Trouble's Brewing (21 page)
“Well! I was not spreading it, I was trying to confirm it.”
“Same difference,” Fred said. “Thanks for the sweet rolls and have a good night.”
Fred shut the door right in her face, and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Why, Fred, you’re so forceful. Did I ever tell you how much I like forceful men?”
Fred took the tray of sweet rolls and put it on the coffee table, then took my hand, pulling me toward the bedroom. “Is that so?” he asked. I nodded as he shut the door behind us.
Bang!
What a crash. We opened the bedroom door and looked out. There was Chucky, standing in the middle of the carpet, gobbling sweet rolls as fast as he could.
The morning after he emptied the old boxes in his closet, Clay made several trips up and down the stairwell leading to his room, lugging dilapidated cardboard and large bags of what represented the first thirty-some years of his life. With one load deposited at the large green Dumpster behind the building, he headed back for another until everything was gone except what little bit he wanted to hold on to.
That and the old photographs, which now lay in two piles in front of his La-Z-Boy. One he mentally labeled “My Life in General” and the other “My Life and Donna’s.”
When he’d finished his task, he took his morning walk, arching his back a little more than he had when he’d first started. Several of the locals had begun to accustom themselves to seeing him out on the streets and took to saying things like “You’re looking good there, Clay.”
After his breakfast at the café, he sprinted down Main Street, just in time for Alpine Card Shop to open its doors. There was a new girl working the cash register, but Clay didn’t have time for introductions right then. He went directly to a glass shelf lined with sample photo albums and scanned them with his eyes until The Price of a Memory he found the one perfect for his idea. He carefully lifted it from the shelf and took it to the front, where the new girl, Britney, stood smiling behind the counter.
“Would you like to purchase this?” she asked.
“Yes, I would.”
She took the album from his hands, checked the stock number on its back, and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Clay leaned against the counter as Britney went to the storeroom for his purchase. He heard a creaking from overhead, then remembered that Goldie would be at work already. Britney reappeared, carrying a large but thin blue box with her. “This is a beautiful photo album,” she said. “The material on the front looks like lapis. That’s why it’s called ‘Lapis.’”
Clay merely nodded. He didn’t care what it was called. All he knew was that it was pretty and that Donna would like it.
“The artisans use traditional bookbinding techniques. That’s why it’s a little more expensive than most.”
“Artisans?” Clay asked.
“Mmm-hmm.”
He snickered as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I don’t think I ever thought of it that way.”
“Thought of what, what way?”
“Those machines that put all these books together.”
Britney laid the box on the counter and reached for the credit card Clay now held out to her. “Oh no. These are handmade.”
Clay smiled at her. “I see.”
Britney finished the transaction and said, “That’ll be $102.65.”
Clay swallowed hard. “Say that again?”
Chances I had pretty much decided the world was coming to an end. In a matter of a little more than a few months, Jan had died, leaving a painful gap in my heart; my son had moved home and actually had the audacity to go out on a date; and word on the street was that Evangeline Benson and Bob Burnett were engaged. (I’d nearly died when Lisa Leann phoned me to report what she knew, then added, “Well, she won’t have to change her monogram, will she?”)
If all that weren’t enough, I feared my friend Goldie was falling for a man to whom she was not married. Did anyone take their marriage vows seriously anymore?
If ever I needed Jan Moore, it was now.
I hadn’t realized how special and important she was in my life until she was gone. In spite of not being a formal member of the Potluck Club, she was one who, when I asked for prayer, I knew would pray. Not just a one-sentence offering, either. Jan spent time alone in the presence of God for those she called her friends.
If she were here right now, I could call her and ask her to pray with me … or ask her what she would do in a similar situation.
She isn’t, but God is
, a familiar voice spoke to my heart.
“Oh, Father,” I prayed from the middle of my bed, where I’d been curled up like a baby, drinking up the silence of my home. “Tell me what to do.”
I waited for a few moments, listening as hard as I could to what God might say. When a half hour passed and still I had nothing but the ache inside my heart, I rose from the bed and walked down the staircase, which was wrapped in the holiday garland I’d put up the weekend before, to the family room Michelle had decorated with Christmastime china dolls.
Michelle and Adam, a new beau she had yet to introduce to us, were going out after work, so she wasn’t home. Samuel had a late afternoon meeting at the bank, and Tim hadn’t come home yet. The house—quiet and nearly abandoned—was all mine.
I sat in my favorite chair and flipped on the television with the remote. A classic movie was playing on AMC; I curled my feet up under me and settled in to see if I’d ever seen it before.
I had:
Girl on a Mission
, which ironically starred Harmony Harris. In the movie, Harmony plays Zina Nolen, a secretary who is paid by her boss’s wife to flirt with her husband while the wife is away on a Christmas vacation in the Caribbean. The wife wants to know if “when the cat’s away the mouse will play.” When Zina appears to be taking her “mission” too seriously, the boss’s mother calls her daughter-in-law and says, “My dear, if you have half a brain in your head, you’ll wipe off that suntan oil and get home immediately.”
My eyes brightened and my mouth formed an
O
.
Why didn’t I think of that?
I popped up from the chair, praising God all the way to the front window of the living room. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Who says you don’t use the media to reach your children?”
I leaned around the Christmas tree and peered out the window and down the street. No sight of Tim’s car.
Perfect.
Minutes later, I was once again curled on my bed—though this time upright. I dialed the number of my daughter-in-law.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Samantha?” I said brightly.
“Mom?”
“My dear, if you have half a brain in your head, you’ll wipe off that suntan oil and get home immediately.”
“Excuse me?”
I shook my head in amusement. “That’s a line from an old movie.”
“Oh.”
“I have a question for you … ready?”
“I suppose.”
“Do you want Tim back?”
“I do … but not the way things have been. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
I crossed my legs. “Samantha, nothing will change if you remain thousands of miles apart. I want you to pack up the kids and get yourself out here. They’re out of school when?”
“Friday.”
“I suggest you make a sacrifice and take them out early. It won’t kill them, and in the long run it’ll be for the best.”
Samantha paused before chuckling. “I can’t believe I’m hearing you of all people say that.”
“Well?”
Again, she paused. “Okay. I’ll do it. Should I call him and let him know?”
“No. I’ll take it from here.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Call me on my cell phone and leave a message as to your flight, okay? Don’t call the house.” I felt deliciously wicked. “And whatever it costs for the tickets, I’ll reimburse you.”
“Wow. Okay, then,” she said with another laugh. “Uh … Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there any particular reason you’ve felt the sudden need to get us up there?”
It was my turn to pause. A gold-beaded reindeer standing on my dresser caught my attention, and I said, “It’s Christmas. Christmas is for families, and families should be together.”
I hung up, then looked up at the ceiling and gave God an imaginary high five just as I heard the front door open and close.
“Mom? Dad?” Tim called up.
“Right here,” I called back, then met him at the foot of the stairs.
He eyed me suspiciously. “What are you up to?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, brushing past him. I could smell the smothered pork chops I’d left simmering on the stove since I’d arrived home from work. They were no doubt perfect for eating.
Tim was on my heels. “I know that face. What’s going on?”
I removed the frying pan from the stove top and set it on a trivet. “Nothing. I was just watching a cute little movie on AMC.”
From where we stood he could easily see into the family room. He looked from there to the stairs I’d just come down. “But you were upstairs.”
I fluttered my hands about and said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tim. Do you have to know everything about your mother? Now, go get ready for dinner. It’s just the two of us.” I looked down at my watch. “Unless your father makes it home fairly soon.”
My son complied. I watched him head downstairs then blew a pent-up breath out of my lungs. “Lizzie,” I said aloud, “that was close.”
A quick check of my cell phone inbox the following morning revealed that Samantha would be flying in at around 2:30 in the afternoon. The school wouldn’t like it, but I would have to sneak out early so I could pick her up.
I called Samuel shortly before he headed out for lunch.
“I have to go to the airport after work,” I began my confession.
“The airport? Someone from the Board of Education flying in?”
“Um, no.” I sat in the chair at my desk.
“Well, what then?”
I closed my eyes to the scolding I was sure to get when he heard what I’d done. “I invited Samantha and the kids to join us for the remainder of the holidays.” Samuel was so quiet he frightened me. “Samuel?”
“Lizzie, didn’t we agree not to interfere?”
I crossed my legs and opened my eyes. “No. No, we did not. You may have decided that you wouldn’t get involved, but I didn’t.”
More silence. Then, “Does Tim know?”
“No.”
I heard him sigh, though it sounded more like a growl.
“All right, then. Dinner should be interesting tonight.”
I brightened. “I was thinking we could all go to Apple’s. Sam and his family and Sis and hers too.”
Silence.
“Samuel?”
“Won’t that be a little awkward? For Tim, if not for both Tim and Samantha?”
I nodded as though he could see me. “I thought about that, and here’s what I’m thinking. If we go out as a family, Tim may be more at ease … can see what he’s missing … and they won’t be pressured to have an emotional, heartfelt discussion about their future. And, Samuel, they do have a future.”
I heard him take a deep breath and exhale before saying, “Sounds good. I’ll see you this evening.”
I grimaced as I disconnected the call, though I couldn’t have been more pleased with the way things were going so far. I reached for my cell phone and dialed Tim’s new office number.
“Tim Prattle,” he said efficiently.
“Tim? It’s Mom.”
“Hey, there.”
“Just wanted you to know that we’re having a family outing tonight at Apple’s. Would you let Michelle know? Maybe she’ll even bring this new guy we keep hearing about.”
“He’s a nice guy. You’ll like him.”
“I’m sure he is. What about dinner? Sound good to you?”
“Sure. Sounds fine. What about Sam and Sis?”
“I’ll call them.” A sudden thought struck me, and my stomach knotted up. “Tim?”
“Yeah.”
“Please don’t bring anyone I wouldn’t approve of.”
“I wouldn’t do a thing like that,” he said.
Well, I would have never guessed you’d leave your wife and children either, but you have.
“Besides, I told you it was nothing.”
“Does that mean you’re thinking about your marriage again?”
“Mom, I always think about my marriage. I miss my wife and the kids so much I hurt. I just … something is just not right, and it has to get fixed.”
“And you think you can do it apart?”
“Right now, I don’t know any other way.”
I grinned in spite of myself. “Well, son. I believe God will provide that way. I really do.”
“I know you do, Mom. Uh … I have to get back to work. I’ll meet you at the house.”
I disconnected the line, stood, and danced around my chair. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” I sang. “Everywhere you go …”
Summit View’s Main Street was ablaze with Christmas lights and garland wrapped around the old Victorian lampposts and lining the storefront windows. There was a Christmas tree laden with large bulbs of bright colors on each block. Frost was in the air, the snow had begun to fall, and my heart was warm as I drove my daughter-in-law and grandchildren to the house after their flight had come in a little later than it had originally been scheduled to arrive.
Because the days had grown short, darkness had already descended and the street was lit up, causing the children to giggle as they sang Christmas carols from the backseat of the car. From deep within, my soul continued in its own song.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord. Thank you.
“Does Tim know?” Samantha asked as we drew closer to the house.
“No,” I said. “But he does know we’re going to Apple’s for dinner as a family.”
“Oh.”
“We’re gonna see Daddy!” Brent squealed from the backseat as he informed his sister of their upcoming reunion.
“I hope we haven’t made a mistake,” Samantha said, low enough that the children couldn’t hear her.
“We haven’t,” I said, pulling into the driveway.
“Look, kids,” Samantha said from beside me. “Look at MeMa’s nativity in the front yard.”
The kids jumped out of the car as soon as we were parked in the driveway. “Let’s get you unpacked and settled before the others show up,” I said as I looked at the digital clock on my dashboard. “We’ve only got a few minutes, though. So, we’ll have to hurry.”
She nodded. “That’d be nice,” she said, grabbing for an overnight bag at her feet.
A few minutes later, with the kids watching television in the family room, Samantha and I stood in the darkness of the living room, breathing in rhythm, watching for the headlights of Tim’s car to come driving down the street. When they finally appeared, Samantha said, “Let me go out to meet him alone, okay, Mom?”
“Certainly,” I said. In the end, that was for the best. My stomach flip-flopped as I imagined the range of emotions Tim might experience at seeing his wife here.
I watched as she slipped out the front door and stood on the porch. I looked back to the car, where my son was stepping out slowly. For a moment, Tim and Samantha only stared at each other, then Samantha descended the steps and ran to her husband, who opened his arms wide. When they embraced, I bent my knees and leaped for joy.
“Yes!” I said.
I squeezed my fisted hands against my chest. “It’s a start, Lord,” I said. “It’s a start.”