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TO KEEP ME WARM in By Gail Gaymer Martin Two are better than one, Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12
Chapter One In the church fellowship hall, Tim Richmond leaned against a wall, peering at men and women talking comfortably in friendly clusters while he squirmed. He wished he’d never let his friend convince him to come along. He eyed Jack across the room, looking relaxed and in control. Not Tim. He clung to the wall like ivy. Poison ivy, at that. No one had spoken to him. "Excuse me," a woman said, brushing past. He watched her dash across the floor to greet a friend, he assumed. A single’s group...even a church single’s group gave Tim as much pleasure as poking his eye with a stick. He scanned the red hearts with cupid’s arrows decorating the hall and pushed himself closer to the plaster. Valentine’s Day was meant for couples...not one lone, miserable man who still didn’t feel at all single. With four years of marriage and a wonderful son, two years widowed seemed like a moment in time. Refocusing on the crowd, Tim peered at his friend, Jack. A few years older than Tim, Jack had been widowed for four years. Would two more years make that much difference? Tim couldn’t imagine it. Shifting his eyes, he spotted a vaguely familiar face, a woman engaged in conversation with another female. He narrowed his focus, groping through his mind to identify from where and why he knew her. She turned toward him, her awareness locked with his. The same questioning expression stumbled across her face before switching to a pleasant nod. After speaking a moment to her companion, she rose and headed straight for Tim. Pulling his back straight, he heaved his disheartened shoulders upward, hoping to present a look of semi-pleasance. She approached him, hand extended. "Mr. Richmond? You’re Timmy’s father, right?" "Yes," he said, embarrassed that he was still in the dark. "Central Orthopedic," she said. "I’m a nurse at the clinic." The image of her bright smile as she talked with his six year old son, Timmy, took shape in his thoughts. "I knew you looked familiar, but couldn’t place from where," he admitted. "I should have worn my uniform." She flashed an infectious smile. He sent one back, admiring her wavy ash-brown hair brushing against her shoulders. "I suppose that would’ve helped." Though he tried to joke, he felt tongue-tied. "What are you doing here?" she asked. His shoulders drooped for a moment, asking himself the same question. Nabbing his fading confidence, he straightened his back again. "I was dragged here by a friend for moral support." A burst of laughter filled the air, and sensing she was laughing at him, he cringed for a fleeting moment until she continued. "You, too," she said, amusement bubbling in her words. "I didn’t want to do this either." She motioned toward the woman she’d been speaking with early. "I’m with a friend." Her gestured faltered. "...was with a friend. I see she’s occupied." When she turned back to face Tim, he had the horrible desire to run out the door. Not that he didn’t enjoy Julie’s company, he did, but he felt awkward like a man cheating on his wife. He’d never had such feelings--but tonight, the emotions bounded through him. "Care to sit?" she asked pointing to an unoccupied table. Angry at his unbidden feelings, Tim lassoed his commonsense. "Sure, thanks." She led the way, and he followed like a sheep, instead of the shepherd. Where was his masculine charm? Buried in memories, he guessed. When they reached the table, he found his manners. "Would you like something to drink?" "Yes, thanks. A cola, if you don’t mind." He nodded, then escaped, needing time to get himself under control. Why did he feel so inept? This wasn’t a date. He was talking to a woman he’d seen numerous times at his son’s orthopedic clinic. Tim’s heart twisted thinking of his son bound in braces from Blount’s disease. He prayed the supports would help the boy’s problem, but the doctor hadn’t been hopeful. Surgery, he’d said, would probably be the only permanent solution. Surgery? Tim’s heart weighted with the possibility. When Timmy was a toddler, he recalled his wife and he laughing at Timmy’s bowed legs. Yet, concerned, Jan had asked the pediatrician about the problem. He dismissed it as natural. Not until after Jan’s death when Timmy’s abnormality became more pronounced did Tim pursue the problem and learned about this uncommon deformity. Tim pulled his thoughts back to his task and ordered two colas, then headed toward Timmy’s nurse. If he kept her in prospective, he could handle the evening. She knew his son and the child’s disease. They had something in common. "Here you go," Tim said, sliding the glass onto the table. He settled into the chair across from her, his mind scurrying for something to talk about. "Thanks." She lifted the glass and took a delicate sip. Tim’s gaze latched onto her full, shapely mouth. Generous mouth. Not large, but eager to smile or articulate in her soothing, mellow voice. "Your quiet," she said. Discomfort rifled up his neck. "I’m new at this. I don’t have much time for socializing." She nodded and lifted her glass for another sip, but her eyes searched his as if trying to read his thoughts. "Your son?" she asked. "I’m sure he takes time." "Yes, I’m...a, eh, widower," he said, finding it difficult to say the word. "My wife died two years ago." "I’m sorry," she said, a look of sincerity spreading across her face. "Thanks." He dragged his finger across his glass wiping away the condensation. "So I’m, uh, a single parent." Her face washed with a mixture of responses, and he wondered. "I’m sure being an only parent is difficult," she said, seeming distracted, "It’s often the woman whose left with little ones...not men. Divorce and unmarried girls getting pregnant. Today’s morals are terrible." "Yes, I guess they are," he said, confused by her comment. "Single or widowed, raising a child alone isn’t easy." She drew her attention back to him. "I’m sorry," she said. "I don’t know what got into me. We should talk about something more pleasant." "It might not be pleasant, but it’s real," he said. Curious, Tim searched her face for understanding. He’d heard an inference in her voice, but it had faded as quickly as it happened. "I do as much as I can for my son, but he needs more than I can give him sometimes. Then, I don’t want to spoil him. It’s a tough road to walk." She gave his arm a reassuring pat. "Timmy’s a great kid," she said. "Shame about his problem...but surgery will...." Her voice trailed off, and she flinched. "I don’t suppose surgery is what you want, but from my experience, it’s proven wonderful in most every case." "I’ve heard," Tim said, not eager to discuss the topic. "There I go again," she said, apparently sensing his discomfort. He drew his fingers through his hair. "Are you...eh, widowed?" Her head shake answered before she did. "No. Just plain old single. Never married. I’m too old now." Surprising himself, a laugh burst from his throat. "You! You’re not too old for much of anything." She grinned. "I feel that way though." "You shouldn’t. You’re young." "Thirty-three," she said. "I’m thirty-two." A scowl shuffled over her face. "You’re a young widower. What happened?" "Blood clot," he answered. "Jan had surgery...a pulmonary embolism took her...so fast." Julie’s face paled. "Mr. Richmond...I’m sorry. I suggested cheering up our conversation, and now, I’ve pulled it back down again." "Please...I’m Tim," he said, understanding how conversation often tugs at the heart. He despised talking about feelings. "It’s not your fault. Happens all the time. I guess that’s why I’m not very sociable." "Sure you are," she said, renewed color brightening her face. "You’re always friendly at the office, and sometimes I’ve watched you with Timmy. I know you’re a good father." "I try." He thought of so many times he’d fallen on his knees begging God to give him strength and patience. "God is good," she said. His head jolted upward. Had he mentioned his prayer aloud? "Are you a religious man, Mr...Tim? I’m guessing you are?" "Without God, life leaves little to cling to," he said, but wished he hadn’t after he saw her expression. She wanted him to explain, he was sure, but he didn’t. Too much background information would be needed. Too much personal pain would be explored. "How long have you been at the clinic?" he asked. "Two years," she said. "I worked at Beaumont Hospital, but decided I’d prefer straight days. I got very tired of the shift changes." "I can imagine," he said, inwardly breathing a relieved sigh that he’d changed the subject. He knew about shift changes. So often, he’d wished a college degree had been an option. So little money and moral support had led him to take a quick job...not a career like Julie. Her gaze shifted toward her friend. "Oops, I see Terri’s alone over there. I’d better get back." She gesture toward the woman sitting across the room. "Would you like to join us?" His chest tightened. He would, but he knew it was foolish. "No, but thanks. I was smart enough to drive here myself, and since Jack’s pleasantly occupied I think I’ll just slip away. I have a sitter with Timmy." "Aah," she said, rising. "Well, it was nice to see you...Tim. I imagine Timmy has another appointment at the clinic." "Always," he said, rising. "Thanks for coming over to say ‘hi.’" She extended her hand. "You don’t have to thank me. It was fun." He grasped her small palm against his, giving it a firm shake, and she flashed a smile before she walked away. Her soft curls bounced as she crossed the floor, leaving him feeling extra lonely. Though he’d seen her often, at the clinic, his attention was focused on Timmy. He’d never noticed how pretty she was. He was a head taller, he guessed. He liked her figure, not too curvy or thin. Just right. Firm and cozy looking. He ran his fingers through his hair, amazed at his wayward thoughts. Single, he was...but not like people who were really alone. He had Timmy and memories. Some mornings he woke and the empty bed sent shivers of longing through him. Having a wife to share his life had been a blessing. He’d asked God often what he’d done to deserve the deep ache that he felt with Jan’s loss. Then, he remembered that the Lord didn’t promise a life without sorrow or pain. He only promised forgiveness and salvation. Tim knew those gifts were his. Still, he wondered if life held anything else in store. A child who walked without pain and braces. That would be a blessing. And a wife? That picture, he’d never envisioned. But today, Julie had riled old yearnings. Perhaps one day, God would have another earthly mate for him. Someone like Julie perhaps, but not Julie. She was worthy of far more than Tim could offer. She deserves a man with a career. A man with a suit and white shirt. Not a factory rat like him.
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