The Reluctant Bride (10 page)

“Good night” He smiled and left. Micah fastened the dead-bolt lock on her front door and switched on another light in the living room. Walking past the full-length mirror that hung in the hallway, she stopped abruptly, startled by her own reflection. The colorful skirt she'd worn tonight was now marred, the green blouse, sprinkled with cat hair and blood, and a trickle of mascara trailed down the side of her face. She pulled another tissue from the box and wiped away the smeared eye makeup.

“Silly cat,” she murmured as she walked into the kitchen. “Why did you have to play in the traffic, anyway?” Walking to the table, she saw a note sticking out from beneath the saltshaker. Realizing Carole must have used the apartment key Micah had given to her in case of emergency, she picked up
the slip of paper and began to read Carole's hap hazard scribbling:

Hi!

Used your key—emergency! Date with a cute accountant I told you about and no shoes to match my new skirt. I borrowed your red ones. Thanks!

Luv ya, Carole

P.S. I brought in your mail. Who do you know in Paris?

The note fell from Micah's hand and floated down to the table while she turned to the hutch. The mail. There it was. Micah pushed a charge-card statement and some advertisements to the side and picked up the letter from France. Tears slid down her cheeks, blurring the ink as they plopped, one by one, onto the envelope.

Getting into his automobile, Rob leaned over to pick up a piece of the frayed, old towel Micah had placed over Patches. Rob held the small scrap of terry cloth in his hand and thought of the woman to whom he had just said good-night. Grass and blood stained the front of Micah's floral print skirt, stains from kneeling to comfort Patches. Tears over a cat, a cat that wasn't even hers. Rob shook his head, his fingers closing tightly around the piece of cloth. Micah's
watery green eyes remained in his memory as he silently sat there. Her eyes and those crumpled, stained clothes that she had not seemed to even notice. Tossing the cloth onto the floorboard, he clasped the steering wheel firmly in his hands. He had known it before now, but he had not felt it as sharply as he did tonight when he'd knelt beside her in the grass, seeing her tenderness. He loved her. The gentle-natured, auburn-haired young woman who painted pictures and cried over other people's pets. The love was there as none had ever been before. Sharp, painful, wonderful, real. He should have told her before tonight. Should he tell her now?

Rob started the car engine and pulled away from the curb. He would find another time to tell her. There would be a better time. There had to be.

T
elling Mrs. Poe proved easier than Micah had supposed. Patches ran out into the street too often, according to her owner. She'd always known it would happen one day. A call to Dr. Tackett confirmed the worst Patches was gone.

Micah went back to her apartment angry at Mrs. Poe for her callousness, angry at the letter from her mother, angry at how much she now wanted a man she couldn't have. After putting on jeans and a T-shirt and pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she headed for the small flower bed just outside her back door. Working up the soil for the impatiens she would plant soon seemed like a good idea. She heard the ringing of the phone while reaching for a shovel and the click of the answering machine as it recorded Rob's message. But it was a nearby voice that caused her to look up from her gardening.

“Hey, Micah! How ya doin?” Carole called as she walked up the brick path toward her.

“Hi,” she answered, brushing some stray hair from the side of her face. “What's up?”

“I've brought back your shoes. I hope you don't mind my borrowing them without asking.”

“I don't mind.” Micah went back to the digging, turning the dirt over a shovelful at a time.

“Aren't you going to ask me how my date was?” Carole inquired. She placed the shoes on the back step.

No, Micah hadn't planned to ask. Someone else's happy love life might be more than she could bear this morning. But Carole would be hurt. “Nice guy?” was all she could manage.

“Nice and handsome and—” Carole stopped. “Did you go out with Rob last night?”

“Yes. To dinner and a movie.”

“And then?” Carole persisted while watching Micah work.

“And we came home and found Patches lying in the gutter. Hit by a car, I guess.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Is she okay?”

“No.” Micah leaned the shovel against the wall. “She's dead.”

“I really am sorry,” Carole responded. “I kind of liked that little feline.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Micah answered quietly.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Carole asked.

“No,” Micah said sadly. “I'm afraid not”

“Well, okay, I'll leave you alone. When you're feeling better, call me and I'll buy us a pizza.”

Micah smiled. “Okay.”

“By the way, who do you know in France? Do you have a secret admirer hidden away somewhere that you've forgotten to mention to me?”

“No,” she replied and wiped her hands on her old jeans. “That letter was from my mother.”

“Your mother? The one you
never
hear from? The one you won't talk about?”

“The only one I have,” Micah answered.

“You've never told me she lives in France.”

“She has for a long time.”

“So, what did she say? I mean, you don't have to tell me, but what did she want? After all this time?”

“Nothing, really.”

“I know. You don't want to talk about it. So, what else is new?”

“She wants the same things she always wants: to know I'm okay, that I'm not making mistakes with my life. Helpful hints from Mom,” she stated, her voice sharpened in sarcasm. She sighed. “I'm not up to this today, Carole. Could we talk later?”

“Micah, maybe I tease you and question you too much, but you're one of the best friends I've ever had,” Carole said, shielding her eyes from the sunlight with an uplifted hand. “It doesn't have to be me, but you need to talk to someone about this.
There's a lot of unfinished business between you and your parents that you need to deal with.”

“I know,” Micah replied. “But today…I just can't.”

Carole reached out, squeezing Micah's arm affectionately. “Call me.”

Micah assured her friend she would, then watched her walk past the shrubbery then down the same path that had brought her there. Then it was back to the dirt, the weeds and the empty flower bed waiting to be filled with colorful offerings.

“Lord, I'm sorry,” she said softly. “Sorry I'm so angry with my mother, and sorry I disappointed her. And sorry I'll disappoint Rob,” she added as she carefully set some impatiens into the ground, covering their roots with topsoil. “And I'm sorry I miss Dad so much. If I could just talk to him….” But she wouldn't, she knew. It was not what he wanted.

It was past lunchtime and Micah's stomach growled, reminding her that last night's beef Stroganoff was long gone. Breakfast hadn't sounded appealing at all. Even a simple glass of milk brought thoughts of Patches.

The phone rang again. Micah kicked off her dirty tennis shoes and hurried into the apartment barefoot. It would be Rob. And he would call until she answered.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Rob said quietly and then paused. “Have you spoken to Mrs. Poe yet?”

“Yes, and she called Dr. Tackett. Patches is gone.”

“Sorry,” he responded gently. “Did she take it hard?”

“Not as hard as I did.” Micah's soft laugh followed her reply.

“But that probably made it worse for you.”

“I'll get over it. I shouldn't be so sensitive, I guess.”

Rob's response was quick and comforting. “I like you just the way you are. Don't find fault in yourself over this.”

“No, I suppose I shouldn't. It's just…I got a letter from my mother in yesterday's mail. She has a way of doing that to me.”

He didn't respond right away, then, “The letter, was it bad news?”

“No, nothing new, really. Same old stuff…family stuff. Rob, do you think we ever get out from under it?”

“All families are different, so I can't comment about yours. But, with mine, some things never improve. You know? It's kind of like my mother's fruitcake at Christmas. It's really bad, but we eat it anyway to keep her happy. ‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’ as they say.”

“Hmm, I distinctly remember reading that in the New Testament. I thought you didn't have any interest in that way of thinking anymore.”

“That's true, I don't. But, unfortunately, I have a
great memory, and some things I've learned won't be forgotten. No matter how hard I try.”

“I guess it's that way with some things.” She hesitated. “But with my family, well, our problems don't stern from home-baked desserts.” She gave a sad, soft laugh. “I wish they did.”

“So do I,” was Rob's immediate reply. “Micah, I get the feeling that your situation is serious enough that we shouldn't be joking about it at all.”

“But laughing feels much better than crying,” she told him. “And I certainly don't feel like crying, so let's talk about something else. Your parents’ dinner tomorrow. Am I going to have to eat fruitcake?”

“No, not until December,” Rob assured her with a laugh. “My folks are looking forward to meeting you.”

“I'm so nervous about this—”

“Don't be. They're friendly, common people, Micah. You'll like them. And as I told you, Liz and the kids will be there, too, so that will help you feel more at ease.”

“What time will you pick me up?” she asked.

“Dinner is at one o'clock. What time do you usually get home from church?”

“Around noon. You could come to church with me, you know.”

“Thanks. I'll pass on that offer, but I'll meet you at your place at noon. I've got to get caught up on some work at the office today. How about this evening? Are you free?”

“No, and I know this sounds ridiculous on a Saturday night, but I'm going to a student's home to do some tutoring. He's missed a lot of school this year, and I'm trying to help him catch up before the year ends.” She exhaled audibly in frustration. “Sorry. I'd much rather be with you,” she admitted.

“Me, too,” Rob responded. “Well, tell this kid I'm jealous of him, even if he's only in elementary school. He's taking you away from me on a Saturday evening.”

“Thank you for being jealous,” she said with a smile. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” he answered and hung up.

Their conversation ended without Micah saying any of the things she needed to say. Agreeing to meet Rob's family was so unlike her that she could hardly believe she had said she would. Maybe it wasn't only her heart she was losing to this man. Maybe her common sense was going, too. She punched in the numbers to Carole's apartment

“I'm sorry I am unable to answer the phone now. At the sound of the beep, you know what to do,” was played back in Carole's recorded voice. Micah almost hung up, then decided to leave a short message.

“Carole, call me when you get home. I—”

Then a shrill beep cut off Micah's words and the answering machine.

“I'm here, Micah. Hang on a second.” Then another beeping tone. “Okay, it's off. Sorry about that,
but I just walked in the door. Hey, you wanna go get that pizza?”

“How did you know?” Micah asked.

“Lucky guess. Meet me at Baacardi's in, say, fifteen minutes?”

“I'll be there” came the answer, and in less than half an hour, the two women were seated in a booth at a crowded pizza shop enjoying their lunch while a younger generation played video games all around them.

“So, you talked to Rob and now you feel better?” Carole inquired. “You sure didn't feel like doing this an hour ago.”

“No, I talked to Rob and now I feel worse. That's where you come into the picture,” Micah explained, taking a sip of her root beer. “I'm meeting his family tomorrow. We're going to his parents’ home for dinner.”

“Wow. That sound's promising. There could be a diamond ring in this somewhere.”

“I don't want a diamond ring.”

“So tell him you prefer sapphires. He'll understand.”

“No, I mean, I can't marry him, so I can't become engaged to him…so I shouldn't be dating him. So, why am I meeting his family?”

Carole studied the frustration apparent in Micah's confused expression without responding.

“Carole, explain this to me. Am I losing my mind?”

“Maybe,” Carole replied. “Or maybe you're in love, really in love for the first time in your life. And maybe you want to see how it feels to be part of a big, happy family, his family, even if it's for only one day.”

Micah nodded her head in acknowledgment. “And I'm setting us up for heartache.”

“You and Rob both. But you must go tomorrow. As long as you're still seeing him, there's still that chance that you'll find a way to make it work.”

“I've tried to work this out in my mind a million times, but I can't see a way around it.”

“Have you discussed it with Rob? I mean, everything about your family, your fears…everything?”

“No, not completely, but—”

“This doesn't have anything to do with a promise you made to God, or anything like that, does it? I recall hearing you say, in the past, that you thought you might be a minister's wife someday. You didn't make some secret commitment—”

“No, no, of course not,” Micah answered. “It has nothing to do with that. I haven't even thought of a future with anyone else since Rob came into my life.”

“Well, you must go tomorrow. You've told him you would. And, if you go and enjoy it, you'll be that much more determined to make it work, no matter what your mom writes in those letters from France. I swear, Micah, how could your parents be so far away and, yet, so controlling? Don't let them
tell you what you can and cannot do. They don't know Rob. For goodness’ sake, they don't even know you anymore, if, in fact, they
ever
really did at all.”

“Okay, so, I'll go. I told him I would.”

“That's right. You have to do this. And then you have to let me know what happens. That's my charge for this brief consultation of ours today. Details.”

“Right,” Micah responded with a smile. “I should've known this advice wasn't free.”

“Hey, what—”

Micah raised a hand to Carole's mouth. “I know, I know! ‘What are friends for?”’ she finished Carole's statement. “Let's eat this pizza before it's too cold to enjoy.”

“Great idea,” Carole remarked, and they finished their meal together before going their separate ways.

When Micah returned to her apartment, there was only one thing left to do, and she wondered why the best thing she could do, ironically, so often became the last resort. She pulled her white Bible from the bookcase and knelt beside her bed without even opening the leather-bound treasure in her hands. Micah owned several different Bibles and kept all of them in the top of her bookcase, even this old favorite. It had belonged to a grandmother, but Micah's father had her name engraved on the cover and passed it on to her since he had little interest in religious matters and, therefore, had no real use of
it. And it hadn't meant all that much to Micah until it became nearly all that remained. The Bible, her locket and a suitcase full of clothes.

“Lord, I've come through so much, and you've always been there—everywhere—with me. Even when I wasn't aware of your presence. And you've guided me—if not directly, then indirectly, through the hands of others. Help me now. Give me the wisdom to know what to do and the strength to do it. And Rob…you know, I love him, Lord. These feelings…I can't believe they're not from you. And the things that will tear us apart aren't our fault. It just feels unfair, so unfair.” Letting her Bible slip from her hands, Micah buried her face in the bedspread and wept…for all that would never be. When she quieted in the stillness of her bedroom, she reached for a tissue on the night stand. “Now I sound like Rob, don't I? Telling you what's fair and what's not. Just like Nick and Rachel's deaths, Lord. We'll never understand things like that, but Rob needs to have faith in you anyway. Maybe that's the only reason you allowed us to meet…so I could somehow help him come back to you. Show him the way, Lord. Let him know you can be trusted, that you're still working in his life even in the midst of things we don't understand. And either show me some way that will allow us to be together, or show me when, and how, to let him go….”

“To let him go.” That phrase ran over and over in Micah's mind. How would she ever let him go?

When Sunday noon finally arrived, Micah was growing increasingly anxious about the visit. Rob picked her up right after church as he had said he would, and he told her how lovely she looked in the orange-red print dress she wore. And Micah did not tell him it was her final choice after having tried on a dozen others.