A Sundog Moment Read online

  “When Cal held his hand out for me to shake, I will never forget his bright, energetic smile as he looked at me without seeing.

  “There was no return smile on my face. I was livid. I was outraged that God would let this young man lose his sight, and I felt he should have been even more horrified and angry than I was. But he wasn’t.

  “I asked him, with my own indignation making my words tremble, ‘How can you smile like that, after what has happened?’ I was rude and blunt. Why wasn’t he raging and yelling and screeching at the top of his lungs at how wrong this was, at this terrible, terrible loss? This man had far more reason and right than I to be furious.”

  Father Wells shook his head, his wonderment at what had happened next already lightening his demeanor.

  “He sort of laughed under his breath, shrugged, and said it wasn’t so bad. When I pressed him, he looked straight at me as if he could actually see me and started explaining.

  “It was because of what happened, he told me with utter certainty in his voice, that he not only could fully understand his old life but also appreciate his new one. ‘I was surrounded by people who only wanted a piece of me for the sole purpose of furthering their own ambitions,’ he said. Within himself there had always been this incredible need to push forward and up, his unrelenting ambition for total success on his terms or nothing. And despite the fact he achieved so much, it still wasn’t enough. That’s why he continued working hard and playing so destructively. To fill a need he couldn’t name. He was so focused on the next moment, the next goal, the next adventure, he bypassed the moment he was in.

  “‘When I woke after the accident, and realized the loss, what had happened . . . after the doctors told me and left the room, what I remember most vividly was the quiet,’ Cal said. ‘The room was empty, my so-called friends didn’t exist, and my family was en route. For the first time in longer than I can remember, darkness and stillness engulfed me and I was able to see, really see what I had been doing. God, I thought, how am I going to live like this? Mind you, I wasn’t asking God a question, it was simply a figure of speech.

  “‘But suddenly I wasn’t alone. An embrace, like the warmth of a hug, engulfed me. It was incredible! You can’t imagine how I wish I had the words to explain it to you more precisely. But for the first time in my memory, I wasn’t racked by insecurities, wasn’t overwhelmed by this insane desire to achieve. Regardless of what I accomplished, it was simply never enough. Not for me. At that moment, for the first time there was no speculation about what I should do next because, again, for the first time in my life I knew I was right where I was supposed to be. Where I belonged, where God wanted me.’

  “Cal never lost that feeling, not from the moment he first woke up. And he’s never been happier. That’s what he meant when he first told me, ‘It’s not too bad.’ He could say that with certainty because God is with him, and that makes it all completely right.”

  The smile on the rector’s face brightened the church. “And he was correct. It is all right. I’m where I’m supposed to be. And just because I can’t see sun dogs doesn’t make them any less real. I can see them in my mind. I can see the colors in my imagination, and I have to tell you, that is an extraordinary gift. It makes me want to share even more, to let everyone know that God has everything under control. I love the story about the sun dogs; each time anyone sees a sun dog, they see a promise and a warning for change. Extraordinary.

  “As I was preparing for my sermon today, these Scriptures spoke to me in new ways, and I marveled how my little story of the sun dogs intertwined so neatly with the concept of faith. Again, from Hebrews it is written, ‘Faith is the substance of hope, the evidence of things not seen.’

  “I can’t see sun dogs, but I am excited about them. I still want to share that story—when someone happens to let me know there are sun dogs in the sky.

  “I’m still charmed by the idea that God would let His children see His marks in the sky as a message to enjoy the day and the beautiful colors in the sky, but prepare for inclement weather because change is on the way.

  “Are we prepared for changes in our lives? Sometimes it’s only through those changes that God can get our attention. Only through those dark moments can we be still long enough to listen and learn. Sometimes change can lead us into the kind of faith God wants all of us to have. After rereading this passage in Hebrews, it suddenly occurred to me that my little story is something that illustrates faith in a way I never could.

  “When I got to really thinking about it, I realized this was one of the many epiphanies that have happened in my life, when God has put together circumstances to reveal Himself to me. Sun dogs! I know they exist; I’m excited they exist, and I want everyone to know about them! That I can’t see them is beside the point.

  “Each of us, I hope and pray, will discover our own sun dog, a moment so filled with clarity and truth that it will compel us to faith. When the threads of circumstances we have no control over conspire to come together to make a moment larger than itself. They are out there, if we look for them with our eyes and hearts open. God is faithful and we are only asked—simply—to reciprocate. I pray each of you will find your own moments of faith—your own sundog moments. Amen.”

  They stood to recite the ancient Nicene Creed from the Book of Common Prayer; Elizabeth’s face was softened by the glow she felt from listening to the sermon, and she couldn’t wait to go out and search the skies. Father Wells always had a telling story, a personal anecdote to emphasize a bit of Scripture, to somehow make God real. She thought it was wonderful. Throughout the rest of the service, the Communion and the ending prayers, the story kept replaying in her mind and she thought, He’s made faith so much more accessible.

  Following the choir’s recession, Elizabeth followed the others outside, conscious of Michael’s firm grip on her arm.

  People stood in line to speak to Father Wells, and while she waited her turn Elizabeth scanned the skies. Clear and eggshell blue. When the rector caught sight of Elizabeth, he flung open his arms. “Elizabeth! I’ve missed you. I hope your vacation was wonderful,” he said, giving her a brisk hug. Her smile faltered a bit as she realized again that he had not been told.

  “Father Joe, what a wonderful story,” she said. “I just loved it.”

  “I had no idea you were color-blind,” Carol said, her voice deep with sympathy. “It must be horrible. But you’re always so nicely dressed. How on earth do you manage?”

  His eyes twinkled as he gestured to his wife, who was standing and laughing with some other couples farther down the sidewalk. “My lady over there. You see, that’s one of the ways she makes me toe the line. If I don’t, she’s threatened to make me look like a mismatched rainbow.”

  Their laughter drew Estelle Wells closer. She had been standing well within earshot of what her husband had just said. She shook a finger at him and chided, “Telling lies about me again? God’ll get you for that, Joseph, shame on you.” Her grin matched her husband’s as she slid a hand through his.

  “Now, dear, it seems to me you have uttered that threat against me a time or two.”

  “Gee, I don’t recall,” Estelle deadpanned, eyes crinkling as she looked up at him. “I do have one admonishment for you right now, though.” She tried to eye him sternly but couldn’t keep her mouth from quivering. “Stop gossiping!” She gracefully moved on to speak to others lingering on the grounds of the church.

  “I guess she put me in my place,” Joseph Wells murmured to no one in particular as he watched her walk off, his eyes amused.

  “Gordon, why don’t you drive Carol over, and Michael and I will meet you at Brenner’s?” Elizabeth suggested casually as they neared the parking lot.

  No one had a chance to say anything before Carol took control of the moment.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Carol announced firmly, wearing a tiny smile as flat as her voice. “I’ll drive Elizabeth over because she and I need to have some serious girl talk.” She
quickly moved to where Elizabeth was standing and firmly took her arm. “Don’t worry, Michael, I won’t let her fall on anything but me.”

  Then, without listening for an answer, she led an astonished Elizabeth toward her black sports car. “Get in, dear,” Carol ordered as the smile disappeared. Elizabeth did as she was told, confused. As soon as Carol got in, Elizabeth turned. “What on earth is the matter?”

  Instead of answering, Carol gunned the car out onto the road and quickly shifted into high gear as she sped away.

  When she spoke at last Carol’s voice was tired but angry. “I told you before, I don’t want to be part of a foursome. Ever. Did you forget?” Her voice was like ice.

  Stung, Elizabeth gaped. “This isn’t a foursome! It’s a . . . a chance meeting among friends. I didn’t know Gordon was coming today. You, Michael, and I were going to brunch, remember? I suppose I should have just said, ‘So long, see you later, we’re going out to eat, but we’re not inviting you because my cousin doesn’t want to be around you or anyone else who happens to be male.’ Is that what I should have done? Come to think of it, I suppose I should tell Michael to go home and leave us alone, too. Is that what you want?”

  Carol punched the gas as the car darted onto the interstate. “You always were a rotten liar.” Carol ignored the logic of what Elizabeth said.

  The silence grew until it became too loud to ignore. Elizabeth suddenly was drained, that brief burst of anger having evaporated the energy that had been humming inside her since the service.

  “Fine. Whatever you say. I’m sorry you misunderstood. And I promise I won’t do anything like that to you. But I didn’t this time. For the record, this wasn’t planned. I really, really didn’t know he was coming.” She waited until Carol pulled up to the valet parking before she asked tentatively, “You are going to at least eat with us, aren’t you?”

  Carol drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited impatiently for the attendant to come around the car to get the keys. She shook her head. “I’m not staying.” Then, to the attendant, “My friend needs to be escorted to the restaurant, she has a walking impairment. Friends will be meeting her soon.” She handed him the twenty-dollar bill she had just dug out of her purse. “See that she gets there safely.”

  “Absolutely,” the young man said, hurrying around to the passenger side.

  “Carol.” Elizabeth couldn’t believe it. But before she could say more, she was already being helped out of the car. She belatedly bit her lip as she watched the little car fly away.

  “Ma’am?” The attendant held out his arm. Exasperated, she knew there was no choice but to be escorted into the building. She would have to wait for the others. Impatiently, she wondered how she was going to fix this.

  Within her elegant house in the city, Carol stayed in constant motion. It had been that way ever since she’d left Elizabeth at the restaurant. She refused to think any more about it, which was her way of coping with most things these days. She just didn’t want to think, because thinking might lead to feeling.

  Since that moment when her schmuck of an ex-husband betrayed her, she had ceased to think beyond the moment she was in. Feelings were not allowed because they were just too dangerous. Action had replaced thought; first, the divorce—getting everything she wanted, and then coming back home to her roots. Everything else was coasting.

  One more abdominal crunch, then another and another . . . then she jumped up and reset the treadmill for another mile. She alternated. When she got too tired, she’d stop awhile and read some pleasantly boring nonfiction self-help book that inspired no passion.

  She easily avoided the computer terminal set up for God knew what reason. She had no intention of writing again; that would involve thought that would provoke . . . other things. She purposely kept herself too busy for any serious thoughts to snag her soul. She paused at different moments to pour another glass of wine.

  Through the late afternoon, as the sun started its slow descent westward, Carol kept to this routine, until the front doorbell buzzed loudly. And then again. And again.

  Annoyed, she looked through the glass surrounds of the front door and her face darkened visibly.

  “I don’t want any visitors,” she said tersely, only slightly opening the door, staring at Dr. Gordon Jones carrying two large Styrofoam boxes.

  “I’m here on a mission of mercy,” he informed her with the friendliest of smiles. “You didn’t want to eat with us, but that’s okay. You still have to eat and from what I can see, you haven’t been doing much of that. Now, I’m just the delivery boy. Let me drop these off, and I’ll be on my way.”

  She looked at him and was prepared to send him on his way with the boxes in hand, but a whiff of something delicious stopped her—Was that eggs with garlic?

  Her stomach growled loudly, suddenly making her remember she had not eaten anything today beyond morning toast. There hadn’t been much eaten yesterday either, come to think of it. Delicious scents were making her mouth water.

  But she was suspicious. “Do you promise you’ll just drop them off and leave?”

  “Scout’s honor.” He nodded. She thought she smelled hot buttered toast; was that roasted potatoes? In a decisive gesture, she flung open the door.

  “You probably were never a Scout,” she muttered, letting him pass, following closely behind him, the tantalizing smells of food beckoning.

  Gordon walked in through the foyer and took a left, heading through the yellow dining room, guessing correctly the kitchen was toward the back.

  Carol frowned, wondering why she hadn’t stopped him at the door and simply taken the boxes.

  A few more steps and he set the food down on the kitchen table. His glance took in the natural tones of granite counters, the matching island, and the well-equipped kitchen. “Nice.” He smiled, approving. He turned as she walked toward him. “Now, I didn’t bring coffee,” he said with apology. “Would you like me to brew some?” His manners and his polite gesture weren’t expected.

  The shake of her head was decisive. “No, but thanks, this is more than enough. And after all, you have to be on your way . . . remember? Scout’s honor?” She watched in disbelief when he began opening cabinet doors to find a plate, which he set out on the table, next to the boxes. Another foray into the drawers and he placed the fork, knife, and spoon next to the plate.

  “Do you have any juice? I’ll pour,” he offered and then added with a wry smile, “You were right, I was never a Scout.”

  “Scout or not, it’s time for you to leave, Gordon.” She started toward him and watched him put up his hands.

  “Fine. Just give me a minute. I’ve got two things to say to you.” He watched as she stopped in front of him and folded her arms, irritation highly visible in that stance. He noted the irritated face that reflected the body language.

  “Well?”

  He drew in a long breath and let it out. “I did not. Elizabeth did not. You misconstrued.”

  She never blinked. “I misconstrued?”

  He leaned against the counter and she wondered how he could seem so at ease, knowing he wasn’t wanted.

  “There was no setup. She didn’t know I was going to be there. I didn’t know I was going to be there until last night when I got the call from my friend asking if we could switch.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she examined his face and saw no deceit, but that was irrelevant. She knew some of the best actors in the world and how they could lie. Her ex-husband was one of them. “How do I know you aren’t just a good liar?” she asked, trying to push Elizabeth’s startled face out of her mind.

  “You’d have to get to know me better”—he smiled—“but you’ve just gotten a divorce. You’re not ready for a relationship. And neither am I, frankly. So, if you want to get to know me, it will have to be strictly as friends, absolutely nothing more.” He continued looking at her, his hands now resting easily on the counter behind him.

  “You just had a divorce, too?” Surely Eliza
beth would have mentioned it—or maybe she would have if given the chance, Carol thought a little guiltily. She suddenly realized that although his name had been mentioned throughout her lifetime as someone she had once known, she didn’t know the first thing about him now.

  He answered her question by shaking his head. The statement was quiet. “No. Allison died fourteen months ago. Cancer.”

  Carol felt the air being knocked out of her with that one horrible word. One hand caught the top of a ladder-back chair as the other pressed hard against her heart, and she felt so sorry, but that was okay. It was a neutral emotion that didn’t drag her spiraling downward because it was directed at someone else.

  Her voice was direct and sincere. “I’m so sorry, Gordon, I had no idea! I . . . you must think I’m an idiot. I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry . . .”

  “Nah, don’t be. I’m sorry enough for both of us. And I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think you’re hurting, perhaps in a different way, but pain is pain. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay.” She wondered again at his calmness. His words really touched her.

  “You’re . . . okay?” Again there was that steadiness that intrigued. Was it possible to get through such misery and survive?

  His answer was slow and thoughtful. “It’s okay. I’ve gotten over the shock of no longer having her. Sort of.” There was the lopsided grin. “Allison and I, well, we had a few years, really good years, despite fighting the disease. That part’s all right. I do miss her. I don’t think that will ever change.”

  His voice was direct, without shading. It was as he said it was and no more. No actor or liar could do that.

  “Here, sit down. I’ll make us both some coffee. While it’s brewing will you forgive me for eating this wonderful food you brought, or will you share some . . . no?”

  “Thank you, no. Coffee would be wonderful.” He sat down.