Wildflowers (9 page)

Her momentum, however, came to a dead stop two days later when Leah handed her the phone and said, “It’s the delivery service for the new tables.”

Genevieve listened while she stirred the day’s soup in a large kettle. She couldn’t believe what the man was telling her.

“No,” Genevieve answered him, “it would not be okay for you to deliver the tables Friday. As I explained when I ordered them, I need them today because all of the old tables are being removed today.”

“I wish I could help you,” the man on the other end of the line said. “But like I said, we’ve had some delivery complications here at the warehouse, and the absolute soonest I can get the two tables to you is by Friday.”

“It’s not two tables; it’s twelve tables.”

The man paused before saying, “On the order form here, I don’t see a one before the two. Are you sure you ordered twelve tables?”

“Yes, I ordered twelve tables and four chairs for each table.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but according to the paperwork I
have, you only ordered two tables. I’ll have to call you back after I’ve checked the original order form.”

Genevieve let out an exasperated huff as she hung up the phone.

“Everything okay?” Leah slipped into the kitchen and scooped up two lunch plates.

“No. The order for the tables and chairs is a shambles!”

Leah paused. “Should I tell Seth not to come with the delivery truck this afternoon?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to let Shelly down. She needs the tables for her May Day event Saturday.”

“Which reminds me,” Leah said. “I have to talk to you about that. Let me serve these lunches, and I’ll be right back.”

Genevieve prepared a tuna sandwich and a chicken salad sandwich while waiting for Leah to return. Leah served the prepared sandwiches and then bustled back through the swinging door. “About the May Day event. Would it help if I took some of the food over Friday evening and set up things in the camp kitchen? I told Shelly I’d help her with table decorations, and I thought I might as well take the food when I go.”

“Yes, that would be very helpful. Thanks, Leah.”

“No problem. And let me know as soon as you find out about the new tables so I can give Seth a call.”

By that afternoon, Genevieve still didn’t know what she was going to do about the tables. The furniture warehouse hadn’t called back so she knew she would have to pursue them. Business had slowed down. Only four women sat in
the dining room at the corner table. They were sipping tea and sharing desserts.

Genevieve decided to use the phone in the dining room so she could sit down as she spoke to the delivery service and have all the information in front of her. She also thought it might help her to control her temper and to be more polite since the young women sitting at the window table could overhear her if they wanted to.

One of the women at the table, Jessica Buchanan, looked up and greeted Genevieve from across the room with a smile and a wave. Jessica, a gentle-spirited mother of three, had initiated this meeting time at the Wildflower Café a few weeks ago so several women could participate, without their toddlers, in an informal Bible study. The group previously had met at Jessica’s beautiful Victorian home. Genevieve had been invited numerous times to join them, but she had declined the invitations over the months, saying that her work schedule was too busy.

At least, that was the reason Genevieve gave. The real reason was that she was nervous about making a commitment to keep up with the study. Years ago, when she had jumped into Bible Study Fellowship with both feet, she had been searching for answers and direction in her life. Now she was hiding. Hiding from her husband, from herself, and although she hadn’t admitted it yet, hiding from God beneath the tangled vines in her heart’s garden. The last place she wanted to be was around women who were out in the open.

“Yes, this is Genevieve Ahrens calling back for …” She
checked the warehouse invoice in front of her. “Is it Jack?”

“One moment please.” A click was followed by music while Genevieve was put on hold. Of all things, the music was Christmas carols!

She held the phone far enough away from her ear not to be bowled over by the sound of sweet silver bells. Without intending to, Genevieve heard every word the women in the Bible study group were saying.

“My favorite verse in this chapter is definitely verse 6,” one of the women said. She had warm, brown skin and thick, curly, brown hair that fell over her shoulders. Genevieve had seen her in the café before, and she knew it was possible she had met her, but Genevieve couldn’t remember her name.

“It seems so crazy,” the woman said, “that Jesus would walk up to this man, who is lying there, paralyzed, and ask him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’ I mean, what paralyzed person wouldn’t want to be healed?”

Genevieve heard the music stop and held the phone up to her ear. “Hello?” It was only a pause on the music track. Strains of “Feliz Navidad” came pounding through the receiver louder than the silver bells had been. She turned the phone away and listened to the women with her back to them.

“I wrote down verse 6 as my key verse, too,” another woman said. “Why do you think Jesus asked the paralyzed man if he wanted to be healed?”

“I thought about it a lot, and I asked Gordon—”

One of the women cut in. “No fair getting input from
husbands when they’re pastors!”

The other women laughed.

Genevieve remembered the identity of the woman with the warm brown skin. Her name was Teri, and her husband was the new pastor at Glenbrooke Community Church. Leah had been talking about Teri and Gordon ever since they had arrived from Hawaii. Genevieve knew all about how Teri had taught at the high school with Jessica years ago and how Teri and her Australian husband had twin boys in kindergarten and a baby girl. They were living temporarily with Jessica and her husband, Kyle, since the Buchanan mansion on Madison Hill was large enough to be a hotel.

Genevieve wondered what a pastor’s wife would say about wanting to be made well. After all, Genevieve knew what it was like to be stuck in a paralyzed state emotionally. She had been that way a long time. No one had ever asked her if she wanted to be well.

“Gordo and I got into a big discussion about how sometimes we get stuck in our lives and in our routines.” Teri’s voice carried across the room as clearly as if she were speaking directly to Genevieve. “The paralyzed man in John 5 certainly had the routine down pat. He spent every day at the same place, doing the same thing, with the same blind and lame people.”

“You know what?” Jessica said. “Excuse me for interrupting, but it doesn’t specifically say that this man was paralyzed. It just says that he had an infirmity for thirty-eight years.”

“You’re right,” Teri said. “I hadn’t noticed that. It doesn’t
specify his particular problem, which makes this verse even more applicable to my life and what I was going to say. This man had been in this same routine with his problem, whatever it was, for thirty-eight years. Jesus comes to him, asks if he wants to be made well, and instead of simply saying yes, the guy gives the excuse that no one will help him.”

Another woman spoke up. “And then Jesus heals him anyhow, right there, regardless of his excuse.”

“Yes, exactly,” Teri said. “That’s why I marked this verse. I think it’s possible to have an infirmity of some sort and live with it as a routine for decades. It’s possible to forget that Jesus Christ has the power and the desire to heal us. We just find excuses and keep living with things as they’ve always been. But He is such an incredible, loving Father that He overlooks our weakness, even our inability to respond to Him correctly. He looks right at the heart, and He …”

“Y-ello. This is Jack.” The voice on the other end of the phone jolted Genevieve back to the task before her. She felt her neck turning red and her cheeks burning.

“Yes, um.” Genevieve cleared her throat and tried to collect her thoughts. “I, um, this is … I spoke with you earlier. This is Genevieve Ahrens. I’m calling back about the order for the maple tables and chairs.”

“Right,” Jack said.

“Were you able to find the correct order for twelve and not two tables?”

“I checked with several people on that order, and it looks as if the salesman made the mistake when he checked the inventory. We don’t have twelve tables in that style
anywhere on the West Coast. The only other distribution center that carries that set is located in South Carolina, but it only has one set left. It’s a discontinued model. I don’t know if the sales rep told you that.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“What would you like me to do about your order? We can ship two tables out to you by Friday, but it would take at least ten days to get the other table from the East Coast.”

“That’s still only three tables.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’d like to cancel my order,” Genevieve said as calmly as she could. “I’ll call the salesman who placed the order and tell him I’ve authorized you not to deliver the tables to me Friday.”

“I sure am sorry about the mix-up.”

“I am, too.” Genevieve hung up the phone with a sickening feeling in her stomach. Dialing the number for the salesman, she tried to center all her attention on the problem at hand, even though part of her wanted to fly over to the table where the women were discussing the Bible. Her thirst for truth and encouragement was overpowering.

Focus on this project
.

She knew the aching in her spirit would subside if she could divert her attention and dive into a huge project. It always worked in the past. Today, it was difficult.

She made the call, left a brief phone message for the salesman explaining the problem, and asked him to call her back. Then she bent her head over the file folder, as if studying the order form. She really was listening to the women,
half afraid to hear any more yet not able to turn away. To her disappointment, they had concluded their discussion.

“Before we close,” Jessica said, “I was wondering what the rest of you thought about adding half an hour to our meeting time. This hour went too fast.”

The others agreed, and the time was set for two-thirty next Wednesday at the Wildflower Café. Then Jessica prayed. Genevieve kept her head bowed over her order form with her pen in her hand and her eyes opened slightly. She loved listening to Jessica pray.

With earnest words she asked for God’s blessing on the women gathered at the table. She prayed for their husbands and their children, and then she added words that seemed to sweep across the room and wrap their arms around Genevieve.

“Thank You for bringing Genevieve and her family to Glenbrooke. Father, bless her for all she has done in providing this wonderful place for us to meet. I thank You for the way You have used her to renew the hope of so many by bringing beauty into our little downtown area. Please give her Your peace and Your joy. I pray this in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ, who is the great healer of our lives. Amen.”

With her heart pounding wildly, Genevieve rose from her table and slipped into the kitchen. The light from these women was too bright. All she wanted to do was go back into hiding.

Genevieve wasn’t alone when she entered the kitchen. Leah was talking to Brad, who had come over from his computer store next door.

“Hey, Gena,” Brad greeted her. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Brad. I’m okay. How about you?”

Brad Phillips had recently gotten his hair cut shorter than Genevieve had ever seen it in the six years she had known him. She guessed he was trying to get used to the role of respectable father of two toddlers that he would soon be experiencing.

“We just had a power failure next door,” Brad said. “I’m surprised your electricity didn’t go off as well. I reset all the circuit breakers, but that didn’t do any good. I think I overloaded all the old wiring once and for all. I made a couple of calls on your phone. My lines are all goofed up.”

Leah held out the last crumbled slice of chocolate cake on a plate to Brad with a fork. “What are you going to do?”

“Pray,” Brad said before shoveling the first bite of cake into his mouth.

Genevieve knew his answer was serious. Brad and Alissa had become very serious about praying ever since they decided to adopt the two girls from Romania. The process had taken more than ten months so far, and they made it known that they were praying their way through every day of it.

When the couple had arrived in Glenbrooke several years ago, Alissa had opened a travel agency next to the café called A Wing and a Prayer. Her logo was a globe with two angel-like wings. Brad expanded the idea when Alissa and Brad switched offices, and he opened up his computer shop while she moved her office home. Brad’s business logo was a computer sporting little wings and tilted upward, as if flying
off to heaven. He welcomed defunct computers that were ready to “wing their way to oblivion.” He had customers sign a document that said they were willing for their ailing units to be “organ donors.” Brad offered the customers credit for software and then he cannibalized the old computers. The old parts fed his on-line business of providing and shipping spare parts of outdated computers all over the world. That was how he and Alissa first connected with the orphanage in Romania.

“This is delicious.” Brad took another bite of cake.

“We call it Meri’s Midnight Madness,” Leah said. “The recipe came from Shelly’s sister, Meredith. It’s made with dark chocolate and mayonnaise. Isn’t it good?”

“There’s mayonnaise in this?” Brad said. “You’re kidding!”

Genevieve reminded herself never to tell the men what went into the desserts.

“What happened with the order for the tables, Gena?” Leah asked.

Genevieve explained the situation, and Brad said, “Why didn’t you tell me? I can order you tables. I can get you anything you need. Or at least once I have power back so I can go on-line. How many tables do you want?”

Genevieve showed Brad her order form with the style of maple tables she originally had ordered. “At this point, I think I’d rather spend more to buy the oak tables, but I don’t want to have to deal with the same company anymore.”