Monday Morning Faith (11 page)

Would the real Johanna Holland stand up?

Nelda shrugged. “He'll like it even more when he gets used to it. Takes a man awhile to adjust. Most of them don't like change.”

Well,
now
she tells me. Why had I undergone this transformation if not to impress this man? I could kid myself all day long and say the mole needed to come off, the glasses were annoying, and my hair needed change, but deep down I knew why I had gone to all the trouble, not to mention the expense, of a makeover. I could sum it up in two words.

Sam Littleton.

I turned to look at Nelda — friend, confidant, fashion coordinator. Her jaw plunged.

“What?” She was focused on my right eye. I blinked, giving her the full effect of the lashes. “What?”

Her eyes motioned to my false lash as she gathered an armload of books and disappeared.

I blinked. Good grief, the thing was half off! I managed to get it restuck without raising too many brows.

Sighing, I returned to work. Nelda could waste more time yakking than a bunch of utility men digging a hole.

I left work fifteen minutes early and drove straight home. Itty met me at the door. He'd gotten used to the way I looked by now, but I kept any sudden moves to a minimum. The so-called new me had traumatized the poor thing.

I filled his food dish and put out fresh water. “Guess what, pup? I'm dining out with a handsome man. What do you think about that?”

He sat down and cocked his head. His eyes were so bright and alert I expected him to talk someday. He was smarter than most people. I'd been taking him to The Gardens to see Mom and Pop, and half the residents adored him. The other half hadn't seen him yet. He missed my parents. His days now were long and uneventful. I had yet to look for an apartment. I knew I couldn't delay much longer, but too much change too fast was hard on both of us.

I hurried to dress, wanting to be ready when Sam arrived. I showered and then pulled my new gray and white pinstripe suit out of the closet. I spent thirty minutes on my makeup, determined to be subtle but perfect. Or at least strive for eyelash stability. I remembered the halcyon days when I didn't worry about my looks, just slapped on a little foundation and took off. Now I agonized over every stroke of the lip brush, every feathery touch of shadow. Blend, stroke, layer, line, curl, pat, powder.

I needed to get a life.

The doorbell rang before I had time to wonder if Sam would show up. Great to look at and prompt too. Be still, my heart. I opened the door and turned speechless at the sheer wonder of him. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark silver-streaked hair combed back from his forehead, smiling lips curved beneath a silky mustache. He had a dimple in one cheek. How had I missed that? The man was gorgeous in his gray dress pants, charcoal herringbone jacket, and a black turtleneck. How had he managed to stay single all these years after Belinda's death?

He had reservations at the Seafood Center, a favorite haunt. I ate there because Mom and Pop didn't care for seafood and I didn't mind going by myself. Our hostess showed us to a table by the window. I stared at the well-appointed table and wondered how I, Johanna Holland, had been so blessed. I was having dinner with one of the nicest men in town. My cup was running over.

We ordered seafood platters, with an excellent variety of delectable shellfish. Sam held my hand while he said the blessing. I listened as he asked God to take care of me, and I was overcome by his humble sincerity. Over dessert he talked about his recent trip, and every word was like a hammer blow to my heart.

This man was in love with his work — with the people of Mexico. And Papua New Guinea. People everywhere. Especially those outside the US.

“Have you ever been to Mexico?”

“No.” I'd been out of the state only on rare occasions.

“We'll go together sometime — ”

“Oh, I don't fly — ”

“Then we'll drive. Just past the last intersection in Brownsville on the US side there's an intersection called Boca Chica. Then there's a tollbooth. Then we cross a bridge over the Rio Grande and get to the border, complete with guards, razor-sharp barbed wire fencing, and security dogs. The guards may pull us over or they may not. They're looking for the obvious — drugs and weapons — but more than that, they're looking for anything we might bring into the country to sell.”

“To sell?”

“Anything that threatens their economy. There are speed bumps every few yards and a muffler shop on the other side.” He flashed a grin. “Convenient, huh? Now we're in the large city: Matamoros: Wal-Mart, HEB Markets, Pex-Mex gas stations, and Super D's — similar to our convenience stores. The smell of the open sewers is terrible. They call them black lagoons. There are taco vendors, and schoolchildren dressed in blue and white uniforms wave as we go by. Soon the landscape will begin to change, to look like what you would imagine in Mexico. As we travel deeper and deeper into the countryside, we begin to leave the flatland and sagebrush, and after hours, there it is, a deep fertile land lying between mountains. Pure Mexican culture, our town. The Rio Frio snakes through the valley. It's beautiful, Johanna. The sugarcane fields, the tropical river. I want to show you my Mexico; I want you to experience the beauty and the fulfillment of working with its people. Then I want you to know Papua New Guinea and its people, the beauty of the land and their culture.”

Oh, if only I wanted the same.

My heart ached as I listened. Sam was so excited, so dedicated. But this was a part of his life I couldn't share. At that moment it became crystal clear: if I continued to see this man, I was inviting disaster. He would fulfill his calling, and I would be left behind. It reminded me of an old B-grade Western where the cowboy was in love with his horse and the heroine was left in the dust. Except my cowboy was in love with God.

How could a mortal woman compete with the Almighty?

Despite my realization, I didn't pull away. In fact, that dinner shifted our relationship. I continued to see Sam almost every night, in addition to the hours he spent in the library. In January his work would take him to Papua New Guinea for a month; he had read every book we had about that area of the world. Now he was rereading our entire collection in case he'd overlooked anything. He'd also added missionaries' biographies to his list.

By now I'd started apartment hunting, and Sam came along to cheer me on. I couldn't find a thing I liked. He teased me and said my heart wasn't in the project. Of course he was right.

One afternoon on the way back to the car, I asked why he'd retired so young from his medical practice. His age had never come up in conversation, but he was too young for Social Security — way too young.

“When Belinda died I lost heart for life for a while. Then the Lord began to work on me, and since I was alone, I knew I could do more for mankind than live my life in a sterile operating room.”

So like Sam. The Lord had indeed begun a good work in this man and would see it to completion.

If only I knew what God was working within me.

Trees had shed their foliage and shrubs had taken on their bare, wintry look. Almost every morning frost coated the hard ground.

I stamped the last book in Sam's pile and added it to the stack. Instead of gathering them up and leaving, he bent toward me. “How about dinner and a movie?”

I smiled. “I haven't gone to a movie in years.” Mom, Pop, and I rented movies to watch in the comfort of our home. Since they'd moved out, I had overdosed on tear-jerking, star-crossed romance flicks until I'd gotten tired of my self-imposed pity party.

“All the more reason to try something new.”

Sam kept trying to get me to break out of my shell, as if a new look demanded a new lifestyle.

“What movie did you have in mind?”

He mentioned one I'd heard patrons discussing, and I agreed to go. Nelda assured me I'd like it, and I knew our taste was similar.

I couldn't say why I continued to feed the relationship with Sam. I knew it was hopeless. Come January Sam would be off to Papua New Guinea, and who knew when he'd be back? I didn't want a long-distance relationship; I continued to tell myself I didn't want a relationship at all. But I knew I was fooling no one, not even myself.

With each passing day I was falling more deeply “involved” with Sam.

I dressed with care that evening. The movie was a documentary, a general audience rating. It wasn't a romantic evening on the town, but for some reason I decided to be a little more daring than usual. Instead of more conservative attire, I wore something that was more Nelda than Johanna, a leopard-print skirt and matching shawl with a black scoop-necked top and gold hoop earrings so big you could throw a basketball through them. I gelled my hair, scrunched it into spirals the way Chantel had taught me, and applied makeup and false lashes. One touch remained. I climbed onto my three-inch spiked-heel shoes Nelda and the sales clerk had insisted were so me. I was sure the footwear added a whole new perspective to how people saw me. The shoes were so high I feared they might give me a nosebleed.

Or a panic attack. I was afraid of heights.

I hobbled out to the living room to await my prince. Itty took one look at me — and ran.

The theater was crowded. While Sam purchased our tickets I stood in the lobby enjoying the Christmas decorations: twinkling lights and a big sleigh holding Santa and toys, pulled by a blinking-nosed Rudolph. I followed him (balanced on the three-inch spikes) to the refreshment counter.

“Want something to drink? Popcorn? Candy?”

I nodded. “Diet soda, thank you.”

We made our way through the crowd and found seats halfway down. The theater was filling up. We had time to take a few bites of popcorn before the lights dimmed and the screen came to life.

I settled back and tried to relax. The date was going well. I looked good. Life was good.

Later Sam held my hand as we worked our way through the crowd. We stepped outside, which left me a bit disoriented, like moving from one world to another. Rain came down, not a downpour, but a decent shower. Sam paused beneath the canvas awning. “You wait here while I get the car.”