“All settled?” I ask, picking up the remote. I begin scrolling through the family movies offered through streaming, looking for the princess one I’d mentioned earlier. I find it and after we bless the food, I hit play.

  Posey and I are enjoying the movie, laughing at the humorous parts and commenting on the cute characters. Posey’s favorite is a blue bear named Bolly that only the princess can hear or talk to. Whenever he’s in a scene, Posey stops eating and stares at the TV. I smile again at how absolutely adorable she is.

  At one point, both of us are so engrossed in the movie that when the apartment buzzer sounds, we both jump. Laughing, I get up, holding my hand to my heart. I leave the movie playing for Posey and head to the speaker near the door.

  “Who is it?” I ask, holding down the button.

  “It’s me.”

  Prescott.

  My heart leaps and I swallow hard. I’m not ready for this. Am I ready for this? I’m not ready. My finger shakes as I hit the button again. “I’ll be right there.”

  I step back from the speaker and look down at myself. My sweats are stained and my originally red T-shirt is so old, it’s pink and threadbare. My blond locks are hanging and tucked behind my ears, and I can’t remember when—or if—I brushed them since I got dressed. I panic.

  Okay, Anne. You’re not trying to impress him. Who cares how you look? I lie to myself.

  “Posey,” I say, stepping toward her. “I have to see someone at the door. I need you to sit here for just a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” I take her plate and set it on the dining table. “I’ll give this back to you as soon as I’m back.” I don’t want her eating while I’m out of the room.

  Posey nods, then her eyes go right back to the movie. She’s clearly engrossed in it, which is good. It’ll keep her occupied enough to not follow me.

  I slip out the door, leaving it cracked so I can hear if she calls for me, and head down the hallway to the front door of the apartment where Prescott is waiting.

  I open the door and gesture for him to enter the hallway. I won’t go out of the building with Posey in the apartment.

  Prescott walks in and immediately my heart flutters. He’s clean, shaven, and smells amazing. Compared to him, I feel like an old plain donut from an assortment box left out all day because no one wanted it.

  I shake my head. Stop it, Anne. I take a step back, not wanting to be so close to him. Not wanting to breathe in his familiar scent. Not wanting to wrap my arms around him and squeeze. My traitorous heart. I should be furious at him right now for the way he made a fool of himself and disrespected me the other night. But right now, I’m so conflicted in my feelings, I just stare at him.

  “Hi.” His voice is low and quiet. Humble.

  “Hi,” I return. My eyes dart toward my apartment door.

  “Do you have company?” he asks. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

  “No, I… yes. Well, I have Posey.” I squeeze my eyes shut at how stupidly the words came out. “Posey is my foster daughter,” I say.

  “Wow, Anne, that’s great,” Prescott says, and it’s genuine.

  “Yes. It is.” We stare at each other for an awkward moment. “I, uh…” I gesture with my thumb toward my apartment.

  “Yeah, of course,” Prescott says, running a hand through his short, thick hair. “You should get back… or, I could…” he looks longingly at the door.

  “No,” I say too quickly. “It’s just, Posey isn’t ready to…” I swallow. I’m not ready.

  He holds his hand up to stop me from going on. “Anne. It’s okay. Another time.”

  I nod.

  He nods.

  We stand there for a moment.

  I sigh. “This is weird,” I say. “And I don’t want us to be weird.”

  “No.” He gives a quick shake of his head. “Me neither.”

  I hold up a finger for him to wait where he is and I walk back to my slightly open door. I peek in to see Posey in the exact position I left her, eyes glued to the TV. I quietly walk back to where Prescott is standing.

  “Anne, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. “I was an absolute idiot that night and couldn’t have acted more foolishly if I’d tried. I cannot apologize enough.”

  I stand there staring at him, not knowing what to say. The truth is, I’m not sure how I feel. I want to slap him. I want to cry. I want to throw my arms around him and kiss him. The trouble is, he’s a broken man and I can’t be the one that tries to fix him. It has to be God’s job. And before we can fix us, God has to fix Prescott.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For the apology. I know it wasn’t easy.” Then I get bold. “But it was necessary.”

  “I know. You’re right. And you have have no idea,” he whispers. “If I could take back that entire day, I would.”

  I reach out and touch his left arm. It’s the first contact I’ve offered voluntarily since his accident. He glances down at my hand on him and looks back up. I see all of the hurt, regret, and sadness in his eyes, and I nearly break and give in to letting him come in.

  Instead, I say, “I can’t tell you that it’s okay. Because it wasn’t. But I can tell you that I forgive you, and it will be the truth. I forgive you, Prescott.” I sigh lightly and add, “I just don’t know where to go from here.”

  Prescott opens his mouth to speak when we hear, “Aaaaanne!” in Posey’s high little voice.

  “I need to go,” I say, backing up toward my apartment.

  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  I look at him with what I hope looks like love in my eyes and not judgment. “When she meets you, I want it to be under less… stressful circumstances.”

  He pauses, then nods. “I understand.”

  “Okay then,” I say quietly. I hold up a hand for a goodbye and slip inside the door, closing it behind me. Then I lean into it, smiling at Posey.

  “Anne! The princess saved Bolly! He was falling down!” Posey points enthusiastically to the screen.

  “Oh boy,” I affirm, grabbing her dinner plate and bringing it to her. I settle in next to her to finish the movie. And as I do, I breathe a sigh of relief that no questions were asked about my unexpected visitor.

  * * *

  It’s 9:50 and Posey has just drifted off after barely making it through the credits. I decide to let her sleep on the couch tonight, and tuck a blanket in snug around her. I kiss her softly on the forehead, then head to my bedroom, where I text Billie and ask if she can video chat.

  Less than five minutes later my phone rings.

  When I answer, Billie frowns. “I don’t like to see you not smiling, Anne,” she begins. “You’re always smiling.”

  “I know,” I say. “But tonight was a mixture of joy and… surprise.”

  “Oh? Is Posey alright?”

  “Yeah, she’s great. I’m falling completely in love with her, Bill.” I smile. “It was the unexpected knock at the door.” I look at her warily.

  Billie gasps and sits up straighter. “No. Prescott?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  “Please tell me it wasn’t another disaster like last time.”

  “No, not at all,” I say. “Actually, he apologized. Sincerely.”

  “Good,” Billie says, and I laugh, thinking that she already sounds like a mother.

  “I just don’t know where to go from here. I mean, I forgive him for what happened but I can’t just pretend it never did. He’s got some major issues to work on.”

  “For sure,” Billie says. “But he’ll need you now more than ever, Anne.”

  “As what? A friend? A girlfriend? I don’t know if I’m ready to move forward with that type of relationship with him right now.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I love him, Billie. So much. I want to be there for him, I do. But I don’t want…” My voice trails off and I open my eyes and look at her.

  “To be hurt again,” Billie finishes for me.

  I nod. “But how do I cautiously be his friend without hurting him?”

  “I know it’s cliche, but prayer.” Billie shrugs. “Taking it one day at a time. You can’t rush God’s plans.”

  “I know. But throw Posey in the mix and there aren’t just two hearts involved anymore—there are three.” I fall back on my bed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

  Most people meet the love of their lives, marry, start a family… I just never could do things the easy way. There’s always been a dramatic flair to my life. And my life just got a little more complicated.

  “So,” Billie says, cautiously. “Are you going to see him again? Will you meet with him without Posey?”

  “I will,” I say right away, surprised to hear the truth in my own voice. “I don’t know when—I’m definitely not ready yet. But, eventually I will, if he promises me he’s getting help.”

  Billie smiles. “We’ll be praying.”

  “I know you will.”

  When we end the call, I know I have a lot to pray about myself.

  Chapter 16

  Ben greets us Monday morning with a smile, holding the door open as Posey and I step inside of Old Things, New Things. She looks around in wonder, taking in all of the paintings, antiques, and furniture. We keep the place bright, clean, and cheery.

  “Posey,” I say, crouching down beside her, “This is my friend, Ben. We work together here in the store.”

  Posey gives her brightest smile and Ben gives her shoulder a little squeeze.

  “Very nice to meet you, Posey.”

  “You too.” Posey beams.

  Ben looks at me as I stand. “Well?” he asks.

  I laugh. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  Ben and I were chatting over the weekend and I told him I’d let him know if I heard from Prescott after his surprise visit. I didn’t. And I didn’t reach out, either. I don’t know why, but I think I’d like it if he made the next move.

  “Posey, sweetie, if you go to that counter over there, there is a bowl of suckers. You may have one.” Then I point to the left of the counter. “There’s a chair you can sit in while you wait for me.”

  Ben gives me a glance, unsure, and I know what he’s thinking.

  “She’ll be fine,” I assure him. “She can probably unwrap the sucker better than me or you.” I shrug. “She’s pretty incredible.”

  Ben grins. “You really like her.”

  I nod. “I really do.” I don’t want to get emotional so I quickly turn the subject back to all things Prescott. “So, I haven’t heard word. No texts, no calls, no visits.”

  “Sounds like he’s giving you your space.”

  “Yeah. And I’m not mad about it.” I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I mean, if he wants to get together or whatever, I’m not opposed to it. But, I don’t mind waiting, either. We’re in such a weird place.”

  Ben nods in understanding, looks at me thoughtfully, but says nothing. I suddenly realize how grateful I am to have his friendship. As Billie nears a little closer to the end of her pregnancy, I feel more and more intrusive bringing my issues to her. I’m not close with Ben like I am with Billie, but he’s a great listening ear with good advice.

  We watch as Posey unwraps the sucker using her teeth, turns in a slow circle until she spots the garbage can near the door, makes her way over to it and spits the wrapper into it. Then she pops the sucker into her mouth, walks back to the chair I pointed out, and sits contentedly.

  Ben looks back at me. “She’s adorable.”

  “Tell me about it. I hate saying no to her.”

  Ben laughs. “I’m sure there will come a time.”

  I laugh too. “Oh, definitely.”

  The door opens and Ben and I turn to see Mrs. Downing walk in with her florist son, Jake. She’s smiling until she sees the two of us standing close, obviously sharing an intimate conversation. She’s still holding on to the prospect of me ending up with one of her sons, and although Ben and I are just good friends, she acts as if he’s a threat to her dreams and plans.

  As they walk toward us, Jake mouths It was my turn from behind her, and both Ben and I try to hide our amused smiles.

  Mrs. Downing starts to prattle on about an end table she’s looking for when suddenly Posey catches her eye. “Ooh,” she breathes. “Oh, my.”

  I can’t tell if it’s the presence of a child in the store that catches her off guard, or if it’s Posey’s missing hands.

  “Mrs. Downing, Jake, let me introduce you to a very special girl. This,” I say, walking toward her, holding my hand out in invitation for her to join us, “is Posey. She is my foster daughter.”

  Mrs. Downing gasps softly, and I send up a quick prayer that she says nothing insensitive where Posey is concerned, either about being a foster child or her obvious physical impairment.

  “Oh, my,” she repeats.

  Jake steps forward and crouches down before Posey. “Oh, my is right, Ma,” he says with a smile. “Posey, it’s nice to meet you. What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

  Posey beams and slightly sways, causing her pale blue dress to swish, swish. I smile, having learned that she loves the attention.

  Jake plays right into it, happily. “Wow, pretty dress! I’ll bet you turn all the heads when you walk down the street!”

  Posey smiles knowingly and nods, causing all of us to laugh.

  Mrs. Downing, however, is not as smooth as her son. “Posey!” she says, all too loudly. Then she proceeds to speak as if Posey is hard of hearing—slow and loud. “ARE YOU HAVING A NICE TIME, DEAR?”

  Posey looks up at the older lady, wide-eyed. “YES,” she says, just as loudly. “ARE YOU?”

  I cover my mouth to keep from bursting with laughter, and find that the two men I’m standing with are also trying to keep their composure.

  Mrs. Downing puts a hand to her chest as if she’s been shocked. “Oh. Oh, my.”

  “Ma, let’s visit next week, see what new items they get in,” Jake says, holding his mother’s elbow and gently guiding her to the door. He looks at me, and I see a spark of laughter lingering in his eyes. “You all have a wonderful day, and Posey, it was so nice meeting you.”

  “YOU TOO,” Posey says, loudly but politely.

  Jake walks his mother out the door before anything more can be said, and as soon as the door closes, Ben and I both explode with laughter.

  * * *

  The day goes well. Mabel and Al love Posey from the first second they lay eyes on her. By lunchtime, Mabel has given her a complete tour, let her play with an old cash register and vintage telephone, and has shown her how to sand a dining table. Posey is completely charming, and I hear laughter more than a few times coming from wherever she is at the moment.

  I’m working on polishing an antique silverware set after lunch when my phone dings in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from Prescott.

  Hey. You busy this evening? I was thinking I could come over. Bring pizza.

  I stare at my phone for a minute. I glance around, as if anyone standing there would know what the text says and how my heart is pounding at the moment. Then I text back three words.

  I don’t know…

  Half a minute goes by and his reply pops up.

  You don’t know if you’re busy? Or you don’t know if you want me over?

  He’s trying to be funny. Cute. I shake my head even though he can’t see me. I decide to go for the question, even though it’s awkward.

  Have you been talking to someone?

  His reply is immediate.

  Yes

  Before I can type my reply, another texts pops up.

  I met with your pastor last evening.

  I swallow. Wow. He really is making an effort. I glance around again, although I’m sure I’m still alone. I can faintly hear Posey chattering to Mabel in the front of the store. Before I can change my mind, I reply.

  I’m sorry. I’m not ready.

  I wait. It takes several moments before he replies.

  I understand. Followed immediately by I’ll wait.

  I set my phone down on the counter next to my silverware set. Then I immediately pick it back up and reply Thank you and set it back down.

  I take a steadying breath, not realizing how shaken I am. I want so much to see Prescott. But I don’t want to jump into anything too quickly. He’s not only been hurt physically, but he’s got some major PTSD to deal with. I’m terrified that if I jump back into “normal” with him too quickly, it won’t have great results.

  I sit on the barstool next to the counter. I close my eyes. Lord, I begin. I need wisdom in this. Guide me in how to move forward with Prescott. And, Father… please protect my heart.

  I raise my head and begin working on the silver once again, glad to have something to do.

  Something to do.

  That’s what Prescott needs. Something to do. Thank you, Lord, I pray as I head to the front of the store to find Al.

  He’s just wishing a customer a good day when I approach him at the register.

  “Al, I have an idea.”

  “Oh?” he says, eyebrows raising. “Let’s hear it.”

  “As you know, Prescott is, well…” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “Working on himself right now.”

  Al nods knowingly.

  “Is there something you can have him do here, maybe, that would keep him busy? Keep his mind from dwelling on every little problem, everything he can’t do? Maybe even help him see that he’s not useless?” My voice is hopeful.

  Al comes around the counter to stand in front of me, and I can almost see the wheels in his head turning. Shaking his finger, he says, “You know, I just may have an idea.” Al looks at me and smiles. “Anne, I believe you’re on to something.”

  I love Al’s grandfatherly spirit. Any chance he has at teaching someone or investing into their lives is an opportunity he won’t pass up.

  “So, you think you could give him something to do?” I ask hopefully.

  “Remember George over at the used car lot on Michigan Avenue?”

  I nod.

  “Well, he has a side business. A hobby, really, but he does sell sometimes. Anyway, he restores old cars. Always looking for someone to give him a hand.”

  I tip my head in thought. “Are there many others that work there?”

  Al shakes his head. “Not at this place. The car lot, yes. But his side business is in an old barn right on his property. He doesn’t get a lot of folks interested, because he can’t pay very much. So, the majority of people who help him out do it for their love of cars.”

 

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