The Unwanted Assistant

by Evangeline Kelly

  I can’t stop watching her when she thinks I’m not looking. She has this amazing quality that broke down the barrier between us, the one thing that made me sit up and take notice—her kindness. She doesn’t realize how valuable it is to me. If she only saw herself through my eyes, she’d know she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. She isn't aware of this yet, but I’m falling in love with her.

  And then he wrote this:

  How would a relationship with her ever work? I know what I’m feeling is more than infatuation because all I want is what’s best for her—even if what’s best for her isn’t me.

  With every word, my heart felt as if it was being twisted and wrung out like an old rag.

  I hate myself for what I did, but it had to be done. I watched her from an upstairs window as she walked to her car. If firing her was the right thing to do, why do I feel like such a monster? Seeing her tears nearly undid me. The pain in my chest is crushing, suffocating. I can’t breathe. I curse the day I ever met her.

  The next day he wrote:

  I didn’t mean what I said. How could I say that when she brought light to my gloom? Thank you, Lord, for giving me that time with her even though it was fleeting. She was a beautiful gift, a once-in-a-lifetime gift, and I’ll never forget her.

  As I flipped through the pages, my eyes were running faucets, my hands wet from wiping tears. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly four in the morning. The next day would be busy: classes, errands, studying for an exam, but I refused to put the journal away, not when there was more to read. So, I continued on.

  I can’t eat, I can't sleep, and I can't stop thinking about her. I’m like a drug-addicted man, going through withdrawal, only she’s my drug. Maybe I should convince her to come back, tell her I’m sorry and that it was all a big mistake. Anything to end this sadness. No. I have to stay focused. I WILL think about what’s best for her.

  And then he wrote about a conversation he had with Hayden where he came to a new conclusion.

  I’m an idiot, motivated by fear and stubbornness. I thought I was being selfless by letting her go, but I was in denial. Hayden saw through me. It was easier to push her away than to fix the areas of my life that were lacking.

  The next few entries spoke about his desire to make things right.

  Her car accident woke me up. I want to live a life that’s honoring to the Lord and be the man He wants me to be. I’m ready to be the man Ivy needs.

  He wrote about our walks and his commitment to prove he’d be there for the long haul. His words conveyed the love in his heart that hadn’t died but had only grown stronger with each passing day. And then I came to this:

  Today she told me it hurt too much to be my friend. Said I needed to move on with my life. It feels like she’s slipping away.

  When I glanced at the clock again, it was 5:15 am. There was one last entry.

  Ivy, if you’ve made it this far, there’s one more thing I want to say. I know you’re afraid to trust me, and I can’t promise I won’t ever make a mistake again because I’m human and flawed and far from perfect. But I can tell you I’m committed to making it work between us. God’s showing me I can face my fears when I trust Him, and that trust is not only about feelings, but about actions and obedience. Hayden once told me there would be a day when I’d find a woman I didn’t want to live without. I didn’t believe him at the time, but now I know without a doubt—that woman is you. Come back to me, Ivy. I love you.

  I closed the journal and hugged it tight to my chest for one lingering moment, and then jumped to my feet and hastily put on clothes. Still holding on to the journal, I grabbed my keys and purse and flew out the door. I ran to my car and slid in, wondering if Sawyer would even be awake.

  By the time I got to his house, my stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering and my heart rate rattled through my chest like a jackhammer. It was still dark outside when I parked my car in the horseshoe driveway. Checking myself out in the rear-view mirror, I ran a hand through my hair, slightly horrified at the tangled strands. In my haste, I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair or wash my face.

  But I had to do this before I lost my nerve. I slid out of the car and jogged to the front door. A motion light came on, lighting up the porch. I pounded on the door and waited. There was no response. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was 5:30 am. Sawyer had given me a new key, but I’d forgotten it in my haste.

  I debated waiting in my car until Sawyer woke up when the door flew open. Sawyer stood in black sweats and a gray t-shirt. Hair in disarray, he blinked and squinted as if trying to wake up. “Ivy, what are you—”

  “I love you.” I didn’t wait for a response, but charged into him, arms wrapping around his waist, the side of my face buried in his chest. Like one of those stuffed monkeys with Velcro arms, I held onto him and didn’t know if I could ever let go.

  His arms came around me, and he rested his face against the top of my head. Holding me tight, he kissed my forehead. “I love you, too. So much.”

  We stood like that for a long time, both oblivious to the fact that we were allowing cold air to drift into his house. Or maybe we were just too caught up in each other to close the door. Finally, I pulled away and glanced up at his face, grinning. “I know it’s early. I hope you don’t mind that I woke you up.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m glad you came. My heart’s beating out of my chest right now.” He took my hand and placed it over his heart. It pulsed in a rapid staccato.

  “I read your journal.”

  “And?”

  “I couldn’t put it down. Stayed up all night reading.”

  He had a sharp intake of breath. “What does this mean, Ivy?”

  “It means . . . it means I’m ready to give us a second chance.”

  He lifted his gaze to the sky and whispered, “Thank you.”

  He kissed one side of my face and then the other. A long pause followed with only the sound of his shuddered breathing as he wrapped his arms around me again. “I stayed up late last night as well, praying God would work in both our lives. You have no idea how grateful I am He brought you back to me.”

  “I’m grateful, too, Sawyer. Very grateful.”

  “Just so we’re clear, you’re my girl now, right?”

  I smiled. “Yes, Sawyer, I’m yours. And I get to call you my boyfriend.”

  We spent the rest of the morning drinking hot cocoa and watching the sunrise from the swing on his back porch. Wrapped up in a blanket, I rested my head on his shoulder, and he held me close with his arm around me. Content to enjoy each other's company, we didn’t say anything else because words weren't needed.

  My heart was fuller than it had ever been.

  ***

  The next morning, I woke up tired but happy—exhausted, but running on adrenaline. I slid out of bed and threw on a pair of sweats, and then quickly styled my hair in a loose braid hanging over one shoulder. Sammie convinced me to go with her on a coffee run to the Spiced Coffee House. Initially, I told her I'd go another time, but she had been insistent so I gave in.

  As we walked out the door, Sammie grabbed a tiny white silk rose and slid it between the folds of my braid. “So cute.”

  I smiled. She was prone to acts of whimsy sometimes.

  “I am so happy it’s Friday,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “Do you have plans with Sawyer today?”

  “Yeah, we’re meeting this afternoon after my last class.”

  Yesterday, after watching the sunrise together, Sawyer and I went on a hike to the pond. I’d skipped out on a few classes, but I’d had good attendance, so it wouldn’t affect anything, and it was well worth it. Spending time with him again was even better now that we’d voiced our commitment.

  We got into her car and a few minutes later, we pulled into a parking space. Sammie glanced at me. “Hey, I need to make an important call. Do you mind going ahead and saving a table for us?”

  “Sure.” I opened the door of the vehi
cle and glanced back at her. “See you soon.”

  She nodded. “Just give me a minute.”

  I made my way to the coffee house, and when I pushed open the door, the aroma of coffee and hazelnut saturated the room, filling my nostrils with a pleasant scent. I breathed in and looked around. The place was bustling with people. A few students with University of Alabama sweatshirts stood in line while a small group of women in business suits waited for their orders to be completed on the other side of the counter.

  I snagged a table near the corner, just as a man in a gray sweater got up to leave. “It’s all yours,” he said. He picked up his coffee in one hand and then turned to me. “My wife and I met here for the first time. Sat at this very table. I try to grab it whenever I can.”

  “That’s really sweet,” I said, surprised he shared that bit of information with me.

  He laughed, half embarrassed. “This is a lucky table.”

  I did a double take, eyeing the table and location. Funny, it was the same table Tyler, and I had shared on that awful date. “I’m not too sure about that. I met a guy a while ago, and we sat at this table. It didn't go so well.”

  On second thought, perhaps it was lucky. If it had worked out with Tyler, I wouldn’t be with Sawyer.

  He appeared equally surprised at my admission. “Don’t lose hope. You may get lucky today.”

  I smiled and sat down, watching him as he made his way out the door. Interesting character. As I scrolled through old messages on my phone, I immersed myself in the task of deleting past texts.

  I’d been so absorbed in the task I hadn’t watched out for Sammie or even glanced up for that matter. A few minutes later, someone cleared his throat. My eyes slowly slid up a tall figure and found Sawyer staring back at me. My stomach fluttered and my breath hitched. Why was he here? I’d never known him to leave his house for coffee. He had all the best coffee machines at home.

  “Good morning,” he said politely as if he didn’t know me. “You must be, Ivy. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended a hand.

  I stifled a laugh and took his hand, pumping it up and down in an exaggerated fashion. He was up to something. I would humor him and go along with the joke.

  “Your friend, Sammie, texted a picture of you. Said to look for the girl with the white rose in her hair.” He glanced at his phone and then at me. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

  I stared back at him, incredulous, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “She sent you a picture?”

  “Yeah, said something about a deal regarding three blind dates. Told me the last two didn’t pan out and warned me that if I didn’t make this the best of the three, she’d have my hide.”

  “You’re my third date?”

  “I am.”

  That girl. She was so sneaky sometimes.

  I laughed. “Sounds like her. She’s in the car making a phone call.”

  “May I have a seat?”

  “Please do.” I gestured for him to sit, a giddy sensation taking residence in my gut.

  He lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the table, appearing entirely too big for the tiny space. “That phone call was to me. Said you’d arrived and I should wait a few minutes before going in.” A small smile played on his lips. “She’s on her way home right now.” The smile grew larger, illuminating his entire face.

  My smile matched his. “She played it off so well. I had no idea.”

  He reached forward and took my hand in his. “She called me last night. Apparently, she waited until you fell asleep and then snagged your phone to get my number.”

  “Leave it to Sammie to tie up loose ends.”

  He laughed, and I took in the grin that stretched across his face. His honey brown eyes filled with amusement, and he settled back in his chair with a relaxed posture that spoke volumes. He was happy. In fact, I’d never seen him this happy before. His entire countenance radiated joy.

  I loved this man so much and seeing him like this melted my heart and made me thankful I had this moment with him. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

  He squeezed my hand and nodded. “The last few hours, all I thought about was holding your hand and looking into your eyes.”

  Sitting forward, I squeezed his hand back. “Can you guess what my eyes are saying?”

  He gave me an appraising look. “They’re telling me your heart is in this.”

  “I’m one hundred percent invested,” I said.

  “You’re the real deal, Ivy. This,” he said, motioning between the two of us, “is solid. And I’m never letting go.”

  “Good. Because you can’t get rid of me now.”

  The sound of his deep laughter reverberated all the way down my spine to my toes—a pleasant sensation.

  I smiled and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear, glancing around the room. “Funny thing, the man who sat at this table before me said he met his wife for the first time here. He said they sat at this very table. Said it was a lucky table.” My smile grew wider. “I thought he was nutty at first. I mean, who says a table is lucky?”

  “Haven’t you heard? There’s no such thing as luck. Only the sovereignty of God. He has a purpose for everything.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “I used to understand that intellectually, but now I truly get it. I’ll always be sad my family died. The grief will always be there. But I know God wanted me to live. For Him. And for you.”

  My eyes widened. That one statement said it all. He was ready to move on.

  Lifting out of his seat, he leaned across the table and placed a hand on my cheek. He was inches away from my lips and lingered there, in no particular hurry. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  I sucked in a breath and waited, my stomach dipping, feverish and love-sick.

  He closed the distance and pressed his lips to mine. My heart sped up as he deepened the kiss, and all the longing I’d felt all those months exploded in my chest. I shut my eyes and for several long moments, the rest of the world faded away. The clatter of customers walking about the room—the hum of voices—completely gone. The warmth of his hand on my face and the woodsy scent of his cologne collided with my senses. It was only me and Sawyer and our hearts intertwined with hope for the future—our future.

  He broke away and kissed me on the cheek and then planted another one on my forehead. Bringing his lips to my ear, his warm breath tickled my neck. “How’s your third date going so far?”

  “It’s looking pretty good.” My eyes met his. “Actually, let me rephrase that. It’s the best date ever.”

  Epilogue

  Sawyer

  9 months later . . .

  Hayden and I were the last ones to leave the office. For months, I’d shadowed him to get a sense of his everyday job duties. I’d taken most of the responsibilities of CEO, leaving Hayden a small percentage of the workload, though he would always remain my mentor and advisor. The plan involved me steadily taking on more tasks until he only worked part-time.

  Working less had been a dream of his, and I owed him that. I’d told him to retire whenever he wanted, but he’d said he still had a few good years left in him and wasn’t ready to quit yet. I’d been thankful because although I’d hit the ground running, I had a lot to learn. He didn’t know it, but I planned on sending Sarah and him on a lavish vacation to Hawaii in a few weeks as a thank you for his dedication.

  Even though I owned the hotel business, calling the shots on a day-to-day basis was new to me. I’d ditched the combat boots, although they still made an appearance once in a while on casual dress Fridays. I’d instituted that informal policy almost from the get-go and found approval amongst the staff.

  The cool October air fell upon us as we set foot out the door. Hayden turned to lock up. “Are you ready for the big day tomorrow?”

  “Sure am. But nervous, too.”

  “Don’t be. A little birdy told me she’s been waiting for you to propose for a while.”

  I smiled
as we headed out to the parking lot. “By little birdy, do you mean, Sarah?”

  Hayden and Sarah had invited Ivy and me over for dinner many times in the past nine months, and Ivy and Sarah were close now as a result. It didn’t surprise me Ivy confided in her.

  He grinned. “My lips are sealed.”

  My phone rang. It was Pastor Wright. “Hey, Sawyer. Before you come to the group tonight, can you pick up snacks? Anything will do: cookies, chips, perhaps some fruit. I meant to do that myself, but I’m running late.”

  I motioned for Hayden to go on without me. “Yeah, no problem.”

  “There’s a young man new to our church who will be there. His dad just had a massive heart attack and passed away.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll make sure to reach out to him.”

  We spoke for a few more minutes about the group, and then I got into my car and drove towards the supermarket.

  Six months ago, I’d spoken with Pastor Wright about the need for a bereavement group. After I’d lost my family, I’d never attended anything like that, but God had been showing me that reaching out for support didn’t make a person weak—it made them courageous.

  As I’d gotten to know more people at the church, I’d seen how many suffered because of the loss of a family member or friend. More than most, I understood how important a group dealing with grief helped someone who needed a lifeline. Pastor Wright agreed to run the group as long as I assisted. To both our surprise, the group flourished and was well attended.

  Sometimes sharing memories about my family was so painful I wanted to quit the group, but in the end, I realized that opening up about the past actually eased the hurt in the long run. Many sought me out to talk about difficult situations they were going through, and I was able to empathize with them in a way I never would have, had I not suffered great loss myself.

  Once I’d pulled into the grocery store parking lot, my phone rang again. It was Ivy’s mom, most likely calling to touch base. I’d arranged for them to be picked up tomorrow in my private jet. “Hi, Mrs. Wolfe. How are you?”