Season of Joy. Virginia Carmichael
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short, wiry woman smiled at him as he reached for a biscuit. “Mr. Monohan, is good to see you having breakfast. You have to eat and keep strong.” Her softly curling hair was covered by a hairnet and she wore a brightly colored apron that was missing one large pocket in the front.
“Marisol, this is Calista Sheffield. She’s a new volunteer.”
Calista hoped the emotion that flickered over the lined face was curiosity, and not skepticism. “We can always use more of those, eh, Mr. Monohan?” The thick accent was a bit like Jose’s but more lyrical, as if she was more used to singing than speaking.
“We sure can. When are you going to cook me some of your arroz con pollo? I’ve been dreaming of it all week.”
Marisol beamed with pleasure. “Anytime, Mr. Monohan, anytime. You tell me and I cook you a big dinner. Maybe you bring a friend, too? How ’bout that nice Jennie girl?”
Calista studied the biscuit on her tray, wishing she couldn’t hear this conversation.
“Sadly, Mari, I don’t think there’s much future for us,” Grant said, sounding not at all sad about it.
“Oh, no.” She wagged her finger over the glass case at him. “You let her get away. I told you, she’s a nice girl and you work too much.” She seemed honestly grieved by this new development.
“You wouldn’t want me to be with the wrong girl, would you, Marisol? And she wasn’t right for me.” Calista glanced at him and could tell Grant was trying not to laugh, his lips quirked up on one side.
“But how you know that when you only see her once or twice? You work all the time and the girl decides you don’t like her. That’s what happened.” She was giving him a glare that any kid would recognize from the “mom look.”
“No, I made time for her. But it just didn’t work out.” He smiled, trying to convey his sincerity but Marisol was not budging. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t want to gossip, but I’ll tell you something she said.”
“Go ahead,” Marisol dared him, frowning. Calista couldn’t imagine how long it was going to take to convince this little Hispanic woman that Grant hadn’t done Jennie wrong.
“She said I was too religious.”
Calista felt her eyes widen, a perfect mirror to Marisol’s own expression. They both stared at Grant, disbelieving.
“Oh, Mr. Monohan. That’s bad. Very bad.” Her eyes were sad as she shrugged. “Because you don’t drink? Did you tell that girl your mama drink herself to death?”
“It wasn’t that. And I never told her about my mother.” His words were light, with no hint of anger. He could have told Marisol to zip it, but he looked more amused than anything.
“Well, good thing she’s gone. You tell me when you want me to cook. Maybe I bring my niece, that pretty one? She’s in college and wants to be a social worker!”
Calista bit back a laugh at how quickly Marisol had let go of Jennie as Grant’s future wife.
“Thanks, I will.” Grant nodded at Calista and she figured it was safe to move on.
They got glasses of orange juice and he chose a table near the entrance. As they settled on either side of the long table, he extended his hand to her, palm up.
She stared for a moment, uncomprehending, then remembered how her sister, Elaine, always held hands with her husband as they said grace before meals. It had made Calista uncomfortable a few years ago but she felt her heart warm in her chest now. She placed her hand in his and bowed her head. The steady strength of his fingers sent a thrill of joy through her. He spoke simple words of thanks and asked God’s blessing on their day.
He let go of her hand and she put it in her lap, feeling strangely lonely without the pressure of his hand.
“Did she really say you were too religious?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that,” Grant said, grinning. He paused, as if choosing his words. “And I’m sorry about Marisol. Too much information on your first day, right? But she doesn’t mean any harm. She thinks everyone will accept people for who they are, not holding the sins of their parents against them.”
Calista dropped her gaze to her tray. She’d worked hard to reinvent herself from a poor girl from a tiny Southern town, the one with a mean father and a dead mother, into a polished and beautiful businesswoman. But there was only so far you could run from yourself. Then it was all about facing your fears and being bigger than your past. She was ready to be what God intended her to be, no matter how crazy it seemed to everyone else.
Chapter Two
“You don’t seem very upset about losing your girlfriend.”
He took a sip of his orange juice and paused, a small line between his brows. “You know that moment, when you’re not sure exactly which way to go, when opposite choices are equally attractive?”
“Of course.” She hated that moment. The indecision nearly killed her.
“That was how I felt about Jennie. She was smart, caring, made good conversation. Everybody thought we’d be a great couple.”
Calista groaned and he raised his eyebrows in question. “Every time a friend tells me that I’d be great with someone, I know it’s doomed.” Jackie, her assistant, never tired of setting her up. It was always a disaster and Jackie always enjoyed the dramatic story the day after. Which made Calista wonder if she picked the men for her own amusement.
Grant laughed out loud and nodded. “Maybe I should have known, but my best friend, Eric, set us up. Well, he brought her in to volunteer and he knew we’d hit it off.”
Calista took a bite of her biscuit and chewed thoughtfully. Eric thought they’d hit it off because they were so alike, or because Grant went for pretty volunteers? The idea that she was sitting in a spot where twenty other girls had been made her heart sink.
“She’s an attorney and spends most of her time as a prosecutor for the city’s worst abuse cases. She also handles some family law, but mostly fights for the weakest of our residents. He knew I’d appreciate her passion for protecting vulnerable kids.”
The buttery biscuit turned to ashes in her mouth. Grant would certainly not appreciate her own passion for building a vitamin-water empire. There was nothing admirable about getting folks to pay a lot of money for something that didn’t really make them any healthier.
“And I really did—I mean, I do—think she does a great job. But we just didn’t seem to connect.” His voice trailed off and he took a bite of scrambled egg. “But I knew that before she told me I was too religious, so it only made it easier to leave it at being friends.”
Calista took a sip of her juice and pondered his words. Elaine told her once that if a man wasn’t in contact with any of his ex-girlfriends, then he was a bitter and spiteful person. So, maybe staying friends with Jennie was good.
“I’m just wondering...” She shook her head, trying to formulate her thoughts. He watched her, waiting. “Why did she say that? Was it something you did? Or said? I don’t want to pry, but it’s an odd comment. Don’t you think?”
He grinned at her and she felt her brain go fuzzy around the edges. “Not odd at all. Most people consider anything more than a passing gesture to be too much. Sunday service is okay. Giving up a big promotion because God is calling you in another direction is not. Saying a blessing before eating is fine. Praying for your future spouse is not.”
Calista paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Future spouse? What does that kind of prayer sound like, if I can ask?”
He shrugged a little. “Uh, I don’t usually focus on that, since I have bigger fish to fry. But let me think. I usually pray for her health and safety, for her to grow in God’s grace.”
Her