Chapter 27

Emma couldn’t get comfortable. She tossed and turned on her bed even as Aunt Karen’s words tumbled over each other in her mind.

“Are you really going to work out everything for my good, God?” she whispered.

All of the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

She felt God reaching out to her now, just as Aubrey had said He would. Stretching and rolling over, she resolved to make a decision soon. She’d look into what was required to become a Christian, maybe make an appointment with Pastor Nathan.

Today is the day of salvation.

The words that filled her mind felt vaguely familiar, probably from a sermon she’d long forgotten.

Today.

She felt an urgency bordering on agitation.

“Okay. I give up.”

She slid out of bed and knelt on the floor. Even though there was no one to see her, she was thankful for the darkness. She took a deep breath, laying her forehead on the plush carpet.

“I’m not sure how to do this, God. I’m still confused, and a little mad at you. But I believe…” A sob caught in her throat, and tears soaked the carpet. “I believe that you love me. I don’t know why, but I’m glad you do. I can’t do this by myself anymore. I’ve never felt so alone.”

She sat up, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, and blew her nose noisily. Scooting backward, she pressed her back against the wall and rested her elbows on her bent knees.

“So, anyway… I know I’m a sinner, and I need you to forgive me. Please be my savior. Please make me beautiful. And help me forgive myself about Rachel. And Joe. And… Amen.”

Still sniffling, she laughed out loud. She knew she had a lot to learn, but that didn’t scare her. As she settled back into bed and surrendered to sleep, the most wondrous peace settled over her.

***

The peace stayed with her all through the next day. Her grief was still there, and she still missed Joe, but she no longer felt alone.

After work, she picked up the phone to call Aubrey but then set it back in its cradle. For some reason, she wanted to savor her secret a little longer.

But when she saw her at Pilates two days later, she couldn’t contain the news.

“I gave my heart to Jesus,” she whispered.

“What? That’s… awesome. Wonderful!” When the other three women turned to see what he commotion was, Aubrey lowered her voice a little. “So how did it happen? Where were you? Why didn’t you call me?”

Emma laughed. She started to tell her about Aunt Karen’s call, but just then Katie turned on the music. “We’ll start standing, ladies.”

“Go for ice cream after?” Aubrey mouthed. Emma nodded and then obediently folded her body forward, letting her head and shoulders dangle.

***

Emma was still hurrying across the uneven ground, watching her step to keep from twisting an ankle, when the whistle blew signaling the start of the season’s first soccer game. Andrew had ridden to the game with his friend Sam, and Emma had lost track of time at home, cleaning the house from top to bottom.

Arriving at the metal risers, she glanced up into the full rows and sighed. She’d have to push her way in or sit on the ground.

An attractive man on the front row waved tentatively, catching her eye. She gasped and forgot all about the game she was missing. It was Joe!

Her hand flew to her hair and then to her face. If only she’d put on her cute jeans and taken more time with her makeup. Of course Joe would be here; he’d come back into town yesterday.

A man to her right cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows pointedly. She was blocking his view.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, feeling the blood rush to her face as she took a couple of steps forward and blocked another man’s view. She looked over at Joe, questioning him with her eyes.

He shrugged and scooted over, making a space for her. She hurried over and sank onto the metal bench.

“Thanks. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” he said, keeping his eyes on the field. “Andrew’s on offense.”

Humiliation washed over her. Joe was here to cheer for Andrew, not chat with her. She made herself at least look in the right direction, even as the familiar scent of Joe’s cologne quickened her pulse.

Andrew’s grin when he spotted them together brought a stab of regret. Please, God. Help us work this out. We can’t keep hurting Andrew.

Andrew’s game turned at that moment, as if he were determined to make them proud. Where normally he hung back and waited for the perfect opportunity to present itself, now he was pushing past the opposition and carrying the ball to the other end.

“Yes!” Emma shouted, leaping to her feet alongside Joe. “Go, Andrew!”

Just as Andrew was approaching the goal, the whistle blew, ending the half. Joe whistled. “Looks like this might be Andrew’s season at last.”

Emma turned to face him. “That’s our boy,” she said, looking down when she felt her color rising. Everything she wanted to say to Joe swirled in her mind. I’m so sorry. Can’t we start over? Let me make it up to you…. Oh, God. Please help me.

The peace she’d found on her bedroom floor settled over her again. “It’s good to see you,” she said, raising her eyes to Joe’s face.

He gave a forced smile and looked away.

The whistle for the second half delivered her from the awkward silence. Andrew sat on the sideline drinking Gatorade. She could feel his eyes on them. She fought to smile and clap at all the appropriate moments, despite the continual awareness of Joe’s warm thigh just brushing hers. Did he feel the buzz, and the ache, too?

She stole a glance at him from beneath her lashes and saw his jaw clenching and releasing. He was definitely struggling with some emotion, but which one?

When Joe jumped up, she realized Andrew was on the field again, and had the ball. “Go Andrew! Shoot!” she screamed. He kicked from the corner—blocked. 

“Oh,” she groaned.

But Andrew got the ball on the rebound and shot again, lofting it over the goalie’s shoulder. Goal.

Emma jumped up and down and yelled herself hoarse, clapping until her hands hurt. When she’d stopped jumping, she pulled Joe into a hug. She gave him an extra squeeze when she felt him letting go. “That’s our boy,” she repeated. Joe said nothing, but his grin was the widest she remembered since he’d moved out.

She watched intently for the rest of the game, but Andrew had no more scoring chances. Maybe his motivation had been just to make his parents hug. She hoped he’d seen them.

While they waited for Andrew to finish all his high fives and back slaps, she turned to Joe and touched his arm. She pretended not to notice when he flinched, just as she had shrunk from his touches so many times.

She swallowed hard, focusing on his eyes and ignoring the spectators who streamed past. “Joe, I know you waited a long time for me to want you. And I know I’ve hurt you terribly.”

He took a step backward, bumping into the bleacher. He shook his head, but she held up her hand to stop him from speaking.

“Please. What I’m trying to say is that I do want you. I understand that you’re not ready to trust me. I deserve that. I just want you to know I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.”

Just as Joe opened his mouth to answer, Andrew bounded up. “Did you see my goal? Wasn’t it epic?”

“Yes!” they both replied.

“Can we go for ice cream to celebrate?”

Joe looked at Emma, who nodded. This would be her second ice cream celebration of the day, but who was counting?

At the ice cream shop—real ice cream this time, not frozen yogurt—Emma looked around at the other families. She could almost imagine they were still a family, that Andrew’s excitement was just over ice cream and soccer.

When Andrew raced to the restroom with a teammate, she tried to imagine she and Joe were on a date, back in college at the coffee shop. Joe’s expression was softer, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

“You’re different,” he said quietly.

“Yes. I am.” She wanted to tell him about finding God, but this felt like the wrong time and place. Fluttering her lashes just a little, she said, “Maybe you should get to know me again and see how I’ve changed.”

He held her gaze for several breaths. “We’ll see.”

She pursed her lips in a bashful smile. Andrew returned then, saving her from thinking up a reply.

“Ready to go?” Joe asked.

“Can I finish your ice cream, Mom?”

She handed over her peanut butter ice cream with chocolate chips and banana slices, which she’d barely touched.

She savored the sweet taste of Joe’s gaze all the way home.

***

After church the next day, Emma stopped by the hardware to pick up a couple flats of fall asters and a length of metal fence that she hoped would keep Trixie out of her garden. Now that her house was back in order, it was time to tackle the garden.

She knelt on the damp earth and uprooted what was left of her pathetic marigolds while Trixie looked on. “You’d better leave these new flowers alone, you big oaf,” she said with as much sternness as she could muster.

Trixie eyed the purple blooms and licked her chops.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Next Emma pulled every weed that had encroached on her flowerbed. On the toughest ones, she had to use a three-pronged fork to wrest the corkscrew roots from the soil. When she’d yanked the last invader out, she grunted with satisfaction. She’d always enjoyed this sense of restoring order and setting the world right, but now defeating the weeds felt even more momentous. Out with the old.

She dug one hole at a time, cradling each root ball and easing the flowers into their hollows. After she’d mounded the dirt up around the last plant, she pushed herself stiffly to her feet to survey her work.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she said to the seemingly fragile flowers. She pictured their sturdy roots working down into the rich soil, new blooms opening in the autumn sun.

The garden was pretty now, but she knew it would be glorious soon. Just like my life. It’s going to be beautiful.

She looked up at the sky and laughed for joy. And then she closed her eyes, throwing her arms open wide, and turned in a slow circle.  

THE END

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