by Robyn Carr
For the next twelve or so years after high school he had kept active athletically and had lived in some interesting separate worlds. There was that very important straight world that he'd lived in the majority of his life, and then there was the period of three or four years that she called his “sin trip.” During that time he had done everything. He wouldn't say exactly what, just everything.
Maybe it was that time period that gave his eyes such a look of depth and wisdom. Beverly wouldn't ever really know. But all those years added up to a man who was strong, sure, confident, and beautiful. Not simply physically, but in his mind, his will. It was something Bev had grown to admire.
The big day for the wedding was fast approaching. Delores would have a houseful. Bev's two sisters, Stephanie and Barbara, would come to the wedding with their husbands and children and stay with Delores. Bev wasn't close to these two sisters, but they were close to each other. Bev seemed to be closer to Terry and John. Things worked like that in families. They were all perfectly content with the way things had turned out.
There was something else that was unusual, or at least uncommon about this family. Joe noticed it as others had.
“You know, Bev, your sisters are all really pretty, your brother is a very handsome man, and it's no secret that I think you're a knockout.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean, you're welcome, but that's not what I mean. What I mean is that your parents aren't... well, they're pretty ordinary-looking people. But their children are gorgeous. There's hardly any resemblance. Are you all adopted or something?”
She laughed. “No.”
It was a common observation and very difficult to verbalize unless you were one of them. Beverly's parents were plain and had always been, even in youth. The children, however, were fine-looking. Very beautiful, in fact. It was the kind of thing people noticed when they saw the family together. Like it was the perfect combination of genes or something.
“But then, I'm not a bad-looking guy and you're gorgeous. Do you think that means we'd have an ugly baby?”
“Want to check it out, Rev?”
“Knock it off, Beverly.”
Beverly was making herself useful by butting into all Terry's plans, trying to make everything perfect. Terry hadn't given much notice, but that didn't stop Bev. She insisted on a shower, a party, and other affairs that Terry would have passed up. In the meantime, her curiosity was killing her. Terry had mentioned that she and Steve had written their own vows and Joe had helped. Terry wouldn't tell her what they would say and neither would Joe. All Joe would admit to was including some Christian attitudes toward commitment, and some doctrine on the marriage contract.
That was that. Beverly had to wait. Now, Beverly might be a lot of things, but she definitely was not dumb. Steve and Terry had come to admire Joe with a kind of passion. Indeed, they might have written their own vows, but much of what they said to each other was bound to be from Joe. He had a way of making a person one of the flock.
May first did arrive, though Terry said often that she wondered if it ever would. She donned a long cream- colored dress and carried a bouquet of fresh flowers. She allowed Bev to fuss over her a little and Delores would not be stopped. Charlie led his youngest daughter down the aisle and handed her over to the groom. Terry was twenty years old. She didn't tremble or quiver. She was sure. Dead sure.
Beverly watched Joe more than the bride and groom. He stood before them in a nice suit instead of the robes he usually wore at worship. Since Terry and Steve were keeping it simple, he suggested that he do the same.
Oh, Beverly watched Joe, but Joe did not watch Bev. He was in charge up there; completely absorbed. He talked quietly to Terry and Steve, smiling occasionally as if they were telling jokes, and then he closed his eyes and said a prayer with them. It all seemed a very private affair. Beverly should have tried to catch a few words, she was close enough, but she was spinning with thoughts, many of which had to do with the handsome sandy-haired preacher.
Joe was special. It wasn't a personal opinion by a long shot. Everyone thought so. Because it was true. The entire congregation adored him. He was gifted. Also, he was friendly, kind, tolerant, thoughtful, and funny. He made people laugh at him, at themselves, at life, at love, and even at sin. He was very nearly perfect. He was not unlike Bob. A girl could do worse, but Bev just wasn't sure. Too many experiences had shaped her into the person she was now. She thought she might really have a screw loose.
When you've watched the man you love die, had an affair with one of his best friends, been attacked by various sex maniacs, tried to seduce a homosexual, and topped it off by tempting a man of the cloth, you had to be a bit dotty. And still trying to make something real out of your life certainly meant the psyche was damaged. She didn't want to mess up what was left of her life by entering into something with doubts. If she had earned nothing else from her pain, she had at least earned the right to be careful. Loving Joe was something she simply couldn't help.
“Friends,” the assistant minister said, “this man and woman come to God's house today to pledge themselves to each other in marriage. They have exchanged the marital promises you are accustomed to hearing. They have bowed their heads before our Lord to ask for this Divine blessing on this union. Now they invite us to share and witness their special words of promise to each other as they seal their vows.”
Terry and Steve turned around to face the congregation. It was an intimate group that attended them that day. They were bright, happy, and in love. Tears came to Beverly's eyes. About fourteen years ago another young couple faced the gathering in the church. They were also bright, happy, and in love. They were filled with hope and optimism. They were no more.
Terry said: “Loved ones, I have come here today to give myself in marriage to Steve. I give myself before God for the sake of love and hope. I commit myself to Steve with the promise that I will stay faithful to my husband and my promises, share his dreams and desires, support him in all things, and for all time. I pledge myself in hope: hope for the future, for the fruits of our union, and hope for the strength to do God's will in my marriage and in my life.”
Steve said: “While I pledge all this to my love, Terry, we add to this a prayer. We pray that God gives us the strength to be steadfast to Him and each other, to follow His will as a family, to follow the path He plans for us without straying, to live with His purpose as we endeavor to live by His Holy Law. We ask that you, our loved ones, pray for us as we seek peace and happiness through our marriage and our lives.”
Bev didn't hear the rest. She was brushing little tears from her eyes and sniffing. So, that was Joe. And now it was Terry and Steve. They would promise to live with a commitment to each other while simultaneously making a commitment to their faith. And sealed in the name of Jesus Christ while she was blowing her nose.
No small thing, this getting married, if you listened to the words. An awful lot of promising for two kids who had just been fooling around. But the words had fallen on many ears and everyone but Beverly was making their way to the altar to kiss the bride and groom. So, finally, Bev went too. She kissed the bride, the groom, and the minister. Pretty sloppy wedding, all in all.
“You win, Joe. I don't know what good it did, but I said a prayer.”
“What did you pray?”
“I prayed that they never have to suffer or put up with any shit. I prayed that they can live together forever and never have to know the misery of betrayal, loss, death, or longing. And I prayed really hard too.”
“That's great, Bev, we're making progress. Now, why don't you change that prayer just a little bit?”
“Why? It was a damn good prayer.”
“I know. But it might go down just a little better if you said something more like what you want, and then, 'Let Your will be done and give them the strength, courage, and faith to live with it.'“
“Do you really think He'd like that better?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“You're a damn know-it-all. I don't know if I want to change it to that. I'll have to think about it.”
“Good, you think. I'm going to have some wedding cake.”
Beverly changed the prayer. A little. “God, give them the strength, courage, and faith to live with Your decisions, but please, please, don't screw it up for them. Amen.”
Steve and Terry went off to have their honeymoon, and they went with glad hearts, and even Beverly the logical and rational could see that. And Joe was invited to take Beverly and the boys home after the reception. That's when he hit her with the big question. Would she like to help him take a group of teenagers on a weekend camping trip in two weeks?
“Where do you come up with such things?”
“It was their idea. Are you game?”
“Are you going to behave yourself?”
“I generally do. You're the one with the shaky moral conduct.”
“Don't be a smart-ass. I'll go if Mom will keep the boys.”
“Well, I already talked to John about that. He and your dad are going fishing for the weekend and he'd like to take them along.”
“Dad? Away for the weekend? What about his heart?”
“His doctor thinks it's a great idea. Real relaxing.”
“Oh, sure. Mark and Chuck ought to relax him right into another heart attack.”
“Naw,” Joe said. “Look, this has been all checked out already. This is a certifiably good idea. Charlie wants to spend more time with his grandsons, John needs a break and can look after all of them just fine, and you should go along with this. Really.”
“Let the boys go without me? Without my permission?”
“Preferably with your permission, and definitely without you. Your brother has a friend who has a well-furnished cabin on a lake. It's near a good hospital and there's nothing to worry about.”
“Is this all arranged?”
“Sort of.”
“I don't know.” Beverly the mother started to twist her hands. “I haven't ever sent them on a fishing trip, or anything. What if something happens?”
“Your brother is a doctor and your father has raised five kids. What better credentials do you want?”
“I don't know if I'm ready for this.”
“Well, get ready, Bev. Let go a little.”
“Is my grip too tight?”
“Yes. A little. They already know they don't have a father; don't smother them. Ease up a little.”
“Do you really think—”
“I think,” he said, “that whenever you box someone in, it makes them want to bust out.”
Bev let the boys plan it, and they were ecstatic. She could see their excitement as further proof that Joe was a natural at this sort of thing. He had an insight into children and young adults that went beyond the parent. The boys had their gear packed and waiting at Grandpa's house over a week before they were supposed to leave. Bev and Joe were going a half hour's drive across town and the boys would be all the way up north. Fishing. It might as well have been the moon.
They didn't make any plans for the weekend before that. Joe didn't ask her out and she didn't invite him over. She didn't tell the boys it had been exactly two years since their father had died, and she didn't tell Joe. She tried not to tell herself, but she already knew it.
She fed the boys early and turned on the TV. It wouldn't block out her thoughts. It was staying light out later and school would be over in a couple of weeks. She struggled against an odd urge and finally gave in, put on a reasonably clean sweatshirt, and piled the boys in the car.
She told them she would be running a short errand and they could plan the fishing trip with Grandpa while she was gone. They said that was okay. Grandma said it was okay, too, but only after a short investigation. So where was Beverly going? Just a short errand. And how was everything? Everything was fine, dandy in fact. She was to take her time, but Beverly said it wasn't apt to take long.
It wasn't likely the church would be unlocked, since there were no cars outside, but it was. And it wasn't very likely that the lights would be on, and they weren't. It was fairly dark. Dark enough to be a little scary if you couldn't see the doors from the altar. Bev would know if someone was locking up and there was always the phone, but she would die before she'd call Joe and tell him she was locked up in a church.
So, how do you go about this anyway? Maybe lighting some candles would help; it did wonders for the Catholics. It did seem to help. The flickering candles illuminated the church and made it come alive.
Okay, God. Do your stuff. I came here willingly. Hit me. It hasn't been all that bad lately, but that's Joe. He makes things seem better than they are. And I'm managing pretty well even if I don't have a natural flair for being both mother and father. If You do any thinking about Joe, however, please use Your head on this one and don't let him get his stupid heart broken over some dumb, maladjusted widow. Deal?
That's not it, though. However well I seem to manage and however much I seem to be leaning on Joe, I can't stop missing Bob. Oh, God, I still wait for him to come home in the evenings and reach for him in the night. I can feel love again and it's just not the same. It had finally become so solid and sure with Bob. Now it's all second-hand. Everything I have to offer I have already given. No one will ever have me fresh and new and full of energy. I come now with a ready-made family and a stretched-out body. I don't want to start over. I want to go back. Back to Bob. Back to growing old with the man I love. Back to comfort and security.
Oh, God, here it comes. I'm trying, but I can't stop it. I need that strength and courage and faith and I need it fast. I need a way to forget. There were so many men who weren't loved by their families, who weren't so good and strong and decent, and it was my Bob You had to take. So why? Oh, God, why? What super plan couldn't have been worked out with him still alive? It was a dirty trick to yank him away and You know it. And he loved You. Worshiped You. And the suffering? What the hell was that for? My Bob, my good and decent and strong man... why, why, why?
It would always end that way. Beverly was overcome. Whenever she let herself remember her incredible pain, she simply couldn't bear it. She let her head drop down to the rail and she wept hard and bitter tears. Her back heaved and she snorted. Bev had never been a charming weeper. She was downright miserable at it.
And another thing—now she was never alone with her hateful tears. She could never just lay her head down and cry her heart out when she wanted to. Then there was a hand on her shoulder that she thought might be the hand of God reaching out to comfort her. She turned on that hand angrily, ready to push it away. Instead, she fell into the assistant minister's arms... like a bad habit.
“What are you doing here?” she choked out. “Did you follow me?”
“I was here when you came in. In the back. You didn't see me.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“I was just going to go outside and wait for you. I'm sorry, Bev, I just couldn't leave you like this. I just had to hold you.”
“You're a sucker for tears, huh?”
“Yep. Yours, anyway.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I think.”
“Which is?”
“Praying on the anniversary of Bob's death.”
“Well, I think that takes a helluva nerve. You didn't even know him.”
“No, but I've come to admire him a great deal; his memory at least. He must have been a fine man and I love his sons. I wanted to pray for you too, Bev. I really hoped you'd make it through this okay.”
“Thanks, I guess.” More tears. Well, it just couldn't be helped when you were busy drowning in self-pity. Even though it would have been nice to be left alone in private agony, it wasn't too hard to lean against Joe's chest and cry. She had already accustomed herself to the feel of that chest, the smell, and the arms that went around her which were secure and strong.
“Oh, Joe. He's gonna be so disappointed in me.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think? The Boss.”
“Why?”
“Because I came here to pray for strength and courage and all those virtuous things, and I ended up yelling at Him. Screaming at Him and calling Him names and blaming Him.”
“It's okay, baby. You can get mad at God. He can take it.”
“He's gonna be pissed. Hold a grudge. Cross me off the Big List.”
“No.”
“My debut, and I blew it.”
“He loves you, Bev. No strings. You don't even have to love Him back.”
“Bull. He's gonna be really pissed this time.”
“You'll make up. He's not going anywhere.”
She must have really been down because she sat there and listened to Joe for a long time even though her gut feeling was to run and hide. He had a different voice for her when he murmured words of condolence, promise, love, and blessing. It wasn't his pulpit voice, beautiful, but not pulpit. She even bowed her head and tried to pray with him, but she was still a little too mad for that. And she was sad, too, but not afraid anymore. Not with Joe there to act like a go-between for her and the Big Guy.
Though distraught and upset, she managed to allow him to kiss her a little, right in front of God and everything. It was like he was trying to show her here and now that she wasn't too far gone to feel, to tingle a little, to know a love that was fresh and new even if she wasn't. When she pressed this firm man, felt his tender touch and honest love, she could manage something other than despair.
When they walked out of the church into the crisp spring night, Beverly felt washed. Unloaded and lighter. She asked Joe to follow her home. She didn't want it to go away for a while.
Chapter Eleven
Beverly saw the boys off on their fishing trip. She let them skip school on Friday to leave early with Uncle John and Grandpa. The youth group was not allowed to skip school and she and Joe left with them Friday afternoon. Two other couples and a dog came along too.