God In The Kitchen (5 page)

            “Jared?”

            “Yes?” I said, sitting up a little straighter my chair.

            “It’s Chloe…Chloe Marriet. From the accident?”

            “Yes, Chloe, of course! What can I do for you?” I asked, picturing her standing in her tiny kitchen clutching the phone to her ear.

            “I hope it’s okay that I called you at work. I just talked to Bill at the garage.”

            “It’s totally fine, don’t worry about it,” I said, reassuring her.

            “Anyways, I just called to thank you for what you did with my car. That was completely unnecessary…but thank you,” she said, rushing through her sentence.

            “It was the least I could do,” I said. “After I hit you, I felt like I killed it.”

            Chloe laughed softly on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I guess you kind of did. It was a long time coming, though.”

            “How long have you had that thing?” I asked, enjoying the conversation.

            “High school,” she said.

            “High school? Are you kidding me?”

            “No joke,” she said. “I saved my money for all four years before I bought it. It was barely used at the time. Now…well, it’s a little more used.”

            “You could say that,” I answered. “How many miles are on it?”

            “Oh, well over 200,000,” she sighed. “I plan to replace it someday, it’s just that, well…life gets in the way.”

            “I understand,” I said, thinking about my dad. Things had a tendency to take over and distract people from their goals.

            “Anyway,” Chloe continued, “I plan to pay you back for the repairs. I’ll need a little time, but I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

            “Chloe!” I said, nearly standing up from my chair, “Don’t you dare! I did that because I wanted to not because I expected you to pay me back.”

            “I know that,” she said and I imagined her long dark braid swinging behind her back as she talked. “And it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I just don’t feel right about it.”

            “What’s there to feel right about?” I asked, wondering why no one had ever done anything nice for her before.

            “I just…I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness. I really need this car to get to work and pick up my son. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

            “There’s really no need,” I said, beginning to relax. I was still hoping I could talk her into accepting the repairs as a gift.

            “I’ll let you know when I have the money,” she said as I realized there was no swaying her.

            “I look forward to hearing from you,” I said before I fully thought of what the phrase might sound like. I had meant that I was looking forward to talking to her again and maybe even seeing her in person. Once the sentence was out, however, it might have sounded as if I was looking forward to hearing from her because it would mean she had my money ready.

            “Okay then,” Chloe said, wrapping up the conversation.

            I expected her to say good-bye but instead she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

            “What do you mean?” I asked with surprise.

            “You’re Jared Jones,” she said emphasizing my name. “THE Jared Jones. You’re on the radio.”

            I thought it was strange that she expected me to divulge this bit of information. It wasn’t like I walked around everyday introducing myself to random people. Was I supposed to say ‘Hi, I’m Jared Jones, radio personality extraordinaire’?

            “I guess I didn’t think it was important,” I said.

            “Oh, it’s important,” she said. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks again.”

            And then, she was gone.

The rest of the day flew by with the corporate conference call. By the time the corporate office was done yammering on, I had to rush straight from the office to the coffee shop to meet Abigail.

            I felt a bit harried as I entered the shop a mere 15 minutes later. I ran my hand through my hair and attempted to look put together. I hoped I had still beat Abigail so I could get a cup of coffee for myself, choose a seat, and calm my nerves.

            My hopes of being early were quickly dashed as I spotted Abigail’s striking hair from across the room. She had her hands wrapped around a warm mug.

            I studied her from the entrance, taking in her downcast eyes as she read a document. When she took her next sip, she glanced up and caught me staring. She lifted the fingers of one hand from her mug in a small wave and gave me a brilliant smile. Her eyes didn’t light up as I’d hoped, but at least she smiled. I knew I had my work cut out for me.

            I gestured to the board to indicate to her that I was going to get a drink. I ordered black coffee and a couple of muffins. Working in the early morning hours meant that I was hungry at odd hours. I often ate breakfast when I got up and then I was ready for lunch by about 10. Now, in the late afternoon hours, I was famished for dinner.

            The barista smiled and gave me a knowing look as I placed my order. She had recognized my voice, I was sure of it. I did not encourage her with a smile and I kept my head down as I paid for my drink and muffins.

            I grabbed my own warm mug and muffins the minute they were pushed my direction and headed for the table near the back of the room.

            “We meet again,” I said as I sat down.

            “So it seems,” she said, tearing her eyes away from the document as she placed it inside a folder by her feet.

            “That looked like an interesting read,” I said, trying to make light conversation.

            “It was a contract,” she said. “For my next book.”

            “You’re writing another one?” I asked, feeling the guilt slide through my veins as I recalled the fact that I had not yet even read page one of the first one.

            “I haven’t yet, but they want me to start soon. Sales were good and they’ve ordered a second printing.”

            “That’s great news!” I exclaimed a bit too loudly.

            “It is, I’m really excited,” she said. “I’m not really sure what to do with a second book, though. Readers are going to expect something similar, but I kind of feel like I said everything I had to say, you know?”

            I didn’t know and I was dreading the fact that she was likely to ask me relatively soon. Instead of answering, I slurped in some coffee, unwrapped a muffin, and nodded with enthusiasm.

            “Do you see anywhere I could branch off and write a whole entire second book?” she asked.

            And there it was. My test. I had known it was coming, but it was still hard to form the words in a way that wouldn’t offend her again.

            “Well,” I started, trying to remember if I had skimmed anything in the acknowledgement pages that would help me out.

            “You didn’t read it,” she said, her face falling slightly.

            “I tried, I really did,” I said.

            “And you didn’t like it? You couldn’t get through it?” she said, a hint of worry on her face.

            At that point, I realized what the real issue with Abigail was. She wasn’t worried about me reading her book so that I could hold a conversation with her about it. She was worried about me reading her book and not
liking
it.

            “Oh no, that’s not it at all,” I stumbled around my bite of muffin, trying to choke it down so I could answer her without my mouth full. “I didn’t get a chance to even start.”

            “So…you haven’t read any of it?” she asked, her face relaxing a bit.

            “Not a word,” I said, finally swallowing the giant bite of muffin and setting the treat aside so I wouldn’t choke myself on any more. “I really wanted to,” I continued, trying to find the right words. “I even took it to work with me today. But after the shift this morning I had to meet with the sales staff on some new clients and then there was a conference call…” I trailed off, hoping she would see how crazy my week had been.

            “I get it,” she said. “You’re busy.”

            “You don’t even know the half of it,” I said, trying to make my life appear much more hectic and in demand than it really was. “You know that day you were in the studio? I was in an accident that day!”

            “A car accident?” she asked, leaning forward in her chair, her green eyes widening.

            I nodded. “Yep, an official fender bender.”

            “Are you okay?” she asked, running her eyes down my chest and over my hands.

            “Fine, I’m just fine. My car is fine. The other car…well…it died, but all of the passengers involved are okay.”

            Abigail breathed out a small sound. “Well, that’s all that matters, then.”

            “You’re right. Dealing with the repairs this week, though, well, it was just one more thing on my plate.”

            Abigail smiled. “I know how that can be. It seems like just when you can’t take anymore, something else comes along.”

            This was going much better than I thought.

            “I can certainly understand,” I said, still wanting to explain my side of the story to her. “I would have read your book. I always do. It was just with my father’s passing, I hadn’t gotten caught up again and your interview caught me by surprise.”

            Abigail reached her hand across the table and squeezed mine. I wished I didn’t have muffin crumbs on it, but I squeezed back.

            “I’m really sorry about your father,” she said, looking me in the eye.

            “Me too,” I said, feeling my emotions welling up. I hadn’t allowed myself to cry again since Evan appeared in the kitchen. I was half afraid that if I cried again, I would find another man of “spiritual authority” in my presence and I had already convinced myself it had been a dream. “He was the best man I knew.”

            “I say the same thing about my dad,” she said, ending the squeeze on my hand but not letting go. “Do you want to talk about him? Tell me about him?”

            I wouldn’t have thought I wanted to, but for the next hour, I told Abigail all of the details that were most important about my father.

            “Your dad sounds wonderful,” she said.

            “He was,” I said. “I’m really going to miss him. I really
do
miss him.”

            I looked down at my coffee, which had significantly cooled by that time. When I raised my eyes back up to meet the reflection in Abigail’s, I could no longer speak. All I could do was look into her eyes and smile.

            Was this what I had been waiting for my whole adult life? Was the woman before me the one? It sure felt right.

            “This is nice,” Abigail said as I reached across the table to take her hand back in mine.

            “It is,” I seconded, not really wanting to talk anymore at all. I wanted to enjoy the scent of the coffee shop while I looked deeper into her eyes. I thought if she let me look long enough, I would be able to see into her soul.