The Big 5-Oh! (12 page)

Eluding thoughts of God was no easy task either, especially during eighteen solid months of battling cancer. She’d closed her eyes before each of her surgeries, and opened them again afterward, with the Lord's name perched right on the tip of her tongue. His song could almost be heard behind the clanking metal of the MRIs and the
click-click-click
of the radiation therapy equipment. And yet it was a song never quite sung, a Name never uttered, a healing presence never acknowledged. Liv knew she would be ashamed of herself if she had good sense or the ability to overlook her own pride, but she had neither.

So there she sat, Jared beside her, looking so handsome in a crisp charcoal suit with tone-on-tone navy shirt and tie, smiling Sanibel Islanders all around them, and the middle-aged Pastor Phillips standing at the pulpit, assuring them that there was no offense their Lord could not forgive.

No, Olivia. Keep it together.

Despite Liv's best efforts, a spout of emotion welled up inside of her, and tears sprang to her eyes. In her attempt to blink them back, they got the better of her and plunked out, cascading down both cheeks in fat droplets.

Oh, come on. Not now.

But if there was any one thing that Olivia Wallace remembered about the God she used to serve, it was that His timing was all His own. And He had apparently chosen this particular moment, as she sat next to Jared Hunt in his tiny island church, to draw her heart back toward Him.

“In the gospel of Luke, chapter fifteen,” the pastor explained, “the Lord shows us a picture-type of His love as the prodigal son returns home. ‘But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son. But the father said to his servants, Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Oh, good grief. Not now!

That was all Liv needed. She lowered her head as the tears began to flow in uncontrollable waves. After a moment, she felt Jared's arm around her shoulder, and he offered her a white cotton handkerchief. She didn’t even know men still carried them.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a whisper.

“Fine,” she managed, taking the handkerchief and wiping her face.

Jared's arm remained around her until the service concluded, and he placed his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the church afterward.

“It was lovely,” she told Pastor Phillips as she filed past him.

“Thank you. Come see us again any time,” he returned. “Morning, Jared.”

“Morning, Ed.”

Liv slid into the passenger seat and flipped down the mirror to wipe her eyes before Jared joined her.

“Want to tell me?” he asked once he’d yanked the door shut behind him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, keeping her head angled away from him and concentrating on the line of traffic leaving the small parking lot.

“No worries,” Jared commented, and he turned over the key in the ignition. “I was thinking we could go home and change, and then maybe pick up a picnic lunch at the marina and head out on the water for a couple of hours. What do you think?”

“That sounds so great.”

An hour later, after changing into black, knee-length cotton shorts and a bright-white tank top, Liv used a sponge and some foundation to patch the orange streaks still showing on her legs. Piling her curls into some semblance of an upward sweep, she fastened them into place with a tortoise-shell clip and headed out the door.

She waved at Clayton Clydesdale when she reached the bottom of the driveway, but he simply grunted and darted his attention to the fat, bright orange cat hiding in the underbrush of a shrub in need of pruning.

“Come on now, Morey,” she heard him snap. “Get out of there right now and c’mon home.”

Finally, the cat dashed past him and over the stairs in one giant leap, straight through the open door and into Clayton's house. Without casting a look back in her direction, the owner of the enormous cat followed suit, slamming the door behind him.

“I take it you spoke to Clayton,” Liv said when Jared joined her at the bottom of the drive.

“No, not yet. Why?”

“Oh,” she replied on a sigh. “I guess he's just rude today for good measure.”

“Have you met Clayton?” Jared asked with a laugh. “He's rude every day of the week and twice on Tuesdays. The only creature on the planet who's seen his softer side is that cat of his.”

“Morey.” Liv nodded.

“The thing weighs about two hundred pounds, has lived as long as Clayton, and has his owner wrapped right around his giant orange paw.”

Liv laughed and touched Jared on the arm. “It's good to know he actually
has
a softer side.”

“Who? Clayton? Or the cat?”

Half an hour later, Liv and Jared headed out into the open Gulf off the shores of Sanibel Island.

“I thought we’d head toward Captiva,” he told her as they left the marina.

“O-kay!” she called, producing a pair of sunglasses from her purse and setting them into place.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she replied. “You?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’re all set then.”

Liv bit her lip. She would need the courage to talk to him about what happened in church, and she didn’t know where to start.

She looked out over the Gulf and watched the dark green ripples on the surface of the water dance beneath foamy caps. Sunlight reflections ricocheted, leaving golden glitter in their path. Dolphins rolled like smooth hoops along the boat's course, and Liv extended her hand over the side into the soft spray of water. After a few minutes she took a deep breath and swallowed hard before turning back and curling
sideways in the leather seat, her legs folded beneath her as she faced Jared.

“You know,” she began, and he glanced over at her. “Before today, I hadn’t been inside a church for a very long time.”

“No? Why not?” he asked with casual curiosity.

“I’m not sure I can explain it, really. After my husband died, I went into a bit of a funk or something. I know it sounds crazy since he didn’t just pack up and move out, but I felt rather abandoned.”

“I can understand that.”

“You can?” She was hopeful.

“Of course. You plan your life with this one other person, and then, without warning, all of your plans fall to the ground.”

“That's exactly how it felt,” she told him. “And I suppose it seemed a bit like God had abandoned me too.”

Jared nodded.

“Anyway, I was really touched by what the pastor preached about this morning. How the prodigal son's return was received by his father, how all was forgiven.”

“I’m guessing you needed to hear that.”

“I suppose I did.”

“Were you a believer?” he asked. “I mean, before your husband passed away.”

“Yes.”

Time ticked by in perfect cadence with the thump of the boat coasting over wave after wave after wave. It felt as if several minutes had passed since she’d confessed her former Christian faith, but Jared punctuated it by reaching across the seat and squeezing Liv's hand.

“Welcome back,” he said.

Liv's eyes filled up once again, and she smiled at Jared through salty emotion. Then, once he’d returned his attention to the open sea ahead, she closed her eyes and laid back her head.

I’m so sorry
, she prayed in silence.
I didn’t even know I was turning away until I was already gone. Thank You for forgiving me … and for welcoming me home.

When she opened her eyes again, Jared smiled at her. He extended one arm toward her, and she scooted across the seat and leaned into his embrace.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he told her, and she nuzzled her head against his shoulder.

Liv couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so content and happy, and she determined that she would call Hallie as soon as she got home and thank her for insisting she make this trip. Perhaps she had succeeded in breaking the long line of birthday-cursed years by coming to Florida and getting a new perspective.

She smiled as she pictured them, all the mangled and battered birthdays, flying and bumping into the surf behind her.

“Pru! Pru! Calm down!” Horatio implored, but Prudence continued to wail.

“Oh, braaaaay. Braaaaaaaay.”

“What is it? What's wrong with her?” the stallion asked Horatio in a cautious whisper.

“Prudence has a very low threshold for change,” the owl replied.

H
urricane season doesn’t start until June, Gayle. But the way those winds kicked up this morning, I could have easily forgotten that. These pictures are live from the Fort Myers airport. This storm cell came right out of nowhere with winds at 20 miles per hour and golf ball-sized hail.”

“Welcome to Central Florida, ladies and gentlemen.”

Liv tucked her feet beneath her and turned up the volume. Boofer, freshly liberated for the first day from her lampshade-shaped ball and chain, snuggled up against Liv's knee as she
watched local newscasters belabor the details of the storm that had summoned her from bed at six-thirty that morning.

Liv wondered if she was going to have even one morning while on vacation in Florida where she would keep that promise to herself and sleep until ten. At this point, an eight o’clock wake-up call seemed like an extravagance.

“It's 7:18 a.m., and this storm warning will remain in effect until 9:30—unfortunately, right through drive time, so be careful out there.”

Well, if she wasn’t going to have the opportunity to sleep in, at least she didn’t have to suffer through a morning commute. That was something, anyway.

She sipped from her coffee cup and hadn’t had time to set it down on the table beside her when—

Snap—crackle—POP!
The entire house went dark and silent.

Boofer's head darted up, questions burning in her big brown eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Liv reassured her, fluffing the fur at the back of her neck with soft, easy strokes. “It's just a power outage from the storm.”

The eager whistle of the high winds filled the silence and, out of the corner of her eye, Liv noticed something large fly past the sliders. She jumped up from the sofa and hurried to the glass doors as one of the large wicker chairs rolled across the length of the patio like a tumbleweed.

Slipping into the rubber sandals she’d left by the door, Liv pulled open the glass sliders and scurried outside. The large wooden table next to the hot tub seemed like a good bet, so she scuffed the lightweight rattan chairs toward it and tucked them between the table and the stucco wall. As she looked around to see what else might need to be weighted down, Boofer scuttled
past her and pushed open the unlatched screen door, making her escape before Liv could even turn around.

“Boofer! Come back here!” she called, holding the door handle with tight frustration. “Boooooofer!”

She’d taken only one solid step past the doorway before she was stopped right in her tracks by the instant illumination of a lightning bolt that cracked straight through the trunk of a small palm tree less than ten yards in front of her, splitting it down the center like a sharp knife through a loaf of bread.

A raspy scream broke out of her throat, and Liv stood there trembling, her eyes wide, rain pouring over her from the turbulent, greenish sky as she stared at the smoking carcass of the palm tree. It looked like a sliced pineapple on a barbecue, with one side of it toppled over on the lawn. A clap of thunder made her jump backward, and she stepped back into the patio. Remembering Josie's warning about the dog being “a runner,” she propped open the screen door and hurried back into the house for a safer pair of shoes and an umbrella.

As she sprinted down the hall and into the bedroom, Liv couldn’t help but wonder if this was her birthday-cursed fate. While rushing out into a thunderstorm to retrieve Boofer, would she be struck by lightning and split down the middle like that palm tree?