Gail Martin - Finding Christmas

She tore off a crusty hunk of bread and nibbled on the corner as she watched Benjamin devour the rare steak. The red juice ran onto his plate, making her think of her own life juices that had drained away for so long until she’d started to heal.

Her work had saved her. At Solutions, she delved into other people’s problems. It was easier than dealing with her own issues. She could hand over a well-tuned plan to a customer for developing a new company policy or rejuvenating a sluggish business and feel good about what she’d accomplished. She’d started to feel at least halfway alive again—until she heard Mandy’s cry in her head.

After Benjamin finished his dinner and Joanne maneuvered her food to appear as if she’d eaten, he suggested they leave. They spoke little on the ride home, and when they pulled into her driveway, Joanne didn’t want to part company.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a couple of weeks. Come in for coffee?”

He sat without moving, then turned off the ignition. “Sure. Why not?”

Benjamin followed her inside to the kitchen and slipped his jacket over the back of a chair. “So tell me what else is going on in your life. No dating…so what keeps you busy besides work?”

The question surprised her, and she edged around to face him, holding the canister of coffee. “Not much, but I’m doing okay. Really.” She returned to her task and spooned grounds into the basket, poured in the water and hit the brewing button. When she turned back, he stood behind her, so close she stopped breathing.

“You can’t fool me,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders.

“I—I…” She didn’t want to talk about all the old feelings, and she tried to sum it up in a few words. “It’s hard being a widow, that’s all.”

“I’m sure it is. Life changed for you.”

His searching gaze made her uncomfortable.

“What about your family?” he asked. “Do you see them?”

Her stomach tightened. “No, not really. I went home for Christmas last year but it wasn’t the same. We’ve drifted. They all have their lives.” She stopped herself from saying self-centered lives. “I just don’t relate to them. They seem to avoid most topics as if they’re afraid to remind me I’ve lost a husband and child.”

His hands tightened against her shoulders and his palms warmed her skin through her sweater.

“People can’t handle others’ pain, Joanne. I guess you just have to forgive them.”

She tensed with his comment. Forgiving was something she couldn’t bring herself to do, and it wasn’t only about her parents. Joanne truly felt alone but she’d finally accepted it. She had her work and, lately, her church. Now Benjamin had come back into her life—a real friend. That was all she needed.

“I’m sure the voice bothers you.”

“I’m just jumpy. I’m not sleeping well, afraid I’ll hear the crying again. I can’t explain it, Benjamin. It’s a feeling. It’s hushed, but I sense it, and I don’t understand it.”

“It’s the anniversary, I suppose.”

He backed away and leaned against the counter.

“I know,” she said, watching the coffee drain into the pot. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out two cups, set them on the counter and, when the decaf had brewed, lifted the pot. As she poured, the telephone’s peal startled her. Hot coffee splashed onto her hand and over the counter, searing her skin, and she let out a cry.

“Careful,” Benjamin said, hurrying to her side.

She scooted past him and turned on the cold water, then shoved her hand beneath the tap while the ringing continued.

“Want me to get it?” Benjamin asked, glancing at the phone but seeming more concerned by her burn.

“Please.” She studied her throbbing red skin, as the cool water washed over it, and listened to Benjamin’s voice as he answered the telephone.

“It’s a woman from your office,” he said, holding the receiver out to her. “Do you want to call her back?”

“No. I’ll take it.” She grasped the phone, already guessing what the caller wanted. She listened, then said, “I’ll remember, Nita. Thanks.” Joanne glanced Benjamin’s way and felt an embarrassed grin grow on her face. “No, you didn’t interrupt anything. An old friend is visiting. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She felt uneasy at her friend’s teasing as she hung up the phone and gazed at the reddened flesh of her hand. “I’ll live.”

“This isn’t good, Joanne. You need to calm down. Your blood pressure will be sky high if you panic at every little sound.”

“I can’t help it. The phone rings. Someone knocks on the door. Anything that breaks the silence, I jump. It’s awful.”

Her gaze shifted from his concerned look to the counter, then to the table. He’d already poured the coffee and wiped up the spill. “Thanks,” she said, joining him.

He took her hand in his and eyed the burn. “Should you put something on that?”

“It’s fine.” She withdrew her hand, then lifted the cup, surprised he’d remembered she liked milk in her coffee. “Cheers.”

They clinked cups with a chuckle, then fell silent again. She and Greg had often sat at this table with Benjamin. He’d never married for some reason, and Joanne had often wanted to ask why but had decided it wasn’t her business. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

“After I dealt with my grief, do you know what’s been the hardest for me?” She surprised herself with the question and immediately wished she could draw it back.

“I could never guess. You’ve coped with too much.”

She bit the edge of her lip. Knowing Benjamin’s spiritual strength, she knew she’d brought up a touchy subject. “My faith.”

A scowl settled on his face.

“For the first year, I was angry at God. I couldn’t understand how a loving God could be so cruel. I wanted Greg alive. I wanted Mandy alive. I wanted to see her play with her little friends. I want to know what she looks like now and hold her against me and smell the shampoo in her hair. I know I shouldn’t be angry with God, but it’s been difficult.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. Benjamin reached over and used a finger to brush them away.

“I won’t argue with you, Joanne. You’ve been through so much, but you can’t blame God for all the evil in the world. Sin causes evil, and makes us trip and fall.”

“I know, and I feel ashamed that I’ve had to struggle to face that. Every time I think of my little girl’s body lost somewhere in Lake St. Clair, my heart aches. If only they could have—” She stopped and shook her head.

“Don’t chastise yourself. Remember that God doesn’t promise us a life without sorrow or pain. He does promise He’ll be with us always. We have to have faith.”

“Faith. We’ve gone full circle and we’re back to that. I’m hanging on, dear friend, but sometimes my grip weakens. I do a lot of praying.”

“You can’t go wrong with prayer,” he said, digging into his memory for a Scripture that had risen to the fringes of his mind. “I’m thinking of a verse in Isaiah. ‘Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say: Here am I.’ That’s what prayer is, Joanne. It’s your cry for help, and God hears it. He’s with you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Thanks for reminding me,” she whispered. She raised her coffee cup and took a slow drink, then lowered it. Her expression appeared faraway and thoughtful. “It’s lonely going to church without Greg and Mandy. I still haven’t gotten used to that. If you ever want to join me, let me know.”

“How about this Sunday?”

Her look of gratitude rolled over him and roused his emotions. He’d tried to prepare himself for seeing Joanne again, but he hadn’t succeeded. The feelings he’d bound so tightly had loosened their bonds.