Red Ribbons and Scripture

My mother was asleep when we walked into the hospital room. I sat down next to her and took her hand. Mom opened her eyes, and they were clear and bright and happy; Mom's voice was strong and confident, and she was squeezing my hand. "Your father's waiting for me; he is standing behind you and sends his love. I told him I wasn't leaving until you came." "Yes, Mom, I'm here now."

I see you're wearing your Cross, returned by the power of faith and prayer, your father told me. I love you, Sarah Anne." "I love you too, Mom," I replied, tears in my eyes. "I'm in between worlds, Sarah. I can feel the love beyond the veil; I'll be part of it soon. I can see... it's so beautiful," Mom closed her eyes and passed. I felt his hands on my shoulders. I turned, and his eyes were closed as if deep in thought or prayer.

Lucas was there for me; he sustained and comforted me. We stayed there for a week, putting her affairs in order. We laid her to rest in the Jacksonville National Cemetery next to my father.

In October, fourteen months, and two days from the day he hired me, and while screening his phone calls, "Good morning, this is Lucas Cain's Secretary. May I help you?" "Are you, Mrs. Foster?" "Yes, Sir, I am."

"I'm John Cain, Lucas's cousin. I know this is last minute, but I'm getting married next weekend in Maine." Congratulations. I'll bring him the phone. Lucas is in the backyard splitting wood."

My love came into the kitchen an hour later, all smiles and sweaty from his workout. The ropey muscles on his muscular arms were glistening with sweat from the strenuous labor, and his soaked tee shirt clinging to and accentuating his hard chest and washboard stomach. He looked scrumptious.

The first thing Lucas said was, "John gave you the preliminary, and he will e-mail you the details; attendees are immediate family only. My Father is performing the wedding ceremony. We'll stay with him Friday thru Monday. Would you do me the honor?" Again to jump ahead, we stayed for two weeks.

"I'd be delighted, Sir," and I put my arms around his neck and kissed his lips long and deep. "Are you sure you want to kiss me now, all wet and sweaty?" I kissed his lips again and said, "Mmm, your lips are complex harmony of well-balanced flavors with hints of salty, and warm, thoughtful, and honest, with a finish that is sometimes logically annoying, in other words, not bad."

"Stop it," he protested, "you're making me blush." So I kissed him again, and he said, "You must have a new dress for the wedding. I'm ordering you to go shopping--something nice and modest so as not to upstage the bride if at all possible. Bring back several and model them for me.

I brought back three; he liked them all, but Lucas chose a corn-flower blue midi dress with flowy mid-length flutter sleeves, a slight V-neckline, elastic belt-tied waist, and a flowy hi-low skirt with a dainty ivory peach and yellow floral print for the wedding.

It was a pleasant drive with the fall colors of reds, orange, and yellow at their zenith. We took turns driving and listened to music on the way there. He seemed a bit distant, deep in thought, when he wasn't taking his turn at the wheel.

Lucas shared more about his childhood. His Father has a small schooner and took him sailing, teaching him all about sailing and everything nautical. Father and son, with the stars to guide. I also learned his Father met his Mother when the good Reverand was nineteen and a Chief Warrant Officer in the Coast guard, stationed in Portland. They married when he graduated from Seminary.

We arrived at Lucas's childhood home on Friday around four in the afternoon. The Cape Cod house, built in the 1820s, had a large back porch facing the ocean overlooking the private rocky beach. There was also a natural dropoff for the deepwater dock. He told me the house was in his Mother's family for generations; they built it and the title in his and his Father's name.

As I mentioned before, Lucas told me they did not see eye-to-eye on some things; in fact, he barely talked about him until our drive here. Before we walked to the house, he said softly, "Thank you for coming here with me, Sarah," and he squeezed my hand, "I've been away from here far too long. You love, honor and respect your parent's memory by wearing your cross.

I've disrespected my Father while he's alive, and shame on me for my pig-headed stubborn pride. Wait here; there is something I need to do. Dad and I will come back together, and I'll introduce you." That was the first time he'd ever referred to his Father as Dad.

Lucas rang the doorbell, and his Dad stepped outside and held out his hand to shake. Pastor Micah, or Pastor Mike to his parishioners, was a thirty-year-older version of Lucas, with the same build and facial features but a full head of snow-white hair.

Lucas didn't shake his Dad's hand. Instead, he hugged his Father, really hugged him, and kissed his cheek, and his Dad hugged and kissed him back. That hug lasted a while. I couldn't hear what they said to each other. Although, the surprised look on Lucas's Dad's face turning to joy was sweet and heartwarming. Their intimate moment humbled me, making me think about my parents and my love for Lucas as I touched my gold cross and chain.

They walked over to me, wiping tears from their eyes. Lucas's Dad took both my hands and said, "I don't know what to say, except welcome to our home, and thank you. The clambake will be ready by six. You both may sleep in the guest room." "No, Dad," "I'll sleep in my old room. Your house, your rules, don't make exceptions for us."

For dinner, which was delicious, we had a traditional New England Clam Bake like his Mother made for the family, and it was more than delicious. Chicken thighs, red potatoes, corn on the cob, lobster, chorizo sausage, and two heaping platters of soft shell clams. Don't forget the apple pie for dessert. Afterward, I retired early to let Lucas and his Dad be alone to catch up.

Before we entered the Church Saturday morning, Lucas took my hands and looked into my eyes. He quoted from the Song of Solomon, 'Oh my dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the secret place of the steep pathway, Let me see your form, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, and your form is lovely." I love you, Sarah." then Lucas kissed my hands, and we walked into the Church together.

The wedding was lovely, with flowers and organ music. There was singing, and I never realized what a fine tenor voice my love has until then; he sang "Amazing Grace" honestly from the heart, with passion," and his voice carried through the small church. I sang with him, wiping a small tear from my eye.

Early Sunday morning, when I awakened, I looked out my window and saw Lucas fishing opposite the wood schooner at the dock. It was chilly, and his Dad suggested I wear Lucas's old blue wool CPO shirt hanging in the mudroom when I went out to sit on the porch to watch him.

Shortly after, his Dad came out on the porch with two cups of steaming hot coffee to join me. "Good morning, Sarah, cream and sugar as you like." Good morning, Pastor Micah; I'll make us breakfast when Lucas is finished fishing," and he handed me my coffee, "Mike or Micah will do until you marry him, and then I hope you'll call me, Dad. Decon Arthur is giving the sermon in my place this morning. Lucas told me you attend Church every Sunday, and you teach a children's Sunday School class. Are you a scholar of the word?"

'And we know that the Son of God is come, and hath given us an understanding, that we may know him that is true, and we are in him that is true, even in his Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God and eternal life.' "I have no formal training, just my faith. Are you testing me?"

Micah added, 'Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.'

"Testing you, no. I do not doubt your knowledge or understanding of Scripture.

I don't believe everything is a coincidence, Sarah, but instead, I believe in small miracles when I see them. I've prayed for this day to happen, my son's return. I see God's intervention. You stood next to him when we sang in Church, our voices raised in praise. It was his mother's favorite song. His mother taught him to sing Amazing Grace, and Lucas knew all the words when he was three.

Lucas has not fished on that dock in twenty-seven years. His Mother loved the ocean and the coastal beaches. Ruth taught him how to fish and swim, you know, or perhaps you don't? Fishing is enjoyable; however, knots, crosses, lashings are my forte; my schooner and a star to steer her by."

"Yes, Pastor, and you're God-given calling as a fisher of men?" "Why, yes, thank you, Sarah."

"Lucas stopped fishing after Ruth died. His grief was heartbreaking; it lasted for months. Then came anger, not that he acted out or was defiant, but he was no longer the same happy, spontaneous, and gregarious little boy. Can you believe it, at nine years old, Lucas enrolled himself in a Dojo? Did he tell you that?" "No, he didn't? I replied. 'A dojo, I thought that explained much.'

"I had reservations at first, Sarah, his Senesi being a Buddist, and then I noticed a change in Lucas. He was redirecting and focusing his pent-up anger and channeling it into something positive in everything he did, including his school work. When Lucas was Seventeen, Mr' Izumi, his Senesi, confided that his student-Lucas had surpassed the teacher.

His focus and instincts are impressive", Mr. Izumi praised. "As my sparring partner, Lucas leaves no openings; he anticipates, adapts, and counters. We finish at a standstill, and I know he's holding back out of respect. I understand Lucas made valedictorian," Mr. Izumi praised, "you must be very proud of him." I, of course, agreed with him.

Do you know we had a falling out when Lucas was eighteen? He didn't want to attend the Christian College that I planned to enroll him in as a business major.

"It's my life," he said, "my life, my choices and not yours or God's. I won't be attending college; I'll chart my voyage in life, and I sink or sail with or without divine help. I can recite passages from the Bible as well as you, perhaps better, and if he exists, how can I forgive God when denied me, my Mother."

I lost my temper while he remained calm, and stoic which made me angrier as we debated. In my anger, I struck him hard, and he let me. I know how dangerous he is. I regretted it immediately. I apologized. He wiped the blood from his mouth, unfazed and unyielding. His eyes became hard, Sarah; they were cold and distant;

I am his Father, I love him, and I was frightened of him. Lucas put his hands in his pockets and said, "I turn my other cheek to you?"

We had more words; I was calmer; he was unyielding, knowledgeable, countering every argument- annoyingly polite with a poker face, his mind made up.

"Be reasonable, Lucas I said, "We can speak of your doubts about faith another time, or if you wish, with another Minister if not me. Our savior's disciples had doubts, even after the miracles they saw with their own eyes.

You can't touch your trust fund until you turn twenty-five. What will you do? Where will you live? You are setting yourself up for failure. If you live here, it's my rules while I'm alive."

"I agree, Father, your house and your rules, and I will prove you wrong." He left everything behind that day. Besides his savings from part-time jobs, he took a knapsack with two changes of clothes and a second pair of new work shoes, his cousin John told me after dropping Lucas off at the bus station. Lucas's substantial trust fund sits untouched, even today. I didn't hear or speak to him for two years; did he mention that?"

"No, Lucas told me you don't always see eye to eye." Yes, that is true; we didn't then. That is often the way between fathers and sons. This glorious weekend is the first time Lucas has been in Maine to see me except for a few hours, once or twice a year. We usually meet on neutral grounds, such as at a restaurant to discuss family matters, family news, or we meet at family gatherings. "Why didn't you visit him?" "I did, and the results were the same.

For those lost years, Lucas was reserved, respectful, and polite. He met his obligations, yet, I didn't know his mind; he didn't share his feelings. Lucas mailed me a yearly check for taxes and upkeep on the property. After every visit, I found fresh flowers on Ruth's grave. Our meetings began and ended with a handshake. After you retired early, thank you, my boy, and I talked far into the night, cleared the air, and laughed as we shared our feelings.

Friday was the first time Lucas hugged or kissed me in eighteen years, called me Dad, or told me he loved me. It is a new beginning for us. Lucas loves you, you know, Sarah. I can see it in his eyes by the way he looks at you. I witnessed you two together before you walked into the Church the day of the wedding; many in the family did.

I know you love him. He's never brought a lady friend to our family gathering before and never here. He invited me to his home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We compromised; Christmas Eve and Christmas will be here."

"Look," I pointed, standing, "what is he doing? And as we watched, Lucas stripped off his clothes to his briefs and dove off the dock into the cold ocean. He then swam a few laps, and when he climbed out, Lucas raised his arms in the air while turning in a circle, and he was laughing.