The Seat Beside Me

by Nancy Moser

  A teenage girl who was huddled at a computer popped up when she saw Eden. “Can I see you, Mrs. Moore?”

  “Certainly, Maria.” Eden looked around. The girl was the only one there. “You minding the store for me?”

  “Bobby had to go get copy paper. He’ll be right back.”

  Eden nodded. “That’s nice of you to stay, but don’t you have a seventh period class?”

  “Mr. Bates let me out early because I said I was coming here to talk to you.”

  “Nice try, young lady,” Eden said, taking a seat behind a desk, “but next time stay in school until regular dismissal. You know I’m here for you anytime, and school comes first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now sit, girl.” She turned to Sonja. “Care to join us?”

  Sonja pulled a chair to the side of the desk while the girl sat across from Eden. The radio was on. Eden shut it off and turned her full attention to Maria. “What’s on your mind?”

  Maria looked at Sonja. “I can’t talk with her …”

  Eden smacked a hand to her forehead. “I must have left my manners in the car.” She made the introductions, and Maria nodded as if reassured that Eden’s friend Sonja was all right. She seemed totally unimpressed that Sonja had lived through a plane crash. Perhaps Maria had lived through some “plane crashes” of her own.

  The girl twirled a strand of hair around her finger, revealing an ear that had been pierced four times. “I want to go to college, like you said I should.”

  “Should and could, depending on your grades. How are they? You doing your best? You’re not still having trouble in history, are you?”

  Maria took a deep breath as if unsure which question to answer.

  Sonja broke the silence. “You need a notepad to keep track of her questions, don’t you?”

  Maria laughed. Eden feigned irritation with a hand on her hip. “Two against one. No fair.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Moore. Luckily the answer to all your questions is the same. I’m doing good. Real fine. Mr. Moore quizzing me with those names and dates helped tons.” She looked up, aghast. “Oh! Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned—”

  “Of course you should have mentioned Roscoe, dear. I want you to mention him often and with joy. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “If your grades are good, then what’s the problem?”

  The girl adjusted her bottom in the chair. “Mama says I don’t need to go to no college; I shouldn’t even think of it. She says it doesn’t matter I’m good at math. She doesn’t see why I need to take any calculus or differential equations or stuff like that. She says nobody uses that junk. She says the only math a body needs is adding and subtracting. The rest is for highbrow snobs.”

  Sonja had to intervene again. “You actually like calculus?”

  “I’ve only had precalc, but yeah, I like it a lot. I like the way the numbers fit together with only one right answer.”

  Sonja sat back in her chair. “I admire you.”

  The girl’s eyebrows raised. “Me?”

  “Absolutely. I’m one of those people who can’t balance her checkbook. You’re one of those who can send a man to Mars, or invent a machine that can see inside our body, or design a tunnel under the English Channel, or … lots of neat things.”

  “With a math degree I could do that?”

  “Of course you—” Sonja realized she’d taken over the conversation. She looked at Eden. “I’m sorry; I’m supposed to be a silent observer here.”

  Eden smiled. “Who says?”

  “But I’m just visiting.”

  “Are you?”

  “What?”

  Eden winked at Maria and turned her chair to face Sonja. “It appears that you, Sonja Grafton, have a talent for inspiring kids to use their talents.”

  “What?”

  Eden laughed. “You didn’t have a clue you could do this. Am I right?”

  Sonja was at a loss. “Me? Inspiring?”

  Maria smiled. “Yes, Ms. Grafton, you. Until now I never really thought about what I could do with a degree in math. Everybody always told me what I could be—you know, a teacher or an accountant or a scientist. And I told my mom those jobs, and she just looked at me like she didn’t get it. But if I tell her I could work on the space shuttle or in medicine or design a tunnel.” She moved to the edge of her seat, her eyes flashing. “She’d get that. She could understand that. And if I did that kind of thing, she’d.” Her voice broke. “She’d be so proud of me.” She looked up at Eden and Sonja. “I just want her to be proud of me.”

  Sonja felt her heart melt with empathy. Earning the approval of parents. It was a universal quest.

  Maria stood, leaned over, and hugged Sonja, taking her totally by surprise. “Thank you, Ms. Grafton. You helped tons.”

  This was so unexpected. “You’re welcome.”

  Then she gave Eden a hug and left. Eden rocked in her chair, grinning.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “This look is for you, dear Sonja, and is full of pure joy at seeing God’s handiwork.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She stopped rocking and drilled a finger into her desk for emphasis. “God brought you here. To me. To Maria. He gave you an opportunity to share your expertise. You took it, and made one girl very, very happy.”

  “But I didn’t share any expertise.”

  “Sure you did. You have a fine organizational mind that sees through a problem and zeroes in on a practical answer. You are straightforward, honest, and inspiring.”

  Honest? Sonja wondered what Eden would think about her “honest” dealings with Geraldine. “I thank you for your encouragement, but I’m not the inspiring type. Honest.”

  “Sure you are. You were just too consumed with other things to see it. Our job here at The Talent Track is twofold: to help the kids tap in to their God-given gifts and talents and to give them practical advice about how to use them. Turn them toward God and then turn them loose on the world to make it a better place.” She scooted her chair toward Sonja’s, not stopping until their knees nearly touched. She took Sonja’s hands in hers. “You’re supposed to stay in Phoenix, Sonja. I feel it. You’re supposed to stay here and work with me.”

  Sonja pulled her hands away. “I couldn’t … I …”

  “You have some other plans?”

  Back home she was faced with no job and humiliating disgrace. Here, there was a chance to start fresh. But the idea was crazy, totally out of left field, out of the question. Besides … Sonja looked around the minimal office. Eden followed her gaze.

  “I know it’s not much—yet. But Roscoe and I had big plans. We need to stay in the neighborhood. We realize that, but we planned to expand our services. We wanted to have a talent day at schools and offer some job-skills classes. All the talent in the world won’t do these kids much good if they don’t know how to fill out a job application or carry on an intelligent conversation in an interview.”

  “But back home … my apartment, my.” She hesitated, but then remembered Eden’s vow of honesty. “My things. How could you pay me enough?”

  Eden nodded. “There’s the rub. The ever elusive enough.”

  “I had plans, big plans.”

  “I understand. Plans for promotions and raises and bigger apartments and maybe even a house?”

  “Is that bad?”

  Eden shrugged. “There was once a rich man who came up to Jesus and asked Him what he had to do to get into heaven. He’d been a good man and had followed all the commandments. But Jesus told him if he wanted to be perfect, he had to sell all his stuff and give it to the poor. Then he’d have treasure in heaven. Only then could he follow Him.”

  “Whoa. Tough order.”

  “It wasn’t an order. It was an opportunity.”

  “What did the rich man do?”

  “He couldn’t do it. He went away sad because he was very rich.”

  Sonja supported her cast with her f
ree hand. “That’s what you and Roscoe did, isn’t it? That’s what you meant by surrender. You gave it up and followed Him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “Never.”

  “Would I regret it?”

  “You’ll never know until you try, will you? Until you surrender.”

  “But I don’t know Him.”

  Eden smiled. “Oh, you will. Make a decision like this, and you will.”

  Anthony left work early, telling his staff he was feeling the aftereffects of the crash—not confiding that his inability to work was caused by the threat of a lawsuit. But even that was only half the truth, for niggling at Anthony’s body and mind was something completely foreign to him: guilt.

  Did I make a mistake?

  People make mistakes all the time.

  But you don’t.

  But what if I did?

  Impossible.

  But what if?

  The car behind him honked. The light had turned green.

  Snap out of it. So your pride was hurt when the patient went to Burrows. Wouldn’t you rather another doctor step in than the patient’s hand be ruined for life?

  “Not really.”

  Anthony was shocked to hear his own voice. He’d heard of people talking to themselves, but giving themselves verbal arrogant answers?

  He remembered Andrea’s words: “You’re arrogant.”

  Was he? Had the character trait he attributed to confidence and determination turned into arrogance? Or had it always been arrogance, which he handily masked as those more admirable traits?

  The man’s a concert pianist.

  If he’d only known.

  Nope. He couldn’t get away with that one. As a doctor he was supposed to treat all patients the same. No matter what. A rich socialite or a man hurt in a bar fight.

  Anthony turned into his neighborhood, eager to get home, shut the door, and hide out. He knew the best thing to do would be to call Patrick Harper. Show concern. Mend fences.

  He rejected the idea.

  Why was it so hard to do the right thing? It was as if there were a wall between him and the right way, and he couldn’t break through it. As if the path were before him but his shoes were bolted to the floor. He was deeply rooted in the self-image he had so meticulously created. To break away would be as painful as cutting off an appendage, and yet to remain where he was promised a kind of suffocation. Had arrogance been his air?

  He was so preoccupied with his inner struggle that he barely looked beyond the bumper of his car. When he finally looked up as he closed in on his house, he was shocked to see his front yard covered with reporters, TV vans, cars, cameras, and microphones.

  “There he is!”

  Before he could think to stop, much less put the car in reverse or turn around, Anthony was surrounded by the media attention he’d craved. He locked the doors. But that didn’t stop the words from reaching him.

  “What’s your response to the lawsuit by Patrick Harper?”

  “Is it true you refused to do the necessary surgery that could have saved his hand?”

  “What is your response to the comments of Dr. Edward Burrows regarding your negligence?”

  “Is it true you once said you were saved from the crash of Flight 1382 because you deserved to live more than the victims who died? Is that the real reason you took the lifeline that wasn’t meant for you?”

  Anthony felt as if he were going to throw up. He pushed on the accelerator, forcing the reporters to make way. He drove into his garage and shut the door even before he shut off the engine. He escaped into his house, locking the doors. He closed the blinds.

  Then he fell into his leather chair with the matching ottoman, which sat next to his Remington statue and beneath his Andrew Wyeth print. He didn’t turn on a light to illuminate his surroundings. He might never turn a light on again.

  No comment. No comment.

  David was coming over for another dinner, and Tina wanted to make everything perfect. They had a lot to celebrate. More than she’d ever dreamed.

  He’d called to see how her meeting with Grandpa Carpelli had gone, and she told him everything—about that conversation. But not about the rest of her morning. And not about the other decision that had evolved throughout the day. She’d save those two surprises for dinner.

  It was hard for Tina to tear herself away from reading one of her new books in order to cook. In fact, she had the book with her in the kitchen and opened it whenever the responsibility of cooking gave her a free moment. She loved books, and now, with her new job, her life could be books.

  Tina adjusted her crutch for balance so she could open the oven to check on the cherry pie. The aroma engulfed the room, the cherries bubbling through the slits. Perfect. She took it out and checked on the roast, potatoes, and carrots in the Crock-Pot. Also perfect.

  She heard a knock on the front door and then it opened. “Honey, I’m home!”

  She used to be annoyed at David’s reference to marital domesticity. But not tonight. Not anymore.

  She hobbled to meet him, flung her arms around his neck, and lost her balance, nearly toppling them to the floor.

  “Whoa, Tina!” David said, recovering from her kiss. “You should have breakfast with Italian grandfathers more often.”

  She felt herself blush. “I intend to. I like him. We’re going to get together again.”

  David flung his coat over the back of the couch. “Should I be jealous?” She kissed him again, softer this time. It took him a moment to open his eyes. “I guess not.”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  He reached for her hand. “Please note that I’m not complaining, but I am curious as to what’s got into you. You mentioned a surprise and a decision? They must be doozies.”

  “They are.”

  “And?”

  She glanced toward the kitchen. Everything was under control. Why not tell him now? She led him to the couch and they sat. She angled her body toward his.

  “First off, the surprise. I got a job this afternoon.”

  His eyes blinked his surprise. “Already? Where?”

  “At a Christian bookstore.”

  “Not teaching?”

  “Not teaching.”

  He looked past her, letting it sink in. “You do read more than anyone I know. You love books. But what made you apply there?”

  “I didn’t go in with any intention of applying. I wanted some new books to celebrate my breakfast with Vincent and happened to drive by that store. I bought some books, saw the help-wanted sign, interviewed with the manager, and I got the job. Assistant manager.”

  He laughed. “Assistant …? How’d you manage that?”

  “I’d say it was my blazing credentials, but it wasn’t. I think it’s a God-thing. I think this is what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Not teach? Never again?”

  “I can’t say never, but I can’t ignore the fact that this feels so right. To deal with people who like to read. To share my passion with them—for God and books.”

  “Sounds like your life is nearly perfect.”

  “It is. Nearly.” She looked away from him, gathering her strength. Is this really what I want? Now’s my chance to back out … She looked up and saw him watching her. She took both his hands in hers. “I love you, David. Will you marry me?”

  She wished she had a camera. The look on his face. His eyes widened in total shock, his jaw dropped, and he let out a short expulsion of breath. She thought of making a joke but restrained herself. This was a moment they would remember all their lives.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely.”

  “What brought this on?”

  That was hard to explain, but she had to try. “I’ve resisted the idea of marrying you—of marrying anyone—because I felt unsure of myself. I grew up with people making fun of me for my weight, my brains, my obsession with books. I think I became a teacher out of spite. To get revenge
on all the teenagers who made my growing-up years miserable and all the teachers who didn’t come to my defense.”

  “Teaching shouldn’t be a form of revenge.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I wasn’t good at it. And, as with all forms of revenge, it backfired the most on me, the instigator. And the more I hated the job, the more I hated myself, and the more unlovable I felt.” She touched his knee. “Truthfully, I felt unsure about being loved by you—as if I wasn’t good enough.”

  “Don’t say such—”

  She stopped him. “And I wasn’t good enough. Mostly because I couldn’t love you in return. But Mallory changed all that. Her interest in me, and then the crash and the larger kind of love those rescuers showed for me, and the hero’s love for me.” She caught a tear before it escaped. “What I learned this morning with Vincent was that God allows our failures. He loves us in spite of them. He loves me so much I think He led me to the Christian bookstore, and He made the timing perfect for me to get a job there. If I hadn’t quit my job yesterday, David.” She shook her head at the implications. “It’s all worked out as it should have worked out—as He wanted it to work out.” She smiled at his puzzled expression. “Ah, David, you’re the last piece of the puzzle. I’m sure now. I’m flawed but finally willing to try. Will you take me?”

  He said yes without saying a word.

  “I’ve never had popcorn for dinner before,” Merry said.

  George handed her a heaping bowl. “Then you’ve missed out on one of the highlights of life.” He sat at the other end of her couch. “I put extra butter on it. You need a little meat on you.”

  Merry knew she’d lost weight. Her kitchen was still full of food offerings, but she didn’t feel like eating much. And yet the smell of freshly popped popcorn made her taste buds dance in anticipation. She ate a handful and sighed.

  “Hits the spot, doesn’t it?”

  “I feel guilty for not eating all the food people brought.”

  “It’ll keep. Freeze some. Throw some out. Or have some friends over for a feast.”