A hollowness crept higher in his chest. His well-ordered life was spinning out of control. Years since the insecurity of his childhood and memories of his parent’s volatile relationship had surfaced, tonight he felt he was back there … like that young unwanted, unsure little boy.
Why did Matt feel undone? Restless? And why the intense ache to see if Anna was okay, as if something was amiss?
A grocery store came into view, and he cranked the wheel into the parking lot. Not a store he normally frequented, but it would do. He needed a few things, and any distraction was better than his gnawing need.
With a basket in hand, he loaded up on vegetables and toiletries and headed for the check out.
“Hey, aren’t you Doctor Carmichael?” the cashier asked.
Matt looked up from his task of emptying his grocery basket and recognized a face he had met at Steven’s funeral. He rarely forgot a name. “Marcia, isn’t it?”
She beamed. “I can’t believe you remember me.”
Matt smiled. “But of course, you sang at Steven’s memorial service, didn’t you?”
Marcia nodded. “We all go to the same church.”
“How is Anna?” Matt asked nonchalantly, though his heartrate kicked up a notch.
“Oh, my gosh, like you will never believe it. What a miracle. But oh, how dreadfully sad all at the same time.”
Matt didn’t understand a word, but he was in the fast lane with a portly lady behind him clucking her tongue at their chit chat. It was time to tender his order, and knew he was holding up the line, but needed to know.
“What’s sad?”
“Like the whole thing … Steven dying and now the fact she’s—”
“Marcia, less socializing! Your lineup is out into the aisle and customers aren’t happy.”
Marcia rolled her eyes but snapped into action. She handed Matt his bag and receipt. “Nice to see you again, Doctor. I’ve got a solo part in the choir this Sunday, if you’re interested.” She smiled sweetly and turned her attention to the next customer.
Matt carried his bag to the car, more troubled than ever. What had that conversation meant?
Marcia had planted a seed. If he went to church on Sunday he would indeed see Anna for himself.
“God, I have no idea if you’re up there or not, but since Anna seems to think you are … it would take a miracle to work out my schedule so I can get to church this Sunday. Can you help me?”
He had to sweet talk another doctor into working his Sunday shift with his coveted hockey tickets.
The whole time he prepared, he hoped good sense would prevail, and he would find the strength to talk himself out of such irrational behavior. Not this time. He needed to see her. His heart began to buck at the thought.
“What do I wear, Abby?” he mumbled to his cat that lay stretched on his neatly made bed. “What do you think the Sunday crowd wears these days?”
Abby slid her eyes closed.
Part of him wanted to look his best just in case a chance meeting happened, but above all he wanted to dispel the nonsense that something was wrong.
He dressed with care, glad he had picked up his favorite shirt and pants from the dry cleaners the day before. Not too dressy and yet not too casual. He slid a tie into his pocket, just in case and gave one last glance into the mirror. He picked a fleck of lint off his sleeve and slipped into his jacket. “Well, Abby, here goes.”
Abby’s eyes squinted open but only for a second.
He had done a little research online and found that the First Baptist Church was not one of those mega churches he had seen on TV. The congregation just big enough he wouldn’t stand out, yet small enough he could find Anna.
He left early to allow ample time to get there but planned to wait until just before the service to enter. The surrounding area was quite different from his end of town, where million-dollar homes were perched on the side of a mountain. He rather liked the warmth of character that radiated from the small, older homes, where mature trees and trailing red roses draped over the white picket fences. Small front porches had the welcome of a bygone era when life had been less harried and neighbors took time to visit.
Situated in a part of town that typified the average income of a blue-collar worker, the church had an old-world charm with brick and a steeple. He began to relax as he climbed the steps of the church. Along one side, an addition had been built to house what looked like a gym or banquet hall, but the architect had tastefully kept the original building intact and added a brick foundation to tie it all together. The double wooden doors, open to the breeze, created an inviting entry. After a warm handshake at the entrance by a perfect stranger and hug from a little old lady standing in the wings, Matt slid into a seat at the back of the church. As planned, his timing was perfect. He blended into the gathering crowd without a hitch.
His heart sank when he couldn’t find her. He tried to stretch above the congregation without bringing attention to himself. A dismal thought entered. What if he’d gone through all this trouble and she was absent? It hurt just to think of the possibility.
Then his eyes fell upon her. There she sat in the third row of the choir. A large man positioned himself in front of Matt creating a perfect set up. He could stay hidden, yet stare at her at leisure. He had to admit, she did look wonderful.
When they stood to sing, Matt could barely see her face peek out from the crowd. Thankfully, she’d put on some weight. That gaunt look was gone. He smiled.
The temptation to talk to her vanished. She was fine. He wished he could sneak out unnoticed. He had his answer. She
