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Or maybe it was fear. Fear she wouldn’t be able to live up to the memories of a first wife. Whether she had died, or whether he was divorced. She supposed there was definitely fear involved.
“Just don’t close your eyes to the possibility,” Sunday advised her, patting her arm. “I’d feel a lot better if I felt like you were happy.”
“I am happy.” She was. Usually. What more could a woman want than to have her children surrounding her, happily married, with spouses that God had chosen, and with grandchildren growing up near her home, lots of family get-togethers, and in the community that she loved and felt like she was a part of?
She did long for a relationship with someone, sure. Someone who cherished her, knew what she was like deep down inside and loved her anyway. Someone to snuggle with at night, someone to hold her hand, someone to walk through the most difficult time of her life so far, old age.
“It looks like my husband wants to dance,” Sunday said, happiness and excitement in her voice. “Don’t forget what I said, okay?”
“If God is clear, I’ll do what He wants,” was the only promise that Lana would make. Anything else just seemed like it was too hard.
She smiled as Sunday hurried off, embracing her husband, and stepping into his arms with the familiarity of one who knew she was loved and who loved in return.
It made Lana’s heart happy to see her daughter was with someone who cared so much about her.
She finished straightening the cookie trays, and then stood up, looking over the dance floor at the couples who were slow dancing.
Over on the far side, her eyes caught on something that she wasn’t expecting, and she moved back, squinting to look a little closer.
Pierre? Yes, she was sure that was Pierre, the son of the man she had been visiting for several years now at the lighthouse up the beach.
Pierre was not alone.
As she watched, three small children stayed close to his legs - a little girl held tightly to his hand, while two boys pressed against each side.
She remembered the one and only time she’d spoken with him. She’d been so out of character, being so brazen as to suggest that he do something meaningful with his life. She never talked like that to strangers, and never to acquaintances or family of people she considered friends.
But, all that aside, could it be that Pierre took her seriously?
As far as she knew he just had an adult daughter and that daughter did not have any children.
As he moved, she looked around for Joe, his father, but she did not see him.
Was it possible that Pierre had come to the Beach Bash at Strawberry Sands with...foster children?
Straightening her spine, she moved around the edge of the dance floor, careful to stay out of the couples’ way, and made her way over to Pierre, whose eyes roved over the dance floor, as though he was looking for someone.
“Pierre! I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. But I’m glad you’re here,” she said, unable to keep the surprise out of her tone.
But she gave the children a benevolent smile. “And you brought some friends.”
“These are my foster kids,” Pierre said, and while the words were simple, there was a message in his eyes that Lana couldn’t miss. He had the children because of her.
She didn’t think for one second that she had that much influence over anyone, and for a few moments she was speechless.
“You listened to me.”
“You made sense.”
She’d said something about not wasting his life. About living for something higher than himself. About how he was doing everything he did to make himself more comfortable, looking forward to his free time so he could spend it making himself happy.
“I’m sorry. I regretted that conversation for a long time. I still regret it.”
“Don’t. I think that conversation changed my life. It definitely made me realize a few things.” Their eyes met and held, and then, he broke eye contact and smiled a little, indicating the children around him.
“Let me introduce you to my foster children,” he said, patting the little girl on the head, before indicating the two boys.
He rattled off their names, and Lana listened, but the whole time she felt convicted about herself. She had suggested that he do something with his life, and immediately he had gone and done something. Something meaningful, something sacrificial, something not the least bit selfish or self-centered. And yet there she was; she hadn’t changed a thing.
