The Runaway Pastor's Wife (20 page)

“Here, let me help you.” He fluffed the pillows
behind her for support. “So I understand you were in a pretty serious
accident.” He pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down, tossing the
clipboard toward the foot of her bed. He stretched out his long legs, folding
his arms across his chest, obviously quite comfortable and ready to talk. “Tell
me about it.”

Annie glanced out the window to avoid the
expectant expression on his face. “Actually, Mr. McGregor, I’d—”

“David. Just call me David.” That smile again.

“Okay . . . David, I was just
going to say I’d rather not talk about the accident right now. So maybe there
are some other folks on this floor you might want to—”

He twisted his mouth to one side as if puzzled.
“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about your accident, but you look like you
could use some company.”

He paused for a moment then bounced out of the
chair and headed toward the wall across from Annie’s bed. “Whoa! Will you look
at all these cards!” He examined the cluster of get-well cards and numerous
hand-made posters taped to the wall then tossed a knowing smile over his
shoulder at her. “Looks like you have quite a fan club. Who are all these
kids?” he asked, pointing to an assortment of snapshots.

“I teach second grade. Those are my students.”

“You like it?”

“Like what?”

“Teaching school.”

“Yes, I love it. I really hate being laid up
here. I can’t stand watching the calendar tick off day after day.”

He wandered over to the windowsill filled with
flower arrangements. “Oh, I’ll bet you don’t miss them half as much as they
miss you.” He drifted over to her beside table, leaning over to smell a bouquet
of red roses. Standing right beside her, he turned his head to face her,
obviously waiting for a response.

That smile. Like some irresistible magnetic
field that’s pulling me in.
She scolded herself for such a
ridiculous thought. She tried focusing on her folded hands. “I’m not so sure.
They’re great kids.”

“Tell me more about Annie Franklin.” He dug his
hands deep into the pockets of his khaki slacks and strolled casually back to
his chair and sat down. “You from around here? From
Tulsa
?”

“No, I was born and raised in
Tennessee
. I’ve
only lived here a couple of months. Graduated from OSU last spring. Got a
teaching job, found an apartment, and here I am.”

“So, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you sound so normal. I’d expect a girl born
and raised in
Tennessee
to have quite a drawl, but you sound
normal to me. Guess all those years at OSU will straighten out just about anybody
with a hillbilly accent.”

She didn’t laugh, but felt a smile slowly spread
across her face. She leaned her head to one side.

He grinned. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

She studied him a moment longer. “No, not at
all. I was just thinking you don’t exactly fit the mold when it comes to being
a chaplain.”

“I don’t?” He laughed, as if shocked.
“What—should I act real somber? Maybe I need to practice looking
more . . .
reverent
or something. Or maybe I should use
‘thee’ and ‘thou’ when I speak? Would that help?”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “No, I mean,
aren’t chaplains supposed to pray with their patients?”

He smiled. “You want me to pray?”

Annie hesitated. “Maybe another time.”

“I’ll take that as an invitation to stop by
again sometime.” He stood to leave, making his way to the door. Just before he
slipped out, he stopped and winked over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Annie
Franklin.”

In the following weeks, David McGregor stopped
by every day. Sometimes twice a day. Without pressure or any form of
intimidation, he slowly broke through the barriers of her sadness. Eventually
she opened up and shared her disappointments and frustrations of this untimely
accident. She talked about her students, her dreams, her goals.

Yet, there were definite limits to the subjects
she was willing to discuss with this “preacher boy.” And David McGregor would
later tell her he was eminently aware of her carefully constructed wall of
mistrust.

Whenever she turned the conversation to him,
David talked openly about his background, his calling into the ministry, and
his plans to one day pastor a church. The chaplaincy was part of his training
for ministry. She evaded the subject of faith whenever possible, but he always
seemed to sneak in a reference or two to God. Nothing heavy.

Gradually, she realized it was not so much the
“religion” she observed in him. It was the apparent and obviously intimate
relationship he had with the Lord. It was simply a natural part of who he was.
He seemed so
real
.

Growing up, Annie’s mother had always taken her
to church, but she was not impressed by the people she met there. They weren’t
at all real. They
played
church. But the church and God had no impact
whatsoever on their everyday lives. And Annie recognized that inconsistency in
her own mother as much as anyone. She hated the hypocrisy.

Ironically, Annie believed in God with all her
heart. She had learned enough in Sunday school to know the difference between
right and wrong. And she believed that God gave his son Jesus to save the
world. She just never quite knew what to do about it.

Yet, here was a guy who really lived what he
believed in a way that was appealing, spiritually speaking. It baffled her.

On the day of her release from the hospital,
David stopped by early. “So you’re finally going to blow this joint and get on
with your life!” he announced as he waltzed in her door.

She was dressed, packed, seated in the chair
beside her bed and waiting for an orderly to bring a wheelchair. “Yes, I am.
And I’m not going to miss this place at all. But I have to admit, I’ll miss our
visits. You’ve been wonderful, David. I can’t thank you enough for all your
help. I think you’ll make a great pastor one of these days.”

He hopped up to sit on her empty bed. There was
a different expression on his face. He looked at her briefly then concentrated
on his legs which were swinging nervously off the edge of the bed.

Annie cocked her head and laughed. “What’s up
with
you?
”

“I need to ask you something,” he said, still
not looking up.

“So—ask.”

He tucked his hands under his legs. “Well, the
thing is . . . what I wanted to say was . . . ”

“Y’know, you’re acting very peculiar, David,”
she teased.

Just then, a young orderly wheeled a chair into
the room. “Limo at your service, ma’am. Is this all you’ve got?” He pointed to
the small tapestry bag sitting by her feet.

“I had a friend take all my flowers home for me
yesterday. So this is it.”

“You sure know how to travel light! Oughta’ make
you show some of these other birds how to pack. You should see ’em. They come rollin’
in here—got a whole fleet of moving vans lined up outside!”

David and Annie looked at each other and
laughed. David stood and offered to escort Annie downstairs for the orderly.
The young man checked out the photo ID clipped to David’s shirt. “Well, sure
enough, Reverend. I’m sure that would be just fine. You can leave the chair
down there by the entrance for me.”

“No problem,” David answered. He turned to
Annie. “Now, let’s see if I can get you into this wheelchair without putting
you back in traction.” He carefully assisted her into the chair and hung her
bag on the handle. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

Annie reached her good hand up to stop him.
“David, wait. Sit down. You had a question for me.”

“Oh . . . that! Well, see, I just
thought . . . I was wondering—”

“Will you just spit it out?”

“Okay. The problem here . . .
well, see—
officially
I’m not allowed to ask for your phone number.”

Annie felt the heat rising up her neck. “Uh,
well, I don’t—”

“Wait. Here—” he said, snapping off his ID
badge. “I’m not even supposed to be on the clock yet, so you can consider this
on my personal time. So it’s not ‘Chaplain McGregor’ or anything. It’s just me.
David.” He flashed a nervous smile and rubbed his hands together.

“No, it isn’t that,” she said. “I’m just not
sure you really want to do that. To call me. There’s a lot you don’t know about
me, David. And I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

He blew out a gust of air. “Oh,
that’s
all! I thought you were going to tell me you were married or something.” And
with an air of relief, he jumped up, twirled her chair around and headed out
the door. “See, the way I figure it, you’re going to be a gimp for quite a
while—”

“A gimp?” She laughed as he rolled her down the
hall.

“Oh yeah. Big time gimp. And you’re going to
need somebody to take you to the store, carry your groceries in for you, take
you to your doctor’s appointments. That kind of thing.”

He paused. She missed his next comment as he
mumbled behind her. “What was that?” she asked.

“I said someone needs to get you out of the
house occasionally. Like to a movie or something.” He wheeled her onto an
elevator full of passengers. He left her facing all of them with her back to
the doors as he joined the rest of them staring at her or the lighted numbers
above her.
Awkward.

“They’ll all tell you it would be a big, big
mistake to turn down such an incredible offer,” he continued casually, nodding
his head at the fellow passengers, his eyes still focused above her. All ten
strangers simultaneously turned their confused attention toward her.

Annie couldn’t help but laugh. He lowered his
gaze to look into her face, his deep blue eyes alive with mischief, that
irresistible smile melting her heart.

In that moment, she knew her resistance was
history. That carefully constructed, protective wall came crumbling down.

In the days that followed, she received lots of
flowers and a strange variety of thoughtful gifts. A bakery delivered a huge
chocolate chip cookie the size of an extra large pizza. The message written in
squiggly lines of vanilla frosting read, “How I Spent My Fall Vacation.” A
brown icing UPS truck with a frowning face zoomed below the words.

One afternoon he showed up with a small
fishbowl, complete with blue gravel, green plastic seaweed, and a plastic scuba
diver. In the sloshing water, a bright orange goldfish with wide, frightened
eyes swam frantically in circles. When Annie’s questioning eyes searched his,
David responded. “Company to keep an eye on you when I can’t be around. His
name is Spike. Think of him like a dangerous watchdog if any of your other
boyfriends show up. He’s been trained to attack.”

They were inseparable. Little by little, day by
day, Annie Franklin fell in love with David McGregor.

Then one evening a couple months later, much to
her disappointment, he called to cancel the quiet evening they had planned
together. An hour later, as she sat reading in her living room, she began to
hear music outside. She peeked out the window of her second floor apartment.
Still unable to see anything, she stepped out onto her balcony. There on the
courtyard below her, dressed in a black tuxedo and holding a huge bouquet of
red roses, stood David McGregor. With the assistance of a professional stringed
quartet, he sang of his love to her in the clear night air, completely at ease
in front of the growing crowd of curious neighbors.

Since
the beginning of time

Since
words first rhymed

No one
ever loved you more.

Since
birds took flight,

Since
day shared with night,

Your
heart I have longed for.

I’m
here before you now,

Down
upon my knees,

I’m
making you a vow

Asking
will you please?

Be mine

Be mine

Forever
will you be my mine?

My wife

My
life,

Forever
will you be mine?

Together
for the rest of time,

Be
mine.

When the realization finally registered that
this was a concert for her alone, Annie covered her face with her hands. For a
brief moment, she began to laugh at the spectacle below. Then as she looked up
once again, the tenderness of it swept over her and the tears of joy began to
fall. David’s smooth voice continued the sweet serenade. And even as her
neighbors began to gather in the moonlight surrounding his entourage, his eyes
remained on her alone.

Forever
will you be mine?