Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface), page 11
I begin to pace slowly, my mind working out a hundred little things. Prescott could help George out in a quiet, secluded place where people wouldn’t constantly be staring at him. He’d be able to relearn some basic skills, and, more importantly, how to do them one-handed. He could make mistakes and not be on display. I know this George. He’s a super laid-back guy who just loves people.
My stomach flutters with anticipation. This is perfect. Oh, thank you, Lord! I clasp my hands together and do a little jump where I stand.
Al laughs. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen this kind of excitement from you, Anne.” His eyes twinkle. “I’m glad to see it again.”
I reach to hug him, squeezing tightly. “I am excited,” I say. “Well, I’m excited now.” I laugh. “We’ll see if I still am after I talk to Prescott.” I give him a look that says it could go either way.
“Well, let me speak with George this week. Hopefully, I’ll have an answer for you by next Monday.”
I quickly squeeze Al again. Stepping back but keeping my hands on his shoulders, I look him in the eye. “I owe you a batch of apple tarts.”
“I’ll take them!”
I grin. “Okay. Let me know as soon as you can.”
When I walk back to finish my silver polishing, I’m still wearing that grin.
Chapter 17
“So, I have to take Posey to see a child therapist once a week,” I tell Billie Friday evening. “So she can talk about her aunt, the transition here, and everything that comes with it.”
“Good,” Billie says. “That’s good. It’ll be healthy for her to talk to someone. It can’t all fall on you.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too. I mean, what if I say the wrong thing? Give her the wrong advice? Scar her more than she already is?” Suddenly I feel slightly panicked. “Oh my gosh, Bill, what if I mess her up somehow?”
“Whoa, Anne. Calm it down.” Billie chuckles, and I know it’s not out of making fun of me. She’s familiar with me and my emotional roller coaster rides. “How can you mess up a child by loving her and doing the best you can? Every new parent feels this way. I haven’t even met little Ginger yet, and already I feel overwhelmed about raising her to turn out right.”
“Oh, it’s Ginger, today, is it?”
The last few weeks, Billie has been trying out names to see how they sound when she casually talks about her daughter. So far, little girl Anderson has been Lilly, Betty, Cassandra, Victoria, Grace, Edith, Juliana, and now Ginger.
“I like Ginger,” Billie says thoughtfully. “It makes me feel like she’ll have some spunk.”
“She’s Merrick’s daughter,” I deadpan. “She’ll have spunk no matter what you name her.”
We both laugh and I’m starting to feel more relaxed. I let out a slow breath and peek around the corner of the living room to see Posey happily folding a little blanket around her baby doll, looking up every so often at the TV, which is once again playing her favorite movie.
“I guess I just don’t want to be the cause of any extra trauma in her life. Especially with Prescott coming back around. I mean, what would I have done if Posey had been with me when he showed up drunk?”
“Well, thank God she wasn’t. And now you’re making sure to be extra careful when it comes to Prescott, so I wouldn’t worry. You have to relax, Anne. Life is going to happen—we can’t control that. What we can control is our reaction to what life throws at us. You have a great support system already. You can do this.”
I tear up at her encouraging words and manage to choke out “Thanks, Bill.”
“Don’t you start crying on me, Anne Renee Quinn! I’m pregnant and you know it doesn’t take much for me to join you!”
I laugh and swipe at my eyes. “I’m not, I’m not. I’d better go, though. I have to call and schedule her first therapy appointment.”
“Let me know how it goes. And Anne?”
“Yeah.”
“If you need me to go with you two, just say the word.”
“Love you, girl. Thanks.”
I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Love you too, cuz.”
We end the call and I grab the sheet of paper Felicia gave me with the therapist’s office number on it.
“Well, Anne,” I tell myself out loud. “Time to start being a parent.”
* * *
When I walk into the store the next morning, Al greets me with a thumbs up. “It’s a go, if Prescott agrees to it.”
“That’s amazing,” I say excitedly as I throw my purse behind the counter. “I’ll call Prescott tonight. Thank you again, Al. I think this is a really good thing.”
“It was my pleasure, dear, and I agree.” He checks to make sure the sign is turned to “Open” and unlocks the front door. “George is a very patient man. I can’t think of a better place for Prescott to work. I’ll write down the details of what we talked about last night—days, times, pay—and leave it for you on the counter there.”
I nod, then pull my hair back and secure my ponytail before grabbing an apron and slipping it over my head. Tying it around the back, I let Al know that I’ll be working on staining the dining table that I finally finished sanding.
“Mabel will be in around lunchtime. She’s headed to Novi this morning to check out an estate sale.” He smiles slyly. “She’s bringing leftover pot pies.”
I let my head fall back and my mouth waters just thinking about Mabel’s pot pies.
“Ohhhh,” I say. “Chicken or turkey?”
“Chicken. From her roaster,” he adds.
“Great,” I tease. “I won’t be able to think about anything else until lunch.” I look up, curious. “Is Ben coming in today?”
“Nope. He’s knee-deep in invoice filing. Says it’s easier in his home office where there are no distractions.”
My shoulders slump a bit. I haven’t seen Ben in over a week. I miss our lunches and talks. “Oh. Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
“Sure thing, dear,” Al says as I walk to the waiting room.
I begin gathering my supplies—the stain, a brush, my favorite soft rag—and wonder how Posey is doing with Billie today. They get along great, so I’m not worried. I just think about the things I may miss. Posey is so witty and entertaining; I just know Billie is going to have a dozen stories for me when I get home. I sigh. I guess this is how every working parent feels.
Al and Mabel both told me I can bring Posey to work anytime I need to, but I want to save those days for emergencies. If Billie is able to keep her, I want her to start having a daily routine. Get used to her new normal.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I grab it, thankful I don’t have brown stain all over my hands yet. It’s a text from Prescott.
Hey, good morning. Just wanted to tell you I had a great meeting with Pastor Harden last night.
I smile. Good news for first thing in the morning.
That’s fantastic, I text back. Thanks for letting me know.
Of course, followed by a heart-eyed emoji.
My heart does a little skip and before I overthink it, I text back, Hey, wanna meet me for lunch today? After hitting send, I quickly add, If you’re free. I just want to run something by you.
After a moment, his reply comes through.
Sure. What time?
I set up a time and place for us to meet, and he tells me he’s looking forward to it. I’ll need to tell Mabel to save some pot pie for me to take home. I just can’t wait til this evening to talk to Prescott about our idea.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and get back to work, smiling. I think this may be the thing to break Prescott out of his fog. I imagine all the scenarios in my mind. Prescott becoming a master mechanic and starting his own business. Prescott taking me to dinner and thanking me for changing his life.
I chuckle softly to myself. There go my romantic notions, taking on a life of their own again. But I just can’t help it. I want so badly for Prescott to see that his life isn’t over. He just needs to… adjust a bit.
We all do.
I sigh and dip my brush into the stain.
* * *
I pull into Basil’s parking lot and look for an open parking spot. It’s my new favorite sub place, though I don’t think I’ve been yet without Ben. I’m hoping Prescott and I have a great lunch and conversation, and that things won’t be weird for me here from now on.
I climb out of the car and head to the front door, but it opens before I can grab the handle. Prescott stands there smiling. I walk through the door with a polite “Thank you.”
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with Prescott. I’m not worried and I don’t feel unsafe. It’s just that things are different now. It’s like we’re starting over, but weirder, because we’ve already had an experience of falling in love. With each other. I still love him and care what happens to him, but our whole dynamic has changed. This actually is a brand new relationship. This is a new Prescott. And I feel like I have changed a bit this last year. Then there’s Posey…
“I’m glad you wanted to have lunch,” Prescott says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Oh, me too,” I say quickly, sliding into the booth he chooses for us.
“Do you know what you want?” He asks. “I’ll go order for us.”
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good,” I answer, and give him my simple order of a turkey and cheese sub and plain chips.
He heads to the counter and I pull out the piece of paper Al left for me, the one with all the details of the job. I quickly say a prayer that this will go smoothly. That Prescott won’t feel like some sort of charity case but will see this as an opportunity to start living life again. I pray that God will give me the right words and that Prescott would know that I still care about him, no matter which way this relationship goes.
I’m playing with a salt packet when Prescott slides into the booth with our order. “It smells really good,” he says. “I’ve never eaten here.”
“Oh, that’s right!” I say. “They opened a few months ago, when you were still…”
Prescott looks at me with an apologetic smile. “It’s okay. I can handle whatever you want to say.”
I shake my head, opening my bag of chips. “No. No, this is going to be a fun lunch. No heavy stuff.”
He laughs and I ask if he minds if I pray over the food.
He looks up at me, and I’m not sure but I think I see a look of hurt flash across his face before he masks it and says, “Of course. Please.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and wish I could take the question back. This is Prescott! Of course he doesn’t mind if I pray. He’s not some man who turned his back on God and now wants nothing to do with him. He’s just…
I quickly pray before things get any more awkward, then pop a chip into my mouth as soon as I say “amen.”
Prescott grins at me, and it’s such an easy smile; I remember how I used to nearly swoon when he looked at me like that. For a moment, he seems like the same old Prescott.
Then he proceeds to try to unwrap his sub one-handed, and I remember that nothing is the same.
“Do you need—”
“Nope, I got it,” he says a little too quickly, so I look away, busying myself with unwrapping my own sub.
It takes him a few extra seconds, but soon he’s got his sub laid neatly on his wrapper and he’s opening his chips with his teeth.
I don’t comment. I just focus on my own food, then say, “I have an idea I want to talk to you about.”
Prescott is chewing, but his eyebrows rise in question, so I continue.
“Okay. So, there’s this guy, George. And he has a car lot. But he also has a side business. And he needs help. But not at the lot—there’s lots of workers there, but at the business, which is at a barn. Well, more like on his property in a barn, but if you like cars—”
I stop when I see Prescott is laughing.
“What?” I demand, but I’m on the verge of laughing myself.
He wipes at his mouth with his napkin and swallows. “You’re not making a bit of sense, and it’s cute.”
I feel my face burn as I put my head in my hands, laughing now. “I need to start at the beginning,” I say. I take a breath, then begin telling him about my idea, my conversation with Al, and the reason for this lunch.
* * *
When I get back into my car to head back to work, I’m grinning. Prescott was open to the idea. He asked questions and I answered as best I could. I gave him George’s number and he said he’ll call him as soon as he gets home.
Thank you, Lord, I pray. That could’ve gone a totally different way. But it went better than I imagined.
I breathe a relieved sigh as I pull out on the main road. I’m just going to trust that God is still working on Prescott’s heart. I know He can do a better job than I ever could. I trust Him.
Lord, I silently pray, whatever You have in store for us, help me be patient. Help me remember that You have a plan, and it may not be what I think should happen, or how it should happen. Help me be at peace with Your will.
Suddenly, I remember a verse I read a few days ago. Jeremiah 42:6. “Whether it is pleasing or displeasing, we will obey the voice of the Lord our God to whom we send you, that it may be well with us when we obey the voice of the Lord our God.”
One part stands out to me. Whether it is pleasing or displeasing. And I know, in this moment, that whatever lies ahead, good or bad, God is in control, and I will obey Him. I will trust Him. And I will believe that all things will work together for the good.
Chapter 18
“You can come and visit me. My address is 500 Moon Street. You have to take a rocket to get there and wear a spacesuit. But once you get in my house, you can take it off because we have real air.”
Posey bobs her Barbie doll up and down as she makes the doll “talk.”
I stifle a laugh—Posey is being perfectly serious—as my Barbie answers in a high-pitched voice, “That would be just lovely. I’ve always wanted to visit the moon.”
It’s a lazy Saturday morning and I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, surrounded by Barbie dolls, tiny shoes, plastic food, and about a million other accessories. And I’m actually having a blast.
I loved playing pretend when I was younger. Billie and I would play for hours on end, whether it was with Barbies, baby dolls, or as made-up characters. We never ran out of things to pretend, and I remember being just as outrageous as Posey, with her Barbie living on the moon with “real air.”
“Yes,” Posey continues, her Barbie still bobbing confidently. “And we eat space food. It’s like regular food, except it floats.”
I can’t contain my laughter anymore, and I let it out. Posey laughs too, enjoying our Barbies’ exchange.
“Speaking of food,” I say, “I think the pizza rolls are almost ready. Should we wash up and get to the table?”
Posey nods and drops her Barbie, leaving her on the floor. Usually, I’d make her pick up the mess before we ate, but I know she’ll pick right back up where we left off after lunch, so I let it go.
Once we’re washed and seated at the table with our pile of pizza rolls and chopped cucumbers (Posey’s favorite side), we pray together and begin eating.
“Why do we say grace?”
Posey’s question is unexpected at the moment, but doesn’t surprise me. She’s been asking a lot of questions about God these last few days. Some of her questions are easily answered, and some have to be explained on her level. Either way, I’ve come to love our little chats.
“Well, it’s good to keep a thankful heart,” I say. “Every good thing comes from God, and we should always thank Him.”
This answer seems to satisfy her, and she happily blows on a pizza roll before popping it into her mouth.
I know the time will come, though, when the questions will get more serious and the answers more complicated. I’ve already ordered a few parenting books that can help me navigate through it a little easier.
I watch Posey eat and hum to herself, content and happy. I can’t stop the tears that form in my eyes—not from sadness, but in gratefulness. That God would choose me to care for this little one. She’s so special, and I already love her as if I gave birth to her. When I think about my future, I see her in it. When I think of her not being with me, I feel a great sense of loss. I love this little girl, and I want to be her mother.
The realization hits hard, and I want to scoop Posey up into my arms and squeeze hard, but I don’t want to scare her. But I do want to be her mom. I know that now. And after lunch, I’m going to call Felicia.
* * *
Ben is in the store Monday morning, and I greet him with a bear hug.
“I’ve missed you!” I say genuinely.
He grins at me and says, “I’ve missed you, too.”
I swallow and step back. There’s a look in his eyes and something in his tone…
“So,” I say quickly, not wanting this to get weird. “Crunching all the numbers at home finally got boring enough for ya, huh?”
“Something like that,” he says with a light chuckle. “I really missed being here with… everyone.”
Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh. Please don’t make this awkward, Ben.
“Anne,” Ben begins, and his tone clearly says I need to tell you something.
My mouth goes dry as I try to swallow. “What’s up?” I say, a lot cooler than I feel at the moment.
“I haven’t just been crunching the numbers from home,” he starts. “I’ve been… let’s just say…” He searches for the right words. “Doing some adjusting.”
“Adjusting?” I’m not getting his meaning.
He runs a hand through his hair. “Anne, my aunt and uncle are retiring.”
I angle my head, looking confused. “But the store… are they selling?”
“They’re giving it to me. I’ll be the new owner of Old Things, New Things.”
