8. What a Little Bit of Love Can Do
JEFF brIDGES
8
WHAT A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE CAN DO
“Seriously, guys?” Dakota stared up at the Good Start Coffee chalkboard—the one usually displaying seasonal artwork, a Bible verse, or something whimsical. Instead, the board now read, Cordiality Count, with his and Sadie’s names displayed beneath, their individual tallies, and a Vote on Winner Here sign. A giant arrow pointed to a jar idly waiting for Sugartree residents to place their bets. It gave him flashbacks to the rudimentary town vote on the cakewalk debacle.
Georgia and Ginny, who’d been on shift all morning, simultaneously burst into identical, high-pitched laughs.
Ginny did a happy dance, clearly satisfied with her cleverness. “Mrs. Woodhouse already hedged her bets on you. She said it was clear you are,” she put her fingers into bunny eared quotes, “‘so moon-eyed over that young lady you’re bound to win her over.”’
Dakota balked. “I’m not tryin’ to win her over. I’m tryin’ to keep my apartment.”
Georgia waved him off. “Sure. That’s why you made a deal to out-friend the girl you’ve clearly had some sort of weird, frenemy, romantic tension with for years. Makes total sense.” She began mumbling as she finished off a drink for a customer. Words that sounded like sprinkles and coffee, but as he often did, Dakota tuned his eldest sister out, instead focusing on deterring their fascination with him and Sadie.
“There’s no tension,” he said, though noncommittally, not liking how familiar this conversation was sounding. “I was tryin’ to make amends. That’s all. I was doin’ what you two and your crazy sidekicks…”
“My husband,” Georgia deadpanned.
“Yeah him. And all the other meddlers in our family.” He had a sudden terrifying realization. “Wait. Has… has Mama seen this?” He pointed at the monstrosity on the wall, and the girls giggled again.
“Oh, she has seen it, baby,” Joan Remillard sang into the air as she and his dad—whom the whole family had lovingly referred to as “the Colonel” since his retirement from the Air Force years before—stepped through the door of the shop, waving at customers nonchalantly like local small-town celebrities.
The tiny bell that rang overhead with their arrival clanged like a merry little alarm, resounding in Dakota’s head, shouting, Run, man! Get outta here! Save yourself while you still can!
His mama greeted everyone by name and with a personal detail, like she’d been studyin’ family histories and the Sugartree Gazette in her spare time.
“Your bouffant looks so beautiful, Jeannie! Did Gloria do that for you?”
“Bud, I heard ya finally scheduled that exam and it’s ‘bout time, says me and your wife…”
“Lana Peters, you couldn’t look more darling if you tried.”
The Colonel greeted his daughters with affectionate hugs, giving Georgia a tender fist bump to her belly, something he’d done since the moment her pregnancy began to show. Dakota was pretty sure their dad had convinced himself the more fist bumps he gave her bump, the better chance his first grandchild would be a boy. He saluted Dakota but stopped at the jar, already colorful with votes inside, and silently wrote his vote on a blue scrap piece of paper, dropping it inside. Only then did he return to his wife and give her a smacking kiss on her cheek.
Dakota’s mom looked positively jubilant. The summer always brightened his mama in a unique way. Bronzing her skin, brightening her eyes, and boasting her youthfulness more than the other seasons of the year. But this… this glow was the mark of a woman brimming with promised, good-natured gossip and plotting. Potential marriages. And probably grandchildren. Definitely meddling.
“This newest development between you and our dear Sadie Girl is just so, so interestin’, baby,” she said, kissing Dakota’s cheek and adjusting the hair from his forehead.
“Hi, Mama.” He hugged her tight. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s nothin’.”
“Looks like somethin’, son,” the Colonel said, eyes filled with mirth and flicking to the chalkboard. “And I heard tell VBS was sure somethin’.”
“It wasn’t,” Dakota argued. He’d never live down his second food fight in two years.
“It is something!” Lana Peters, the Sugartree Town Director and Georgia’s boss, chimed in. The fabric of her bright, watermelon printed dress fluttered with her excited movements. “I, myself, voted for Sadie. She’s such a dear and so beautiful! And she makes the very best frappes.”
“What does that have to do with bein’ cordial, Mrs. Peters?” Dakota asked.
His mama swatted his arm. “Don’t you sass, Dakota Major!”
He pinched his lips and prayed for patience. “My apologies, Mrs. Peters. I just love hearin’ how amazing you think our dear Sadie Girl is… The fact that I might lose my very house and home has little to do with anything at all in comparison to her many amiable qualities. She’s wonderful, and therefore, obviously the friendliest.”
Mrs. Peters smiled a mile wide. “Apology accepted, young man. And don’t call me Mrs. Peters. I’m not my mother-in-law, God love her, and I’m certainly not as old. Call me Lana, please.” She adjusted her watermelon headband. “And, may I add, what beautiful vocabulary you have, Dakota.”
“You should hear his poetry,” Ginny hollered across the shop, loud enough to be heard over the various coffee machines. “It's positively melodic.”
Mrs. Peters—Lana—clapped her hands excitedly like she might ask him then and there to recite some, and Dakota made a mental note to humiliate his baby sister in front of a certain worship leader/elementary school coach that she hadn’t seemed to stop making googly, heart-eyes at all weekend. He’d plan that particular payback another day.
He nodded in Mrs. Peter’s direction but was then graciously saved by his mother, who grabbed him in the crook of his arm and dragged him to a small table in the corner of the coffee shop. “Sit, please.”
Dakota obeyed but not without first pointing out the obvious. “I’d like everyone to take note that I’m presently in the lead on the Cordiality Count. In case that means anything to any voters out here.” He pointed to the chart but found no response. Only his sisters, happily counting votes. The majority, likely in Sadie’s favor.
His dad slid out one of the wooden chairs and swept his hand down towards another as if it were a luxury vehicle. “Joanie Doll.” He then sat once his wife was good and settled.
“Alright,” she began. “What’s all this about? You finally tryin’ to win our girl over?”
Our girl.
Dakota loved the way his parents, and his sisters, for that matter, had taken Sadie in as one of their own. Even if he suspected that their insta-love for her had directly affected his own plans. He’d been cautious… and yeah, a little immature… when it had come to his interactions with Sadie. Fighting felt easier than the alternative.
“You’ve got the wrong idea, Mama. This was just a bet me and Sadie had after I…”
His parents both lifted their eyes in tandem, expectation and suspicions high.
“Well, I wasn’t very kind to her,” he admitted. “I think we all know she and I tend to butt heads more often than not. So when I apologized, I kind of had the idea to turn the tides.”
“Did she give you some fire in return?” his dad asked, winking.
Dakota sighed. “When does Sadie not give me fire?”
The Colonel grinned, appreciatively. “That’s my girl.” He put a heavy hand on the back of Dakota’s neck, a solid weight and comfort in some way. “Son, don’t ya think it’s ‘bout time y’all stop playin’ games and start admittin’ what’s been there all along?”
“Heavy bickering and repetitive migraines?” Dakota quipped, hoping his far too astute parents would leave well enough alone.
His proximity to her during VBS, as co-leaders, had been a battle of his will and fervent prayer, never letting himself get too comfortable or too out of control. Aside from the sprinkle mishap, he thought he’d done a pretty decent job. And he was ahead on the count, which gave him all the more reason to keep up the delicate balance of kindness and careful distance he’d maintained when it came to Sadie.
His dad’s hand grew tighter as he leaned in more, speaking lower as if he were going to tell a secret that could be kept from his wife, who sat twelve inches to his right. “These types of things will catch up to ya, son. And smack ya right between the eyes. Usually at an inconvenience.”
His mama hummed lightly in agreement and patted the hand Dakota had resting on the table. Was this an intervention?
The Colonel continued, “It’d be wise not to ignore what’s goin’ on in here…” he pointed at Dakota’s heart and then at his head, “and in here, for too long. God knows I tried to run away from this woman before the Lord smacked me upside the head and opened my eyes to what a gift fully lovin’ her would be. And now look at us? I’ve had thirty years of lovin’ her, four kids who mostly have their heads on straight, gained a grandson, and now have another grandbaby on the way.” He shuffled a hand over Dakota’s head, mussed his hair as if he were a toddler, and returned it to Dakota’s shoulder. “And I’ll tell ya what, son. I’m forever grateful the Lord didn’t allow me to get in my own way.”
Dakota felt himself ruffle with defensiveness. He wasn’t getting in his own way. He was respecting Sadie’s wishes. If he had his way, Sadie would have said yes when he’d asked her on a date the first time. He wouldn’t have had to ask a second or third or even a fourth time before getting a clue and giving up. Sadie wouldn’t have turned him down out of fear of ruining her relationship with his family. If he had exactly what he wanted, Sadie would have seen Dakota’s interest and attraction to her as a bonus to her friendship with his parents and sisters.
She would have chosen him.
Not feeling feelings for Sadie was counterintuitive to his instincts. Everything about her, from her love for the Lord even down to the way she knew exactly how to chafe his nerves, called to him uniquely. She was Dakota’s Wade brown bear. Rare and desperately valuable… but unattainable.
“You’ve got it all wrong. She… Sadie doesn’t want that,” Dakota quietly admitted in a moment of vulnerability. He’d always felt like he could be honest with his parents without judgment. They were quirky and usually diving far too deep into his and his sisters’ business, but they meant well. And above all else, his mama and the Colonel were faithful to pray for their children. He knew what a gift that truly was.
“She doesn’t want me… or us. And… I’m okay with that. Really. I just… uh…” He scratched his arm, looking for the right words to pacify them and nip the conversation in the bud. “I’d like to respect her wishes and to just try to be her friend, ya know?”
The bell at the entrance rang and their eyes turned to see Sadie wafting in through the doors in tattered, loose fitting jeans and a heathered,red Good Start Coffee tee knotted off her hip. She smiled wide, greeting regulars and Sugartree neighbors and flicked her eyes in the direction of their table, giving the slightest wave.
“Well… looky who’s here.”
“I see her, Mama. We all do.”
His mama patted his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, tugging him just a little bit closer. “Friendship is as good a place as any to start, baby. And I might have the perfect opportunity for you to make good on that particular endeavor. I’ll fill ya in later.”
Dakota sighed. “You’re schemin’, aren’t you?”
His mom swatted his hand and fanned her face, as if she couldn’t possibly understand Dakota’s suspicions. She turned to the Colonel. “Well, that doesn't sound like me at all. Does it, Sweetheart?”
“Not a bit, Babydoll.” The Colonel kissed her cheek and pulled her close.
“Now,” she said, cuddling into her husband for a minute before pulling away and wiggling her eyes exactly like Ginny did when she was up to no good, “I think I’m gonna leave you two boys here while I go talk to Dakota’s friend and the girls.”
The Colonel watched her leave and accepted the cup of black coffee Ginny delivered with a kiss to his cheek before running off back to the girl gang hanging out at the counter. He took a deep sip and leaned both elbows on the table. “I’m glad it’s just you and me for a minute, son. I’ve been looking for a time for us to talk.”
“I don’t wanna talk about Sadie anymore, Dad,” Dakota said, immediately on the defensive but unable to stop his eyes from veering to his right where Sadie had been pulled into a deep, long hug by his mama then had promptly fallen into a fit of laughter, no doubt at some nonsense one of the women in his family had spurted off.
His dad leaned into his peripheral. “I don’t wanna talk about her either, bud. I wanna talk about you. I hope ya don’t mind me sayin’, but you seem a bit off lately. A little lackluster. Is everything alright?”
Dakota shifted in his seat. His dad was always perceptive in a way others weren’t. Listening more often than talking. But Dakota didn’t know where to start, as he hadn’t quite nailed down what was irking him so profoundly. “I, uh…” He ran a hand down his bicep, folding into himself and leaning on the table, a mirror image of the man he trusted most.
The Colonel smiled lightly. “Ya know how people have always said you’re my twin? Same eyes. Same dark hair. Same stature…”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, son, ya’ve got the same tells too. And I know something is happening in that brain of yours. What’s up? Is it spiritual? Or maybe work? Or is it just…?” he flicked his head in Sadie’s direction.
“I guess I’m feelin’…” He sighed. “Maybe I’m feelin’ a little lost. Not spiritually. I know who I am, but… I guess I don’t know if I’m where I need to be.”
“Ahhh,” his dad hummed in understanding, leaning back in his chair and taking another long sip of coffee. Dakota wished he had a cup of tea in his hands. Something to take the edge off as he finally came face to face with at least one of the things chafing him. “That’s a tough spot to be in, for sure. Not knowin’ or feelin’ confident in your purpose as a man and as a believer… Whew,” he blew out a breath. “That’s heavy stuff, son.”
“It is?” He felt so unsure, but wanted to hug his dad just for the tiny blip of validation he felt at being seen and understood, no matter how minutely.
“Oh yeah. I remember feeling that way, too. I floated through college and got a history degree, son. No one gets a degree in history and knows what they’re gonna do with their life.”
“How did you… How did you decide to go into the Air Force? You’ve never really said.” A question that had been niggling at Dakota for a while now, he realized. “How’d you make such a big commitment?”
“Oh, man. It was your mama, actually. I’d had inklings here and there of what it might be like to go into the service. The pride and the commitment to serve my country. But it was your mama who had more interest in convertin’ to an Alabama fan than she did in joinin’ the Air Force…”
“So none at all?” Dakota chuckled.
“Absolutely zero! But then one day she came to me and said she’d had a dream about the Air Force and us movin’ around from place to place and seein’ the whole picture the Lord had for us… That phrase, son. The whole picture the Lord had for us… was a phrase I’d been praying over night and day. Word for word. Lord, show me the whole picture You have for us. For me and Joan. Your mama had no idea.”
His father paused to finish off his cup, and Dakota felt the weight of his words and of his own repeated prayer.
I’m not sure of my purpose, but I know Your promises.
He couldn’t recount how many times he’d prayed that simple prayer since that first night of VBS when he’d felt the overwhelming sense of discontent nearly pull him under.
“The military has not always been easy, but I have never… not a single day… regretted being faithful to what God so clearly called me to do. To the purpose He set before me.”
“So the Air Force was your purpose?”
“No, son. The Air Force was more like the vehicle—the method—the Lord used in me to fulfill my purpose as best I humanly could. To share the Gospel… To go from place to place and see that whole picture… To meet people in all those places and share the love of the Lord with them. In service and in speech, ya know? For His glory. Not my own.”
“And now?” Dakota whispered. “What’s your purpose now?”
His father’s steady gaze met him with a look of love and understanding that made Dakota feel as if he could weep with the depths of it.
“My purpose is the same as any believer, Dakota. The same as yours.” He put his hand on Dakota’s, resting on the table. “If I put my identity in my job, I’d be lost the moment that season of life changed. But if my identity and purpose are in Christ, I’m forever rooted in what He has for me. The whole picture. I may not be in the Air Force anymore, but my life is devoted in service to Christ. To discipleship. To sowing seeds here in my community and in my family.”
He squeezed Dakota’s hand as both their eyes filled with moisture. “If you’re in Christ, Dakota, your purpose is His purpose. Ya just need to pray for the plan. And I’ll pray He shows it to you plainly.”