by Lisa Heaton
When her grandmother said she was tired and heading for home, Lucy offered to go with her, saying, “Daddy can walk Chelsea home.”
After an awkward silence, Chelsea assured her, “Oh, I don’t need him to walk with me. I’m just down the block.”
Tuck insisted. Lucy and her grandmother left, and the next thing she knew, Chelsea was walking down the sidewalk with Tuck.
“I’m sorry about that.”
Grinning, Chelsea said, “That girl is something else.”
Wondering, Tuck asked, “But you like her though?”
Chelsea stopped. “She is one of the most amazing little girls I’ve ever known. Of course I love my nieces, and they are great girls, but Lucy’s different. She’s like a little lady in a girl’s body, wise beyond her years.”
Smiling, he agreed. “She is something else.”
They walked for a while in silence. As they neared her house, he said, “Thanks for letting me walk you home.” When they came to the end of the sidewalk leading to her house, Tuck stopped and looked up. Bobby told him that the old guy bought the house for her for graduation and about all the money he gave her. He could hardly get over it. Chelsea had millions of dollars and still she came to see his little girl play piano that night. No matter what she had, she was the same Chelsea he’d loved since she was a girl, long before he dared admit his feelings to her or Bobby.
“Thanks for walking with me. Do you want to come up for a minute?”
“Sure. Maybe we can swing for a while.”
Before either knew it, an hour had passed. Just as it was when he visited L.A., their old friendship surfaced, and it was as if nothing hurtful had ever stood between them. Tuck asked about John and surprising herself, Chelsea was very open about how she felt. Hoping to settle any confusion that Tuck may have, she admitted that she was still as in love with him as before. She went as far as to say that she had no intention of ever stopping. Her insistence that he would eventually come for her sounded as crazy when spoken aloud as she imagined it to be, but it was what she felt deep in her heart. Since there was no one else she could really be open with about John, and Tuck was the only one who knew what actually happened, she found it to be rather therapeutic to talk to him. It had been exhausting to keep up the pretense that she was over John.
Tuck was disappointed by her admission to be sure, but still his hope never faltered. With Chelsea living back home, going to church with him, and even beginning a sweet new friendship with his daughter, he had no reason to doubt that he could win her back eventually. The fact that she was finally willing to sit and simply talk to him was progress. Since she arrived home, he knew without question that she’d been avoiding him. So he allowed her space. Knowing that she was having a hard time adjusting to life back home, he would not do anything to pursue her while she was feeling so vulnerable. But as Bobby assured him she was getting stronger, he was simply biding his time to find an entry point back into her life. Ironically, it was Lucy who had made such a way.
John took the package with him and set it on the passenger seat when he headed for home. Occasionally, he would glance over at the box from Chelsea and wonder what she could’ve possibly sent. It was a day before his birthday, so he was sure it was a gift of some sort. When Irene brought the box in to his office and sat it on his desk, she cleared her throat, hoping to draw his attention to the return address. From that moment on, his attention was on little else but the box. Still, he fought the urge to open it there at the office. He instead wanted to be in the privacy of their home, fearing it would be something that would cause him to become emotional. For his birthday the previous year, her small photo album of their time together was the best gift he’d ever received in his life. Still, he looked through it, reminiscing and regretting.
Once he entered the condo, he immediately went to the sofa and placed the box on the coffee table. For a minute more, he simply sat and stared. Finally, he reached for it and tore open the brown outer wrapping to reveal balloon birthday paper underneath. Slowly, his lips formed into a smile. It was bright and cheery, exactly what she would pick. There was a white envelope taped to the outside with his name scrawled in large letters. Lifting the box, he moved it to his lap and pulled the card free. When he opened it, he found a pretty generic birthday card, with a sheet of notebook paper tucked inside.
Dear John,
Now it’s me who is in breach of contract, but I couldn’t allow your birthday to go by unnoticed. Plus, I have a story to share with you that you may find interesting.
There was a girl who received a gift, beautifully wrapped and inviting, but she found she couldn’t open it. For many reasons, she saved the gift for later. Hiding the box away in her closet, she knew it was there if she ever needed it, but still she refrained from looking inside. One night, though, desperate for something to lift her spirits, she took the box out. What she found was shocking to be sure, and even more shocking, was what she found as she continued to open the gifts associated with the box. She discovered that she was a millionaire several times over. As if that were not enough, her family’s farm was saved from foreclosure.
For more than fifteen hundred miles and over the course of weeks, she lived poor and with little prospects of a future. Suddenly though, simply by opening a gift she’d already received, she had the ability to change the world, the one thing she dreamed of doing. What if she would have never opened that box because she feared disappointment? She would have lived out the remainder of her life with all the wealth she could want, yet never knowing its benefit.
I tell you about this girl I know, as it applies to you.
When you were young, you received a gift into your hands. It was yours – salvation. In the years since, you have continued to carry that gift around with you, but never have you opened the lid to peer inside. At fifty, you still don’t comprehend the love that God has for you, and you certainly don’t know how to love Him in return. What I’m giving you for your birthday is an opportunity to get to know Him. Once you do, you’ll finally understand what is in the box.
I have been thinking this over, and the only thing I can ever recall asking you for was that we be real for a season. Since I have asked for so little, I feel it is not too much to ask for one thing more. I ask you to please begin going to my church there. I ask that you read your Bible every day. (Spoiler alert! That’s your gift.) Please, John, for me. I ask that you set your mind to get to know Jesus. If what you find is what you consider a waste of time, then all you have lost is a little time. But if what you gain is similar to what I experience in my daily life walking with God, then it will be the best birthday gift you ever receive.
I am committing to pray for you daily, that you know Him and all He offers you.
I pray this will be the first day of the rest of your life.
Chelsea
John sat motionless with the letter in hand. True enough, she only ever asked for the one thing. He tried to think back but could come up with nothing else. Many times he offered her anything money could buy, and never did she desire it. Finally, he found something that meant enough to her that she would even ask. A few months back, if she would have asked, he would have complied, but only because she asked. Back then he would have done so with doubt in his heart. But after the past few months alone, he found that God may be his only hope, his last option. Since seeing her at her graduation, something shifted within him. Work, no matter how many hours he put in, could not fill the emptiness. He traveled even more than usual, but each trip, every moment on the plane, all he could do was envision Chelsea riding alongside him. Her presence, or more accurately, the lack of her presence haunted him. Without her, nothing was the same as before. Clearly, he would never be able to go back to life as it was before her, and he had to wonder if this was what life would always be like without her, barren and empty.
Five months had passed since they ended their relationship, and after all those months, he was worse off than in the beginning. His life ha
d taken such a downward spiral that he often thought of contacting her and asking her to take him back. It was what Mark and Karen suggested. In those first weeks after telling him of the breakup, Mark allowed him space, but after a rather violent outburst in a meeting where John threatened an employee, Mark and Karen both stepped in and tried to help him through his grief. Neither could understand how he could love her as much as he professed, yet let her go. Many times they encouraged him to contact her and each and every time he was more tempted to do so.
Twice during the summer months, he flew out to be with his parents. Once there, though, he found he couldn’t even talk to them about his feelings. Inside him there was a sense of rage like he’d never known. At times he suspected that if he peeled back the outer layer of his skin, he would literally find his blood boiling. That was the intensity of anger he felt at being without Chelsea, but oddly enough, he could never truly pinpoint the source of that anger. So while he was with his parents, he simply sat with them, feeling at least a little less alone. His mother asked very few questions, and when she did, they were never about Chelsea. She knew they had ended things, but she never asked the details. Somehow, he sensed she knew more than she let on, but he never asked.
While in Montana, he went to church with his parents and found he enjoyed it more than he remembered in the past. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been there with Chelsea and she liked it so much. Somehow he felt a bit closer to her when he was at church. One thing he noted was that on a spiritual level, he was in no way ready to receive what the preacher was peddling. Due to his anger and because of the intensity of pain he continually felt in Chelsea’s absence, he could hardly believe such words and concepts as God’s love and mercy. If God was indeed merciful, would He not somehow bring him comfort? Many times, though, he had to admit that comfort could only come in the form of Chelsea’s return to his life, and in that case, he would be right back where he began, too old to marry her. In those moments of clarity, he could at least give God a break. What did he expect God to do, turn back the clock so that he might never have known her? As excruciatingly painful as the season was, he knew if given the chance to do things over, he would still choose knowing and loving her. Or did he expect God to make him stop loving Chelsea? John by no means wanted that. Loving her was the single best thing that ever happened to him. Church and thoughts of God left him most often in a quandary. Still, sitting in a pew, at times anyway, felt an infinitesimal bit more peaceful than not. So he went.
After he left his parents’, he went through every emotion, from anger and resentment toward God, to regret and denial of what was right. Many times he considered that “change of mind” that tempted him at the beach. All it would take was to give in and call her. He knew if he did, the pain would end. Alone at night, working late in an empty office building, he would stop, stare at his phone, and sometimes pick it up. For her sake, though, he would set it back on the desk. Once, in anger he threw the phone and had to have Irene pick up another one the next day. Even though he was not at all who he was before knowing Chelsea, neither was he the man he was while with her. In this current season, he hardly knew who he was at all. He was simply lost.
As desperate as he felt, he often wondered if Chelsea was struggling as much. To think of her living with the kind of pain he felt was what prevented him from sleeping many nights. In the beginning, he would lie in bed, her bed, and stare at the ceiling, wondering where she’d moved and where she was sleeping. After her graduation, he would envision her in her bedroom back in Oklahoma. It was still decorated from her high school years, an uncomfortable reminder of how young she was still and that he was old enough to be her dad. He tried to envision her in the new house, but somehow, had difficulty placing her there in his mind. If she was hurting as he was, was her current pain not worth experiencing in order to give her a better future? Such thoughts allowed him to keep his resolve.
John slid his finger beneath the edge of the paper hiding his new Bible. When he had it opened and lying there on his lap, he saw that it was just like hers, same color, same size, only she had his name engraved on the bottom right corner. Tracing his finger along the letters, he wondered what it was like for her to buy him something so personal after all he’d done to her. Most likely, she never thought of it that way. Knowing her the way he did, she probably didn’t hold him responsible at all.
From the very beginning, he held her at arm’s length, often in ways that hurt her. Many times he reminded them both that they were only temporary, causing her to feel disposable. At great detriment, he allowed himself to love her, and he gave her hope where there was none. She was right, he did everything in his power to cause her to love him in return, and then when she did, he devastated her. As if she were saying it then, he could hear her question at Christmas. “You are not going to change your mind, are you?” It echoed in his mind, reminding him of just how selfish he had been. Maybe if he’d ended it earlier, it would have spared her some of the pain. That night, when she said it would hurt then or later, he knew that later would cause greater harm, but he continued on anyway. The truth was he didn’t want to let her go, so he held on until that very last moment. Purely out of selfishness, he stayed with her because the thought of letting go so terrified him.
Honoring their agreement, she walked away, just as she knew he wanted. Without asking him to change his mind, she did exactly as he asked of her and left him in the night. After all he’d done to cause her such heartache, he owed it to her to do this one thing. He would do anything she asked of him, no matter the cost or consequence.
At the mere thought of pursuing God, he again felt the sense of a tremor rumbling as he first felt in Sydney while with her at church. It was stronger than before and something he could still hardly identify. Deep in his heart, he had a feeling that nothing would ever be the same if he opened the Book in his hands. And for that reason, he stood with it, walked over to the piano, and placed it there. He wasn’t ready, or more truthfully, he wasn’t willing, not yet.
It was just after two a.m. and John lay there staring up at the ceiling. Chelsea’s request was still fresh on his mind, and the fact that he set the Bible aside without reading it bothered him. It was just a Bible. What was the big deal? He wondered. He had read a Bible from the time he could read until he left home. Maybe not while alone, since he never really saw the point, but he read in the evenings with his parents. They set that time aside every night; it was never optional. He read the Bible in Sunday school and during church, following along with whatever the preacher was talking about. So what harm could it possibly do to read it each day as she asked? If she asked something so simple, he could at least comply.
Getting out of bed, he went into the living room and sat at her piano. Sliding the cover over the keys, he placed the Bible there and opened to the New Testament. As he read the first few words of Matthew, John thought back to their trip to Sydney. It was there that he first realized she read her Bible every morning without fail. While she never really mentioned it, it was just part of her routine, part of who she was. Before or after breakfast, she took that time alone to read and pray. Knowing Chelsea would be up in a few hours and would undoubtedly be reading her Bible, John decided he would set time aside in the morning to read his too. In some small way, it was as if he found a way to connect with her once again. Now, more than just because she asked him to, John had a reason to open her gift to him each and every day. Without question, he would. Together, apart, they would read.
Over the next few months, the friendship between Tuck and Chelsea only became stronger. Like when they were kids, they joked and played around, teasing each other mercilessly at every opportunity. Since the evening weather had gotten too chilly to walk for ice cream, at least once a week Chelsea had Lucy and Tuck over for hot cocoa. Lucy often sat with Chelsea and played at her baby grand piano. To Lucy, playing such an instrument was like stroking a kitten, she once said. It seemed to require her to be much gentler than her piano at
home. Chelsea could hardly hide her smile at such a comparison. Once, Lucy invited herself over to spend the night and slept in Chelsea’s bedroom with her.
It was that night that Lucy first saw John’s picture, eliciting much curiosity. “So is he your boyfriend?” Lucy asked with a grimace.
Lifting one of the photos, staring into John’s eyes, Chelsea had to admit, “He was my boyfriend. Not now.”
When Chelsea turned back to look at Lucy, she could see she was clearly contemplating how to most delicately give her opinion.
Finally Lucy said, “I don’t think we can call him a boy. He’s somebody’s dad; I’m pretty sure.”
Giggling, Chelsea informed her, “Actually, he could be someone’s granddad. But you know what, Lucy? I love him with all my heart. When you love someone, I don’t think it matters how old they are or what they look like. I think what really matters is their heart. John has a wonderful heart.”
Lucy looked a little sad. “I’m sorry then that you lost him.”
“Me too.” It was then that Lucy leaned over to hug her. Chelsea stroked her hair, and for the first time in a very long time, cried for a minute.
While most of their time together included Lucy, occasionally Tuck would show up alone. Having become her official handyman, he often did odd jobs around the house, hanging pictures, fixing a leaky pipe, and cleaning gutters. None of it was significant, but it was nice to have him around to help. Certainly she could have asked her dad to help around the house. As happy as he was that she was home, he would have come by daily if she asked. He and her mom were over often enough as it was. Since having her own home, her favorite pastime had become entertaining. When the entire family came, as they would all do soon for Thanksgiving, Chelsea found that she was happiest then with all the noise and chaos that they brought with them. It would be her first holiday in her home and already she was making plans for it.
