Bossy Bridegroom (10 page)

“I wish you’d brought Emily in, Jake. I haven’t been out yet with a meal. I get lonely for her.” Emily had been the best support in this last year. She was steady, sensible. Buffy was, too, but she had the same scars from her childhood that Jeanie had. And she had her hands really full. Plus Jeanie felt like such a failure around Buffy, no matter how kindly Buffy treated her.

Michael offered to design a simple clubhouse, and several of the men owned golf carts. They kept them in Hot Springs at the country club, the nearest place to play. But they offered to rent them out for people wanting to get from the cabins to the shops uptown to the golf course.

Jeanie listened with part of her attention while she did her figuring. Michael and his enthusiasm had caught fire yet again. She wanted to smile. She also had a twinge of concern that the local people were taking on too much, maybe donating more than they could afford.

With a mental shrug, Jeanie typed on until the crowd got agitated with a need to act and they all scrambled out the door, heading toward the future Cold Creek Links.

Jeanie spent another hour on her books then walked out to the nursing home to spend some time with her hospice patients. The outlook was bleak for both the patients, as was always the case, but one, Pete Hillman, had his family called in and wasn’t expected to live through the night. Sadness hung heavy in the air. Jeanie spent a long while with Pete’s two sons and their elderly mother as they discussed details of a funeral and all the complications involved in a loved one’s death.

Her other hospice person, Janet Lessman, was in nearly as fragile a condition, and the elderly woman had her husband sitting faithfully by her side for hours every day. They had time for a brief visit and some prayer before she left.

By the time she walked home, it was well past time for dinner.

She came inside to find Michael striding back and forth. He looked up as if he’d been afraid she was dead. “Where have you been?” He was at her side in an instant.

“I was visiting at the manor. You know I spend a few evenings a week out there. One of my clients is dying.”

“I thought they were all dying. I thought that’s what hospice was all about.”

With a sad nod, Jeanie said, “That’s right, but the time is really close for Mr. Hillman. His family had a lot of questions and just needed someone there to handle the details.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He hugged her. “You worried me.”

“Did you call the nursing home or anywhere else to check on me?”

“No, I haven’t been home that long. But I was late, so I knew you were late.” He pulled her closer. “I’m sorry. It just … it reminded me of the time we spent apart. I just kind of freaked out. Panicked. I was going to call 911 in about two minutes.” He laughed.

She felt him shake his head against her neck. She felt the tremors. He’d really been worried. She lifted her arms to hold him, comfort him.

“Can you just leave a note next time if you’re going to be late? Something.” Michael gave another shaky laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s like I’m a parent worried about a kid who missed curfew. If you’d put your schedule on the refrigerator, it would give me a place to start looking.”

Jeanie hugged him hard then pulled away. “Or a reminder that you don’t need to start looking.” She ran both hands into his hair, pushing it off his forehead. Then she pulled him down and kissed him. “Yes, I’ll put the schedule up. It’s a lot simpler now, without the work hours. And both the choir and my Tuesday Bible study are on summer break. Girl Scouts, too. I haven’t been helping with the 4-H Club like I should, so I’ve kind of let others take over for the county fair, which is next week. So I’m pretty free these days, except for running the café and the bait and tackle store and the craft shop.”

“I asked Bucky to find someone to take over the tackle store. I hope that’s okay. I mean, how would you know what to order for tackle? Bucky knows an area fisherman or two who know just how they’d like things to be. And two of your seniors are going to run things for the craft shop.”

Jeanie concealed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. The café is keeping me really busy.”

Feeling impish with so much weight off of her shoulders, she asked, “So, what are you making me for supper?”

Catching her face in both hands, Michael kissed her with a comic smack. “I’ll be glad to make supper for my runaway bride. Let me see, what do I know how to make? Uh … cold cereal? No wait, do we have hot dogs?” He strode toward the kitchen. Glancing back, his eyes shone with mischief. “Do they have to be hot, or can we just eat them right out of the package?”

Jeanie caught up with him and shoved him playfully. “Forget it. I’m not trusting you within a mile of something I’m going to put in my stomach. I’ll cook.”

Stumbling for just a step, Michael grabbed her as if to keep his balance and began tickling her. Laughing, she tried to escape, but he pulled her back, the tickling making her squirm and laugh like a loon.

“Stop.” Jeanie finally yelled through her giggling. “I give. You win.”

“Just remember who’s bigger next time you make me worry.” Michael left the kitchen. “Call me when dinner’s ready. I’ve got some phone calls to make.”

Too tired to get fancy, Jeanie put a couple of hamburgers in the skillet and warmed a can of vegetables; then she turned her attention to writing up her schedule as Michael had asked. It was different having to consider him. She thought they’d talked about all of her commitments, and heaven knew she’d dropped a lot of them, but he didn’t have it all straight. A quick thrust of impatience had her thinking of all the details he juggled with his many projects, but somehow he couldn’t remember that Jeanie visited hospice patients?

As she wrote, she realized just how many things she’d dropped in the two months since he’d been back. She’d even told the hospice organizer that she didn’t want to be assigned any more clients, and Michael had found someone else to clean the church and weed the flower beds.

She was left with Monday morning church services at the nursing home, two quickly failing hospice patients, and some substitute piano playing at church. Michael was wheedling for her to do that only when absolutely necessary, because he wanted her to sit with him. As it was, she’d started coming down from behind the piano between songs.

She knew he chafed at her resuming her involvement with the Girl Scouts and the 4-H Club. She’d already told the other leaders that she wouldn’t be available much from now on.

She had gone from busy all day every day to working about three hours a week outside the café. She tapped the paper as she studied it. Three hours, and Michael couldn’t keep that straight? Her jaw tightened. How had this happened? He’d done some pushing, but she’d mostly just assumed he’d want her to quit. Actually, he’d been quiet about it, but she’d gotten the message.

Was this something she should bring up as part of being honest in her new marriage?

God, is it?

It wasn’t comfortable, this total giving up of everything she was in order to be Michael’s devoted wife. But she was still busy with the café and the book work she did.

The Bible verse about courage she had taped on her mirror at her tiny apartment was still there. She hadn’t brought it along, but she had it memorized.

“We want you to be very strong, in keeping with his glorious power. We want you to be patient. Never give up. Be joyful.”

Where was her strength? All residing in Michael’s hands.

Yes, she had been patient, but was it the patience of strength, or was it just the quiet nature of a quitter, a coward?

Had she given up? It didn’t feel like it, but it had been so incremental.

“Be joyful.”
She was happy in her marriage. Michael wasn’t the tyrant he’d once been. Or was he? Was he even aware that he’d taken over Jeanie’s life completely? And didn’t a husband have the first claim on his wife’s time?

God had even been pushed out of the center of her life. They prayed together over meals, but Jeanie hadn’t had her quiet time with the Lord in the early mornings for a while. After they’d moved, she’d just never gotten back in the habit.

Should I challenge Michael on this?

In prayer, she listened for the leading of God. Instead of God’s voice she heard Michael talk in the room he’d converted into an office. The words weren’t audible, but the rising and falling of his salesman voice was clear.

For some reason, listening to that persuasive cadence made her look around her kitchen for her bat. She hadn’t seen it for a while. Odd that she suddenly wished for it.

Turning the dinner down, she hunted for her Bible and had a crushing sense of guilt that it took her many long minutes to find it, neatly tucked in a bookshelf.

She brought it with her to the kitchen and realized that the hamburgers had gotten too brown. Turning them off, she used a spatula to set them on a plate with the cold clink of metal on glass.

“Michael, dinner is ready.” She’d read later.

“I’m almost done. I’ll be right there.”

Jeanie almost smiled at those familiar words. How many times had she held supper for him? He always had just one more call. She looked at the hamburger. Not burnt, but a bit crisp on one side. And the vegetables, one glance told her the green beans had cooked until they were mushy.

Michael would notice this. She almost rushed to the pantry closet for a new can of beans. If he delayed much longer, she’d be able to have a new hamburger cooked for him. She had some frozen, and with the microwave to thaw it—

She caught herself. “No. He’ll eat it and be nice about it. Or he won’t and I’ll call him on it.” Jeanie put a hamburger on Michael’s plate and a serving of beans, then made a plate for herself and set it aside.

His voice continued in the background.

“It’s getting cold, Mike.”

“Just hang on another couple of minutes.” He went on talking.

She sat down and opened her Bible. She’d marked verses about courage. She needed the kind of courage that she found only in the Lord. Because if Michael came in here and said one thing about the dinner or about her being late or too busy, she was going to stand up to him. And if he didn’t take that well, she was moving out.

God, do I need to stand up for myself? Or am I just creating conflict in my home?

Prayerfully, she read her marked pages, trying to decide if she was willing to end up, before the night was over, alone in her little apartment.

Michael hung up the phone, satisfied with the plans in place for the Fourth of July.

The Rapid City media was playing up the buffalo herd. Michael had placed some stories here and there about the fishing in Cold Creek and the small town charm. The cabins had been full every weekend since they’d opened, and he’d had enough weeklong reservations to make the place profitable, but it could do a lot better. They needed some hiking trails, maybe hook-ups for campers.

His mind busy, he went to the kitchen and found Jeanie reading at the table. His dinner was served and ready for him. Leaning down to kiss her cheek, he saw the Bible and his heart warmed. “You’re wonderful, you know? I’m so glad we’re together again.”

She lifted her chin, and their lips met. She closed the Bible, set it aside, and pulled her plate into place. Michael sat next to her. Their hands clasped, then he pulled her close and they turned to God in prayer.

When they’d finished, they ate supper. Michael made no unkind mention of the pathetic meal.

Michael slid both their plates aside when they were done, and he picked up her Bible. “What were you studying when I came in for supper?” He flicked his finger over the row of bright pink sticky notes on the top of the book.

Jeanie smiled up at him, her gift of sunlight to him. Michael prayed silently as she took the Bible and flipped it open at one of the tiny stickies. “I’ve marked all the verses I can find about courage. It’s been my one constant quest. I’m a coward. I’ve done terrible things out of fear.” She flipped open the book to Colossians. “I’ve claimed this as my life verse.”

Michael read. “I recognize this from our bathroom mirror at the apartment.”

“Paul writing a letter of encouragement to the Colossians.” Jeanie’s graceful hand slid down the page to rest by the first verse. “‘We want you to be very strong, in keeping with his glorious power. We want you to be patient. Never give up. Be joyful.’ All of this was missing in my life on the day I gave up Sally. I ran away, hitched a ride, and ended up in Denver. I’d stolen money from Buffy. I left feeling like …” Jeanie’s eyes fell closed, and she shook her head.

“Like what, honey?” Michael sat around the corner from her. He scooted his chair so he was by her side and slid his arm around her shoulders, wishing his physical support could provide emotional support.

“Like I didn’t deserve to live.” She rested her head on his chest. “I felt so awful, just worthless. The bus station in Denver … I just walked out of it with no idea where to go from there.”

She took a deep breath. “I saw a homeless shelter. There was a sign asking for volunteers. I still had some money but not that much. It was late, and I was in a bad neighborhood. I had no idea where to find a motel. I went in intending to help and get a meal in exchange, maybe even a place to sleep. I ended up staying for six months.”

“In a homeless shelter?” Michael’s skin crawled as he thought of the dangerous people who would inhabit such a place. He rubbed her shoulder as he imagined the filth and the bad food and the—

“I found God in that place. The man running the mission was a beautiful Christian. The kitchen had several people in it who had pretty much walked in off the street like I had. They were wonderful, accepting.” Jeanie gave a short, humorless laugh. “They’d all done things as bad or worse than I had. They were so shorthanded and thrilled with my offer to help. They—they needed me.” Her voice faded to a whisper, as if being needed was beyond her imagination. Jeanie closed the Bible gently and hugged it. “I don’t know if anyone had ever needed me before.”

“I need you, Jeanie.” He pulled her close, hugging her, the Bible between them. It felt so right.