Invisible (36 page)

“Your sister?”

“Yes. Her name was Jazzy. She died when I was fifteen—while I was babysitting her. It was an . . . accident. A horrible accident. But I blamed myself.”

“Oh, Sabina. I'm so sorry. I had no idea.” As I express my grief for what Sabina's suffered, I see her in a different way. Instead of saccharine, she's sugar. Instead of whipped topping, she's heavy cream. Instead of margarine, honey, she is butter. She's
real
. And while my heart aches for her wounds, she finally makes sense to me.

“It's not something I . . . talk about much. But that day, when you were in the ER, I asked Miles if he blamed himself for his wife's death. And some of what he said impacted me. He spoke to me as one doctor to another and it helped me realize my arrogance in blaming myself for something only God has the power to control. So that afternoon, back at the cypress grove, I . . . surrendered. I acknowledged God—His presence and omnipotence. And I felt His forgiveness. His grace. And His love for me. Isn't that amazing?”

I just stare at Sabina for a moment and then the tears begin to flow. “I kept praying . . .” I sniff. “Praying that God would give you eyes to see Him. Yes, it's amazing—He's amazing.”

“He answered your prayers, Ellyn. Thank you. Thank you so much for caring enough to pray for me and for speaking truth to me. You are a true friend.”

I wave her compliment away. “I'm just so happy for you.”

“Thank you. I would have called you that evening, but I spent a long time on the phone with Antwone. I needed to explain what I'd gone through, and to tell him what I'd discovered. I also needed to ask his forgiveness.”

“How did that go?”

“He's an extraordinary man, Ellyn. Much too good for me. A gift, really. But I've been so busy all these years proving how good I am, that I didn't really take the time to appreciate what I have in him.”

Regret permeates her tone.

“I'm just lucky, or blessed, that he's remained with me—stood by his commitment to our marriage. After I talked with him. I spent the rest of the night and the next two days getting reacquainted with God and His Word. There was a Bible on one of the shelves in the rental. I've just soaked in it—rested in the truths. It's all so meaningful now.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, unable to say anything.

“What's wrong?” Sabina leans forward.

“Oh. Nothing. No, I'm just awed, really.”

“But?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Ellyn . . .”

“I don't want to make this about me, it's just that . . . Does this mean you'll leave now? Go back home?” I wipe my eyes with the linen napkin.

She reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers.

“Oh, no. Not yet. I signed a one-year lease on the house. And I think this is where I'm supposed to be. I need friends. I need you, Ellyn. I need to spend time with people like you and Miles and Twila—people who walk with God.”

“What about your husband?”

She gives my hand a squeeze, then lets go and leans back in her seat.

“Yes, I need him too. More than that, I
want
to spend time with him. He's coming here. He's taking this week to wrap some things up at work and then he's coming to stay through New Year's. After that, we'll see . . .”

I let out the breath I've held since it occurred to me she might leave. “Oh, I'm so glad. I'm not ready for you to go yet.”

“Thank you, my friend. That means a lot to me.”

I put my hand on my chest, across my heart. “Well, as much as we poke and prod at each other”—I grin at her—“you've sort of grown on me.” I wink and then we laugh together.

When we've finished lunch and paid the bill, Sabina says she wants to tell Miles something. I start to follow her but then hear my name. I turn and see the owner of Mendocino Café. I wave at him and then turn back toward Miles's table. But when the owner calls my name again, I stop and turn back again. It's clear he wants to talk to me—to talk shop. I take a step toward the kitchen and then turn back and take a step toward the table where Sabina stands talking to Miles and Nerissa.

Miles is like a magnet.

And I'm a flimsy paperclip.

Oh. No. I'm in trouble.

I turn back and walk straight to the kitchen. Discussing produce vendors and new recipes is the safe bet.

Even though my heart years to, just this once, jump into unsafe.

With both feet.

Miles

Just as I finish my sandwich, Sabina comes by our table.

“Dr. Becker, Miles . . .” She seems so much more at ease today. “I want to thank you for some things you shared with me during our conversation at the hospital. They proved significant.”

“I'm glad.”

Sabina glances at Nerissa and then looks back to me. “I've reestablished my relationship with God—I'm getting to know Him again. Between you and Ellyn and Twila”—she looks at Nerissa again—“well, He got my attention. Nerissa, you have an extraordinary daughter.”

“Oh, Sabina, thank you.”

“I'll let you get back to your lunch. I just wanted to say thank you.”

I stand as she turns to go. “Doctor . . .” I put out my hand to shake hers. Once her hand is in mine, I grin and pull her into a hug. The joy I feel for her comes out in laughter as I tighten my arms around her. “Oh, Sabina, I'm so happy for you. You couldn't have shared any more wonderful news.”

As she pulls away, Nerissa, who is now standing next to us, also gives Sabina a hug. “Have you told Twila?”

“No. Not yet. I've . . . I've just wanted time alone, with God. But I will tell her.”

“Thank you for sharing your news, Sabina.”

Sabina's face shines with a new radiance. “Thank you, both, for your warmth and acceptance. Now, I'll let you get on with your lunch.”

As I turn to sit back down, Sabina stops and turns back toward me. “By the way, do you play golf?”

I chuckle. “I play as often as I can pick up a partner or join a foursome. Why?”

“My husband, Antwone, is taking some time off to come be with me. He's an avid golfer and would enjoy finding someone to play with.”

“Great. There's a course in Little River and with our temperate weather, we can play year-round unless it's raining or too windy. I'd enjoy the company.”

“Good. Nerissa, it was nice to see you.”

“You too, Sabina.”

I sit back down. “God is so good. He used something I said to impact Sabina, and He's provided a golf partner. At least temporarily.”

“I don't think you realize, Miles, how often God uses you to touch others' lives. You're His faithful friend.”

I look at Nerissa and swallow the emotions suddenly clogging my throat. “You could pay me no higher compliment.”

“It isn't a compliment. It's truth.”

Ellyn

By the time the owner and I finish our conversation, Sabina is waiting for me by the front door. I glance back at Miles and then follow Sabina out of the café. I stand at the curb with her and chat a few more minutes and then give her a hug.

“Come by for dinner sometime over the weekend. Things are slowing down with the holidays approaching.”

“I will. You know I'm not going to cook for myself, girl.” She gets into her car and I wave good-bye, and then turn to walk the two blocks to my café, where I know Rosa and Paco are already well into the daily routine. But I know two blocks doesn't give me enough time to process all that took place during that lunch hour.

I stand still for a moment and raise my hand to my shoulder—the shoulder Miles rested his hand on. I'd startled at the feel of his hand, but now I'm still tingling from his touch.

I move my hand from my shoulder to my chest. I cover my heart. What is that feeling? I glance back at the restaurant, longing for another glance of Miles.

Longing? Is that what I'm feeling?
Oh Lord, You're the One who fills my emptiness, well, at least when I don't fill it with a croissant. So now I want to fill that void with a croissant and a man? I'm so sorry.

I start down the block toward my café.

Ellyn, I am the only One who can satisfy you fully. But I also express My love for you through the love of others.

My steps slow as I consider the whisper in my soul.

One thing is certain, it isn't Earl's blabbering.

Lord, are You saying You might express Your love for me through a . . . man?

Hey, Chubs! Are you kidding me?

I pick up my pace. Rather than trying to make sense of the voices in my head, I shift my focus to the conversation over lunch with Sabina. That I understand.
Oh, Lord, thank You for opening her eyes—for revealing Yourself to Sabina.

I look across the street to the waves breaking in the cove and feel the same peace that Sabina radiated. I may not get what's going on in my head, or my heart, but I do know Who is in control.

Miles

When I get back to my office after lunch, I still have an hour before my next patient is scheduled. I sit at my desk, intending to use the time to catch up on e-mail and paperwork. When I open my e-mail, I see something from Alex. Just what I need today—to connect with my son. I smile and open the message.

Hey, Dad, Kimberli and I were talking about Christmas this morning. What's the plan? We can have it here, but we'd love to come there. I talked to Will and he agrees. We could all stay through the New Year. We'll all pitch in with the decorating and cooking. What do you think?

Christmas. I hadn't given any thought to Christmas yet and it's just five weeks away. Last year, I went south and spent the holiday with Alex and Kimberli. Will joined us for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I stayed through New Year's. It was too soon for all of us to have Christmas here, where Sarah's absence would pierce us at every turn. But now, maybe we've all healed enough. Maybe we can remember her with joy rather than grief.

I shoot my thoughts back to Alex and then block out the time on my calendar. I also send an e-mail to Nerissa and invite her and Twila to join us for Christmas Day. The boys know Nerissa. She's like family now.

That's when the thought hits me . . .

Who does Ellyn spend holidays with? Her mother, in the city? Funny, I know so little about her past. Our conversations, for the most part, have centered on the present. She mentioned a close relationship with her father before he died, but beyond that, I know little.

But then, I don't need to know more. We're just friends.

I turn from the computer screen and attempt to put Ellyn out of my mind.

Ellyn

It's a quiet evening at the café. Thursdays and Sundays are slow during the winter months, which is often a nice reprieve, as long as they're not too slow. We had a decent crowd between 6:00 and 7:30 and then it began to taper off. But tonight, I'm not sure I want a reprieve.

“Hey, Bella, do you mind if I take off early? Maria called and two of the little niños have the flu. She could use a hand.”

“Oh.” I look around the kitchen, although I already know he's taken care of all he needs to. “Of course, go ahead. I can handle it from here.”

After he's gone, I go to the swinging doors and look out at the dining room. Rosa is chatting with a couple of regulars, and my two servers are taking care of the other customers. I turn back to the kitchen and try to busy my mind.

It's no use. With the quiet come thoughts of Miles again, but this time they're accompanied by what I believe the Spirit whispered to my soul this afternoon.

Is it really possible that God wants to express His love to me through a man?

Through . . . Miles?

Odd, but the thought isn't accompanied by the usual quiver of fear that comes with the thought of an intimate relationship with a man.

Who are you kidding? God expressing His love through a man? Men are all the same. You know that.

I only know that because that's what you've told me. And you know what, Earl? I think you're a lia—

“Ellyn, you come say hello to the Reynolds. They going to Arizona for the rest of winter. They not come back until summer.”

I stare at Rosa.

“Ellyn?
Hola?
You in there?” Rosa waves her hand in my face.

“Fine.” I take off my apron, hang it on the hook by the door, smooth my black chef's coat over my hips, and then go out to the dining room and fulfill my role—just as Rosa's demanded I do.

Who's the boss here again?

I do my duty
and chat with the Reynolds, who frequent the café when they're at their home here. After saying good-bye, I go back to the kitchen, walk past the large table in the back, and go into the office and close the door.

I pick up the phone without giving myself time to think—or Earl time to reprimand—and punch in the number I now know by heart.

“Hello.”

My heart flutters.

“Hi, Miles. It's Ellyn.”

“Hey, gal. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, fine.” My voice shakes and I pray he doesn't notice. “No rats or anything like that.”

He chuckles. “Well, good. What can I do for you?”

“I . . . I was wondering if I could buy you a cup of coffee?”

He is quiet on the other end of the line for what feels like hours but is, I suppose, only seconds. Then I hear him clear his throat.

“Well, that's a hard offer to refuse.”

It is?

Oh.

“Great. How about meeting me at the café again. I'll bake those cookies you liked.” My fluttering heart spreads its wings and soars.

It is possible God is allowing me a
do-over
?

If so, I plan to do things right this time.

After I hang up the phone, having set a time with Miles, Earl's words come back to me:
Men are all the same.