Hope completed Mrs. Holland’s prayer shawl late Friday evening. After breakfast the next morning, she brought up Sean Holland’s number and pressed send.
“Hello, Hope. You don’t mind if I call you that, right?”
She stifled a giggle. “Nope, that’s my name. I just wanted to let you know that your mother’s shawl is complete.”
“Great.” There was a silent pause. “Do you…I mean, could I…?” Sean cleared his throat.
“Mr. Holland, I’m free all day if you would like to take it to your mother today.”
“Sean.”
“Excuse me?”
“If I’m going to call you Hope, then you have to call me Sean.”
“Okay, Sean.” Heat flushed her cheeks. She swallowed. “Just tell me when you want to go and give me directions to your mother’s house.” Hope slid a notepad over and picked up a pen.
“Oh, no, let me pick you up.”
She bit her lip and sucked in a breath. “All right.”
“How about around eleven?”
“That’s fine.” Hope rattled off her address.
The call ended, but she stared at the phone. Should she have agreed to let Sean pick her up? She gnawed her bottom lip. How was this going to look? Just the two of them showing up at his parent’s house? Her stomach fluttered. She reprimanded herself. Sean didn’t mean anything by this. He simply wanted the two of them to deliver the shawl together.
Hope jumped to her feet and sprinted to her bedroom. She needed something more than the comfortable clothes she had on. Finally, she settled on black slacks and a long-sleeved rose-colored blouse. She touched up her makeup and fluffed her hair. She stopped and grinned at her reflection. Why was she making such a fuss? This wasn’t a date. Far from it.
* * *
Sean pulled into a space at Hope’s apartment building. He sighed and shook his head. What in the world had he been thinking when he insisted on picking Hope up? Did she consider him forward? He was used to dating the women he knew. This was—what?
Movement in front of the car caught his eye. Was that Hope? The scrubs she had worn at the hospital didn’t do her justice. Her black slacks and rose blouse accented her slim body. Her light brown hair hung around her shoulders, sporting blonde highlights that glinted in the sun.
Sean fumbled with his car door. He finally opened it and jumped out. “Hey, I guess you’re ready.”
Hope flashed a smile. Her teeth were perfect. Sean cleared his throat to cover the fact that he was staring. Mesmerized. He rushed past her to open the passenger side door. As she ducked inside, she bowed her head slightly and her lashes fluttered. His heart flip-flopped. Making his way to the driver’s side, he took a deep breath and let it out. He scolded himself for his reaction.
He slid into his seat and backed the car from the spot. The silence was awkward. A question came to his mind. “How much do I owe you for the shawl?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you asked me.”
Had he offended her? His parents’ house came into view. “Here we are.”
Before they made it all the way up the walk, Sean’s mother opened the front door, and waited in the threshold. “Hey, sweetheart.” She hugged him. Sean stepped back. His mother embraced Hope.
“So good to see you, Hope. Welcome to our home.” Mother motioned Hope inside.
“Thank you, Mrs. Holland.”
His mother stopped in the entry and looked Hope in the eyes. “It’s Rita.”
Hope smiled. Mother grasped Hope’s hand and led her into the family room. When everyone sat, Hope slid the shawl out of her bag and unfurled it. “Sean wanted you to have a prayer shawl for your upcoming surgery.”
Mother’s eyes widened, and she gazed into her son’s eyes. “Thank you, son.”
Hope stood. “May I?”
Mother nodded.
Hope draped the soothing blue shawl around Mothers’ shoulders and then sat back down. Mother stroked the delicate fringe. Her countenance seemed to soften. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Hope.”
“Could I pray for you, Rita?”
Mother’s eyes were suddenly glassy, and she blinked a few times. Her lips parted momentarily but then closed. She nodded.
Hope grasped mother’s hand and then reached for Sean’s. When he completed the circle by gripping his mother’s other hand, mother and Hope bowed their heads and closed their eyes.
Hope spoke to God as if he were right there in the room. Her words and tone were full of confidence.
Sean sensed a stirring deep inside—like someone lost now found. He shook it off. This was for his mom.
* * *
Hope embraced Mrs. Holland again. “You know I’ll still be praying, especially next Tuesday.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Sean kissed his mother’s cheek. Rita escorted them out and stood on her front porch as Sean jogged in front of Hope, opening the passenger side door. She turned and waved at Sean’s mother and then ducked into the car.
Sean slid into the driver’s side. He paused. “Do you have plans for lunch?”
Hope’s breath caught. What should she say? She never expected Sean to ask her this.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. You probably have things to do.” He started to back from the driveway.
“Lunch sounds good.”
Sean glanced her way and smiled. “Okay. What do you like?”
She shrugged. “I’m not too picky.”
“Mexican?”
“Sure.”
The short drive was quiet. If their meal was this silent, this would be an awkward hour. But, maybe this was God providing an opportunity for Hope to probe Sean’s heart a bit.
They sat at a booth with chips and salsa between them. “Thanks again for making the shawl and going with me.” His tone oozed sincerity.
“I’m truly glad you asked me, so I could pray for your mother. I have great respect for her, especially after being in one of her Bible studies last year. She’s an amazing Bible teacher.”
“She was an amazing English professor, too. Her students raved about her.” He diverted his gaze to his tea glass, stirring the ice with his straw. “She had to give it up. The treatments from her last bout with this left her listless.” His voice trailed off. He sniffed and ran a hand down his face. He looked Hope in the eyes. “People prayed then too.” His tone and expression exuded deep hurt. Accusation emanated from his eyes.
Hope prayed silently for God to help her say the right things. “Your mother seemed to have ultimately come through the first surgery and treatments well.”
Sean leaned his elbows on the table. “And now, she has to go through this again. Did those prayers not stick?” His question held a hint of sarcasm.
“I won’t lead you to believe that I understand God’s ways.”
“But, why? My mother is a church attender and a good person. For goodness sake, she writes Bible studies.”
“Sean, God’s not punishing your mother. Things happen, but God can bring good from it. I know for a fact that your mother has testified that she was meant to retire when she first fought breast cancer.”
Sean rolled his eyes and nodded. “I know, I know. She was then able to write her studies and teach them.”
“Yes, and she’s touched many lives.”
“So, why again?” He shrugged.
“His ways aren’t my ways or his thoughts my thoughts.”
“What does that mean?”
Hope leaned forward. “It means I don’t speak for God.”
Sean’s expression softened. “I just don’t want her to have to go through this again. I hate it for her.”
“Of course you do.”
“Will you be there?”
Hope didn’t know how to respond. His meaning wasn’t clear.
“For the surgery. Can you be there on Tuesday?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.” At the moment she couldn’t recall if she was scheduled to work, but she would switch if need be. Sean’s pleading eyes convinced her to do whatever it took.
A smile lit Sean’s face.
Their food arrived, alleviating some of the conversation’s heaviness.