Never the Bride (26 page)

He shrugs and smiles.

An ocean of cars are wandering through the maze of the garage ahead of us, but like the parting of the Red Sea, suddenly they move on and a car backs out, right by the walkway. “You’re good.” I smile.

I park and before I can even get the keys out of the ignition, He’s on my side, opening the door. I take His hand as He lifts me out. “I was kind of hoping You’d just pull me right through the thing,” I say as He shuts the door. “Sort of like Superman, when he takes Lois on—never mind.”

He lifts His arm a little, like I should wrap mine around it. I can only imagine how awkward this must look, but really, I don’t care. I mean, not long ago I was on a perfectly good date with a hot guy and that turned out to be horrible, so this really can’t get any worse.

We walk slowly, like time is on our side. Then He stops and looks down, which causes me to look down. A fifty-dollar bill, with a ten next to it, is on the ground to the left of an oil slick. I stoop to pick them up.

“Can’t have you paying for your own birthday dinner, now can I?”

I fold the bills. “Wow. You’ve thought of everything. Please tell
me this dropped out of the pocket of a really wealthy guy who won’t miss it.”

“On the contrary His name is George, it’s the last money to his name, and he’s going to be having a very rough night when he discovers it’s missing. He’ll be calling on Me for the first time in a long time later tonight.”

“Amazing how You work things out,” I say as we continue walking. “So, the balloons, the recorder—did Blake send that to me?”

He doesn’t answer.

I nudge Him. “It’s my birthday. Can’t I get one question answered? Just one. I promise. That’s it. And I realize I should probably be asking for the cure for cancer or world hunger or something, but…
please.”

He only smiles and keeps walking. We reach the restaurant. I open the door, just for the sake of keeping this as normal as possible. I catch the hostess watching us. Me. “You could just make yourself seen tonight, you know,” I whisper to Him. “I mean, You’ve done that a time or two.”

He’s grinning, which translates into,
Absolutely not because you’ll learn something this way.

Yeah. Learn to be humiliated, except I’ve got that down already. Strangely, though, I’m not too bothered by it tonight.

“Reservations for Jessie Stone. Booth, please.”

The waif in black asks, “Will anyone be joining you?”

“Oh yeah. The King of the World. Do you think I’m underdressed for that?”

The woman’s prissy expression drops. “One, then. Follow me.”

God leans forward. “You’re having way too much fun already.”

I laugh. “I really am.”

The three of us walk to a cozy booth, but the hostess has grabbed only one menu. As I slide in I say “I’ll need another menu.”

“Pardon?”

“Another menu.”

She sighs and goes to fetch it.

“Can’t beat that kind of customer service these days, can you?” I say.

“Hey, no worries. I’m used to people ignoring Me.”

I open the menu, and I catch a glimpse of a woman nearby, alone, reading a novel while feasting on an enormous plate of seafood. My eyes sting with tears for her. That’s her date tonight—food and a good book.
I’ve been there!
I want to shout. But tonight’s going to bring enough unwanted attention as it is.

I look at God, who is also noticing the woman.

“Ruby. Never been married. Men don’t treat her well, going all the way back to her father, Richard.”

“She looks sad.”

“She is sad.”

“Maybe we should invite her over to eat with us.”

He gives me a melancholic smile. “She won’t speak to Me. She hasn’t since her best friend died fourteen years ago.”

“Wow. People know how to hold a grudge, don’t they?” I lean forward on the table. “Okay, I just have to say…It’s just that…I mean, Your eyes…They’re sort of, well, amazing.”

“Oh?”

“Seriously. In the movies You’re always depicted as shriveled and like seventy-two. And sometimes with glasses, which I just think is odd because surely God has twenty-twenty vision, you know?”

“I’ve been depicted all sorts of ways. Most people don’t ever take the time to get to know Me.”

“If they only knew,” I say softly. The eyes are hard to describe. The color is dynamic, brilliant, like all colors mixed together. They shine with light but are deep with feeling. “How am I supposed to…?”

“What?”

“Notice anyone with You and all Your glory, right in front of me. Who can compete? And that all-knowing thing You’ve got going. Women would kill to find that in a man.”

“It’s okay that you’re starting to like Me. Even love Me a little.”

“But I can’t marry You. Don’t You see why that’s hard for me?” I soften a little and give Him a wry smile. “But why am I surprised? It’s the story of my life…wanting what I can’t have.” I glance over and see a nearby couple staring at me. “I’m going to be talking to myself all night,” I say to them, smiling apologetically, “so get used to it.”

Suddenly I hear a familiar tune coming from the nearly dead pianist in the corner of the room, playing on a shiny baby grand piano.

“‘I Only Have Eyes For You,’” I whisper, looking at Him. “Was this a special request?”

“I’ve been known to whisper a few suggestions.” Suddenly He stands, bows slightly, and holds out His hand.

“What? Here? Now?” A cold sweat puts my deodorant on high alert. I mean, I’m all for shaking inhibitions, but it’s more like trying a new dance move, not trying to move with an invisible man while dancing.

“I want to dance with you,” God says.

I eye the old couple watching me. I lean in toward God. “Can’t we do this somewhere else? I hear the North Pole is deserted. You’ve got
teleporting powers, don’t You?” The music swells. The old dude on the piano is doing quite a number with the ivories over there.

And I get caught up in the moment, just like that. I take His hand and He guides me to the dance floor, all Antonio Banderas-like. He’s a good dancer, surprisingly. I don’t know why, but I sort of expected Him to have big clunky feet or something. But our dance is fluid, graceful. I twirl under His guidance, step out and in, as He leads. Wow, wouldn’t we be something spectacular to watch if He wasn’t invisible. I laugh. I bet they’re all wondering how I’m dipping backward like that without falling on my butt.

I notice the woman who’d been sitting alone. She has put her book down, and she’s watching us. Or, I guess, me.

I give her a wink and keep dancing. He’s swinging me around like we’re auditioning for
Dancing with the Stars
or something.

As I twirl like a kiddie top, and “I Only Have Eyes for You” continues, it seems everyone only has eyes for me. Us. But not for long.

Soon enough the woman has ditched her novel and she’s on the dance floor, moving like she’s John Travolta. And doggone it if she doesn’t pull off disco moves to “I Only Have Eyes for You.” Maybe the guy at the piano has picked up the pace or something, but there’s electricity on the dance floor.

I swing around, holding His hands, and lo and behold (I speak like this when I’m with Him; I’m harking like there’s no tomorrow), the hostess with the mostess is right there with us. She’s closing her eyes, dancing round and round like she’s being led by a big heart and lots of hope.

We pass near each other and she quips, “Who needs a man, right?”

“Right on, sister.”

I glance at God, who is beaming. And I don’t mean just happy. He’s actually radiating light. I look at all the couples still seated. They wish they were having this much fun.

Soon enough, the has-beens and the have-nots are all on the dance floor. Old Dude Piano Man kicks it into high gear, and we’re busting moves that haven’t seen the light of day in years.

I have to wonder how long it’s been since this waxed-to-the-max dance floor has seen any action. By the surprised and energetic look on the piano man’s face, it’s been awhile.

God smiles at me. “You really know how to light up a room.”

“You’re One to talk. You know You’re glowing, don’t You?”

“I’m feeling the love,” He says, then dips me, twirls me—and for this moment, I feel so completely loved that there is nothing else in the world I want.

We’re ending the evening on the beach, my favorite place to be. Especially at night, except usually it’s not safe for me to be out here alone. Sometimes Blake comes with me, but tonight the God of the Universe is escorting me. I sit comfortably on the sand and watch Him. He stands, bathed by the moonlight at the edge of the water, with His pants rolled just above the ankle, His hands in His pockets, and His white shirt fluttering behind Him in the breeze.

I wonder what it’s like to observe all that you’ve made. To know how to command every wave. To have the attention of everything that swims in the sea. For all the time I’ve known Him in the recent weeks,
I have not really known Him like this. It’s like the water is singing to Him and the moonlight is dancing for Him.

He is majestic and I tremble. For the first time since we met, I feel small, insignificant, unworthy. But then He turns, walks toward me, kicking up sand as He approaches.

Waves crash near where He stood, washing over His footprints. Except when the water recedes, they are still there, untouched. How strange and mysterious and strong He is.

I start to stand as He nears, but He motions for me to sit down.

“I want you to do something for me.”

I sit back down. “Sing? Because You know I have the heart but not the ear for it. But since You created me tone deaf, maybe You should be subjected to the torture of it.”

He smiles gently, but I can tell something is on His mind. He points to the sand. “Write your initials.”

“Huh?”

He tilts His head. “Surely you trust Me by now.”

“Well, if you trust somebody enough to lead you on the dance floor, surely this isn’t too much to ask, right?” I get on my knees and in large block print I draw J.E.S. I put my fist to my mouth, but shoot, the question pops right out like I have an air gun in my throat. “Why?”

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He smiles.

“Sorry.”

“It’ll make sense one day.”

“You are so mysterious.”

“All part of My charm.” He pushes me and starts running. Oh, how I love a good game of tag!

I start to run, but then I see something in the distance, under the pier. A shadow of a person, lingering. I stand there for a moment but soon enough feel His arm around me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

We arrive back at my condo. I let Him drive home. And yeah, we got some looks. It was very funny. Not so funny if Officer Garrety would’ve driven by, but what can I say? I’ve become a risk taker of late.

I climb the stairs to the condo and turn, but He’s remained at the bottom, the perfect gentleman that He is. “Good night.”

“Good night, Jessie.”

“This was a really awesome birthday. Thank You. A dream. Really.”

“Speaking of dreams,” He says, “I want you to let some of yours go.”

I stand there. I don’t argue, but I’m having a hard time agreeing. Why can’t I just throw myself into this relationship and not look back?

“Trust Me with them. I won’t disappoint You.” He steps back and begins to turn. “Thanks for dancing with Me.”

I watch Him walk away, vanishing into the dark shadows of the trees hanging over the sidewalk. The shadows seem to disappear along with Him.

I can still smell the salt water from the night before and hear the sounds of the ocean as I drive up into the hills, to the neighborhood that Blake had shown me before. I’d reflected on this place a lot last night. This symbolized so many of my dreams—to settle down, have a family live in my dream house. So giving this up had some sacrifice attached. It meant no more daydreaming about all that I wanted out of life.

I park the car and stare at one of Blake’s unfinished houses, the one he let me tour. Then I notice something. A white veranda…and a porch swing!

I lean against my steering wheel. “God, this is hard. I mean, why does there have to be a porch swing? I know, I know. Because the porch swing means so much to me. And I know that’s stupid, but it’s—” My gaze focuses on something moving in the window.

It’s Blake. I can see him putting on a door.

“Wait! What the—” It’s God, right there next to Blake, helping him put the door on! They’re talking to each another.

I throw myself backward into my seat. “Whoa. Whoa!” Could it be? I mean, I can hardly let myself dream that big, but…“Is this really—Are You giving me what I asked for? Are You telling Blake now?” I laugh. It’s almost a cry. I cover my mouth. “You’re telling him Yourself.”

I put the car in reverse. “Okay, do Your thing. I won’t interrupt this one.”

I drive home, slowly, with the windows down. I feel free. I sing to the radio and punch a hand in the air as I hit a hill. So this is what happens when you give God your dreams. Everything works out. It’s just that you have to have the courage to do it.

Of course, what if Blake says no? I’ve known God long enough to know that He is persistent, but He doesn’t ever force anyone to do anything. So it all sort of hinges on whether or not this is what Blake wants.

Before fear can clutch me, I remind myself that He is very persuasive. He tends to put things in very convincing terms.

Trust Him
, I tell myself.

I drive to work and meet with a client for two hours, making sure the man really loves and cares for this woman. I’m fairly convinced they would marry even if I wasn’t providing a dream proposal, so I’m at peace with it.

Brooklyn doesn’t come in, and Malia tells me she decided to take the day off. I try not to worry too much. She’s been working hard, and if she needs a day off, then she deserves it.

I finish up with the client and check my voice mail. Blake has left a message!

I sit down as I hear his voice. “Jess, listen, I know this is last minute and everything, but can you meet me for dinner tonight? I have your birthday gift, and plus, I want to…well, I want to tell you something. Something really cool. Okay. Call me.”