When they finally arrived at the North doors, they both laughed.
“Well that was an adventure.” Monica said. “Whew! I wasn’t sure we’d make it out of there alive.”
“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “We’re thankful to have so many young families, but as you can see, they tend to crowd the hallways. I guess it’s a good problem to have though.”
“Makes me thankful I don’t have children that young anymore.” Monica sighed, then realized what it must have sounded like coming from her. She quickly tried to cover. “I didn’t mean that I’m thankful my daughter is gone, I just meant that…”
Tim stopped her by putting his hand on her arm. “It’s fine, Monica. I know what you meant.” His voice was comforting, gentle, his touch warm. He let his hand linger a while longer, then pulled away.
An uncomfortable silence followed, Monica lost in thought about Sarah, Tim watching for the Lepleys. Finally they arrived, laughing and calling out greetings to people across the expansive lobby.
“What are you in the mood for, kids?” Hank asked. “Mexican, Italian, Chinese…?”
“I’m game for anything.” Monica said. “Just as long as I don’t have to cook.” She laughed.
Joyce Lepley nodded. “Me too. I take Sundays off, and I mean off. I don’t lift a finger in the kitchen, not even to load the dishwasher. Well, starting after church, of course. Hank here wouldn’t pay a lick of attention if he didn’t get a decent breakfast.”
Hank scratched his chin. “Not sure when that started,” he mused. “But she’s a sneaky one. Got me doin’ woman’s work on Sunday, of all things.” He squeezed Joyce by the shoulders.
“Well I’m in the mood for Mexican.” Tim announced. “I haven’t had it for at least a month, and guacamole sounds so good right now.”
“Mexican it is then.” Hank said and led the way to the parking lot.
Tim stopped Monica. “Would you ride with me please? I need to talk with you.” His look was imploring, serious. It made Monica uncomfortable. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her out. She wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe she never would be.
She didn’t want to be alone with Tim. It was just inviting her foot to her mouth again. Why did he make her so nervous? Was it because he was such a great Christian, or because of her growing attraction to him?
“I suppose that would be alright. Joyce,” Monica called out. “I’ll be riding with Tim.”
“Sure, Honey. We’ll see you there.” Joyce gave her a knowing look and winked. Monica groaned inwardly. The last thing she needed was for Joyce to decide to play matchmaker.
*******************
Once seated in Tim’s very new, very nice car Monica buckled her seat belt and straightened her skirt.
“Monica,” Tim said as he turned toward her. “Please don’t feel like you have to explain or justify everything you say. A part of the recovery process is to recognize the past for what it is, ask forgiveness if necessary, and then forgive yourself. Until you can do that, you’re at a high risk of using again.”
Monica was shocked. This was definitely not a request for a date. “Forgive myself?” Monica asked. “I don’t think I can. I don’t deserve to be forgiven. Some days I think everyone would be better off if I just crawled in a hole somewhere and died. I’ll never get over what I did.”
Tim sighed. “I thought the same thing. I don’t expect it to happen overnight. Just be open to letting God heal you. Accept His love and remember that no one deserves it. Remember my story too. I didn’t think I’d ever forgive myself either.” He paused, weighing his words carefully, then forged ahead.
“But eventually I got tired of feeling sorry for myself, of letting other people pity me under the guise of giving comfort, and decided I wasn’t going to let Satan dangle the past in front of my nose any more. You have to move on at some point, or God can’t use you.” Tim started the car, not waiting for a response.
Monica silently fumed. Who did he think he was? Feeling sorry for herself? How dare he imply he could even begin to understand what she’d done! His past had been a child’s innocent mistake. She had willingly allowed, even condoned what her past contained.
He would never understand. How could she have found him attractive? Right now he was nothing but irritating and repulsive. Monica crossed her arms and offered Tim a view of the back of her head while she stared out the window.
*************************
By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Monica had calmed enough to be civil. “Thank you for the ride.” She said before walking off. She knew she looked childish but she didn’t want to risk saying any more than that. She would put on a good face for the Lepleys, then go straight home.
The restaurant was nice, one Monica hadn’t been to before. It was definitely Mexican; from the brightly painted mural greeting patrons in the lobby, to the small table decorations with the Mexican flag as part the centerpiece. And the aromas wafting from the kitchen brought a watering to Monica’s mouth.
They were seated quickly, and secured the last available booth. The Lepleys sat on one side, and Monica reluctantly slid over to make room for Tim next to her. Though she would really prefer he stand. Or sit at the next table. She giggled quietly to herself at the thought.
When they were settled, the conversation shifted back to church and how everyone enjoyed the service. Monica relaxed a little, and helped herself to the chips and dip before placing her drink order of water with lemon.
Monica listened politely as the Lepleys recounted humorous tales of things the children had said and done in their class, but her mind wouldn’t let go of the conversation she’d had earlier with Tim. More like the conversation he had with me, she scoffed mentally.
Monica didn’t realize she had huffed out loud until Joyce asked for what must have been the second time if everything was alright. Monica’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, I’m fine.” She lied. “Just lost in thought is all. Sorry.”
The waiter returned to take their orders, then vanished with the flourish of a matador. Monica tried to stay interested in what the others were saying, but found herself analyzing everything Tim said, looking for hidden meaning or arrogance.
When the meal was over, Mrs. Lepley mentioned she’d love to have everyone over for coffee but had to pick up a friend from the airport in a few hours, and needed to rest.
Monica cringed as she anticipated what was coming next. “Tim,” Hank said. “Would it be too much trouble for you to take Monica home? We need to stop at the hardware store and get a few supplies for a little project I’m finishing up.”
Tim didn’t hesitate. “Of course not. I’d be glad to.”
Monica rolled her eyes and looked away. Did he want another shot at her? Wound her more deeply? Maybe he’d prepared a sermon he’d want her to listen to. She turned back in time to smile at the Lepleys and avoid them catching her expression. Joyce laid a hand on her arm as they walked out to the cars.
“We won’t be making it to church tonight, Dear. We’ve already made plans with the friend who’s flying in. Will you be alright? You’re more than welcome to stay with us again if you’re scared. Just have Tim bring you over any time after
Monica started. How much time did they think she would be spending with Tim today? Not any more than absolutely necessary if she could help it. “No, thanks. I’m sure everything’s fine now. Don’t worry about me.” She tried to keep her voice down so Tim wouldn’t overhear, but was unsuccessful.
“What happened? Is everything ok? How can I help?” he asked, concerned.
Monica restrained from saying he could take a long walk off a short pier, and instead said “Please don’t worry yourself, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.” She tried not to sound annoyed. “Ready to go?” Thankfully Tim got the hint and let it drop.
As they turned out of the parking lot, Tim informed Monica that he needed to stop and fill the gas tank before taking her home. He’d be going to play basketball with some guys after taking her home and was already low on gas.
“Fine.” Was all Monica said in reply. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to come along and watch. That’s all she needed; him expecting her to stroke his ego after he’d crushed hers earlier. So typical of a man, she thought to herself. Well, he wouldn’t be getting any flattery from her.
She nursed her wounded pride and made a mental list of things to do when she got home. Tim was going on and on about the guys he played ball with and how far some of them had come in their recovery. Monica didn’t want to hear it. His self-righteousness was making her nauseated. The food she’d just eaten suddenly didn’t sit so well in her stomach.
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