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Dial E for Endearment: Sweet Christian Contemporary Romance Novella (You Are on the Air, Book 4)

By Heidi Gray McGill

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Chapter One

Everly

The Devil Made Me Brew It is my favorite blend of coffee. Just the name puts a smile on my face even before the first whiff reaches my nose or sip hits my tongue. Here I sit at Camp Coffee Roasters on the edge of town in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, waiting for love and the steaming brew I am about to consume. Love seems to evade me.

As a radio talk show host who gives relationship advice, you'd think I would have good suggestions for how to meet that special someone. Online? On the air? At church or social functions? Maybe the old-fashioned way -- if that's even possible anymore? Or perhaps a blind date? I surmise I'd have more answers if I were out there in the dating scene myself. The only love relationship I have these days is with a cup of joe. At least he has a decent name.

“Here you go, Evie.” Jay, the owner, greets me the same way each morning—full of exuberance, his passion for what he does showing in the smile I know must be on his face because I can hear it in his voice. “What’s on the agenda for this lovely Friday morning?” The heavy clunk of the hand-thrown mug, followed by the sound of grit on wood as he slides it my way, brings with it a thrill.

Warmth emanates from the baked clay as I slide my hand across the table, entwining my fingers with the smooth glazed handle in a warm embrace. “Mmm.” He waits for my response until after I’ve had my first sip. “I thought I’d stroll Main Street this morning, then visit my mom this afternoon, before heading to work this evening.” Liquid sunshine brightens my day with each swallow.

“You’ll need more than coffee.” Jay knows most of my story, and I’m not sure if he refers to my trek through town or the impending visit with my mother. The sound of his slip-resistant shoes does not match what I expect he wears when he’s not working.

“Never underestimate the importance of being properly caffeinated.” I lift my mug in a mock salute.

“Yeah, well, the tourists are already here to see the leaves changing.” I hear his measured footsteps to my right. “Amanda made pumpkin cookies this morning. Care to try one?”

“If your wife made them, then absolutely.” The aroma of pumpkin spice tells me he has one ready to share—the bell above the door jingles before I utter my thanks.

“On the house. Send some tourists our way,” he whispers before greeting the new customer.

Familiar fall spices tease my senses. Not usually one to eat something so sinful first thing in the morning, I can’t resist. The smile that creeps over my face at that first bite is due mainly to the perfection of the cookie, but also because I cannot help thinking how blessed I am to live in this marvelous town in such a remarkable part of the country.

Just a few blocks up the hill off Main Street, my cozy 1930’s bungalow sits nestled amongst sizeable red maple and black gum trees, most likely older than the house and the town. I leave the large uninsulated windows open in the summer to keep the cool breeze circulating the non-airconditioned rooms. In the winter, plastic wrap, packing tape, and heavy draperies keep the chilly mountain air out.

I love my home, my street, and my town. I’m within walking distance of several restaurants and an excellent coffee shop. My weekends are filled with local events, a farmer’s market, and a church I attend when I can’t get a ride to the one I usually frequent in Boone. Even a grocery store is close, and I often go there when I need only a few items. I Uber everywhere else.

The familiar sound of a satisfied customer sipping his coffee fills my ears. I lift what remains of both my coffee and the cookie. The corners of my mouth join in. “You should try one of these. It goes perfectly with the coffee.”

“I might just do that next time. Thanks for the coffee, Jay.”

“My pleasure. Tell your wife I said, ‘Hi,’” Jay calls to the man as the bells sing their familiar tune. I hear Jay move my way. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Evie. I’ll get that.” The clink of my mug on the now empty plate catches my attention.

“Thank you. I could have gotten it. And, thanks again for the pumpkin cookie. Tell Amanda she outdid herself this time.” Unfolding my red and white cane, I stand and push in my chair before slinging my backpack over both shoulders.

“Will do, Evie. See you tomorrow.” The bells jingle again, and I hear Jay’s genuine greeting to his new customer.

“See ya,” I murmur. Even after all these years without my sight, I still use the common phrase. Wham!

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” The exasperation in the man’s voice shows his frustration and embarrassment.

“No worries. I didn’t see you either.” I hear Jay snicker as I head out the door, ready to tackle the day.

***

“It’s always a beautiful Friday night in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. You’re listening to JOY radio with host Everly Johnson. We’re ready for our first caller. Welcome, Jane. You’re on the air. What brings joy into your life today?”

The caller’s pause always seems odd to me. Every time I start an interaction on the air, I ask the same question, so it isn’t a surprise, especially if they listen to the show each Friday night. I have my reasons for asking. I figure if they focus first on what they are thankful for, then maybe it will cut down on the whining.

“Um, Hi, Everly. I guess the rain. I mean, we’ve needed it, so that means I don’t have to water….”

Still listening to Jane, I motion to Scott, my station manager and best friend, using the all-too-familiar hand signals to let him know I am getting feedback in my headphones. My fingers run across the bar in front of me as I simultaneously focus on the caller’s familiar story and cue up a song that matches her circumstances.

“Well, Jane, I sympathize with your situation. Loneliness is a challenging place to be in life. A friend once told me that it is better to be single and alone than married and alone.” I pause only long enough for my words to sink in. “I have found my church family to be the best place to find connection and the true love I crave. Immersing yourself into the lives of others will fill you deeply.”

“But don’t you ever get lonely being single?”

Inwardly I cringe at Jane’s question. “I have the perfect song for you, Jane. Restless by Audrey Assad reminds us that no matter how anxious our hearts may be, there is rest in God’s house and with His people. I encourage you to find a place of worship, someplace where you feel God’s presence through His people and hear His words through the teaching. Then, find a way to serve. Turn your sorrow into joy.” The first notes of the song accompany my words. “Thank you for your call tonight, Jane. We’ll be right back with Christian Singles Advice on JOY radio after this song.”

Scott beeps in before I have my hand on my Yeti of chamomile tea. I love coffee, but more caffeine probably isn’t a good idea after what I learned during this afternoon’s visit with my mother.

“You okay, Everly?” The concern in Scott’s voice is evident.

“Sure,” I lie through the smile on my face. My time with Mom this afternoon hadn’t been what I expected, and I am still struggling. Bringing my problems to work is never a good idea, and I need to get my head on straight. Scott reads me like a book, one with plenty of dogeared pages.

“Well, these flowers might help.”

He must be holding them up since I hear Walt telling him to be careful not to spill the water on the equipment.

“Expensive bunch this time. No carnations.”

No doubt, the arrangement came from Bless Your Heart downtown. The man is clueless. I can no more see what Scott is holding than I can see the future.

“Thanks, Scott. I’m sure they are lovely. Put them in the break room, and I’ll take them to Mom in the morning.”

“Want me to read the card?”

I imagine Walt shaking his head as I hear him whisper, “Seriously, dude. No wonder you’re single.”

“That’s okay, Scott. Thanks though. Time to get back to our callers. Do you have another lined up and ready?” I interrupt, already knowing the answer.

“Marcus from Boone. Sounds like a college student.” Scott says his familiar 3, 2, 1 in my headphone to let me know I am on the air.

“I’m so glad you could join us on this rainy Friday night, Marcus. What brings joy into your life this evening?

“Am I on the air? Hello?”

“Happy Friday evening, Marcus.”

“Well, uh, okay, um….”

There is always at least one of this type of caller on the show each Friday evening. This guy hasn’t planned out his thoughts and needs some assistance.

“Marcus, what one thing brought you joy today?” I repeat my familiar phrase.

“Oh, yeah! So, I hung out with these friends after class today. And there’s this girl. She’s, she’s….”

Again, I help him along. “Smart? Funny? Kind?”

“No. She’s deaf.” I detect a chair squeak in the background. “And, I mean, yes.”

“Yes?” It’s like pulling teeth getting information from this guy.

“Yes. I mean, she is super smart, funny, kind, and…” he pauses slightly, “she’s smokin’ hot.”

It takes effort to keep from laughing, but I school my features. I know my facial expressions come across the airwaves through my voice. I place a practiced smile on my face before answering.

“Marcus, she sounds lovely. Are you thinking of asking her out?”

“I don’t know. What would we do? Where would we go?”

“Just because she’s deaf doesn’t make her different from a hearing person. I’m guessing that if she enjoyed your time together this afternoon, she might be willing to do something fun with you. How about a walk? You know, Moses H. Cone Memorial Park is one of my favorite places to hike.” I shouldn’t have said that on the air. Remaining anonymous is hard, and small bits of information are like fuel to some people’s fire.

“Yeah! That might be fun. Or maybe kayaking. She likes stuff like that.”

I listen as Marcus works through options for their potential date and marvel at how often in my life I’ve wished for someone who would see past the white cane I carry. I must have daydreamed a moment too long, for I hear Scott’s tap in my headphones.

“Marcus, it sounds like you’ve got a great plan. Thanks for calling in tonight, and I wish you the best.” I end the call and immediately pick up the next.

“You are on the air, Bill. Can you share with our listeners something that brought you joy today?”

“Hi, Everly. Yes, today was full of joy. My daughter delivered my first grandson this morning.” I hear what sounds like a tissue braising the mouthpiece of his phone. “She named him after my dad.”

The quick intake of breath and rise in the tone of the last word confirm my suspicions: Bill is emotional. Tears on the air can be a challenge. An emotional caller often gets loud, or their words take on a high-pitched tone, making listeners uncomfortable. The balance of keeping listeners interested or choosing to change the channel is tough. I make a quick judgment call.

“Oh, Bill. Congratulations! Babies are a gift from God. How are mommy and baby doing?” It’s a tricky question, but I pray all is well, and his tears are tears of joy.

“Great. Just great.” Bill hesitates only slightly. “I’m actually calling because I have a question for you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Bill. Ask away.”

“I’m single. Widowed, actually. I’m an engineer who makes good money, and friends say I’m decent looking, but I can’t seem to find a good Christian woman I enjoy spending time with.”

“Bill, you are not alone. Making connections with other Christians takes effort. You just be you and, if it’s God’s will, the right woman will come along. I have a song that fits this situation perfectly; You Are Loved by Stars Go Dim. It’s one of my favorites and reminds me that my Heavenly Father loves me.”

“Thanks, Everly. You wouldn’t be interes….”

I cut off Bill’s question before he has a chance to finish. I know what he’s getting ready to ask. At least once a week, I receive a request for a date, or get flowers, or receive candy from an interested suitor.

Spending time with callers both rejuvenates and drains me. I crave the connection I receive from the public yet strive not to take on the caller’s burden. No matter how I feel, I portray the happy and fulfilled single talk show host. Some would say I’m not qualified for such a position, and that might be true. I’m not a psychologist or mental health worker. I’m just me—a single girl with a Communications Degree and Psychology Minor who wants to help people.

Don’t get me wrong; I do have some experience. I’ve had my fill of relationships, crushes, pity dates, and broken hearts. To be honest, I rarely give advice. With a bit of prompting and a few well-placed questions, callers often find their own answers. Most likely, they’ve known them all along. Still, no matter how much I help others, my own issues keep me from believing I deserve a life-long relationship with a soulmate.

I often count my blessings, naming them one by one to remind me of God’s love and how much He has done for me. I have a good job, no debt, and a small but lovely home in an idyllic community. Even though I don’t always count it as a blessing, my mom lives close by in an assisted living facility. And, I have co-workers who willingly keep my identity a secret, even though they’ll likely lose their jobs if they don’t since I made the owner put it in my contract when he hired me.

Seriously. I should be happy. Keyword: should.

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