Wear a dress and be ready at seven tonight
.
I pick up the phone and dial his number. His voice is low and husky as he says, “Hello.”
“I just got a gorgeous box of roses. Know who they might be from?”
“Who is this?” But I can hear laughter in his voice.
“They’re beautiful.”
“And so are you.” I feel a little guilty that I set him up for that, especially since my hair is sticking up and I don’t have
one speck of makeup on my face. I’m so not beautiful.
“Did you read the card?”
“Yes, and you know I hate dresses.”
“Wear one anyway.”
“What if I don’t have one to wear?”
“How about that little black number you wore for Linda and Mark’s second wedding?”
I forgot about that. “All right. I can do that. Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out. Just wear the dress, and let me take care of the rest.”
I float through the day, preparing for my date with Greg. Somehow, he’s figured out that I’m ready to be his wife, come hell
or high water. Or in this case: whether he’s a pastor or not.
The dress is a little snug, darn it. Not so tight it’s cutting off the blood circulation, but definitely a wake-up call. I
pull on the three-inch strappy sandals Linda forced me to buy. Then, because there are still thirty minutes until Greg picks
me up, I call her. I haven’t spent that much time with my friend this summer. She’s been busy decorating her new house, and
I’ve been busy trying to get mine fixed. But I know I must speak with my best friend and analyze what will happen on the date.
“I’m so happy!” she exults, when I tell her about the flowers and the date. “I’ve been praying for this.”
“I’m wearing the dress we got for your wedding.”
A throaty laugh escapes her. “I knew that dress would come in handy again. Don’t forget to wear the heels.”
“Got them.”
“Claire, I know you’re going to be exactly the wife Greg needs. So stop worrying!”
“If only I could.” I’m still not one hundred percent convinced, but I figure if this is something he’s got to do, then I’m
going to do it, too. After all, like Tina said (and she’s been a pastor’s wife for twenty years, so she should know), I don’t
have to do anything I’m not called to do. Just love and support my husband.
The bell rings at exactly seven o’clock. I open the door for Greg. Decked out in a new black suit, banded collared shirt underneath.
No tie. He looks incredible. I’d like to tell him so, but the kids are milling around the living room so there’s no chance
for a private word. Plus, it’s a little hard to think about romance when Tommy is crunching Doritos and laughing at
The Three Stooges
marathon playing on the Superstation. Catchy game music is playing from Jakey’s handheld Game Boy, and Shawn is practicing
lines. Auditions for
Oklahoma!
begin in a month. Ari is leaning against the entryway between the kitchen and living room, arms folded loosely across her
chest. She watches me with a quirky grin and I know she’s as hopeful about this evening as I am.
In the midst of my chaos, Greg’s gaze pulls me away as it sweeps over my dress. Tenderness and admiration shine from his eyes
as they lock onto mine.
“Humph!” Tenderness and admiration, however, are the last things shining from Sadie’s eyes. The little girl is sending unsubtle
death rays from beneath her bristly dark lashes. I toss Ari a “you sure you can handle her?” raised-brow look. My daughter
grins. Oh yeah. She can manage the little monster.
“Come on, Sadie. We’re making cookies and watching a movie.” Good. Take command. Don’t ask her, tell her what you’re doing.
Brave move. I watch with paused breath to see if Sadie will be stubborn or give in.
Sadie eyes her. “What kind of cookies?”
“You’ll just have to come to the kitchen and find out.”
With a long-suffering eye roll, Sadie deposits her little pink plastic purse onto the coffee table and heads toward the kitchen.
“Kiss me good-bye, honey,” Greg says.
Sadie huffs and whips around. She gives him a grudging peck on the cheek, shoots me a glare, and follows Ari into the kitchen.
I can’t help but be a bit dubious about the night. But Greg doesn’t seem concerned.
I grab my purse from the end table next to Jakey’s chair. He never even looks up. I kiss his head, then turn back to Greg.
“You sure Sadie’s going to be all right here with my kids?”
“Sure she will. Once she starts mixing up cookie dough, she’ll forget all about being left out of our date.”
“Not to be nosy or anything, but did your mom have plans tonight that kept her from keeping Sadie?”
“You could say that. No more questions.” He bends and presses a kiss to my lips.
“All right, all right,” Tommy pipes up. “You guys take it outside. I’m eating here.”
“Sorry, man.” Greg chuckles, then turns his attention back to me. “Ready to go?”
Is he kidding? I tell the boys good-bye and precede him as he opens the door and steps aside like the gentleman he is.
“Where are we going?” I ask, after we settle into his Avalanche and he starts the motor.
“I thought I said no questions.”
“I know, but can’t you give me a teeny-tiny hint?”
“Nope. I want you to be surprised.”
Ten minutes later he has no idea how surprised I am as we pull up in front of his mother’s house. Disappointment sweeps over
me. “You made me wear a dress for dinner at your mom’s?”
I cringe at my pouty tone. Good grief. I’m worse than Sadie.
“I’ll make it worth your while. Just wait.”
He opens the truck door for me. My heels click-clack up the brick walk to the porch. My legs are wobbly, and I’m about to
lose my battle with the three-inch heels because the warmth from Greg’s palm seeping through the back of my dress is making
me weak-kneed as he guides me up the steps. Thankfully, he drops his hand and unlocks the door, which is the only reason,
I’m sure, that I don’t land on my face.
He sweeps me through the house and straight to the dining room. The beautiful cherry-wood dining-room table glimmers in the
candlelight. I catch my breath. Two plates covered by sterling silver domes are in place, along with a pitcher of tea. Greg
doesn’t drink wine, which would have been a lot more romantic than tea. But I can’t help but be glad he chose the tea rather
than going with a wine substitute just to be romantic. Sparkling cider in wine-shaped bottles always feels a little junior
high to me.
I hear a door close somewhere in the house and I jerk around.
“Get that worried look off your face. That was just my mom leaving.”
“She didn’t have to do that!”
He pulls me close. “Yes, she did.”
Without a word, I surrender to his embrace. I wrap my arms around his neck as his mouth covers mine and I absolutely melt
into his kiss. I could stay here forever, I really could. I love this man so much. How could I have ever listened to Emma
Carrington? The wacko, yoga-doing, higher power (but not necessarily God)-believing life coach. What was I thinking? What
would she know about God ordering a person’s life? About God equipping a woman to stand beside her husband in the ministry
and support him? Why did I waste so much time listening to a lie?
Way too soon Greg pulls away and seats me in a cushiony dining-room chair. Which is just as well, because after that kiss,
my legs are about to give out on me.
Instead of sitting in his own chair, he drops to one knee in front of me.
My heart pounds so loud in my ears that I’m afraid I might not get to hear the actual proposal that only a moron wouldn’t
be able to figure out is coming.
“I know you still haven’t figured out where your career is going,” he begins. “I know you’re not in your house yet, and I
know you’re not altogether crazy about the idea that I’m going to be a pastor. But I think when you find the kind of love
and companionship that we have, you have to stop trying to wait for everything to be just right and step out in faith.”
He takes the velvet box from his pocket. “You’re the only woman for me, Claire. Now and for the rest of my life. I love you
too much to let you go. Maybe it’s selfish of me to even ask this knowing your reservations, but will you marry me?”
Well, what’s a girl to say when she’s looking at a princess-cut rock being offered by the man she loves? “Yes.” And there
it is. Short, sweet, to the point. And it takes an incredible weight off my heart to finally say it.
His jaw drops a little, and a smile splits his handsome face. “Are you sure?”
I nod and, I must admit, my eyes are watery with unshed tears. I cup his cheek and look deeply into his eyes. “I’m still carrying
some emotional baggage from Rick’s unfaithfulness. It might take awhile before I completely trust you. And I can’t promise
I won’t say something stupid and single-handedly bring down your ministry. Or if I don’t bring it down completely, I’m for
sure going to embarrass you at some point.”
He laughs. “I know you, Claire. I know you have insecurities because of the past. I want to be the man to prove that not only
can
a man be faithful, but that you are more than enough for me. I could never want anyone else.”
There is no denying the sincerity of his words. “I believe you mean that, Greg.” And I do. At this moment anyway. Even as
relief crosses his face, I feel I have to press. “But what about the rest of what I said?”
“Oh, honey. Don’t worry so much. You say the right thing a lot more often than you say the wrong thing.”
Oh, if only that were true. “What about that time when I laughed so hard at poor Mr. Cain’s incontinence?”
Greg’s lips twist, and I can tell he’s trying to keep back a grin. I slug him in the arm. “See? That’s the kind of stuff I
do.”
“First of all, you didn’t laugh at Eddie’s incontinence, only the way he told about it. And believe me, you weren’t the only
one fighting to keep a straight face that day.”
That’s little consolation since, if memory serves, I’m the only one who actually gave in to the moment of weakness.
“So you’re not perfect.” He takes my hand once more. “But you’re perfect for me.”
He keeps his dark gaze on me while he slips the cool ring on my finger and wraps his hand around mine. Rising on his knees,
he meets me at eye level and I meet him in the middle. His lips cover mine and I can feel the tension in the muscles of his
neck as my arms wrap around his neck. It’s a kiss of com-mitment, confirmation, definitely passion. I understand when he breaks
our embrace a moment later.
“Are you wondering why I brought you here to ask you to marry me?”
“A little.”
“This is only if you agree… but Mom has decided to buy a condo in Twin Oak Hills. She wants to give us this house as
a wedding present.”
“The
Father of the Bride
house?” I am awestruck. My insides are jumpy, shaky, quaky. If I could harness all this energy and bottle it into a fitness
supplement, no one would ever have another lethargic workout.
Greg gives me a questioning smile. “I don’t get it.”
“My all-time favorite house is the one in the movie
Father of the Bride
. This one looks just like it, almost.”
A smile lifts the edges of his lips. “Just like it, almost?”
“Close enough.”
“So, I assume you’re happy with the gift?”
“Are you kidding me? Only, can we really take such an elaborate gift? Shouldn’t your mom sell it to buy the condo?”
“Trust me, she can afford it.”
Joy shoots through me. My dream man, my dream home.
Three months ago, I had my future mapped out. My career, my perfect yuppie marriage to Greg. Then a tornado hit, and suddenly
I realized I had no idea how to salvage my splintered life. But God knew He had a plan that didn’t include the things I thought
were important.
In hindsight, I guess I was pretty clueless to try to figure it out with anyone else’s help but God’s. Emma was a disaster
and gave the kind of advice one might expect from someone who doesn’t know God. But it definitely wasn’t the right advice
for me. And Penny, well, her heart was in the right place, but she had her own issues. The one thing I can say that I did
take away from that experience is a good friend.
I glance across the table at my future husband/pastor. And I think,
Man, how’d I get so lucky
? But I realize I couldn’t have gotten to this place on my own.
Greg looks up from his meal and smiles at me.
And all I can think is,
Thank you, God, for not giving me what I thought I wanted, because what you had planned is infinitely better
.