Monday Morning Faith (7 page)

My enthusiasm knew no bounds. I wanted to lasso my tongue and lash it to my hip. “But I understand they're not encouraging tourists in Matamoros — too dangerous anymore.”

“We'll be staying close to the border. It's not as threatening — ”

“Oh, I'm sure you're very cautious. Nurses, huh?” I leaned closer. “Pretty ones?”

“Not as pretty as you.”

“How nice! You are a good man, Sam Littleton.” And
blah
and
blah
and
blah
, until I'm sure the man's head was spinning like Linda Blair in
The Exorcist.
Sam ceased trying to interject and in the most polite way allowed me to make a complete idiot of myself.

Finally, he leaned against the counter. “It's a short, unexpected trip. I'll be back before you know it.” His eyes searched mine. “You know me, Johanna. I'd always wanted to do more than fill a pew.”

The simple declaration hit me square between the eyes. Pew filling was what I did best.

“I hope you have a good experience, Sam. You'll have my prayers.”

I meant every word. He was an exemplary person. God had done a good work in this man. Sam would be as dedicated in Matamoros as he would on the Papua New Guinea mission field: as caring, sympathetic, and determined to do what he believed God wanted him to do.

Most important, he would be away from Saginaw. Which meant I could get my priorities straight.

“Thank you. We'll have a lot to talk about when I get back.”

Was that a hint of relief I heard in his voice? I shoved my glasses up on the bridge of my nose.

He leaned closer and I caught a whiff of his cologne. “I'll bring you back something special. Painted gourds? Twenty-dollar Rolexes?”

I laughed. The man had a sense of humor. My breath caught. “Oh, Sam. I do hope you have a wonderful time and the trip is all you pray it will be.”

He smiled and his eyes looked deep into mine. “I'll miss you, Johanna. Your prayers and support mean a lot to me.”

“I'll miss you too.” My support? He'd miss my support?

Well, of course. I didn't expect more.

He straightened. “Well, I'd better go. Got a lot to get done before I leave.”

I had a great need to give him something, like women in historical times giving their knight a memento to carry close to their hearts into battle. I fingered the scarf at my throat, then cold reason stepped in. I'd scare him to death if I gave him a personal item. He'd think I'd lost my mind.
Support
, the man had said. We hadn't reached the commitment stage, and I had no reason to think we ever would.

I held out my hand. “Go with God.” How easy the platitude rolled off my lips. Before I would have thought nothing about the phrase; now I asked myself if I believed the blessing.

He held my hand a fraction longer than necessary, his eyes looking deep into mine. “Take care. I'll be back before you know it.”

He left and I stared after him, depression closing around me. A week wasn't all that long, but it seemed like an eternity. I'd miss our discussions over cups of green tea. I'd even gotten Sam to switch from coffee a couple of times. I'd miss seeing him pop in and out of the library, miss this gentle, good man who had become a very dear friend.

Good heavens! I was about to burst into tears! Horrified at the thought, I retreated to my office, where I closed the door and sat in the silence for a good long while.

I'd known I'd miss the good doctor, but I'd never imagined how much. I'd be working in my office and see a flicker of movement, then look up expecting to see him walking by. The stab of disappointment when I remembered he was gone worried me. Sam was a tempting diversion, but even if he should show more than a hint of interest in me, Mom and Pop had a prior claim.

On Friday, Nelda paused in the doorway. “Heard anything from Mr. Good Looking?”

“Of course not. Why would I hear from him?” And why would I tell her if I did?

“Thought he might call or something.”

“He's deep in Mexico. He's not thinking about me.”

She wiggled her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “He doesn't have e-mail?”

“How should I know? He's in the boonies — I don't think they make an extension cord long enough to reach him.” I was being stubborn and facetious — and loving it.

She flicked a nonexistent speck of dust off her lavender sweater. “Are you sure he's only interested in the research?”

I laid a folder on my desk. “Have you seen my pair of scissors?” Someone was always taking my stuff.

Nelda laughed. “Changing the subject, are we?”

“We are. Have you seen the scissors?”

“They're on my desk.”

“On your desk. I hate it when you borrow and don't bring back.”

She shrugged. “Don't have a cow. I'll get the scissors. Back to Sam — ”

I heaved a sigh and threw up my hands. “I'm not looking for a man. I like my life the way it is!”

“
Fine.
I have nothing more to say on the subject. Sorry I mentioned it — I just think you're trying to hide from life.

You're using your parents as an excuse to hibernate. You'll never catch a man's interest unless you try!”

“Don't forget my scissors!” I called after her retreating back. Sheesh. Why didn't people put back what they borrowed?

I grabbed a piece of paper and stared at it. Nelda didn't understand my situation. No one understood. Mom and Pop needed me. Neither Sam nor anyone else could expect me to leave them alone. Besides which, Sam had never even brought up such a subject, let alone discussed it.

I sniffed. Nelda was wrong. I wasn't
hiding
from life. Using my parents as an excuse to avoid a risk. That was nonsense — so like Nelda.

Before closing time a repentant Nelda stopped by my desk. “Look, I'm sorry I shot off my mouth. I need to learn to mind my own business.”

“That's all right.” I was in a forgiving mood.

“No, it isn't all right. We're friends and I want the best for you, but sometimes I get carried away. Forgive me?”

I sighed. “Sure. I know you meant well, but I can't see any way the situation can change. I'm happy as I am.”

“Okay. Friends?”

“Always.” I was lucky to have her. Not everyone wanted to be friends with someone who had very little free time for socializing. Somehow we had managed to forge the bonds of a strong relationship, and my life was brighter because of her.

FOUR

S
aturday I took Mom to the store and dry cleaners. Sunday, to church. That was the extent of my weekend. I caught myself staring out the window a lot, daydreaming about Papua New Guinea. I should never have done all that research. I knew as much about the place as Sam did, and missions were starting to sound interesting.

But that didn't concern me as much as the fact that Mom and Pop were acting odd. I caught them whispering back and forth, but they fell silent the moment I entered a room.

“Are the two of you up to something?”

Pop grinned, eyes as innocent as a newborn calf. “What makes you think that?” He'd regained his strength from the recent hospital episode.

“Call it a hunch.” A very strong one. “I haven't seen Margaret in a few days. Where's the ole broad been hanging out?”

Mom glanced up from her knitting with a frown. “Johanna.”

I sighed. “Has Aunt Margaret called in the past couple of days?”

Pop chucked. “As a matter of fact, she was here yesterday. Wanted to know if you were still interested in Harvey. Wanted to remind you that several women at church were giving him the eye, but you were his first choice.”

I choked on the jelly bean I'd just popped in my mouth. “What part of
no
doesn't that woman understand? Tell her I forfeit all rights; the other women need to make their move and he can take his pick.”

“Line forms on the right,” Pop agreed. “She's correct on one thing, though. You need to get out more. I thought maybe you were showing some interest in this Sam your mother met at the hospital.”

“Sam's heart is on missions, not women. He's in Matamoros right now, doing mission work.”

Mom tsked. “He won't be gone forever, will he?”

Had she been talking to Nelda? “He'll be back — to leave in January for two months.”

“Let's see, he's been gone how long?”

“Seven days.” Three hours and forty-three minutes. Not that I was keeping track. I just happened to do a lot of clock watching.

“Well, I'll wager a steak dinner he'll be around to see you the moment he gets back.”

“Please, Pop.” I dropped another jelly bean in my mouth. “Sam Littleton is a friend and a library patron.” Well, maybe a tiny bit more, but that wasn't the point; the point was that between Mom, Pop, and Nelda, I was feeling pressured.

Pop sent Mom the “look.” She nodded and bent to her cross-stitch. They were up to something. I'd bet a cow on it.

Monday I came home from work to find them waiting for me in the living room wearing expressions that stood out like a black snake in a bathtub. Something was going on, and I had a hunch I was about to find out what.

Mom grinned. “Honey, could we talk to you a moment?”

I'd had a rough day, meetings and year-end budget problems. The last thing I needed was more hassle. “Can it wait until after dinner?”

“We're having pizza delivered. Harriet, it can wait until Johanna has a chance to catch her breath.” Pop returned to his newspaper.

I dumped my book bag and purse on the sofa. What was this all about? “Are you all right?” Was there a new health problem I didn't know about?

“We're fine. We have a little something we need to discuss with you, that's all.” Pop reached over and took Mom's hand. “We're here alone all day and the isolation gets boring. We've discussed this at length and our minds are made up.”

I looked from one to the other. “About what?”

Mom's chin lifted, her lips firmed. “We don't want any argument from you about this. Our decision is firm — and final.”

“What decision?” Why didn't they just come out and say it! The suspense was killing me.

Pop glanced at Mom. “We're moving into assisted living.”

I gaped at them. “You're … what?”

“I said we're moving — ”

“I
heard
that! What I didn't hear was why you would even
think
of such a thing. Aren't you happy here?”

Why hadn't they just stuck a stick of dynamite in my ear? It would have been less of a shock. Assisted living? When had this come up?

“Of course we've been happy, but we think it's time we made a change.” Mom picked a thread off her blouse. “I know this surprises you.”

Well, yeah. Ear. Dynamite. “I don't think this is a good idea — ”

“It's settled, sweetie.” Pop's voice was kind but firm. “We've taken care of the paperwork; we're moving Saturday.”

“
This
Saturday? That's less than a week!” My voice squeaked like an unoiled hinge. “I can't get you packed and moved in that length of time!”

“We'll be limited on what we can take.” Mom refused to look me in the eye. “I've already started packing what we need. It won't be that big a job. We're going to love living at The Gardens.”

I threw my hands in the air. “I can't
believe
you're doing this.” In spite of my best efforts, tears welled up in my eyes. “What about me? What will I do if you leave?”

“You'll get a nice apartment close to work and you will have more time for yourself.”

“I don't
want
more time. What's wrong with the way things are now? What will we do with the house?”

“Oh, we'll not be in any hurry to sell. We'll let you get settled before we put the place on the market. Megan said she thought she already had a couple of interested parties. Good neighborhood, you know, ideal starter house for a young couple with small children.”