The Prayer Part 2 by Andrea DiMaggio

I Love Being Here with You!

"Good morning, Mr. Stuart." Maeve said as Cal walked into the Guidance Office.

"Good morning, Maeve, and please, call me Cal." Part of him wanted to call her Mrs. Stuart, even though they'd only been on two dates, not counting Gina's "set-up" dinner party. Gina was right, you know. You may recall that Gina felt that Cal was one of those people you just know was meant to be married. But here's where it gets confusing, at least for Cal.

Cal and his sister Nina were very close growing up; they were almost inseparable, which was odd since he was the older brother. It was surprising to some that he didn't want to hang out with his friends, but he adored his "baby sister," even though they were born only seventeen months apart. They spent much more time together than most brothers and sisters, especially well into their teen years. And she did know his secret...

Cal loved to play dress up. Never an athletic kid to begin with, he tried his hand at baseball and basketball and failed miserably. He actually was a fair soccer player, but had little support from home. It didn't help that his parents got married later in life, and that his Dad was well into his late fifties when Cal was in middle school. So the stuff dad's usually do never took place. His Mom and Dad loved both kids very much, but just didn't have to time or energy to reinforce and encourage them and neither parent survived past their children’s high school graduation. Nina had friends with great families but Cal had few friends, and he preferred Nina's company.

Nina discovered Cal's secret quite accidentally. She walked into the bathroom one afternoon shortly after his fourteenth birthday, only to find him wearing her new green halter top and a maroon denim mini-skirt. He had expected the worst, and tried to hide behind the curtain in the shower, crying,

"I'm sorry, Nina." He said it several times; all the while his sobs grew softer and quieter. She pulled back the curtain to find him sitting down in the corner of the tub with his head in his hands, weeping softly. She reached down and stroked his hair. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead and said,

"Honey, you've made a big mistake." He looked up at her and blinked out some tears. He expected the worst until she laughed softly and said,

"Silly, green's not your color at all. Come on, sweetie; let's find something that you'll look good in." He actually pinched himself like they say in some stories, believing it all to be a dream. It was a dream, in a way, since he could never have imagined anyone accepting him for who he was. He wanted so badly to be accepted, and the only way he felt he might fit in is if he were a girl. Not a real girl, per se; he just felt more comfortable being exactly like the person whom he not only loved and respected, but resembled almost to a tee. Surprising, as you may have read previously, he never; excuse me; she never had a name until after Nina’s death, and it was Nina's example that helped her gain the name Annabeth, which, as you may remember, means blessing of grace. From the day she discovered her new "sister" until the last day they spoke, Nina always called her Sweetie. Nina wanted her sister to know that she considered her to be a sweet girl, worthy of acceptance, and it was a secret that was kept, not from fear or doubt, but out of love and a precious gift that they shared.

Maeve sat at her dressing table combing her long red hair. Maeve Ryan, as you may recall, was a "late bloomer," as some would say. She was a pretty girl, not in the "gorgeous" sense, but not in the "ordinary" sense either. Her complexion was almost alabaster, with nice Irish rosy cheeks and a cute nose. She had almost violet colored eyes, atypical for a redhead, but maybe you know more about genes and that sort of thing than I do. She had grown up with little reinforcement or encouragement. Her parents loved her, but they never received those things from their own parents, so they had no way of imparting them to their daughter. So despite her absolutely lovely looks, she grew up believing that she was plain and unlovable, at least in the sexual sense (yes, even some pretty girls might have a lack of esteem in that area.) And since she had no direction or guidance from her parents, she stumbled through college, changing major after major, settling (for her) on a business degree. Three years of therapy and the love and support of friends at church and her colleagues at the guidance department convinced her to return to school, and she was one or two classes away from a BS in Psychology with plans for grad school and beyond. After nearly ten years of drifting, she finally gained her bearings and had enough strength to offer herself to the benefit of others. She had never been selfish; she just never believed she had anything to offer anyone. But now she felt she had much to offer; and to one person in particular.

She continued to comb her hair, singing softly to herself.

“Singing in the shower; laughing by the hour; life is such a breezy game." She didn't play piano like Diana Krall but she wasn’t bad either , and she sang just as good, and just as sensual, as someone soon would find out. She had fallen "head over heels,' as my mother used to say for Cal Stuart, and was hoping against hope that the feeling was mutual.

Annabeth sat in her living room, her legs curled up under her, covered by a nice crocheted throw, reading the latest Jesse Stone novel while the sounds of Diana Krall‘s rendition of “It Could Happen to You” played in the background . She had decided that she would wear whatever she wanted as long as she was home, and her dress was nice, full-skirted, and a delightful claret color. Her blond hair was collar length, suiting her needs for in and out of the house, if you follow me. She wore a tortoiseshell colored hair clip, more for the look than need, at least at that point. She wore just a little eye shadow and lip gloss that matched her dress. She felt good about herself, not in a vain sense, since she was as modest and humble a person as anyone would want to meet. She just felt like things were as they should be. There was a small stirring deep inside, however, and while not uncomfortable, it still provoked a nice but uneasy sensation, as if something was about to change. She couldn't imagine things getting any better, but she no longer feared things getting worse. She had weathered the early death of her parents, and was content in her grief over her sister's death, if that makes any sense. It just never occurred to her that God had plans for her that included someone else....which He did.

“Dr. Kelly, do you have a moment?” Maeve stood in Gina’s doorway with a look that said “I need to talk with someone; anyone; now!” Gina had given up on asking Maeve to call her Gina, so she just said, “Of course, invaluable yet woefully underappreciated Miss Ryan,” which got a laugh and an embarrassed grin from Maeve.

“It’s about me and Mr. Stuart….Cal.” She said it sweetly, as if he were in the room to hear her lovely voice. “We’ve been on four dates already, and I think he likes me more than just a little, but he doesn’t say anything.”

“Honey, believe me, I know how hard it is to wait, but keep in mind his sister’s death happened only a few months ago. Give it time. He must be interested if he keeps asking you out.”

“That’s just it…I’m the one who asks, apart from the first time. I don’t want to waste my time or his, but I just….”

“Adore him?” Gina teased, but she saw that Maeve had started to cry.

“I heard him the day you told him how important he was. How his sister would have been proud. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was crying so hard, and I…” Gina walked over and grabbed Maeve’s arm, pulling her inside the office. She closed the door and pulled Maeve close for a comforting hug. Maeve’s sobs grew deeper, almost duplicating the scene between Gina and Cal months before.

“You didn’t mean to fall in love, but you did, sweetie. You really did!” Gina patted Maeve on the back. “I know it hurts not to know, but give it a little time….I think you’ll be glad you did, and I know Cal will, too. Ben and I have been praying for you; we saw something in your look at him last week at the cookout. You’ve got it bad, sweetie, and the only cure is time and patience, both of which hurt like hell. Hang in there, honey, it’s going to be alright” Maeve would find out that the plans for Cal…Annabeth, actually, included her, and would be more than just alright; in fact, they would be just the thing that both of them needed…

Next: Oh I love to hear you say my name…