Lighthearted. That made me sound old. It was a word Joe would have used.
Joe. My heart sank at the thought of letting him go.
While Joe had asked to see me, I was the one who was grateful for the opportunity to talk to my friend. I needed his advice and welcomed the chance to bare my soul.
Shay remained busy, working the counter. Once I was served, she set the tab by my plate and basically ignored me the rest of the meal. I wasn’t given a chance to talk to her again. With time running short, I was forced to leave soon afterward. Because I’d waited longer than I should have, I speed-walked back to the office and arrived a scant five minutes before the Brownes.
—
Friday morning, I got the children off to school, checked in with Mary Lou, and then headed out to drive to Spokane. Linda Kincaid had offered to pick up Mark and Sarah after school, feed them dinner, and then take them back to the house and wait for my return.
Frankly, I don’t know what I would have done without her. When Sarah learned I wouldn’t be home on Friday, she asked if Shay could be her babysitter. Right away Mark complained that he didn’t need a babysitter.
Thinking about the children, I gassed up my car and headed out. Traffic was reasonable once I got out of the Seattle morning rush, and the lengthy drive was pleasant. The biggest concern was making it over Snoqualmie Pass. Winter months could be tricky. Thankfully, the weather forecast was good and the roads were clear and dry.
I arrived just after one and Joan thoughtfully had a tuna sandwich waiting for me. Knowing me, she was well aware I wouldn’t stop along the way to eat, and she was right.
Joe was in his recliner in the living room, and I was stunned at the first look at him. He was terribly thin, his face gaunt. When I first arrived he was asleep, something he did more and more, Joan told me. He didn’t stir when Joan brought me into the room. She lovingly placed her hand on his shoulder, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Drew is here.”
Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and when he saw me he attempted a weak smile. “Drew,” he said, his voice feeble and thin. “Thank you for coming.”
“It’s good to see you, Joe.” I scooted the ottoman closer to his recliner, which Joe righted. I didn’t ask him how he was doing or how he felt. It was clear he was deathly sick, and like Joan had explained it was only a matter of weeks now. Hospice had been notified.
We talked for several minutes about the church and how matters were progressing. As always, he listened, asked pertinent questions, and had the ability to read between the lines. I was happy to tell him Sunday-morning attendance was up and that financially we were meeting our budget. That was a great relief to me. Finances were a constant worry.
“Enough about Seattle Calvary,” Joe said. “I want to know about you. How are you doing?”
“Much better,” I answered without explaining.
He studied me for an uncomfortable moment, letting me know I shouldn’t have hesitated to come to see him. Neither one of us said it, but we both knew why I hadn’t. All this was communicated without either of us uttering a single word.
After a few moments, Joe asked, “It’s been how long now since you lost Katie?”
“Four years.” The longest, most miserable years of my life, but that was understood as well.
A couple times Joe closed his eyes while talking and I was afraid I was tiring him out. He rebounded quickly, though, and maintained his caring and loving attitude.
“Almost five years since she was diagnosed,” he repeated after one of his short eye-resting breaks. “Have you met anyone?”
I don’t know what it was about Joe. He had the uncanny knack of sensing the very subject most heavy on my mind. Over the years, he’d done it again and again. It felt, at times, as if he had the ability to read my mind.
“Funny you should ask.”
He responded with the faint semblance of a smile. “So there is.”
For the next thirty minutes I told him about Shay, starting with how we met in the church that morning last December, over a year ago. I explained that in helping her get into Hope Center, I’d rebounded from the spiritual slump I’d suffered. The feelings of worthlessness, of loss and anger.
Joe arched his brows, nodded a few times, and then asked. “What about Shay appeals to you?”
“Sarah—”
Holding up his hand, he stopped me. “I didn’t ask about Sarah, I asked about what attracts you to this woman?”
His question gave me pause and I realized I felt guilty about my feelings for Shay. My thoughts had wandered down paths that were different from the way I thought about other women. Several of the ladies in the church had tried to arrange blind dates for me with their daughters or nieces or the daughters of friends. Not once had I been tempted. Everything felt fresh and new with Shay.
“I can see you’re having a hard time answering my question.”
“No,” I disagreed, “not difficult. I realized something just now.” I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. “She’s different from any other woman I’ve ever known. There’s an edge to her that comes from a troubled past. She wasn’t raised in the church, she came to faith on her own, down a path that would have broken a woman with less grit. She’s had to fight her way to where she is now and she still has a long way to go. I admire her.”
“Has she met the children?”
I nodded. “They love her, especially Sarah. Mark doesn’t say much, but from the things he’s mentioned, I know he likes her, too. I love the way she interacts with my children, the way she smiles when she’s happy.” Her smiles were rare. I was mesmerized every time I saw one and thought she was beautiful. “It’s as if she brings light into the dark corners of my life,” I added, deep in thought. “At the same time, I seem to want to justify the way I’m attracted to her and worry what my congregation will think if I start to date her.”
Joe paused and closed his eyes again.
I waited several minutes. “And guilty,” he added, insinuating that I might feel bad because of how deeply I loved Katie.
“Yes, I suppose there’s that, too. I loved my wife.” I could never deny or discount the intensity and depth of my love for Katie. Every minute with her was one I’d treasured. Had I known before we married that she would die young, I wouldn’t have changed a single thing. I would have prized every day with her even more.
“Katie loved you and she wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone.”
Before her death, Katie and I had talked about this very subject. At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever loving another woman with the depth and passion with which I loved her. The subject was uncomfortable and I cut short our conversation, finding it depressing. In retrospect, I wished I’d looked beyond the pain of the inevitability of her leaving us and been willing to discuss the future the way she’d wanted.
“Did you know Joan is my second wife?” Joe asked.
Surprised, I shook my head. “No.” Glancing into the other room, I looked at Joan, who was busy baking cookies for me to take back to the children.
“I married young. Too young,” Joe told me. “The marriage was a mistake and my wife left me for another man within the first year. The divorce devastated me. Cut me to the core. I was convinced I would be of no use to God in ministry if anyone knew I had a failed marriage under my belt. I did everything within my power to save that marriage, Drew. Everything. In the end it did no good.
“Three years later I met Joan. We dated for two years until she finally wanted to know if I was serious. She loved me, but she wasn’t going to wait for me to propose if that wasn’t my intention.”
Apparently, Joan was listening in on our conversation because she brought in a plate of cookies still warm from the oven. She set it down on the table next to me and said, “I ended up proposing to him.”
“I’m no fool,” Joe said and reached for his wife’s fingers. “I said yes and there hasn’t been a day that I’ve regretted having Joan as my wife.”
Grinning, Joan balanced her hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side.
Joe shook his head. “Not a day, Joan. Yes, I’ve been upset with you and we’ve certainly had our share of challenges over the years. But not a minute has passed that I’ve thought I wanted anyone but you.”