Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [4]
As usual, anything romantic always reminded Katy of Jake Byler. Growing up, she was sure they’d marry, and because of his daring, often reckless behavior, she had dreamed of sharing an adventuresome life with him. In their teen years, he stared at her with an ardor that melted her toes through her black stockings. He’d give her a dimpled grin or a wink, never embarrassed. Every autumn at the youth hayride, he’d claimed her hand. And after he got his own truck, he took her home from fellowship functions and stole kisses at her back door. She’d always loved him.
Just before he’d graduated from high school, their relationship had started to wilt. Katy grabbed a watering pitcher and marched to Mrs. Beverly’s poinsettia. Her employer was as clueless about plants as Katy was about relationships. Had she caused him to become restless and distant?
Without addressing the status of their relationship or so much as an apology, Jake had enrolled at Ohio State University and moved near the campus in Columbus. After that, he often skipped church and always avoided her. Then one fateful evening—the night of the incident—he finally stopped coming to church altogether.
Even though rumors circulated that he drank and dated a wild girl with spiked short hair and a miniskirt, Lil continued to defend her cousin. But Katy deemed Jake Byler spoiled goods. Lumping him in the forbidden pile along with dancing, television, and neckties didn’t remove the sting and sorrow, but it did help her deal with the situation.
She heard the Beverlys’ car purr out of the drive and glanced out the window at a gray sky that threatened snow. It distressed her that the Beverlys could love like that and not know love’s source. Love like the many times since Jake had dumped her when the Lord had noticed her wet pillow and sent her comforting lyrics to a hymn so she could sleep.
“While life’s dark maze I tread and griefs around me spread, be Thou my guide.…”
The Beverlys had the nativity set; she’d give them that. Her hand slid into her white apron pocket and retrieved a small Christmas card she’d purchased. It had a picture of the nativity scene on the front and a Bible verse inside—John 3:16, her Christmas favorite. But was that enough? She could write something more on the card. Smiling, she drew a pen from a rose-patterned cup.
Katy used her best handwriting. Your love reminds me of God’s love. She complimented them on their beautiful nativity set. It reminds me that Jesus died for our sin so that we can spend eternity with God in heaven. If that piqued their curiosity, they might open that dusty Bible. Surely they pondered eternity at their age, especially as they flew south toward their retirement nest.
She set the card in plain sight beside her house key. Then she put the feather duster in a utility closet and returned to the kitchen with paper towels and a spray bottle.
She spritzed the counter with her special homemade solution and polished, musing over her sudden job predicament. What would Lil say if she backed out of their doddy house plans because she could no longer afford it? She buffed a small area until it mirrored her clenched lips. She relaxed her grip. It wouldn’t do to rub a hole in Mrs. Beverly’s granite countertop right before a Realtor plunked a sign in her yard. Surely the poor old woman had enough to worry about.
Katy loosened the pressure of her seat belt with her left thumb and flicked on her headlights to stare through the Chevrolet’s windshield at the silent twirling flakes. Since the news of her job loss earlier in the day, her stomach had worked itself into to a full boil. She veered off the country road onto a crackling driveway, where golden light streamed through the lacy windows of a white two-story.
Megan lived with her parents on the weekends and during school breaks. Otherwise, she lived on campus at