As You Wish (31 page)

“God has changed me, and I know He is always with me. All the time. And I'm learning to trust Him more for all the details.” She paused a second, then added, “All the decisions of my life.”

The “decisions” part hadn't been in what she originally wrote out, but it was true.

“I decided to be baptized as a way of, first of all, agreeing
with my parents' direction in my life when they had me baptized as a baby.” Christy made eye contact with her mom. Mom's smile gave Christy all the assurance she needed to know that this was the right decision.

She noticed Aunt Marti sitting next to her mom. Christy hadn't expected her aunt to come.

As she finished her little speech, Christy kept her gaze on Aunt Marti. “The second reason I'm getting baptized is because I see it as an act of obedience. Like those verses Pastor John just quoted. We are commanded by God to turn from living to please ourselves, to come wholeheartedly to God so that we can live the life He has designed for us.”

Feeling a burst of boldness, Christy added something else that wasn't in her original notes. “It's like God is the Potter, and we are the clay. He doesn't want us to run off and try to make ourselves into something we weren't created to be. He wants us to stay on His potter's wheel even when we get dizzy sometimes, spinning around and being squeezed and reshaped. He's the One who created us. He knows how to make us into our own person. Or actually, into His own person. The person we were meant to be. He wants us to stay on the wheel so He can shape us with His hands.” Christy paused and then added with a final breath, “With His nail-scarred hands.”

She realized that everything she had just said was unplanned and that her aunt probably would be upset. But Christy felt clean. Clean and ready to publicly identify with Christ's burial and resurrection by being submerged under the water and coming up new.

Pastor John quietly asked Christy to fold her hands in front of her. She did and she closed her eyes.

Pastor John's deep voice washed over her as he said the words from Scripture, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I now baptize you, Christina Juliet Miller.”

She felt herself being lowered backward by strong hands until her entire body, hair, face, everything, was submerged. For an instant, everything was silent. Dead.

Then those same strong hands pulled her from the water. A rousing burst of applause from the congregation met her as she came back to the land of the living. As she emerged, water dripping everywhere, an unexpected giggle tickled its way from her closed lips.

“Go in peace,” the pastor exhorted her. “For Christ Jesus, the Lord of your life, will be with you always.”

18
Aunt Marti didn't make a scene about Christy's sermon from the baptismal pool. She didn't acknowledge any of it until that Thursday when the extended family was gathered at Christy's parents' house for Thanksgiving.

Christy and Todd had arrived in Escondido Wednesday night, and both of them had helped Christy's mom make pies. The methods of the three cooks were all different, and the kitchen was small. The four-hour pie-making adventure provided constant laughter and one unauthorized fight between Todd and Christy with small handfuls of flour. But it was enough to put Christy's mom into a cleaning frenzy.

When the pies were presented at the end of Thanksgiving dinner, Todd and Christy playfully boasted about their combined efforts. Mom set the record straight by saying that Christy and Todd had gotten a little too creative with the spices in the pumpkin pie. She suggested that if anyone was interested in a milder dessert, the apple pie she had made would be a good choice.

“Christy does tend to get creative and spice things up, doesn't she?” Marti said. She had been quiet most of the
dinner. When she did talk, it was to Todd's dad, who was seated on her right.

Christy took Marti's comment to mean the baptismal message.

“Who wants what?” Mom asked, ignoring her sister's comment. Christy guessed her mom had done that most of her life.

“Did you make mincemeat?” Dad asked.

Christy smiled. He asked that every year. Every Thanksgiving for the past twenty-some years, Mom made one mincemeat pie. And every year, Dad was the only one who ate any of that pie. Yet he still asked, as if maybe she had forgotten this year.

“Mincemeat?” Todd's dad asked. “I'll take mincemeat, if you have it.”

“You take yours warmed with vanilla ice cream, Bryan?” Christy's dad asked.

“Is there any other way?” Todd's dad said with a smile.

Christy went to help Mom slice the pies. She was grinning to herself at the way her dad had just bonded with Todd's dad over mincemeat pie.

Whatever it takes!

She wondered what it would take now for Todd to ask her to become his wife. All he had to do was slip into the kitchen, come up behind her, put his arms around her, and whisper in her ear, “How would you like it if we made Thanksgiving pies together for the rest of our lives?”

Christy daydreamed how she would answer with something witty like, “As long as we always keep it spicy.”

Or maybe something sweet and mushy would be better, like, “You know I'll always be your punkin.”

“Christy?”

She turned to see her mom watching her with concern. Christy had frozen in her daydream with the knife halfway suspended over the first pie.

“I was just, ah, trying to decide how many pieces to cut.”

“It doesn't matter. We have plenty. Would you put these two mincemeat pieces in the microwave?”

“Sure.” Christy turned from her mom, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks.

When will I become old enough to stop this crazy blushing? I could understand it when I was fifteen. Or even eighteen. But I'm twenty years old. I'm a woman about to promise herself to a man, and I still blush like a little girl.

Christy wondered if Todd struggled with feelings of shyness. Perhaps that was why he hadn't proposed yet.

After they had eaten pie, Uncle Bob insisted they all gather in the living room so he could take a group picture. He had a remote switch on his camera that allowed him to place the camera on a kitchen chair.

Mom, Marti, Dad, and Todd's dad all squashed themselves together on the couch. David plopped in the middle of the floor in front of the couch. That left openings on either side of David. Christy sat on the right, in front of her mom, and Todd sat in front of his dad on the left side.

To Christy's surprise, David, the nondemonstrative child, put his long arms around Todd's and Christy's necks and let his appendages hang there like thick gray octopus tentacles.

“Everyone say ‘hey!' ” Bob positioned himself on the couch's arm and leaned over next to Marti.

“I thought we were supposed to say ‘cheese,' ” David said. Christy noticed that his voice was changing. It
sounded especially funny since she was so close to him.

“Try saying ‘hey' this time,” Bob said. “It makes for a more natural smile than a stiff ‘cheese.' ”

“A stiff cheese!” David repeated and burst out laughing.

Todd and Christy turned their faces toward each other under the mutual lock of their guffawing octopus jailer. They exchanged a look that said, “Oh, brother, tell me we weren't like that when we were his age.”

Just then the camera flash went off.

“Take another one,” Marti cried. “I had my eyes closed.”

Christy and Todd turned back to the positioned camera.

“On the count of three,” Bob said. “One, two, three!”

A merry chorus of “Hey!” rose from the couch, and the picture was snapped.

“Now just Todd and Bryan,” Bob said, getting into his role of family photo historian. “Why don't you two use this chair here? Let me put you over by the window so I get better light. Bryan, why don't you sit, and, Todd, you stand behind him.”

Everyone watched while the father and son took their positions. Christy noticed how much the two resembled each other, and she felt a warmth rush through her.

Wow, Todd, if you look like that twenty-five years from now, I will be a happy woman! What am I saying? I'd be happy with you twenty-five years from now no matter what. But if you turn out like your dad . . .

Christy casually glanced at her mom. She was at least three or maybe four inches shorter than Christy and had a round figure. Her face was round, her body was round. Her hair had gone almost completely gray, and she hadn't colored it or changed the short style. Christy's mom didn't use makeup. She was a simple, uncomplicated, reserved, honest
woman. And Christy always admired her for that.

But I hope my looks turn out a little more like Aunt Marti's. Not with the hair extensions or any of that. I just want to keep myself looking appealing to Todd. At least I have some height from my dad's side. Hopefully I'll be able to keep my weight down.

Christy had a feeling that just trying to keep up with Todd for the next twenty-five years would be a thorough workout.

“Okay, that's good.” Bob adjusted the camera. “Todd, how about if you put your hand on your dad's shoulder? Yes, like that.”

Christy noticed that Todd appeared slightly self-conscious about his hands ever since the stitches had been removed. Both his hands were covered with dashes of white scar tissue where the glass had sliced his flesh. He placed his hand on his dad's shoulder but turned the top of his hand away from the camera so the scars wouldn't show.

For the first time, Christy thought how blessed Todd was that none of the glass had cut his face or throat. Uncle Bob had been severely burned on his neck and left ear several years ago. Christy had gotten so used to how he looked after he healed up that she didn't even notice it anymore. It made her wonder if Marti, who spent her life striving for perfection, found it hard to accept Bob's scars.

Your scars are beautiful to me, Todd. They always will be evidence that you could have died, but God kept you here for a reason. For me. For us. For whatever we do together to further His kingdom.

“Terrific.” Bob took the third snapshot of Todd and Bryan Spencer. He proceeded to take shots of Christy's family and then five shots of Todd and Christy together.

“Hey!” Christy said, following Bob's advice for a natural smile.

“Hey yourself, pumpkin pie breath,” Todd teased her.

“Are you saying the pie turned out too spicy?”

“I think we should keep the double cinnamon next year but leave out the cloves.”

“As you wish,” Christy whispered.

Bob snapped a final shot, and his camera began to rewind. “End of the roll,” he said.

Christy glanced over and noticed that everyone was still watching her and Todd as they engaged in their snappy exchange.

Marti came closer with a knowing smirk on her face. “Those will make perfect photos for the newspaper announcement.”

“What newspaper announcement?” Todd asked.

Marti raised an eyebrow slightly to Christy. Christy didn't need any hints. She knew what her aunt was getting at. The society section of Marti's local newspaper ran engagement announcements complete with the couples' photos. Christy didn't spell it out for Todd.

And Todd didn't spell out any kind of proposal to her that Thanksgiving weekend. Christy thought she was okay with that. Her dreams weren't dashed. A little postponed, perhaps.

It didn't really bother her until she was back at Rancho on Monday, and Sierra came into the bookstore to see her. Sierra was bubbling over with news about her sister's wedding that weekend. Tawni and Jeremy had gotten married at Paul's church in San Diego, where Jeremy and Paul's dad was the pastor. Sierra made an exaggeratedly gruesome face when she described the frilly, mint green bridesmaid dress she was forced to wear. The two friends made plans to meet at The Java Jungle after Christy's class that night so she
could hear the rest of the details.

After Sierra left the bookstore, Christy did a little math. Doug and Tracy had been married now for a year and a half. Tawni and Jeremy had met the week that Doug and Tracy got engaged. Katie told her last night about a girl on their floor who had met a guy the first week of classes, and they had gotten married over Thanksgiving break.

Why is everyone else getting married, but Todd and I aren't even engaged? How slow is Todd going to be? He's not waiting for me to say something, is he? No, he would want to be the one to officially do the proposing. So what is he waiting for?

Christy found it easy to come up with a half dozen logical explanations. School and money were at the top of the list. She tried to put it all out of her mind and work hard to complete the class assignments that needed to be turned in before Christmas break. Her only time to study was in between work and classes. Long ago she had discovered that she wasn't a night owl like Katie. Christy reserved her evenings for taking long walks around campus with Todd or for meeting friends to laugh and talk in The Java Jungle.