Authors: Donna Fletcher Crow
Why did she see it only now? Now that it was too late?
She paused at the back to light a candle for Tom. Wherever he was. Whatever he was doing. The flame rose golden and bright, glowing in its small red glass.
… and so there it is. I put our marriage first. Tom put the business first. We were both wrong. Everything was in the wrong order. Something—Someone—else had to come first. I used my work to shut out everything else just as much as Tom did.
A story—I remember a story—young women invited to a wedding. Silly, careless girls who let their lamps burn out. And so they missed the feast. The wedding feast.
I am one of those silly creatures. I let my oil run out. My flame died. And now I see my mistake. Too late.
Tom gone off with Marla. And I’m here in a dark world with an empty lamp. Oh, Tom, are you sure she’ll make you happy?
Laura’s pen stilled as she stared at the door. If only she could have another chance. If only she could see Tom walk through that door just once more. She turned back to her journal, but no words would come. Only the deep, deep sadness of regret.
Too late, too late.
The maid rattled the door, but Laura didn’t look up. Housekeeping had already been there, they—“Tom!”
He stood before her like something conjured from her deepest longing with his arms full of roses. Were they for Marla? Why had he brought them here? “Laura, thank God you’re here.”
“Where did you think I’d be?”
“I didn’t know. When I came back you were gone—out for an early breakfast, I guessed—but you were gone so long. I made all the arrangements, then I began to worry.”
“Arrangements?”
“Oh.” He looked at the roses as if he’d forgotten he was carrying them. “Roses for my bride.” He placed them in her arms. “I’ve come to carry you off to a real honeymoon. All we have to do is gather up your stuff—I already put mine in the car.”
Tom’s luggage was in the car? Waiting for her?
Laura’s journal slipped to the floor. Tom bent to pick it up. “Read it,” she said.
His eyes skimmed the page, then he dropped to his knees beside her. “Oh, Laura, you thought … of course you did. I see how it looked.” He struck his head with his palm. “Stupid. I should have left you a note. But I wanted to surprise you. And I thought I’d be back in a few minutes—but then it took me forever to find a florist, and all the traffic—”
He took her hands. “Laura, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have marched Marla off like that without explaining to you. But all I could think of was getting rid of her—getting her away where she couldn’t hurt you anymore. I didn’t have any idea it would take so long—negotiating all the business. But I wanted it settled. Final.”
“What settled?”
“The business. I wanted Marla out of our lives. Every aspect of our lives. No amount of money is more important than our marriage. The financial concerns got in the way of everything—friends, you, God. Laura, can you forgive me for putting you through so much?”
She looked at the dew-fresh roses nestled in her arm. “Well, you never promised me a rose garden.” She grinned. “I wonder if Jenny ever said that to Mr. Butchart?” And then her practical side surfaced. “But what about the business? Where will you get the money?”
“I think I can get the bank here to finance it. But, anyway, these projects—which you found, my darling—” he paused to kiss the tip of her nose, “are such good ones, we’ll make it.”
Laura grinned. “Do I get a finder’s fee from the deal?”
“You get the dealer. If you still want him.”
She dropped her bridal bouquet and opened her arms to her bridegroom.
My soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels.
Tom pulled back and lifted her to her feet. “Shall we go?”
“Go?”
“That’s my surprise—our honeymoon at the Old England Inn. I can’t wait to get started on it.”
As they drove toward their new life Laura realized she was alone in the car with Tom. Truly alone. Marla was no longer there sitting between them. And now she could even feel sorry for Marla. How desperately unhappy she must be to throw herself at a man like that. All she had was her money and her surface beauty. Perhaps in time Laura could even come to pray for her.
The inn welcomed them with its wonderful Tudor timelessness. Laura stood in the grand entry hall and looked around her. “Stepping back in history—”
“In order to step forward into the future—our future.” Tom swept her off her feet and carried her up the wide, red-carpeted stairway. But at the top he let her walk again. “Don’t want to use all my strength on heroics.” He grinned.
Laura’s heart turned over. There was the boyish grin she had married and thought gone forever. The afternoon sun shone through the beveled and leaded windowpanes, engulfing them.
Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle about their shoulders, and a crown upon their foreheads.
Tom led the way down a narrow, crooked hallway to the golden heart marking the honeymoon suite and into the rich, red velvet draping of the Elizabethan room.
While the liveried footman brought up their luggage, Laura pulled an arrangement of dried flowers out of a vase and filled it with water for her bouquet. She placed the roses on an aged black oak chest, then noticed the carving. “Oh, Tom, come look!” She couldn’t believe what she was reading. “‘IH & GH 1660.’ This was a wedding chest—remember when the guide at Anne Hathaway’s cottage told us about them? A groom carved this for his bride in the year Charles II was restored to the throne.” She ran her fingers over the raised letters and Tudor roses. “Just think of it!”
“I am thinking.” There it was—that wonderful grin again. “The chest is great, but there’s another piece of furniture in here that interests me more.” He drew her over to the massive black oak bed with its deep velvet curtains trimmed in gold braid and pulled her to the fur spread. “My beloved, my bride, my wife.” He lay beside her.
“Yes, all that.” She smiled softly. “And I’m something else too. I’m also the mother of your child. At least I will be in just under nine months. I saw a doctor this morning.”
“Laura …” He choked. “There really aren’t enough ways to say thank you, are there?”
“No, but this comes close.” She reached over to the nightstand for the Bible there. “By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not … But I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go.”
Tom took the book from her hand. “Thou art beautiful, O my love. How beautiful … Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart … A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.”
But the springs, no longer shut up, were bubbling inside Laura. The fountain would never again be sealed against her husband. “The fountain in my garden is a spring of running water, ‘a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.’”
The book slid from her hand as she became increasingly aware of her husband’s touch. As the minutes melted and their experience deepened, Laura became aware of a subtle change. The significance shifted from physical intimacy to spiritual intimacy, as if the closer she came to Tom, the closer she came to God. Giving unselfishly of themselves, they were no longer isolated individuals, but a perfect whole. Truly one—one in each other and one in Christ. The joyous communion between them became a channel for intimacy with the Father.
Like Adam and Eve before the Fall, they stood in the presence of God, the God that had created them for love. Tom’s voice came to her softly, “I have come to my garden, my beloved, my bride, and have plucked my myrrh with my spices; I have eaten my honey and my syrup, I have drunk my wine and my milk.”
_________________
References and Acknowledgments
The Book of Common Prayer
(London: Eyre and Spottiswoode Ltd., 1964).
Gallagher, C. A., G. A. Maloney, et. al.,
Embodied in Love, Sacramental Spirituality and Sexual Intimacy
(New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1983).
Heggen, Carolyn Holderread, “Working Toward a Theology of Sexuality,”
Herald of Holiness,
July 1997, 20-31.
LaHaye, Tim and Beverly,
The Act of Marriage: The Beauty of Sexual Love
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1976).
Peters, Jim, “The Other Woman,”
Herald of Holiness,
November 1997, 21-23.
Schalesky, Marlo, “Cross-Gender Friendships: Are They Dangerous to Your Marriage?”
Herald of Holiness,
November 1997, 24-35.
Thank you, Bob Mack, Detective, Voilent Crimes Division, Boise Police Department.