Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface), page 16
Al and Mabel are the cutest. Mabel is wearing a deep blue dress that’s lacy on top and satiny from the waist to the floor. Al has a suit with the same color bow tie. Neither of them have stopped smiling since they arrived.
Dinner was delicious, and the cake was a masterpiece—chocolate and vanilla swirl with buttercream frosting, decorated like a sandy beach, complete with a little beach chair and umbrella.
Now everyone is visiting and dancing. I glance across my table at Prescott. Though he’s been a little on the quiet side, he seems to be in good spirits. Posey is sitting next to him in the most adorable party dress—purple with ruffles—and she’s sharing some kind of story that has his eyes dancing with laughter.
I sigh. The way he looks at her. As if she’s already a precious part of his life.
Lord, can you make this work? Is this your plan? Some days I long for the way it was before Prescott left for Afghanistan. When things were what most people would call “normal.” But other days, I just want to move on and see what God has for us—all three of us. I think about the verse “All things work together for the good of those that love Him and are called according to His purpose,” and I know and believe that nothing has happened by accident. God isn’t wringing his hands and wondering what’s going to happen next. He has a plan. A purpose.
Suddenly, an upbeat Motown song starts playing and Posey jumps from her chair. “Let’s dance, Prescott!”
Prescott laughs and stands. “I’d be honored to dance with you, Posey.”
I smile and watch the two of them make their way to the little dance floor where a dozen or so guests are already dancing. Posey starts twisting back and forth, making her ruffles fly. Prescott stand back a bit, letting her do her thing, watching with adoration and amusement. I mean, let’s face it—Posey didn’t really care if someone danced with her, as long as they took her out to the floor so she could dance. I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter as she just takes over the dance floor.
Everyone is clapping and cheering Posey on, and she’s eating up every second of it, coming up with new moves every few seconds. Finally, the song comes to an end, and a much slower, more romantic song begins.
Posey shrugs and walks back to the table, clearly satisfied with the few minutes in which she got to show off her moves.
I’m watching her when I hear a quiet, low voice in my ear. “Dance with me, Miss Quinn?”
I turn and Prescott is bending over my chair, his face right next to mine when I turn to him. My heart skips a bit as I accept his invitation, standing as he holds his hand out to me. I take it, reveling in its strength and warmth. He leads me out where the other couples have already started to dance, and I see Al and Mabel among them. They look absolutely adorable, smiling at each other, clearly enjoying the dance as if they’re the only two in the room. I’m thrilled they’re having such a great time.
Prescott pulls me close, and suddenly I’m aware of nothing but us and the music. He smells so good, and I fight the urge to lean in and inhale. He wraps his right arm around my lower back, keeping us together, and I put my arms around his neck. This feels so… right.
“Anne,” he murmurs into my ear, and his warm breath sends a shiver down my neck. “How I’ve missed you.”
I know what he means. We’ve been together, we’ve talked, we’ve hung out. But something was missing. That intimate relationship where we knew we were planning a life together. Everything has been so up in the air, so unsteady, like we’ve been in a trial period.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I whisper.
He pulls me even closer, and I rest my head on his shoulder as we sway to the music. I close my eyes, just enjoying the closeness. I don’t think about the past, or everything that’s happened. I just enjoy him. His warmth, his scent, his… safeness. I let out a small sigh.
Too soon, the song ends and he’s gently pulling away from me. He holds onto my hand as we walk back to the table to join Posey, Billie, and Merrick.
Billie leans over, smiling. “Look,” she says, nodding her head toward another table.
I glance over and see Ben grinning and talking with a tall, pretty brunette. I smile. “Who is it?”
“One of Al and Mabel’s good friends’ and neighbors’ daughter. Her name is Olivia. She’s twenty-six, and she’s a med student.”
I lean back, feigning shock. “How could you possibly know all that?” I say, holding back my laughter.
Merrick puts his arm around his wife, and leans toward me. “When you’re too tired from your pregnancy to dance, what else is there to do but ask questions?” he answers, humor flashing in his eyes.
Billie swats him playfully. “You told me to ask!” she whisper-shouts.
We’re all laughing when I finally say, “I’m so happy to see him having such a good time.”
“Does Mr. Ben have a girlfriend?” Posey asks, cheeks still bright from the dancing.
“I certainly hope so,” I say. Then I think of Mrs. Downing. She’ll be so disappointed.
* * *
I close the door to Posey’s room softly, not wanting to wake her, although I don’t think that’s possible after the exciting night she had. She didn’t even wake when I changed her into her pajamas. I walk quietly to the living room, where Prescott is waiting on the couch. He gestures to the coffee table, where a cup of tea sits.
“Chamomile,” he says.
“Aw, thanks.” I pick it up and inhale the comforting scent before taking a small sip.
I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over my lap, getting comfortable.
“That was a great party,” he offers, getting the conversation started.
“It was,” I agree. “Thanks for all the help with the planning. Some of your ideas were great.”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I got to spend time with you. It was fun.”
I sip my tea and he takes a drink of his water.
After a moment, Prescott says, “Nothing makes sense anymore, Anne.”
I look up at him. “What do you mean?” I don’t know whether he’s talking about us, what happened with Sergeant Emery the other day, or life in general.
“I mean,” he continues, and there’s a bit of an edge to his tone. He’s not angry, but he’s clearly not happy. “I mean that nothing is making sense. Nothing is turning out as planned.” He sets his water on the coffee table and stands, then starts to pace. He’s talking now as if he’s laying out all the pieces to a puzzle, trying to sort them. “We were supposed to be together, fall in love, marry, and have kids. I was supposed to retire from the Marines while still young enough to enjoy life.” He pauses and turns to look at me. “There are so many places, Anne. So many breathtaking views across this world that I wanted to show you. I traveled for years to so many amazing places, and never thought I’d go back. But since I’ve gotten to know you, now when I think about the places I’ve been, the things I’ve experienced, I don’t think, Oh, I’d like to visit again someday. No, now it’s I’ve got to take Anne there. All I’ve thought about since I’ve met you is our future, and how perfect it would be.”
I stand now, stepping toward him.”Prescott,” I begin.
He holds a hand up. “No, let me finish. Please.”
I nod.
He shakes his head and a look of anguish crumples his features. “It’s like someone has taken that dream from me and ripped it up in front of my face. ‘This is what you COULD have had, Prescott.’ And now, it’s lying at my feet, unable to be put together again, but always in my view. Always there to remind me what I can no longer have.”
I step a bit closer and reach out for him. He doesn’t protest when I place my hand on his arm.
“Then,” he goes on, “I learn about Farah and her sons. I meet Posey. I start to rebuild my life from the pieces I’m left with. One day, I think I’m going to be fine. The next day, I’m angry all over again!” His voice is rising, and I hear the frustration. “Gah,” he grunts in annoyance, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I just don’t understand any of it!”
I’m fighting tears as he looks down at me.
“Why?” he asks. “Why is God letting this happen? I don’t understand.”
I reach up, taking his face gently in both my hands, and search his eyes. I see anger, hurt, confusion. I gently shake my head and say, “We’re not always meant to understand, honey.” I pull him down and place a soft, comforting kiss to his mouth. Then I whisper, “We are meant to trust Him.”
Chapter 26
I had no idea my words to Prescott about trusting God would echo back to me so literally.
It’s Monday morning and I am in tears.
I woke up to a phone call from Felicia. I could tell the second she said my name that something was wrong.
“Anne,” she had said, hurriedly. “We just got a phone call from Posey’s mother’s aunt Vicky. We didn’t even know she existed.”
My heart pounded and suddenly I was wide awake.
“Wait, what? Aunt Vicky? Who is that?” But I dreaded her answer.
I heard Felicia take a breath, then she said, “Posey’s closest living relative.”
I sat up in my bed, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and tried to clear my foggy brain. “Okay… okay,” I had said. “Well, I’ve started the adoption process for Posey already. That counts for something, right?”
“Key word here is started,” Felicia said. “Nothing’s final yet and her aunt has the right to also sign an intent to adopt.”
“What does that mean?” I could hear the fear in my own voice.
“It means that this could get really complicated.”
Complicated.
That word is bouncing around in my brain with no outlet. It’s just stuck there. Will Posey ever be my family? It’s complicated. Will this aunt steal her away from me? Well, it’s complicated. Will this just end up another dream of mine, shattered? This is where it gets complicated, Anne.
I pat my face dry as best I can, then head to the kitchen, where Posey is sitting eating her breakfast. I smile when I see her.
She’s at the side of the dinette where she has a clear view of the TV. One of her favorite shows is on, and she’s engrossed. She has a bowl of dry cereal in front of her and a cup of milk next to that. It’s easier for her to eat cereal this way rather than attempt using a spoon. I watch as—never taking her eyes off the TV—she bends down with her tongue out. When her little wet tongue touches the puff of dry cocoa cereal, it sticks, and she pulls it into her mouth, crunching happily. She eats the whole bowl this way, stopping every few puffs to sip her milk from a bendy straw.
It’s so unbearably cute, I pull my phone out and get a few seconds of her on video.
God, please don’t take her from me, I pray without even thinking. It’s selfish, I know. I should be praying for Posey’s best interest—whether that be me or this aunt of hers. Maybe her great aunt could give her things and opportunities that I could not.
At the moment, though, I don’t care. Posey has found her way into my heart in a way I didn’t think was possible for a child I didn’t give birth to. I couldn’t imagine loving her any more if I had. How could I possibly say goodbye to her if this is the Lord’s will for her?
I swallow back a lump forming in my throat, and I put on my best cheery voice. “Well, sweetheart, are you almost finished? We need to get to Aunt Billie’s house so I’m not late for work today.”
“Yep,” Posey says, confirming it when I hear the last drops of milk gurgle through the straw. Then, when she stands from the table, she looks at me. “Did you cry today, Anne?”
My eyes must be red still. Kids miss nothing.
“Oh.” I wave it off as if it’s nothing. But I want to be truthful. “A little,” I admit. “But I’m good now.”
Thankfully, this answer satisfies Posey and she doesn’t press or ask why. “Okay,” she says, and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
I let out a sigh and pull out my phone to text Prescott.
Hey. Do you want to meet for lunch today? I really need to see you.
I stuff the phone in my back pocket as I wait for a reply. I put my shoes on and grab my purse. My phone dings in my pocket as Posey is coming out of the bathroom.
Prescott: Yeah, of course. You have a place in mind?
I smile as I text back with a time and place to meet. Then Posey and I head out the door.
* * *
I let Ben know I’m going to be out of the store for lunch. He tells me to take my time, as there’s no rush to be back. I think he knows something is bothering me. He’s been extra quiet today, giving me my space. I appreciate it. There’s so much to think about and pray about as I’m working.
I get to the little Coney Island restaurant before Prescott, so I choose a table and order our food. We always get the same thing when we come here—two Coney dogs and a chili fry to split. The waitress is bringing our Cokes as Prescott walks in and joins me.
He slides into the booth and takes one look at me before saying, “What’s wrong, Anne?”
I give a humorless chuckle. “You know me so well.”
He smiles and reaches out with his right hand to grab my left across the table. “I guess I do.”
“Prescott.” I need to get right to the point. “I might lose Posey.”
Letting go of my hand, Prescott sits back in the booth like I just shoved him. “What? What happened?”
I proceed to tell him all the details of this morning’s phone call. He listens, nodding occasionally with his brow furrowed, processing what I’m telling him.
“I just—” I begin, trying to keep the tears from forming in my already-burning eyes. “I don’t think Posey will be happy.”
“Well, yeah,” Prescott agrees. “She doesn’t even know this great-aunt. Has never met her.”
“Exactly!”
The waitress appears with our food and asks if we need anything else. We thank her and tell her we’re good for now. Prescott prays and digs right in.
“Gosh, how scary to think she can just be passed along to another stranger.” I stare at my Coney dog and poke at it with my fork. “And,” I add softly, “I love her already. I don’t want to lose her.”
Prescott wipes at his mouth with his napkin, and I realize for the first time that he’s starting to look more at ease with doing things one-handed. I feel a little twinge of warmth at the thought.
“I know you do,” he says before taking another bite. “I’ve known since the moment I saw you two together.”
I watch him chew and finally give in to my watering eyes.
“Hey,” he says after swallowing. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll work out. You know that, right?” He reaches over and gently swipes the tear off my cheek.
I give a small, humorless laugh. “Look at you, giving my pep talks right back to me.”
He laughs. “You have no idea. There were times that I hated the words you said to me. I wanted to tell you to stop.”
I blink, looking up at him. “Really?”
He looks a bit sheepish. “Really. Sometimes it felt way easier to just let the anger consume me. It almost felt good. I didn’t want to hear that things would get better—I just wanted to bask in my self-pity.” He takes another bite, chewing and swallowing before going on. “It’s like…” he looks thoughtful for a second. “It’s like you feel like it will never be better, but you’re supposed to pretend it is. As if you can’t imagine ever being okay with your situation, but everyone is telling you you will be. So, in some weird, twisted way, you think that means that eventually, you’ll just come to terms with living the rest of your life in a state of misery, and somehow be happy about it. And when your brain can’t make sense of it, you want to just… shut it off. You know?”
I nod. “Yes, actually. I think I know exactly what you’re saying.”
“But then, when you really decide to trust God and let Him begin the healing process, you realize you’re not meant to live miserably in acceptance. God can restore your joy and even help you see your life in a completely new way.”
I’m pretty sure I look a little stunned at the moment, and I close my mouth when I realize it’s been hanging open slightly for the last few seconds.
He goes on. “So, what I’m saying is, keep trusting God that He’ll let Posey’s process turn out exactly how it’s supposed to. And even if it hurts, there really is joy after the heartbreak.”
I stare back down at my untouched food, processing what he said. It wasn’t the most eloquent of speeches, but I understand exactly what he’s trying to tell me. I realize he’s not promising me that it will all work out how I want it to—he’s telling me that no matter the outcome, there’s life and joy if I allow God to get me through it. Even if I lose a part of me I think I can’t live without. Just like he did.
I look up. “Thank you.”
He shrugs.
“No, Prescott. I mean it. Thank you.” I lean back in my seat. “It wasn’t what I expected to hear. But it was what I needed to hear. It makes perfect sense.”
He smiles, and I’m immediately reminded of the first time I met him in person, when that smile nearly made my heart stop. It was one of the first things I saw, and I could hardly focus on anything else. And now, sitting here, seeing that smile, I feel like I have that Prescott with me for the first time since the accident.
“Growing up,” I begin, “I always had this mental map of how my life would play out, you know? I believed in fairy tales. I always felt like I was secretly in one.” I laugh, looking down, a little embarrassed. “I just knew I’d meet the man of my dreams, marry, have two perfect children…” I let my voice trail off, knowing he gets the gist. “Meeting you literally felt like a chapter in my fairy tale. That first phone call, the ball, my dress—everything. Even when you left for a year, I started imagining our perfect life together when you got back.”
I look up, and Prescott is smiling sadly. I pop a chili fry into my mouth and chew before continuing. “I’ve been wanting to foster for years, and once I met you, I put it on hold, thinking it was something we could do together. We’d have our perfect little family with both natural and adopted children. We’d get a dog, have a nice yard.” I laugh. “All that stuff that I thought made for a perfect life.”
