Whispers
A din of muffled conversations pervaded the dining room. Ceiling lamps hung over each of the tables, but it seemed somehow that more light was coming from the floating candles at their centers. Other than the occasional waiter wandering through, there was very little movement.
Perhaps that was why the one man attracted Evan’s attention. That, and the way the man’s white suit shone in comparison to the black and ashy gray suits everyone else wore. He appeared to be moving about aimlessly, but the more Evan observed him, the more he saw there was a definite purpose to his walk.
Every so often, the stranger would pause and stoop over next to a patron and whisper something into their ear. Sometimes he would even drape his arm across their back. Each time, the patron would look up as if the stranger had offered to pay their check, thank him, and turn back to their original conversation as the stranger moved on. Not once did anyone look back at the stranger as he walked away. Perhaps he was the manager.
No, thought Evan. He’d seen the manager before, and besides that, he doubted the manager would be wearing a white hat out on the dining floor. No, there was something different about this man.
Evan continued watching him as he made his way over toward his side of the room. The stranger seemed nonplussed by Evan’s stares, walking right by him with a nod ever so subtle that Evan couldn’t quite figure out if he’d been noticed or not.
“Is something wrong with your steak?” Evan looked up to see the waiter standing over him. Looking at his plate, he realized he’d been sitting there for almost half an hour and had only taken a single bite of his steak dinner, with that bite having been at least a couple minutes before he first saw the man in white.
“Uh, no … no,” he replied, as if slowly crawling back to reality. “Actually, it’s delicious. I’ve just been a little distracted today, that’s all.”
“Would you like me to have it reheated for you?”
“No, thanks. It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The waiter nodded and gracefully made his exit, leaving Evan to his meal. He’d already puzzled his server by declining to have the place setting across from him removed when he sat down. No one else was expected, but there was an odd comfort to it being there.
“Excuse me. Would you mind if I have a seat for a minute?” This time the voice came from behind him, and Evan turned to see the stranger settling into the chair directly behind and facing away from him. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he turned back around and resumed eating.
“Help yourself,” was the reply, obviously from the man the stranger was now sitting across from.
“I couldn’t help but noticing that something’s been troubling you. If you explain the problem to me, I believe I might be able to help.”
This pronouncement stopped Evan cold. Neither man spoke with a tone indicative that one knew the other, but even if they had, the stranger’s offer still seemed unbelievably outrageous. Is this what he’d been whispering to nearly every other patron in the restaurant? No, he hadn’t spoken to most of them that long.
“Can’t see how it’d hurt.” The other voice sounded familiar now, though Evan still couldn’t place it. “I’ve been job hunting for a couple months now, but I haven’t been able to find any openings in anything that interests me.”
“I take it you’re not happy with your current job, then.”
“That’s just it. I’m actually quite satisfied. I just feel God calling me somewhere else. Can’t put my finger on it, but I know if I stay put, I won’t be satisfied much longer.” That’s it, thought Evan. He goes to my church. Richard Cade.
“You’ve been praying about it, too, I’m sure.”
“My wife and I both have.” Okay, so if he’s having dinner with his wife, why allow this guy to sit down in her chair?
“I can see how you would be discouraged after so long. You’ve probably prayed a good three or four months before your search officially began.”
“Four months exactly.” Amazing.
Evan heard the chair behind him scoot back, followed by whispering. Unable to resist any longer, he turned around for just a second. Sure enough, the stranger now had his arm around Richard’s back and was whispering into his ear. He couldn’t make out any of the words, but he felt guilty enough for eavesdropping this much, so he didn’t dare try to lean in any closer. A few seconds later, the whispering had stopped, anyway.
As he started into his third bite, he saw the stranger walking right by his table, slowing down by the empty chair across from him. Or was he? Evan wasn’t sure. Did he want him to stop? What would he say? What would the stranger whisper? It didn’t matter. By the time his brain had processed these questions, the man in the white suit had passed on, walking straight past the cashier and back outside. No one else seemed to have noticed.
The chair behind him scuffled again. “Has anyone stopped by to take our orders yet?” It was Elizabeth, Richard’s wife.
“Not yet, but then we’ve only been seated a few minutes.”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Okay, what is it?”
“What?”
“You’re smiling. You found a job, didn’t you?”
“Not yet. But I have figured out where it’s going to be.”
“Where?” Now this, Evan had to hear.
Another pause. “I’ll tell you when we get home. We really should go over our Sunday School lesson for tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Cade replied without any ado.
Evan was stunned and disappointed. That past—how long had it been?—hour had been so surreal. Granted, the two men probably knew each other, but somehow he couldn’t shake the notion that they didn’t, making their conversation that much more extraordinary. Now he would never know what had been whispered. He didn’t know Richard personally, so he had no inroads to even approach him about a conversation he never should have heard in the first place.
Oh, well, he thought. Simply knowing wouldn’t really affect his life one way or the other, so it would be better to forget about it, anyway.
He looked down at his steak. It was long cold now, and his appetite had disappeared as quickly as Mr. Cade’s friend. The check was already on the table—when was anyone’s guess—so he pulled fifteen dollars out of his wallet and left it on the table next to it. The tip was slightly larger than usual, but he didn’t feel like waiting around for change. He was getting tired now, too. It was time to go home.