Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series

by Paula Wiseman

  “Afraid of my mom?”

  Bobbi raised her eyes long enough to nod. “Donna, Donna Shannon told me it was because I’d never forgiven her for the affair. I was sure she didn’t want it, and wasn’t convinced she deserved it.”

  “But you did it.” No trace of recrimination in his voice, he was encouraging her.

  “The morning you were baptized, that’s when I talked to her.”

  “And she was dead the next week,” Jack said quietly. “Do you think it made a difference to her?”

  “Who knows? Your mother was so guarded. She wouldn’t let anyone get close to her, and she wouldn’t open up to anybody. She was the most tragic person I have ever known. There was help and healing all around her, but she completely rejected it.”

  His silence convicted her. She’d overstepped. Mercifully, he changed the subject. “Dad said you were gonna retire.”

  “I turned the paperwork in a couple of weeks ago. They’ll approve it at the next board meeting.” Don’t try to explain it or justify it. Leave it there.

  “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I haven’t told Dad yet, but I’m not sure about going back to school this fall.”

  At last. What he really wanted to talk about. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I don’t even know if religion is the right major anymore.”

  “Because Brad’s gone?”

  He nodded. “I was going to follow him and work at the mission. I had it all mapped out.”

  She had to give him something to go on, something to work toward. “Sweetheart, why don’t you ask Brad?”

  “What?”

  “You have his notebooks and his Bible. He wrestled with going to law school or seminary. Maybe he wrote down the process, or something that crystallized it all for him. Maybe that will help you.”

  Jack leaned back and grinned, the twinkle returned to his eyes. “Mom, you are brilliant.”

  * * *

  Friday, July 11

  Bobbi sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. The morning paper lay beside the placemat, still unread. When Chuck came in a moment later, he smiled at her, then poured himself a cup of her coffee. That meant he had some proposition he expected her to go along with. He wanted her to see they were on the same team. They were drinking the same coffee after all.

  “I made reservations for seven,” he said, as he slid into the chair across from her. He’d left his suit jacket off and rolled up his sleeves. Casual, no pressure. Surely, after all these years, he understood she was on to him.

  “Chuck, I love you. I am extremely blessed to be married to you, but I’m in no mood to celebrate our anniversary right now. We can go out when Shannon comes home.”

  “You can’t put your life on hold this way.”

  “Nor can I go on with some stupid routine and pretend that everything is normal.”

  “I’m not asking you to pretend anything.” Chuck gulped coffee. She’d stung him with the insinuation that their anniversary was part of a stupid routine. “So we’re staying home tonight?”

  “You can do what you want.” Bobbi pulled the newspaper close and made a pretense of reading it.

  “Great, it’s settled then. Seven o’clock.”

  “Chuck—”

  “No, we’ve been under emotional siege for a month now. We need a break.”

  Before Bobbi could protest further, the phone rang, and she reached for it.

  “Mom,” Joel said. “I think we’ve decided to grill out Sunday after church for Ryan’s birthday. Will that work for you?”

  Ryan’s sixteenth birthday, and she completely forgot. “Umm . . . yeah, Sunday’s fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “It just slipped up on me, that’s all. What can I bring?” What can I have Chuck pick up that can be dumped in a serving dish so it looks homemade?

  “Dad and Jack.”

  “Seriously, Joel.”

  “I’m very serious. We’ll take care of everything. Just come.”

  Bobbi frowned and rolled her eyes. “What do you want Dad to bring, then?”

  “Ummm, Dad can bring a salad or something, but you better not help him.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  “Yes, I am. Oh, happy anniversary. You guys going out?”

  “Under protest, yes.”

  “Why don’t you want to go out?”

  “Aside from the obvious?”

  “Mom,” Joel said gently, “punishing yourself isn’t going to bring Shannon home sooner.”

  “I’m not punishing myself.”

  “Are you punishing Dad, then?”

  Tired of defending herself, tired of being admonished for her grief, she snapped. “When you have kids of your own, maybe you’ll understand.” In the heart-squeezing silence that followed, she realized how deeply she’d cut Joel. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.”

  “We’ll try to eat about one.”

  “Joel, please—”

  “We’ll talk later, Mom. I have to go now.”

  Bobbi laid down the phone and buried her face in her hands. She felt a touch on her arm. “He knows you didn’t mean it,” Chuck said.

  “He practically hung up on me,” she said, raising her head. “What a spiteful, cruel thing to say. Is that who I am now?”

  “No,” he said, taking her in his arms. “It was a slip. You would never hurt Joel or any of us.”

  “Never say never.”

  “Bobbi . . .”

  “I’ve seen too many things here lately that I never dreamed would happen. It’s like all of a sudden I don’t understand the rules or the boundaries anymore.”

  “You’ll get your bearings back.”

  She shook her head. “I feel like a monumental failure.”

  “Honey, we’ve been through this. Shannon . . . It was because of me. I came down too hard on her.”

  “No, she left because I never taught her how to cope.”

  “But she’ll come home because you taught her what real love is, what family is all about.”

  Bobbi leaned back in her chair and took a long drink of her coffee. “Chuck, I want to get Ryan a car for his birthday.”

  “What?”

  “My grandson is turning sixteen. I want to get him a car.”

  “We never got our kids cars when they turned sixteen.”

  “Grandchildren are different.”

  “You’re setting a ridiculously high standard for our future grandchildren.”

  “Do you realize how old we will be before any other grandchildren hit sixteen? This may be our only chance.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Completely.”

  “You’re not going to want to buy somebody a car every time you think you’ve hurt someone’s feelings, are you?” Chuck asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “There’s no question that I hurt Joel’s feelings. Can’t we buy a decent, used, high school kid kind of car out of that money market account?”

  “Yeah, but Bobbi, you never do anything impulsive. Is there something else going on?”

  Prove to Joel that she really did think of Ryan as theirs. Deflect attention from herself. Do one thing right. “No, I just really want to do something special for him. He’s a wonderful young man, and I don’t think he realizes that.”

  “I’ll talk to Joel first.”

  Bobbi rolled her eyes. “That’ll ruin the surprise.”

  “Even so,” Chuck said.

  “I want to go car shopping before dinner this evening.”

  * * *

  Chuck pushed his office door open, but before he could set down his briefcase, his phone rang. Christine waved for him to pick up, which meant it wasn’t work-related.

  “Dad, what’s going on with Mom?” Joel asked without saying hello.

  “Nothing. I mean everything’s still wearing on her.” He held the phone and wriggled out of his suit jacket. “But I don’t think it’s anything major
.”

  “Did you hear what she said?”

  “I was right there.”

  “That’s not like her. It worries me a little.”

  Chuck dropped into his chair, swiveling it to face the back wall of his office. “Then this is gonna sound really bad.”

  “What? There’s more?”

  “She wants to buy Ryan a car for his birthday. Like today, before we go out to dinner.”

  “You can’t get him a car. That’s too much.”

  “It’s the only thing she’s shown any initiative with or interest in lately.”

  “Again, that’s not like her. She’s depressed again, isn’t she?”

  “Probably, but I think she’s got reason to be.”

  “Is she suicidal?”

  “No! That’s crazy.” Completely. She wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

  “How did she pitch the idea of getting the car?”

  “She wanted to do something special for Ryan, and we may not get the chance to do anything like this for our other grandchildren.”

  “See, that fatalism? That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “I’m as concerned about her as I’ve ever been, but do the math. If you had a baby today, I’d be almost eighty before he could drive. She has a point.”

  “Maybe,” Joel mumbled.

  “This is important to her. I think we need to let her do it.”

  “On one condition,” Joel said. “Well, two conditions. One, you don’t get anything extravagant, and two, if she does anything else like this, anything out of character, you get her under a doctor’s care for depression.”

  “Joel—”

  “I’m serious,” Joel said with a childlike urgency in his voice. “I’ve lost a brother, my sister’s left home, and I can’t . . . I don’t want my mother stolen away by grief and depression.”

  Chapter 11

  Formality

  Just three hours, that’s all, Bobbi coached herself as she smoothed foundation across her cheeks. Three hours tonight, and three hours on Sunday. Focusing on Ryan’s car would get her through.

  She finished putting on her makeup, touched up her hair and dutifully put in the earrings Chuck bought her for a past anniversary. She checked herself in the mirror. Convincing enough. Unless she tried to smile. Three hours.

  She picked up her purse and walked over to switch on the bedside lamp. Her devotional book lay on the nightstand, untouched since the night before Brad’s death.

  Great Is Thy Faithfulness, the cover announced. It’s great. Just not great enough. It had lapses. The devotional books never mentioned that, though. They had no solace for those moments when God turned His back, or closed His eyes. Where were the quick and easy answers for that?

  She heard the front door open, which meant Chuck was home. She took the book from its spot, and on her way out of the bedroom, she dropped it in the wastebasket.

  Chuck caught her on the staircase and kissed her lightly. “You look fabulous. You sure you want to be seen with me?”

  “Not really. Want to stay home?”

  He frowned and slipped his hand around hers. “I think this will be good for you. Besides, we’re going car shopping, remember?”

  “Oh, I have Joel’s permission?”

  “He said nothing extravagant.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Bobbi said. The sooner she went, the sooner she’d get it over with.

  Car shopping proved simpler than she envisioned. They went to the Toyota dealer she always bought from and quickly narrowed down her choices. Chuck never protested they could get a better deal somewhere else. He gave her positive, constructive comments but let her make the decision. After a few quick signatures, the dealer promised to have the Rav4 detailed before Chuck picked it up tomorrow afternoon. Mission accomplished. But dinner still loomed.

  In the car, she made a show of flipping through the dealer’s paperwork before she stuffed it deep in her purse. When Chuck pulled into a restaurant she didn’t recognize, everything tensed, her neck, her shoulders, but especially her stomach. For a moment, she wondered if throwing up would get her a trip home.

  Oliver’s Twist was a new grill featuring live music on the weekends. Chuck opened her car door, walked her across the lot, then held the restaurant’s door for her. Inside the dimly lit foyer, loud music greeted them and wait staff in brightly patterned shirts and wireless mikes charged back and forth.

  “Oh, we’re way too old for this place,” Bobbi protested.

  “Nonsense.”

  Chuck took her hand and pulled her to the host’s stand. A moment later, the smiling young man led them to their table. He took their drink orders, then disappeared. Chuck reached across the table for her hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For giving me that hand in marriage years ago, and for coming to dinner. I know you didn’t want to go out tonight, but you did it. That means a lot to me.”

  “I learned a long time ago that you don’t listen to me when I say no.”

  A pianist, a guitarist and a drummer took their places on the small stage across the room from them. Once set, the guitarist began to sing a soft ballad. “Not your typical lounge lizards,” Bobbi said, nodding toward the band.

  “May I?” Chuck asked.

  “May you what?”

  “May I have this dance?”

  “We’ll look ridiculous.”

  “No, we won’t. It will be very touching and romantic. I’ll get all the other husbands in trouble.”

  “At least your motives are pure,” Bobbi said. “Not tonight.”

  “When was the last time we got to dance?”

  “Christmas party.”

  “That was months ago.”

  Bobbi pulled her hand away from his and leaned across the table. “I don’t want to be here. Don’t push it.”

  Chuck slumped back in his chair and sighed. “What can I do? How can I bring you out of this?”

  “You can’t. You can’t bring Brad back, and you can’t bring Shannon home.”

  “Then how can I help you carry it?”

  “I don’t think you can. I doubt anybody can.”

  * * *

  Sunday, July 13

  From the kitchen window, Joel saw his parents roll up in a shiny, silver Rav4, and a moment later, Jack pulled in behind them in his father’s Impala. “Here they are, Abby. She did good.”

  He stepped back so Abby could look out the window. “It’s perfect for him,” she said. “I still can’t believe your mother.”

  “Me, either.” He followed Abby to the front door, pausing at the steps. “Ryan! Your grandparents are here!”

  “Which ones?”

  “My parents, and Jack.”

  The teenager tromped down the stairs and strode to the front door, a step ahead of Joel and Abby. “You guys get a new car?” Ryan asked as he held the door open for them.

  Joel watched his mother carefully, but she played it very cool. “We bought a car,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “It’s nice. Doesn’t look much like a grandparent’s car, though.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” She hooked his arm and steered him toward the car. “I want you to see the stereo.”

  Ryan lowered his voice. “Nobody calls it that anymore.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sound system,” he said with an insider’s nod.

  She opened the driver’s side door for Ryan, as the rest of them crowded in closer. “Have a seat.” Ryan carefully eased into the driver’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel, then adjusted the rearview mirror.

  Joel slipped an arm around Abby’s shoulder. “Won’t be long, Buddy, till you’re behind the wheel.”

  “Of Mom’s car,” he muttered. “Nothing like this.”

  “So this car is cool?” Joel’s mother asked, without the slightest hint of a smile, without any sparkle in her eyes.

  “Way.”

  “Cool enough for a sixteen-year-old grandson?”
r />   “What?” Ryan asked. Joel grinned as Ryan sputtered. “You’re not . . . Are you . . . No way!”

  She handed him the keys. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  “For real?” Ryan cradled the keys and looked up at Joel for confirmation. “Can I take it for a drive?”

  “You already know how to drive?” his mother asked. At least her surprise seemed genuine.

  “Mom, you know how it is with guys and cars,” Joel admitted.

  “Don’t you at least need an adult in the car?” Abby asked.

  “Jack counts! Come on!”

  “Don’t wreck it the first day,” Joel called. Ryan shook his head as Jack climbed in the car. “Abby, we’re ruined. We’ll never top this.”

  When the car disappeared around the corner, Abby motioned to Joel’s parents. “Let’s get you folks inside where it’s air conditioned.” She swung the front door open. “You coming?” she called to Joel.

  “I want to wait for Ryan. You know, give him the standard lecture.”

  “Of course,” Abby said. “Should’ve guessed.”

  Joel shuffled over and sat down on the porch step to wait. His mother seemed fine just now, like normal. Was he the one overreacting? Clearly, she was able to get out, shop and choose an ideal car, three or four years old, cheap to maintain, and great gas mileage. Maybe they were all underestimating her.

  After a few minutes, Joel spotted the Rav4 maneuvering carefully down their street back to its original spot in front of the house. Ryan clambered out of the car, grinning broadly. “Can you believe this?” he said, patting the car’s roof.

  “No, I can’t,” Joel said. “She never did anything like that with us, did she, Jack?”

  Jack locked his passenger door and shuffled to the porch, faking dejection. “Now we know who she likes best.”

  “Give us a minute, okay?” Joel asked.

  “Sure.” Jack continued his shuffle through the front door. “I’ll get first shot at the food this way.”

  “I don’t think I could eat right now anyway,” Ryan said.

  As soon as Jack shut the door, Joel said, “You know you cannot tell your other grandparents about this.”