The Other Side of Darkness (20 page)

So we get in, and I have to admit that it feels pretty good. “Is this leather?” I ask Chuck before I close the door.

“Yeah, this baby is loaded. Not even two years old and only twelve thousand miles on her. She’s barely broken in, and yet you’re
getting a great deal. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about taking this one home myself.”

Rick nods and starts the ignition. It sounds pretty good, and then I notice it’s a five speed. “I don’t know how to drive a stick,” I say as Rick pulls the car out and heads toward the street.

“You can learn.” He pulls out into traffic.

I hold my breath as he zips around in this peppy little car. I’m not used to riding this low, to feeling the car moving so quickly. It’s frightening … and yet sort of exhilarating too. I can’t quite describe how it makes me feel. I peer at my husband, who seems to have turned into someone else behind the wheel.

He is smiling with a very relaxed look as he leans back into the seat. “I could get used to this.”

I kind of groan. “This is not a family car.” Something about this car seems evil to me. Maybe it’s the color or the way it smells, but it reminds me of the kind of car that is spawned from a midlife crisis or the kind that might bring one on.

He frowns. “I know it’s not a family car, but …”

“The kids would be packed in like sardines back there. And what if we wanted to take Sadie somewhere?”

“My pickup.”

I let out a loud sigh and lean back into the seat. This is crazy. Rick is letting his flesh rule his spirit again. How can I make him understand this is wrong? Wrong, wrong, wrong!

“I liked Chuck’s idea about date nights, Ruth.”

“Yeah, like that man should be giving out marriage advice.”

“He made a good point.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, Rick, but I do know this is nuts.
We cannot buy a car like this. Not at this stage of life, anyway. Maybe when the kids are all grown and we’re empty nesters.”

I almost add “like Kellie and Glenn Pratt” but fortunately think better of this. That would only irritate him. Still, I have to make him understand this car would be a big mistake. For all I know, the previous owner could’ve been demonized. Who knows what might’ve gone on in here? I want out of this car, and I want out right now. I’m already gripping the door handle, ready to leap out and shake myself off.

“What if we’re too old and decrepit to enjoy a car like this by then?” he asks as he turns back into the car lot.

Still gripping the door handle as I remind myself that I’ll need to wash very carefully to remove whatever sort of nastiness I’ve been exposed to, I quickly do the mental math. “I won’t even be fifty by the time Sarah graduates from high school. And you’ll only be fifty-three, Rick.”

“My dad died when he was fifty-three.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything.” I swallow hard. “Not really.”

“Maybe not to you …”

He’s barely parked the car, and I practically leap out. I can’t get away from this vehicle fast enough.

S
o it is that we buy not the evil red Nissan Sentra but a compromise. Chuck somehow talked us into a brand-new Nissan Altima, a sleek silver car with four doors and all the extras you could want and more. The sticker price is way beyond what Rick told him we could afford. But Chuck explained that the payments would be less since it’s new. Of course, this simply means we owe a whole lot more money for a much longer period of time, but, as Rick points out, we pretty much live by our monthly budget anyway.

“A car payment is a car payment,” he says. “And you are going to get a paying job, right?”

I nod like this is a fact. Then Rick asks if I mind driving the car home so he can make it to work on time. “It’ll take them about an hour to finish the paperwork and get the car ready.”

“That’s fine,” I assure him. Then after he leaves, I hurry to the women’s rest room. Relieved to see it’s the kind with only one toilet and a locking door, I remove my blazer, gingerly hang it on the door’s hook, and immediately scrub my hands clear up to my elbows. As I scrub, I try not to imagine my husband slaving away at work, working himself to death because of my blunder of totaling our minivan and then purchasing a vehicle beyond our means. I try not to remember what he said about his dad dying young. But when I finally return to the waiting room, it’s all I can think about. Even though I try to
pray, all I can think of is Rick’s early demise. In my mind’s eye I can see my husband stretched out on the floor at work, paramedics gathered around, shaking their heads as they put away their cardio equipment and pronounce him dead at the scene. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Finally I am in the new Altima, and I push these intrusive thoughts away as I very carefully drive out of the dealership lot. I haven’t been behind the wheel since the day of the wreck, and I need to pay attention, not only to my own driving but to other drivers as well. Defensive driving, as my dad would say. Defensive, defensive, defensive.

I cautiously navigate my way to Valley Bridge Fellowship, taking the quieter back streets, driving like a ninety-year-old woman with cataracts. Finally I see the girls’ school and feel my iron grip on the steering wheel loosen a bit. I no longer think of these buildings as “the church,” as I did before, because it’s not
my
church anymore. And after today, it won’t be my daughters’ church either. It will simply be their school. Valley Bridge Christian School. That’s all.

Maybe this news of switching churches will digest more easily once they see the new car. I can just imagine their squeals of delight when they climb inside and see all the extras. This car makes our old minivan look like a dinosaur. It’s a relief to know that this car has been carefully cleaned, and as far as I can see, it’s spotless. And since it’s new, I’m not overly worried about the bad spiritual vibes that previous owners may have left behind. Yet I realize that others may have driven it, if only briefly, and I take the time to pray over the car, to cast out any possible demons.

I’m in the midst of a particularly powerful casting-out sentence when I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of someone knocking on the window. I turn to see Colleen peering in at me. I push the button to lower the window, trying not to look too startled.

“Man, I thought that was you in here! What a cool car, Ruth!”

It’s still a few minutes before school lets out, so I get out of the car to talk to her. “We just bought it.”

“Look at you!” she says, checking me out. “What’re you dressed up for? Let me guess. You’re going in to talk to Darlene about the job, right? She’s there until—”

“I, uh, I already got a job.”

“Huh?” She looks at me curiously. “When did you have time to do that?”

“It was sort of in the works …”

“Did it have to do with that Jaguar in your driveway yesterday?”

“As a matter of fact, it sort of did.”

She frowns. “So what kind of job is this, Ruth? Some kind of selling? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for one of those pyramid scams?”

I laugh. “You mean like you did?”

“That was a long time ago. And even so, you should’ve learned from my mistake.”

“It’s not a pyramid.”

“Well, what then?”

I glance at my watch and see that it’s straight up three o’clock now. “The kids will be getting out. I better get ready to scram.”

She glances back to see the cars lining up and knows I’m right. “Okay, well, call me then. I want to hear about this job.” She grins. “You look like a million bucks, Ruth, standing there by that car.”

My cheeks grow warm. Part of me is flattered, but the rest of me knows it’s vanity and sin. I wave and get back into my car, lowering the passenger-side window so I can yell at the girls when they come out. I’m sure they won’t be expecting me to pick them up today and certainly not in something like this.

I grin like a clown when my girls come out the door. I holler their names and enjoy the looks of astonished surprise when they realize it’s their mom in the fancy silver car. Mary is the first one over, jumping happily into the front passenger seat, but Sarah doesn’t look too unhappy as she climbs into the back. And then they both start talking at once as I pull away, making room for the line to move up.

“Slow down and buckle up. I can’t answer both your questions at once.” Then I explain that, yes, this is our new car, and that Daddy and I just got it today.

“This must’ve been expensive.” Mary turns on the radio. “It even has a CD player, Mom. Look, it can hold six CDs.”

They both carefully check everything out, exclaiming over every new discovery. And just before we get home, I tell them that I’ve taken a job and that it will involve switching churches as well.

“We have to go to a different church?” Mary says in dismay.

“Yes. It’s part of my job. Since I’m the director of kids’ ministries, my kids need to go there too.”

“You’re the director?” Sarah sounds impressed. “Just like Mrs. Stanton?”

“Yes,” I tell her as I turn down our street, “just like her.”

“Does that mean we won’t go to school at Valley Bridge anymore?”

I can’t tell by the tone of Mary’s voice whether she thinks that would be good or bad. “This church doesn’t have a school. You girls will continue at VBF.”

“Good!” exclaims Mary.

“So you finally decided you like it?” I ask in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool now that Pastor Glenn is gone.”

“I like it too,” chimes in Sarah.

“It’s like you said, Mom,” Mary continues in her mature tone. “It just takes time.”

I swallow hard, trying to decide how much to tell them right now. “Well, that’s how it will be with our new church too. It’ll just take time.”

Thankfully, I am pulling into the driveway. The girls will be distracted by chores and homework, and I won’t have to answer any more difficult questions about our new church. Perhaps it’s better just to let them find these things out for themselves.

Once they’re occupied, I go to my room, and after changing from my nice suit into everyday clothes, I get down on my knees and pray.

“Some things are better left unsaid,” my mother used to tell me in a stern voice, her hint that I should butt out of her business. Like the time she and Dad almost got a divorce. Lynette and Jonathan seemed fairly oblivious to the whole thing, but I knew what was going on from the start. Still, I knew better than to push too hard on such matters. It didn’t take much for my mother to lower her sights onto me, and the next thing I’d know, I was doing extra chores, cutting switches, or being grounded.

As much as I resented that then, I’m beginning to think maybe she was right. The less said about our new church situation, the smoother I suspect it will go. After all, Mary and Sarah are my children. If I say it’s time to change churches, what right do they have to protest?

It would be different if Rick were more involved in the spiritual welfare of this family. And as much as it pains me to admit this, I’m afraid there’s little I can do to influence Matthew in this regard. It was hard enough making him go to Valley Bridge Fellowship with me. Getting him to go to this much smaller and different sort of fellowship
would be nothing short of a miracle. Still, I pray for this miracle and even more as I travail for my family and our new church.

By the time I finish praying, my knees are sore, and I feel exhausted. It’s not easy to hold back the forces of evil when you are only one woman. I go out to see how my daughters are faring, only to discover that they have abandoned their homework and are out in the backyard huddled around something.

“What are you doing?” I call out the patio door.

“We found a kitten.” Sarah holds up a scrawny black cat that looks to be a few months old.

“She must be a Halloween cat,” Mary says as they bring the cat toward me.

“Can we keep her, Mom? Isn’t she sweet?” Sarah holds up the young cat for me to see better.

“She or he must belong to a neighbor,” I tell them.

“She doesn’t have a collar,” Mary points out.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have an owner.”

“But she’s hungry,” says Sarah. “She was eating Sadie’s food.”

“Where is Sadie?”

“We put her in the laundry room. Didn’t you hear her barking at the kitten?”

I consider this and realize I must’ve been deep in prayer then. “Well, it’s time to come in. Leave the cat outside.”

“We can’t leave her all alone,” Sarah says, close to tears. “It’ll be dark soon, and she’s hungry.”

I feel exasperated. The last thing we need is a cat.

“Can’t we just keep her for the night,” suggests Mary, “then put out a Found Cat sign tomorrow with our phone number?”

“Can’t we just feed her and give her a bed?” asks Sarah. “Jesus said
that what we do for the least of them, we do for him. Can’t we take care of her for Jesus? She needs our help, Mommy.”

“How do you know the cat is a she?”

“Mary said so.”

Mary grins at me. “Katy told me how you tell. You know they have cats, Mom. I called her, and she explained everything.”

“Everything?” My brows lift.

“Just for the night?” pleads Sarah.

I think perhaps I see the Lord’s hand in this. “Okay,” I finally say, “but on one condition, girls.”

“What?” they say in unison.

“You feed her and make her a bed in the laundry room, and then there is no complaining when it’s time to go to church and she has to stay behind.” I am surprised at how readily they agree to this plan. In fact, as we’re getting in the new car to go to our new church, I wonder if I wasn’t the one who was duped.

“Now remember our agreement.” I start the car and carefully back out. “No complaining.”

“You mean about leaving the cat at home,” asks Mary, “or about going to this new church?”

“Both.” I explain how the church is still small and how there isn’t a kids’ program yet.

“That’s because you’re going to do it?” asks Sarah.

“That’s right. But there will be a lot of music tonight,” I assure them. Brother Glenn told us at the meeting today that until the kids’ program takes off, they’ll try to keep the services more children friendly.