Read The Footstool: A Christian Short Story Collection Page 7

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  As requested, Scottie delivered the check with the diamond ring on the payment tray. Nadia blushed as she slipped the ring on her slender finger. It was easily two sizes too big. Looking more closely at the ring, she must’ve noticed some scrapes in the gold because her brow furrowed. She asked, “Where’s the box, Lucas? Are you proposing to me with a second-hand ring?”

  My heart raced. I tried to explain. “The ring is special. I found it in the sofa. It’s…”

  Tears brimmed in Nadia’s eyes as she stood up. The twinkling ring was discarded onto the taupe tablecloth. “You found it in the sofa! That’s it. Lucas, you really did it this time.” With that, she zigzagged through the maze of tables and out the exit.

  Once again, I managed to capture an audience at the bistro. This time, however, I wanted to crawl under the table. Instead, I snatched up the ring, stood, and bowed to horrified couples on the left and right before waltzing out the door.

  With my pride in one back pocket and my heart in the other, I prayed, “Lord, I thought I was following your plan. Why did you let me fall in love with Nadia if you did not want me to marry her? Are you even there? Can you hear me?”

  The questions went unanswered. Without Nadia, there would be no gig to return to on the cruise ship. If I hurried, I might be able to catch Shasta before she locked up for the day. Perhaps I could rent my station again if no one took my place at the beauty shop during my absence.

  When I opened the glass door, I saw a familiar patch of white hair sitting in my swivel stool. Harper spotted my reflection in the mirror and cried out, “Lucas! Good to see you, young man.”

  Shasta had dyed her chartreuse highlights to violet highlights. She stopped cutting Harper’s hair and rolled her eyes at the sight of me.

  “You want your station back?” She breathed out a deep sigh.

  I ignored Shasta’s question and turned my attention to Harper. I decided the power to change variables beyond my control comes from making better choices at every crossroad, and this was certainly a crossroad. “Mable lost her ring in the cushions of the sofa you gave me. I found it and pawned it. I’m so sorry, Harper,” I confessed as I laid the ring next to a comb dispenser filled with red disinfectant.

  Harper picked up the ring and analyzed it before saying, “This isn’t Mable’s. Mable got the sofa reupholstered to match her blue curtains. I betcha this belongs to that upholsterer. Mable is the only one who would know the name so you might as well keep it.”

  I took the ring extended from Harper’s wrinkled hands and thanked him. I apologized again before returning to my apartment. As I walked home, I prayed aloud to the Lord. “Thanks for the opportunity to do what was right with the ring. I messed that up, but now it’s straight. Forgive me, Lord. I want to marry the person You want me to marry and nobody else. If it is not Nadia, let me never see her face again.”

  I placed my key in the lock and turned it, which made me realize it had been left unlocked. Even though I kept up on my apartment’s rent, Scottie stored boxes in it during the months I worked on the cruise ship. I figured he left it open. I had trouble getting to the light switch in the midst of the boxes, so I grasped the chain of a neon sign. The glow lit the room enough for me to spot Nadia’s silhouette on the sofa. She sat in her floral sundress with a smile on her face.

  “Scottie let me in. I hope you don’t mind.” Nadia leapt to her feet, hugged me, and whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry. If the ring is special to you, it is special to me. Let me see it again.”

  I dropped to one knee and clumsily withdrew the ring from my jeans pocket. Drawing a deep sigh of relief, I asked, “Nadia, will you be my wife?”