The Wedding Caper (6 page)

I arrived
at the house in breathless excitement. Sasha met me at the door, equally as
pleased. We celebrated my victory together. Then we headed to the kitchen,
where I cooked a low-fat dinner: grilled chicken breasts, broccoli, and a
salad. I even mixed up a batch of sugar-free brownies, just for fun.

Warren
arrived home at six thirty, as always. He commented on the healthy glow in my
cheeks and I kissed him squarely on the lips in gratitude. A glance in the
mirror let me know I did look healthier. And I felt healthier, too.

Why, in
no time I would be in tip-top shape. I would chase suspects down back alleys,
if that
was
what the Lord had in mind. And I’d catch ‘
em
too.

Chapter Six

I like to call
them “Sheila-ism’s”—the funny,
off-beat
things that
slip out of my friend Shelia’s mouth when you least expect them.

Like the
time I complained about the appearance of a few wrinkles and she came back
with, “I prefer to think of my body as a dried-up raisin—age has just
condensed its sweetness.” Or the time I chided her for not offering adequate
support when a dispute with a mutual friend turned ugly and she retorted, “What
do I look like, an underwire bra?”

When in
doubt, I reach for a Shelia-ism. And I awoke on Tuesday morning in dire need of
one. For one thing, my eyelids appeared to be the only thing working on my
anatomy. For whatever reason, my back felt cemented to the mattress. And when I
finally managed to sit up—truly one of the most painful feats ever
accomplished by mankind—it took at least a minute or two to ease my legs
over the edge of the bed.

With
little else to do but sit there, I forced my mind to race backwards through
time in an attempt to figure out why my body had chosen to fail me. It took a
while to figure out what had happened.

Ah, yes.
The gym. Ten minutes on the elliptical machine.
Ten on the
treadmill.
Ten on the bike.
Five
on the Stairmaster.
(How anyone in the world could handle more than that
was beyond me.) From there, with Fitness Rep Joey’s help, of course, I’d hit
the weight-bearing machines, making the rounds to every single one.

Was it
any wonder I could barely move this morning? I might never move again.

I crawled
from the bed to the tub.
Just leaning over to turn on the hot
water proved excruciating.
Surely, after a long soak, all would be well.

I let out
a cry as I eased my body down into the water. Sasha put her front paws on the
edge of the tub and gazed over in sorrow, as if sensing my pain.

On the
other hand, she might be experiencing a little pain of her own. Horror set in
as I realized I had forgotten to let her out to do her morning business.

“Hold it
as long as you can, little girl,” I encouraged. “I’ll try to hurry.”

Yeah,
right. I leaned back against the bath pillow and closed my eyes. I tried to use
the opportunity to pray, to seek the Almighty for His will concerning all of
this. I found it difficult to focus, though I gave it a valiant effort.

Yesterday’s
scripture verse played back through my memory a thousand times over: “He must
increase, but I must decrease.”

The Lord,
who usually spoke to me in gentle whispers, appeared to be shouting in my ears
this morning. Okay, so I had to admit, the verse had little to do with my
weight. It had everything to do with my ego. I needed to let go, give the Lord
full control of every area of my life. I had become entirely too
self-sufficient, and that needed to change.
Immediately, if
not sooner.

My throat
tightened—a warning sign that tears would soon follow. Why fight it?
While the Lord “had” me, I might as well let Him deal with me.

And
obviously He had a lot to deal with. As He began to point out problem areas,
the lump in my throat grew until I could barely swallow. Whether I wanted to
admit it or not, ambition had become my friend. Somewhere along the way, the
insatiable desire to prove something to
myself and others
had taken precedence.

Had I
really been chasing around after some sort of illusive dream, all in the hopes
of freeing my husband from guilt? Why couldn’t I just take Warren at his word?
Had he ever given me reason to doubt him in the past?

A lone
tear trickled down my cheek. I would’ve brushed it away, if my arms and fingers
had cooperated. Instead, it plopped down into the soapy water, making itself at
home. I lingered for a while against the edge of the tub and took the time to
truly repent for my silliness over the past few days. I thought of Warren and
the great sacrifice on his part to make sure we had the funds for the weddings.
Common sense told me he must’ve cashed in an IRA to come up with that money.
Doing so must have broken his “We won’t touch this until our retirement” vow.
And all for the love of family.

My heart
swelled with overwhelming love for the man. Yes, he had surely proven himself
trustworthy, and I’d been childish to doubt his actions or his intent. From now
on, I would return to being his helper, his lover,
his
friend. I would cease to be his judge and jury.

Even if
it meant I never found the actual perpetrator. Even if the crime went unsolved
forever. I would follow the Lord’s leading and only go where He wanted me to
go. The words rushed out in a heartfelt prayer:

“Lord,
You’ve got my full attention this morning. I am sorry for taking the reins away
from
You
. Again. I ask
You
to
forgive me for running out ahead of You. Help me, Father. I want to do the
right thing. If
You
want to use me in this, then I
want to be useable. If it’s not of
You
, then take the
desire away. And Father, if
You
want to use me in some
other way entirely, show me. I’m Yours,
Lord.
. . .”

The
presence of the Lord suddenly shook me to my core. I somehow knew that He
wanted me to do something, something specific. With fresh tears running down my
cheeks, I responded. “Yes, Lord. I’ll do that.”

As
soon as I can get out of the tub.
I had apparently been sitting so long the water had turned cold. And if I
thought getting in had been tough, I had made no psychological preparations for
getting out. The process took a good ten minutes, if you counted the toweling
off part. And all the while, Sasha whimpered in agony.

Finally
dry—and nearly standing aright—I slipped on my robe and inched my
way down the stairs and toward the back door. I had no sooner opened it than
the frustrated puppy bounded out and located a spot to relieve herself. I filled
her dog dish with a can of Macho Mutt—her favorite—and went about
the task of preparing breakfast. With Warren and Devin already gone after
tending to their own breakfast, I settled on a piece of toast and a cup of hot
tea. Earl Grey, of course.

My knees
didn’t seem to want to bend, so I opted to stand while I ate. The pain in my
back eventually forced me to lean against the countertop. I somehow managed to
nibble the toast and sip the tea. Out of the corner of my eye, something
grabbed my attention. There. Up on the bar. The newspaper.

I reached
for the Clark County Gazette and nearly dropped my teeth as I read the
headline: BURGLARY SUSPECT FREED

The story
focused on Jake Mullins, describing in some detail his release from jail after
several rounds of questioning. Though the police still felt they “had their
man” they simply couldn’t provide adequate evidence to support their
suspicions.

I
whispered
a “Thank You, Lord!”
for
Janetta’s
sake, though my heart twisted a little. With
Jakey
temporarily out of the picture, I couldn’t help but
wonder.
. . .

No. Don’t
do this today. You’ve got your marching orders. Use ‘
em
.

I pressed
the paper aside and headed to the bedroom to begin the very tedious process of
dressing. Though usually quite selective about my attire, I decided this wasn’t
the day to fret over the trimmings. Forget the jewelry. Limit the makeup. Wear
the comfortable gray slacks and black
turtle-neck
.

In short,
stop worrying about what people will think. Just be
yourself
.

With a
song of praise on my lips, I eased my way out to the car. After a brief stop at
the new gift store on Wabash, I pulled the car out onto the highway, and
pointed it toward Philadelphia.

Yes, the
Lord would surely guide my every step today.

By the
time I reached the parking lot of Mercy Hospital, my nerves were once again an
issue. I quickly settled them with a bit of prayer: Lord, I know
You
’ve sent me here. Show me how best to honor
You
and to reflect Your love. May I truly decrease, Father,
so that
Your
heart can shine through.

Now, I’m
not one for hospitals. Never have been. The creepy feeling that runs over me
every time I visit a patient probably dates back to an episode as a youngster
where I fainted at the foot of my grandmother’s hospital bed.
Something about the smell, perhaps.
Still, the Lord had
given me a sense of direction for today’s visit. Surely He would see me through
this.

I paused
at the front desk to ask for the room number in question. East Wing 146. Then,
with a Lord, help me on my lips—and the tiny gift in my hand—I
wound through the halls, following the signs, the backs of my calves aching
every inch of the way.

When I
rapped on the door of room 146 a gentle voice from inside beckoned me to enter.

I found
Judy Blevins in far worse shape than I had imagined. If I’d taken the time to
visit her even once over the past few weeks, I would
been
better prepared. She sat, completely alone in the stillness of this barren
room, to face the ongoing treatments for pancreatic cancer.

“Annie.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke my name, and her extended hand reached
for mine.

I placed
the tiny gift box on the table, then sat at her bedside and gripped her willing
fingers. “Judy, how are you feeling?”

She drew
in a deep breath before answering. “I’m blessed, Annie. Blessed by The Best.”

The same
answer you’ve given for years. But how are you, really? “You’ve been in my
prayers and the Lord specifically laid you on my heart today.” I mustered up a
smile.

“Did He?”
Her eyes filled once more and I found mine brimming, as well. “Well maybe
there’s a reason for that.” She went on to explain the results of her latest
round of tests.
None of them good.
As she shared the
news, I couldn’t help but notice the confidence in her voice, the calm. She
closed with simple words, but they shook me to the core. “You know, I’m ready
to go, Annie. If the Lord chooses to take me, I can live with that.”

I had to
look twice into her twinkling eyes to catch the attempted pun. “Oh,
honey—”

“I’m not
afraid.” She whispered the words, almost like a prayer.

Lord,
what do I say? “I’m so proud of you, Judy. And I’m going to keep praying. We
all are.”

“I
appreciate that. But please—” Her eyes lit up at this point, “Let’s talk
about something else. Something fun. Tell me all about the girls, the weddings.”

Ah. Thank
You
for the diversion. I dove into some of the more
humorous details concerning Brandi’s plans. I told Judy about our meeting with
the in-laws, and I laughed as I slipped into Southern gear once again. You can
take a girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.

Judy
laughed too. In fact, she laughed so hard, she set off her heart monitor and a
nurse entered the room in a bit of a panic. Judy assured her all was well, and
we were left alone to our own devices once again.

I would
have forgotten to give her the tiny gift box altogether if I hadn’t noticed it
out of the corner of my eye. I offered it to her with great joy, hoping she
liked what she found inside.

Sure
enough, she “oohed” and “
aahed
” as her gaze fell on the
tiny glass ballerina. She clutched the little figurine to her chest and
whispered the
words,
“I don’t believe it!” several
times over.

“What?”

Her eyes
moistened as she spoke. “I’m sure it’s going to sound so childish, but I always
wanted to take dance lessons as a little girl and my parents could never afford
it.” A dreamy look took over. “I used to do these silly moves all around the
living room like little girls do, pretending I was on a big stage. I’d
forgotten all about it until recently.”

I fought
to hold back the emotion as she continued on.

“See,
about three weeks ago I started telling the Lord I wanted to dance. The desire
just—returned. And—” here her voice broke, “He told me I could.
Very soon.”

I wanted
to say something, but couldn’t. The presence of God washed over me afresh and
tears filled my eyes. The oddest conglomeration of joy and sorrow came in waves
and kept me in utter silence for quite some time.

Judy
didn’t seem to notice. She continued to run her finger across the delicate
ballerina, a look of sheer delight on her face. She eventually placed the tiny
glass dancer on the bedside table, and we dove back into conversation. However,
I couldn’t help but notice she paused every few minutes to give it another
happy glance. Funny, how such a little thing could mean so much.
And funnier still that the Lord would have spoken so clearly to my
heart to purchase that particular item.