Stranded in Paradise (22 page)

“Well,” Tess straightened, pasting on a smile, afraid she would cry. “I need to be going.”

Mona got up and opened the door. “I suppose there is one thing you could do for me.”

“What's that?”

“I'd like to have a PlayStation.”

“PlayStation? One of those computer toys?”

She nodded. “Roy's old Nintendo is just about to give out on me. I'd sure enjoy a PlayStation, maybe a few extra games—if that wouldn't be asking too much.”

“No— I'll send you a PlayStation when I get back to Denver.”

For an instant Tess looked deeply into her mother's eyes, and she wanted to believe—oh how she wanted to trust that what she saw in the faded brown gaze was more than regret for lost years, maybe even a hint of love for her.

“Bundle up tight. It's cold out there,” Mona said.

She obediently fastened the bottom button on her coat, and pulled on warm gloves. “Take care of yourself, Mom.”

Mona nodded. “You too.”

19

Airport gift shops were about as personal as a blender for Christmas, but Tess found a stuffed cat that looked a whole lot like Henry. She purchased the cat, and included the toy with a large box of chocolates and had the gifts mailed to Stella along with a note thanking her for her hospitality. Stella had offered more than hospitality; she had offered new insight. Tess had sadly been lacking in that commodity. Stella also offered friendship. Friendships took time to cultivate and nurture. Over the years Tess had worked too many long hours and weekends to develop close relationships. She needed to change that.

As she was paying for the chocolates, her eyes centered on a box of nuts and she thought of Len, whose frantic calls she had yet to return. They would serve as a succinct answer to his pleas for help.
Nuts to you.

“I'll take a box of nuts, too.”

“Certainly.” The clerk reached behind her and snagged a five-pound assortment of almond Macadamias. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes. I want to enclose this note with the gift.” She scribbled a brief message that read, “Thanks, but not interested. Tess.” She handed the card back to the woman. “Will those go out today?”

“Sometime late this afternoon.”

“Thanks.”

Tess left the shop, pausing outside long enough to blow air out of her cheeks. She still had to send the check for the airline ticket, but it was over.

Man. She gave the air a jubilant right hook. That felt good.
Really good.

Groundhog Day arrived on the heels of a Denver blizzard. Punxsutawney Phil emerged from his burrow and saw his shadow, so weather forecasters predicted winter would hang around for another six weeks.

Trudging through nine inches of snow with more falling in the mall parking lot, Tess huddled deeper into the lining of her wool coat. By the looks of the empty lot, not many Denverites were out shopping today.

Inside the sprawling Denver Mall complex, Tess stomped snow off her boots and made her way to B. Dalton's bookstore. On the flight home from Indiana two days ago she'd come up with a plan—an “enlighten Tess” strategy. There was no way on earth that she was going to read and understand the King James Bible, but logic said there were other ways to learn about the gospel.

Thirty minutes later she carried her purchases to the counter. She didn't blink when the clerk perused the two titles:
The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Bible
and
No Brainer's Guide to the Bible
.

Back in her own habitat, she shrugged out of her coat and boots and emptied the sack of reading material on the sofa. Wielding a yellow highlighter, she started to read. Noon passed, and she didn't break for lunch.

Late afternoon, she ate a handful of Ritz crackers and some bologna. When she came to a thought or paragraph that she questioned, she highlighted it. Rereading her scribbles she realized that every other line in the first two chapters was highlighted. And this was the easy version.

By nightfall, instead of Dan Rather's voice filtering from her apartment, Tess's mystified exclamations of “Huh?” and “Oh, now how can that be?” or the occasional “Give me a break” shattered the silence.

But after reading most of the day, she slept better that night than she had in a long time. When she awoke in the night she tried praying. Her novice attempts were halting at first. She prayed about the weather—and Herb Franklin's continuing good health. Stella's name came up once or twice. Carter's more than twice. She felt a sense of peace overtake her, a sense that she was no longer alone. God could be trusted because He loved her—He loved Tess Nelson.

The following morning, she found herself talking out loud as she dumped coffee grinds to make a fresh pot.

That night Carter was still on her mind—she sincerely hoped that he wouldn't look back on his time in Maui and remember Tess Nelson as a nut case who'd spoiled his vacation.

Reaching for the phone, she called Beeg. When her college roommate's voice came on the line, she grinned. “Well it's about time.”

“Tess! Is that you?” Beeg squealed. “I'm so sorry I missed you—When are you coming to Maui again?”

She sank down to the sofa, speechless. “Do I have a story for you.”

For over an hour, she told of her exploits and how she'd weathered
Alana
in paradise. Bee Gee told her about the damage to her shop—most everything had been lost; insurance covered the building but couldn't come near to the value of her lost artwork.

“Stella DeMuer—the old movie queen? You stayed in Stella DeMuer's beach house?” Beeg exclaimed when Tess told her about her accommodations after the fire.

“She's wonderful, Beeg. Could you go visit Stella sometime? She's so lonely, and you would love her.”

“Sure, I've always wanted to see the inside of her home. Does she really wear a cat around her neck?”

“Henry.” Tess grinned.

Beeg's tone had softened. “You sound different, Tess. Happier. Have you met someone?”

Had she met someone? Carter's face flashed through her mind. Besides the Lord? “Could be—and I am happier, Beeg. I've been reading the Bible lately.”

“Yeah? Me too! I've been going to church with a guy. You know, there could be something to this religion thing.”

“Yeah,” Tess agreed. “I think there really could be, Beeg.”

That night she dug Carter's home phone number out of her purse and dialed Chicago. She knew the games women were supposed to play—don't be pushy. Wait for him to call. Don't appear too needy.

Well, Carter's and her relationship wasn't Romeo and Juliet's. But she wasn't going to play any games. If he mistook a simple phone call between two acquaintances to be anything other than innocuous, that was his problem. She drummed her fingernails on the end table as she listened to the first ring.

Then two.

Three. Her heart took a nosedive. He wasn't home. She wondered if he'd stayed in Maui. She absently flipped the remote to the Weather Channel.

On the fifth ring, Carter's voice came on the line. “Hello.”

Relief flooded her. “Hey. I was about to hang up.”

“Hey—is this Tess?”

She sat back on the sofa, closing her eyes. It felt so good to hear his voice. Suddenly it seemed the weight of the world had lifted from her shoulders. “Ms. Unlucky Charm in person.”

His tone modulated. “Hi, Girl.”

“I see you made it back to Chicago.”

“Smooth as silk this time. What about you?”

“We had to deplane for a couple of hours because of a security breach—the airlines never said what kind of a breach. After that the flight was uneventful. So, how are things? Back to work yet?”

“Not yet. I'm scheduled for next week, though.”

They chatted about nothing. Then about everything. She had forgotten how easy he was to confide in.

“Hey,” he said.

“What?”

“When's your birthday?”

“July fourth. Why?”

“No kidding. July fourth? I woke up in the middle of the night last night and remembered you hadn't included that with your address.”

She smiled, recalling the night of the hurricane and the candid sharing of their lives as they sat on Stella's cold garage floor.

“When's yours?”

“July fifth.”

“No way.”

“Why would I lie about my birthday?”

“Well.” She debated the next line. The “rules” would strongly advise against it. “Maybe we'll share a birthday cake this year.”

“Sounds good to me. I hope you like German chocolate.”

“I love chocolate of any nationality.”

They laughed.

“I like you, Nelson.” This from Carter.

“I like you too, McConnell.”

“Exactly when do you think that happened? When I handed you the package of tissues at the airport? Or maybe it was over the luggage carousel when you had such charitable thoughts about my stealing your suitcase.”

She felt color dot her cheeks. “I think it was . . . about the time you looked at me as if I'd lost my mind on the hotel fire escape and you had to haul me down two flights of stairs.” They laughed and then a comfortable silence lengthened.

“Are you back at
Connor.com
?”

“No. I'm not going back. I figure I can trust my future to God.”

“That's great, Tess. Really great to hear.”

She stalled, aware they'd been talking for over an hour, but she needed to tell him that she valued his integrity, his kindness . . .

She bit her lip. “Hey, call me sometime.”

“You too. I'm home most days. If I'm not leave a message and—”

“You'll get back to me.” She laughed.

When he spoke this time there was unevenness in his tone. “I think about you a lot.”

“I think about you, too.”

“What's the weather like in Chicago?” She needed him to keep talking so she could hear his voice.

“It sleeted today.”

“Here, too.” Dead air. “Well . . . talk to you soon.”

She replaced the receiver and sat alone in the apartment.

The phone shrilled. She sat while the instrument cycled and the answering machine picked up. Len's agitated voice came over the line.

“What's with the box of nuts, Tess? And this note: ‘Not interested.' Are these nuts supposed to represent your answer—some kind of a joke—is this your way of getting even? Have you lost your
mind?”

Smiling, she rested her head on the back of the sofa. Maybe she had, Len. Right now it sure looked like it.

20

Tess came home from the post office Thursday afternoon to find a large manila envelope jammed in the mail receptacle. She had been waiting almost a month now for the right job opportunity to open up. She hoped this would be the answer to her prayers. Maneuvering the wrapper free, she caught her breath and held it when she saw that the letter was from Caltron—one of Denver's largest pharmaceutical companies.

Inside was the prize she sought. Was she available for a ten o'clock appointment on the eighteenth?

Was she ever.

The morning of the interview, she dressed carefully in a red wool suit and white silk blouse. She studied her image in the mirror, trying to decide if she should wear her hair up or down, changing earrings twice before she was satisfied that she looked appropriately professional.

Glancing at her watch, she picked up her purse and started out the door. Then she stopped. Her nerves were side straddling her backbone.

Tossing her purse onto the couch, she dropped to her knees. She'd taken to praying more and more in the past month, until now; she couldn't imagine
not
taking her concerns to the Lord. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, desperately wanting to get this right.

“Dear Father in Heaven.” She paused. “Dear God. You have been so faithful to me, even when I wasn't aware of it. Help me to trust You, to know that no matter how this turns out, You're in control. I only need You—to know You more.”

She relaxed once the words were said. A peace came over her.

“I desire to know and receive Your Spirit.”

And she did—oh, how she did
.

“I give You all my doubts and insecurities. I willingly place every facet of my life in your hands, Father—I surrender all.” Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes; she'd have to redo her makeup. “I respectfully remind You that there will be more times when I'll want to take it all back than times I will walk solely in faith, but I pray Your grace will not allow me to remain in the darkness for long.

“I need to know that You are walking beside me— every day. I ask for the faith that Carter and Stella have— I want the peace and assurance as I leave this room today that my life is no longer temporal, but eternal, in Your service. . . .”