Her apartment was in the rear of the complex and quite secluded. Micah appreciated the privacy and quiet when she worked on her paintings. Sliding the key into the lock, she pushed open the door, hoping she hadn't left too big of a mess that morning. Reaching into the straw basket mounted just outside the doorway, she pulled several items of mail from the wicker container.
“Good evening, Patches,” she said to the cat who ran down the sidewalk to greet her. The pet rubbed around her ankles and had to be held back to be kept from entering the apartment.
A sigh of relief escaped her as she saw that the place was fairly neat. She placed the mail and her books on the end table beside her small floral-print sofa in the living room then went to the kitchen to gather up sections of the morning newspaper strewn over the table. Grabbing the coffee cup and saucer left from breakfast, she plunked them into the dishpan, and after checking the refrigerator for the items she needed and finding a package of sausage that she had hoped was there, she headed for the bathroom to shower and change. Then, right on time, the doorbell rang.
“Hello, again,” Rob said as she opened the door.
“Hi. Tulips?” she commented, admiring the bouquet he handed to her. “Thank you. They're beautiful, Rob, but a pancake dinner hardly justifies flowers.”
“We worked well together this afternoon, Micah. We have reason to celebrate. I hope I selected a kind you are not allergic to.” He paused. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Her soft casual dress had swirls of pastel colors making up its design. She knew it was lovely. That's why she wore it, even after a tenminute argument with herself about her choice. “The flowers are perfect Please, come in.”
Rob stepped into the living room. “Your apartment wasn't easy to find, tucked away in this little courtyard.”
“It is secluded. That's one of the reasons I like it.”
“I checked with the hospital,” Rob said as she closed the front door. “The janitor is doing better. He's in ICU, and his name is Donald Lacey.”
“And he's still alive. That's wonderful!” Micah exclaimed, so excited by the report that she nearly hugged Rob. But she caught herself in time and kept her feet firmly planted where they were. Suddenly, she felt awkward, standing there with him. “I'll start the pancakes. The sausage is nearly ready.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, thanks. The table is set, and the batter is made. Just make yourself comfortable.” Micah motioned toward the sofa, offering him a seat Then she disappeared into the kitchen. Pulling a large white vase from the cabinet below the sink, she filled it with water and the fresh-cut flowers and set it on the table.
Micah listened to the sound of several books being pulled from her oak bookcase and then, after a moment, being returned one by one.
“You have a nice apartment”
She looked up at the nearness of his voice. Rob stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her pour pancake batter onto the hot griddle.
“Thanks. It's small but I like it.” She pulled a spatula from the silverware drawer.
“Yellow must be your favorite color,” he commented as he glanced around the narrow white room accented with yellow curtains, yellow canisters and various other brightly colored kitchen accessories, including the yellow flowers she had stenciled across the top of the walls.
“Favorite color in general, but not a favorite in clothing.” She turned the pancakes. “All this red hair and yellow just don't mix.”
“I've yet to see a color that you wouldn't look lovely in,” Rob stated.
Micah's green eyes widened in surprise at his statement She looked over at him, meeting his steady gaze. “Thank you,” she offered quietly.
“No need to thank me,” he replied. “It's just a statement of fact.”
Micah returned her gaze to the browning sausage rather than look into his eyes. No one had ever said anything like that to her. At least, no one over the age of eight.
“I'll bet you've broken the hearts of quite a few little guys in your classes.”
Micah glanced up, and smiled. “One or two, I'm afraid.” She turned down the burner under the meat. “It seems easy for them to develop a crush on a substitute teacher.”
“I can understand that,” he commented.
Micah continued, “Anyway, it can sometimes be awkward.” Just as awkward as this moment in her kitchen with Robert Granston. “I'm usually left wondering if I handled the situation well.” When she stacked the first pile of pancakes onto a small plate, Micah accidently knocked the empty measuring cup from the counter and both she and Rob reached for it. But she was closer and quicker.
“I've got it,” she said quietly as they leaned together momentarily. They were so close, Micah felt his breath flow across her cheek, and for an instant she wondered if he was about to kiss her. But he only touched the softness of her hair that swung freely around her shoulders. Then he stood up, moving away from her.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Micah commented and returned to the job at hand.
Within a few minutes they sat down at the kitchen table. Then came the moment Micah knew would be difficult. It always was. Even after a decade of dealing with it. She bowed her head and offered a brief prayer, in front of this man she hardly knew. When finished, she looked up to meet his gaze and found nothing questioning or negative in his eyes. Only acceptance, and maybe approval, which was more than she expected. Micah smiled and passed the syrup, and they shared a late-evening breakfast.
“So, how long have you been a Christian?” Rob asked.
“Ten years. That obvious, huh?” she replied between sips of orange juice.
Rob smiled. “Well, you quietly prayed your way through Mr. Lacey's heart attack, and you audibly thanked God for our dinner, not knowing what my reaction would be. That's pretty strong evidence.”
“And just what is your reaction?” Micah asked.
“One of respect,” he responded as something cold—no, sad—flickered through the blue eyes that held her gaze too easily. His smile slowly faded.
“To give your life to God or not, it's a choice we all eventually make, Rob.”
“I've tried it, Micah. It didn't work for me.” Rob turned his attention to the coffee cup in his hand.
“What went wrong?”
He shook his head. “It would take less time to tell you what didn't go wrong.” His smile returned. “And I don't want to spend this evening talking about something unpleasant that happened years ago.”
So Micah left the subject alone, hoping… knowing that sometime they'd come back to it. In the meantime, Micah's school stories and Rob's tales of unusual cases kept conversation and laughter flowing freely throughout the meal.
“So when she asked me to come to the job fair, I couldn't refuse. I have a hard time saying no to my little sister,” Rob said as Micah poured a third, or maybe it was the fourth, round of coffee. She had lost count.
“It must be nice,” Micah said and took a sip from the cup she cradled in her hand.
“Having a sister to talk you into things?”
“Having a sister, period.”
Rob looked at her silently for a moment. “You don't have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. My parents weren't young when they had me, so I am their only child.”
“Then