We want to say thank you to everyone who submitted stories for the short story writing contest, as well as a huge congratulations to our winner and honorable mentions! These stories might be short, but their creativity shined through every carefully selected word.
Grand Winner: Julia Bartgis, Even the Sparrow
Honorable Mention, Best Magical Realism: Elizabeth D. Marie, The Busyness of Bumblebees
Honorable Mention, Best Romance: Emilee Hill, The Last Scoop
Honorable Mention, Best Spiritual Impact: Lucy Senechal, Rejoice Always
You can read their short stories below, because everyone deserves a good story.
Even the Sparrow
By Julia Bartgis
On the first day of summer, I walk beside Anthony, my husband of thirty-three days; our hands entwined as we wander through the hardware store. He wants to add a deck to the back of the house. When we reach the lumber section, the scent of raw, unfinished wood resurrects memories of Aunt Pam and Uncle William.
I had turned nine that summer—a kid with gangly limbs, freckles splattered across my nose, and a gap between my two front teeth. My mom made a habit of leaving and saying, “I’ll be right back,” but one day she left the apartment and didn’t come back at all. Several weeks passed with me visiting the redheaded boy next door who ignored me most of the time because his summer days were committed to playing video games. However, his mom always insisted that I stay through lunch, and since I’d run out of peanut butter and jelly the first week after my mom left, I figured one meal was better than none.
In the evenings, I sat on the stoop and absorbed the summer sounds of our neighborhood. Horns honking on the street. Mr. and Mrs. Vandemier yelling that drifted down to me from their open window. A new couple walking their Golden Retriever; more dragging than walking. A baby crying. A group of older kids smoking on the corner; one kid blowing smoke rings. That’s where a short, stout social worker named Beatrice found me on the twenty-first of June; sitting on the stoop outside our apartment building, as I absorbed the loud, normal chaos of my life.
She led me inside. Asked a lot of questions.
“You’ll need someone to look after you for a little while,” she said. Her fingers reminded me of short sausages as she stuffed some clothes into a paper sack.
“I think you’re going to like living with this couple.”
“Am I supposed to call them mom and dad?” I asked, climbing into the backseat of her Volkswagen Beetle. I’d never had a dad before.
“No,” she said. “Your mom is still your mom, even though she’s in jail.” After an awkward silence she continued. “Why don’t you call them Aunt Pam and Uncle William?” I didn’t have any aunts or uncles that I knew of, so I liked the sound of it. And Beatrice was right; I did like living with them.
They lived in the tiniest town I’d ever seen where the summer sky was bluer than blue during the day and pitch black at night, except for the glittering stars. I’d never seen so many at one time! The bullfrogs, crickets, and cicadas sang me to sleep each night. It was slower, simpler and although I liked living there, it took some getting used to.
Aunt Pam made three meals every day. Not just peanut butter and jelly, either. When she and Uncle William talked to me, they looked right at me as if they saw straight through all the rotten stuff. I had new clothes that got washed after I wore them one time, and they hugged me a lot, always asking me beforehand to make sure I was “comfortable.” They even remembered that I didn’t like peas and that Aunt Pam’s taco salad was my favorite meal. She said she’d gotten the recipe from her mom.
I had to do things differently at their house like brushing my teeth twice a day, keeping my room clean without cramming stuff under the bed. I wasn’t allowed to miss summer school unless I was really sick. But that was okay. I liked school. I even liked doing my homework. Aunt Pam said I was real smart.
Every afternoon she waited on the porch for the school bus to drop me off at the driveway. Their little yellow house sat in the middle of a big yard with a long stretch of green grass that begged me to lie down and watch the clouds form different shapes in the sky. I loved this yard, this little house.
After supper, I would follow Uncle William to the shop building on the other side of the driveway to watch him work on a wood project. I would pick up the broom to sweep up the shavings from the concrete, then he’d smile at me. He had a smile that warmed my insides like the summer sun warmed my face after swimming in a cold lake.
“You don’t have to do that,” he would say.
“I want to.”
And then his shoulders would lift with a shrug, and he’d chuckle. We both knew the wood shavings would leave a mess again, but I just liked being there. I liked watching his strong hands firmly guide raw pieces of lumber through the sharp teeth of the saw. I loved to hear him whistle as he ran sandpaper over the wood, smoothing out all the rough edges. One day, he let me pick the color before staining the chair he made for Aunt Pam’s porch.
At the end of summer, I went into his shop and found a small bird carved out of wood. Later, when he went to the store for Aunt Pam, I returned and took it off the shelf, meaning to hold it – for only a moment. It hadn’t been painted yet, but it fit perfectly in my hand and everything inside of me wanted this little bare bird for my own. I’d never wanted anything in the whole world as badly as I wanted the bird. So, without another thought, I slipped it inside my pocket and skipped out the door.
Later in my room, I ran my hands over it, admiring the smooth head, the pointed beak. It looked exactly like one of the birds that splashed around in Aunt Pam’s birdbath. No matter where I lived next, I would be able to take a piece of this life with me, except I was afraid someone would come in and find the bird tucked under the pillow. Taking something that didn’t belong to me was wrong, and I knew it. I was a thief. The shame took me by surprise.
Although the bird stayed hidden away, guilt pinched my heart and followed me everywhere I went for the rest of the evening. I stared into space when I should have concentrated on helping Aunt Pam set the table.
“Do you feel sick?” she asked.
Yes! But I couldn’t tell her how sick I felt, knowing what I’d done.
“Did something happen?” Aunt Pam persisted. “Are you worried about something?”
Yes! I wanted to scream the word, but fear locked my lips. I felt awful, but I didn’t know how to fix it. They’d hate me if they found out what I’d done. Maybe I’d have to go to jail like my mom.
She put an arm around me. “You can talk to me about anything. Anything at all.”
I wanted to confess. I really did; I just couldn’t.
Instead, I decided to put it back before Uncle William found it missing, but every time I tried to sneak out the door without them knowing, I was caught. By the end of the evening, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried into the hand towel.
After three days of torment, I stood in front of Uncle William with the bird in my hand. “I took this,” I said.
He knelt in front of me until I didn’t have to look up. I bravely met his gaze.
“I know,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or not, but no matter how much I wanted to look away, I didn’t.
“Did you look at it?” he asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Did you look at it really good?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I’m very, very sorry I took it. I’ll never do it again.”
“I believe you. And I forgive you.” He took the bird. “We all make mistakes. I’m proud of you for admitting yours.”
No yelling. He didn’t call me mean names. He didn’t hit me. He didn’t throw me away or call the cops. He was proud of me?
“Does that mean I can stay?” I held my breath.
“Of course you can stay.” He turned the bird over. “Didn’t you see this?”
My name was written in pencil across the bottom.
“You made it for me?” Tears filled my eyes, making it hard to see his face.
“I know how much you like watching the sparrows in the front yard with Aunt Pam.” He wrapped his arms around me. “It’s a gift. From me to you. A reminder that you’re loved.”
I stayed with them for three years; three glorious summers. I wanted to stay with them forever. But my mom didn’t like the idea of them adopting me, so she put a stop to it by convincing the judge that she would do better. And she truly tried. She just couldn’t do better for very long. I spent my teenage years bouncing between the homes of various friends, sleeping on couches, sleeping bags, and every so often, a bed. A friend’s mom helped me apply to college so I could become an elementary teacher. After a month of teaching, I met Anthony at a church potluck.
Anthony; my husband.
He casts a quick glance in my direction, giving me a bright smile. I smile back at him as a hot summer breeze blows through the truck. It rattles and jerks down the familiar, bumpy road that leads us home.
Once we stop, I climb out. “I’ll help,” I say as he lowers the tailgate.
His gentle hands cup my face, and he gives me a tender kiss before reluctantly pulling away. “This won’t take long,” he assures.
I enter the tidy yellow kitchen and set the table for lunch like Aunt Pam taught me; a napkin to the left of the plate with a fork placed on top. To the right of the plate; a butter knife and spoon. I pull out the taco salad and stare out the glass panes as Anthony carries two-by-fours into his little shop that I swept last night. Then, I run a grateful finger over the wings of the wooden sparrow sitting on the windowsill.
The Busyness of Bumblebees
By Elizabeth D. Marie
I hold my breath, keeping perfectly still as I kneel in the tall grass and watch the bumblebee hover about the sprigs of lavender. The noon sun settles across my shoulders like a comforting embrace and warms the top of my head, because in my haste to explore, I forgot my hat again.
As I watch, the bumblebee maneuvers its fat, fuzzy body from one flower to another, flipping over to hang upside-down as it wiggles into the open bud. Its equally fuzzy black feet are dusted in golden flecks of pollen, as well as its disproportionately tiny wings, which are now folded in tight against its back. What a marvel these creatures can fly at all!
I release my held breath in a soft laugh. The bumblebee startles and flies up to hover before my face. “I’m sorry!” I say lightly, smiling, and lift my hand with index finger extended in invitation.
Because my ears are far more attuned than in Before, or maybe sounds are more enhanced in Ever, I effortlessly hear the bumblebee hum a short note as it considers me. Then it alights on my offered perch, and taps a feather-light rhythm with its tiny feet against my finger.
I bring it closer, admiring its fuzzy, yellow and black stripes. “Bees always scared me… you know, in Before. But never bumblebees like yourself. You are fat and cute, and so very gentle. You just go about your business, never bothering anyone or being bothered.”
The bumblebee hums three notes of appreciation, and I think it would blush if it could.
“You are admirable, friend,” I decide.
The bumblebee bows.
“Emm and Bee are napping,” says a new voice, as the tall grasses part and Kip pads to my side. The brown striped tabby springs gracefully to my shoulders, and peers around my head to look at the bumblebee. “Can we go exploring?” he says, touching his nose to my cheek. His long, white whiskers tickle my ear, and his blunted nails grip me with light pressure in order to keep his balance.
I turn my head toward him. “You don’t want to nap too?”
Kip gives me a reproachful look, his green eyes doing all the talking this time. In Before, those expressive eyes were his only way to communicate, and he always did so very well. “Oh, I know,” I relent. “Of course not. You have far too much energy to lounge around idly.”
“You don’t like to be idle either,” he says happily, proud to be like his human mama. From the scrappy, eight-week-old kitten I found abandoned and all through our life together in Before, he looked to me as his mama. He remembers very little about his cat mama, so he tells me, and while boasting a strong independent streak, he also learned to ‘be a people’ by mimicking me in many of my human behaviors.
“I like to keep busy,” I tell him now. But that truth is more relevant to my past life, and the reasons no longer seem relevant. I was always restless Before, and looking for ways to purge myself of that feeling. My pursuit of contentment was never fulfilled there, and here it is like a gift I have received, yet sits before me in its pretty packaging, unopened.
The bumblebee takes flight, making a lazy, looping circle around Kip’s head. It returns to its business of pollination. It seems content, doing what it was made to do.
“Let’s chase sticks,” Kip encourages near my ear.
“I should get my hat,” I say, standing carefully so as not to dislodge Kip from his perch. Kip leaps to the ground. “I’ll get it!” Then he races away across the meadow, back the way he came.
I turn my face to a near-cloudless blue sky, bathing my cheeks in sun kisses, as a sweet and earthy breeze stirs my long hair. The air coming down off the mountains always smells of the cedars and ferns that grow there. To catch its aroma here in my meadow means someone is coming, traveling the invisible ways which make it possible to teleport nearly instantly.
I look across the meadow, toward the tree line, and the massive oak tree that stands within the meadow’s border. My heart leaps at sight of the tall figure stepping into view beneath the oak tree’s branches.
Joshua!
Normally, the Sovereign and Creator of Ever comes in the cool of the evening to listen patiently to my wonderings and answer my endless questions. But I’m grateful he’s come now, because at the sight of him, I realize how much I am longing to talk with him.
Even from the distance, I can tell he’s smiling and pleased to have surprised me. So when, a moment later, he opens his arms in invitation, I run the distance to him and barrel against his chest.
Steady as a tree, he rocks back gently to my enthusiasm, his arms locked around me, and laughs against my hair. I breathe deep, instantly calmed by his familiar scent that is uniquely his own and has no proper description except to invoke feelings of safety, love, and home.
A moment later, Joshua cups my chin in his hand and guides my face up to look me in the eyes and consider me thoughtfully. It’s as if my eyes are windows into my soul. But I think he doesn’t need to look there to know what I’m thinking. “Why are you anxious?” I say truthfully, “I need to be doing.”
“You struggled with this Before.”
I nod, even though it isn’t a question. “I remember fearing that if I didn’t stay busy then I’d be left behind and forgotten.”
The grasses whisper behind me, and I look down as something brushes against my leg. Kip drops my floppy-brimmed hat at my feet, having carried it awkwardly between his jaws, then bows to Joshua by stretching out his front paws and lowering his chin to touch them. His eyes round with adoration as he gazes up, happy to see our Sovereign. “What can I do for you, Sovereign?” he asks eagerly.
As Kip sits back on his haunches, Joshua crouches to give the tabby a chin scratch. “So like your human mama,” he chides kindly. “Go wake Emm and Bee, then come and sit with us.” Kip smiles, glances up at me, then dashes off.
Joshua picks up my hat and sets it on my head. “Come,” he encourages.
We settle on a bed of soft grass at the base of the tree, and Joshua leans against its trunk, lifts his chin, and closes his eyes as if he intends to take a nap. I stare at him a moment, uncertain, but rather than pry him with questions, I wait.
The breeze lifts and falls, dancing softly through the grass and leaves and playing with the ends of my hair. Birds sing in the tree line. A squirrel scrabbles across the tree limb stretching above me, chattering softly. A tiny field mouse pokes its head out from a hollow at the base of the tree and climbs up onto Joshua’s lap, then into his hand when—eyes still closed—he turns his palm up and opens his fingers in invitation.
Oh, to be that mouse, curled up in the hand of its Creator.
Eyes still closed, Joshua murmurs, “Do not mourn the past, or worry over the future. You do not live there, but in the present.”
The grasses stir, then the three felines join us. Kip is in the lead, followed by a light colored calico and a long-hair calico. Kip curls up beside Joshua’s knee, facing me, and Emm and Bee cuddle with me. Bee claims my lap, while Emm presses against my hip and sits at attention, asking Joshua, “Is it time for a story?” Little Emm loves stories and music best of all.
Joshua straightens and smiles at Emm. “Of a sort, yes. So pay attention.” Light dances in his gaze, and Emm sits up a little straighter.
Joshua looks at me. “Consider the bumblebee,” he says. “It does not worry that it is not doing enough, or become distracted about the other bees in their tasks. A pollinator does not envy the role of the nurse, or the nurse the role of the guard. Does it?”
“Of course not.”
“And neither should you. That is what what would hinder you,” Joshua reprimands gently. “Envy and pride and fear were the ways of Before, but the old has passed away. These things led to discontentment, which led to a busyness that wasn’t good, where you strived for all the things you thought you might want, afraid you would miss out if you didn’t, and instead you missed out on the joy of what surrounded you in the present.
“Even now, remembering your striving, you seek to stay always in motion. But I call upon you to rest and to trust, so that the purpose which I have given you to accomplish will not be a burden which you are already too exhausted, or distracted, to carry. I never wanted you to wear yourself out pursuing the things of the wind.”
“The wind. Always changing; here one moment and gone the next,” I muse, stroking Bee’s long fur. “So then, it’s not wrong to be busy like the bumblebee…just so long as that busyness is with the right things, for the right reasons.”
“With what I have entrusted to you,” Joshua defines, with a nod out at the meadow. “And when it rains?”
I smile. “Take a rest. Otherwise,” I tease, “I might damage my wings.”
Joshua chuckles. “If you were a bumblebee.” Then he looks at me softly, tenderly. “But yes, dear one, you understand what I’m telling you. I did not abandon you Before, and I will not forsake you Ever, in all the good that I have prepared for you.”
The Last Scoop
By Emilee Hill
Audrey Grant slipped out the back door after her double shift at the Copper Spoon. She smelled like bacon grease and tomatoes. Her waitress uniform had been the unfortunate victim of target practice with a ketchup bottle.
A giggle escaped her lips as she recalled how the little boy’s eyes widened in surprise at the accident. Nothing laundry detergent couldn’t handle. The bacon grease was a different story. She was convinced the odor was embedded in the building right down to the studs. It was a standing joke among the staff and regulars.
Audrey basked in the fading rays of the summer sunset as it warmed her skin. The sugary aroma of waffle cones had her feet headed in the opposite direction of her cozy apartment. Ice cream again. It was her favorite weeknight treat she indulged in more often than she should.
She smiled as she thought back to two summers earlier when she first met Wesley “Wes” McKnight. He was the shy ice cream vendor with bright blue eyes and a warm smile that reached them.
She wore an Audrey Hepburn T-shirt she’d paired with denim shorts and yellow flip flops. She remembered the chalkboard trivia question like it was yesterday. “For which 1953 romantic comedy did Audrey Hepburn win her first and only Academy Award for Best Actress?” As she stepped up to place her order, he asked if she knew the trivia question.
“Roman Holiday?”
“That’s correct.” He nodded. “I may have made it too easy. Everyone is guessing correctly. What can I get you?”
“Cookie dough ice cream on a waffle cone with extra whipped cream please.”
“Do you want a cherry on top?”
“No cherries, thank you.”
“Coming right up, Audrey Hepburn.”
“Actually, it’s Audrey Grant, but I’m a super fan of Audrey Hepburn.”
“Maybe I should call you Audrey Hepburn since you’re such a fan.” His face turned as red as her toenail polish. His attempt at flirting was sweet.
That summer, anytime she got ice cream he remembered her preference for cookie dough and always had her favorite scoop on hand. How did he do that?
What would the chalkboard trivia question be today? Would Wes have her favorite flavor? Her heart beat a little faster when she saw the familiar blue and white striped awning as it flapped in the distance like a beacon. Why wasn’t ice cream the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?
A bird grabbed a broken piece of waffle cone that had fallen on the pavement and flew away with his treasure. Several children laughed and ran around, darting in and around their parents waiting in line as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
Five customers were in line ahead of her, and she squinted at the board. Maybe her vision wasn’t 20/20 as she’d thought. As the line inched closer to the front, she read the question printed in white chalk.
“What famous line from Casablanca (1942) is a complete misquote that no character ever says in the film?”
A shy smile lit Audrey’s face as she saw Wes and stepped up to the window to place her order.
“Audrey Hepburn, do you still want your usual?” His ice cream scoop hovered above the chocolate chip cookie dough.
“I’ll have a scoop of mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone.”
“Switching it up on me? Still want extra whipped cream?”
“You must be an ice cream magician to remember my exact order every time. Yes please, give me all the sugar.”
He laughed and a red flush crept into his cheeks as he scooped her ice cream. “Do you know the trivia answer?”
“I think so. The misquoted line is “Play it again, Sam,” but none of the characters say that.”
“You know your classic movies. I haven’t been able to stump you yet.” He handed her a cone so perfect it looked like it belonged in a late-night TV commercial. “Enjoy.”
Audrey smiled and sighed in contentment the minute her tongue tasted the cool creamy mint flavor.
Wes cleared his throat and she turned back to him.
“I was hoping…I mean… if it’s not too much trouble, we could meet a couple times a week to discuss trivia questions. Some of my customers think they are too easy.” The tips of his ears turned pink.
“I’d enjoy that. I wouldn’t be able to meet you ‘til almost closing time if that’s ok.”
“Works for me.”
“I’ll see you Monday.” How many hours is it till Monday?
Would he be impressed she’d spent her weekend brushing up on trivia? The Mamas and the Papas may have warned her about Mondays, but Audrey didn’t mind. If she got to see Wesley McKnight every Monday that would be wonderful.
Get over yourself, Audrey. It shouldn’t matter what he thinks of you. You hardly know the man.
The pep talk did little to convince or calm her. Those pesky butterflies started in her stomach and seemed to keep time with the slap-slap sound of her yellow flip flops.
As she approached, Wes was rolling a fresh waffle cone off the griddle. She watched his skilled hands repeat an action he’d done a thousand times. Her stomach gurgled at the scent. He turned as she stepped up to the stand.
“I wondered if you’d come.” He wiped his hands on a towel.
A small smile lit her face. “You were?”
“Can I get you the usual?”
An impish grin played on her face as she tried to stump him “How about you surprise me? The only thing I ask is extra whipped cream.”
Wes thought about it for a minute and then grabbed a waffle cone and dipped the metal scoop into an ice cream bucket, added the topping and handed it her.
“Thanks.” Audrey’s fingers brushed his as he gave her the treat and a spoon and she drew in a quick breath.
“Let me finish closing up and then I can join you at the bench.”
She nodded and headed toward the weathered seat where people had carved hearts and initials into the wood over the years.
Wes joined her a few minutes later. He wiped his palms on his jeans. She suspected it was a nervous gesture.
Audrey had eaten all the whipped topping and was now digging into the ice cream. “Strawberry cheesecake? It’s my second favorite ice cream flavor. How’d you know?”
Wes cleared his throat and studied a dandelion coming through the crack in the sidewalk. “You mentioned it once.”
“Two years ago. You remember that?” She took another spoonful of ice cream.
Before Wes could answer, a miniature poodle trotted up to them and barked.
Mrs. Crabtree jogged up to them and called her dog’s name. “Teddy!” She huffed and tugged on Teddy’s leash before she looked up both eyebrows shot up. “Fancy meeting you two together.”
“Evening Mrs. Crabtree,” Audrey worked to keep her voice controlled, “It’s a lovely night for a walk.”
Mrs. Crabtree frequented the Copper Spoon and had a way of making the most innocent encounters outrageous. Audrey had a feeling before the evening was through that Mrs. Crabtree would tell anyone who would listen about her canoodling on a bench in public with Wes McKnight. Why didn’t the bench just swallow her up? Well, after she finished her ice cream. Priorities.
As Mrs. Crabtree continued down the sidewalk with Teddy, she glanced back at them one last time.
“That was subtle.” Wes glanced at Audrey.
“Mrs. Crabtree considers herself the town matchmaker.”
“Seriously?”
“I wish I was joking, but she has a gift, or so she says.” Audrey shrugged.
Wes snorted. “I don’t know what to make of her.”
“No one does.” Audrey pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. “So, do you want to look at my trivia questions?” She handed the paper to Wes.
He unfolded it and scanned the page. “These are good Audrey. Challenging, but not too hard.”
Audrey smiled as she dug her spoon into the last bite. “Thanks.”
“I especially like this one.” He pointed to the bottom of the page. “Cary Grant’s line about making a movie with Audrey Hepburn.”
He looked at her. “I thought Charade was the best Hitchcock movie Hitchcock never made. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that same guy who directed Singin’ in the Rain and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers made Charade.”
“I agree with you. Audrey leaned in so she could see the paper more clearly. “I’ll have to work harder than that if I want to baffle you.” She took a bite of her cone.
“Well, isn’t this cozy? I knew it.” A familiar voice interrupted them. Please don’t be Mrs. Crabtree again.
“Knew what?” Audrey stuffed the bite of cone in her mouth to keep from saying more.
“That the two of you were perfect for each other and make a lovely couple.”
“Mrs. Crabtree, we were talking about trivia.” Wes cut in.
“Of course, you were.” Mrs. Crabtree gave them a knowing smile. Teddy barked. “Teddy agrees with me.”
Audrey laughed. “He’s barking at a squirrel.”
“Nonsense. Teddy knows romance when he sees it.” She patted her dog’s head.
Wes chuckled.
“Carry on you two.” Mrs. Crabtree gave them a pointed look before continuing on her way.
“I think we made her night.” Wes coughed to hide a laugh.
“I’m sure we did.” Audrey muttered. “Who knows what people will say tomorrow after she spreads her gossip?”
“You know, Mrs. Crabtree isn’t completely wrong.” Wes shifted on the bench towards Audrey.
“What do you mean?”
“Two summers ago, I noticed you and remembered everything from your ice cream order to your yellow flip flops. There were days you’d stop by in your waitress uniform after working a double shift, but you always had a genuine smile and a gentle spirit. I looked forward to the days you’d stop by for ice cream and started saving your favorite flavor just in case. I remember everything that summer and the next but always wondered if you ever…” His voice trailed off.
Audrey grinned at Wes. “I never forgot your dazzling blue eyes.”
He laughed. “Just my eyes?”
“Well, maybe the ice cream too.”
“Good. I hoped the ice cream would give me a chance to ask for a date. We don’t want to ruin Mrs. Crabtree’s delusions that she’s a matchmaker.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “If you go on a date with me, I’ll tell you my favorite flavor.”
Rejoice Always
By Lucy Senechal
Summer. Any other season would have been better appreciated. Addie would have preferred an ice box to a sauna. At least if it were cold, she could bury herself under the covers; one couldn’t necessarily do that when the temperature was ninety-eight. Maybe she should rent a hotel room for the night. But she was already in a hotel. No wait, an apartment.
Addie brushed her palms against her sweaty forehead, vainly hoping to rid her head of the heat. She couldn’t even think straight. She glanced at the boxy, battery-powered clock on the dresser across from her bed. 5:37 A.M. At least the night was almost over. She should get out of here before the heat drove her mad. A cold shower might help. She doubted they even had hot water here anyway.
By six o’clock, she was showered and dressed in jeans and a loose T-shirt, with her long, wet hair dripping at her hips. She should get a haircut soon. As soon as she could afford it. And if she were lucky, that would mean in a few years.
After Addie dried her hair with a towel, she braided it into a single, thick braid, which felt as if it made her head lean back an inch or two. Good. She’d been meaning to work out her neck anyway.
Addie slid into her tennis shoes, grabbed her purse, and made for the door. A thought tickled the back of her brain, reminding her there was one more thing she needed to do before she left. She bit her lip, setting her purse down and making her way across the room to her bed. She was currently residing in a small studio apartment, so there was no separation between the different rooms, save for the bathroom, of course. She picked up the NIV black leather Bible from her nightstand, sat down on her bed, and read the first verses she laid eyes on.
“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
She couldn’t help but smile a little. What were the chances she would simply land on these verses? She already knew the answer to that question. Very low. God was telling her something. She set the Bible aside, clasped her hands, closed her eyes tight to prevent distraction, and whispered a quick prayer for help to always give thanks and to pray continually. With that done, she returned her purse to her shoulder, crossed the room, and again reached for the doorknob.
Again, she stopped. Give thanks in all circumstances. She stared at the faded red door, searching her mind for something. Her mom. No, that was cheating. It should be relevant to her current circumstances. She turned her head around to glance at the small room. Thank You Lord… for the heat… it made sure I would get to work on time. With that, she at last left the building.
Addelaide Parton was currently a sophomore at the University of Maryland, on break for the summer and working at a bookstore to earn some money for the cost of her tuition. With her degree in English, she dreamed of one day becoming a popular author. Hopefully. Her shift at the bookstore called “Coffee and Books”- her two favorite things- started at seven, which gave her time to get coffee from a different shop. It felt rather hypocritical, but it was cheaper elsewhere. That wasn’t her fault, right?
Addie pulled into the drive-thru and ordered a hot coffee with cream and sugar along with a toasted bagel. She had been in such a rush to get out of her hot apartment that she hadn’t even eaten first.
The lady at the window handed Addie the things she had ordered without so much as a nod in response to her thanks. Must be tired, Addie reasoned, driving for the parking lot.
The hot coffee was very quickly warming Addie’s fingers, so she stopped for a moment before she pulled out of the drive-thru to put the coffee in a holder. Unfortunately, someone behind her chose just that moment to honk at her unmoving vehicle, which made Addie jump.
Burning coffee spilled across Addie’s hand and all over the seat next to her, causing her to drop the cup from the pain. Addie sucked in through her teeth and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The car behind her, not patient enough to wait, swerved around her and drove on.
Addie did the only thing she could think of, and drove hard for the nearest parking slot, slamming the brakes and shifting the car into park when she was only halfway in. She ran for the shop, not bothering to turn her car off, or even sure if she had shut the door behind her.
All the attendees in the shop stared at her as she bolted for the women’s restroom, stopping only when she had reached the sink and had cold water running all over her hand and wrist.
Addie tried to keep back the tears, but she couldn’t stop those that leaked down the sides of her cheeks. Someone entered the bathroom, gave Addie a bit of a curious glance, then went on about her business. After a few minutes of the cold rinse, Addie took out her hand and looked it up and down. The burning had eased, but her right hand was still swollen, and she could see blisters forming. Addie sighed. This was just perfect.
Addie didn’t bother to wipe her hand off before she left the bathroom, knowing it would hurt too much, anyway. As soon as she stepped out of the shop, a blast of hot air hit her full in the face. This day just kept getting better. She turned to her left, where the parking lot was. So early in the morning, the lot was almost completely empty, save for four cars.
Addie stopped dead in her tracks. Where was her car? She looked left and right in desperation. She was certain she had parked it here.
After a quick search, Addie headed back into the coffee shop. She was sure she would never come back to this shop again after this. “Excuse me,” Addie said to the lady behind the counter.
“Yes ma’am, what would you like?”
“No, sorry- not that. I wanted to know if you had seen a pale blue Volkswagen drive away in the past few minutes?”
The lady shook her head and pursed her lips. “Sorry, no.”
Addie sighed heavily.
“Did you say a pale blue Volkswagen?”
Addie turned to the man that had come up behind the lady. Excited, Addie nodded. “Yes.”
He pointed out the window. “I saw one like that drive away two minutes ago.”
The lady pointed at Addie’s right arm. “Is your hand okay, miss?”
Addie looked down at her hand like she wasn’t sure what it was. “Yeah- it’s… fine.” She turned away and walked back out of the shop in shock. She sat down on the curb, trying to understand. She must have left the car on. The keys in the ignition.
The police. She needed to tell the police.
Fortunately, Addie still had her purse and phone on her. She had been too wrapped up in her situation to consider that before. She pulled out her phone, dialed the number, and relayed briefly what had happened to a kind lady on the other end. Near the end of Addie’s debriefing, the lady asked for the license number of her car. Addie’s mind went blank. Who knew their license plate number? “I don’t know my license number…” Addie said. “But if it helps, there was coffee spilled all over the passenger seat. That could help identify it.”
The lady laughed a little. “No worries. I can look up the license number for you.” As their call came to an end, the lady promised to get back to her as soon as they had found something.
“Thank you,” Addie said.
“You’re welcome!”
Addie hung up and checked the time on her watch. 6:37. There was nothing more she could do here. She might as well start walking to her job. She sighed, stood, and started walking on the sidewalk to her left. She knew it was about a five-minute drive from here, but she didn’t know how long a walk that would be. Just three minutes later, she was drenched in sweat.
This was miserable. Seventeen minutes later, and she thought she might fall over. If she was correct though, the store should be just around the corner. She finished off the water bottle she had had in her purse and threw it away in a nearby garbage bin. A short distance from the bin and sitting on a bench was a teenage girl, on her phone and with hair enshrouding her face. Addie stopped moving and just stared at the girl. She needs Jesus. Addie licked her swollen lip. She kicked at the ground and turned the other way, trying to forget what she just saw. Then she wouldn’t feel obligated to go over there.
Don’t look away, a small voice whispered. What if that were you? Would you want someone just to walk away?
Cars drove noisily by on the busy road, oblivious to what Addie could share with this girl. She won’t listen.
How do you know?
Addie felt ready to cry. She could either walk away and know that she had had the chance to lead a soul to Christ or go over there with no idea what to say and start telling her about Jesus, which she knew any other Christian could do so much better than her. But there weren’t any other Christians here. Just her. She glanced at her watch. 7:02. She was already late for her shift and would be even later if she started talking. She closed her eyes. She knew that was a lame excuse.
Making a hasty decision, she reached into her purse and grabbed a tract that her sister had given her, then walked up to the girl. “Excuse me,” Addie said, voice as unconfident as she felt. The girl looked up at her blankly, seeming a bit confused as to why some random stranger would approach her.
“I must go because my shift at work already started and I’m late, but I just wanted to give you this before I left. If you have any questions or want to know more about it, I work at the ‘Books and Coffee’ shop around the corner.” She handed the tract over, gave the girl a quick smile, and all but ran the other way.
***
“You’re late, Addie. Slept in?”
Addie closed the glass door behind her in the familiar shop and let out a sigh. She looked sideways at Louise, her friendly coworker. “Complications.”
Louise raised her eyebrows. “Hmm. Does that have anything to do with your hand?” she asked, glancing at Addie’s arm.
“Yeah.” Addie brushed the sticky hair from her face and went to work. She found herself constantly in prayer throughout the hours that ticked by, prayers for the girl, prayers that her car would be found, prayers to respond kindly to her coworkers and customers. She prayed for the girl the most, though. It was around eleven o’clock in the morning when God responded to her prayers, even though by that time she had given up most hope.
Addie was busy stacking books in the adult fiction aisle, making sure to only use her left hand, when Louise came around the corner with the girl from the street. “Hey Addie,” Louise said, “this young lady said she wanted to see you.”
Addie was stunned, but she managed to reply with a “thanks, Louise.” Louise nodded and left, and the girl looked at the ground. Addie swallowed and asked as calmly as she could how she could help her.
The girl held up the tract. “I read your thing, and I… uh… started going about my business, but I… uh… couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then I remembered that you said you could help me if I had any questions, so… uh… I came here.”
Addie smiled wide. She even hopped up and down a little. “Do you want to know Jesus?”
The girl looked a little confused at Addie’s reaction, but then she smiled, and tears started to well up in her eyes as she nodded. Addie didn’t remember much about what happened after that, only their conversation ending in the girl’s (whose name turned out to be Anne) prayer of repentance. Addie had never been so happy in her life.
Even hours after Anne had given Addie her phone number, promised to meet up again soon, and left, Addie just couldn’t stop smiling. She said ‘hi’ to anyone that passed and did her least favorite jobs with no sign of her smile diminishing. In the midst of that, when Addie was shelving a few new Bibles in their section, she remembered the verse she had read that morning about always rejoicing and thanked God that her car had been stolen so she could share His light with Anne.
What was a stolen car compared to another soul in eternity?
She even thanked Him for her swollen arm. On her way home that night to her apartment, she received a call from the police, telling her that they had found her car in a ditch on the side of the road.
Addie was taken back. “But why would the thief just leave it there?” she asked the lady on the other end.
“We’re not certain, but it appears that the car broke down from the heat, and the guy just dumped it and moved on.”
Addie stared off into the sunset, too shocked and happy to respond.
“We have it here now, if you want to come by the station and pick it up tomorrow.”
“Uh… yeah. I mean yes, of course, I will. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Any other questions?”
“No, that’s all.”
“Bye.”
“…Bye.” It took Addie three seconds to realize she was crying, and another two to realize that she was also now laughing out loud. “Thank You, Lord, for the heat!” she yelled at the sky, not caring who heard her. She meant every word. She was all too happy to get back to her hot apartment that night. It was good to be alive.
