Words Unspoken (42 page)
I need something. That’s for sure. I need something.
“I think you need something, Lissa.” He spoke softly. “I think you need Him.”
She jerked her head up. There he went, reading her mind again.
“Then please,” she said, “tell me how to find what I need.”
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 6
Thank goodness for Friday night, with Lin Su out with her girlfriends again. Ted held LeeAnne in his lap and watched her sucking at the bottle. At least he could satisfy his infant daughter. The involuntary shaking brought on by his jittery nerves probably helped lull her to sleep. Sammy was already cuddled in a ball in his bed, the guardrail waiting to protect him from his nighttime “bed dances,” as Lin Su called them.
Lin Su. How was he going to tell her?
Yesterday, Bob Turner, the office manager, had called him into his office and stared at him, grim-faced. Finally he had spoken. “Ted, we’ve had some shocking complaints from a client, Harold Kaufman. He claims his account has lost hundreds of thousands of dollars in unauthorized trading. We’re reviewing all of your accounts right now.”
Ted said nothing. He felt sweat pouring down his back.
Bob continued. “Dr. Kaufman’s secretary called yesterday and said that the good doctor had lost an astonishing amount of money. I sympathized with her and explained that many customers had suffered because of Black Monday. She said the doctor understood that, but there was a bigger problem.” He put on his glasses and picked up a paper from the desk. “The doctor has never endorsed option trading, but it’s been happening—right before Black Monday and continuing afterward. If you look at the doctor’s profile it says, ‘conservative, blue chip,’ not ‘speculative, high risk.’ ” Bob took off his glasses and looked up at Ted. “She said quite a bit more as well.”
Ted swallowed. He couldn’t get a single word out of his mouth.
“This is serious, Ted. You could go to jail, if you don’t get restitution.”
He nodded dumbly. Restitution. It meant going before the arbitration board. It meant being barred from the brokerage business for many years, with the firm having to pay off the client’s losses. He realized that he was clutching his hands together.
“Do you have anything to say, Ted?”
What could he say? The evidence was printed out in black and white.
“I think that I, um, I think that, um, I would like to um …” He shook his head. “Listen, Bob. Could I talk to Jerry Steinman? Could I talk to him?”
Jerry had agreed to meet him at the club on Saturday afternoon. There had to be a way out. Surely. What did people do in times like this? Pray? A scene from that bothersome novel came to him again.
Vasilica was just about to give up, but that cute little sister of his … what was her name … Tonia. Yes, Tonia kept insisting that they needed to pray. And Vasilica retorted something about not believing in prayer or God, and if there was a God, He definitely wasn’t on their side. But Tonia had insisted they should pray, that it couldn’t hurt to try.
With LeeAnne asleep on his shoulder, Ted closed his eyes and said the only words that came to his mind.
“Help, help, help, help, help. Please, somebody, help me.”
________
“Settle down, Ev.”
“You’re one to talk. You’ve been bustling around for hours.”
“They’ll be here any minute, and I want it to be nice for them.”
“The house looks great. Smells great too, with that roast in the oven. Now come and sit down with me.”
He took Annie’s hand, and together they walked out onto the porch. They sat down on the swing and bundled themselves in an old quilt, holding tightly to each other.
“Both of the girls here. And Gina too. It’s amazing, Annie. Can’t remember the last time both girls were here at the same time.”
“I can. Nine years ago. Brian and Janelle were back for a brief furlough because she was having complications with the pregnancy early on. They were here for three weeks, and Katy Lynn and Hamilton came to visit.”
“Ah, yes. It didn’t go so well, did it?”
“If I recall correctly, Katy Lynn called us superficial hypocrites and Janelle and Brian fanatics. Something like that.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Terrified. I want so badly for things to get better. I keep telling myself that Katy isn’t coming to vent her anger again, but I … I’m afraid she will.” She squeezed his hand. “You know me and my mouth. I need to keep it shut. Just let her talk, let all the girls talk.”
“Um-hmm.” He held her around the waist, pushing with his feet so that the swing swayed back and forth, lulling them, like a baby being rocked by his mother.
“What are you thinking, Ev?”
“Thinking about those verses in Isaiah where God calls His people trees of righteousness and says they will repair the ruined cities.”
Annie quoted: “ ‘And their seed shall be known among the Gentiles, and their offspring among the people: all that see them shall acknowledge them, that they are the seed which the Lord hath blessed.’ I hope so, Ev. I certainly hope so.”
The wind was chasing dry leaves to the ground, as was its habit in early November. And their habit was to sit there, holding each other in the chilly evening and reciting God’s promises. It had worked for all these years, consciously saying out loud the truth of Scripture to erase the insidious lies, the worries and doubts that were part of every season of life.
“ ‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’ ”
“Good old Isaiah,” Ev whispered, feeling a catch in his throat. “ ‘Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.’ ”
Annie took up again where he left off. “ ‘When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.’ ”
Ev felt his wife relax in his arms. He rested his head on hers and let his eyes wander to where Ole Bessie was parked in the circular dirt driveway. The old property had not changed much in nine years. Katy Lynn was sure to reproach them about that. Janelle would look for positive things, would be encouraging. But she was tired. And full of questions.
Ev rocked back and forth, thankful for the millionth time in his life that Annie was beside him, ready to walk through the deep waters by his side.
________
On Friday, Lissa worked the whole day. The pain was considerably less and the routine definitely necessary to help quiet all the voices.
Failure!
Hope!
All your fault!
Forgiveness.
Time is running out!
Life is not random.
Like a butterfly, her thoughts flitted from Caleb to Silvano to her father and finally landed on the strange conversation she’d had with the MacAllisters the night before. An omniscient God. That she could accept. But a personal God, a saving God, a God of grace? These were new concepts. Part of her wanted them to be true. But the pragmatic, Cartesian part of Lissa, the part of her that needed to be in control, knew they were not.
At three thirty she welcomed four girls to the library for their afterschool Latin tutorial. When Silvano came into the library at a little after six, Lissa was still talking to the students. They giggled when he gave her a kiss on the cheek, and Lissa felt her face turn crimson. The girls gathered their books and scurried out of the library.
“See ya later, girls. Good luck this weekend.”
“Thanks, Lissa,” they chorused.
“The first round of the Latin competition is tomorrow, in North Georgia,” she explained to Silvano. “They’re scared to death and excited at the same time. Brings back lots of memories.”
Silvano stood by the picture window at the far end of the library. “What a view! It’s almost as great as the one from your house. You’ve got the river, the mountains—in their amazing fall colors, no less. Nice place to work.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Lissa got her purse and locked up the library. “You made it here fast.”
“Anything for you, my dear,” he crooned in an exaggerated Italian accent.
She couldn’t help but smile. Then he put his hand on her good arm and smoothly guided her outside and across the spacious courtyard.
She found she didn’t mind, enjoying the smell of his aftershave and the momentary feeling of security.
“You look great.
Bella!
How’s the shoulder today?”
“There’s a lot less pain, so I imagine that’s good.”
“Ready for a drive?”
Was she ready to drive to Clover Leaf Stables and tell Caleb good-bye? Absolutely not. But she nodded and got into Silvano’s little sports car.
As he turned out of the school parking lot, she said, “Silvano, I really appreciate your coming. I, I don’t know what to say.”
“
Grazie
will do just fine.”
She went into Caleb’s stall, where the fresh shavings gave off their cedar smell, covering the stench of the manure pile out back. She put her right arm around the little gelding’s neck, rested her cheek on his warm, sleek coat, and breathed in the wonderful horse smell of sweat and dirt and life. Her life for so many years. Not for the first time, she wished Caleb could understand her.
“It’s all my fault, buddy. I ruined it. I’m so sorry.” She closed her eyes, letting memories of their jumping competitions float into her mind. Then she whispered, “But don’t think I’ve given up. I won’t give up. I’m still looking for a way out of this mess.”
Momma led the chestnut gelding into the paddock, and Lissa pulled herself easily into the saddle.
“Just start off nice and slow, Liss. They say he can be a handful—lots of jump in him.”
It was the day she had first ridden High Caliber, the day she, a budding princess at twelve and a half, had met her handsome prince. It had taken every ounce of her strength to hold the feisty little horse back between fences when she first jumped him.
“You made me work so hard. I loved that. We worked hard together.”
Caleb had carried her through adolescence, demanding so much of her energy that she didn’t have time for boys and parties and what her mother called “all kinds of mischief.”
She remembered her first horse show, his mane braided, the horse shying and her mother saying, “He’s dancing on pins and needles. You show him who’s boss, Liss.”
She had never really felt like the boss. Riding Caleb was teamwork, a perfect blending of horse and rider.
She remembered rising at five to prepare for the shows, having tumbled into bed at midnight after cleaning the tack. Hard work and tough competition.
The night that Caleb colicked, she’d walked him for four hours, yanking him up every time he tried to lie down and roll. If a colicking horse rolled, he would twist his intestines and die. Despite her mother’s pleas, Lissa had refused to go home, so her mother walked beside them. When Lissa was too exhausted to pull Caleb back up, she had laid her head on his heaving belly and bawled.
Don’t be stubborn, silly horse. If you give up and lie here, it’s just going to make everything worse. Please get up.
She covered him with blankets, rubbed him softly, and she and her mother coaxed him to his feet. The vet came at eight in the morning and found her asleep in the shavings in Caleb’s stall with the docile gelding standing beside her. Lissa had walked him out of the colic.
Your daughter is just about as feisty as this horse. They make a good pair.
“We still make a good pair, Caleb. I’m so sorry.”
She left his stall and found a stepladder propped against the wall.
Setting it up next to the gelding, she climbed it and carefully pulled herself onto his bare back. The horse stood still.
“We were so good, Caleb. So good. I thought maybe we could do it again.”
While Silvano drank coffee with Cammie somewhere in another part of the barn, Lissa whispered a prayer out loud.
“God, if you exist, I need you now. Right now. The MacAllisters said I have to accept your forgiveness and grace and allow you to be in control of my life. That’s a huge, huge thing for me, God. I can’t do it yet, but if it’s really you allowing these un-random circumstances, then show me and help me. Let me keep Caleb. Amen.”
________
“Well, here we are,” Janelle said as Katy Lynn pulled the car into the circular driveway.
It looked exactly the same. The same flowers in the yard, the same old blue Ford, red Buick, and white Impala parked off to the side, the same white house that needed painting. How she loved and missed this place!
Janelle thought of all the nights she had cuddled by her father on the porch swing, watching the stars and talking about life and faith and the future. Wonderful, comfortable memories. Happy memories.
Her mother hurried out of the house first. “Girls!”
She had aged a bit in the past two years, but she still wore her happy smile and the sparkling brown eyes that seemed ready for mischief. She had on loose-fitting jeans and a bright red sweat shirt. Her gray hair was cut in a way that became her. Dear Mother.