the freshman class

Sonoma slapped the cover of the book shut and stared out the window. The campus of the little Christian college was pretty in the autumn. Sugar maples and oaks scattered colorful leaves like a child shaking glitter from a bottle. The afternoon sun cast a tawny glow over the stone buildings. A few students were walking over to the dining hall—probably going to the Coffee Nook where everyone gathered for snacks and conversation. She ought to head that way herself. 

     Her college experience thus far had been like riding Dippity Street back home in Centerville—a succession of highs and lows. She had welcomed them all since God put her here in the first place. But, she had to admit, collateral reading was not on her list of favorite things.

     The door flung open. It was her roommate, Beverly. She was grinning. “Come on, Roomie. I just saw him.”

     Sonoma didn’t have to ask who. She rolled her eyes. “Let up, Bev.” 

     Beverly didn’t listen. She shoved back a strand of brown hair that had escaped her thick braid. “You’ve read enough. Let’s go.” 

     Sonoma grabbed her book bag and her brown hoodie on the way out. The weather was getting chillier every day. The Coffee Nook was crowded with students — talking, eating, studying, and laughing. Sonoma had discovered that Bible college was certainly not a dull place to be; she was enjoying the friendships she had already found here.  

     He was sitting with his back to them. Weston Lane. A name that belonged with ranches and big skies. He owned a truck, played the guitar, was an Eagle Scout, had 2 little sisters — was there anything else? Oh, yes, he didn’t have a girlfriend.

     “Let’s amble over there.” Bev nudged her.

     “Are you sure about this?” Sonoma looked at her sideways.

     “Hey, he’s your brother. Let’s just join the group.” 

     Sonoma shook her head and pulled her roommate along with her. Wes was a good sport, but he didn’t usually appreciate her match-making skills. She told him that all good preachers need a wife and he had better be looking before he graduated. But he just chucked her under the chin and said he had plenty of time. 

     He looked up as they approached. “Hi, sis. You girls done with the books for today?” 

     “Taking a break, I guess. I have some research to do in the library.” 

     Beverly was kicking her in the shin. “Bev here was wanting to see if you had notes for that Psychology class she missed.” 

     Wes reached into his backpack and extracted a notebook. “It should be in here. Have a seat, Bev, and I’ll find them for you.” 

     Behind his back, Bev gave an impish grin and waved her head in the direction of the door. Guess that meant it was time for Sonoma to exit. 

     “Ok, then, I’m going to get this research done. See you guys later.” 

     The library was welcoming — neat shelves of books, attractive study areas and warm track lighting. Sonoma found her favorite spot empty, sank into the leather chair and immediately lost herself in the research book. It was only when she saw a pair of brown hiking boots in front of her that she realized there was a backpack already nestled against the chair. She looked up. 

     “American Lit, right? Bev said you had a paper to write.” Sonoma knew she must look confused. 

     He stuck out his hand. “Bale Smithton. Bev’s my sister.”

     “Wait . . .you came to my church this summer with a singing group . . .” 

     “Wes told me you’d remember. Want to go down to the study area? I had this class last year. Maybe I can point you to the right books.” 

     She smiled. “That would be nice.”

     Call it a sibling conspiracy; call it providence; call it the amazing plans of God. As Sonoma picked up her books, she suddenly knew Daddy’s parting words were true. Following God’s will for your life was more exciting than a drive down Dippity Street. And the trip was just beginning. Maybe her roommate's brother would be part of it. You just never could tell. 

— VQ

coffeehouse surprise

Bistro tables scattered at angles on a plank floor. Book-lined shelves flanking a stone fireplace. Leather chairs placed in little nooks. A glossy counter scuffed with years of scrapes from coffee mugs. Normally, it was the kind of place that Rayne Hartwell would delight in. . . but not today. Even the pinkish tinge to the spring sky and the hint of thaw in the air seemed out of place. She didn’t want to be in Vermont; her heart was in the jungle. 
      Somewhere, above a muggy rain forest in a little Cessna plane was the man she loved. She wondered whom he was picking up today—a new missionary family, a child with a fever, a warrior with a serious wound? Each flight was a mission, an opportunity to minister. She could picture Dalton in the cockpit, expertly maneuvering the little plane over miles of terrain and landing on primitive runways. She wanted to be right there with him, pretending to be his navigator, handing him a cup of coffee from his thermos, stealing a kiss when the passengers were asleep. But, he was thousands of miles away and she was here, crying into her mocha cinnamon coffee. Which didn’t even taste that good.  

     Well, she’d have to make the best of it. They had agreed that she needed to complete her medical training before joining him on a permanent basis. Permanent basis. Marrying Dalton Ward was a dream she was almost afraid to believe might come true. Ruggedly good-looking with a passion for God and a winning smile, he had captured more than a few hearts in the girls’ dorm at Bible college. The evening he asked her for a date, she’d actually felt dizzy with excitement. And the winter night when he proposed would go down in history as a heart-stopping moment. But now there were duties for each of them to fulfill. Until next spring, they were keeping connected with email, Facebook and Skype. But the time span felt endless. How on earth could she wait that long to see him? In spite of her resolve, another tear squeezed down her cheek. She reached for her napkin to sop her drippy face and saw she’d dropped it on the floor. Bending down for it, she noticed a man’s shoe right beside her hand. She looked up. And dropped the napkin again. 

     Dalton winked. “Nice to know I have that effect on you.” 

     Rayne couldn't speak; she just stared. It couldn’t be. He looked wonderful; always did to her, of course, but now maybe it was the firelight on his skin or the fact that he held a coffee mug in his hand or maybe just that she couldn’t believe he was here.  

     “May I sit down?” He was grinning.  

      She stammered. “Yes, please, what are you doing here? I mean, how . . . ?” 

     He pulled a chair over on her side of the table and draped an arm around her, squeezing her in a tight hug. “You’re sweet when you’re speechless.” 

     She punched him playfully. “Watch it, mister!”  

     He laughed softly and set his coffee mug down, turned to look into her eyes. “Let me look at you a minute. It sure beats that faded picture taped to the flight control panel! Boy, honey, I’ve missed you.” 

     She took his free hand in both of hers. And started crying again.  

     “Here now, stop that. I’ve only got a couple days here; let’s don’t spend them crying.”  

     She smiled. “Okay, but explain this, please. What happened?”  

     “The Cessna is undergoing an overhaul; Steve is flying for me, and the mission board needed me to come stateside for a couple weeks and take care of some paperwork and a few other important items. I convinced them that a couple days deputation in New England was very important . . .and here I am!”  

     Rayne leaned into him, loving his strong presence, savoring the delight of his nearness. She knew there’d be more separations before they were together for always, but, with God’s help, they’d make it to the wedding . . . and a life of ministry together. It was all in the flight plan. And their Navigator had a flawless record 

-- VQ