2

U. S. Postal Carrier Raymond Jacobey crossed the street as he watched Rebecca lift the mail to her nose. He smiled. He’d taken over this route less than a month after Mr. Sinclair passed away. From the moment Ray laid eyes on her, the little widow with jet-black hair and eyes so rich in color they reminded him of violets, had captured his heart.

At approximately five-feet-two inches, a raving beauty she was not. Her eyes were a bit too wide-set, but fringed with thick, black lashes that most women would die for. Her cheekbones were too high for the small, baby-like face and, as with most of the women he knew, she constantly battled with those infamous extra ten pounds. But there was something about her slightly rounded figure and soft features that tugged at his heart.

“Morning Ms. Sinclair,” he greeted.

“Hello Mr. Jacobey.” Her voice trembled.

Ray noticed her wavering smile and the haunted look in her eyes. “Are you all right?” Concern skittered across his neck at the paleness of her complexion and the thin sheen of perspiration dotting her forehead.

Rebecca shrugged, swallowed hard. “A little stressed.”

“Anything I can do for you?”

She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, shook her head and smiled. “Weird dreams and voices in the wind.”

“I thought that only happened to me.” He grinned, hoping to relieve a little of her stress.

A charming flush tinted her cheeks. “Well, it’s never happened to me before. Can’t say as I like it either. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

“I’d love one.” Raymond didn’t hesitate. The Sinclair home was the last on his route before lunch. Many times, he’d accepted her offer of coffee or tea, hoping to ease the sting of loneliness that clouded those pretty indigo eyes. He put down his mailbag, sat on the porch swing and waited while she brewed them each a cup.

He’d learned a lot about Rebecca Sinclair in the past year. Married at seventeen, she’d followed her husband across the country during his twenty years in the Air Force. Upon retirement, Jim Sinclair had taken a position at the aircraft plant in Seattle, working as a mechanic on the huge engines used to propel the big jets. Her oldest child, a son named Jeffrey, graduated high school three years ago and moved to New York to pursue an acting career. Her youngest, Debbie, graduated this past May and now attended college in France.

In one of their conversations, Rebecca confided that she’d been shy as a child. Marriage at such a young age and the constant moving during her husband’s Air Force career hadn’t made it easy for her to make or maintain many friendships. Now that her children were grown and there were no more ball games, band concerts, or PTA meetings, she had no idea what to do next.

Raymond’s heart ached for her, and had he the intestinal fortitude to ask—and if she said yes—he’d gladly marry her and give her plenty to do for the rest of her life. Need curled in the pit of his stomach at the thought, and once again he felt the familiar sense of frustration at his own shyness and insecurity.

~*~

In the kitchen, Rebecca brewed a fresh pot of coffee. She knew their visits usually consumed most of his lunch hour, so she made sandwiches and thought about what she’d learned regarding Raymond Jacobey in the last year.

A wanderer at heart, his biggest desire was to see the world. Flat feet kept him out of the military so, fresh out of high school Raymond obtained his first job with the U.S. Post Office in his hometown.

Whenever wanderlust took hold, he’d pick several places on the map, send in resumes, and then wait for a job offer. Once he received one, he’d put in for a transfer and move on to continue his career in a whole new state, city or town, which enabled him to see some of the country in which he resided. He seldom stayed in one place more than a year or so and occasionally took a college course or two, but that was as deep as his roots went in any given place.

In the past eighteen years, he’d lived in fifteen different locations.

Rebecca put away the sandwich ingredients and smiled as Ray’s image swam before her eyes.

He wasn’t a big man, five-feet-eight-inches or so and though not male model material, he was incredibly cute and sweet. His sandy-blond hair constantly needed a trim, but he always sported a smile and his gold-flecked green eyes danced with humor and joy. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscular, not bulging but well-proportioned for his height. His legs were slender and well-toned from the walking he did, and he sported a healthy tan all year around.

Little did he know it, but he’d saved her life more than once in the past year. He’d always made a point of talking with her and never left the mail without making sure she was up and about and doing OK. He’d stayed to share a cup of coffee with her on more than one occasion.

She had a hunch his feelings for her went deeper than plain friendship, but having been married over half of her life, Rebecca had no idea what to do or how she felt in return. One thing was certain; with his friendly smile and laughing green eyes, she looked forward to seeing him every day, especially now that Debbie was off to school.

She poured the coffee in a decorative carafe to keep it hot and placed it on a large serving tray alongside cups, sugar and cream, the sandwiches, and two glasses of milk.

As she walked back out on the porch, his smile welcomed her. Ray rose from the swing, took the tray and set it on the small patio table, and then waited for her to curl up in the rocking chair as she usually did before taking his seat once more.

He reached for a sandwich and glass of milk. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” “It’s no trouble, makes me feel useful and needed again” Her voice cracked with emotion.

Gentle light in his eyes matched his tender grin. “Well, in that case, I’ll expect lunch every day.”

Rebecca couldn’t help but smile in return. “Oh, really?”

“It’s my job to serve, Ma’am,” he said in his most professional voice. “And if making me lunch makes you feel needed and useful, then I’m more than happy to oblige,” he assured with a chuckle.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now, you want to tell me about those weird dreams and voices in the wind?”

Rebecca frowned as the dream came back with vivid clarity. “Ever dream about someplace and when you wake up, swear you’ve been there before?”

“Sometimes. Is that what happened?”

She nodded.

“What about those voices you mentioned; part of the dream?”

“Sort of, but not really. There was a voice in the dream. It’s what woke me. But the voice in the wind was different. It was dark, menacing and tempted me to dive into Snoqualmie Falls.” She shivered at the memory. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

For a moment, Rebecca thought Ray was going to pull her into his arms, and her heart dropped an uncharacteristic beat at the thought. Instead, he leaned over and placed his hand over her trembling one. “You’re not losing your mind.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” She held back a sob, willing the quiver in her voice to steady.

His eyes reflected kindness and understanding as he gazed at her, the warmth of his hand on hers more comforting than she’d have imagined.

“As for the place in the dream, you’ve probably visited it sometime or another in your life. Or maybe you’ve seen it on TV or read about it in a book. Hence, the reason it seems so familiar. And the voice, well that’s the voice of grief trying to convince you to give up instead of moving on with your life. I, for one, am glad you didn’t listen to it.” His voice gentled, became a balm. “It’s been a year, Rebecca, it’s time for you to start letting go and move forward.”

“And do what?” she asked. “All I’ve ever been was a housewife and mother. I have no skills other than those needed to maintain a home and family and no education outside of the G.E.D. I received after I was married. What good am I anymore?”

“I’m sure God has plans for you, Becca, and I’m sure He’ll reveal them in His own perfect time. Just be patient, and promise me you won’t give up.” His gaze held hers in a tender plea.

“I promise,” she whispered, sighed. “Guess it’s just a turning forty thing.”

He smiled again and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Who’s turning forty, surely not you?”

She gave him a look and he chuckled.

“When?” he asked.

“Today.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have bought you lunch instead of allowing you to wait on me.”

“Oh, and how do you suppose I should have done that?” She arched an eyebrow. “Just come out and say, ‘oh, by-the-way, tomorrow’s my birthday?’”

Ray grinned. “Forty is just a number. Besides, haven’t you heard that life begins at forty?”

“That’s what I used to think. Now, I’m not so sure. At this point, forty feels like a hundred, like I’m too young to quit and too old to start over.”

“Nonsense, women are doing all sorts of new things at forty nowadays, even fifty. Have you thought about going back to school?”

She shook her head, grateful for the change of subject. Their visit continued on a much lighter note than it began, and before long her visit with Raymond consumed his entire lunch hour, and then some.

With obvious reluctance, he left to continue his route. Rebecca waved goodbye then returned to the kitchen to clean up the few dishes from the morning. Her heart did a slow swirl to her stomach as she remembered the softness in his eyes and voice when he’d called her ‘Becca.’ No one had ever called her Becca. The thought occurred to her once more that his feelings for her went far deeper than friendship.

Closing her eyes, she could feel his hand on hers again. Her heart reached her stomach and did a little flip. Heat flooded her entire being. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes and tried to quell the butterflies dancing along every nerve in her body.

Not only was she not losing her mind, she was definitely very much alive.

Rebecca shook off the foolishness of her thoughts, went into the living room, sat in her favorite chair—a huge rocking recliner with cushions so thick it was like sinking into a cloud—and opened her Bible to continue reading where she’d left off the day before. The Gospel of John, chapter fifteen leapt out at her...I am the vine and my Father is the vine grower...I am the vine you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit because without me you can do nothing...

She paused in her reading. God, what is it about vines and branches? I know You’re trying to show me something, but what?

Once again, she was in her dream...the long winding road...the glint of silver in her rear-view mirror...the scent of lilacs and grapes.

Raymond’s words echoed in her mind, “I’m sure God has plans for you, Becca, and I’m sure He’ll reveal them in His own perfect time. Just be patient.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up, goose bumps rose on her flesh. Rebecca got out of her chair and down on her knees.

~*~

Raymond pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the YMCA. Though exhausted, he looked forward to his daily swim.

He changed from his uniform into swim trunks and sandals, rinsed in the shower then strode to edge of the pool, kicked off his shoes, and dove in. Warm water caressed his flesh. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched and flexed to the rhythmic motion as he stroked and kicked his way from one end of the pool to the other, easing the tension from his body and mind.

The long lunch and his preoccupation with Rebecca had caused him to run late the remainder of his route. Leaving her today had been one of the most difficult tasks of his life. Several times during the afternoon, he’d walked up to a house only to realize that he had the wrong packet of mail in his hand.

Instead of enjoying the benefits of additional walking, the return trips to the vehicle to exchange one resident’s mail for the correct bundle only served to increase his frustration. By the time he returned to the main hub, completed his paperwork and traded the mail truck for his personal SUV, every muscle in his body was in knots. The pool helped. Being with Rebecca would’ve helped more.

After an hour of swimming laps in the heated, indoor pool, he headed home in a much calmer frame of mind. Raymond gathered the ingredients and cookware he needed and then set about preparing his dinner. He peeled potatoes and cut them into neat, round slices and then layered them along with meat, seasoning and onions into a casserole dish. As flavors permeated the kitchen, he thought about his life. Hailing from Flagstaff, Arizona, he’d always thought of himself as a small fish in a big pond. With a population of more than fifty thousand, Flagstaff was a far cry from the small-town life he longed for. The magnetism of the nearby Grand Canyon made it a year-around attraction for visitors, and increased the number of people crowding the already densely populated area.

He had nothing against the beautiful city at the base of the San Francisco Peaks, but Ray craved the intimacy and community—the quiet, unhurried, idyllic lifestyle—offered in smaller towns. That was why every time he relocated, he chose small towns or suburbs of the larger cities; Dayton, Texas, a stone’s throw from Houston; Welsh, Louisiana, a mere twenty miles from Lake Charles; Kent, Washington, only forty-five minutes from Seattle.

Ray finished the dinner preparations, slid the dish into the oven and set the timer, and allowed his mind to wander along the path of his childhood. The only offspring of high-powered executives, he always felt alone while growing up. Oh, he had everything a boy could want, computers, video games, expensive clothes, but the one thing he wanted most—the love and support of family—was the one thing he lacked.

In all of his thirty-eight years, Raymond hadn’t met two people less cut out for parenting than his mother and father. They weren’t cruel people, just busy living life with the passion that was a by-product of their environment. They played as fervently as they worked, fought as strongly as they loved, loved as passionately as they hated. Neither of them understood the shy, quiet boy who was their son. Had they been as zealous about parenting as they were about everything else, maybe they would have understood, or at least appreciated him, and maybe he wouldn’t have been so lonely.

His fists clenched in automatic defense against the memories; the fights, the insults, the screaming followed by passionate embraces. The helpless feeling of being trapped in a world he didn’t belong.

How could he—who was the exact opposite of everything they were—have come from such extreme, fanatical, obsessive human beings? Where they were zealous, he was calm, they were extreme, he was conservative, they were boisterous, and he was shy.

A loner they called him, a drifter with a deep-rooted wanderlust that was the antithesis of their excessive need to be in control of their destiny and to dominate everything and everyone within their power.

But Raymond knew differently. Wanderlust was not what drove him from place to place, but the age-old search for the ever-elusive soul mate—someone who would love and respect and nurture him, and the children he hoped to have, for who they were without trying to mold them into little replicas of herself.

The timer on the oven chimed. Ray removed the casserole and set it on the counter to cool while he set the table. His mind went back to lunch; his heart ached remembering the pain and fear in Rebecca’s eyes. The sorrow and loneliness in her gaze cried out to the deepest part of him and Raymond knew he’d finally found his soul mate. Problem was, he had absolutely no idea what to do with the knowledge.

How soon was too soon for the lovely widow to get on with her life? How long should he wait before pursuing the woman of his dreams?

Had he a deeper relationship with his father, Ray would pick up the phone and ask for advice. Instead, he bowed his head to speak to the Father. “Lord, give me wisdom and patience, but above all, Lord, give me boldness when the time is right.”

A sense of calm purpose settled over him, and Ray knew God would direct his steps and make straight his paths.