Page 50 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
Rolling my shoulders as much as the carrier will allow, I close the fridge. Ms. Rosa is coming by for her monthly chat. I look forward to these chats where we talk over the finances for the café, new recipes that I’ve tried, and just life in general. Between Mom and Ms. Rosa, I’m pretty sure that I know everything I need to know about running the café and being a mom. I would be lost without them.
Taking the towel from the counter, I wipe down the fridge. Ms. Rosa tells me I don’t have to make it spotless for our little meetings, but I enjoy cleaning and the look of a spotless kitchen. These meetings are my excuse for a monthly deep clean. I drop the towel into the laundry basket and make a note to carry it up later and do a load. I glance around the kitchen.
Is this what I’ll do for the rest of my life? A single mom, running a café in a small town? Oh, I wouldn’t trade Grace for anything, but some days I feel like I’m stuck in a rut. Like things will never change. Will Austin and I ever reconnect? Or will this emptiness remain, and if it does… How could I ever fall for or marry anyone else?
It’s September now, the season is over for Austin and the Silver Spurs. I find myself watching out the café windows everyday, wondering if he’ll show up. My cheeks heat as I think about the few times that I’ve stared at a blue truck driving by, wishing, longing; hoping that maybe, just maybe, it might be Austin. I’ve even ignored customers due to my staring. It’s embarrassing.
The bell over the front door jingles and announces Ms. Rosa’s arrival. I grab a plate of fresh cookies and hurry to the front of the café and watch as Coach helps Ms. Rosa into a seat. Every time we meet I nearly break down as I watch her grow weaker. She’s fought this cancer as hard as she can, but I knowthat the day is coming, sooner than later, when her fight will be over.
I set the plate of cookies down on the table in front of her and begin unstrapping Grace from the carrier.
“Oh, let me snuggle Grace real quick.” Rosa reaches across the table for the now awake and babbling little beauty who goes into her outstretched arms willingly. Her little giggle echoes off the walls as Ms. Rosa kisses her cheek. “How are you, little one?” A smile stretches her tired cheeks and tips her eyes upward.
Grace coos an answer back to Rosa, as if she knows exactly what Ms. Rosa said to her. They continue their banter for a few minutes before Ms. Rosa passes her back. “My old arms can’t hold her for that long anymore,” she whispers sadly. I’d noticed how her arms shook, and had prepared myself to step in and grab Grace if needed. My heart aches, watching this vibrant woman slowly fade before my eyes.
“How have you been feeling?” I ask, even though I know she’ll answer the way she always does. She’s lost weight, and the energy and vivacious spirit that used to fill her are missing.
“God is sustaining me. Don’t you worry.” She pats my hand. “Now, tell me about the café. How is business?” We go over the books and my most recent orders. I sell a custom cake about once a week. I would do more, but I have to be a present mom to Grace. I’m always on the lookout for new recipes, and Ms. Rosa is always happy to be my guinea pig. This month I have brown butter pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for her to try.
“Oh, Raegan, you sure know how to find some good recipes.” Rosa speaks around her mouthful of cookie. “Before you know it, you’ll have a whole chain of Raegan's cafés across the country.”
“No, no.” I hold up a hand. “I don’t need a chain. I’m happy feeding the folks of Clear Creek.” I laugh and shake my head.
“I can see why your revenue is always in the black. Raegan, you’ve done such an amazing job with the place.” She places herhand on top of mine. “Which is why I need to talk to you about what will happen to the café after God calls me home.”
My heart sinks. I’ve known that this day would come. But I’ve refused to think about it, pushing the thought from my mind every time it pops up. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Oh, Ms. Rosa.” I sniffle.
Grace burrows into my neck, seeming to sense my pain. She’s quite used to my crying. Her poor face has been splattered by my tears countless times. I swallow down the lump in my throat.
“We all know the day will come. And sometimes we get a little heads up, and sometimes we don’t. We just have to find comfort in knowing where we will go when the time comes.”
I nod.
“But what…” I can’t find the right words. The burden of guilt, shame, and now doubt, are so heavy. I still haven’t opened my Bible. I’ll play praise and worship music, I’ll sit in church, but my heart isn’t there. “I feel so far from God, Ms. Rosa.” I don’t swipe away the tears that fall from my eyes.
Ms. Rosa’s frail hand tenderly rubs mine.
I suck in a breath and continue on. “I’m pretty certain He’s saved me… I believe, well I did believe. But why did He pick me to go through this?” An ugly sob shakes my shoulders. “It overwhelms me. And some days I doubt if I ever was saved, or if God still loves me. Even though I know the truth.” I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip. “I don’t want to be weighed down. I don’t want to question God’s love. Question why He gave me this responsibility. I love Grace, more than anything, I’m not sorry she’s here. But I’m so tired of carrying this burden.”
Ms. Rosa doesn’t say anything. She just rubs my hand. Through my tears I watch Ms. Rosa’s lips moving. I know she’s praying. For me. The woman whose body is struggling in her battle against cancer is praying forme.
I leave my hand on the table, and tip back until my head rests on the back of the chair. I beg God to hear me, to help me. The song Ms. Rosa recommended last Christmas comes to me. “Love Lifted Me.”
God, use your love to lift me,I plead.
“Raegan.” Ms. Rosa clears her throat. Her eyes are vibrant and full of life as she speaks. “I think you’ve got your focus on the wrong things. You’ve spent so much time on guilt, on shame, on wallowing. On what you can feel. Instead of focusing on the promises God has given you in the Bible. Youareforgiven. Youarefree from sin. Youarefilled with the Holy Spirit, guiding you and interceding for you. Focus on who you are in Christ, not on the pain of sin. His blood washed the sins away, don’t hold on to them.”
A warmth starts in my heart. It spreads, and at the same time as it gives warmth, it makes me shiver; makes me feel alive. Iamforgiven. Iamfree from sin. Iamfilled with the Holy Spirit. I havenewlife in Christ.
A fresh batch of tears pour out, trailing down my cheeks where they soak into Grace’s hair. “You’re right, Ms. Rosa.” I wipe a hand across my cheek, taking snot and tears with it. “I have focused on the wrong things.” Not only do Iknowthat God has forgiven me, He has given me so much help on this journey. So much encouragement and love. I press a kiss to Grace’s tear covered head and meet Ms. Rosa’s eyes again. “You don’t know how much your words mean to me, how well you point me to Christ.”
Rosa just smiles at me.
After our little meeting, I start closing up the café. Mopping is always my last task. I strap Grace to my chest again and put all the chairs upside down on top of the tables. I’ve got the praise and worship playlist on, andLove Lifted Mefilters through the speakers as I mop.
I pop the mop into the bucket one last time and glance around the room. Nothing like a job well done. I look out the window, watching the citizens of Clear Creek walk past. But I’m not searching for Austin this time. I’m just watching my small town go about their day. One or two people glance up and wave. Then, I catch sight of a face I haven’t seen in over a year. Two faces. Kimberly and Izzy Thomas. Their heads cock to the side in curiosity, brows raised in surprise. I should wave, but I’m frozen in place. And before I can think of anything else to do, or what I would say, they walk off.
I close my eyes, breathe deep, and focus on not panicking. I choose to focus instead on who I am in Christ and not on the guilt and worry. But I can’t ignore the fact that Kimberly and Izzy Thomas just saw me and Grace. And they might tell Austin. Then where will I be?
