A Rock and a Fella

The café is where Amy goes to shake off the chill before heading home. She smells coffee as she gets near and can't wait for the full-on aroma once she opens the door. Once inside, she starts to thaw. Whatever's outside is now unseen, and out of sight is out of mind—left behind windows covered in frost. When the temperature drops, Sips helps her regain the calm she lost about twelve hours ago. She likes to sit by herself and let her thoughts drift far away from the day's tension that sneaks in through the workload. She hates taking stress home with her. Amy wants to listen to the ticking of a clock that slows down time. The atmosphere challenges anyone to come and be warmed with the contents of a cup. The lighting is dim, just what Amy expects from a place that serves comforting food, goodies and hot beverages. The walls and furniture are dark, and the baked goods are delicious. The scents are enough to make her drool, and the sound level is low and soothing. If she can find herself a seat by a snowflake-crusted window, she'll disappear into the woodwork. She squints slightly and loses herself in a dreamscape of warm lights strung like stars. She's wrapped in a space where someone is waiting to take her order and serve her some joy.

As she sits and waits, someone else comes through the café's door. His cheeks are as red as hers were when she first walked in. His breath is no longer visible once the door closes behind him. He scans the darkened room and then makes his way to a table near the fireplace. He lets off a heavy layer of coat like the troubles weighing him down, then sits with his face toward the fire. Amy tries not to stare, but the place is having the same therapeutic effect on him, and it makes her smile. This is the place she has adored since it first opened five years ago. It never loses its ambience or turns overly commercial.

There are fresh flowers on every table. This is the first time that's happened this year. They are so delicate that she can't help noticing them. One sole flower per table makes a loud statement for the dead of winter. The fragrance wafts to her nose, requesting a gentle acknowledgment. It seems to wait for her to settle in before making its presence known. Each flower is different, and Amy looks around, taking in the varied beauties. Her attention shifts from the guy who just walked in to the flower adorning her table. She feels content studying its beauty. It's the only connection she's interested in making tonight or in general.

The waitress brings Amy an affogato. As she sets it down, she places a napkin on the table and says it's from an admirer. Amy looks up at her as though to ask a question, but the waitress's smile is reassuring. Amy wonders if she should unfold the napkin or look around the café for someone who might be looking back at her.

She samples her dessert and opens the napkin to find a rose petal.

The clock on the wall with the café's namesake—Sips—reads just past ten PM. It's as quiet now as when she first walked in an hour ago. Amy finishes her drink and gets up to leave. Stepping outside will be a shock to her system after soaking in this atmosphere, but she knows she'll be back. Maybe she is being watched, but the waitress smiles at her again. Amy doesn't think she has anything to worry about. No one comes forward about the rose petal, but her curiosity is piqued. The gesture is subtle but deliberate, and while she's not intimidated, she feels relieved.

The place is almost empty. Amy bundles up again, ready to make her exit into the cold. As she looks around, she doesn't notice anyone new, but she sees the guy who came in after her. He's engrossed in his book, giving Amy neither answers nor clues. It's just time to go home, but she's got a rose petal in her coat pocket, wrapped in a napkin. It isn't nothing. It's the start of something.

Amy leaves the café and starts for home. It's cold and dark, and the wind is strong enough to drown out the traffic. As she gets ready to turn the corner, she bumps into a man. Amy hesitates.

"Hi, I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you finally," he says.

"Hi. I know who you are. You're Sam Cromwell. Aren't you the owner of Sips?" she replied.

"Yes, Amy. That's me. You can call me Sam."

Well, it's nice to see you again, Sam, but if you don't mind, I'd like to get home."

Sam asks her to wait. He's looking at her hopefully. Amy's not sure, but if he's about to ask her if she'll work for him, she'll have to turn him down. Amy doesn't want to think about work anymore tonight.

"Would you have dinner with me?" He asks gently, and she takes a moment to consider the kindness in his eyes.

"Before you say no, can I walk you home?" Amy is taken aback, but walking seems like a good way to avoid answering his question right away. She weighs the question. She may not know the man personally, but his good reputation stands. She may feel caught off guard, but she isn't threatened. She could easily say no. It's dinner, not a marriage proposal. She realizes she doesn't feel pressured, so she decides to say yes.

They are near Amy's brownstone.

"That's great!" Sam tried to conceal his overly enthusiastic response. Amy expects him to suggest something casual at Sips, or maybe steak or pasta at a nearby restaurant. She's up for either, but when they reach her apartment, Sam pulls a napkin out of his pocket and holds it out to her. She takes it, feeling it between her fingers, and opens it carefully so the wind won't blow it away. Sure enough, she finds another rose petal. It's fresh. She holds it up to her nose and breathes in its fragrance. She closes her eyes because it reminds her of the first one. This time, he has written on it.

"The Cromwell Mansion. Saturday at 7:30 PM."

"I can have my driver pick you up at 7:00?"

She looks up at him in silence, trying to keep her mouth from opening in disbelief.

Sam Cromwell is her admirer?

"Are you serious?" She doesn't want to sound rude, but she can't make any sense of this invitation. This is more than a casual dinner. Can she trust this man?

Closing the door behind her, Amy leans back and looks down at the napkin. What does she really know about this man? A mansion is a far cry from a steak and a salad at a bar and grill. Does she need an evening gown or jewelry she'd have to rent?? Is this dinner or a dinner party?

"Will you have dinner with me?"

His heartfelt words echo in her mind, sounding less like a formal gathering and more like an intimate evening. Two rose petals aren't enough to make a clear-headed decision so late at night. She doesn't feel unsafe, but this is her least typical first-date scenario. Then again, a man's money doesn't make a woman fall in love. It's fine if he's rich, but it isn't her fault if she lets him down. Sam can take his chances if he wants to. She doesn't get the impression that he is egotistical or even overconfident.

The next three days pass, and surprisingly few thoughts about dating, invitations, or mansions come to her mind. Amy goes to work and comes home, but the idea of dinner at Sam's mansion lingers in her mind like a dying fire in winter. If she thinks about anything, it's the man himself. Sam Cromwell is only a few years older than she is, but has achieved remarkable success with Sips cafés in three different cities. This one is special because it's close to home, work, and the gym. It's a part of life she doesn't want to risk losing. If this event makes her feel that visiting the café becomes suddenly awkward, she isn't sure how she would react. It's a place she can always go when the insanity of work starts getting the best of her. Had Sam noticed how unhappy she is? If anything, this evening is an indication that it's time to change her job.

A Mercedes-Benz pulls up to the brownstone, and Amy reaches for the back door as though she's about to get into a cab. A man in uniform steps out and says, "Allow me, Miss Parker." He hands her another folded napkin, and they drive off in silence. Amy feels the familiar napkin before looking inside. The rose petal is as soft and dewy as the others, but the handwritten note is mysterious.

"Roses in winter are rare. I want to show you how freezing temperatures can make them bloom."

She places it in her clutch as they drive up to a rustic, luxurious log cabin. It is as charming as it is opulent, but so close to nature that she can feel its heartbeat. She can smell the pine trees even before getting out of the car.

Amy meets with a private concierge who takes her coat and leads her to a great room with a welcoming, country atmosphere. Sam shows up, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt with grey dress pants. He smiles at the sight of Amy in her navy blue vintage cocktail party dress with 3/4 length sleeves. They talk by the fire, drinking mugs of hot apple cider. Sam tells her he'd been looking forward to seeing her since he asked her to dinner. He describes how he experiences happiness because of her, happiness that doesn't make sense and can't be explained. Without knowing much about her, he knows he wants to spend his days giving her back the happiness she deserves.

"Well, I suppose we could date and see how it goes," Amy offers.

"Amy, I only know about you what you would be comfortable telling me yourself. I'm a man of means, but I won't use them to overstep your boundaries. You come into the cafe with cares and worries, but you leave with the peace that makes everything I do worthwhile."

"You are the most beautiful woman wherever I go. Would you like to have dinner now?" He gestures towards another room in the mansion, where she guesses she's about to see a serious spread.

"No! Wait! What are you talking about with dinner and roses in winter? I must be as crazy as you even to be here!"

"Amy, I understand your confusion, and I can explain. I'm a praying man, and my mom is a praying woman. That makes for a powerful combination because both of us want the right woman for me."

Amy quiets herself down and decides to let Sam have his say once and for all. "You wanted to buy a ring for yourself about a year ago at this time, isn't that right? I have to admit, it's a beauty. I know because I bought it myself."

Amy lets her mouth drop open this time. She was ready to buy the sapphire with the diamonds and the split gold band. The moment she put it on her finger at the jewelry store, she'd had a physical reaction. A rush of endorphins had passed throughout her entire body. She'd hit a runner's high and could barely contain her emotions. Nothing like that has ever happened to her, and she'd decided then and there that this was the ring for her. But she hesitated. If it were hers, it would mean she would be choosing not to let men into her life at all. She has the thousands it would have cost her, but it would have been a powerful signal to all men that what she wore on her finger was an expensive reflection of what she was feeling in her heart. She visited the ring several times until one day, it wasn't there. Here she is tonight, looking at the man who bought it.

"When I saw it, I was with my mother. She was hearing from the Lord that I should buy it, so I did." Sam stands up and gestures for the concierge to bring his and Amy's coats.

"Let's take a walk," he suggests. He notices Amy's agitation and knows to take a step back. He's been living with this revelation for months. Amy is only learning about it now. At the risk of losing her altogether with the culmination of his plan, he decides to take her all the way to it, and let her decide if she believes it's real.

"Here, put these on." Sam takes the snow boots from the concierge and hands them to Amy.

"Well, I'm already up to my eyeballs...In something...," she thinks as she removes her heels and slips on the boots.

They walk outside and around to the back of the cabin. Sam hopes the fresh air and exercise will help her calm down after dropping his bomb. Amy takes Sam's arm and looks at the breathtaking view. He has a manicured forest surrounding the mansion, but there is something in particular he wants Amy to see.

"Sam, what did you mean by freezing temperatures can make flowers bloom?"

"It means you, Amy. Your heart is frozen, but if you're the answer to my prayers, I'm only too glad to keep adding water." He wants to be playful because he trusts in God, but he's afraid his words will confuse her.

While this makes sense on some level, Amy doesn't press for clarification. The tops of the trees are brushing the stars in the wind, and the moon is a snowy orb of crisp brilliance. The God who made this natural wonder is at work in her life, still creating, making something new. No, He is matchmaking in her life for the sake of a man who wants nothing but what He has to give him. If her heart is hardened, it's beginning to thaw. She feels safe out here, where she's never been before and with a man she's learning quite a bit from. The sound of their footsteps on the frozen ground tells her he's leading her to something she wants to see.

Sam knows exactly where he's taking her, and his silence is comforting. Amy looks up as lights, lanterns and flames begin to appear around a huge circle cleared in the snow. She looks to Sam with wonder and a light of her own in her eyes. Sam's heart leaps with joy, and he beams a smile at her that reflects the confidence he's had to conceal for so long. There's no holding back any longer. As they get closer, a clear path opens up, lined with frozen water moulded in the shape of angels and lit from within. Amy draws in a breath that seems to bring a hush in the air. She no longer walks. She treads on this path cautiously, holding Sam's arm with both of hers in expectation. Whatever happens next could decide the rest of her life.

Amy gasps with joy.

"Sam! What have you done?" She smiles at him and laughs as though something new in her heart is taking her by surprise. She thinks it's new, but it's always been there, waiting to bloom.

"Would you like to take a spin?" Sam asks. He's in awe because of the transformation in Amy tonight. A groundskeeper steps up and hands them skates. They lace up, and Sam takes her hand as they skate around the surface.

Amy can't tear her eyes away from what's beneath her feet. The lights, the flames and the fiery moon reflect thousands of petals embedded beneath the circle of clear glass. Sam guides her to the center of the court, where the sapphire rests under the ice. He's a mixture of nerves and confidence in his plan. He has God's promises but no guarantees with Amy. All he has is love for her that could break his heart like the ice that would melt in the Spring. He gets down on one knee and asks, "Will you marry me?"

Amy feels the weight of the symbol she almost bought for herself. This would mean wearing the ring as Sam's wife instead of using it to fend men off altogether. She feels guilty for hesitating. She wants to freeze up and hide herself away in her heart again, but Sam has put a lot of effort into this night to show her that this is not the answer. A heart can be hardened but not disguised. She skates away slowly, aimlessly, and Sam's heart falls.

Sam had said She's an answer to his prayers. If God hadn't been thinking about what she truly wanted and needed, she wouldn't be standing here being proposed to. There weren't any lingering blessings in her life from past relationships, but Sam has indulged her with wings of ice angels and prayer.

Roses in winter mean something. They don't grow in harsh, cold climates. It's not just the ring beneath the ice that reminds Amy of her heart. The ice around it needs to break. Maybe God's way is through the surface so He can embed Himself at its center. If God is in this proposal, wouldn't it be in her best interest to accept? It takes lots of petals to make a rose, and God was asking Amy to let Him make her heart whole.

Amy turns to Sam.

"Yes!"

She shouts it to God and to Sam.