A Perfect Match. Deb Kastner
paragraph, fight to understand each word.
“Lord, what am I doing wrong?” she whispered in misery.
Julia walked outside onto the small balcony and leaned as far as she could into the redwood railing to see around the corner of the building and get a glimpse of the rising sun. The wood under her hands had eroded from the elements and she had to be careful for splinters, but it was worth the discomfort to feel the heat of the sun on her face.
Besides, it had been her habit since childhood to watch the sun rise. She breathed deeply, letting all her stress go for that one moment. The warmth on her face was like an instant connection with the Son, a reminder that in His arms was true warmth.
It was her favorite time of the morning, where the world was still fresh and clean, not marred by the contents of the day. As always, she wondered what this day would bring. Only God knew.
Lakeisha was a late sleeper, so early morning was Julia’s special time with the Lord. It was a good thing she had this time alone, because she sometimes talked aloud when she prayed.
Like this morning.
“I’m not doing enough, am I?” she asked, looking up at the cloudy sky as if waiting for an audible answer, though of course she knew better than that. Oh, that life was so easy.
As she looked back down at her worn burgundy leather Bible, she traced the gold lettering that graced the front. As much as she’d like her answers face-to-face, she settled for knowing she could take Bible 101 when she got to heaven and have all her questions answered to her satisfaction.
The telephone rang, and she raced to the kitchen to grab the phone off the wall. She juggled and then dropped the receiver in her haste to answer before the ring disturbed Lakeisha.
Swiping up the receiver from where it dangled near her feet, she cleared her throat and muttered a greeting.
“Julia.”
Once again, the receiver hit the floor, this time sliding right out of her limp hands.
She stared down at the swinging handset, praying desperately this situation would simply go away, for on the other end of the line was the one man’s voice she never wanted to hear again. Not ever.
So help her God.
“Julia, it’s Daddy.”
Julia cringed, inwardly and outwardly, as her stomach flipped over and hurled itself around like a carnival ride.
He still had the nerve to call himself Daddy, after all this time. Shaking, she pulled the receiver close, pressing it hard against her ear. She could hear the sound of her father’s rapid breathing on the other end of the line and knew it matched her own.
He cleared his throat. “I’m in Denver.”
Silence crackled on the line, and Julia knew he was waiting for a response.
She had none to give. Her father was in Denver? It was too much to fathom.
“Why?” Her question was low and guttural.
“I’ve been thinking about you. How have you been?”
Julia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her mind swam with thick gray rage until she thought her head might burst. She couldn’t talk to him. There were no words to express what she felt.
“Like you care.” That was a start.
“You know I do,” her father replied, his voice hoarse and cracking with emotion.
Julia shuddered. She didn’t want to hear this. Not a word of it. This man had no right to call himself her father. She swallowed hard as she bit back tears.
“Can we meet somewhere for coffee? Please? I just need to see you again. See with my own eyes that you’re doing okay.”
“No.” No way. Knowing bitterness had crept into her tone, she gripped her fingernails into her fist until the sting of her pinched flesh replaced the sting of her heart.
“No? Just no? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I can’t accept that, Julia. I came to Denver so we could—”
“We aren’t going to do anything. Do you understand that?”
“I understand,” her father said quietly. “But I can’t accept it.”
“That’s my final answer. You’re going to have to accept it. I’m too old to need a father watching over me. Don’t try to come into my life now. It’s too late for that. Just go on your merry way and stay out of my life.”
Quietly, shakily, she replaced the receiver on the phone, finding comfort in its audible click. Taking deep breaths, she consciously shoved the painful memories back into a dark pocket in the recesses of her mind.
She had a life of her own now. She didn’t need, or want, her father in her life. Closing her eyes and slumping against the kitchen counter, she ferociously ignored the painful tug of her heart.
“I’ve got to get on with my life, Lord,” she said aloud, but the words just floated away on empty space.
A knock sounded on the front door. Julia glanced at the clock. It was still early for visitors, just past eight-thirty. Still, she was glad for the excuse to push her own dilemma aside for the moment, and she rushed to answer the door.
Zeke Taylor stood on the other side, shifting from foot to foot and jamming his fingers through his thick blond hair. Tip wandered around his legs, sniffing at the concrete landing.
Not quite sure what to do with the man, Julia crouched and welcomed the dog. Tip immediately came to her, barking in delight and rubbing her head against Julia’s hands. The dog didn’t even seem to notice the splint on her leg. It hardly hampered her movements at all.
“She’s looking great,” Julia commented, looking up at Zeke.
The big man stuffed his hands in his pockets and grinned. “I wish I could take the credit for it, but it’s all Tip’s doing. She’s a real trooper.”
Julia stood and gestured for Zeke to come in. “You’re just being modest.”
Zeke chuckled. It was a deep, affectionate sound that warmed Julia’s heart. “If you say so.”
“I do.” Julia settled on the sofa, and Zeke sat in the easy chair catty-corner to her.
He leaned his elbows on his knees and caught her gaze. For a moment he said nothing, just stared at her as if he could read her mind.
“What’s wrong, Julia?” His question was such a low murmur Julia wondered if she’d even heard him correctly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Maybe I should be begging your pardon,” he said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”
She laughed shakily, a little unsettled by Zeke’s discernment. Maybe he could read her mind through her eyes. Or maybe she was wearing her heart on her sleeve for all to see.
She straightened her spine and tipped her chin a notch or two. It wasn’t Zeke’s business why she was feeling this way, and he had no right to pry. She didn’t have to tell him anything.
But as she looked into his kind gaze, she quickly realized it wasn’t Zeke she was angry with. And Zeke wasn’t pressuring her—he was sitting patiently, looking concerned and a little out of place.
She opened her mouth to tell him she was okay, but that’s not what came out. “My father just called.”
His eyes narrowed, and he stroked his beard with one hand. “I see,” he said, though he clearly didn’t.
“We’re not exactly on speaking terms.”
Zeke didn’t ask why, but