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The Waiting

By Carol James

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“When I am forced into God’s waiting room to wait for answers to hard questions in silence, He waits with me.” Alice Chapin

Katherine Herrington eased her most prized possession—a rainbow stack of spiral notebooks—out of the cardboard moving box and gently placed them on the upper shelf in her old closet. Sandwiched between an outdated combination CD-cassette player and two stacked shoe boxes full of fashion dolls and their twenty-year-old ensembles, those irreplaceable pages contained the last fifteen years of her life.
As the sweet perfume of Mom’s star jasmine drifted in through the gauzy sheers billowing across the open bedroom window, the evening breeze carried the memory of the words she’d heard so often. Katherine, enjoy the moment. Be spontaneous. Mom had always thought she was inflexible, too rigid, but that wasn’t true. She was just a planner. While some people kept journals, she made lists. Looking back at all the check-marked entries and seeing what she had accomplished was satisfying.
Besides, had Mom been more like her and a little less spontaneous, she might still be with them. After all, having your life in order, wanting to know what to expect, was no crime. Organization was a good thing. In fact, tomorrow she’d go to the store, buy some plastic containers, and whip this closet into shape. She would have done it tonight, except for...The
Date.
“Beth?”
Katherine smiled. Cassie was the only one who still called her that.
“Can I come in?” The door cracked open just enough for Katherine to see her sister’s blue eyes dancing with excitement.
“Sure, sweetie.”
Cassie burst through the door and dove into the middle of the old iron bed with the level of enthusiasm only a thirteen-year-old girl who hadn’t yet been on her first date could have “Aren’t you excited?” Sitting cross-legged, she bounced with anticipation.
No. “Cassie, it’s just a date. Nothing more.” Katherine was long over the tears of frustration she’d shed privately after Dad had told her he and one of the church ladies had set up this date with Crescent Bluff’s newest bachelor. Dad was the only person she’d do this for. She was sick of blind dates.
The women at her church in Dallas had meddled in the same way. They meant well but hadn’t seemed to understand that, if and when He wanted to, God would bring the man she’d prayed for since middle school into her life. He wouldn’t need their help, or anyone else’s for that matter. A year ago, she thought He had, but now—maybe not.
Anyway, tonight was the last blind date of her life. ”I’m only going because Dad set it up, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He means well.”
“But, Beth. This guy could be The One.” Stars filled Cassie’s eyes.
Katherine smiled. Who was she to destroy Cassie’s fairytale optimism? “You’re right. You never know, do you? I imagine he could be.” She sat down on the bed and hugged her little sister.
Cassie’s head rested on Katherine’s shoulder. Her voice was hushed. “I’m glad you lost your job.” She bolted up. “I mean, not glad you’re not working but glad you could come back home. I miss Mom so much.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know. Me, too.‛ Katherine eased her sister’s head back down onto her shoulder and stroked her flaxen hair. Losing Mom had been heartbreaking, yet Katherine had, at Dad’s insistence, returned to Dallas and resumed some semblance of a normal life. But now with no job, she’d had no other choice but to come back home. That is, unless she counted collecting
unemployment and living with friends or on the street viable options.
The deep hum of a car engine vibrated the old wood-framed windows. He was here.
Cassie jumped up and peeked between the curtains. “Wow! Awesome car.” She turned back and grinned, the tears gone. “Come look.”
Katherine moved behind her sister and peered over her shoulder. Some sort of red sports car sat at the top of the circular drive. Impressive to guys maybe, but
not to her. Cars were a means of transportation, nothing more. They should be reliable and sensible, not flashy.
As the driver’s side door opened, Katherine held her breath. Here we go. A man dressed in jeans and a plaid western shirt stepped out. Her heart groaned. Not only was he short, but he was bald. Or maybe his head was shaven, but the only reason a twenty-five or thirty-something-year-old man shaved his head was because he was either bald or balding. Short and hairless were not on "The List." A knot formed in her stomach. Unfortunately, it was too late to conjure up
an illness.
“Oh, he’s so cute.” Cassie placed her fingertips together and clapped them excitedly.
They couldn’t be looking at the same man. Katherine blinked slowly and then refocused her eyes. No, nothing had changed.
Cassie jumped up. “I’ll go let him in, but you hurry. Hurry.” Twirling out of the room, she closed the door.
Katherine kicked off her heels and placed them on the rack in the closet. Then she slipped on a pair of flat sandals. Hopefully the change in shoes would solve the height problem.
As the doorbell rang, Cassie’s footsteps echoed down the hall through the closed bedroom door.
After taking one final look in the mirror, Katherine retouched her lip gloss and ran her fingers through her hair. She sat on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and counted slowly to ten—and on to twenty. For Dad, she could stand almost anything for a few hours. Plastering a smile on her face, she opened the door and inched down the hall toward the living room. Let the
fun begin.
Cassie was curled up on one end of the couch with her feet tucked under her, and the back of The Date’s bald head arched above the top of the leather recliner. Wonder how Dad would have reacted if he’d come home and seen a stranger trespassing in his chair. Terms like “PK, dribbling, striker” were flying back and forth between the two. Soccer. Maybe The Date
had more in common with Cassie than with her. If Cassie were only a little older.
“Oh, hi, Beth.” Cassie jumped up. Her grin was almost wider than her face.
The Date stood and turned toward her, a large bundle of pink tulips in his hands. He was actually kind of cute...for a short, bald guy. “Hello, there,” he said. “I’m Sam. Sam Tucker.” His voice was deep, his accent unusual.
Certainly not Texan, not even southern. Midwestern…Northeastern... She couldn’t quite place it. “You look lovely this evening. These are for you.‛ He held out the rosy bouquet, and as he smiled, his eyes sparkled like sunlight on ocean waves.
It was like looking into the Caribbean from the deck of a ship. She fought to keep her balance as the deep aquamarine pools pulled at her like an undertow at South Padre.
He cleared his throat as he pushed the bouquet closer. “Perhaps you’d like to place them in some water?”
“Beth?” Cassie stepped forward and took the flowers from him. “Here, I’ll do that for you. Thanks, Sam.”
“Greatly appreciate it, Cassie.”
“You guys have fun.” Waltzing into the kitchen, Cassie left them alone.
“So, Beth, is it”‛ He held out his hand and smiled again.
Oh, great, she’d made a stellar first impression. As she found her breath, her voice followed. “No. Katherine. Katherine Herrington.” She grasped his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” The sightline from her eyes to his was an upward angle. He wasn’t short after all. He was definitely taller than she was, just not as tall as Clark. She had changed shoes for
no reason.
“Katherine.” He cocked his head to the side, raised his eyebrows, and pressed his lips together. “OK. Katherine it is then. Pleased to meet you, as well.” He extended his crooked elbow for her to take. “Ready?”
Or not... “Ready.” She took his arm, and he led her out the door to his car. The clean scent of his cologne was like a fresh summer breeze.
As he held her door open, he spoke. “So, Cassie tells me you like Tex-Mex.”
What else could Cassie possibly have told him in those few seconds they were alone? She shouldn’t have stalled and let her sister greet him.
“There’s an old restaurant on the highway toward Fort Worth,” he continued. “The Cantina. I haven’t been there in a while, but they used to have live music and the best fajitas around. Or if you’re not in the mood for Mexican, we could do sushi in Dallas.”
Sam closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver’s side. He must not have put much thought into planning their date if he hadn’t even decided on a restaurant. But being given a choice was kind of nice, and while she didn’t really have a preference, The Cantina was closer and would most likely mean an earlier night and a shorter date. So,
Mexican, it was.
After climbing into the car, he buckled his seatbelt and placed the key in the ignition. He turned to face her. “So, what’s your preference, Katherine?”
“How about The Cantina? I haven’t been there in quite a while, either.”
“All right! Tex-Mex it is.” As he pushed the gearshift forward, he smiled and winked at her. “Spoken by a man in a state of great relief. Not much of a sushi fan, I must say.”
She stared out the windshield. He’d set himself up, and she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to take advantage of his admission. “Of course, I’ve always heard it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.” Glancing left out of the corner of her eye, she continued, “And I do love sushi.” As his face reddened, she sighed for effect. ‚Let me think. You know, on second thought, sushi actually sounds wonderful.” The redness now covered his entire head. He was quite cute when he was embarrassed. “Dallas is farther away, but it’s early. Maybe I would like
sushi, after all.”
As they reached the stop sign at the intersection of the highways, he turned toward her, one arm resting on the seat back, the other on the door. “Decision time. Which is it? Left toward Fort Worth or right toward Dallas? You decide.”
“Let’s see...such a hard choice.” As the pick-up behind them honked, she jumped. “Left.”
His eyes laughed. “Only if you’re sure. I certainly wouldn’t want to make you do anything you wouldn’t enjoy.”
They needed to go. “Yes, I’m sure. Left. Go left.”
He made no effort to grasp the steering wheel. “I mean, if you really want sushi, I’d be happy to oblige.”
The truck honked again. “Sam! Left, left.”
His forehead wrinkled in thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I should give sushi another try. I might learn to like it, you know.”
The driver behind them laid on the horn. “Sam, left, please. Left. Now.”
A smug look covered his face. “Only because you insist, Katherine. Only because you insist.” The car burst out onto the highway.
Sam shifted quickly through the gears until the car flew up the road toward Fort Worth.
Probably trying to impress her. She sank back into the quilted, black leather seat that felt more like a wingback chair in a den than a car seat. OK, she’d humor him. “Nice car.”
He smiled. “Thanks. It’s my new work car.”
Certainly not the typical company car, at least not like any she’d seen before. “So, tell me, what exactly do you do?”
As he shifted one more time, she gripped the arm rest and ignored the inner voice demanding she look at the speedometer.
“Nothing at the moment. I’m on medical leave, and I’ve come to my aunt’s to recuperate for a few months.”
“Medical leave?” The lack of hair...oh no, chemo. She’d been so judgmental, so insensitive earlier. But she couldn’t possibly have known. Other than the bald head he looked so healthy.
“Yeah, knee surgery. Blew it out playing football.”
So, knee surgery wasn’t exactly life-threatening, but the ride to the restaurant might be. Her heart raced while fence posts, highway signs, mesquite trees, all whizzed past her window as one continuous green-brown-gray blur. They were going way too fast.
“But to answer your question, I’m currently in PR—Public Relations, that is—for an athletic organization.”
“I know what PR means.” He must think she’d been living under a rock somewhere. “I have a business degree.”
“Me, too. An MBA. That is—“
“I know what that means, too.” Even though he tried to cover his mouth, she saw his grin. He was baiting her.
“So, how about you, Katherine? What do you do?”
As she grabbed the console, she finally obeyed the voice of self-preservation. The needle reached to almost one hundred on a dial that ended at two hundred. “Please tell me the numbers on the speedometer are in kilometers.”
The revving of the engine eased as he looked down toward the dashboard and downshifted. “Whoops. Sorry. I’ve only had the car a few days, and I’m still getting used to the feel. Had no idea we were going that fast. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She relaxed her grip and took a deep breath. “Oh, no. I wasn’t scared. I just don’t want you to get a ticket. The highway patrol routinely has a speed trap set a few miles up the road.”
The smirk on his face told her he wasn’t buying her explanation. “Thanks for your concern.” The speedometer now hovered at seventy. “So, what do you do?”
“At the moment, I guess you could say I’m on leave, too. Not medical, though. Economical. About nine months ago, I went to work for an auditing company in Dallas, and when the economy tanked, so did my job. Last to be added, first to be subtracted.” That was more than enough information for a first—and only—date.
“Well, that’s a good reason to move back home. You plan to look for a job here?”
The sun had slipped behind the horizon setting the few stray clouds on fire. She couldn’t see sunsets like this among the skyscrapers in Dallas. “No. My boss—ex-boss—said he’d call me when things picked back up. Plus, my dad needs my help right now. He has to go overseas for a few weeks, so I’ll take care of Cassie. Then we’ll see what happens.”
The car slowed slightly. “My aunt told me about your mom. I’m terribly sorry.”
Despite her will, tears filled her eyes, and she turned to look out the window at some pretend point of interest. “Thank you.” She couldn’t say any more. She wanted to go home. She wasn’t ready to do this, after all. The pain was still too raw to share something so intimate with a stranger. But then again, she couldn’t let Dad down.
He had only arranged this date because he loved her, and no matter how uncomfortable the next few hours would be, she would not disappoint him.

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