Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels (38 page)

Kirby. Such a dear man, and yet I knew in my heart of hearts that our relationship was going nowhere. I found him attractive, and he was a lot of fun to be with, but there was a major element missing. What, I wasn’t sure.

“Is it just fear that’s holding me back, God?” I prayed out loud. “Or is he really not meant for me?”

I asked the Lord to show me the true nature of my heart and what His will was for me in this matter. I had been hiding many sides of myself since Bryan died, and I confessed now the sin of not giving over every single part of my life to God.

Slowly paddling along, I passed the point where the lovers’ pine leaned out over the water. Studying the trunk, I tried to understand—as I had many times before—what would make two trees somehow grow into one. It had to have been something else that wasn’t present anymore, some outside force that had caused them to intertwine. But what? A vine that had pulled them together? Maybe a storm that had tangled their branches until they could no longer be untangled?

Whatever it was, the two had nearly become one, and now they formed what looked like almost a single unit, one mighty, majestic pine. To chop down one of the trunks would mean certain death for both.

That’s what Bryan’s death was like for me. His removal from my life was like what the removal of one of those tree trunks would be: painful, brutal, even fatal.

And yet…

And yet it hadn’t been fatal. I was still here, still living in this world, still trying to understand where the other half of me had gone. Time does heal. I could openly admit that now, for every day after Bryan’s death had seemed ever-so-slightly less of a heartache than the day before. With enough days piled together, I had slowly
learned that I could function, that I could exist, that I could find moments of happiness and sometimes even joy.

But what was the lesson waiting for me now, with Kirby pressing so urgently into my life? Was it to open myself to the chance of love again? I paddled away from the tree, wondering if this wasn’t about love or romance at all—but about fellowship in general.

Connect,
I could almost hear the Lord saying now.
Reach out to others. This is what I want for you.

I blinked away tears, wondering why it was so much easier in the midst of my pain to draw into myself and pretend I didn’t need anyone. Yet, all I ever heard from the few people who I did let into my life—Harriet, Verlene, Eli—was that I was hiding, that I still needed to open up more, that I wouldn’t really begin true healing until I could start making some connections.

Once I grasped that, I could see, suddenly, why God had given me someone like Kirby, a man who was pushy enough to work his way past all of the walls I had so carefully constructed around me. The common bond of our mutual grief had disarmed me from the beginning, and his enthusiastic nature—combined with his good looks, charming ways, and the feelings he professed to have for me—had all served to make me vulnerable at a time when vulnerability was exactly what God desired most for me.

Yet Kirby probably wasn’t who God wanted for me as a love interest. If he were, I think my heart would’ve known. I would always be grateful for what he had shown me, that I could dare to open myself to others, that I could risk making new connections, and, most importantly, that I could take a chance at romance without betraying the memory of my husband. But I just felt, deep inside, that God had someone else in mind for me to love. Someone else down the road a bit, when I had healed even more.

In my heart, I had a feeling that person was Tom.

Suddenly, an image of Bryan’s smile, his laugh, filled my mind, and with the clarity of a photograph I could suddenly picture him there in a canoe next to me.
Come on, Callie,
he called to me in my imagination.
Race you home!

Despite the tears that streamed down my face, I lifted the paddle high and plunged it into the water, my heart suddenly soaring. I could almost hear him singing out one of his favorite hymns, his voice ringing across the water like a bell:

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

I paddled to the rhythm of the song, singing each verse myself, finally reaching my dock as I got to the verse I loved best. I tied up my canoe and then stood at the end of the dock and sang out my favorite lines:

When we asunder part,

It gives us inward pain;

But we shall still be joined in heart,

And hope to meet again.

Forty-Three

I got to Kirby’s a few minutes late, after taking the time to fix my hair and repair my makeup. I felt kind of sad but also at peace. I needed to be honest with him. I needed to let him know there was no future for us as a couple.

I parked in front and rang the bell, and eventually he came to the door, grinning. Over nice slacks and a dress shirt he was wearing an apron, and in his hand he held a big spoon.

“Callie!” he cried. “Come in. Guess what? We’re slumming it.”

“Slumming it?”

He leaned over to kiss me hello. I turned my face so that his lips brushed my cheek.

“Yeah, come on back,” he said, without seeming to notice. “Not thinking, I gave the cook the day off. So we’re having chili, the one and only thing I know how to make myself. I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Of course. Can I help?”

“No, no, you’re my guest,” he said. “Come on in and sit down. It’s almost ready.”

I followed him into the dining room, where I was surprised to see his grandmother, Eleanor, and her nurse, Carol. They were sitting at the large table, which had been set for four down at one end. Cheese and crackers were arranged on a center platter, and tall glasses of ice water had been put next to each place.

“Hello again,” I said to them as Kirby took my coat and then held the seat for me directly across from the two women. “This is a pleasure.”

“Eleanor’s having a good day,” Carol said, placing a napkin in the lap of her charge, “so we thought we’d join you.”

“Stop treating me like a baby. I’m perfectly capable of managing a napkin,” the older woman said to the nurse, taking it from her. Slowly and deliberately, she spread it on her own lap.

“I’m Eleanor Collins,” she told me when she was done. “I understand we’ve met before?”

She looked at me, eyes lucid and clear.
How disconcerting,
I thought. The last time we met she was in a complete fog, sitting right here and having an imaginary tea party.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Now, Grandma,” Kirby said loudly, “we’re all having chili, but I made you some oatmeal. Okay?”

She looked from Carol to me and then up at him.

“No, it’s not ‘okay,’” she said. “But I suppose it will have to do.”

He left the room, and then she winked at me.

“He’s a good boy,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. He certainly is.”

Kirby returned juggling the bowls of chili and oatmeal, explaining that everyone except Carol had been given the day off.

“It’s not often I wake the staff at four
A.M.
to draw hot baths and serve coffee,” he said. “I thought it was the least I could do.”

“How is Mr. Buchman?” I asked.

“Sleeping like a baby the last time I checked,” Kirby replied, smiling.

He sat to my right at the head of the table and led us in a short grace, and then we all started eating. The chili was perfectly fine, albeit a bit spicier than I usually liked. I ate mine with a lot of crackers and plenty of water.

The meal was very pleasant. I could tell Kirby had a nice relationship with his grandmother’s nurse, and Eleanor herself was sharp and funny. At one point, after she made a little joke, I noticed Kirby looking at her wistfully. How difficult it must be, I thought, to live with someone who was there all the time—yet only rarely really
there.

After lunch, Kirby and I did the dishes together while I filled him in on my conversation with Tom. Afterward, he gave me back my coat and suggested a walk, which I welcomed. The air had turned rather warm, much more so than in recent days, and I barely needed my coat as we stepped out into the sun. Stepping outside, Kirby took my hand and I let him, wondering how long it would be before I held hands with anyone else again. I thought of Shayna, grabbing onto Eddie Ray out of loneliness.
Part of me just wanted a man around again,
she had said.
Somebody to hold my hand. Somebody to say nice things to me.

I, too, had found it nice to have a man around again. But the difference between me and Shayna was that it was important to me that it be the
right
man and not just any man. Kirby deserved to know the truth.

We walked slowly, without talking. Finally, we reached an ornate iron bench near the dock. We sat, looking out at the water, silent for a while longer. I was thinking hard, trying to come up with the right words, when Kirby finally spoke.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” he said finally. “You okay?”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Shayna’s case?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “But us, too. I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

He hesitated and then looked at me. Finally, he bent over and picked up a few shells from the ground, stood, and began tossing them one by one into the water.

“Oh man, here it comes,” he said. “The great kiss-off speech.”

“I’m not kissing you off.”

“Yes you are,” he said. “I know that look. I’ve felt it on my own face. I’ve given the speech myself about a hundred times. Save yourself the trouble, Callie. You’ll always think of me fondly, we’ll still be friends, blah, blah, blah.”

“Kirby—”

“I know I’ve been coming on too strong,” he said, tossing the last shell into the water. He dusted off his hands, and then he turned and knelt on the grass in front of me, taking both of my hands in his and looking at me earnestly. “But you’ve got to understand that you’re one of the most interesting, unique people I’ve ever met. Not to mention you’re beautiful and smart and kind and just about everything else I ever wanted in a woman. If I’ve come on strong, it’s because for the first time in my life I’ve found someone I can look at and actually envision a future with. Do you know how weird that is for me? The rich playboy meeting someone who makes him want to grow up and settle down? You make me want to be a better person, Callie. You make me want to be worthy of you.”

“You are such a special man,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. I reached out to touch his cheek. “But I’m sorry, Kirby. My heart just isn’t in this.”

“I know,” he answered softly, stroking my hair. “Your late husband. In time—”

“No,” I said. “This isn’t about my husband.”

Kirby met my eyes and held them for a long time. I could tell he was trying to put it all together, how this independent woman who lived alone and hadn’t even kissed a man in three years could now afford to turn him, the great Kirby Collins, down.

“Your boss,” he said finally, incredulously, pulling away from me. He stood and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve got a thing for your boss!”

My face reddened.

“What? We’ve never even met in person, for goodness’ sake.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve seen the way your face lights up when you talk about him. You’re in love with him!”

Taken aback, I shook my head.

In love with Tom? Of course not. How could I love someone I didn’t even really know?

I shook my head and forced the conversation back on track.

“Listen, Kirby,” I said. “I’m sorry it’s not going to work out between us. But there isn’t anyone else, and this isn’t a typical kiss-off speech. You showed me something about myself this week, and for that I will be eternally grateful.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “What’d I show you? How quickly I can make a fool of myself?”

I tried not to be offended by his tone, knowing he was speaking from his own wounded pride. I spoke softly and evenly, wanting this to be an honest conversation and not just angry words between hurting people.

“Being with you this week has made me realize that it’s time for me to start living again. I’m ready. And I have you to thank for that, Kirby. You’ll never, ever know what a change you’ve made in my life.”

He stared off toward the water for a long time.

“I can’t even hate you for this,” he said finally. “Because I understand what you’re saying. In just a few days’ time, I’ve watched you change. It’s like I’ve seen you come alive.”

He met my eyes. Then, slowly, he sat down on the bench next to me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and pulled me in
for a hug. I hugged him back, hoping we could still be friends. I really didn’t want to lose him completely.

“It’s time for you to come back to life, too,” I said.

He relaxed the hug and kept one arm casually draped around my shoulders. I leaned into him, resting my head there, feeling the warmth of his body next to mine.