Age Before Beauty

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Age Before Beauty Page 21

by Virginia Smith


  “No hitting.” Joan pulled a yellow box of sweetener off the top shelf of the pantry and set it on the counter. “Besides, Allie, you have no one to blame but yourself. The minute you found out you were pregnant, you ate everything in sight.” She smiled to soften her words. “You’re not as big as you seem to think you are. You could drop that extra baby weight if you wanted to. What about that gym membership Eric gave you? Have you checked it out?”

  “Yeah. It’s a pretty swanky place, but I don’t know. All that fancy equipment scares me, and I don’t want to take aerobics.” Allie shuddered. “Besides, what would I do with Joanie while I worked out?”

  Joan snapped her fingers. “Oh, I meant to tell you. One of the girls in my Sunday school class works in the daycare out there. You remember Sara, don’t you? She’s so sweet, and she loves babies.”

  “Really?” Allie looked down at her baby. If Joan knew someone who worked in the nursery . . . “They do have a pool and a walking track.”

  “Perfect.” Joan scooped raw oatmeal into three bowls. “I wouldn’t mind joining a gym, especially during the winter. I’ll go with you a few mornings a week to help you get into the routine.”

  Allie shifted Joanie to the other arm. Her heart felt tender this morning after her middle-of-the-night . . . encounter? She didn’t know what to call it, but when she’d awakened, the peace she felt in the night still lingered. She’d been half afraid to go to sleep, afraid that she’d wake up and find the stress of all her problems pressing down on her again. But her first conscious thought before she even opened her eyes had been, Good morning, God! I’m so glad you’re in control. Her mood was lighter than it had been in . . . well, forever.

  Joan’s offer to go with her to the gym struck her as particularly touching, and she battled a wave of tears. Joan walked with Ken every morning, so coming to the gym with her meant her sister was willing to sacrifice time with her boyfriend. She waited until she was sure the catch in her throat wouldn’t sound in her voice. “You’d do that for me?”

  Joan turned a look of surprise her way. “Of course I would. You’re my sister.”

  Allie lowered her gaze to her nursing baby. Was this the answer to one of her problems, dropped right in her lap? Was Joan’s offer God’s way of taking care of one thing that made his precious little girl unhappy?

  She gulped, and couldn’t look up until she got a firm grip on her emotions. This feeling, this awareness of her heavenly Father’s presence, was still too new. She didn’t want to talk about it, because what if admitting it aloud made it go away?

  So instead she just said, “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  Tori added water to one of the bowls and set it in the microwave. The beep-beep-beep as she punched the buttons sounded loud in the kitchen where the only other sound was Joanie’s soft murmur while she nursed. Joan refilled her coffee mug and brought the carafe to the table to warm up Allie’s. Joan yawned as she poured, and Allie did too. She’d only gotten a couple of hours’ sleep after her middle-of-the-night encounter before Joanie woke them all for her 6:00 a.m. feeding.

  “So what’s the plan this morning?” Tori asked as she stirred water into the second bowl of dry oats.

  “I’m going to run over and pick up Gram around eight so she can start Sunday dinner.” Joan switched her gaze to Allie. “Are you staying here while we go to church, or are you going to go home and come back for dinner with Eric and Betty?”

  Allie looked down. “Actually, I thought I might go with you this morning.”

  Joan’s jaw dropped, and Tori stopped stirring to stare at her.

  “Really?” Joan asked.

  Allie nodded. “Except all I brought to wear today is a pair of tan slacks and a shirt that isn’t very dressy.” She bit her lip. “I could go home and get some nicer clothes, but . . .”

  She really didn’t want to face Eric with the news that she wanted to go to church. He’d let her, of course, but she knew how he felt, and why. He’d require an explanation, and at the moment she didn’t know if she could articulate how she felt. All she knew was that she wanted to go.

  If Joan saw the struggle in her face, she didn’t mention it. “That’ll be fine. I’ll wear slacks too, and we can dress up your top with jewelry. Tori can wear slacks too.”

  Tori’s lower lip pouted. “I didn’t bring slacks. I brought an absolutely darling wool skirt I got last week that I wanted to show off.”

  “Slacks.” Joan’s tone refused to tolerate any argument on the subject. “I’m sure you can find something in the ton of clothes you have stored in the upstairs closet.”

  Tori heaved a loud sigh. “You guys are just as bossy now as you were when we were kids.”

  At eleven o’clock Allie sat between her sisters in the sanctuary of Christ Community Church. The strong floral scent of Mrs. Caldwell’s perfume lingered on Allie’s skin, applied by the enthusiastic hug the elderly lady had given her when she placed Joanie in her care in the nursery. Or maybe it was from one of the other many hugs of welcome she’d received. A glance around the sanctuary showed so many familiar faces, so many delighted smiles of recognition. Gram sat on the other side of Joan, her gaze fixed on her hymnal. At least her lips were no longer clamped together in disapproval at her granddaughters’ choice of clothing. Allie wondered if Gram had noticed, as she did, that many of the women in the congregation wore slacks, even some of the seniors. Allie had glimpsed a couple of teenagers in jeans, something that would never have happened when she attended this church during her high school years.

  Deep, rich music filled the sanctuary as the organist began the prelude. In response, unexpected tears prickled Allie’s eyes. It had been so long since she’d heard the sound of an organ. The music brought with it the sense of holiness she remembered feeling as a little girl. I’ve come home, she thought. Like a prodigal. More tears threatened, and she fought against them. She would not cry here.

  The choir filed into the loft from a side door at the front of the sanctuary. Allie searched each face as they stepped through the doorway. Some were familiar, some new. Mom led the second row. When she got to her place, light glinted off the lenses of her glasses as her gaze searched the congregation. A smile lit her face when she caught sight of them.

  Movement in the aisle caught Allie’s attention, and she turned her head to watch Reverend Jacobsen make his way down the center aisle toward the pulpit. The same aisle Allie had walked down during her wedding. Only then Eric had been here, waiting at the front, his face radiant with love.

  Allie shut her eyes against a wave of angst. What should she do about Eric? Ask him to transfer back to second shift so he wasn’t alone with Molly every day? Let Betty watch Joanie at night while she did Varie Cose parties? But Betty needed to return home to Don, Allie knew that. So she’d have to hire a babysitter, and if she was going to do that, she might as well go back to her state job.

  Her stomach muscles tightened as familiar worries threatened her newfound peace.

  God, can you really handle this? Because I know I can’t.

  Her worries took wing and fluttered away as she remembered the unspoken promise of last night. Safe and secure.

  Reverend Jacobsen reached his seat at the front of the sanctuary as the organist finished the prelude with a powerful musical flourish that vibrated Allie’s heart in her rib cage. The choir director stepped up to the altar, his arms held wide as he invited the congregation to stand.

  Allie got to her feet along with everyone else as the strains of the first hymn filled the sanctuary. Joan handed her a hymnal already opened to the right page. When Allie looked down at the title, chills rose on her arm. The awe from the dimly lit kitchen last night returned as the familiar tune the organ played registered in her mind.

  Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.

  There was no holding back her tears.

  Allie winced as Eric followed her into their bedroom and slammed the door. During Sunday dinner Joan had unwittingly broken the news that
she’d gone to church with the rest of the family. All afternoon Allie had sensed Eric’s growing anger as they worked in the yard at Gram’s house, getting the last of the leaves raked up and the rosebushes ready for winter. He had barely spoken two words to her.

  She planted her back against the desk chair and faced him. The fury in his eyes snapped at her across the room. She was glad she’d placed the bed between them.

  “I can’t believe you took Joanie to church without asking me.”

  Anger flickered in the back of her skull at his word choice. “Without asking you? Are you saying I have to beg your permission to go to church?”

  “If you want to take my daughter, yes.”

  The serenity she’d found at church left her in a rush that stiffened her spine. The day she begged permission to do anything, like she was some sort of servant, would be the day she walked out of here. She drew an outraged breath to tell him so when he raised a hand, fingers splayed, and clarified his point. “Not begged me, but you should have talked to me first. We’ve discussed this. I thought we were in agreement that we’d wait until she was old enough to make her own decision about religion.”

  Calm down. I knew he’d be upset. With an effort, Allie bit back another angry retort and forced a measure of calm into her voice. “You’re right, Eric. I should have called you this morning. But I knew this would happen,” she gestured between them, “and I didn’t want to start the day off with an argument. Besides, she just spent an hour in the nursery, that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” His hands clenched into fists at his side. “You left our helpless child in the care of a complete stranger. Who knows what could have happened to her there?”

  “That’s not true. I’ve known Mrs. Caldwell my entire life. Her grandson graduated from high school in my class. Joanie was perfectly safe.”

  She met his glare with one of her own. The sight of his jaw bunching sent an unexpected shot of compassion through Allie. Poor Eric. Because of the incident with that pervert, he really was afraid for Joanie when it came to church. She should have realized how angry he would be. She’d been so focused on herself and her new awareness of God’s love that she had not given a thought to her husband’s feelings.

  “Eric, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have called you this morning. But last night I . . .” She stared at the multicolored pattern of lines and squiggles marching across the comforter and tried to gather her thoughts. How to explain what happened last night? The peace she’d felt, the certainty that she could rest in the arms of her heavenly Father and trust him to take care of her? She swallowed and started again. “I realized something last night. I hate selling Varie Cose.”

  That was so not what she intended to say.

  A scowl wrinkled Eric’s upper lip. “What?”

  Allie rushed on, her frantic thoughts becoming a torrent of words. “I hate it, but I have to keep going because I owe too much for all this.” She waved at the boxes lining the shelves. “And we need to figure out a way to get your mom to go back home, but that means I’ll have to find a babysitter. And I’m worried about us too, you and me.”

  He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. No wonder. She was making a mess of this. She clamped her mouth shut and whispered a frantic prayer. Now would be a good time to give me a hand here.

  “Let me get this straight.” Eric’s effort to keep calm showed in his tense shoulders. “You went to a sleepover with your sisters, and now you’ve decided you hate your job and you want to kick my mother out of our house, so you have to go to church to set things right?”

  Mockery laced his tone. She steeled herself against voicing an angry retort. “No, that’s not it. Church doesn’t set things right, God does.” She clamped her jaws shut and shook her head. “I’m not explaining this well.”

  “No, you’re not.” Eric’s stare hardened. “Back up a minute. You owe too much to quit? How much do you owe?”

  She gulped. Now’s when things would get nasty. She really didn’t want to tell him about the credit card, not when he was already so mad. But things were tumbling out into the open now, and she didn’t see any way to stuff them back under wraps. Unable to meet his gaze, she turned her back on him and rummaged in the stack of folders on the desk for the credit card statement she’d printed out yesterday. Wordlessly, she held it toward him.

  He reached across the bed and took it. When his eyes moved to the bottom of the page, they widened. “Allie! How could you do this so quickly?”

  Tears flooded her eyes. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

  “Debt like this doesn’t just happen.” He stopped. Silence hung heavily between them for what seemed like hours before he went on. “Okay, we can deal with this. Just cut up the card before you do any more damage. Call that woman who roped you into this scheme and tell her you quit.”

  “I can’t just quit. I’ve got over two thousand dollars in inventory I have to sell.”

  “Return it. They’ll probably charge you a restocking fee or something, but that’ll be better than owing thousands. You can stay home with Joanie and I’ll work out a budget that—”

  “No!” Panic rose up in Allie’s throat. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t let Eric fix things. She’d be more dependent on him than ever. She was supposed to depend on God, not Eric. “I can handle it. I’ll get it paid off. Just a few more parties and I’m sure I can turn things around.”

  “What if you can’t?” Eric peered at her with an intensity that made her want to look away, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. “Why don’t you want my help, Allie?”

  “Because I have to make it on my own in case . . .” The gulp of air shuddered on the way into her lungs. She swallowed. “In case you leave me.”

  There. Her deepest fear was out in the open. Now would be when he was supposed to come around the bed, take her in his arms, and assure her of his undying love.

  The silence deepened between them. Eric stood motionless, staring at her with eyes as deeply sad as his mother’s. Allie waited for his words of reassurance, his promise that he would never leave her. Horror choked her like a fast-growing vine. They did not come.

  Instead, Eric shook his head slowly. “I thought I knew you. But I’m married to a stranger.”

  He tossed the credit card bill toward her, turned on his heel, and left the room. The paper fluttered to the mattress.

  Allie stared at the door, her mind numb. Was this God’s idea of taking care of things? She’d come clean to Eric, opened herself up. And she’d lost him. Was this God’s answer?

  She sank to the bed. No. She didn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe it. She was God’s precious child, and he loved her. He didn’t want her to lose her husband.

  A new thought snaked into her mind. But maybe he wanted her to trust her husband. Maybe that was part of the answer he was trying to provide.

  A sob rode a wave of panic from deep inside and lodged in her throat.

  Lord, I can’t do that! What if he leaves me, like Daddy did, then where will I be? I need your help!

  23

  Eric jumped into the pickup and jammed the key savagely into the ignition. The instant the engine roared to life, he shoved the shifter into first and sped out of the driveway. The house receded in the rearview mirror. When he turned the corner and lost sight of it, he blew out a breath. He’d left all the women in his life—and all the problems—in that house. He navigated the truck out of the neighborhood and turned onto the bypass. The minute he left the Danville city limits, he stomped on the accelerator and headed into the country. The sun dipped low on the horizon to his right, a big orange ball that shed little light and no warmth.

  What had happened to Allie? Everybody said becoming a mother changed a woman. He never really believed it. Oh sure, little changes here and there. They got more protective, maybe. More homey. But Allie had undergone a total personality transplant.

  She didn’t trust him. Anger gnawed at his gut. He had never done a th
ing to make her think him untrustworthy. Not in any area. He’d supported her in everything she ever wanted. He stepped up as the man of her family when her grandfather died, before they were even married. He’d maintained her sisters’ cars, dug her grandmother’s flower beds, even unstopped their toilets and fixed their leaky roof. When Allie wanted to quit her job and do this crazy makeup sales stuff, he’d supported her decision 100 percent. He had not looked at another woman since the day he first laid eyes on her. And still, she didn’t trust him.

  Maybe he’d never go back. Yeah, that’s it. Just hit the road and disappear. That’s what Allie apparently thought he’d do anyway. Call it quits, like Mother and Dad seemed prepared to do. If they could walk away from thirty-five years of marriage, five should be no big deal.

  The old days, the pre-Allie days, loomed like a sweet dream in his mind as the town receded in the distance. College buddies partying late into the night at that house they’d rented and then dragging themselves to class the next morning. Walking in a pack to the stadium for the home games, whooping and hollering down Alumni Drive until the cops chased them out of the road and onto the sidewalk so traffic could get by. Calling to the women they passed, trying to catch their eyes and maybe hook up for the night.

  And he hooked up plenty. Women always liked him, picked him out in the crowd, much to the disgust of his roommates. If he wanted a date with a woman, he always got it. Probably still could, if he wanted.

  Like Molly.

  His foot lifted slowly off the pedal, and the truck ceased its mad dash forward. Okay, truth time now. Alone in the swiftly darkening cab of his truck, he could be honest with himself. Molly was available, had been for some time. He’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice the looks she gave him, the unspoken invitations. She was not a bad-looking woman, either. Six years ago, before he met Allie, he’d have accepted one of those invitations without a second thought. Not anymore.

 

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