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A Heart Restored
by Deb Shirley
It was the eyes.
With just one quick glimpse, Rachel was captive.
Oblivious to her stare, the man at the
adjacent counter studied a bracelet dangling from the wrist of a
twenty-something blonde. The
flirtatious sales clerk leaned across the glass case exposing her upper thigh to
everyone behind her and, Rachel was certain, a lot more to those in front of
her. The girl placed her free hand
on the man’s neck, drew him close, and whispered in his ear.
Lines of disapproval appeared on his forehead as he jerked from her grope
and nodded toward a male salesclerk. The
women stiffened, waltzed across the floor, yanked the bracelet from her arm, and
dropped it in the hand of the store manager.
Rachel couldn’t help smiling as she
witnessed the scene. It was
encouraging to know there were still some men that weren’t vulnerable to the
enticement of youth and beauty. Without
intending to gape, her eyes remained fixed on the unsuspecting man.
There was a familiarity to the stranger’s movements.
She knew she should turn away, but something about him held her
spellbound. Suddenly, the azure eyes rested on her.
The man smiled revealing crinkles at the edges of his memorable eyes.
Rachel’s heart pounded as a flush traveled up her neck and settled on her face.
She willed herself to run away, but her body would not move.
Locked in a silent exchange, her face glowed while her eyes darkened in
fear. Without warning, her knees
gave way. She clutched the counter
for support as the man headed in her direction.
Terrified by his approach, she froze; her legs would not function.
As the man
rounded the corner of the display case, the sales manager intercepted him.
“Sir, you had a question about this bracelet?” he asked, waving the
item in front of the man. With
reluctance, he tore his eyes from the woman.
“Uh … yes,” he stuttered as he removed the hat he wore and wiped
his brow with the back of his hand. “I
… uh … I was wondering,” he stole one final glance at the flustered woman
before turning his full attention to the salesman. Rachel closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
She was certain that everyone could hear the pounding in her chest
reverberating through the tiny shop. Since
the man was occupied with the sales manager, she used the distraction to make
her escape. Rushing through the open
doorway, Rachel hoped the crashing of the surf would drown out the deafening
sound of her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.
What mystery behind the
eyes had awakened her stagnant heart? Why
did her corpse betray her with feelings she had buried a long time ago?
For Rachel, life ended nine months earlier when the voice on the phone
informed her that Richard was dead. Two
days later, she buried her heart with her husband.
Now, this strange man threatened to penetrate her deceased soul.
Racing to the safety of a nearby trolley, she leapt aboard and wrapped
both hands around a brass pole as she watched the street behind her.
The man was nowhere in sight, but it was too late.
Something about him had seized her spirit plummeting her into uncharted
territory.
Michael seized the package from the sales clerk and ran from the store just as the trolley disappeared over a hill. For several moments, he stood in the middle of the street dazed. He had missed many opportunities in his life, but for reasons unbeknown to him, this one unnerved him. The woman’s very essence screamed of pain and suffering. What was it about the injured soul that enchanted him? Why did he have an overwhelming desire to comfort her? He knew the features of her face; he had seen that look of anguish before ... but where? Who was this mysterious victim and why was he pursuing her? Beep!
Beep! Startled by
the noise, Michael turned to face an angry local shouting at him through the
open window of the cab, “You stupid tourist.
Get out of the road!” Michael stared
at the man as if he did not understand what he was saying. Hoooonnnnnkkkkkk!
This time the
blast of the horn lingered in the air. “Move!”
the cabbie screamed as he swerved around the stricken man. Michael lunged
for the sidewalk barely escaping the front fender of the cab as the driver sped
away. He grabbed a nearby
streetlight for support and fought to catch his breath.
It was not like him to be so impulsive.
He was not the type to chase a stranger through the streets, but
something about this woman drew him to her beyond logic.
“Who are
you?” he muttered loud enough that a man turned to answer. “Are you
talking to me?” the elderly man inquired. “Uh … no. I’m sorry,” Michael stammered as he turned and headed up the street in the direction of the trolley’s path. He didn’t know how, he wasn’t even sure why, but he had to find this woman. Somehow, someway, he would find her.
The moment the trolley slowed, Rachel jumped from the rolling vehicle and dashed to the sanctuary of her stateroom. Weary from her morning activities and the encounter with the man, the exhausted woman fell across the bed and drifted off to sleep. Within
moments, she and Richard were hand-in-hand hiking the path of a dense rain
forest. A heavy mist soaked their
face and hair. They wound their way
to the top of a hill and ventured onto a large rock overhanging the waters of
the With a jolt,
Rachel shot up from the bed and rushed to the lavatory to splash cold water on
her face. She stared at herself in
the mirror and chastised the reflection, “What is happening to you Rachel?
You don’t even know this man.” She reached
for a hand towel and dried her face before pulling her damp, matted hair from
the ponytail holder. For several
minutes, she studied the likeness of a woman she once knew.
The bags that hung under the bloodshot eyes accentuated sunken cheeks.
A face that had been rotund and filled with laughter a year earlier was
now pale and void of life. The hair,
usually cut in a flattering style, hung in a tangled mass over sagging
shoulders. Had it been Halloween,
she would have needed nothing more than a long, black dress to appear as a
witch. Rachel barely recognized the
image staring back at her. After flushing
her eyes with Visine, she moved to the balcony and drew in a deep breath of
salty air.
Her stomach growled. Since
it was after The vacation
had been a birthday present from her parents.
They intended it as therapy for her shattered soul, but Rachel had spent
most of the trip alone in her room or at the movie theater hidden in the
darkness. For the past six months,
she had tried to convince them that her heart was beyond repair.
Once in a heated exchange with her mother, she had screamed at her,
“Why can’t you understand? I
can’t get over losing Richard. I
won’t get over it!” Later, she
apologized for her outburst and her mom readily forgave her, but that’s when
they began to pressure her to take the cruise and she reluctantly agreed.
It was her way of making amends for her bad behavior. Rachel turned
the page of the booklet to a layout of the ship and studied the Sun Deck.
All week, she had avoided the pool, but with the other passenger’s
eating dinner, she decided a visit to the hot tub could help relax her aching
muscles. She changed into her
swimsuit, threw on a cover-up, and grabbed a towel before heading to the
elevator. When the doors opened on
the twelfth floor, she scanned the deck for people.
There was no one around. Rushing
to the tub, Rachel sank into the warm, bubbling water, closed her eyes, and
inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. Slowly,
she released the air. One,
two, three, four, five, she counted while slowly exhaling the air in her
lungs. After the third round of the
stress-release exercise, she felt relaxed. She
was certain the intruder would not find her in this secluded place.
Michael ate dinner
silently as the others at his table rambled on and on about their escapades.
While they had spent the day cruising around the island on a party boat,
he had trudged through the streets of Philipsburg searching for the mystery
woman. Clay
interrupted his thoughts, “Did you find a gift for your mom?” There was no
response. “Earth to
Michael!” He pounded the table to
get his attention. Michael glared
at him. “What?” “Man, you
must have had some day. What did you
do – find yourself one of those French chicks at “I think you
know me better than that!” Michael snapped. “Sorry!
I was just asking if you found a gift for your mom’s birthday.” “Oh!
Yes, I did. I bought her an
emerald bracelet. Mom has wanted one
for years and, well, my Dad sure can’t afford it.” Clay patted
him on the shoulder, “You’re a good son, my friend.” Michael
smiled. He recognized his friend’s
condescending tone, but it didn’t bother him.
His parents had made many sacrifices to put him through medical school
and, now that he was making decent money, he felt it an honor to be able to give
them nice things. “Listen,”
Clay continued, “we’re meeting some girls from the party cruise at the Sky
Club after dinner. Why don’t you
join us?” He knew Michael would
not go, but he didn’t want his pal to feel excluded. “I think
I’ll pass. I’m pretty tired,”
Michael lied. What he really wanted
was to be alone so he could develop his plan for locating the girl from the
shop. “Okay man,
if you’re sure.” Clay waved his
hand in front of the blank stare, “If you change your mind …” Snapping from
his trance, Michael responded as he rose to leave the table, “If I change my
mind, I’ll see you later. Okay?”
Without saying more, he turned and walked away. Clay watched
him depart. They had been friends
since high school and he knew Michael well enough to know when something was
bothering him. He recognized that
look; it was a woman; he was certain of it.
“Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath. Back in his
stateroom, Michael changed into jogging pants and took the elevator to the
thirteenth floor. He had no desire
to join his friend at the bar but hoped a run around Sky Deck would help clear
his mind. After completing four
laps, he paused to catch his breath. Michael knew
Clay suspected something. They had
been roommates in college and remained friends for the past ten years.
Most people were amazed that the two of them were so close.
They were complete opposites. Clay
was a party guy; Michael didn’t even drink.
Clay was a user who never took a relationship with a woman serious.
He dated the same girl for three years in college, but refused to marry
her. When she eventually gave up and
announced her engagement to someone else, he laughed it off and moved on to the
next unsuspecting victim. Michael, on
the other hand, only dated women he thought he could marry one day.
As a Christian deeply committed to his faith, he remained a virgin even
though he had previously been in three serious relationships. Michael
stared out at the darkness as he thought about the past.
He had dated Val six months before realizing that her career was her
life. When he told her he wanted to
marry and have a family, she made a hasty exit.
Lana wanted a large family, but after a year, Michael discovered that she
also wanted to live with her future husband to make sure they were compatible
before marriage. For him, living
together was not an option, so he broke it off.
Then there was Julie. She was
the one. She even looked like
God’s answer to prayer – long auburn hair, dark blue eyes and, to top it
off, she was an aerobics instructor with a sensational body.
They met at a Christian singles retreat.
Julie was involved in the ministry at her church and never missed the
annual event. Unfortunately, the
previous summer Michael’s father had bypass surgery a week before the retreat
and he stayed home while Julie attended without him.
They had been engaged for four months.
He thought she was committed to their relationship, but Julie returned
from the weekend, broke their engagement, and married a missionary doctor six
weeks later. It had been almost a
year and he still had not recovered from the devastating breakup.
Michael had never loved a woman as much as he loved Julie; he wasn’t
sure he ever could. Then today,
out of nowhere, this woman appeared. He
propped his arms on the railing and watched the moonbeams shimmering on top of
the black ocean surface. What
is it about this girl? I know that
face. But how?
Michael
convinced himself that the woman was on one of the other cruise ships.
There had been three ships anchored at St. Maarten that day.
In the distance, he observed the lights of the two other ships trailing
behind them. He imagined the woman
standing on one of the decks, her tousled hair blowing in the breeze, and her
wounded ebony eyes gazing into the night. He
didn't even know her name, but he felt he had known her for a lifetime.
As he leaned forward to stretch his legs before returning to his
stateroom, Michael noticed the hot tub on the deck below.
That is exactly what I need.
Instead of waiting for the elevator, he sprinted for the stairs and
jogged down the five flights to his floor eager to change clothes and return for
a long, relaxing soak.
With her muscles soothed by the rushing jets, Rachel opened her eyes and focused
on the night sky. Immediately, she
spotted Pleiades. As a young child,
her father often packed the telescope in the van and drove the family to a field
on the outskirts of Unfortunately,
since Richard’s death, Rachel felt more like the Lost Pleiad, Celaeno, than
the mass of stars she was observing. She
missed spending time with her siblings and their families, but it was agonizing
to be around them. Their lives were
whole; their homes were bulging with love. She
was a half-person in an empty house – no husband; no children; not even a dog.
Just her and walls that echoed with memories of what had been.
Footsteps
approaching the hot tub brought her back to the present.
She silently prayed whoever it was would pass by without stopping.
He didn’t. “How’s the
bubbles tonight?” the man asked in a thick Southern drawl. She ignored
him. “Hey,” he
staggered toward her, “I’m not bothering you, am I?” “Look,”
Rachel responded meeting his glazed eyes with a glare, “nothing personal, but
I really want to be alone. Okay?”
It was obvious
that the beer the man held in his hand was not his first.
He dropped into a poolside chair at the edge of the tub.
“Oh, come on honey. Me and
my friend over there,” he motioned to a second man striding toward them,
“we’re headed for the casino, and we need a good luck charm.
Come on out. Go with us?” “I’m sorry
about this,” the sober man said as he approached.
“John Boy here has had a little too much to drink.”
The stranger extended his hand in her direction.
“My name is Clay.” “I’m
Rachel,” she said, reluctantly shaking his hand.
“I was just telling your friend that I really would like to be alone
tonight.” “Are you
sure?” Clay prodded.
“There’s a lot of action in the casino.
It’ll take your mind off your troubles.”
“I’m
sure!” Rachel responded in a curt tone. Not
wishing to be rude, she softened her voice, “Besides, I have to get up early
for church in the morning.” Clay ran his
hand through his thick bleached waves, “Church on Friday?”
Rachel sighed.
“Tomorrow is Good Friday. The
cruise director has arranged a special service for the passengers at one of the
Moravian churches on the island.” “Oh!” Clay
chuckled nervously, “I guess I could do with a little church myself.”
An uncomfortable pause hung in the air between them as his eyes shifted
to a couple of sparsely clad women jogging by on the deck above them.
After several silent moments, he cleared his throat, “Well … uh …
Rachel, you have a good night.” A loud snort
erupted from the other man who had fallen asleep in the lounge chair.
“Wake up,
John Boy,” Clay barked, kicking the other man’s shoes.
“Get up! The dice are
calling my name.” He pulled the
reluctant drunk from the chair, draped the man’s arm across his own shoulder,
and supported him as they made their way toward the elevator. Rachel watched
cautiously until the doors closed behind the pair.
The first man had left her with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her
stomach. She was grateful that Clay
showed up when he did, because she wasn’t sure what the drunk would have done
next. Clay seemed
like a nice enough guy. Rachel was
certain with his rugged Robert Redford appearance that his belt was notched with
many broken hearts. Lucky for her,
he was not at all her type. Unlike
the one from the morning who was exactly what she looked for in a man.
He was tall and muscular. The
white t-shirt he had been wearing emphasized his deep tan.
His coal black hair was barely visible under a New York Yankees’
baseball cap and he bore a thick five o’clock shadow.
Why can’t I get this guy out of
my head? Rachel, you have got to get
a grip, she reprimanded herself.
Not wishing to
see anyone else, Rachel slipped from the tub, quickly dried off, threw on her
cover-up, and pressed the down button for the elevator.
She glanced at the numbers above the doors.
According to the light, the elevator was stopped on the eighth floor.
While waiting, she glimpsed the reflection of the full moon dancing on
the ocean surface. The peaceful
setting drew her to the side railing. She
closed her eyes and breathed in the salty ocean air as the gentle breeze cooled
her sun burnt face. Gazing into the
darkness, she felt a calmness that had escaped her all week.
She could almost sense God wrapping His arms around her and soothing her
aching heart. The elevator doors
opened behind her, but Rachel lingered in place to enjoy the rare tranquility.
Michael exited the
elevator and immediately scanned the hot tub.
He was relieved to see it empty and thankful that Clay had other plans
tonight. Without his prying
questions, he could spend his time formulating a plan.
Swiftly, he immersed himself into the warm water, closed his eyes, and
recalled the face of the woman. Her pale,
freckled skin was bright pink, probably from over-exposure to the sun.
Her braided, damp ponytail hung to her waist and long bangs swept
carelessly across her forehead with several twigs hanging in her eyes.
The hollow cheeks emphasized her solemn face; sadness enveloped her.
Why did she run off when I smiled at her? He
had felt her watching him; something drew her to him.
Michael silently asked God to place her in his path, but with the cruise
ending in two days, he wasn’t sure that God would answer his prayer.
Lord, I know I’m asking a lot,
but this woman needs me. I know that
my reaction to her is not logical, but there is just something about her.
I don’t know what happened to cause so much pain, but You do.
Please … please just give me one more chance.
Lord, thank you for tonight.
It’s been so long since I have felt your peace in my soul – so long
since I have allowed you to comfort me. I
know you do not intend for me to live in agony, but God, I just can’t move on.
I miss Richard. I’d give
anything for just one hour in his arms again.
It hurts so much. I’m so
lonely. That man may have rocked my
resolve, but all he really did was make me miss Richard even more.
Why am I thinking about him again? Why
do I see his eyes every time I close mine? God,
I’m just not ready. I don’t want
to feel again – not yet. Please
let the peace I felt earlier remain with me for a while.
Please, dear God, clear my mind of this stranger.
Help me. I need you.
Rachel sat the
journal aside and finished her warm drink while she allowed the sound of the
gentle waves splashing against the hull of the ship to steady her soul.
After a long quiet period of reflection, she returned to the cabin,
showered, and crawled into bed with the assurance that nothing would disturb her
peaceful slumber. The next
morning, Rachel awoke early refreshed by a dreamless night.
It was the first time since Richard’s death that she slept all night
without nightmares about the car accident that took him from her.
With a lighter heart, she dressed quickly and found herself on the first
tender leaving the ship. Carrying a
small lunch of fresh fruit and bottled water in her bag, she sprinted up the
hill and arrived at Rachel opened
the back door and was pleased to find the building empty.
After her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she made her way up the center
aisle and around the front to slip into the far side of the second pew.
She closed her eyes and meditated in silence.
The events of the preceding day had been troubling, but she was content
knowing that she would return home without another encounter with the stranger.
She looked forward to telling her parents the good news that she was on
speaking terms with God again. They
would probably be disappointed that she had not made more progress in her week
long vacation, but they would be thrilled to know that their prayers were
getting through. Rachel knew that
what they really wanted was for her to find another man, but she was just not
ready - not yet. She wasn’t sure
that she would ever be. Richard had
been her entire life. Until now, not
even God had been able to fill the abyss where there had once been a heart.
Even though it was still shattered, at least now the pieces were exposed
and laid open before God so He could begin the healing that she knew would
eventually come. The large
wooden door at the back of the building creaked as someone opened it.
She remained seated with her head bowed as the footsteps echoed
throughout the structure.
As he entered
the building, the congregation was finishing the final stanza of Amazing Grace.
Michael slid into an empty spot on the back row and joined in singing,
“We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise, than when we first begun.” The pastor
stood and asked everyone to sit. As
he settled into the pew, Michael quickly prayed again for God to intervene in
helping him find the woman. His ship
would be returning to As the pastor
spoke, his mind wandered. To try to
break the obsessive hold the woman had on him, Michael surveyed the humble
surroundings of the small church. Lord,
what storm in her life caused so much pain? A burning desire consumed
Michael. He had to know what
happened to her; he had to find her. How?
He had exhausted every plan without formulating one that was anywhere
near practical. He thought about
bribing the cruise directors on all the ships that had been docked at St.
Maarten, but with privacy matters being what they are, he knew that plan would
never work. He considered hiring a
private investigator, but he couldn’t begin to tell him where to start
looking. He contemplated returning
to St. Maarten and doing a thorough search, but that seemed like a dead end.
Nothing he came up with seemed even close to being rational, so once
again, he resorted to prayer. Lord,
please help me find her.
As the other
worshippers bowed their heads for the closing prayer, Rachel quietly slipped
through the side door of the chapel. A
large banana tree
stood at the edge of a cemetery overlooking the island.
It was a perfect place to hide from the crowd and write in her journal.
She settled on a soft spot of earth just as the service ended and the
other worshippers headed down the hill for the festivities on the beach.
After
finishing her lunch, she turned to a blank page of her journal and began to
write. Friday
– March 21. This vacation finally
ends tomorrow. I can’t wait to go
home. I’m safe…
A large drop of water blurred the words on the page.
Rachel glanced at the threatening sky before returning to her diary.
I’m safe from the stranger,
she continued. Another drop fell on
her words, followed by another, and then another.
With no further warning, the heavens opened.
She quickly stuffed her belongings into her shoulder bag and raced for
the church as the rain pelted her face. Rachel
ran the length of the muddy path holding the leather case over her head.
As she neared the stone staircase leading to the side door, her shoes hit
a slick patch of grass and both feet flew out from under her.
Midair, she caught sight of a man rounding the back corner of the church.
He was running toward her when her head struck the ground and everything
went black.
The man carried the
lifeless form into the building. Cradling
her neck gently with one hand, he rubbed the back of her head with his other
searching for blood. He breathed a
sigh of relief that she wasn’t bleeding even though he did discover a large
lump. He lifted the long braid from
her shoulder and placed it under her as he lowered her head onto the muddy mass
of hair. Using the hem of his soaked
t-shirt, he wiped the grime from her damp, freckled face.
He untangled the leather strap from her arm and placed the black bag on
the floor beside her. When he did,
he noticed a silver inscription on the front – Rachel Jones Anderson.
Rachel Jones! That’s
it! You’re Rachel Jones! Memories
flooded his mind. He tenderly spoke
to the unconscious woman, “Rachel. Rachel,
wake up.” He patted her face as he
beckoned, “Come on, sweetie. Open
your eyes.” Rachel could
hear a familiar voice calling her name. She
had fallen off the swing in Maria’s backyard. “Rachel!”
The frightened
voice grew impatient. “Wake up.”
She tried to
open her eyes. She needed to let him
know that she was okay. He thought
he was responsible. After all, he
had been pushing her. He knew it was
too high, but the little girl wanted to touch the sky.
Her mind raced. She needed to
open her eyes and tell him it wasn’t his fault.
She wanted to wake up and wrap her arms around his neck and never let go.
Rachel wondered if Maria’s older brother knew how she felt about him.
She was only twelve, but she loved Michael Bradley with all her heart.
“Rachel!
Come on, honey. You’re
scaring me now.” As a doctor, he
knew the dangers of a concussion if the patient was knocked out for too long.
He patted her on the cheek. He
patted her again, harder. “Wake
up!” A slap stung
her face. Her eyes popped opened. “Michael?” “Welcome
back!” Huge dimples appeared on
his cheeks as he pulled the woman into a tight embrace and held her for several
breathless moments. “You’re okay
now. I’ve got you,” he
whispered. She coughed as
she struggled to catch her breath. He gently
returned her to the floor and stared into her eyes.
“You are okay, aren’t you?” The blue eyes
of the boy were filled with concern. “It’s not
your fault,” she explained. “I
shouldn’t have made you push me so high. I
should have held on to the rope tighter.” “Rachi,”
he chuckled, using the pet name he gave her as a child, “sweetie, you didn’t
fall off the swing this time.” Michael
stroked the lines of her face as he clarified, “You just fell.” Rachel beamed.
She had fallen. She had
fallen for the man belonging to the azure eyes, but they weren’t the eyes of a
stranger. They belonged to her
friend – her hero – her first love.
“Michael?” “Yes?” “Did my
mother send you?” Michael
smiled, “No, honey. God did.” “Oh!”
Rachel batted
her eyelids as Michael brushed the drenched bangs from her eyes.
When he lowered his face to hers, she closed her eyes and savored every
second of the lingering, tender kiss he planted on her forehead.
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Last modified: July 06, 2007
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