Now Prescott thinks—a lot. I understand. He’s living a different life now. But sometimes I miss him being so open with me. Sharing out loud everything that came across his mind. I wonder what he’s thinking now, so I ask.

  He shrugs, looking at me and giving a smile that’s genuine, but not overenthusiastic. “Just thinking that if things had gone differently, I may not have been here to celebrate my birthday this year, you know?”

  “Yeah.” I do understand.

  “Either way,” he continues. “If there had never been an accident, I’d still be there, working. On the other hand, if the truck had not landed on my arm, but somewhere else…” his voice trails off as he glances in the back toward Posey.

  I reach over and gently squeeze his arm, right above the elbow. We’re both getting more comfortable with me touching his arm. “Yeah.” I let him know I get exactly what he’s saying. “It’s crazy to think about.”

  “I was so mad, you know?” He looks back out his window, and I wait for him to continue. “I felt like I had so much taken from me.” Another long pause. “I realize now that I got to keep so much more.”

  I fight the hot tears that make my vision a little blurry, blinking them away so I can see the road clearly again.

  “I’d rather be here, like this,” he gestures to his left arm, “with you and Posey, on my way to see family, than not here at all.”

  I feel a hot tear escape despite my efforts to keep it in, and I swipe at it before he notices.

  “Me too,” I say, and I can’t hide the emotion in my voice.

  “Me too!” says a high little voice from the back, and Prescott and I look at each other, surprised. We didn’t realize she’d been listening. “I’m glad you’re here, too, Prescott.”

  Posey says it so casually, slipping it into our conversation like it was nothing, then continues singing softly, picking right back up where she left off.

  Then, before I turn back to the road, I see a tear slip from Prescott’s own eye.

  * * *

  The birthday barbecue is a blast. Although Prescott is the guest of honor, Posey totally steals the show. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she grew up watching Shirley Temple movies. But she’s assured me more than once she doesn’t even know who she is.

  Posey beams every time someone compliments her outfit or her hair—which is in two French braids with red ribbons at the end—and never forgets to thank them.

  I beam with pride over her, so proud of the little human she is. I see some pride in Prescott as well when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s enjoying seeing everyone dote on Posey.

  Billie and Merrick are here, and I love how adorable she looks being pregnant. In just a few months, we’ll both have little girls.

  That is, if everything with the adoption goes smoothly.

  I’m sitting in a patio chair with a glass of the raspberry tea Billie brought. I hear a roar of laughter and look over to see that Prescott has won a game of cornhole against Will. He’s shameless rubbing it in Will’s face. I smile. It’s beginning to feel normal again.

  “Aaaaanne!” Posey calls in her little sing-song voice I love.

  I set my glass of tea down and walk over to where she and Nicole are drawing with chalk on the cement patio.

  Posey beams up at me, waiting for me to say something about her rainbow.

  “Oooohhhh,” I gush. “Great job! It’s beautiful!”

  Posey nods her head in agreement, and Nicole and I laugh.

  “Hers is pretty, too,” Posey says, waving her arm in the direction of Nicole’s chalk drawing.

  I look down and see a… dog? I can’t tell. I look at Nicole inquiringly.

  “It’s a bunny,” she deadpans, knowing full well I couldn’t tell.

  “It’s… beautiful!” I try my hardest not to laugh.

  “Her bunny is special.” Posey looks at Nicole confidently. “Different doesn’t mean bad,” she recites, and I almost lose it right there.

  “You’re right, sweetie,” I say, crouching down to squeeze her. “Different doesn’t mean bad.”

  A few minutes later, Penny yells that the food is ready, and we all grab our plates and get in line. The ribs smell delicious, and I can’t wait to dig in.

  Once we’re all seated with our plates, Merrick blesses the food and we eat. I notice a few people who haven’t known Posey long watching her curiously. I swell with pride as I watch her myself. She rarely asks for help because if she can figure out a way to do it on her own, she tries that first. It’s incredible to watch her.

  I nearly get teary-eyed thinking of how she fits right in with this family. I say another quick prayer that everything with the adoption goes well, because, at this point, if I lost Posey, it would shatter my heart.

  * * *

  It’s starting to get dark as we say our goodbyes. I know Posey will be asleep before we pull out of the driveway, as hard as she played this afternoon. Prescott and I get all of his gifts into the trunk, then slide into our seats and buckle up. I glance back at Posey, who is covered in the unicorn blanket she brought with her for the ride, eyes already drooping.

  I pull out of the driveway and onto the main road. “That was really fun.”

  “It was,” Prescott agrees, and I feel like there’s a bit of surprise there.

  “Did you not think it would be?” I ask.

  “No, nothing like that.” He rubs his eyes with his hand, as if to rub the tiredness away. “I just didn’t know what to expect. I still get nervous that people will treat me differently. I mean, I know things are different,” he says. “I just want things to go back to being as normal as they possibly can.”

  “I get that,” I say.

  He turns to look at Posey and grins. “She’s out.”

  I laugh. “Oh, I knew she would be.”

  “It was nice.”

  “What was?” I ask.

  “Having her there. She was like a breath of fresh air. Everyone loved her.” He pauses. “And it kind of took the pressure off me a little. People weren’t watching me like they do sometimes.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Not that it’s a big deal. I don’t even think people realize they’re doing it. But it was sort of nice having Posey steal the show a bit.”

  I laugh quietly, not wanting to startle the little star in the backseat. “And steal the show, she does,” I agree. “That girl is a modern-day Shirley Temple.”

  Prescott laughs too. “Yes! Oh, man, you’re right. She is.”

  Conversation is easy and light all the way home, and when I pull up to his car in my apartment’s parking lot, we sit for a minute before getting out.

  “I can help you carry her in,” he offers.

  “Oh, it’s okay. I’m a pro now,” I joke. “Let’s get your gifts into your truck.”

  Prescott is staying with Tyler, a friend from church. His brother recently got married and moved out, leaving the roommate spot open. Prescott hasn’t made a long-term commitment, but Tyler has agreed to rent the space to him for a few months while he figures things out. I’m glad. He needs a little space from his family. Not that they haven’t been wonderful—they have. But it’s hard to be independent while still depending on your loved ones for so much.

  After loading up his truck with the gifts and containers of leftovers Penny sent, we stand between the vehicles for a moment. Prescott hasn’t tried to kiss me again since the other night, and I wonder if he will now.

  “Well, happy birthday,” I finally say, giving him a smile.

  He reaches for me and pulls me in for a warm hug. I wrap my arms around him, breathing in his scent.

  “Thank you,” he murmurs into the top of my head. “For everything.”

  I press my cheek to his chest and say, “You’re welcome.”

  He holds me for a few seconds more before pulling away. “Are you sure I can’t help you with her?” He nods to the backseat.

  “I’m sure. But thank you.”

  “Well,” he pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

  I nod, smiling. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  He gives me a warm grin that melts me a little, then gets into his truck. I wave as he pulls away. I turn to get Posey out of the car, and I can’t help wondering why he didn’t try to kiss me tonight.

  And I don’t fight the disappointment.

  Chapter 22

  The weeks are flying by, and so much is happening. Things at work have been changing, and quickly. Ben has slipped into his role as owner effortlessly and he’s doing a great job. Al and Mabel have been having a blast planning trips, researching clubs, connecting with old friends. They’re retiring at the perfect time, ready to enjoy this season of life and each other.

  We’re planning a retirement party for them, and I don’t know who’s more excited about it—me or them. Planning events is a highlight in my life. Not on the scale of Merrick and Billie—although I’d never turn down a chance to work with them—but birthdays, showers, graduations… those are my sweet spot. I have a few ideas for this retirement party that I can’t wait to implement. Oh! And Ben’s parents are flying in and I’m beyond excited to meet them.

  Then there’s Posey’s adoption. I’m surprised at how smoothly things are moving along. I guess I expected it to be a long, grueling process, which, in many cases, it is. But since Posey has no relatives interested in adopting her, and things have been going so well between us, everything has gone as smoothly as I could hope for.

  I keep holding my breath, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, as if everything is going a little too smoothly, and then I feel guilty, as if I’m not trusting the Lord.

  It’s just that so much has happened in the last year, and I feel like it has been one extreme or the other. Emotionally, I’m spent. But as good things keep happening, I feel myself growing a little stronger bit by bit.

  Overall, I feel like I’m in a really good place right now and I’m thankful.

  It’s Saturday morning and Posey is watching a show and playing with her dolls, and Prescott and I are at the table.

  “What do you think of this one?” I ask, turning my laptop toward him.

  He looks for a moment, then says, “I think I like the last one better.”

  We’re looking at retirement gifts for Al and Mabel, and we’ve decided to go with a specialty coffee maker, one that makes hot and iced coffee, espresso, lattes, and pretty much anything else you can think of.

  Al used to make a pot of coffee every morning at the store. He’d use whatever grounds he found on sale, and his coffee was always hit-or-miss. When Ben began working at the store, he’d bring in different types of coffee for Al to try at least twice a week. He’d bring iced coffee one day, cappuccino the next time, a special coffee from a local shop the next.

  Al became a coffee snob. I was so entertained by his discovery of new flavors and ways to make coffee that I began looking up specialty coffee shops in the area for Ben to order from, and I’d make sure I was present when Al took his first sip. Now that he won’t be having his coffee every day at the store, I thought it might be nice for him to learn to make whatever kind he wants in his own home. The possibilities are endless. Mabel is a coffee lover as well, so this seemed like the perfect gift.

  I look at the screen again, then go back to the previous page. “You’re right,” I say. “This one has more options.”

  “What color are you thinking?”

  “Probably the black,” I say. “I don’t want to get anything that will clash with their decor.”

  Prescott nods. “Did the hall get back with you?”

  “Yesterday, yeah. It’s a go. We’ll start at four and we have the whole evening. They close at eleven, so as long as we’re out by then, we’re good.”

  “Good,” Prescott says.

  His phone rings and when he looks at it, he frowns. “I gotta take this,” he says as he stands from the table and heads to the door. I watch him step out into the hallway of the apartments and hear his “Hello?” as he closes the door.

  I hope everything is alright.

  Posey turns around and looks at me over the back of the couch. “Where did he go?”

  “He went to answer a phone call, honey. He’ll be back in a minute.”

  Posey nods, turns around and gets back to her show.

  I’m scrolling through another page of coffee makers when I hear the door open again. Prescott walks in, and I can tell immediately something is wrong.

  I look at him questioningly as I stand and walk to him.

  “That was Sergeant Emery. He wants to meet with me.”

  “What about?”

  “He didn’t say, specifically. Just that there’s something he needs to share with me, and he’d like to do it in person. Next week.”

  “Where?”

  “On base.”

  I see that the color has drained from his face, and he looks as if he might be sick.

  “Prescott,” I say, gently squeezing his arm. “Don’t automatically expect the worst.”

  We walk back to the table and he takes a seat, then rubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know if I can do this. I haven’t been to the base since…” he lets the unfinished sentence linger.

  “Do you…” I begin, unsure. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  He looks up at me. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course,” I say, not even hesitating. “If I’m allowed.”

  He nods. “I’ll double-check, but I’m sure you are.” He stares at me a moment more before saying softly, “Thank you, Anne.”

  I smile. “Anytime.”

  * * *

  Getting through the week is hard. Waiting patiently for this meeting with his sergeant is proving quite difficult for Prescott, and I find myself having to have a little extra grace with him, as he has never been this on edge.

  He called me Sunday after church and went over about ten different scenarios that his mind had conjured up. Every one of them ended with him in trouble somehow.

  “Prescott,” I said, trying my hardest not to laugh. “Stop imagining every worst-case scenario, or I’m going to call this Sergeant Emery of yours and tell him you’re acting like a child.”

  “I feel like a child!” he said. “It’s worse than sitting in the hallway outside of the principal’s office, waiting your turn.”

  “Oh, and I’m the dramatic one?” I said dryly.

  Then, he texted me several times through the week to make sure I hadn’t changed my mind about going with him.

  I have it all worked out, I had texted back. Billie is going to keep Posey while we go.

  Just checking, he replied.

  Now, it’s Friday and I just have to make it through one more work day. I’m in the waiting room, working on a cute little table that would be perfect for a child’s nursery, when I hear a light knock on the door frame. The door is open, but Ben is just trying not to startle me.

  I look up and smile. “Come on in,” I say, standing and wiping my hands on a clean rag. “What’s up?”

  Ben holds up some papers with notes on them. “Could use a little help choosing the menu for the party. We could go with…” he looks down at the paper and reads, “Hot Mama’s BBQ, or…” he flips to another paper. “Geoffrey’s Grill. Both are comparable in price per plate.”

  “Ooohhh, do you have a list of what each serves for a plate?”

  He hands me a third piece of paper, and I look over the menu, mouth watering. “These both sound great,” I admit. “But these wings,” I say, pointing to Hot Mama’s extra spicy wing options, “sound like they just might be the deciding factor.”

  Ben grins. “I thought so, too.” He takes the papers back, rolling them all up into a tube. He stands there for a moment.

  “Anything else?” I ask, hoping I’m not sounding like I’m dismissing him. But he’s not saying anything and I don’t want it to get awkward.

  “So, uh, there’s this thing tonight. Downtown.” he adds. “I guess some well-known politician from the nineties has passed, and his home was filled with incredible antique furniture. They’re having an auction at seven. I thought maybe we could go and see if there’s any pieces we want to bid on.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. But the way he seems so nervous… it’s as if he’s asking me on a date.

  “Oh, that sounds fun, actually, but I already have plans this evening.” I look up at him. “With Prescott.”

  “Oh, okay, sure,” he says, acting like it’s no big deal. “So, how’s he doing? Are you guys…” he gestures with his hand back and forth as if to say together.

  “Yeah,” I say, softly. “We’re really trying. He’s doing well. Much better than he was.”

  Ben’s head drops and he runs a hand over his hair. Looking up at me again, he says, “Okay then. I understand.” There’s a finality in his tone, and I know now that he gets it. I’m working things out with Prescott. I’m not available.

  I smile at him, reassuring him that we’re still friends no matter what.

  He smiles back—a bit halfheartedly. “Maybe I’ll see if Uncle Al wants to take one more field trip with me.”

  “I bet he’d love that.”

  We spend the next few minutes talking about food for the party, some new items that came in this week, and even Posey. We fall back into our easy, friendly conversation.

  To be honest, I don’t think there are—or have been—any real feelings on Ben’s part. It’s just that we’ve gotten along so well since he started working here. We’ve had an easy friendship from the beginning, and sometimes I think that he likes the comfort in that. Like we could start dating and not have to try. But there’s never been that kind of attraction. No spark, no mystery. No flutters like I feel around Prescott, even still. Ben just hasn’t met the right woman yet. When he does, I know he’ll be thankful we never tried to force anything between us.

  I make a mental note to add Ben’s future relationship to my prayer list. I truly wish the best for him.

  Chapter 23

  Friday, I walk through the door after work, heading to the bathroom to clean up quickly. I’m going to change, have a quick bite to eat, then I’ll pick Prescott up. He’s so nervous already, and he’s just getting used to driving again. He’s doing great, and that’s probably because he’s always pretty much driven one-handed anyway. But with the added stress, I offered to drive and he gladly accepted.

 

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