by Max Lucado
“One million sounds fair, don’t you think?” she bluffed.
“One million sounds fair,” Dennis replied without flinching.
Chelsea gulped her iced tea.
“Of course, in whatever scenario, the God Blog stays with the café,” Dennis said.
“Of course. But you know it’s not me pulling those strings.”
“Then we hire whoever is. Or replace them. Your customers might not even know the difference. As I said, any number of scenarios. In the meantime, you do have a security system, right?”
“I guess I should, but I don’t. The router is just tucked in a pantry next to the napkins and coffee beans.”
“I wouldn’t worry. My bigger point is this . . . Be wise. Protect yourself from anything or anyone who might be a taker, as I like to call them. I think Chelsea Chambers has a bright future ahead. An open road full of possibilities.”
“I . . . Well . . . I dunno . . .”
Dennis gave Chelsea’s hand a comforting squeeze. “A lot to think about, I know. I only hope you give this the consideration it deserves.”
A future with possibilities. A million dollars. That luscious grin.
That night Chelsea baked into the wee hours, sorting her thoughts into luscious layers of cake. Espresso, crème brûlèe, mocha, amandine . . .
Every scenario she considered seemed more delicious than the one before. She didn’t know how many layers she would bake into this cake, but she couldn’t wait to taste it.
Chapter 32
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.
Chelsea studied the words, stiff and formal on the page, disconnected from the emotions and complexities they demanded. She slid the document back into the legal envelope, attempting the same art of detachment. Today was a day for celebrating. It was Hancock’s birthday.
She thought back to the first time she’d held her son, with Sawyer by her side. She had never felt so accomplished, so full of hope. Today when she looked at Hancock, she felt the same. Only different. Chelsea felt as though she had reached the peak of a mountain, only to discover she had merely been climbing the foothills. There was a long way to go before she’d be looking down from a mountaintop.
Time to conqueror that fear of heights.
Chelsea crept upstairs with a confetti cupcake covered by a spiral of candles. Thirteen, to be exact. She and Emily woke Hancock with the birthday song and blowing out of candles per the annual tradition. It was a family rule that on birthdays, dessert always came first. After a sweet appetizer, she and the kids walked to Hancock’s favorite breakfast spot, leaving Manny and Katrina to hold down the fort, so they could enjoy a full day of celebration.
In previous years Hancock’s birthdays had been full of over-the-top festivities. For his tenth birthday, Sawyer rented a jet and flew Hancock and his friends to opening day at Yankee Stadium before ending the night riding roller coasters on Coney Island. Sawyer was the king of extravagant surprises, but today Chelsea had one of her own in the works, albeit far humbler.
It was the perfect day to be outside. The spring air was just on the chilly side of perfect, and the birds seemed to be singing about it. The trio rented a horse-drawn carriage and told the driver to take his time. They moseyed through downtown San Antonio until they reached the Alamo.
Hancock loved the mission. Colonel Travis. Bowie. Crockett. Flashing sabres and blasting cannons—he loved every minute. Emily, on the other hand, got hungry. Chelsea suggested the Pig Stand.
It was another San Antonio icon, a good old-fashioned American establishment that had been wooing local diners with its greasy-spoon appeal and kitschy decor since the 1920s. In the summers, the parking lot of the Pig Stand doubled as a doo-wop era dance floor in the evenings, but on this sunny spring day Chelsea entered the diner and enjoyed jukebox rock’n’roll.
Sara, Tony, and Bo were waiting for them at a vinyl-covered table complete with gifts and balloons. After a dozen hugs and “happy birthdays,” Bo gave Hancock a set of tools and a navy leather Bible with his name on it. Sara and Tony gave him a special-edition set of the original Star Wars trilogy. Next came a round of “pig sandwiches” so tender and juicy they should have been served with bibs.
After lunch, Chelsea and the kids piled into Sara and Tony’s van and set off for their next destination.
“No peeking!” Emily gleefully scolded her brother, who was tugging at the blindfold they had fastened around his head.
“Are we there yet?” Hancock asked.
“Gettin’ closer!” Tony called from the driver’s seat.
This conversation was repeated five more times before the van pulled to a stop. Chelsea helped Hancock out of the car and led him about fifteen steps before a heavy rumbling followed by a distant wave of shrill screams and nervous laughter gave their location away.
“Fiesta Texas!” Hancock exclaimed, ripping the blindfold from his eyes.
The sprawling amusement park had been built into the side of an old rock quarry when Chelsea was a teenager.
“So, what do you think?” she asked as they approached.
“Awesome!” Hancock exclaimed. “Can we ride the Poltergeist?”
“You better believe we’re going to ride it!”
“Dad!” Hancock zigzagged through a tour group from the Netherlands and into the arms of Sawyer.
“Happy Birthday! Surprised?”
Hancock nearly nodded his head off. “Totally! But how—” He looked over at his mom.
“Who am I to break tradition?” she said with a shrug.
Hancock unhinged himself from Sawyer’s side and wrapped Chelsea in a big bear hug. “Thanks, Mom,” he said.
Chelsea brushed his hair out of his eyes and laid a kiss on his forehead. And he didn’t even flinch.
“Happy Birthday, Son,” she said before revealing one last surprise. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to ride the Poltergeist!”
All heads snapped to Chelsea.
“You’re going to ride the Poltergeist?” Sawyer asked, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline.
“Maybe even twice,” Chelsea said, fending off a serious case of collywobbles with a smug smile. “So who’s going with me?”
Chapter 33
The café was bustling. Good thing Manny was dressed for business. His jean overall shorts and Converse high-tops provided him a boost of casual comfort, which came in handy now that the weather was warming and the café had expanded into the sunroom. More customers plus more rooms equaled more steps in a day.
After the midday rush he collapsed into a chair and reflected on how much he missed his wings, or at least what humans called wings. He chuckled at the thought of how humans pictured angels. Tall women in silky white choir robes. Gladiators with bird wings. Or, his personal favorite, fat naked babies with even tinier bird wings. It’s no wonder his fellow angels had to wear these human disguises. Without his Manny disguise, the patrons of Higher Grounds Café would be screaming in terror. Chelsea wouldn’t like that.
Especially not with one of her favorite customers. Marcus was back at the café for the second time that week, and Chelsea had given Manny strict instructions to spoil the kid as much as possible without his catching on. Today this included two hot chocolates and a bag of almond croissants.
“Hope you stop by again soon!” Manny walked Marcus to the door, partly out of hospitality, but also to get another glimpse of the curious scene unfolding beneath the large bay window at the café’s entrance.
Soft afternoon light haloed Katrina and her Uncle Frank and bounced off the stainless steel surfaces of Frank’s wheelchair. Between Frank’s signature fedora and his niece’s checkerboard dress, the trendy pair looked rather at odds with their quaint surroundings. But they had made themselves at home in the nook, where they had been perusing the God Blog for hours.
“Hey, Manny,” Katrina said, sensing his presence for the umpteenth time. “You mind getting us a couple more of those scones?”
; Manny heated two vanilla bean scones in a hurry, eager to reclaim his front row seat to their conversation. He found the exchange between believer and skeptic most enlightening. The casual observer would have certainly pegged Frank as the skeptic. According to Katrina, he had every reason to be.
“I was there when it happened,” she had told him. “I saw the horse throw him. The moment he hit the ground I knew.” Though five years had passed, the grief on Katrina’s face was fresh, her emotions uncharacteristically visible. “And the worst part is,” she continued, “it was my fault. If it weren’t for me, he would have never been out that day.”
For a brief moment, Manny had wondered if he was looking at Katrina from heaven’s view. He could see guilt and pain flooding her eyes, but as soon as the question surfaced in his mind, she had blinked back a wave of emotion and her gaze was determined, distant. The window had closed. But Manny knew it would open again.
“What did I miss?” he asked, returning with the plate of scones.
“I’m doing it, Manny. I’m taking Uncle Frank’s wager. Asking the God Blog a question.” Katrina clicked away on her smartphone screen as she read her question aloud.
“Will you show me a sign? Please. Sincerely, Katherine Lorraine Phillips”
She put her phone down and looked at Frank. “I figure, if it really is God, I should use my proper name.”
A moment later, Katherine Lorraine Phillips received her answer. She read it aloud.
“Dearest Katrina.
Ha! He used my preferred name!
What a delight to hear from you! Now I have a question for you. Would you be willing to take a step of faith? Also I would love to talk to you more often. Love, God.”
“So, what’s it gonna be?” asked Frank.
Katrina’s eyes drifted off into space. She chewed her lip and twirled her dyed red hair.
Manny grinned. Over the centuries he had witnessed the transformation of innumerable honest, humble seekers. He remembered loaves and fishes and too many mouths to feed. The stirring of Bethesda’s pool. Katrina? He sensed the winds of change beginning to blow.
Katrina stared at her uncle, and a smile stretched across her face.
“Oh no,” Frank said. “No, no, no, no, no. You think of a different one.”
“Why?”
“Because!” Frank shouted. “I stopped making this request three years ago. And believe me, I asked with all the faith I could muster. I know I’ll walk again. In heaven.”
“Don’t make this about you, Uncle Frank. This is my prayer. My step of faith.” Katrina looked to Manny, who had become the resident God Blog expert. “Tell us what to do.”
Manny pulled up a chair and sat across from his coworker. He spoke with a confident tone. “Ask,” he told her. “Ask with faith, faith that God will hear you and faith that God will do what is best.”
“What is best? Wouldn’t it be best for Uncle Frank to walk again?”
“It certainly seems so, Katrina. But prayer isn’t asking God to do what we want. Prayer is asking God to do what is right.”
Katrina looked back at Manny with a confused expression.
Manny glanced over at Frank. He was smiling.
“Frank,” Manny said, “you get this, don’t you?”
“I do, Manny.” He smiled. “I’ve come to peace with my lot in life. God hasn’t healed my body, but he has done a good work on my heart.” Frank paused and looked at his niece. “Still, I am open to miracles.”
Katrina’s face brightened. “So am I, Uncle Frank.”
Katrina glanced at Manny. He nodded. She took a deep breath and knelt beside her uncle. “I want you to ask with me too, okay?”
Frank’s eyes welled with tears.
Manny leaned in.
“I think I remember how this works,” Katrina said. “Now take off your hat, bow your head, and close your eyes.” Katrina gripped her uncle’s hands and squeezed like she was hanging on for dear life. “Dear God . . .”
Manny’s eyes were wide with wonder. Rarely had he seen such an honest, selfless display of faith. Could this be the reason Katrina was drawn to the café? Manny clenched his fists, adding his own faith and hope to Katrina’s prayers.
“I ask you to heal my Uncle Frank. I want to see him walk again. Please.”
Katrina looked up. Frank’s chin was quivering with emotion.
“I took my step of faith. Now you take yours.”
Frank looked at Manny, then back at Katrina. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Frank clenched his jaw and summoned his courage. He squeezed the arms of his wheelchair and began to push himself upward. As Katrina assisted Frank out of his chair, Marcus and a few onlookers gathered to witness the curious scene.
Katrina took one arm, Manny took the other. When Frank was standing, his legs began to wobble.
“Son,” he said to Marcus, “pull my chair back.”
Marcus hurried over and took the chair.
With the chair gone, Frank raised himself even straighter. “I’m ready.” Manny and Katrina released their grips. Frank stepped, and began to fall. They grabbed him.
“It’s okay,” he said, once stabilized. “It’s just been a while. Let me try again.”
Manny looked around the café. The handful of patrons were silent. Their faces were hopeful. No sound at all, then a rush of air, a flash of light. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something, or someone, on the porch. Manny looked out the open front door.
But he didn’t look long.
“I’m ready,” Frank announced. This time he all but yanked himself free from their grip. He took a step, then another, then another. Straight across the room. After six steps he leaned against a table and looked back at Katrina. His face was awash with tears.
So was hers.
“God heard our prayer, Uncle Frank,” she smiled.
He smiled in return. “He always has, Katrina. He always has.”
Chapter 34
Chelsea lasted for three of Sawyer and Hancock’s thirteen trips on the Poltergeist. If someone had told her a month ago that she and Sawyer would be riding roller coasters together at an amusement park, she would have been anything but amused. A month ago she could not stand the thought of Sawyer. Today his presence wasn’t even bothering her. And that bothered her.
Chelsea was relieved to have Sara and Tony around as a buffer. “They say it’s the simple things in life that make you happy. But happiness is anything but simple. Just look at us,” Chelsea said to Sara as they watched Sawyer and Tony help Hancock and Emily launch rubber frogs onto metal lily pads in hopes of winning a giant unicorn. Hancock had already claimed an oversized octopus with tentacles that had just begun to glow in the dark.
Hancock and Emily were never as happy as when their dad was around, and nothing made Chelsea happier than seeing her children thrive. As much as she tried to distance herself from Sawyer, her happiness would always be tied to him.
“Sawyer seems to be doing really well these days,” Sara said. “You know he told Tony he’s been talking to one of his pastor friends in Austin?”
“Good for him,” Chelsea said. “I want him to be better, ya know? For the kids.”
“Score!” Sawyer’s cheer carried over to the breezy cabana where Chelsea and Sara were waiting. Hancock’s frog had landed smack-dab on the middle of a lily pad.
“We won, Mom!” Emily waved her trophy like a true champion.
“Impressive!” Chelsea called as the group came to join them.
“Mom, can we stay for the fireworks? Dad said we need to ask you,” Emily said.
“Well, Uncle Tony and Aunt Sara probably have to get home to the babysitter. Plus they have church tomorrow.”
“Well, maybe Dad could take us home?” Hancock asked.
“Well . . .” Chelsea scanned the group for reactions. Everyone was nodding.
Thanks for the moral support, Sara.
“Okay . . . if you’re sure that’s okay?” she asked Sawyer.
“I’d be
happy to be your chauffeur,” he said, dipping his head in a bow.
Emily curtsied. “Gracias, señor.”
“I guess that’s settled then,” Chelsea said. But she wasn’t feeling so settled inside. This was the first time they had been together, just the four of them, since the separation. She didn’t want the kids to get the wrong idea. Or Sawyer either, for that matter.
Their last exchange drifted through her head more than once as the evening progressed.
I have every reason I need to divorce you.
I know you do, but I’m going to keep hoping you don’t.
Would he feel the same way after she delivered the divorce papers? Chelsea knew she could do life alone. She had proven it to herself and to everyone else. But did she want to?
She banished the thought as soon as it entered her mind, blaming the elaborate fireworks and lack of adult company. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore. After all, she had options. Dennis Darling told her she had an open road. Full of possibilities!
“There are a lot of really great opportunities right now,” Sawyer said as they cruised down the highway, kids snoozing in the backseat. “In both Austin and San Antonio.”
Chelsea had not seen Sawyer this enthused in a long time. At least not over anything so unremarkable. It was strange how the tables had turned. Here Sawyer was in the middle of a job hunt, while she was running a successful business. A million-dollar business.
“I always knew I wanted to get into coaching,” he continued. “I just wasn’t ready to humble myself and do it. But this might be the hard reset I need for my life. Plus I can be nearby, you know? As close as you want me to be.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Chelsea said.
Wait, what am I saying? Close isn’t wonderful.
Sawyer’s magnetic field was scrambling the data, so neatly stored and sorted in her brain. “Austin would be a great fit,” she said.
And a forty-minute drive at least.
