Save My Soul

The Restaurant [5]

5. The Restaurant

When the service is over, it seems that everyone is suddenly hugging and kissing everybody, and I hear endless renditions of ‘God bless you’ and ‘amen’ going around the church. We stand up and several folk come over to welcome us and ask us to please come back and wasn’t today’s sermon such a blessing? Lillian is smiling, nodding, hugging, and greeting. Jim shakes hands with all the men, and when the pastor comes walking past, Jim stops him and I see the two talking. Several older women can’t resist touching Katie’s black curls and they each beg a moment to hold the little one.

I only recognize a few people: one of the clerks at the grocery store, the librarian, and a few vaguely familiar parents of various classmates. Most people seem to think I’m Jamie’s sister; they ask him if we like Alexandria.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie says.

“How about you, honey? The weather isn’t ideal but then again, what can you expect from Minnesota?” one woman chortles.

“I’m used to it,” I mumble, but I don’t think she hears me.

Some mothers have their daughters standing next to them, and I can see the girls eyeing Jamie with shy interest. Lillian takes great pains to introduce Jamie and me to every teenager in the nearby vicinity, and I recognize a few of them: their eyes show faint recognition, but no one acts on it.

“Oh, so you’re new here, too!” I hear Lillian exclaim, and I look over to see a thin old woman standing next to a young girl who looks about my age, with long blond hair and bright, blue eyes. The girl smiles politely and nods. “We’ve been here three days; it’s lovely but so cold!” 

“I’ve lived here since I was a little girl but these winters only seem to get longer,” the old woman observes, then stops, closing her eyes. “Ah, but I can’t complain. This is a lovely town. God has blessed me. And Lord knows winter can be a mighty pretty thing.”

“It must be especially tough for you, coming from the warmer climates yourself,” Lillian says to the girl, and she nods. I notice that she’s wearing a sweater with jeans and a coat on top even though the church is heated.

“I’m trying to get used to it,” the girl says ruefully. “Arizona winters are nothing like this.”

“I can imagine,” Lillian shakes her head. “We spent a year in Australia and moving back to the States was definitely a culture shock.”

 “Well, we are certainly glad that the Lord brought you and your lovely family to our town,” the old woman says, and Lillian smiles gratefully. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. He brought you here so you may be certain that it’s for His own good pleasure and will.”

“Amen, sister.” Lillian says, cradling the older woman’s hand.

It’s then I realize the profound effect Lillian has: how profound her kindness extends, how deep her love. I watch her, dimly aware of the hub-bub all around, and I’m suddenly struck with jealousy. Jealous for her smile, which she’s giving the girl with the blond hair, jealous for her time and her laughter. I’m ashamed of feeling that way because she’s not mine, and I have no claim to her, but I feel it anyway, and it’s so strong I have to do something about it. I step forward, hesitantly touching her elbow. I don’t know what I mean to do. The old woman is saying something about the girl, who seems to be her granddaughter, and Lillian is nodding along attentively; but when she feels me standing next to her, she smiles down at me a hidden smile and slips her arm around my waist. Instantly, I feel that uncomfortable sensation in my gut seep away and I feel relieved. I look back at the old woman, and at the girl, proud now.