Seasons of Love

Sacramento, California

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Call me,” a familiar voice crackled from the answering machine.

Grandpa?
Riley O’Hare set her sack of groceries on the counter as she replayed the message.

The clock on the sage-colored wall displayed six thirty. Grandpa was on the East Coast. No way would he still be up at nine thirty. She’d have to wait until morning before she could call him. She hated waiting and stared at the ceiling while the annoying computerized voice detailed the time and stated that she had another message.

“Riley, it’s Eric. You there? I tried to reach you on your cell today. I’d love to have dinner with you tonight, but I’ve got that meeting with Tom Carling at Solution Sciences, remember? Actually, you could join me. It never hurts to have a beautiful woman on your arm. Italiano’s at six thirty.”

“Too late,” she said and huffed at his comment. It irritated her that he acted as though they were supposed to have dinner tonight. When would he get it? He didn’t seem to understand that things were over between them. Riley shuddered.

Eric Rutherford only saw her as eye candy to impress his colleagues. Everything revolved around his work as a business consultant—though she couldn’t blame him for that. Her career as a regional account executive for Morris & Associates consumed her, as well. Most people didn’t have time to live their own lives anymore.

Anxious to be rid of thoughts of Eric, she hit the Delete button hard and long. The answering machine responded that all messages had been erased.

“What? Argh.” Riley examined the caller ID list to see whose calls she’d missed since she’d just accidentally trashed all the messages. John’s work number appeared last. She called her brother back, getting no answer; then she tried his cell. Still no answer, so she left a message.

After she finished putting away the groceries she’d grabbed on the way home from work, she popped precooked chicken strips onto a paper plate and into the microwave, then pulled the tab off a diet soda. It fizzed over the top and onto her beige blouse. “Ack!” She whirled around and held it over the sink. When the soda’s overzealous carbonation died down, she wiped the can with a paper towel and set it on the counter while she cleaned.

Frustration overwhelmed her. She didn’t have the energy to cook a decent meal. Life had been hectic since graduating from college with a business degree. Three years of her life had flown by since then. Was this what it was all about?

Riley sat at the kitchen counter and ate her chicken strips, her thoughts never far from her grandfather’s call. She retrieved the client folders stashed in the side pockets of her soft leather briefcase. If she wasn’t traveling on business, she brought work home every night. After she plopped down on the sofa to read through the files, she pulled her lip ointment from her pocket to moisten her forever-dry lips, then pressed the Power button on the remote control to watch a twenty-four-hour news station.

She looked at her Swiss watch. Seven o’clock.
Okay, I give.
Riley slid her cell phone from its holder and started to dial then realized she hadn’t called Grandpa in a while and couldn’t remember his number. Worse, she hadn’t bothered to store it in her new camera phone that her brother, John, had sent. She found Grandpa’s number in the address book on her laptop, cringing at the thought of waking him. It would be ten o’clock his time.

After the fifth ring, she changed her mind, but before she could end the call, he answered. “Hello?”

Startled by the sound of his voice, Riley hesitated.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Her grandfather’s agitated tone caused embarrassment to wash over her. She’d woken him. “Riley, is that you?”

She smiled as warmth flooded her. “Grandpa, I’m sorry to wake you.”

Unable to sleep, Riley stared at the ceiling in her bedroom. She exhaled and rolled to her side—again. The glowing green numbers of the alarm clock read three thirty. Her grandfather’s proposition had thrust her thoughts into chaos. She wondered how she could possibly consider it. She loved him and had heard the desperation in his voice. No one else had any interest in carrying on the family business. Riley’s mother had died a year ago, and her aunt lived in Chicago with her family. A few distant cousins lived in the area. They always managed to help with the harvest, but they had high-paying jobs in the city.

Who would take the farm if not her?

Her grandpa had said that he knew she loved the place as he did, and she had her business degree. True, she’d spent much of her childhood at Sanderford Cranberry Farms and managed to be there for harvest as often as possible, taking a week of vacation. But what he asked was a lot—he wanted her to give up her life in California and move to Massachusetts to run things.

Still, she couldn’t let go of the idea. If she accepted, she would also have an opportunity to be near her brother, John, and his family, who lived in Plymouth—a short drive from the farm. She’d only learned of his existence two years before, when John had found his biological mother—Riley’s mom. Her mother had told her that she’d given up a child for adoption before she was married to Riley’s father. Riley’s grandmother had not wanted the embarrassment of an illegitimate child. Her church friends would have been aghast.

Riley had always wanted a brother, so she was thrilled when John and his family came into her life. She was so proud of him. A sharp programmer, he had been courted by the National Security Agency to work as a cryptographer. He was fun, too, always leaving her clues to solve some puzzle he’d concocted.

A deep love for John and his family had taken root in her heart—especially for his son, Chad, now two years old. Though it surprised her, she had been overjoyed when John asked her to become Chad’s guardian should anything happen to him and Sarah. John’s adoptive parents had died years ago, and Riley sensed that Sarah didn’t much like her own family.

She glanced at the faint glimmer of the golden letters on her Bible. She needed to pray about this decision and give herself time to consider the possibility. But she felt so far away from the Lord. Weeks had passed since she’d read His Word. With her demanding job, she hadn’t made time to meditate on scripture. If she prayed for an answer, would she even hear God over the continual distractions?

Peace eluded her.

Someone pounded on the door to her apartment. Riley froze. Why would anyone disturb her at this time of night? Her heart raced. She sent up a prayer for protection, hoping that God would hear. The banging continued, forcing her out of bed. She slipped on her robe, crept to the door, and looked out the peephole.

Eric!

Shocked that he stood on the other side of the door, she backed away.

She wanted to throw open the door to give him a piece of her mind for disturbing her in the middle of the night, but she thought better of it. He swaggered back and forth then leaned against the door, mumbling her name as he pounded.

He’s sloshed!

“How dare he.” She stilled, realizing her mistake. She didn’t want him to know she was awake and standing by the door. In fact, for all he knew, she wasn’t even home but out of town on business, which was usually the case. A friend could have taken her to the airport.

Panic shuddered through her. She’d tried to end her relationship with him and had finally resorted to ignoring his persistent phone calls. At first, she’d gotten caught up in his career aspirations. But it quickly became clear that Eric was never content. He always wanted more. He wanted more from her, as well, but was unwilling to make a commitment, and she cringed at her own blindness.

Her stomach churned as Eric slammed his fist again. She leaned her head against the door, uncertain whether to answer him in order to tell him to leave. She backed farther away from the door. The man wasn’t even a Christian. “Oh, Lord. How could I have let things go so far? Forgive me.”

A neighbor’s voice echoed through the corridor. She looked through the tiny hole to see who it was. “What’s going on here? Can’t you see she’s not home?” Charles from across the hall stood in his doorway wearing shorts.

“Thank you,” she said softly, even though he couldn’t hear her.

“Mind your own business, buddy!” Eric slurred; then he disappeared from sight. Riley hoped he had a ride home in his condition.

She opened her door a crack then whispered, “Charles, is he gone?”

Charles had disappeared, as well, but then he burst through his door wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “I’m going to make sure that friend of yours doesn’t drive home drunk.” He ran through the corridor and down the steps.

Riley closed her door, locked the dead bolt, and stumbled to the sofa. She crumpled, her body trembling as she cried. Eric’s behavior was getting out of hand. She wiped her eyes and stared at the pair of gold-framed pictures on the wall, illuminated by the soft glow of a small accent lamp. The one on the right depicted a large palm tree waving in what appeared to be the Holy Land; it read Be Still and Know That I Am God. The one on the left portrayed a man looking up into the night sky; it read Seek the Lord While He May Be Found.

They were cheap, decorative gifts from a friend when she first moved into her apartment. As she stared at the artwork, she realized she’d never even stopped her busy schedule to consider what they said or meant.

Until now.

Despite Eric’s intrusion, the question of whether to accept her grandfather’s proposal remained at the forefront of her thoughts. She bowed her head and swallowed the knot in her throat. “Thank You, Lord. I think I have the answer before I even asked.”

She went back to bed and allowed exhaustion to overtake her.