Blue Like Elvis (6 page)

Chapter 8

Tucker called
later that evening. We only talked a few minutes. Apparently one of his friends
had a family emergency come up and Tuck was going to have to cover his shift
for him the next night. Which meant he wouldn’t be able to make it to Bible
study. Which meant I wouldn’t be going either.

After I hung up, I
uttered a quick prayer of thanks for that resident’s family emergency.

Then I uttered a
quick prayer for forgiveness for thanking God for that resident’s family
emergency.

I decided to go
downstairs and watch some TV, but as I left my room, I could hear Sandra crying
in her bedroom. I tapped on her door. “You okay?”

She was sitting in
bed with a book on her lap, her face buried in her hands. She mumbled something
in Spanish as I took a seat at the foot of her bed. “Sandra, what’s wrong? What’s
the matter?”

She wiped her face
with the edge of her bedsheet, sighing and carrying on and on. I braced myself,
trying to figure out what in the world could have happened in the ten minutes I
was on the phone with Tucker.

“It’s just . . .
it’s just . . . oh, it’s just so sad. I can’t bear it.”

Someone must have
died. A family member back in Puerto Rico? Sandra was the only member of her
family who lived in the states. She’d come to America to go to college,
graduating from Mississippi College, a Baptist women’s school not far from
Memphis. I’d had trouble imagining my spunky little roommate at a women-only
school. She was so high-spirited and expressive—and oh, how she loved to flirt.
She took the art to a whole new level. I couldn’t even begin to imagine her
towing the line at a small Baptist college with no male students.

“Sandra, did
someone die?” I asked quietly.

She shot me the
strangest look. “What?”

“I mean, you’re obviously
upset and crying and—”

Her mouth formed a
long, oval “O” just before she broke out laughing. “No!” she said, sucking in
air between her guffaws. “No! It’s Anna Karenina! She’s in this impossible
situation, and she’s pregnant with the count’s son but her husband refuses to
give her a divorce and warns her if she leaves him, she’ll never see their son
Seryozha again. Then the count’s horse falls, throwing the count off, and the
horse has to be shot and . . . and it’s all so terribly tragic,
I can hardly bear to read another word.” Sandra blubbered through the woeful
tale, hardly taking a breath as she rambled on.

I swatted her leg
and rolled my eyes. “Don’t do that to me! I thought something bad had happened.”

“It did! I just told
you! Anna is in this impossible situation and—”

“Well, don’t let
me interrupt.” I stood up and headed toward the door. “I wouldn’t want to
intrude on your heartache.”

“Oh, stop,” she
teased, still cackling. “I can’t help it. It’s the most beautiful love story. Hey,
I’m starving. Want to go to Frankie’s for some fried pepper rings?”

Sandra could switch
gears faster than anyone I knew. I loved that about her.

“Be still my
heart,” I quipped, dashing to my room to find my flip flops. “Do they have
fried green tomatoes too?”

“To die for!” she
yelled. “In fact, we’ll get the Fried Sampler Plate and try them all!”

I could feel the
fat jumping on my thighs with the mere thought of it, but that didn’t slow me
down. Less than fifteen minutes later, we were sitting in a booth at the cozy
pub. We placed our order and sipped our drinks while we waited.

“I’m pretty sure
the waitress was smirking when we ordered these diet drinks with that plate of
fried veggies,” I noted.

“Yes, but did you
see her?” Sandra whispered. “She hardly has room to talk. How many chins did
she have? Three? Four? I lost count.”

I flicked her
wrist. “Stop! That’s so mean. We’re in no position to make snarky remarks about
someone else’s weight issues. Well, at least not me. How is it that you eat so
much and never gain an ounce?”

She took a sip of
her Tab and sat back. “Don’t I wish. I’ve got to start running again now that
the weather’s so nice. I’ve gained half a pound since Christmas.”

“Half a pound?” I
scoffed. “Please. I gain half a pound just
thinking
about food.”

“So we should
start getting some exercise. Do you play racquetball?”

“Love it. I played
all the time in college.”

“Great. I’ll get
us a court time. They have four courts at your church, you know.”

“
My
church?
I don’t have a church here.”

“Okay, fine,
whatever. First Baptist. Didn’t you go there Sunday with your friends?”

“Well, yes, but it’s
not
my
church.”

Sandra pursed her
lips. “Well, it’s not mine either, but I play racquetball there all the time. I
also have dinner there on Wednesday nights. Best deal in town. Only $3 for a
full-course dinner including beverage and dessert. Lots of the girls in the
office go.”

“You’re kidding
me. Just for the food?”

“No, silly.
Several of them attend church there, but there are a few of us who just come
for the bennies.”

“Bennies?” I
asked.

“Benefits. Oh,
here we are!” The waitress placed an enormous platter in the center of the
table. “Get a load of these babies!”

It was easily the
biggest appetizer platter I’d ever seen. But I had a feeling we’d make a
serious dent in it. Fried green and red pepper strips, fried green tomatoes,
fried mushrooms, fried pickles . . . all surrounding a small
bowl of buttermilk dipping sauce. Heaven!

Once we got past
the initial moaning over the delectable flavors, we continued our conversation.

“So, Wednesday
after work,” Sandra began, wiping her mouth with her napkin, “we can just go
straight from the hospital to the church. They start serving at 5:00. You’ll
love it. We fill up a whole table. Well, not just girls from work. Some of the
singles too.”

Uh oh.
I
wondered if Tucker and Cassie were Wednesday night regulars.

“Wait, I just
remembered,” I said. “I have a 4:15 appointment with Dr. Love.”

Her brows arched
up her face. “Dr. J. Thomas Love? The pastor?”

I felt my face
warm. “Well, yeah, I met him on Sunday and . . . it turns out he
knows my dad and wanted me to stop by and say hello.” I said that last part a
little too fast.
Well, it’s true. All of it. No reason to tell her more,
right?

“Oh,” she said,
clearly perplexed. “That’s fine. You can just come downstairs and join us when
you’re done.”

I dragged another
pepper strip through the dressing, eager to change the subject. “Tell me how
you ended up in Memphis, of all places. You were born in San Juan, right?”

“Born and raised.
I have two brothers and three sisters, all younger than me. They’re all still
there with Mama and Papa. My father has a sugar cane farm. He does very well.
At least by Puerto Rican standards, anyway. But when I was about to graduate
from high school, he told me he wanted me to come to the states to go to
college. He had ambitions for his children, particularly his girls.”

“How did you know
which school to go to?”

“We had some good
friends who were missionaries in San Juan. They were originally from
Mississippi and spoke so lovingly of it, I knew it’s where I wanted to go. In
fact, Aileen was an MC grad, so I never really considered going anywhere else.”

“Mississippi
College. But it’s a girls’ school. I’m still having trouble visualizing you in
a girls’ school.”

She laughed. “I
know! I don’t exactly fit the profile, do I? But it was really an easy
decision. Papa said I’d either go to a girls’ school or not at all. He had
ambitions for me, but he’s also very, very protective.”

I tried to picture
this man, wondering what he was like. I’d seen a few photographs in Sandra’s
room, but hadn’t paid close attention. “Is he short like you? Your father?” I
asked.

“Who says I’m
short?” she barked. “Back home, I’m not short. Papa, he is much taller than I
am. At least 5’5”. But every inch of it muscle and determination.”

“That explains a
lot. And your mother?”

Sandra’s smiled
widened. “Ah, mi madre. As wide as she is tall with a heart to match. Oh my
goodness, can she cook. Someday I should take you home with me. Just so you can
taste her tamales. She’s known for them. Famous. Oh, what I would give to have one
of those right now.”

I tossed my napkin
on my plate. “How can you even think of food right now? I’m so full, I can
hardly breathe.”

She forked another
green tomato. “That would be fun—you coming home with me sometime. We’ll have
to do that one of these days.”

“I’d like that. I
really would,” I said, trying not to belch.

“Ah, then you’d
get to meet Pedro . . .” she teased, her eyes waggling mischievously
as she chewed.

“Pedro? Is he one
of your brothers?”

She cackled again,
high and loud. “No! Pedro is my boy.
My man.
El amor de mi vida.
”

“Your boyfriend?”

She shook her
head, her dark curls bouncing wildly. “No, no, no. Pedro is not my boyfriend.
Pedro is my parrot.”

Now it was my turn
to laugh. I’d been envisioning some dark, handsome young man, suitable for my
little friend here. “Your
parrot
?”

“Oh, he’s
gorgeous, my Pedro. He’s a Yellow Headed Amazon. Smart as a whip. Next time I
call home, I’ll let you talk to him.”

“He
talks
?”

“Good heavens, he
talks more than I do. Never shuts up until we cover his cage at night.”

“You mean he just
carries on conversations, like you or me?”

She took a long
sip of her Tab. “Oh, you should hear him. He’ll ask about your day, ask you
what time it is, tell you how beautiful you are—I taught him that one, of
course.”

You would have
thought she was talking about her firstborn child the way her face beamed with
pride. Then again, you’d rarely see her without a smile lighting up her face
and those dark lashes accenting eyes that rarely stopped dancing.

“I’ll show you
pictures when we get back to the townhouse. He’s ridiculously handsome, but he
knows it too.”

“Is it hard
teaching a parrot to talk?” I asked, pushing my plate aside.

“Not at all. You
just start early, and never let an opportunity pass without talking to him.
Tell him what you’re doing, what you’re feeding him, where you’re going, that
sort of thing. Eventually he starts mimicking you. It’s hilarious. Of course,
at first it just sounds like babble. Then gradually it gets more distinct. He’s
quite brilliant, if I say so myself.”

“Has he ever
embarrassed you? Said something you weren’t expecting in front of someone else?”

She laughed again.
“Oh my goodness, yes. But the funniest is when he flirts.”

“Gee, I wonder
where he learned that?”

“Not from my
brother Carlos, that’s for sure. Carlos taught him all kinds of dirty stuff.
Well, not dirty like obscene, so much. More suggestive, but silly, you know
what I mean?”

“Like what?”

“Like, when one of
Carlos’ girlfriends visits, Pedro will ask her what color undies she’s wearing.”

I almost fell off
my chair. “No!”

“Or he’ll pester
them saying, ‘What yo’ number? What yo’ number?’ Then, ‘Dump the loser, call me!
Dump the loser, call me!’”

I couldn’t stop
laughing, as much at her imitation of Pedro as his antics.

 “And if he’s
really
feeling bold, he’ll say, ‘One on the lips. One on the lips. Dump the loser, one
on the lips!’ Sometimes we laugh so hard we need oxygen.”

She ordered
another Tab and told me more of Pedro’s adventures and boisterous vocabulary. I
was about ready to ask for a canister of oxygen myself. Finally we left our
fried heaven and made our way home, sufficiently covered with grease and aching
from so much laughter.

We climbed in my
loaner and headed home.

Sandra rubbed her
hands together. “Next time I’ll tell you about Pedro’s secret mission. You see,
he’s actually my secret weapon . . .”

Chapter 9

Wednesday, as soon
as we got off work, Sandra and I drove the short distance to First Baptist. She
was planning to camp out in the library since she was on the hunt for a book
she’d been trying to find. I made my way down to the church offices where I
told the receptionist I had an appointment with Dr. Love. She introduced
herself as Dorothea Foster. I think? I’m pretty sure I counted fourteen
syllables in her first name alone. Thickest Southern drawl I’d ever heard.

“He-uhll be raughhht
wee-uth you, Shehhhlby,” she said.

I pressed my lips
together to hide my smile, then thanked her.

“Juhhst hayuv uh sea-uht
ovah thayah on the sohhfah,” she said with a wink.

I took-my-seat-on-the-sofa,
wondering how in the world different dialects came to be. I loved a good
Southern accent, but sometimes it felt like you needed waders just to tip-toe
through the pronunciation. I often thought many of them were affected and
put-on. It was a common practice for some of the girls I’d known growing up in
Birmingham. And Samford had more than its share of accents with a side of
thick. But I had no doubt that the delightful melody accompanying
Dorothea’s
greeting was 100 percent the real deal.

Less than a couple
minutes later, Dr. Love welcomed me into his office. The comforting scent of
cigar lingered in the well-appointed room. Instead of sitting behind his large desk,
he came around to sit across from me in two face-to-face leather wingback chairs.

“Well, I must say,
it’s a delight to see you again, Miss Colter.”

“Please, call me
Shelby.”

“Oh, I’ll try but
my dear mother, God rest her soul, always taught me to show a lady respect. And
old habits die hard, but we’ll see. So tell me, how are you today?”

He was so kind, so
genuine. His face, wrinkled in all the right places from a life obviously
filled with laughter and smiles. His head still graced with thick white wavy hair.
His pale blue eyes, warm and endearing. He seemed relaxed and ready to listen,
as if we had all the time in the world.

He asked all the
right questions, putting me immediately at ease, not rushing into any sensitive
areas. And yet, once we began chatting, I seemed to have no trouble traveling
down those paths with him. I told him about Will, about our relationship, and
our plans to live abroad as he made a career with the Navy. I told him how hard
I’d fallen for Will and how much I had loved him.

“However, you
couldn’t marry him,” he interjected, as if making a statement we both
understood.

I looked down at
my skirt, running my fingernail along the pleat. “No, I couldn’t. I thought I
could. I wanted to. Well, at least I thought I did.”

“What was it about
your romantic young sailor that made you change your mind?” he asked, resting
his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together.

“Dr. Love, I hate
to take up too much of your time like this. It’s no big deal.”

“First of all,
you’re not taking my time. You made the appointment. This is
your
time.
And second, if it’s no big deal, then where did those tears I saw Sunday come
from? I doubt you were just overly excited about our lovely library.”

“No, of course
not. But I—”

“Miss Colter, I knew
your daddy well. He’s a good man. And your mother is as sweet as they come. I
know you come from good stock. Solid folk. So maybe I’m going out on a limb
here, but could it be your sailor wasn’t all you wished for deep in your heart?
Is it possible he may have been quite the romantic, but missing some of the
things you’d always yearned for?”

My head snapped up
as I looked into his eyes. “How could you possibly know that? Why would you ask
me something like that?” I suddenly felt uncomfortable, wondering who had
talked to him. Had he called Dad? Had Rachel told him something?

“Because I’ve sat
in this chair a hundred times asking the same question to a hundred others not
unlike you. Miss Colter—Shelby . . . you haven’t once mentioned
if your fiancé was a believer. Was he?”

I looked down
again. “No, he wasn’t.”

“And was he
comfortable with the fact that your faith is important to you?”

“No, he wasn’t. I
thought I could handle it. I thought somewhere down the line, he’d want what I
had. Then we could raise our kids in a Christian home. It’s what I’ve always
dreamed of.”

“Yet your heart
fell for someone promising you the moon but not willing to share your belief in
God.”

“Exactly,” I
answered, though it came out more of a croak. The tears returned. “All my life
I wanted someone who would love me, someone who would be excited to share a
life with me. I was always that girl who never got the guy she wanted because
he always had eyes for someone else. The girl who got stuck with the guys who
were nice enough, but never set her heart to pounding. The girl who was serving
punch at the prom instead of dancing with the cute guy from her history class.
I didn’t want to be that girl the rest of my life.

“But when I met
Will, I
wasn’t
that girl anymore. He fell head over heels in love with
me. It was literally love at first sight. For both of us.”

“Where did you meet
him, if I may ask?”

“The first week of
my senior year at Samford. He was a friend of a friend. He was on leave from
the Navy and had flown in from San Diego for a couple of weeks. He showed up at
this party and . . . oh, you don’t need to hear all this.”

“No, no. Go on.
Please.”

“He showed up at
this party and the minute my friend introduced us, it was like he was smitten
with me. I’d never had that experience before. I mean, he couldn’t take his
eyes off me. He wanted to know all about me, about my family, my
childhood . . .” I caught myself smiling, remembering the night.
“We ended up talking all night. We never left my friend’s apartment. Sat right
there on his sofa and talked all night long.

“I couldn’t
believe it. Here was this handsome, articulate, intelligent man—interested in
me
?
”

“Wait. Why do say
that—‘interested in me’? Why
shouldn’t
he be interested in you? You’re a
beautiful young lady, you’re obviously articulate and intelligent. Yet you say it
as though no one in his right mind would be attracted to you. Why is that?”

“No, I didn’t mean
it that way. It’s just that . . . well, like I said. I was
always the third wheel. The one who was buddies with all the guys in the Latin
club. The guys I had crushes on never even knew I existed. And now here’s this
fascinating, wonderful man—
smitten
with me? But I didn’t care. I didn’t
try to analyze it. I just let go and fell in love. By the time he flew back to California,
we were hopelessly in love. Three months later, he invited me to visit him. By
the end of the week, he took me to a breathtaking view overlooking the beach
and proposed to me.”

“And?”

I glanced at his
clock on the wall. Ten minutes to five. “And to make a long story short, one
day I woke up and realized I couldn’t marry this man.”

“Out of nowhere?
You just came to that decision?”

It took a few
minutes for me to find the words. “No, Dr. Love. Not out of nowhere. I found
out this man who had pledged his life to me on that beautiful cliff overlooking
the Pacific . . . was also engaged to someone else.”

The clocked
ticked. He said nothing.

“She wrote me a
letter . . . sent pictures . . . they made a
lovely couple.” I looked up, unable to force a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, my. That must
have been awful.”

“I couldn’t
believe it. I thought I
knew
him. I didn’t have one trace of doubt about
his love for me. But it was all true. She even sent the engagement announcement
from their newspaper, including a photo of them together. How could I have been
so easily duped?”

He rubbed his
hands together as if deep in thought. Or wanting to strangle Will. I wasn’t
exactly sure.

“The thing is . . .
I never told anyone.”

“About his double
life?”

“Yes. I couldn’t.
I was too ashamed that I’d been so stupid and so blind.”

“But Miss Colter,
you couldn’t possibly have known.”

“I know. At least
that’s what I kept telling myself. But the fact is . . . well,
Mom and Dad were never comfortable with my relationship with Will. They tried
so many times to talk to me about being in a relationship with someone who wasn’t
a believer. The old “unequally yoked” thing. But I just knew . . .
I knew God had led Will into my life. I was so sure he’d come around
eventually. And to be quite honest, it caused a distancing between my parents
and me. I was tired of hearing their concerns. I wanted to marry Will. I
resented their constant questions and doubts and . . . and
bottom line, I was sure I knew better. I was sure they’d come around and love
him no matter what. Especially when he turned his heart to God. I just knew he
would.

“But in the end, they
were right. No, they didn’t know the details, but they were right to be
concerned. They loved me and wanted nothing more than to protect me. Instead, in
essence, I shoved my hand in their faces and told them to butt out of my life
if they couldn’t be happy for me.”

He let out a long
sigh. “Well, as a parent, I assure you they don’t hold it against you. Breaks
our hearts to see our kids suffer, but I’m guessing they held no hard feelings
once you told them it was over.”

I pulled out a
tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped my nose. “You’re right. They
were wonderful. Of course, they think I called it off just because I realized
Will and I were ‘too different’ . . . but they have no idea what
really happened.”

“And how are
you
in your heart of hearts? Struggling with trust?”

I blew out a
scoff. “Yes. Well, that and my general mistrust of all men on the planet.” I
looked up at him. “Present company and my daddy excluded.”

He smiled. “And
that’s natural. I’d worry if you
weren’t
a bit mistrusting after what
happened. But that gives us something to work on. And with your permission, I’d
like to help you find your way again. Are you up for that?”

I wiped my tears
and attempted a weary smile. “Yes, I’d like that. I really would.”

“Good!” he said, reaching
over to pat my hand. “Let’s set up a regular time every week and see what the
Lord has in store for us. In the meantime, will you permit me to pray for you?”

The lump surfaced
in my throat again so I just nodded.

He took hold of my
hands in his and began. “Lord God, You are our Abba Father. Our King of Kings
and Lord of Lords. And oh, how You
love
us. Even when our hearts are
broken and our minds are confused, still You love us. Father, I ask You to pour
out Your Holy Spirit even at this moment. Fill Shelby with Your presence. Help
her to feel Your embrace and make her know without so much as a trace of doubt,
that You love her and want her to begin anew. Help her learn to trust again by
first trusting again in
You
. Lord, You are full of grace and wonder and
we are filled with awe at the way You reach down and touch our lives. How You
take the most trivial things to nudge us this way or that at any moment in
time. The way You led me to the library last Sunday just to dig through the
librarian’s drawer in search of some breath mints.” He chuckled. “And how You
helped me find Miss Colter there by the bookshelf, looking for books and
instead finding a friend.” He laughed quietly again.

“Oh, Lord God, how
we love Your sense of humor . . . Your divine purpose in the
smallest of things we do at any given time. You are Lord. You are
Jehovah-Jireh! You are GOD, and we love You with all our hearts. Amen and amen.”

He squeezed my
hands and gave me a quick hug. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I
whispered. “Thank you so much, Dr. Love.”

“Stop by and talk
with Dorothea to set up a standing appointment. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
He opened the door for me.

“Will do. Thanks
again.” I smiled on my way out, inhaling the faint scent of cigar . . .
with the hint of minty fresh breath mints.

Of course, I was
the last one seated at the big round table. I’d debated about skipping the
church dinner altogether, but I’d promised Sandra and knew she still needed a
ride home. She’d met me at the door to the fellowship hall, took my purse and
pointed me in the direction where she and several others were seated, then
showed me where to go through the cafeteria-style line. Since it was my first
time, the meal was complimentary. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, and the
home-style entrees made my mouth water. And then there was the dessert table.
If nothing else, Baptists sure know how to eat.

I took my seat
next to Sandra as she introduced me to everyone at the table. My fellow
hostesses Chelsea, Debra, and Leila were there along with a handful of guys I’d
never met before. Then I noticed Cassie seated next to Chelsea. When Sandra
introduced her, she gave me a little wave and got back to work on her salad.
With all the seats taken, I assumed Tucker must be working.