by Sally John
They stuffed themselves with cookies and talked about Kenzie’s pregnancy, due date, and work as a barista at a funky coffee shop. They steered clear of the Carluccis, Aidan, Drake, medical insurance, and marriage.
The afternoon shadows lengthened in the beach house and Susan grew anxious that Kenzie would leave soon. Her daughter remained tentative, as if unsure of the situation. Susan could hardly blame her. There her mother sat beside her on the couch, on vacation without her dad, speaking more openly than she ever had in Kenzie’s entire life.
But Susan knew there would be no healing until they addressed issues that still separated them. She jumped in.
“I like Pepper Carlucci a lot.”
Kenzie bobbed her head. “She’s fresh, isn’t she? All of them are like that. They all say exactly what they’re thinking. Mick is a great guy. It’s so obvious he and Pepper are totally crazy about each other.”
Envy crept in, a worm chewing at the newfound peace. Why weren’t she and Drake like that? Had they never been like that? She didn’t think so.
“There’s always lots of commotion at their house. Lots of laughter.”
That summarized the exact opposite of what Kenzie experienced growing up. No wonder she was enamored with the family.
Susan said, “What’s Aidan like?”
“Passionate about music, about creating it.”
“Like you.”
She shook her head. “He’s way beyond me. He writes it and it absolutely consumes him at times. He needs his space. And that’s okay.”
Susan wondered.
“I just do my own thing when he’s in the zone. He’s thoughtful like his dad. Romantic with little gifts.” She shrugged. “It’s kind of weird telling you this stuff.”
She smiled. “It’s kind of weird hearing it. Do you talk about getting married?”
Kenzie glanced away, her chin rising slightly in the movement.
Drake’s did the same when he got defensive. “Hon, I’m not pressing. I’m just curious about what you’re thinking.”
“We consider ourselves already married. Why should a piece of paper make a difference? Or a ceremony in a church? Of course, that’s not going to happen anyway, not in your church.”
The charge sliced through Susan, cutting off her breath. “If your dad changed his mind…”
“Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen in this millennium. Ninety-nine percent of his sermons sooner or later get around to moralizing about how wicked and nasty sex is.”
“That’s not exactly—”
“It is, Mom. It is exactly what he preaches and how often. Why can’t you see that? How he really is?”
“He just wants the best for you.”
“Well, I found the best. I love Aidan. He loves me. We’re committed to each other. And sex is not wicked. It’s the most beautiful, holy, amazing thing.”
“In marriage.”
“Is it in yours? Has it ever been?”
“Kenzie—”
“Forget I asked that. I don’t really want to know. But it makes a marriage, Mom. The two become one and then they’re married.”
Susan tried to focus. Why had she brought up marriage? That was what set Kenzie off. That was the main issue with Drake, and she was so hurt by her dad, she exaggerated everything about him and saw only the negative.
Kenzie said, “Never mind. You can’t understand.”
“What does Aidan have against marriage?”
She hesitated. “Nothing.”
“His parents have a healthy one, right?”
“Yeah. It’s not that. It’s just we don’t see any reason to have someone pronounce us husband and wife when we already are.”
Was it Kenzie and Aidan who thought that, or just Kenzie? Was Kenzie so afraid of marriage because of what she saw in her parents’ relationship?
“Honey, what have you seen in me and your father that turns you so against marriage?”
Kenzie nearly flew from the couch. She whirled around and raised her hands. “This! This, what you’re doing right now. You’re aping Dad like you don’t have an original thought in your head! You kowtow to him like he walks on water. You’re like that old TV wife June Cleaver, all cardboardy, saying her lines sweetly, never ruffled, never real.”
“That’s not fair or accurate.”
“You’re always defending him. You’re never on my side.”
Susan’s entire body ached. “I’m here now.”
“I don’t want to wait nineteen years to be here now for my kid.” She pressed fists to her eyes and walked toward the door. “I knew it would get to this. We’ll never agree and you won’t accept me as I am.”
Every fiber of Susan’s being cried out in agony. She caught up with her at the door. “I just want the best for you, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I have to go.” Kenzie pulled the money from her pocket.
“Keep that. I said no strings. You don’t have to get married to use it.”
“Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
“Let me hug you.”
She stood still long enough for Susan to wrap her arms around her and give a quick squeeze.
And then she was gone.
Susan wanted to curl up in a fetal position.
Twenty-Seven
“I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Natalie watched Susan slumped in the opposite chair, Pugsy snoring on her lap.
Her sister-in-law’s forehead knotted, one lump above each eyebrow. She wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, Suze, I’ll rephrase that. I’ve never had a pregnant unwed daughter who called me June Cleaver, so I can’t possibly know how you’re feeling.”
Susan gave a slight nod.
“Maybe a string of pearls would help.”
Susan gazed out the window. The knots on her forehead were nearly golf ball size.
At least she had called. Natalie couldn’t believe her sister-in-law had actually swallowed her pride and uttered that one life-changing word, “Help.” Hearing it made Natalie weep. God had moved a mountain. He didn’t need her to keep pushing at it.
Rex, bless him, said his macho wife driving to the beach alone at night in a weepy state was not a good idea. Besides that, he loved his sister-in-law. He invited himself along and gave their teenage sons a choice: They could either eat at a favorite restaurant with Mom and Dad and Aunt Susan or fix their own dinner. The three of them waited now at the place not far down the boardwalk, probably inhaling large amounts of tortilla chips and salsa.
“Suze, listen.” Natalie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “This dialogue with Kenzie was a good thing. It means advancement. It’s like you’ve moved the forwards deep into the opponents’ territory. Not that the Carluccis are opponents, but you get the picture.”
“You’re talking about soccer.”
“Yeah.”
“Kenzie’s right, then. She thinks we’re on opposite teams. She said I never take her side. I don’t want to take sides at all, not hers or Drake’s.”
“Okay, forget that analogy.”
“We should be on the same team.”
“I know.”
“They both could be here right now. Drake isn’t doing the service tonight; he doesn’t have to be anywhere in the morning. Kenzie’s not working now or in the morning. We all like being at the beach house. Why am I here by myself?”
“Think of it as if they were traded to other teams for the season. They were offered what looked like a better deal elsewhere. They’ll find their way back. You are a team.”
Susan looked at her.
“I’m just the rookie called up for a while.”
“No, you’re my team, Natalie. There’s no one else.”
“Of course there is. There’s a whole slew of rookies waiting.”
“The Martha Mavens.”
She nodded. “It’s time, hon.”
“I don’t know.” Susan sighed loudly. “Kenzie’s right. I’m just not a team player.”
Natalie swu
ng toward the window and tried not to roll her eyes in vexation. Lord! She turned back. “You’ve just never played in the big league. And you’ve definitely never played goalie.”
“Goalie?”
“You’re protecting the goal, your family. You think you’re all alone back there at the end of the field, but you’ve got all of us out in front, protecting you. And we are good. We are not going to let the opponent get anywhere near you.”
“Who’s the opponent?”
“Don’t be so literal. I don’t know. Whatever keeps your family from being a team. Anyway, you are the Martha Mavens’ main concern right now. Our defensive line is in place. Or it will be as soon as I call Gwyn and Mildred.”
The forehead knots flattened out, and Susan smiled. “I just had a picture of Gwyn in shin guards.”
Natalie laughed. “Gwyn, cover girl material at thirty-seven, in shin guards? Maybe I’d better leave out the soccer talk.”
“Maybe.” She paused. “You think I can really be part of a team?”
“Yes, Susan, I know you can. Now let’s go eat!”
Twenty-Eight
The white-haired twins, Mildred and Leona, insisted on cooking breakfast for everyone. They bobbed around the beach house kitchen like windup toys.
“Everyone” included Gwyn, busy now with tea preparations, and Emmylou, who set the table, waddling between it and the cupboards. She carried plates on the shelf of her rather large, rounded eight-and-a-half months abdomen.
Susan tightened the belt of her bathrobe and watched them. Talk about forgetting the morning routine. When the women had knocked on her door moments ago, she was still half asleep. The sun had barely risen, and yet there they stood, bright eyed and bushy tailed, jabbering about how great the commuter lane was in rush hour traffic.
“Good morning, sunshine!” they’d said and bustled inside, a group of magpies.
“Natalie called.”
“Need we say more?”
“She’ll come later.”
“Tess has appointments and simply can’t get away, even for breakfast.”
“Are there eggs? We brought bacon and ingredients to make blueberry scones and forgot the eggs!”
“How about juice?”
“Emmylou is having labor pains.”
“No. Ooo. Ow.” Emmylou puffed out words between breaths. “It’s just those Braxton Hicks things.”
“Same difference. One of these times they’ll be for real.”
“Pugsy wants out. I’ll take him.”
“Shoo, Susan. Go do what you need to do. Shower, whatever. We know our way around a kitchen.”
What had her sister-in-law told them about her this time? True, Susan asked Natalie for help. Kenzie’s visit had drained her. And then there was that sweet dinner with Rex and the boys. They made her laugh and they didn’t avoid the subject of Kenzie’s situation. Their company convinced her she needed others; she needed friends and prayers. She told Natalie it was all right with her if she let the Martha Mavens know she was hurting.
Evidently Natalie had not wasted any time.
Would the women have come if she were in her own house? They’d never done anything remotely similar to what they were doing at the moment. After her hysterectomy, they used Natalie like a UPS man, giving her gifts and food to deliver. Susan had felt that was proper. Others could have their open door policies when they were out of commission, but she wouldn’t want them laundering her underwear and seeing her kitchen up close.
Was it the beach house that gave them permission to invade her life?
Or was it the beach house that gave her permission to let them?
“Susan.”
She refocused.
Leona addressed her. “I said, shoo. Can we get you anything?”
“Um, well, I’d like a cup of coffee.”
Four pairs of eyes zoomed in on her.
No doubt about it. The pastor’s wife lived under a microscope. They all knew she didn’t touch coffee, hadn’t for years. Every coffee hour between services, every wedding reception and funeral lunch and whatnot celebration included a large pot of herbal tea made especially for Pastor Drake and the Mrs.
It couldn’t be helped. If they viewed her through a microscope, sooner or later they would notice the damage. Surely pain would etch itself into wrinkles, lackluster expressions, sagging shoulders. They might imagine all sorts of horrid scenarios. She might as well tell them the correct one.
She straightened shoulders already in an unmistakably droopy condition. “Yes, I really would like a cup of coffee with milk and sugar. And by the way, Kenzie is pregnant and she doesn’t want to get married. I’m going to take a shower now.”
The shower was a long one.
Susan remembered Natalie’s suggestion that she imagine God with her, right there and then, cheering her on. You go, girl. You have My permission to…
To what?
Tears mingled with the hot water.
Permission to cry?
Permission to hurt over Kenzie and Drake?
Permission to receive the love of friends, the love of God through them?
You go, girl.
And she knew then—in that deep heart of hearts where things were known without benefit of the mind’s explanation—her world would never ever be the same again.
They lingered at the table, no one moving to clear the breakfast dishes.
Mary tendencies had definitely shoved Martha’s to a back burner.
Mildred, Leona, Gwyn, and Emmylou listened to Susan talk about Kenzie. She stopped short of the New Year’s Day story, how she and Drake had sent her from the house.
The women sympathized and they empathized.
Leona said, “My granddaughter is living with her boyfriend.”
Mildred said, “My grandson isn’t married to the mother of his two children.”
Emmylou said, “Robbie and I, were, uh, you know, together before we got married. Before we got saved. Is it all right if I tell you that?”
Gwyn patted her arm. “What’s-his-name and I more or less lived together for six months before we got married and that was after I got saved. You know what?” She sighed. “It feels good to finally say that to you all. I never could admit it for fear you’d condemn me. I remember hiding his toothbrush and shoes once when Tess came over for something. It wasn’t until after our divorce that I admitted I never felt quite right about our premarital ways.” She smiled sadly. “It took me ages to even tell you we were divorcing.”
Mildred said, “Leona and I also have divorced children. We have grandchildren involved in alcohol, drugs, school failure, jail time, abortion, and the occult. Did I forget anything, dearie?”
Leona said, “One of my sons is having an affair.”
Emmylou said, “My father is an alcoholic.”
Gwyn said, “My sister is gay.”
Susan could only stare at them.
Leona grinned. “The skeletons are fairly jumping out of the closets, aren’t they? I think I hear bones clattering across the floor!”
Mildred chuckled. “See, Susan? You’re not alone. We understand. And just because you are the pastor’s wife does not mean your world is untouched by pain and difficulty and sin. God’s forgiveness and mercy cover it all—if we let them.”
Leona added, “We are your sisters and we don’t condemn you or Kenzie or Drake. We never did expect you to be completely healed of all your life’s wounds. That won’t happen for any of us until we leave this world.”
Everyone sat in silence for a long moment. They exchanged dazed looks. Slowly and quietly those mellowed into ones of affirmation.
At last Mildred smiled. “There is healing in dialogue. Leona and I have our own prayer group, you know, all of us old fogies. We don’t like to bother you young’uns with our troubles. Leona, dear.” She turned to her twin. “Could that be a form of pride?”
“I do believe that’s a possibility, sis. Though we have always sent our requests along the prayer cha
in without reservation.”
Gwyn shivered in an exaggerated way. “Natalie and I refer to the prayer chain as the gossip chain. I know it’s a wonderful way to share emergency situations, like when Rex was in his accident. But my goodness! There are something like fifty names on that list. I don’t open up all that well with you ladies. No way could I tell this deeply personal kind of stuff to people who are virtual strangers to me.”
“Me neither,” said Emmylou.
Leona shook her head. “Of course not. But something is happening here. I think you three—and probably Natalie too—have each other to confide in. You have your own prayer chain.”
“So, Susan.” Mildred homed in on her with those doe eyes enlarged behind thick lenses. “Where are we? What shall we pray for, exactly? The baby, of course, that precious new life growing in His sight. Kenzie and Aidan, that they will seek God in all this. You and Drake, that guilt and embarrassment won’t disable you.”
Susan nodded. “Mmm.” She cleared her throat. “That about does it. Um…Drake…um.” Did all this openness include telling on her husband?
But without Drake beside her, she felt like a one-armed lumberjack. Was it telling on him so much as asking for help for herself? One thing she knew for sure: She needed all the help she could get.
She said, “I don’t mean to disrespect him, but, well, he banned Kenzie from our home.”
All four pairs of eyes widened.
“Out of love for her. We—He believes if left to suffer the consequences, she will return to God.”
Mildred leaned forward, interrupting. “Has she turned away?”
The question stopped Susan’s thoughts cold.
“What I mean is, has she denounced her heavenly Father? Is that what the premarital relations and the decision not to marry are based on? Disbelief?”
Susan covered her mouth with her hand.
“She and I used to chat now and then.” Mildred winked. “I’d compliment her on a new hairdo or pair of earrings. We discussed her music a lot. One time she said, ‘Millie—’”
They all laughed.
“She called me that. Anyway, she said, ‘Millie, it’s like coloring books. I never could stay inside those idiotic lines with my crayons. My brain kept seeing other pictures and I’d color those instead. Music is like that. We sing a chorus in church, and the whole time I’m rewording it.’ Then she kind of swung her arms and snapped her fingers.” Mildred demonstrated. “She said, ‘And my body is moving to some other beat.’”