Authors: Dee Henderson
Joe had brought her home, then left when Liz arrived. The delivery van had arrived about forty minutes later. Kelly didn’t have words to describe her reaction to Charles’s latest gift. The first dozen roses in their cut glass vase had been gorgeous, the second dozen stunning, and by the sixth vase Kelly had gone through pleased, stunned, bemused, and had finally settled on laughter. Ryan had been right about his dad—he did say thank you in extravagant ways. Liz was convinced Charles was smitten.
“The vase yesterday was my son’s suggestion for thanks; the roses are mine.”
“You do have a nice way of showing your appreciation.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Her doorbell rang. “I hear the door; I’ll let you go,” Charles said, then softly chuckled. “Have a good afternoon, Kelly.”
Kelly put down the phone and had a sneaking suspicion he had known that the doorbell would ring. She raced to answer the door.
The deliveryman looked startled at the abrupt reception.
“Another gift from him?” Liz asked as Kelly signed for the box and gave the man the last dollars in her purse as a thank-you. This had to be the last delivery today. She was officially broke until next payday.
The box was beautifully wrapped in gold paper; the card bore the logo from one of the exclusive shops in San Diego Kelly had never dared venture into. She took a seat on the couch and set the box in her lap. “He wouldn’t have.” She looked helplessly from it to Liz.
Her friend shook her head. “I’m not the one he apparently has a crush on.” Liz tapped the card with a grin. “Only one way to find out.”
“If it is from Charles, I’m returning it,” Kelly said firmly, not sure how to stop what felt like a dream afternoon. She was both flattered and flustered with the attention; she couldn’t accept something like this. She opened the card.
Thanks doesn’t cover it, and roses will eventually fade. Enjoy.
“It’s from Charles,” she said quietly, handing Liz the card. Intrigued even as she was overwhelmed, she opened the box. “Oh my.” A shimmering blue silk dress lay within the folds of tissue paper. Kelly set aside the enclosed envelope to open in a minute and lifted the dress from the box. It was a designer original, of that she was sure—a classic cut, understated elegance in every inch of the dress. She stood, held it up for consideration, and saw he had correctly guessed her size.
“The man has good taste,” Liz said.
“He needs a wife to tell him not to spend his money.”
Liz burst out laughing, stood up, and hugged her. “You rescued Ryan. It’s only fitting that Charles rescue you—he’s throwing you a wonderful lifeline back to the world of guys and dating.”
Liz had no idea how on target her words were; only it was Joe that Kelly had her eyes on, not Charles. The idea was terrifying no matter what name she used. “What am I supposed to do? Flowers are one thing, this—”
“Why don’t you see what he had to say?” Liz offered the envelope that had also been in the box.
Kelly handed Liz the dress, then accepted the envelope. She withdrew a single sheet of paper with Charles Raines III on the letterhead.
In the water, you told Ryan you had a love affair for the ballet.
Swan Lake
, in these circumstances, sounds appropriate. I hope you have a wonderful evening.
Kelly glanced at the two tickets for next month’s performance and recognized some of the best seats in the house. Then she read the last lines of his note:
PS: I hate ballet. If you want company, I’ve got two tickets to a hockey game.
She burst out laughing.
Charles . . .
She would keep the dress. From his perspective it was a nice thank-you for saving his son’s life. That this gift represented her salary for a couple of months was beside the point. “I don’t have his number to call and say thanks. And I bet it’s unlisted.”
“Smart man. He’s not letting you get noble and reasonable.”
“He is being unreasonable.”
“Romantic is never unreasonable.”
* * *
“Charles, you really shouldn’t have bought me a dress.” Kelly was glad he had called back. She pinned the phone against her shoulder as she folded laundry. It was going on 8 p.m., her house was beginning to be less of an embarrassment, and she was enjoying the chance to talk to him.
“I couldn’t resist. My business headquarters are across the street from the shop, and I’ve been passing that dress in the window every day at lunch. I knew it would be perfect for you.”
“Would you at least make it the last gift? I’m grateful, but you’re overdoing it.” She didn’t know how to handle this attention. She liked Charles, liked the fact she could have a relaxed conversation with him, and really liked his son, Ryan, but she wasn’t ready to accept a date with him. Too much had happened recently. She wanted a few days to adjust before saying yes to an invitation from Charles.
How was she ever going to explain that vase, all those roses, and the dress to Joe? her friends? She set aside the folded towel.
“You gave me back something more precious than money could ever buy. It’s the least I could do.”
“I was glad I could help. But I’ll tell you what—I’ll accept the dress if you promise no more gifts.”
She heard him sigh. “Are you always this difficult?”
It felt good to be able to give him a hard time; joshing with a guy was fun. “Yes.”
“Now you warn me.” He paused, and she could well imagine him formulating new tactics in some master plan. “Okay, no more gifts. As long as you promise to enjoy the night out.”
“The ballet—I guarantee I will. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
“Please—” she could almost hear his wince—“take Joe.”
Kelly had to laugh. Joe hated the ballet. She had a feeling Charles knew that too. “I’ll find someone. Maybe my girlfriend Liz. She was impressed with the roses, by the way.”
“As long as you were too.”
She glanced across at the bouquet on the living room table. “You made an impression.”
“I didn’t want to miss your favorite color, and if I just sent you a dozen red roses, you would think I was angling for a date.”
“You mean you’re not?” She bit her tongue, appalled she had asked the question. As the quiet stretched out, she felt her face begin to flame with embarrassment, suddenly mute when she desperately needed words to get her out of this situation.
“You didn’t mean to ask that, did you?” Charles asked softly into the silence. “Should I be a gentleman and pretend I didn’t hear it or the rascal I am and get you to say when? And in case you were in any doubt, if I thought you would say yes, I would ask in a moment.”
Kelly looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t say it.”
“Okay. But you owe me one.”
He had just proven he was both that gentleman and a rascal. “I can live with that,” Kelly replied, liking that image of him.
A phone rang in the background and Charles said, “I hate to let you go, but I’ve got an overseas call coming in.”
“Thanks for calling. Good night, Charles.”
“Good night, Kelly.”
She hung up the phone, grateful she had gotten out of that call with no more stumbles. She did love the gifts, even if she needed them to stop.
She carried the laundry basket of folded clothes into the bedroom to put away. The house was almost back in shape. By the time she opened the third drawer in her dresser, Kelly knew she had best pause and work here for a while. Neatness had slowly dwindled in importance, and the chaotic shape of her dresser drawers showed that fact. She found an empty box, sat down on the floor, and started to work.
Nick.
She had forgotten how many pictures and memories she had tucked away in the dresser drawers as it became painful to look at them.
The framed photo of Nick and Joe, both men smiling, standing beside their Zodiac in full gear—black wet suits, fins, breathing apparatuses, weapons slung. It was from a snapshot taken at a competition between dozens of two-men teams. They had placed silver that day and had come home laughing together, Joe razzing Nick for missing by an eighth of an inch the shot that would have given them the gold.
Kelly polished the glass in the frame. Joe didn’t laugh like that anymore. He was close to Boomer, but it wasn’t the same as it had been with Nick. She missed that laughter, that adventure Joe had always presented whether he was climbing rocks, sailing, or doing his job.
What had happened on that mission that had taken Nick from her? It had changed Joe into a quieter, more intense man. At times she saw him running the beach, lifting weights, pushing himself alone as he had never pushed himself when he and Nick were training together.
Lord, I know he misses his best friend. Should I offer him some of these pictures? They mean a lot to me, but I have a feeling they would mean even more to Joe.
She eventually set aside several she thought he would like and carefully boxed the rest. Kelly found a place in the closet and stored the pictures away. She had delayed letting go of Nick, wanting to hold on to someone, if only a memory. It was time to go on. And maybe, just maybe, it would eventually be with Joe.
* * *
Will heaven be this peaceful?
Kelly wondered. The night had quieted down to utter stillness. Kelly felt it settle into her body, mind, and heart. Utter peacefulness. She was falling asleep on the back patio lounge chair, but it was a comfortable enough spot she had yet to seriously consider getting up and going in to bed.
Her first day home.
Lord, it was a wonderful day. Laughing with Liz. Charles’s gifts. Joe’s phone calls just to check up on me. You opened my eyes today, that life without Nick can still contain laughter, joy, and fun. How do I say thanks?
The words of Psalm 16:11 came to mind, and with them a warmth that overwhelmed her. “Thou dost show me the path of life; in thy presence there is fulness of joy, in thy right hand are pleasures for evermore.”
Today had been God’s gift to her.
Thanks, Lord. You rescued me not only from the sea, but also from the despair I was sinking into. I won’t let life tear us apart again. I have missed You so much. Thank You for such a warm welcome home. If nothing else, the last few days have made me appreciate even more the friendship I have with Joe. He’s a good man, Lord.
Her thoughts drifted, centered on Joe.
He thought of her as a friend. And even if they could get past the obstacle of her being Nick’s widow, two more remained: the fact he was an active duty SEAL walking into harm’s way, and children. She had a hard time even thinking about being a SEAL’s wife again, and she had no idea if they shared a common outlook on having a family.
Lord, this is going to get complex. But the situation has revealed one thing—I’m ready to move on with my life.
Ten
* * *
Early Sunday morning, a pad of paper lay beside Kelly on the bed, an open Bible beside it. She had forgotten what it was like to be hungry for God’s Word. She was in the psalms, reading verses she had underlined through the years, hearing arise from the pages a powerful statement of God’s character. At Psalm 62, she paused again, impressed, and reached for her pen, writing down a few of the phrases.
“On God rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.”
“Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this: that power belongs to God.”
The words drew her to prayer, and she wrote her prayer in fragments beneath each of the phrases.
On God rests—
The responsibility, pressure, and outcome rest on You.
My deliverance—
I need to be delivered from the weight of expectations, mine and Joe’s, as I talk with him.
My honor—
I need to make wise decisions as I rebuild my life.
My mighty rock—
You don’t move when the hard times hit; I do. Help me hold on to You.
My refuge is God—
So many mistakes in the last three years make me hesitate to make decisions. I need this safe place with You no matter what mistake I might make.
Power belongs to God.
Kelly looked at that phrase for a long time before writing beside it—
You are the One who makes things happen and gets results. Please do that on my behalf in the coming weeks.
She reread the page, impressed with the depth of the promises in one short psalm. God was everything she needed.
Power belongs to God.
There was a promise in those words, a reassurance. Nothing was beyond Him. She’d left Him in the past as she sought refuge in herself. She had closed herself in her own pain. God had been there patiently waiting for her to seek Him out. She wiped her eyes at the realization. He’d been waiting for her to come back to Him and accept all of this: deliverance, a refuge, the power to deal with the situation that confronted her.
Lord, I’m back. Please be my refuge.
It felt good to pray again. To feel the assurance she was heard. She glanced at the clock and dropped her pen. She was late for church.
She scrambled to dress, grab her Bible, and leave the house. Her first Sunday, and she had blown her plan to get her act back together. She was going to be late. It was embarrassing. Friends would be looking for her arrival and would notice she was late.
The parking lot was full, and she had to park on a side street and walk back to the church. She heard the opening music as she stepped into the foyer. An usher was still at the back handing out bulletins. Kelly accepted one, then moved to the south door of the sanctuary to see if she could slip in unnoticed.