So that website you got. You can ask it any question, and God answers back?” The scrawny young boy stared at Chelsea from across the counter.
Thankfully the weather had warmed since the last time Marcus was in. So had the boy’s countenance, especially after hearing that God might be waiting on the other side of Chelsea’s blog.
“Well . . .” Chelsea weighed her words. “That is what I hear. Although I’ve never tried it. How are you, Marcus?”
“I’m fine,” the boy said as he counted every nickel and dime from his pockets.
“Your mom still drinking a triple breve?”
“Yeah, but how’d you know?” Marcus’s eyes were half closed in suspicion.
“I have a knack for remembering things.” Chelsea sighed. “Everything actually.” She scooped up the boy’s change without counting. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school, Marcus?”
“I homeschool,” he said, casting his eyes to the floor. Now it was Chelsea’s turn to be suspicious.
She handed Marcus the triple breve for his mom, a hot chocolate for him, and a few scones for the road. “These are on the house. You come and see me anytime, okay?”
“Wow, thanks, ma’am!”
As Marcus walked out the door, Chelsea was greeted by another familiar face.
“Deb! It’s good to see you again! Just the other day, Sara and I found an old photo of your fourth-grade crush. Hilarious!”
Deb managed a slight smile. “Hi, Chelsea. It’s lovely to see you.” Deb exuded her usual posh vibe—tailored black dress, elegant silver jewelry, complementing accessories. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks, Deb.” Though Chelsea wondered how her old friend could see anything from beneath her thick designer sunglasses. “How have you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Oh, things have just been so busy, you know? I’d love a double shot of espresso and one of your mini scones.”
As Manny and Katrina went to work on her order, Chelsea gambled a more sincere question. “You sure you’re doing okay?”
“Oh . . .” Deb toyed with her wedding ring. “Do you think—”
“Delivery for Mrs. Chambers!” The arrival of a gigantic bouquet of yellow roses spoiled the moment.
“I can see you’re doing well!” Deb said.
Chelsea rolled her eyes for dramatic effect. “If only my life were so rosy!” She put the bouquet aside and leaned toward Deb, hoping to continue their conversation. “Do I think what?”
“Do you think . . .” But the moment had passed. “Do you think I could use your Internet? I’ve been hearing some crazy things!”
“Of course. Anything you need.”
While Deb secluded herself at a small tea table, Chelsea stole her own private moment in the nearly finished parlor. She plucked the note from the bouquet, then sat in her mother’s old recliner to read it.
Are there any plans in the works for Hancock’s birthday? Can’t believe our boy is turning thirteen! P.S. Is this against the rules?
Chelsea tapped her fingers against the floral card stock. Was this against the rules? She couldn’t be sure. It occurred to her that as she moved forward with the divorce, she’d need to make lots of new rules. She had no idea where to start. For a passing moment she considered seeking advice from the God Blog. But she knew better. In fact, she could probably predict the answer. Wasn’t it Jesus who said something about loving your enemies?
No thanks. Chelsea could write her own rule book for now.
“I don’t even know what to ask. I’ve let my family down. I have so many secrets, and the guilt is killing me.”
Chelsea listened as a sassy hipster read some of the sadder entries from the God Blog to a table of fellow hecklers. Ordinarily Chelsea didn’t mind when her patrons read aloud from the blog. Plenty of people experienced a surge of hope and encouragement after visiting the site. But this mean-spirited intrusion struck a raw nerve with Chelsea.
After a bout of laughter, the girl continued with the answer.
“I know all your secrets, even the one tucked inside your wallet. If you only knew the gift I have for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water. I would cleanse you from the inside out. I love you. I always have, and I always will. God”
Chelsea was glad the unfortunate entry didn’t have a name associated with it. She scanned the café, wondering if the anonymous question had originated from her old friend. But Deb was no longer there.