by Jack Weyland
I sighed. “I’ve started a journal—isn’t that enough?”
“They tell us no success can compensate for failure in the home. They say the most important of the Lord’s work we’ll ever do will be within the walls of our own home. So why don’t I stay home with Adam and make gingerbread cookies and have some children?”
“You’d make gingerbread cookies?” I wavered.
“Dozens and dozens.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Lara,” I moaned. “You’ve got what it takes to be a big success in business. I don’t want to deny you any opportunities. Are you sure you want to quit?”
“I’m sure.”
“Promise me one thing. If you do quit, promise me you’ll never worry about which brand of paper towel absorbs more spills.”
I promise. Is it a deal then?”
“Let me think about it.”
We couldn’t take looking at Adam’s messy face any longer, so we found a drinking fountain and cleaned him up, then took a little walk.
“Lara, I don’t need gingerbread cookies anymore. What I need is help with my business The computer business is one of the fastest growing industries in America, but I’m losing my shirt. You’re the genius at marketing. I need your help.”
She sighed. “You’ll never know how good that sounds to me.”
“Well, it’s true. Without you, what am I?”
“Let’s not find out,” she said. Then we enjoyed a long kiss.
“Gonna fly the plane again, huh?”
We broke apart to face the boy who used to help me launch my planes.
“Yes, we are,” I blushed.
He had his little calculator with him again.
“You still stay up late building model planes?” he asked.
“Not anymore. Now,” I stammered, “now I sleep at night.”
“And listen to the radio,” Lara teased. “What’s that?”
“Electronic football.”
We looked at it. It buzzed and whistled.
“You gonna crash this plane, too?” he asked.
“No, not this one.”
“I’ll be going then. See you around.”
We walked to the swings and gave Adam a ride. I had Lara stand in front of him and try to catch his toes.
We were a family now.
She asked me to pretend she was a customer and to try to sell her a computer. After ten minutes I quit and asked her impressions.
“The truth?” she asked.
“I guess so.”
“The part that wasn’t boring was intimidating.”
“It was?”
“Computers intimidate people.”
“That’s strange—I should’ve known. I understand intimidation.”
“And another thing. Did I actually hear you say ‘floppy-disk drive’?”
“It’s just a term computer people use.”
“Well, don’t use it around your customers. Sam, you have to make it fun. You talk about a computer for budgeting. That’s really boring. Can’t you sell something involving a computer that’s easy and fun? What about that boy with his electronic football? There must be some kind of computer in there, but he doesn’t care. He’s having fun.”
“Sure, there are computer games available. Once a person has computer, he can order the games. But first he has to buy a computer.”
“Why? How about leasing or renting them? And how about starting a computer game-of-the-month club? And why are you just concentrating on computers in the home? Why aren’t you marketing more to small businesses?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know!” I laughed “but I love your questions. Look, Lara, why don’t you quit your job and be my marketing consultant?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you—I am your consultant! It goes with the wedding license.”
“No extra cost?”
“None whatsoever.”
“What a bargain you are!” I shouted.
“I know it!” she laughed. “I’m fantastic, aren’t I! And I’m all yours!”
We held hands. Adam figured it was a signal to play ring-around-a-rosy, and so we did, the three of us giggling as we all fell down.
“Again,” Adam insisted, trying to pull us up again.
We played until he got bored and wandered back to the swing.
“So what about your job if you’re my consultant?” I asked.
“Sam, let me quit. Adam and I will think about computers while we’re making gingerbread cookies”
“Instead of being a consultant, I’m prepared to make you a full partner in the business. I’m sure my other partner would approve. In fact, this is probably what he’s been waiting for.”
“Who’s your other partner?” she asked.
“God.”
We strolled over to Adam. It felt good to have my arm around her waist.
“I won’t be able to pay you anything for a while,” I said, “but there are some interesting fringe benefits to the job,” I said, bringing her in close to me.
“I’ll take the job,” she smiled.
Later that day we went to the library. She picked up a book dealing with model planes and another about computers. I checked out one that taught how to listen and communicate.
Two days later for our family home evening, with Lara quoting sections she’d memorized, we both learned to do the loop-the-loop without crashing.
* * * * *
This is how the week went after Lara quit her job.
Monday. When I walked into our apartment after work, there was the delicious smell of gingerbread cookies. Adam sat at the kitchen table, flour on his nose, eating the arms off a gingerbread man. I kissed Lara and she gave me a cookie.
After supper, we played ring-around-a-rosy and Lara told a flannelboard story for family home evening.
Tuesday. At home after work, I conferred with my business partner. During the day she had phoned several stores in California and talked to their managers. She had also had an afternoon meeting with a banker to see how feasible it would be to lease computers with part of the customer’s payment going toward purchase. And she had written down some ideas for a nationwide computer game-of-the-month club.
Wednesday. I met my public relations and marketing agent. She had set up some presentations for me to give to some local service clubs.
Thursday. This was her day, and she’d spent it riding horses with a friend. She walked bow-legged all night.
Friday. When I walked into the apartment, she met me with incense and wearing a Japanese kimono. Adam was conveniently having supper with his grandparents. She gave me a pair of Oriental-style pajamas to put on.
“What for?” I asked, still off-balance.
“I think it’s important for us to learn about other cultures, don’t you?” she said, giving me a sly grin.
Two hours later we had supper on the floor around our coffee table. I had trouble with my chopsticks and kept dropping rice.
“Happy?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” I said softly. “The sukiyaki was terrific. Everything was terrific.”
“Next week we’ll learn about Hawaii,” she said. “That is, if I can borrow a grass skirt from someone and can learn to make sweet-and-sour pork by then.”
I reached across the table to hold her hand. “I need to tell you something. The past few weeks I’ve felt like a tiny leaking life raft in the middle of a big ocean during a storm. But then you came along and somehow you renewed me, and now I’m ready to face the storm again. I just want to say thanks.”
She threw me a coy Oriental look, silently gave me a homemade fortune cookie. The promise made in it was also homemade and soon fulfilled.
Chapter Fifteen
It was November. Over the past few months we had worked as partners. The business had done well enough that we could afford a little vacation to California, mainly for Adam and me to see Disneyland.
We sat on a park bench overlooking the ocean and watched Adam climb a jungle gym.<
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It was late afternoon and the sun was floating in oranges and reds on the water. When I checked my wallet to see how our money was holding out, I saw the picture of Charly.
“It moved again,” Lara said excitedly.
I reached down and touched her melon-sized tummy. Somebody’s knee lightly bumped my hand.
“Terrific,” I smiled. “He kicks like a boy.”
“She’s a ballet dancer,” she countered with a smile.
Pulling the picture from my wallet, I gave it to Lara. “Keep this for me, okay?”
She looked at the picture. “She was wonderful for you, wasn’t she?”
“She was very good for me.”
“And you’ll always love her more than me, won’t you.”
I had thought about it before, knowing sometime she’d ask.
“Look at the sunset—isn’t it beautiful?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s okay if you don’t answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m not avoiding the question. Which of all the sunsets you’ve ever seen do you love the most?”
“The first one?” she answered, anticipating the worst.
“I don’t think so. Every time we see a sunset our appreciation is built on the ones we’ve already experienced. The older I get, the more amazed I am that a miracle like a sunset still exists. And that’s the way I feel about my love for you.”
Overhead a plane etched its vanishing trail across the sky.
“Lara, I guess it’s not surprising I remarried, but what surprises me is how much I love you. It’s a miracle you came along.”
She snuggled closer to me.
We watched the evening sky until it was dark, then the three of us walked back to our motel room.
* * * * *