Anna Meets Her Match (12 page)

A woman stepped up to the microphone and asked the congregation to prepare themselves for worship. Reeves removed his arm from about Anna’s shoulders and leaned forward, bowing his head. Surprised that he didn’t rise and slip out to join his aunts or friends, she quickly followed suit. Closing her eyes, she reached for some sense of God in this place. And found it. When the formal call to worship came, spoken in reverent tones by the woman at the microphone, Anna was in silent prayer.

Dear Lord, I’m here, just as I promised, but please don’t let my grandmother make a scene, and please don’t let me embarrass myself. Most of all, please don’t let me get all caught up in Reeves again when I know that could never work out. Amen.

The orchestra joined the organ, and the choir began a beautiful song based on Psalm 118. The congregation rose and joined in on the next selection. No hymnals. Instead, the words were projected onto the video screens. This was not a familiar hymn to Anna, and she felt lost. Beside her Reeves sang in a low, quiet bass, competent but with perhaps a limited range. She rather liked that tiny flaw in him. Later songs proved more familiar, but by that time Anna was content to simply let the music flow around her. She had forgotten, if she’d ever known, how sacred music could lift the spirit.

When the pastor stepped up into the pulpit, Anna tried not to regret the end of the music portion of the service. He began with a few joking remarks, but then he got down to business with a Scripture reading. The passage, Romans 8:1–8,
flashed up onto the video screens, but Anna noticed that Reeves followed along in his Bible. She divided her attention between him and the video screen, until the sixth verse smacked her right between the eyes.

“The mind of sinful man is death,” the pastor read, “but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace.”

Life and peace
, Anna thought, staring at those words on the screen. Suddenly she knew that she desperately needed that. For years now, she’d been existing in some kind of solitary limbo, and in all that time she could not recall more than mere moments of peace. The satisfaction that she occasionally derived from displeasing her grandmother in no way offset the long, lonely days and nights, the emptiness and grief that she felt every time she thought of her parents, the uncertainty of her job, not to mention the general hopelessness of her life. Was that all she had to look forward to? Irritating Tansy, wondering about her parents, dragging herself into the shop every day and back to her dreary apartment again in the evening, alone? That did not seem like life to her. It certainly was not peace.

While she listened to the pastor, she watched Reeves make notes on a slip of paper that he’d drawn from inside the cover of his Bible. At one point, he underlined something in the Bible itself, and she wondered what it was in that passage that could apply to him. Looking back up to the screen, she decided that it must be the first verse.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

She had always known, never doubted, that Reeves was a Christian. Certainly, he did not live “according to the sinful nature.” Somehow, even when he most irritated her and was most irritated by her, she had always realized that he lived by an inviolate code of conduct that she could only admire.

After a brief invitation, during which the pastor and others prayed with several individuals who came forward, the
service moved toward a close. Anna snagged her handbag from the floor where she’d placed it earlier, nodded silently at Reeves and slipped out of the pew to hurry through those double doors—only to find Tansy waiting for her in the foyer.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” her grandmother exclaimed, rushing toward her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?”

Anna made for the nearest exit, replying with her customary bluntness, “Because I didn’t want you to know.”

Tansy stepped in front of her. “Just tell me what’s brought this about?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Anna said, attempting to move around her. Tansy made an ungainly sideways hop to block her, and Anna panicked, looking around blindly for an escape. A long, square-palmed hand closed around her forearm.

“This way,” Reeves said. Anna stared at him in confusion. “Children’s Church,” he went on, watching Tansy, “it’s this way. Better hurry if we want to beat the crowd.”

Gratefully, Anna followed, rushing to keep up as his long legs led her away from Tansy and through a doorway across the foyer into a hall. They were well out of sight when he turned into yet another long hallway. She finally drew up. Her feet, in shoes meant for nothing more demanding than a short, sedate saunter, were killing her. Reeves stopped and strolled back to where she slumped against the wall.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I assumed you didn’t want a scene.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

He lifted an eyebrow at that. “I can remember a time when you’d have relished one, done your best to embarrass Tansy.”

Anna smiled wanly. “So can I.”

He tilted his head. “Looks like the brat’s grown up, after all. And yet, I suspect you’re about to make a liar out of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I implied that we have plans.”

“Which we don’t.”

“Not if you refuse to join us for Sunday dinner,” he conceded pointedly. Anna blinked at him. “Mind you, the aunties eat ‘simple’ on Sundays,” he hastened to add, “simple but ample. I’m sure they’d be delighted for you to join us. I know Gilli would.”

Anna noticed that he didn’t say anything about himself, but then she didn’t expect him to. Why then was she disappointed?

“Let me add a little more incentive,” he went on, stepping closer. “I doubt Tansy would follow you to Chatam House.”

Anna widened her eyes in horror. “But she would trail me back to my place.” Smiling, she quipped, “You sure know how to convince a girl, Stick.”

“Charm,” he said with a wink. “I learned it at the knees of my aunties, you know.”

Anna shook her head. Not only had he rescued her from an ugly public scene, he’d found the perfect way to diminish her embarrassing gaffe of the day before. Always one to value a good joke, she retorted, “Baloney. It’s genetic, bred into your very bones.”

“Like the cleft chin.”

They both laughed, and then he asked in an entirely conversational tone, “Where is your place anyway? I don’t think I even know where you live.”

“Cherry Hill Apartments.”

“Ah, yes. The complex in that low spot out there by the highway.”

She snickered. “That’s right. The one with no cherry trees.”

“Hmm, I’d have thought you were more the Peach Orchard type,” he said, naming another apartment complex in town.

She shook her head with mock sincerity. “I don’t particularly care for peaches.”

“You mean they actually
have
peaches?”

“Of course not, but still…” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Right.” His lips twitched.

“I did consider Pecan Valley,” she said, just to keep the joke going.

“But?” he asked.

“They actually have pecan trees.”

He arched both eyebrows. “How trite.”

They laughed again.

Anna thought,
Look at us. We’re having fun together!

Who would ever have believed it? The Brat and the old Stick-in-the-Mud actually enjoying each other’s company. It was, she suspected, as close to having her dreams come true as she would ever get.

“S
ee!” Gilli ran into the parlor and came to an abrupt halt directly in front of Anna. “Here she is!”

Anna bit her lips. The skinny gray-on-gray striped cat hung by the neck from the crook of Gilli’s arm, its also-gray eyes staring off into space. Anna would have thought it was paralyzed or traumatized if not for the lazy curl of the tip of its tail.

“He,” Reeves corrected, leaning against the doorjamb. He had removed his coat and tie and rolled back the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. “Here
he
is.”

Gilli nodded and announced, “Her name’s Special.”

“
His
name is Special.”

“Uh-huh,” Gilli agreed, petting the cat’s narrow head. “Do you like her collar?”

Anna looked to Reeves, waiting for his correction. He shrugged and shook his head as if to say that it was pointless. Anna cleared her throat, looked at Gilli and commented, “It’s, um, pink.”

“Special likes pink!” Gilli declared. “Don’t you, sweetie cat goodie dear?” She peppered her endearments with kisses to the cat’s ears. Other than a single twitch, the cat might have been a stuffed toy.

Hypatia showed up in the doorway beside Reeves. She sent an exasperated look at Gilli, shoulders slumping.

“Gilli dear, what are you doing with that cat
now
? Luncheon is on the table. Come along. Reeves, see Anna into the dining room, will you?”

“With pleasure,” he said, straightening away from the doorframe. He strolled toward Anna just as Hypatia swept Gilli and the cat from the room.

“Poor Hypatia,” he remarked, “overcome by a three-year-old.”

“And a cat named Special,” Anna added, grinning.

“I suggested we name him Catatonic, but only the vet thought that was funny.”

Anna sputtered laughter.

“You laugh,” Reeves said, eyes sparkling, “but I spent a minor fortune on that critter before the veterinarian could convince Hypatia that it would make a safe house pet, although the jury’s still out on its mental health.”

“I adopted a baby possum once,” Anna told him, still sputtering.

Reeves grinned. “Tansy must have loved that.”

“She didn’t know. Until it escaped. Silly thing fainted every time I got near it, or pretended to, then one day it bit me and ran.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Don’t think that’s going to happen in this case.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “How can you say that?”

As if on cue, a high, plaintive
“mmmmrrrrrroooowwww”
began to echo through Chatam House. Reeves crooked a finger at her. “You’ll see.”

Curious, she accompanied him to the dining room, where Hypatia sat with her head in her hands. Gilli occupied her usual chair, her feet swinging merrily as she spoke to a pet carrier on the seat next to her.

“There, there, Special baby doll dear. I right here.”

Anna went to peer into the carrier. The cat was laid out on its side, as stiff as a corpse, the only sign of life that eerie, mournful, ceaseless howl that emanated from its open mouth. Alarmed, she looked to Reeves.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Gilli’s not touching it, that’s what’s wrong with it,” Reeves said.

“I will not have an animal loose at the table,” Hypatia insisted.

Magnolia and Odelia entered through the butler’s pantry then, carrying a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water, respectively.

“It’s not working, Hypatia,” Magnolia asserted, plunking the bread platter onto the table. Odelia placed the pitcher on the sideboard and cupped her hands around the twin fruit salads clipped to her earlobes.

“Oh, all right!” Hypatia snapped. “Anything to placate that absurd—” She cast a long-suffering look at Gilli. “Special.” She sighed. “Anything for Special.”

Magnolia promptly marched around the table, took the furry siren from its carrier, and draped it over a delighted Gilli’s lap. The yowl abruptly faded to a purr. Gilli giggled and beamed.

While Magnolia went to rinse her hands, Reeves shook out his daughter’s napkin and spread it over the now contented and apparently paralyzed cat, his gaze finding Anna’s. She shook her head, amazed, but wisely kept her tongue glued to the floor of her mouth. Reeves came to escort her around the table to a chair, pulling it out for her and holding it until she smiled up at him. He went to seat his aunts before returning to take the chair at Anna’s side.

Hypatia scowled and looked to Reeves. “Perhaps you would say the blessing?”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat, and they all bowed their heads. “Most gracious Lord God, we thank You and we praise
You for this, Thy bounty, given for the nourishment of our bodies. Most of all, Father, I thank You for each woman around this table, child and adult alike, given, no doubt, for the nourishment of my heart. In the name of Christ Jesus, amen.”

Anna quivered inside. Had he purposefully included her in his prayer of thanksgiving? For the nourishment of his heart? As if. What was he going to say, thanks for everyone but Anna?

Gilli patted the cat under the napkin on her lap, crooning, “You, too, sweetie Special girl.”

Anna thought it as likely that the cat was included in Reeves prayer as her. Oh, no, wait. It was a male.

“Gilli,” Reeves said, as if reading Anna’s thoughts, “that cat really is a boy.”

“I know.” Gilli hunched her shoulders and crooned, “My beautiful boy sweetie.”

Reeves rolled his eyes. Anna covered her mouth. Hypatia looked like she might weep. Magnolia and Odelia, on the other hand, seemed content to dish out soup and pass around the salad. Reeves and Anna shared a smile, then set to enjoying their own lunch.

The meal passed in near silence, as if the purr of the comatose cat draped over Gilli’s lap blocked all conversation. It was perhaps the most physically uncomfortable hour of Anna’s life. She hadn’t worn this dress since the wedding for which she’d bought it, over two years ago, and she had forgotten how the belt cut grooves in the tops of her hips, the stockings itched like steel wool and the heels of her shoes made her feet swell. Plus, if there existed in this world a dish she disliked more than split pea soup, she hadn’t tasted it.

Yet, somehow, she’d never been happier. Or sadder.

After lunch, Anna offered to help clean up, but Reeves could have told her that the aunties would have none of it.
They practically chased Reeves, Anna and Gilli from the dining room, along with the cat, of course. He suspected, from the knowing smile that Mags and Od shared, that they were indulging in a bit of matchmaking again, but he let it go. To his surprise, he enjoyed spending time with Anna, and he’d been thinking a lot about that kiss on the stairwell.

As much as he’d tried to tell himself that it had been an impulsive expression of gratitude, he knew better. Oh, it had been impulsive, all right, and gratitude was part of it, but that kiss had been as much about him as her. He didn’t want to be alone. He had never wanted to be alone, and in the deepest well of his soul, he believed that God intended him to marry, despite the mistake he had made with Marissa. If the very idea of a “him and Anna” still boggled his mind, well, at least it was a more open and informed mind than it had been.

He suggested to her that they move to the library in hopes of discussing the dossier of information that he’d given her the last time they’d been there. He truly wanted Anna to be happy, but the most he could do was encourage her to look for another job. Before he could bring up the subject, however, Gilli seized upon the opportunity for a story. Anna took down a picture book, not a child’s book but a nature book of desert photos, finding a surprising picture of a lizard, snake and hare in close proximity. Soon she and Gilli, a purring Special draped over one arm, had spun a fascinating tale of animals that cooperated to find water and shelter from the sun.

Afterward, Gilli screwed up her face and asked, “What is berrow?”

“Burrow,” Anna corrected, reaching for a paper and pen that someone had left on the library table earlier. Quickly, she sketched a picture of a lizard squeezing into a snake’s burrow, explaining as she drew.

“O-o-oh,” Gilli said. Then she wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t want to live in the dirt. And not in the bush, either.
That’s where Special had to live, isn’t it, dear baby sugar?” She stroked the cat as she spoke.

While listening to the story then watching Anna sketch, an idea had come to Reeves, one he wanted to explore with Anna, but just then Gilli yawned and duty called.

“Someone needs a nap.”

Gilli immediately put up a howl. He just shook his head at her pleas.

“Can I help tuck you in again?” Anna asked, and that did it.

“Okay,” Gilli conceded glumly.

They all went out and climbed the stairs together. Gilli carried the cat in a chokehold, but Reeves had learned from experience not to tamper with the arrangement. Whenever anyone tried to help her find a seemingly gentler way to handle it, the ridiculous animal hissed and showed its fangs. Reeves had no doubt that it would take off a finger if it sensed that anyone meant to truly separate it from Gilli. Besides, after showing her what would hurt the cat, the vet had said that the animal would teach them how it wanted to be handled. So far, the cat wanted to be handled only by Gilli, and obviously, no matter how awkward it looked, she wasn’t hurting the silly thing. To her, the cat was a person, the dearest and sweetest of all beings, and she was wounded by anyone who suggested otherwise. She spoke to the animal as if she expected it to reply.

“We got to take a nap. Daddy says the world is better from a nap, but I think it’s good without it. Don’t you? Hmm?”

Despite hiding many a grin, they made short work of tucking in Gilli and her cat, which curled up next to her on her pillow and glared at them balefully until they left the room. They were headed back down the stairs when Reeves asked, “The library or the sunroom?”

To his disappointment, Anna grimaced. “I hate to say it, but I need to go. If I don’t change my clothes soon I’ll scream.”

He could understand the sentiment. He felt the same way every evening when he came in from work. Still, it was a shame. She looked awfully good in that dress. And those shoes…Whoa.

“Lunch was interesting, to say the least. Will you thank your aunts for me?”

He put on a polite smile. “Sure. After I walk you to your car.”

They slipped on their coats, and Reeves opened the door. Cold air and bright sunshine slapped them in equal measures. The light angled perfectly to slice beneath the overhang of the porch, which usually provided shade. They walked across the planking on the verandah to the top of the brick steps.

“So what did you think of the sermon?” he asked. He’d been wanting to know all afternoon.

She shrugged, pausing at the very edge of the porch. “I thought it was interesting. Except I didn’t quite get what he meant about peace.” She waved a hand. “The control of the mind…”

“The mind
controlled by
the Spirit,” Reeves corrected gently.

“Is life and peace,” she finished. “But what does that mean?” The way she said the word
peace
told him a lot. He gathered his words carefully.

“I know that when I can’t find any peace it’s because I’m not yielded to the control of the Holy Spirit. I just don’t always know how to let go of whatever’s cutting me up.”

“How do you find out?”

Looking down, he admitted, “The hard way, usually.”

She snorted at that. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Oh, yes, it does.” Sighing, he looked her straight in the face. “Sometimes I think I do everything the hard way.”

She shook her head, refusing to believe it, and that pleased him so much that he smiled and said, “Lately, though, it seems to have gotten a little easier. I seem to have acquired some wisdom from somewhere.”

She considered then nodded. “I can see how your aunts might contribute to that.”

He looked back at her in surprise. “True. But I was talking about you.”

“Me?” She laughed as if it was a joke.

He spread his hands. “Anna, I’ve learned more about parenting my daughter from you than anyone else, ever.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why, that can’t be!”

“You’ve helped me understand how she thinks,” he insisted, tapping his temple with his forefinger. “That’s helped me change how I deal with her. What I wouldn’t give to be able to read her as easily as you do.”

“The only thing I do easily is make mistakes!” Anna exclaimed.

A bark of laughter escaped him. “Then that makes two of us. Though I suspect it’s a universal problem.”

“Why is it so easy to mess up and so hard to get things right?” she wondered.

“I don’t know,” Reeves told her, “but I suspect it has to do with what the pastor was talking about this morning. We don’t keep our minds on the things of God as much as we should. Instead, we dwell on everything that can and has gone wrong, everything we can’t do or mess up ourselves.” Wow. Was he talking to her or himself?

Acknowledging his words with a pensive nod, she stepped down onto the brick. Aware that she was thinking over what he’d said, he took her by the elbow and led her down the remaining steps to the walkway.

“I think you’re right,” she said, “and I think that was exactly the message I needed to hear this morning.”

“Funny,” he said, “I was thinking the same thing about myself.” They stepped onto the gravel, and he dropped his hand.

When she looked up, he expected another question. Instead, she said, “Thank you for the invitation to lunch.”

“You’re welcome.” An idea popped into his head, and before he could even think it through, it was coming out of his mouth. “Say, why don’t you come for a run with me in the morning?”

He hadn’t known her eyes could go that wide. “Running? In the morning?”

“Yeah, I’ve started running in the morning rather than the evening so I can spend more time with Gilli.” And not only was his daughter happy about it, his stress level at work had dropped precipitately.

“Oh. Um…well, what time?”