be the final word, only the first word.
She had to cry a little, and when Jim came into the office she told him. Then later in the day, to her surprise, Thomas popped in looking the same as usual in worn jeans, a T-shirt, and the bush on his face. She cried again while telling him. She reminded him of what she’d said about changing her major so Raymond would give her a managerial position. “But my real love was English,” she said. “I thought I might teach, and way back in my mind was a possibility of writing. Never in my wildest dreams would I expect a prominent agent to ask me to read something and give my opinion.” She might as well go further. “Or that I’d have any part in helping a little on a book for a famous man.”
“And who is that famous man?”
She pointed at him.
He shook his head. “That was a homeless man you helped. Not a famous one. And he knows what is happening now may never happen again. We’re all one bad decision or one adversity away from disaster.”
She smiled at that. “And someone told me adversity can be a blessing when committed to the Lord.”
“Just getting through it is a blessing,” he said then smiled. “Speaking of blessings, Jim said your parents will be back soon.”
“Yes, they’ll be on furlough for six months.”
“They’re welcome to stay in an almost empty hotel.”
“They’re used to little grass huts”—she exaggerated a little—“so Jim and Clara’s house is like a mansion to them.”
“I know the feeling,” he said. “Now I have an appointment with Caleb. Did you know Ted hired him?”
“I heard that. He and Heather and Bobby are planning to be together again by Christmas.”
“Thanks again, for everything,” he said as he left.
She thought of the difference in her thinking since a few months ago. There were still things she wanted for herself. But instead of dwelling on what may not be God’s plan for her, she was truly happy for Thomas and his success, that his dream was coming true. She was thrilled with Caleb getting a job and being with his family again.
Her thoughts concentrated more on her blessings now. Her parents were coming home. Some desires of her heart were happening, some, like with Frank, that she didn’t even know had been in her heart.
She would not fuss about what other dreams might be in her heart. It wasn’t always best to get what you want, like her life of security with Raymond. She didn’t have to always like it, but she would just. . .trust God, who knew best.
Thomas invited her, Clara, Jim, and the volunteers to supper the following week when he’d cook for the residents. After they served the residents, they all stayed, and Thomas told them about the project, how he’d been on the streets and decided to bring more awareness of homelessness to the public. He prais
ed Gloria for the time and work she’d put into the book, and they applauded. When he said Jim and Caleb would be included in the book and paintings, they all clapped and whistled, having taken a liking to Caleb and his family.
He stressed the adversities in his life and about his living in an empty hotel. He would be needing some laborers to clean, make any minor repairs that might be required, do yard work, wash windows, and address anything else necessary to make it more habitable. Their response was wonderful.
After his speech Thomas sat in the chair Jim had saved for him, between him and Lois’s husband. “You should tell your story to the church,” Jim said.
“Oh yes,” Lois readily agreed. “They need to be reminded we can always use more donations and volunteers. They’re used to me, but they’d listen to an artist.”
Thomas looked past her husband. “They’d listen to you if you waved that spatula around at them instead of at me.”
“Tell me about it!” her husband said, and they all laughed.
“Seriously though,” Thomas said, “I’d like to do that. Speaking to churches should be a natural outgrowth of the project, which is not to promote myself but bring attention to the needs, the goodness of people, and the opportunities.”
“It would be a great tribute to your dad,” Jim said. “And a time to say how much the workers and volunteers mean to the homeless.”
“Right,” Thomas agreed. “We,” he said with a nod toward Gloria, “have included the church in the acknowledgments since they sponsor Wildwood.”
Lois pushed back from the table. “Looks like they’ve just about got everything cleaned up, so it’s time I asked if I can do anything.” She said she was so proud of Thomas and Gloria then lifted her hands. “All of you.”
“And we of you, Lois,” Jim said, and they all nodded.
After they left, Thomas said, “Before you three leave, I have something for you.”
He went behind the kitchen counter and returned with three envelopes with their names in beautiful script. One for Jim and Clara, one for Mr. and Mrs. Seely, and one for Gloria.
She thought the envelopes would hold an invitation to his art exhibit or announce the publication date of his book. After they walked home, Gloria and Clara hastily extracted the flap out of the envelopes and removed the folded cards—and they gasped, giving each other a surprised, wide-eyed look.
thirty
“Let me see yours,” Clara said at the same time Gloria reached for hers.
“I want in on this, too,” Jim said, as he opened the one to the Seelys.
“That’s a federal offense,” Clara warned. “Let me see.”
They all exchanged the cards. On the front in beautiful red script were the words A Party for My Friends. On Gloria’s was a small sketch of her with a tinge of watercolor for emphasis. Sketches of Jim and Clara graced theirs.
“How did he know what my parents look like?”
“Oh,” Clara said, “he stopped by one evening when you went to the movies with Heather and Marge. We got to talking about them, so I showed him my picture album.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Well hon, should I?” She got that playful look. “You weren’t taking him personally.”
“Claraaaaa,” she scolded, while Jim chuckled. “Maybe we should look inside and see when this party takes place.”
They opened the cards, and inside a few words provided details. There would be a drop-in reception for a few friends at the hotel following the Singing Christmas Tree program at the church. He asked that they park at the back and enter that way, since he didn’t want it to appear the hotel was open for business.
That would be two weeks before Christmas.
In the meantime her parents arrived, and they had a wonderful time becoming reacquainted, as adults appreciating each other’s lives and work. They wanted to see the shelter the next day, so all of them ate breakfast at Wildwood, met Thomas, and thanked him for the invitation.
They were proud of Gloria’s accomplishments with Thomas’s book and her work at the shelter. “I don’t deserve praise,” she said. “You two went to the mission field willingly. I didn’t have much of a choice when I started working here. But God was in it.”
“We didn’t always go willingly, Gloria,” her dad said, and her mom put her arm around Gloria’s waist. “We never wanted to leave you. But it wasn’t best you go with us except in your early years. You got a better high school and college education here and the loving care from Clara and Jim that you deserved.”
“Thank you for your sacrifice,” she said. She’d learned to appreciate their life of service.
They left with Clara, but Jim and Gloria stayed to work in the office. Her thoughts however turned to that upcoming Singing Christmas Tree event and the party and wondering what to wear.
The invitation had said a few friends. One of his friends was a millionaire. Her parents were missionaries, but they had nice clothes they left at Clara and Jim’s since they were often asked to speak in churches when they were on furlough. Finally she decided to dress like she did before coming to live with Jim and Clara and working in a homeless shelter, and felt good about it.
On the day of the party, she washed her hair and used a curling iron to give it an extra flair. She dressed in the outfit she’d bought last Christmas for what she’d thought would be the special occasion of becoming engaged. Now she would wear it in celebration of not becoming engaged.
It was a short, black satin party dress that fell right above her knees. The waistline was decorated with silver rhinestones as were the straps fastened to the straight neckline bordered by a row of rhinestones. She knew it was classy and wore long, dangling rhinestone earrings and satin three-inch heels. Since Jim would drive them to the church, she wouldn’t wear a coat, but the black satin shawl.
Gloria had attended the Singing Christmas Tree program in years past. It was quite famous around the area. They were all delighted with it as usual, especially her parents who didn’t get to come home every Christmas.
Many people at the church came up to speak to her parents after the program. By the time they arrived at the hotel, a couple cars were parked out back. A car pulled in right after Jim. Pastor Dan and his wife, Norma, exited the front of the car. Caleb and Heather got out of the back.
They walked to the back door and as soon as it was opened, a woman welcomed them, asked for their coats, and hung them in a nearby closet. Caleb looked nice in a suit and tie. Heather wore a lovely strapless dress with a white bodice and green skirt. They complimented each other on their looks.
The woman asked that they go into the dining room, help themselves to appetizers, and continue on to the living room.
Ted, in a formal suit and bow tie, and Libby, wearing a beautiful red cocktail dress that complemented her dark hair, gathered goodies on their plates while Blackston answered questions about the treats and took orders for the drinks of their choice.
Glancing around the wall, Gloria noticed the paintings from which reproductions for tourists had been made hung back in their places. The paintings of homeless and volunteers were probably at the gallery.
As soon as they entered the living room, she recognized James but not the good-looking man talking to him. Until he turned his head and his dark eyes met hers. That was Thomas, his eyes dancing, moving his hand up to his smoothly shaved face, looking like he was. . .handsome or something.
He came over. All she could think to say was, “Do I know you?”
“Better than anyone else here,” he said. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met James.” He made the introductions that included Arlene, a pretty woman wearing an elegant, long ivory-colored dress. She also met Frank’s wife, Jan, an attractive woman in silk formal pants and a gold metallic top.
Everyone looked so beautiful. The setting and everything seemed so perfect, so different from the shelter. Then she almost laughed. She wasn’t exactly wearing jeans and a T-shirt either.
&nb
sp; “Looks like we’re all here,” Thomas said. “When anyone wants seconds, there’s Blackston to help you.” Blackston stood at the doorway. “Then let’s have a seat and get reacquainted.”
thirty-one
Four each sat on the couches. Easy chairs sat alongside. Thomas began by saying he wanted to share with them what he’d been doing for three years.
Gloria sank into one of the easy chairs, watching and listening to Thomas talk. He told the same story she already knew but never tired of hearing. His emphasis was different than when he talked to Frank. He now included Caleb, who was beginning to accept the trauma and understand that he was a hero, like any fighting man. He’d been spending time with his family and would move back in with them during the coming week.
Her parents talked about their missionary experiences, some harrowing, but most delightful, about the small church that was growing, and people coming to know the Lord.
Frank praised Gloria’s work on the notebook and the manuscript she’d helped with, saying, “I’m sure there will be many more if you’re willing. Whether they would be plentiful or sparse is unpredictable. In the arts, not much is guaranteed.”
Thomas agreed. “This upcoming exhibit may be the only one I ever have. Can’t count on another.”
“It’s a little different with you now, Thomas,” Frank said. “The promotion is already going out. You’re becoming known. After this you can paint”—he spread his hands—“flowers if you like, and they’ll be acclaimed and sold.”
“You make it sound like something’s wrong with flowers.”
Frank reared back. “Not at all. Monet did all right.”
They all agreed with that.
“I prefer faces,” Thomas said, “but flowers are not a bad idea. I’ve watched the flowers that Gloria raises and brings to the shelter. They wilt and die. I see the pansies and think of them returning another year. An evening primrose blooms in the evening, but the blooms wither and fall off the following morning. A coneflower or a daisy or daffodil will return year after year. Crocuses pop up through the snow. The theme could be, as my editor told me,” he said and grinned, looking at Gloria, “that you need to bloom where you’re planted. You don’t know if your purpose is short or long term.”
A Knight to Remember Page 14
