Loving Promises (9 page)

The same thought fitted his reasons for staying single. Yet, as the thought left his mind, he knew he’d been wrong. Losing his mother, losing a friend or seeing someone else’s pain still hurt. He couldn’t escape it no matter what he did. Sadness followed joy.

“Why are you so quiet?” Bev brushed sand from his pant leg. “Is something wrong?”

“Just thinking about life. Sometimes it seems so hopeless. So dark.”

“Only for nonbelievers, Dale. Remember what the Lord promised. ‘Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.’” She brushed her finger along his arm. “You have to be patient. Sorrow fades, and happiness returns. I survived my husband’s death. Your dad will survive. You’ll survive.”

The inevitable rose in his mind, and the thought of being alone overwhelmed him.

B
ev parked in front of Annie Dewitt’s home and headed up the walk. The old-fashioned porch swing hanging from thick chains stirred in the summer breeze and looked inviting. She could imagine sitting there on a warm summer evening.

Annie had asked her to drop by that evening. The visit seemed to have no particular purpose, but Bev wondered. Annie had been quiet at work during the day, and an uneasy feeling washed over her as she approached the door.

For so long Bev had done little without dragging the kids along, but now her mother often baby-sat, even taking the children to Dotty’s. As ill as she was, Dotty always asked about the children. They seemed to give her spirit a lift.

Bev rang the bell, and Annie opened the door, a
strained smile on her face. Bev’s chest tightened; her uneasiness was justified.

“Hi,” Annie said, pushing the door wider. “I’m glad you could come.”

As Bev came through the doorway, Gracelynne toddled toward her on chubby legs. “Hello,” Bev said, bending down to give the child a hug.

The toddler uttered a lengthy sentence of chatter and waved her soft-covered book at Bev.

“We’re not reading books now, sweetie.” Annie hoisted the child into her arms and motioned toward the living-room sofa. “Have a seat. I made some tea if you’d like.”

“That would be nice,” Bev said. She sat with Gracelynne on her lap and played with her while Annie went for the beverage. The child’s laughter filled Bev with delight, and she was struck again by how much she loved young children.

Time had flown. Michael was going into second grade, and Kristin would start kindergarten this year. She would have no more babies in her life. At age thirty-four, she knew the time was coming when childbearing would not be wise, and the thought settled in her chest like a knot. Would she ever have another child? It seemed impossible.

Annie returned, and the conversation revolved around Loving Care Child Care, Dotty Levin and Gracelynne.

“She’s such a blessing,” Annie said. “When we adopted her, she was the answer to our prayers. I was too old to have a child…I thought, and—”

Her face paled, and Bev searched her strained expression for the reason. “Annie? Is something wrong?”

Annie’s chin lifted in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not yourself today. You have something on your mind.”

Annie didn’t speak but lowered her head.

Bev caught the moisture brimming in Annie’s eyes. “Please, tell me. Are you and Ken having problems?” Concern rifled through her with the question.

“No. Ken and I are very happy. He’s a wonderful husband.”

“Is it Gracelynne?” The child looked the picture of health, but Annie’s stress signaled something was very wrong.

“I’m pregnant,” Annie said.

“Pregnant?” The admission raced through Bev and left her with an unexpected feeling of envy. She remembered vividly the joy of having a new baby cuddled against her.

Annie nodded. “We were as shocked as you are. I’m too old, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Apparently you’re not too old,” Bev said.

“I’m forty-four.”

Bev’s earlier thoughts sprung to mind. She was ten years younger than Annie and had decided she was too old. But now…

“People have babies at your age,” Bev said. “Women in their fifties have children.”

“Not me,” Annie said. “Impossible.”

“Obviously, not impossible.” She tried to sound lighthearted for Annie.

“We just didn’t think it would happen. I’m really afraid, Bev. The baby will be in danger. I don’t care about myself, but—”

“You can’t discredit the Lord’s gift, Annie. He’s chosen you to be the mother of your own biological child.”

“But it’s not wise. I really think we need to…” her voice faded “…make decisions.”

“The Lord’s made the decision. You have no decision to make. You’re having a baby.”

Tears rolled down Annie’s cheeks. “I’m ashamed of myself. I know I’ll have the baby. I’m just so frightened.”

“You’ll need to take good care of yourself and follow the doctor’s orders. There’s no reason why you can’t have a healthy baby.”

Annie brushed the tears away with the back of her hand.

Bev crossed to her side and sat on the chair arm. She wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulder. “The Lord gives us nothing that we can’t handle.” Her words nudged her own concerns, and she recalled how poorly she’d handled so many of the stresses in her life.

Annie tilted her head and gave a faint nod. “Despite my fear, I think Ken’s thrilled. I should be, too. We’d been talking about adopting another child, but then we just let the idea pass.”

“God did it for you. You’re a wonderful mother to Gracelynne, Annie, and Ken’s a doting father. This new baby will be very blessed.”

“Thank you,” Annie whispered. “I’m ashamed of myself for even doubting.”

“Annie, we all doubt. We all question God’s plan for us. He knows our weaknesses, and He forgives us.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She gave Bev a faint smile. “It feels so good to talk with someone.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Bev said. “I always have lots of thoughts going through my mind—things I don’t want to share with my mom, but things I’d like to talk about.”

“Talk away,” Annie said. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one who needs counseling.”

Bev looked at her and didn’t know what to say or where to begin. “It struck me again today when I saw Gracelynne. I’ve watched my two kids grow, and I’ve thought for so long I was done having children. Then out of the blue, I feel heartbroken to think I’ll never have another child. My arms ache to hold a newborn baby—one that’s my own—but babies mean marriage, and I’m afraid. I don’t want to go through it again. Once was enough.”

“What about you and Dale? I thought your relationship looked promising.”

Bev shrugged. “No. Dale’s been very open about not looking for marriage. He enjoys the friendship. With his mom’s illness, he needs someone to talk with, too, and I’m the one. I truly think that’s where it will end.”

Annie frowned. “Are you sure? I see much more going on than you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t give up on that relationship. Let God’s will be done.”

“I try, but I’m not very good at it.”

Annie laughed. “None of us are.”

“Like I said, once is enough, and yet—” She paused, unable to face the new feelings. “My thoughts waver. I’m not certain I want a commitment. My life feels settled, and for once I’m in control. I’m not spending hours worrying about a partner who willingly endangers his life without thinking of his family. I’d rather be alone.”

Annie pressed her warm hand against Bev’s arm. “I was alone for many years, Bev. It’s not good. I tolerated it. A life shared with someone special is what God wants for us, I think. The Bible says that man shouldn’t be alone.” She sent Bev a feeble grin. “I think that means women, too.”

Bev slid her hand over Annie’s. “I don’t know, Annie. Maybe you’re right, but I need to be certain and know what I’m feeling is real.” She thought a moment. “Could we pray? I think we both need God to give us strength and understanding of what he wants for us.”

“I’d love to pray with you,” Annie said.

As if she understood, Gracelynne teetered toward them and pressed her tiny hands against theirs and gurgled one of her cryptic monologues.

Annie shot Bev a gentle smile. “From the mouths of babes.”

“They touch our lives and hearts,” Bev said, as they bowed their heads.

Bev followed her mother into the church. The strains of music rose above the sounds of worshippers greeting each other as they settled into the pews. As they made their way down the aisle, Mildred came to an abrupt halt, and Bev ran into her from behind.

“Sorry,” Bev said, wondering why her mother had halted.

“There’s Al and Dale,” Millie said, waving her hand toward them.

Bev faltered, hoping they would sit somewhere else. If Annie thought she and Dale were forming a relationship, sitting with him would have the whole congregation thinking the same. She couldn’t stop her mother, however. Mildred had bustled ahead and was already seated by the time Bev reached her.

They whispered good mornings, and before the service began, Michael appeared at her side.

“What’s wrong?” Bev asked.

“I don’t want to go to Sunday school today.”

“Why not?” Bev studied his face and noticed his gaze was glued to Dale.

“Can I stay in church?”

Michael was more difficult to dissuade than her
mother, and she shifted over for him to take a seat. She was pleased, at least, that Kristin hadn’t followed him.

He sank beside her a moment, then moved around to sit between her and Mildred. Before she realized, Michael had made his way along the line until he finally wriggled in beside Dale. She watched Dale’s face and caught his puzzled look.

Concern washed over her. Michael was becoming too attached to Dale. He talked about him constantly. One day Dale would walk away and settle back into his life in Grand Rapids. Michael would be forgotten, and Bev would once again be left with a boy abandoned by the only male figure in his life. She didn’t know how to avoid the boy’s inevitable heartbreak.

Bev had to admit that Michael had changed. He wasn’t perfect, but he’d calmed down, and his need for attention had faded a little. He and Kristin even seemed to get along better.

The worship music swelled, and the congregation rose. Bev followed their lead from habit while her mind struggled with the negatives and positives of her relationship with Dale. Confused and getting nowhere, she pushed the thoughts aside.

The hymn ended, and Bev sank into her seat and opened the pew Bible to follow the pastor’s reading from Romans 15. The words marched through her until the last phrase washed over her like a benediction. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you
trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Trust in Him.
No matter how hard Bev tried, she knew she hadn’t trusted in the Lord the way He had asked of her. God’s promise was filled with all she needed—joy, peace and hope overflowing.
Hope.
A single word that held such assurance. If only she could grasp it and hold it in her heart.

Voices rose around her, and she opened her hymn book and joined in the song. “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.” As the words left her, her eyes drifted to Michael so close to Dale, his gaze enrapt on the man’s face.

Her eyes shifted to Al, his bass voice booming, and her mother, standing beside him, using his songbook to sing. They looked like a happy family when they weren’t that at all. They were people struggling with private matters, needing the wonderful assurance that God was in charge.

When the service ended, she shifted into the aisle, and Dale joined her as they headed outside. The bright sun warmed her, and the pleasant day gave her courage to be open with him.

“I’m concerned about Michael,” Bev said.

He frowned. “You mean missing Sunday school?”

“No. You. Hero worship,” Bev said. “I don’t think it’s good for him.”

“I suppose it’s the need for attention we talked about a while back.”

Mildred joined them, rattling on about someone Bev didn’t know, and she let her thoughts weigh what Dale had said. It might be attention, but her heart asked if Michael would be okay. What would happen when—

Michael suddenly appeared at Dale’s side while Al’s voice cut through Bev’s thoughts. “Dale, you ought to take this young man to the baseball game. He’d like that.” He tousled Michael’s hair. “And if Millie stays with your mother, I’ll go along with you.”

Michael’s eyes widened and Bev saw the excitement grow on his face.

“I’d be glad to,” Mildred said, her gaze shifting from Al to Dale’s bewildered expression.

“Baseball game?” Dale asked, looking as if he’d rather scrub floors.

“The youth group,” Al said. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Michael?”

Michael’s head bobbed like a buoy on rough water.

“Well, I…” Dale looked from his father to Bev to Michael. The boy’s eager face tilted upward to Dale’s as if he were the sun.

Bev watched Dale crumple with defeat. He glanced at his watch. “When does it start?”

“The bulletin said right after church. We might have time to pick up a burger.”

Mildred bustled into the conversation. “What about Kristin?”

“I doubt if she’d enjoy a ball game,” Dale said.

“It’s just for boys,” Michael added, his tone filled with importance.

Dale gave Bev a look. “It’ll be good for him to do something without—” He gave a toss of his head toward Kristin who came bounding toward them.

The situation felt uncomfortable to Bev. She knew Al had roped Dale into the situation. He didn’t want to take Michael, but she knew she’d let Michael go despite her reservations. Michael needed a male role model, and Dale and his father were as good as any. Yet that frustrated her, too. How could she dislike and like something at the same time? She knew the answer. Dale’s attention and Michael’s eager acceptance made Bev feel inadequate. She needed to deal with her own sense of insecurity.

Kristin flashed a construction-paper creation toward her. “It’s for you, Mama.”

Bev only half looked as she watched Michael skip off with Dale and Al.

“You didn’t look,” Kristin whined. Mildred gazed at the picture, complimenting Kristin’s handiwork.

Finally Bev pulled her gaze away from the men and studied the jagged circle she guessed was the world arched by a rainbow. “It’s beautiful, Kristin.”

“It’s for you. It’s God’s promise,” Kristin said, pointing to the colorful semicircle.

God’s promise. The words took her back to the worship service. Hope and blessed assurance. Bev hugged
the Sunday-school project against her chest. “I love this,” she said, bending down to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Thank you.”

When she lifted her gaze, Dale and Michael were at the far end of the parking lot. Michael saw her watching and waved.

Her chest tightened. Was all of this God’s doing? A single word rose in her thoughts.