15. Heather

“ G od, give me wisdom. Give me answers.”

But as her wedding date grew closer, all Heather heard from her beloved Father was…silence. She’d prayed, she’d listened, she read the Word of God, she dug through old sermon notes. Nothing gave her the guidance she needed.

She had no idea how to handle the family that used to be her in-laws, how to show them the grace of Jesus, honor their status in her life, and include them in what should be a happy day…but might not feel like that to them.

Was the reason she didn’t know how or even if she should invite them to her wedding the obvious one? Because it was too soon for her to remarry.

That was at the very core of her discomfort, and it was that doubt and disturbance that woke her up at night and made her wonder if the Holy Spirit was trying to tell her something.

Should she invite them to the wedding? What was protocol? What was the best thing for this family? If they came, would it be awful? If they didn’t, would she and the kids lose them forever?

The fact was, she didn’t particularly want Drew’s sister there, but Blanche deserved an invitation, even though she’d likely not come. And Grandpa Andy? He could fly alone, easily. But would he want to? Drew had an aunt and uncle and a few distant cousins on his mother’s side, but she wouldn’t bother to invite them.

She stared at the phone and the short guest list in front of her, then checked her watch, knowing Blanche would likely be finishing up her non-stop meetings right about now.

Marc had baseball practice for at least another hour, and Kenny, the team’s assistant coach, was dropping him off and staying for dinner. Maddie and Ava were racking up their service hours volunteering at the local library, so this really was her opportunity to make the dreaded phone call.

Leaning back from the small kitchen desk that she used to run her household business, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Was this the right thing, the right time?

With a slow, deep breath, she hit her phone contacts, found Blanche, and tapped the speaker button so she could move around the kitchen and burn off nervous energy as they talked.

“Hello, Heather.” Blanche answered on the first ring, erasing Heather’s high hopes that God—and Blanche—might give her voicemail.

“Hey, Blanche.” She infused warmth into her voice. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

She waited a beat for the normal response—“How are you, Heather?”—but Blanche was dead silent.

“Good, good,” Heather said as if she had asked. “Um, are you busy?”

Blanche snorted. “Am I awake? I live busy, Heather.”

Of course she did. “And Andy? How’s he?”

“Don’t get me started.”

“Oh, is everything okay?” Heather asked, rising to get cold water for her parched throat. “Is he sick?”

“He’s not well, that’s for sure.”

He wasn’t? “What’s wrong?”

“Hold on, I’m leaving a meeting. Let me find a place to sit down.”

Heather could hear the click of high heels and pictured Blanche Henderson in a sharp business suit, her dark bobbed-cut hair swinging as she walked with the confidence of someone who knew she was important and respected.

Had Heather ever walked through a room with that much swagger? Blanche didn’t know the meaning of humility, and Heather pretty much wore it as her only outfit.

Drew’s older sister by less than two years was the quintessential driven and successful career woman. She’d been married briefly, though Heather had never met her husband. It hadn’t lasted because he’d wanted children, and she adamantly did not.

Now, Blanche curled her lip at the very idea of a man in her life. Fiercely independent and downright disdainful of stay-at-home moms, Blanche was driven by her ambition and success. Heather respected that, but it sure seemed like an empty life to her.

Still, she reminded herself as she waited, it wasn’t her place to judge the woman, only to love her and show her the love of the Lord—no matter how challenging that was.

“All right, I have about two minutes before my next appointment,” Blanche said, slightly breathless. “Crazy day, honestly. Just wall to wall sales calls and problems to solve. What did you need?”

Heather came back to the desk with a bottle of water, feeling very much like Blanche’s next problem to solve. “You were going to tell me about Andy. He’s not well?”

“He’s a mess and his doctor, who’s a genius, by the way, thinks Dad needs a sleep study, ASAP.”

“Oh?” Heather frowned, parsing the words, as she balanced the phone on her desk and listened through the speaker. “A mess? What are his symptoms?”

“The man doesn’t sleep, Heather. He’s got so many aches and pains and bags that could carry groceries under his eyes. I know sleep apnea when I see it—or hear it, as I did when he stayed in my guest suite—and I finally got him in to see the best sleep expert in Charleston. There are ways to fix this.”

Heather winced, knowing Blanche’s go-to for every possible situation was to address the problem with pharmaceuticals. They had their place in the world, no question, but Heather always hoped for a natural solution first.

“He needs a CPAP machine,” Blanche finished.

At least it wasn’t a drug. “I think I know what that is. Very uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

“There you go, always with the negative,” Blanche shot back. “He’ll deal with it and live longer because he sleeps better. But in the meantime, I have to drive him to the sleep study and pick him up at an ungodly hour and?—”

“He can’t drive himself?” Heather asked.

“And risk a seizure at the wheel?”

“A seizure? Has he had one?”

“No, but sleep apnea can bring them on. It’s a very common side-effect. Never mind, you don’t have the healthcare background I do. Why did you call?”

Healthcare background? The woman was a pharma rep, not a physician’s assistant. Heather pushed the unkind thought away and cleared her throat.

“Well, I’m calling because we’ve set the date and we’re having a small wedding in a few?—”

“No, thank you. Next question?”

Did she have to be that horrible? Heather swallowed the lump in her throat and took a sip, gathering her thoughts.

“If you don’t want to come, I understand,” she said. “But I didn’t want to be rude and not invite you or Andy, so maybe I’ll just call him.”

Blanche waited a beat, then replied with a noisy sigh. “Heather, listen to me and listen good, okay? You are rude—getting married less than two years after my dear brother died is beyond rude. It’s actually offensive and nothing short of reprehensible, if you ask me.”

Well, she hadn’t asked her. Heather just closed her eyes and took the tongue-lashing, since it wasn’t nearly over. She didn’t want to offend anyone or act reprehensibly , but?—

“I’m not going to your so-called wedding, and neither is my father.”

Her so-called?—

“If you wanted to make our lives better, Heather Monroe, you would come back and help with the burden of caring for my aging father.”

“Blanche, Andy is only seventy. He’s not aging.”

“You don’t know how sick he is!” she practically shrieked. “And I don’t want to have this conversation. Goodbye and good luck. I guess I’m supposed to say ‘best wishes’ for a wedding. Well, my wish is that my brother was still alive, but we can’t all get what we want, can we?”

With that, the phone went dead, like a punch in the gut.

“No, Mom, we can’t.”

She whirled around at the sound of Marc’s voice, gasping at the sight of him in his practice uniform, standing in the door from the garage. Was he constantly eavesdropping these days? She bit back the question and settled on something that wouldn’t cause a fight.

“You’re home early.”

“Coach cancelled practice because there’s a storm coming. Kenny stayed in his truck to take a call. What is sleep… what nea? Just how sick is Grandpa?”

She closed her eyes on a grunt. “He’s not sick, honey, he’s?—”

“You heard her, Mom! He has to go to specialists and can’t drive.”

“He can?—”

“I don’t get why you don’t care about him!”

She shot up. “I do care about him, Marc! That’s why I called. I want him at the wedding so very much, but I thought I should talk to her first since she’s like a gatekeeper. I’ll call him myself?—”

“Just leave him alone,” he fired back.

“Do not talk to me that way.”

“Sorry, Mom, but hearing your voice upsets him.”

“Grandpa? What? Why? How do you know that?”

“He told me,” he said, toeing off his cleats to kick them into the mudroom behind him.

“He told you my voice upsets him?”

“It reminds him of Dad,” he said, heading to the refrigerator. “I think I do, too, but in a good way.”

“And I remind him…in a bad way?”

“It just makes him sad, I guess.”

And the hits just kept on coming. She crossed her arms and swallowed, uncertain how to handle this while Marc stared into the fridge, silent for a long while.

“I don’t know, Mom,” he finally said, pulling out the ubiquitous container of milk and heading toward the cabinet to get a glass. “He just said it once.”

“Said what?” she pressed.

“That it was hard to hear you laugh because…honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to call him.”

“Can I talk to him?”

He spun around, his eyes full of hurt. “Kenny said we can’t consider moving back.”

She didn’t quite get the change of subject, but she knew her fiancé had made a promise to have that conversation with Marc, and she knew he’d keep that promise.

“He said it doesn’t feel like a good time to consider something like that.” He shrugged then turned back to pour his milk. After filling the glass, he walked to the pantry, opened the door and did the staring thing again.

“You understand that, don’t you, honey?” she asked.

Huffing out a breath, he closed the door without getting anything, or answering the question.

“I brought brownies from the café,” she said, stepping to the table to pick up the overflowing Tupperware she’d snagged from work.

“I’m fine. I have to do homework.” He took the glass, left the milk on the counter, and walked out.

She stood stone still for a long time, then put the milk away and went out to the garage.

Clouds had moved in, darkening the sky, but she could see Kenny in his truck in the driveway, talking on his cell. As he caught sight of her, he gestured emphatically for her to join him.

She walked out, feeling the first drops of rain, then pulled the passenger door open.

“She’s right here, Pastor.”

Was he talking to Pastor Allen? Frowning, she climbed into the truck. “Can you hold for one second, Pastor? Thanks.” He tapped the phone, presumably muting the call. “Practice was cancelled. There was some lightning like twenty miles away, but the good news is that Pastor Allen can squeeze us in now for the premarital meeting we have to have for him to marry us. Can you…” He inched back. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Someday, she’d learn to keep her emotions off her face. Not today, apparently. “I’m…yeah. I’m fine. A meeting right now?” She glanced down at her jeans and sneakers. “I guess.”

“He doesn’t care what you’re wearing, Heather. He had a cancellation, and we should take it. An hour or so, at the most, since he knows us so well. Marc’s okay alone.” He squinted at the sky. “This’ll blow over fast.”

“Oh, I know, I know.” She exhaled, not certain she wanted to quietly sit and be counseled on marriage right now, but then…God always opened the doors He wanted you to walk through. “Of course. We can go now.”

“Perfect.” He started to tap the phone, but he moved his hand toward her and lightly touched her chin, lifting it. “It’s going to be okay, Heather. Trust the process.”

She smiled. “I’ll get my bag and tell Marc we’re leaving.”

As she walked inside, she sighed and thought about the hour ahead—a long hour about the holiness of marriage.

Maybe she’d get her answer there. After all, it was church.

Pastor Allen Armstrong was one of the most calming and kind men that Heather had ever met. Nothing riled him—except salvation, of course—or made him lose a gentle, honest sense of humor.

Well into his sixties and the pastor of Our Redeemer for nearly half of those years, Heather would have expected him to be a little bored during the process of preparing a couple to join in a holy, Christ-based marriage. On the contrary, Pastor Allen practically vibrated with the joy of his mission.

Or maybe that was the window in his office, shaking as a noisy thunderstorm rolled over the Lower Keys.

“Ephesians!” he announced, the fifth of such direction through the Bible.

His counseling was simple—taking the Word of God, identifying the scriptures that addressed the very foundation of a Christian marriage, and directing Kenny and Heather to read and pray together during the time leading up to their wedding.

That was it—no ministerial advice, no structural guidelines, no dos and don’ts. Just chapters and verses to read and consider.

“Ephesians Chapter Five holds the key to a lasting and loving marriage,” he said.

“‘Wives, submit to your husbands,’” Kenny said, shifting in his seat without even tapping the Bible app on his phone.

Heather slid him a slightly surprised look as she turned a page of her much more traditional version of the Good Book. “Look at you, memorizing,” she teased.

“It was one of, uh, Elise’s favorites,” he explained with the wistful smile he always used when speaking of his late wife. “When we disagreed on something or even had differing opinions, she’d say, ‘Wives, submit to your husband,’ and give in. Then I’d probably back off because, well, the next verse is, ‘Husbands, love your wives.’”

“See the difference?” Pastor Allen asked. “God asks men to love and women to submit, but not in the way we think of ‘submission.’ He’s saying that in a Christian home, the man does lead, but he leads with love. And you’re called to respect him. Are you good with that, Heather?”

She thought about that, turning to stare at the downpour that obliterated the view of a cloud-darkened parking lot. For a moment, she drifted back to her own marriage, her own late spouse, and what shaky ground that marriage had been on.

Drew had not led with love. He’d led with bullheaded certainty that he was right about everything. Sometimes that was fun—he had an adventurous spirit and demanded they “seize the day” so often, both kids could yell, “Carpe diem!” by the time they were four. No, he didn’t quote scripture, but he knew every line from Star Wars and Dodgeball .

Had she respected him? Mostly, she’d stewed with resentment because she felt that, deep down, he didn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved.

The way Kenny loved her.

“It’s complicated,” she finally said. “I’m not sure I completely understand the concept of submission in the Biblical sense, but will compromise do?”

Pastor Allen smiled. “It’s close. The real meaning of the word is to, well, be a team player because you are now on a team together.”

She nodded and looked down, but the words on her Bible blurred as unexpected tears welled. She’d blamed Drew for so many things, from his short temper to his ardent atheism to the way he brought out the worst in her.

But she hadn’t fought to bring God into that marriage, not even in the end when she’d become “Christian curious.” She certainly hadn’t been a team player many times. Yes, when he was sick, she’d cared for him, but maybe she hadn’t been a good wife. Maybe getting married eighteen months after he died was another example of that.

Maybe she was rushing into this marriage only because it was so, so different from the last one.

“And the final place I want you to go in this book is First Thessalonians,” the pastor said, pulling her from her deep, dark thoughts. “Chapter Five, Verse Seventeen.”

She forced herself to concentrate and find the chapter, but then she realized what he’d said and smiled as she flipped the tissue-like pages.

“I actually know that one,” she said. “It was the first verse I memorized because it’s only three words long—‘pray without ceasing.’”

The pastor beamed. “Absolutely. And as God is my witness—and He always is—if you start and end every day in prayer, make every decision after praying, and cover each other with prayers of protection and peace, you cannot fail. And I’m not saying that because it sounds nice—having a prayer life will improve all of your life.”

Without speaking, she and Kenny joined hands again, and she felt his strong fingers thread with hers and tighten the grip.

“You have my word, Heather. That’s how I want to live with you.”

Swallowing hard, she looked into his eyes and saw the tears that she felt in her own. How could she not marry this man?

“I feel like this union is blessed,” the pastor said, softly breaking into the moment. “And it will be my honor to marry you in, what? Just a few weeks, right?”

“Three weeks tomorrow,” she said.

“Not a moment too soon,” Kenny said sweetly.

But was it? Was it too soon?

The pastor stood and reached out a hand to both of them, offering to close the session in prayer.

As he spoke, though, Heather didn’t hear all of the words. She tried. She squeezed her eyes closed, listened to the calming voice, and tried to lift her heart to join in Pastor Allen’s heartfelt request for a blessed marriage that honored God and each other.

But what if it wasn’t blessed? What if?—

A bolt of lightning and simultaneous cannon shot of thunder felt like it shook the whole church, shaking the window glass and frame.

“Whoa.” Pastor Allen laughed softly. “He has spoken.”

Had He? And what was He saying? Was that…a warning ?

She knew better than to even think that. God speaking through lightning bolts and thunder was far more clichéd and really Old Testament, but she’d spent most of this day looking for a word from above. Maybe that was it.

“Would you like to wait for this storm to pass before leaving?” Pastor Allen said as they walked toward his door.

They glanced at each other and Kenny shook his head.

“Let’s get you home to Marc,” he said, misreading her look of worry. “No one wants to be home alone in a storm like this. I’ll go pull the truck under the overhang and pick you up.”

He shook the pastor’s hand and walked out, giving Heather the perfect opportunity to ask what she simply couldn’t bear to bring up while Kenny was here. But here was her chance, so…

“Pastor, I do have one more question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything,” he said.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “You know my husband passed away eighteen months ago, from brain cancer.”

He nodded, quiet.

“Do you…well, please be candid. Do you think we’re rushing this or getting married too soon? Is a year and a half enough time to properly mourn him? Would…Jesus approve?”

He considered the question for a few seconds before answering. “I can’t speak for Jesus. Do you think it’s too soon, Heather?”

“I don’t, no. I love Kenny, and I know we’re going to be together forever. My kids love him, and they’re already like a family with his daughter. I just…want to do the right thing in God’s eyes.”

“He doesn’t have a timeline,” he replied. “He gives you the Holy Spirit for guidance and discernment, so I would urge you to listen. And our Lord shows you the path he wants you to take, but you have to decide whether or not to take it. To do that, you have to trust Him completely and pay attention to all the words and directions He gives you.”

She nodded, knowing all of that already. “How will I know which path, which door is closed, and what is His will? How do I know what’s my voice and what’s His?”

“I promise you, Heather, if your marriage isn’t part of God’s plan, He’ll make that perfectly clear.”

She sighed and gave him an impulsive hug. “Thank you.”

“Just listen and trust Him.”

Holding that thought, she left and followed the hallway toward the side portico where she could see Kenny already parked and waiting for her, rain sluicing over his truck. Without so much as a drop getting on her, she climbed in, noticing that the walk through the parking lot had left him soaked.

But he was smiling from ear to ear.

“Why are you so happy after a run in the rain?”

“Because…” He huffed out a breath. “It hit me like that bolt of lightning that if it hadn’t been for you, I would still be so angry at God. I would still blame Him for my pain and my loss. Without you, I would never have set foot in a church, lifted that book, or said another prayer.”

“Oh, Kenny. You might have, eventually.”

“No,” he said. “It was you. You walked me right back to Him and I’m so grateful. And I’m smiling because I’m marrying you, Heather Monroe. You! Perfect, beautiful, precious you. I probably won’t remember what I’m saying when we exchange vows, but I know what I’m saying right now. I am going to do everything in my power to protect and love you, but first and foremost? This marriage is built on our faith and that will never waver. I promise. I see your doubts. I know your fears.”

“You do?”

“Babe, you’re an open book.” He kissed her lightly. “This marriage is blessed and lasting. Amen?”

Her eyes filled and she leaned over the console to give him a kiss, tunneling her fingers into his hair and pulling him even closer to add pressure.

As they kissed, another bolt of lightning flashed, followed a few seconds later by thunder, a long rumble that shuddered the truck.

Kenny pulled back and gave in to another smile. “See? He agrees.”

“Amen,” she whispered, her prayers finally answered.