The Living Room (11 page)

“Okay. Did you go over any of the details with her?”

“No, but she seemed excited to meet you. She remembers you from the law office but hadn’t made the connection between us. Before I left she mentioned hiring me to do some odd jobs around the place. There’s always something that needs fixing in an old house.”

“You can fix the toilet, and I’ll clean it,” Amy said.

Jeff was silent for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked. “You changed your mind so fast it kind of threw me off.”

“It threw me off, too, but I’m not upset with you. I need to follow through with this and see where it leads.”

The call ended, leaving Amy with a smidgen of guilt soiling her conscience. She knew she’d been hard on Jeff but couldn’t think of a way to apologize over the phone. She resolved to make it right before they went to sleep that night.

It was an overcast day that matched Amy’s mood. To get to Ms. Burris’s house, she followed the same route she used to go to the law
firm. It seemed longer than eighteen months since she’d logged off her computer and cleaned out her desk. She’d been a good secretary. Her work at Jones, Barrington, and Phillips was boring and mundane when typing a long document but challenging when rushing to prepare something for court.

The law firm was old-fashioned and stodgy enough that Mr. Phillips expected his personal secretary to wear dresses, skirts, or nice slacks. The senior lawyer always came to work in a coat and tie, even after some of the other attorneys adopted business casual attire on days they didn’t go to court or meet with clients. As she turned onto McDonald Street, Amy knew dresses wouldn’t be her working wardrobe at the Burris home.

Up ahead, she could see the two-story brick house with the large holly bushes and white gazebo. The front yard was billiard-table flat and carefully manicured. The outside trim of the house had a fresh coat of white paint. The new windows installed by Jeff’s crew blended perfectly with the style of the house. Amy knew her husband made sure each window was mounted as carefully as a painting in a frame. She pulled into a semicircular driveway that looped in front of the house. Her car looked out of place, unless, of course, it was the maid’s vehicle. She walked up a brick sidewalk to the front door. There was a huge lion’s-head brass knocker, but she pressed the button for the doorbell and waited. No one came, and Amy checked her watch. It was 2:31 p.m. The door opened.

Ms. Mildred Burris was just as Amy remembered from the last time they’d crossed paths at the law office. Short, with carefully coiffed white hair and a wrinkled face, she was wearing a dark blue dress with a single strand of pearls around her neck. Her blue eyes almost matched the color of her dress. She squinted slightly at the afternoon sun that was shining in her face.

“Come in, come in,” Ms. Burris said in a soft Southern voice. “I remember you from Harold Phillips’s office. I knew you were special then, just not how much.”

Puzzled, Amy followed the older woman into a small parlor to
the left of the entrance hall. The furniture didn’t look as old as Amy would have expected. Ms. Burris had done more remodeling at the house than just replacing the windows.

“Why don’t you sit there,” Ms. Burris said, pointing to a yellow chair with beautiful floral upholstery.

“That’s almost too pretty to sit on,” Amy said.

“One of my great-nieces helped me pick it out.”

Ms. Burris sat to Amy’s right on a love seat. The upholstery on the love seat was more subdued than the chair but picked up some of the same colors. Amy glanced around the room. There were three paintings on the walls, each one intriguing enough that Amy wanted to step closer for a better look. A wooden secretary desk in the corner looked like an antique. The low table in front of the love seat had an interesting swirl design in the wood around its edges. If Amy had to clean a house, this would be a nice one to keep tidy.

“I love this room,” Amy said.

“You’re sweet, but it’s just a shadow, isn’t it?”

Amy raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Ms. Burris smiled, which made her blue eyes almost close.

“Tell me about you,” Ms. Burris said, scooting back in the love seat. “I want to hear everything you want to share.”

“I worked at Jones, Barrington, and Phillips for twelve years after my husband and I moved here from Jacksonville, Florida. We have two children, a fourteen-year-old girl and a boy who’s ten. The last six years at the law firm I was Mr. Phillips’s secretary. I left my job there a year and a half ago to devote my time to writing. I’ve written two novels and hope to start a third one soon.”

“I read the article in the paper about you. I think it mentioned that you’d worked for Harold. Your picture caught my eye, and your husband showed me a photo of you and the children on his phone.”

When Amy’s first novel was released, the paper printed a local interest piece about her that included a shot of Amy sitting at her computer pretending to write.

“Yes, there was a kind quote from Mr. Phillips mentioning how proud he was of my accomplishments.”

“Harold doesn’t dish out praise very readily, does he?”

“No, ma’am, he doesn’t. Anyway, I’m looking for a part-time job because writing inspirational romance novels isn’t very profitable, at least at first. I’m very punctual and reliable. Mr. Phillips can verify that. And I’m a hard worker—”

“Especially when you put your head on the pillow at night,” Ms. Burris said with a smile. “Not many people learn more about God’s kingdom while they’re asleep than awake.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open. She felt an immediate mixture of shock and a hint of anger at Jeff. He knew how much she valued her privacy.

“Did Jeff tell you about my dreams?”

“No,” Ms. Burris replied with a wave of her hand. “But I like him. He’s a good man.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I saw you asleep with your head on a stone and Jacob’s ladder reaching up to heaven. The interpretation seemed clear enough to me.”

Stunned, Amy didn’t know what to say. Ms. Burris sat on the love seat and blinked her eyes. The old woman didn’t seem in a hurry to help her.

“When did you see me?” Amy asked.

“One afternoon while your husband was here. I wasn’t sure what to do about the vision, but when he asked if you could come over to talk to me about a job, I knew it wasn’t just so I could show you around the house. We needed to meet. Would you be kind enough to tell me a little bit about your dreams? When did they start?”

Ms. Burris’s tone of voice was the same as if she were asking Amy to share tips about growing roses. Opening up to Natalie had been a huge step, but she was Amy’s closest friend. Amy had been talking on a personal level with Ms. Burris for only five minutes.

“I’m not sure,” Amy began. “I’ve had dreams since I was a little girl, but I’m not comfortable—” She stopped.

“I totally understand. We’ve just met.” Ms. Burris held up her hand. “I’ve not been blessed in the same way as you, but the older I get, the smaller the gap seems between this world and the next. I’m beginning to understand why the apostle Paul said he longed to depart this life for what lies ahead. I want to go, too, but not because I’m sick. My health is good. But the glimpses I’ve had of what awaits us are so wonderful that it’s almost more than my heart can bear. That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

Amy couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Did you think you’re the only person who walks with the Lord?” Ms. Burris continued.

“No, ma’am,” Amy responded quickly, then added, “But I’ve lived as if I were. Part of it has been self-protection because of the way people reacted to my dreams when I was a child. I didn’t want anyone to think I was crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, but you can’t deny you’re different.”

It was a simple, sobering truth that Amy had never directly faced. The words went straight into her heart.

Ms. Burris smiled, and Amy realized she might have bigger problems with fear and pride than her reluctance to clean a stranger’s bathrooms.

“The gifts of the Lord are like fruit trees,” Ms. Burris said after a few moments passed. “Branches grow in new directions and fresh fruit is produced. We don’t control the process. Our job is to remain connected to the trunk and share the fruit with those in need.”

“I’m not sure what that means.”

Ms. Burris leaned forward slightly. “Chapter 15 of the gospel of John isn’t just a metaphor about a vine with branches. It’s a true description of the spiritual life. Your gift is growing in a new dimension, isn’t it?”

Amy immediately thought about Noah, Natalie’s flowers, and Crystal.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve started receiving glimpses of the future in my dreams, and I don’t like it. I just want to enjoy the Lord’s presence and let him love me.”

“I understand. I’d feel the same way.”

The look in the old woman’s eyes convinced Amy that Ms. Burris really did understand.

“But there’s a bright side to glimpsing what lies around the corner,” Ms. Burris said cheerfully. “Because of the vision I saw, we’re having a nice talk today. Would you like a cup of coffee or hot tea? It was rude of me not to offer something when you arrived, but I was so excited to meet you.”

“I don’t drink coffee in the afternoon, but tea would be nice.”

Amy followed the older woman to the kitchen. It, too, had been modernized with new appliances and updated cabinets. A large island covered with decorative tiles was in the center of the room. There was a sunroom at the rear of the house. After the tea brewed, they went to the sunroom and sat in wicker chairs with comfortable, green-striped cushions. Colorful birds swooped in to eat at decorative feeders that were outside the sunroom windows.

They talked for more than an hour about Amy’s life and family. When Natalie’s name came up, Ms. Burris wanted to know all about her and suggested the three of them get together for lunch. The older woman deflected Amy’s questions to her about herself. Then they prayed together. After Ms. Burris said, “Amen,” Amy couldn’t remember when she’d felt so refreshed and encouraged. Standing at the front door about to leave, she turned around.

“Ms. Burris, if you’ll let me, I’d really love to come to work for you.”

eight

A
my wouldn’t tell Jeff the details of her visit with Ms. Burris until after supper, when both children were upstairs in their rooms doing homework. She checked the stairwell to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Why all the mystery?” Jeff asked when they were seated on the couch in the family room. “You’re either going to work for her or not.”

“No,” Amy replied. “It was so much more than that. Five minutes into our conversation I was on the verge of telling her my deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Deep, dark secrets? What have you done that I don’t know about?”

“Nothing,” Amy replied. “But you know how hard it is for me to trust other people with private information.”

While Amy talked, Jeff’s normally impassive face revealed an unusually complex range of reactions.

“Did she say anything about me?” he asked.

“Nothing except you were a good man. But I already knew that.”

“I’m glad she didn’t have a vision of me with horns or something.”

“She’s not like that. When the Lord gives her insight into a person or situation, her response is to pray in secret or use the information to help in a practical way. That’s what she was doing with me. She wasn’t freaked out by the fact that I have dreams. She wants to help me.”

“Did she give you a tour of the house?”

“Just the downstairs. We ended up in the sunroom.”

“That’s a neat place. The kitchen is first-class, too.”

Amy paused. “Why do you think an older woman like Ms. Burris has gone to all the trouble to remodel her entire house?”

“She never told me.”

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Amy said and shrugged. “We spent at least an hour talking in the sunroom, and then we prayed together. It was a sweet time.”

“Did you talk about the job?”

“Not much, but before I left I told her I’d love to work for her. She smiled, wrinkled her eyes, and told me she’d call me.”

“Do you think she’ll hire you?”