by Nancy Moser
By the look of discomfort on Bill’s and Helen’s faces, it was obvious the moment appeared as awkward as it felt. But luckily, another couple approached the table and the chitchat of introductions took over. Ken wouldn’t have been able to repeat their names if a gun had been placed to his head. His mind railed with accusations and anger. He’d been tricked, trapped, and deceived. By Ronnie. His honest, honorable ex. It was something Ken would have done, but not Ronnie.
Ken felt his son’s eyes but didn’t look in his direction. He took too many sips of water and became preoccupied with placing his linen napkin in his lap, just so. Ronnie also vied for eye contact but he vowed not to give either of these conspirators the satisfaction.
Luckily, Bill supplied a distraction. “So, Ken, what’s the gossip on the circuit?”
Although Ken hadn’t been on the circuit for ten years, he chatted on about the pros, using the knowledge he’d gained from watching the tournaments on TV. Drawing on his past contact with many of the golfers, he managed to embellish enough that it sounded like he was still a player.
When the new guy at the table joined the discussion, Ken knew he’d successfully dodged a bullet.
***
Ken made it through half his salad doing the small talk thing. But when Bill asked Philip what he was up to lately, Ken pushed his chair back and stood. He tossed his napkin on his seat and walked out of the ballroom without even an “Excuse me” or “Nice talking to you” to his tablemates. A man could only take so much.
The corridor swarmed with people, as though another event had just let out. Ken slid into the crowd. Yet after going only a few yards he heard his name called.
“Ken!”
He ignored Ronnie and kept walking.
“Ken!”
The female half of a couple walking in the opposite direction pointed toward Ronnie. “I think you’re being paged.”
Ken did a half-hearted job of pretending he’d only just noticed: he did a quick glance toward Ronnie, slowed, and told the woman, “Thanks.” He stopped while the couple moved on.
Ronnie caught up with him, in spite of her heels. Her face was red—and not from the physical exertion. She took his arm and, pasting on a smile, pulled him to the side of the corridor near a potted palm. She turned her back toward the exiting masses. “How dare you!”
“How dare you,” Ken said, even as he tried to keep a happy face for the public’s view. He lowered his voice. “You tricked me. You trapped me.”
“Only because you haven’t returned Philip’s phone calls.”
She knows about those? “So you’re the one who told him to call?”
“Absolutely not. The calls are his doing. He’s the one who wants to make contact again.”
“Why now? After two years?” Over his ex-wife’s shoulder Ken saw Philip approaching. He quickly looked to his right, but the plant blocked his escape. And to the left was the wall.
Philip joined them, adding to the blockade. “Don’t run from me, Dad. I won’t bite.”
“I don’t need this,” Ken said.
“But I do.”
The calm tone of his voice made Ken look at him.
“I’m the one who’s been wrong these past two years. Even before that. It’s my fault.”
Ken blinked. This was not the arrogant kid he’d last known, the one who’d glared at him with hatred and said, “Get away from me! I want nothing to do with you! Ever! I wish you were dead!”
For the first time that evening Ken looked at his son. He was taller, at least an inch taller than Ken. His dark curly hair was shorter than before and neatly trimmed. He wore a gray suit. And a tie. Who was this person standing before him?
“I’m sorry you feel tricked into coming tonight. When Mom told me she’d run into you at the mall and you’d agreed to go to Uncle Davey’s funeral, I—”
“Why weren’t you there?”
“I have a cold. It’s better today.”
“It was my idea to invite you here tonight,” Ronnie said. “Philip wasn’t gung ho about the idea, guessing you’d feel…like you feel. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
She lifted her chin and gave him a look he’d seen dozens of times before. “And you should have returned your son’s calls.”
She had a point.
“Just talk to me, Dad. Just once. See how it goes.”
“Why don’t the two of you go to lunch tomorrow?” Ronnie suggested.
“That’d be great,” Philip said.
The trapped feeling returned, but with less vengeance. It was obvious this new Philip was not like the old one. It might be possible to be in the same room and not argue. It might be possible to actually talk.
“Do it for me,” Ronnie said. “I want to see my two favorite guys get along.”
Philip shook his head. “Do it for me, Dad. Please.”
Ken looked at Ronnie, then at his son. Although he wasn’t eager to open a slammed door, he wasn’t sure he wanted to lock it either.
“Fine. Okay. Fine.”
***
When Deidre returned home from her visit to Audrey’s house, Karla was there waiting for the details. “So?”
There was no way Deidre could tell her.
Not that Sig or Audrey had asked Deidre to maintain silence. But what good would it do to have Karla think badly of Sig’s surgical skills? She looked up to him and respected him.
Deidre hung up her coat and shut the closet door with a gentle click. “Things are better now.”
“So you did receive peace of mind and heart?”
Oh. The verse. “Yes, I guess I did.”
“Good for you.”
Good for me. Good for us.
***
Deidre did not see Sig the rest of the day. Soon after she returned home, he phoned to say he’d been called into surgery for a two-vehicle accident, and one surgery had turned to two when another victim from the crushed van needed his services.
That night, for the first time in months Deidre longed to have him in bed beside her. She needed him.
But he wasn’t there.
She drifted off to sleep while watching a M*A*S*H rerun. If she couldn’t have her own surgeon beside her, she’d watch other surgeons helping the helpless.
Deidre opened her eyes when she felt Sig get into bed. The room was dark. He’d turned off the TV. She started to sit up.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Shh. It’s not time to get up. It’s nearly one in the morning. Complications with the surgeries. I’m so sorry. Go back to sleep.”
Just the way he said it , so considerate and kind.
Deidre lay back down, but once he was settled with his back to her, she moved close, hugging him, nestling together like two spoons seeking a common place within the space of the other.
Sig found her hand and pulled it to his chest. He held it there. Near his heart.
***
Knocking?
Abigail opened her eyes and listened, trying to see if the knocking in her dreams was part of the dream or—
Someone knocked at her door.
She looked at the clock. Green numbers glowed back at her: 2:15. Who would be knocking at this time of night?
“Abigail?” It was her neighbor Delia’s voice, a harsh whisper. Worried. Plaintive.
Abigail got out of bed and went to the door. Standing before her was Delia holding a pajama-clad Joey. Hayley stood beside her, also in her pj’s. “There’s been an emergency. Can they come in with you?”
Still not grasping what was happening, Abigail did have the sense to step aside. Delia carried Joey into the living room and deposited him in the circular rattan chair. He immediately curled into a ball, his eyes never opening.
“Dad was shot,” Hayley said as she sat on the couch.
“Shot?”
Delia tucked the afghan around her son. “He’s a night watchman. A burglar. I have to get to the hospital.”
“Is it serious?”
“He’s been admitted.” She kissed the top of Joey’s head, then her daughter’s upraised face. “Be good. I’ll call when I know something.” She hurried to the door.
“Is there anything I can do?” Abigail asked.
“Just take care of the kids. And pray.”
Unfortunately, Abigail wasn’t adept at either.
After locking the door behind Delia, Abigail returned to the living room to find Hayley curled up on one end of the couch, her feet tucked between two cushions for warmth.
“I’ll get you a blanket.” She retrieved one from the closet and tucked it around the girl, then did an extra tucking of the afghan around Joey. She sat on the coffee table in front of Hayley. “You okay?”
Dumb question.
Hayley gave a wiser answer. She shrugged.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Will you pray with me?”
Ask me anything else.
“Please?”
To admit she wasn’t a practiced prayer was not something Abigail wished to do, so she nodded and bowed her head. Hayley’s hand appeared in the space between them and Abigail took it and held it against her knee. She waited for Hayley to pray.
Silence.
Surely the girl doesn’t expect me to pray aloud?
Hayley opened her eyes. “Go ahead.”
As if she had a choice? Abigail closed her eyes. She was good at improvisation. She could do this. “God? Help us. Show us what to do. And make Clive good as new.” She hesitated a moment, then realized she had covered the main points. To herself she quickly added, And help me help the kids. “Amen,” she said.
“Amen.” Hayley snuggled deeper into the cushions. “Is Dad going to die?”
The impulse to say Of course not came. And went. “I don’t know. I hope not.”
Oddly, Hayley seemed satisfied with that answer. “I’m glad we’re here with you.”
“Me too,” Abigail said. “Try to get some sleep.”
If only that were an option.
EIGHT
Don’t keep looking at my sins.
Remove the stain of my guilt.
PSALM 51:1
Deidre awoke to the sounds of the shower running, and Sig singing Love Me Tender. He had such a nice voice.
She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even seven yet. And he was up on a Sunday, after getting home from surgery so early in the morning?
The shower turned off. Deidre swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her face, trying to get her brain in gear.
Yesterday the truth about Audrey had come out. Her husband had not been unfaithful.
It was a new day.
Sig popped his head out of the bathroom wearing a white terry robe, rubbing his hair with a towel. “Hey. You’re up.”
“So are you.”
“Good morning.”
Was it? A good morning? If so, it was the first in many a month.
He tossed his towel on the counter and came into the bedroom. “I know we’ve gotten out of the habit, but what if we go to church this morning?”
Deidre felt her eyebrows rise. For months they’d rarely gone. It was hard enough keeping secrets, much less going into God’s house with them tucked away in a pocket.
Obviously noticing her skepticism, he came to the bed and sat beside her. “Come on, Deidre. With all that’s been going on maybe it would help. Besides, after yesterday, I feel cleansed. At least about Audrey. I’m so glad I told you. Finally told you.”
“But church?”
He shrugged and fingered the belt of the robe. “I’m tired of worrying about the trial. And like I said the other night, I hate that the brunt of this is falling on you. I’m sure you want it done with as much as I do.”
You have no idea.
He continued. “Yesterday with the surgeries, I had a chance to remember who I am and what I do. I helped three kids yesterday and—”
“I thought you had two surgeries.”
“While you and Nelly were shopping I went out to do one thing, but ended up…I pinpointed the problem in another child, the cutest little boy named Orlando. I’m going to do some surgery on him. He might never have had a chance to be cured if it weren’t for me.”
This was the Sig she knew. A do-gooder. Confident and driven.
He raised a hand. “I know you’ve heard it before. I’ve never been one to not toot my own horn. But in this case, I know it’s true. The mother said so.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Be happy for the kids.”
Deidre was slightly taken aback. Although her husband had a soft spot for needy kids it was usually balanced by an assertive passion for his own talent. But there was something different about him today. Softer. Submissive.
He took her hand and held it captive in his. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with the trial. But the mother of the boy I met yesterday said that there’s no such thing as coincidence, that God can turn even bad things into good, so I’m hoping that this horrible thing that’s been dogging us—” He took a fresh breath. “I hope somehow, someway, it will turn out okay. I mean, if God is behind my talent and my talent can help people, then surely he’s got a plan to make this entire mess work out.”
Was she in a movie or in the middle of a novel? This total change in her husband could only be explained away by a glitch in plotting.
“So is church okay this morning?”
“I suppose.”
It couldn’t hurt.
***
Deidre hadn’t paid close attention during church in years. When she did attend, she did so with a chip on her shoulder. Okay, God, I’m here, but don’t expect to reach me because it ain’t happening.
Yet today…
Pastor Miller caught her attention by telling a story about his three-year-old daughter, how she played a game where she covered her eyes and said, “Daddy, you can’t see me!”
Deidre liked stories about kids in sermons. It made the message tolerable. Today’s story made her remember Nelly doing the same thing the pastor’s daughter had done. It was such a cute—
The pastor interrupted her memory. “We laugh at our children’s games, but are we playing the same game with our heavenly Father? Covering our eyes, pretending he can’t see us?”
Deidre’s happy thoughts of Nelly evaporated.
Pastor Miller continued. “Do we have the attitude: if I don’t think about God, then he won’t think about me?”
Pretty much.
“Let me assure you, he thinks about you—all the time. He sees you—all the time. ‘The Lord looks down from heaven and sees the whole human race. From his throne he observes all who live on earth.’” The pastor smiled and whispered into the microphone. “He knows what you’re doing and what you’ve done.” He stood upright, his voice carrying across the sanctuary like a heavenly proclamation. ‘For the Lord sees clearly what a man does, examining every path he takes.’ ‘The Lord is watching everywhere, keeping his eye on both the evil and the good.’”
Deidre felt a creepy-crawly feeling in her gut. She put her purse in her lap and pretended to need a tissue. Anything to defuse the moment.
“’People may be pure in their own eyes, but the Lord examines their motives.’ But ‘commit your actions to the Lord, and your plans will succeed. The Lord had made everything for his own purposes, even the wicked for a day of disaster. The Lord detests the proud; they will surely be punished.’”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
The threat of punishment loomed.
***
“The good thing is,” Pastor Miller said, “God knows all you’ve done and loves you anyway. If we were smart we would stop hiding, introduce ourselves to him, be honest with him—since he knows it all anyway—and stop trying to live life under his radar. We need to work with him and let him work within us. Let him release us from the battle of handling things alone. If we do this, he guarantees—”
A shudder coursed thro
ugh Deidre, one strong enough for Sig to give her a questioning look. She couldn’t look back at him.
Each breath came with pained deliberation. Her heart pounded.
“Are you all right?” Sig whispered.
She shook her head, stood, and sidled her way out of the pew.
Deidre hurried outside the church where she gasped for breaths free of him. They did not come easily and she lifted her chin, straining to make the airway clear.
“Deidre?” Sig joined her on the front steps. “What’s wrong?”
“I…can’t...breathe.”
He led her to the ledge of a stone planter. “Sit. Relax. In. Out.”
An usher stuck his head out the door, but Sig reassured him everything was all right. Deidre was glad for that. She didn’t need an audience.
In fact, she would have preferred if Sig weren’t here. How was she ever going to explain what had brought about this panic attack, how her own sins overshadowed his? There was no way Sig could fathom what a bad person she really was. Her motives were selfish—evil, if she wanted to use the word Pastor Miller had used. And she was proud in the worst way possible. Oh, so proud and sure of herself. She could handle things. She didn’t need—
She did need. A lot. Too much. The secrets she’d ignited years ago had never left her. No matter how hard she tried to run away from them they perched on the edge of every moment, waiting.
They aren’t secrets to me. I know all about them. Let me in, Deidre. Let me help.
She shook her head, pushing the inner voice away. She couldn’t let anyone—especially God—be privy to the inner workings of her mind and heart. Or her past. No one would want to have anything to do with her if they knew how she’d manipulated things. And no matter what Pastor Miller said, God wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Especially after she’d repeatedly told him she wanted nothing to do with him.
Sig sat beside her, stroking the place between her shoulder blades. “All the talk in there about secrets ...are you still upset because of me keeping the Audrey secret from you? Or did Pastor’s words about God seeing everything hit you as hard as they hit me? They hit me hard. Even though you didn’t know about Audrey, God knew and he didn’t like it, and then there’s the other thing he saw…” Sig shook his head. “He knows, Deidre. He knows it all. I’ve tried to ignore that, but I don’t think I can any longer.” He sighed deeply. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”