The Living Room

by Robert Whitlow

  “Monday and Wednesday would be the best. I won’t have anything after school on those days, and dance class is going to be on Tuesday and Thursday beginning in January.”

  Ian came into the kitchen. He didn’t notice Amy’s outfit. He opened the refrigerator door and poured a big glass of milk.

  “What’s for supper?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

  Amy looked at the clock. There wasn’t time to put together a regular meal.

  “Frozen pizza?” she asked.

  Ian looked startled.

  “Get used to it,” Megan said. “Mom may go back to work.”

  When he got home, Jeff showed enough sense not to question why they were eating pizza from a box for supper. Amy scraped together the makings of a decent salad, which everybody but Ian ate. Because Amy’s trip to the law firm was already out in the open, it was a topic of conversation during the meal.

  “Are you going to keep writing books?” Ian asked as he blew on a piece of pizza to cool it.

  “I hope so,” Amy answered. “I haven’t started a new one yet.”

  “Okay.” Ian nodded. “Then it would be good to make money in a real job until you do.”

  Amy glanced at Jeff. “Like father, like son.”

  Jeff shook his head. “I didn’t say anything to him.”

  After the children had cleared out, Amy and Jeff stayed in the kitchen. She brewed a pot of decaf coffee.

  “After I left the law firm I went by to see Ms. Burris,” Amy said as the water began to trickle down through the grounds.

  “What did she have to say?”

  “Not much and a lot,” Amy replied.

  “Huh?”

  Amy leaned over and kissed Jeff on the cheek.

  “She made me appreciate you more.”

  “I like that. Has she already hired someone to help her around the house?”

  “Not yet. She’s still praying about offering the job to me.”

  Amy saw Jeff’s jaw clench, then release.

  “Ms. Burris believes it’s time for my light to shine in the darkness.”

  “That’s easy to interpret,” Jeff said. “What could be darker than a law office?”

  “You really want me to work there, don’t you?”

  “Yes, because your light is so strong.”

  “And not because it will be a lot more money along with benefits?”

  “Yes, but for every reason I can think of, it seems like the best decision. You want to work for Ms. Burris so you can spend time with her. You can do that whether you work for her or not. Her house is almost within walking distance of the law office.”

  Amy took her coffee up to the writing room to pray. However, instead of closing her eyes, she stared out the window at the darkening winter landscape. The sandhills region of North Carolina was dull and drab from December to March. It lacked the crisp starkness of New England or the softer hues of the Deep South. The brown landscape perfectly matched Amy’s mood. She tried to encourage herself with the thought that Mr. Phillips held her in such high regard he extended a job offer designed to lure her back to work. But that was exactly how Amy felt—lured back to the daily grind of word processing by the need for money. Ms. Burris could quote a verse about light and darkness with a wrinkled smile on her face and a twinkle in her blue eyes, but Amy was the one who was going to have to leave her attic retreat and return to life in the ordinary world.

  She turned on her computer and opened a new document. At the top of the page, she typed “Chapter One.” Beneath the two words was a white ocean of blank space. Amy stared at the page. If she could fill the void with words that thousands and thousands of people would buy and read, she could reclaim her freedom.

  But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  As she lay in bed listening to Jeff’s regular breathing, Amy knew what she was going to do. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes. No confirming dreams put heaven’s stamp of approval on the next step of her life.

  The following morning she told Jeff her decision.

  “I’m accepting the job. I’ll call Mr. Phillips around nine o’clock and let him know.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “I believe it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  Jeff hugged her. Feeling the gratitude in his embrace, Amy hugged him back.

  After Jeff left for work, Amy called the law office. The same young female voice answered. This time Amy had a face to go with the greeting. Soon she’d know more about the young woman at the front desk.

  “This is Amy Clarke. Is Mr. Phillips available?”

  “Just a minute, please.”

  Mr. Phillips was appreciative and efficient. He brought Ms. Kirkpatrick in on a conference call and suggested that Amy return to work between Christmas and New Year’s Day. When Mr. Phillips mentioned the amount of her salary, Amy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. It was a ten percent increase in base pay.

  “Prepare a compensation summary for Amy that also includes full benefits beginning immediately,” Mr. Phillips said to the office administrator.

  “She’ll have to be treated as a new hire subject to the sixty-day waiting period for health insurance,” Ms. Kirkpatrick said.

  “I already talked to the other partners about that. We’ll fund a supplemental policy to bridge the gap.”

  “Then I’ll call about it today. Amy, I have all your information in your old personnel file. Any changes in your health?”

  “No, just a year older.”

  “We all are. Mr. Phillips, since the office will only be open for three days next week, do you want to wait until after the New Year’s holiday for her to start?”

  “No,” Mr. Phillips said. “We’ve agreed on the day after Christmas. And we’ll pay her for the New Year’s holiday.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “No, that should cover it.”

  “Amy, I look forward to seeing you then,” Ms. Kirkpatrick said. “And by the way, I loved your book. I had no idea all that creativity was hiding inside you. Most of the ladies at the office have read it. It was a sweet story.”

  “Thanks,” Amy said. “I finished a second novel a few weeks ago. It will be released next year.”

  “I think we’re done here,” Mr. Phillips interjected.

  “Yes, sir,” both Amy and Ms. Kirkpatrick responded.

  The call ended. Amy took a deep breath and phoned Natalie.

  “Can you meet me for coffee?” she asked. “I have some news to share with you.”

  “Uh, the boys are here. I don’t think you want me to bring them.”

  “Let me see if Megan will watch them for an hour or so.”

  “Okay. What’s going on?”

  “I’d rather talk in person.”

  Amy went upstairs and knocked on Megan’s door. She received a sleepy acknowledgment.

  “Do you want to earn some money babysitting this morning for Natalie?” Amy asked.

  Megan rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I still haven’t bought Dad a Christmas present.”

  “How long will it take you to get ready?”

  “Thirty minutes if no one is going to see me except Ben and Noah.”

  Amy called Natalie, then checked on Ian. He was in the midst of a complex construction project with tiny building blocks.

  “I’ll be back in an hour and a half,” Amy said. “Will you—”

  “I’ll be okay,” he said, not looking up from his work. “I promise not to put a plastic bag over my head or turn on the oven.”

  During the short drive to Natalie’s house, Amy told Megan that she’d accepted the job at the law firm.

  “I start December 26,” Amy said.

  “What is Mrs. Graham going to pay me?” Megan asked, turning toward Amy. “I hate having to wake up early during Christmas break.”

  “You know she’ll be generous. She always is.”

  Ben tolerated Megan, but Noah loved her. The younger of the two boys grabbed
Megan’s hand as soon as they entered the house. His over-the-top excitement brought a grudging smile to Megan’s face. He led her upstairs to his room.

  “I’ll give you the money to pay Megan,” Amy said as soon as she and Natalie were out of the house. “She needs some cash to buy Jeff a Christmas present.”

  “What’s going on?” Natalie asked as Amy backed her car out of the driveway. “Pre-Christmas depression can be worse than post-Christmas blues.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Christmas,” Amy replied. “I’m going back to work at the law firm.”

  “What?” Natalie asked.

  By the time they’d taken a couple of sips of coffee, Amy had shared most of the story.

  “Mr. Phillips mentioned a salary increase yesterday,” Amy said, “and this morning when I talked to the firm administrator, I found out it’s going to be more than I would have guessed. Jeff is going to be thrilled.”

  Natalie stared at her for a moment. “But you’re not.”

  “I don’t know. Part of me feels trapped. Another part is relieved that I can help out financially.” Amy took a sip of coffee. “I stopped by to see Ms. Burris on my way home yesterday. I wanted to find out what she thought.”

  Natalie perked up. “What did she say?”

  “That she wasn’t ready to offer me a job cleaning her house, and wherever I went to work I was supposed to let my light shine. Jeff had no problem interpreting what that meant.”

  “It does make sense,” Natalie said thoughtfully. “What could be darker than a law office?”

  “A coal mine or a maximum-security prison are the only things I can think of,” Amy replied glumly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks for coming to my pity party,” Amy said. “Oh, on a brighter note, Ms. Burris mentioned again that she wants the three of us to have lunch together at her house, probably after the holidays. Maybe I can squeeze an extra half hour out of Mr. Phillips so I don’t have to eat and run.”

  “I’d love to meet her.”

  “And I can’t wait to share her with you. But brace yourself. There’s no telling what she might say to you. She thinks outside the box.”

  “Hanging around you is good preparation.”

  “You give me too much credit for being spiritual.”

  “I’m entitled to my opinion.” Natalie took a long sip of coffee. “And you also let your light shine through your books. The feedback you get from readers is the tip of the iceberg. You have no idea how many desperate women in a dark place have read A Great and Precious Promise and found the strength to go on. Most of them didn’t take the time to send you an e-mail, but someday you’ll know about every one of them.”

  Amy thought about Sanford Dominick’s obituary. In the end, God determined what mattered in life.

  “Not that you’re proud or anything like that,” Natalie continued. “Getting puffed up would be a real problem for a lot of people, but whether you realize it or not, you’re more confident than you used to be. I mean, Mr. Phillips treated you as an equal.”

  “It wasn’t at that level, but his attitude was different,” Amy admitted.

  “And I believe you’re going to have more respect at the law firm than you did before.”

  “I doubt it. Most people will think I came back to work because I failed as a writer.”

  “No way.” Natalie leaned forward in her chair. “You’re going to walk into that office the first morning with your head held high.”

  Amy smiled and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  When she had returned home following her time with Natalie, Amy called Ms. Burris and told her about her decision.

  “I’ll be praying for you,” the older woman replied.

  “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  The phone call ended with Amy wondering what, if anything, Ms. Burris wasn’t telling her.

  Christmas came with considerably less stress than would have been the case if Amy were unemployed. She’d not received a paycheck, of course, but the fact that a second income would soon flow into the house made the extra expenses of the holidays easier. Christmas Eve morning Amy received a call from Bernie Masters.

  “Happy Hanukkah,” Bernie said.

  “I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

  “I’m not, but for some reason a lot of people think I am, so I’ve gone ecumenical in my holiday greetings. I may say, ‘Ho, ho, ho,’ to the next person I call.”

  “I have a Christmas surprise for you,” Amy said.

  “News that you’ve started a new book would be the best present you could give me.”

  “Not yet. I’m still praying about it.”

  “Well, pray more.”

  “I will.” Amy took a deep breath. “I’m going back to work at the law firm. My old boss contacted me and asked me to fill in for a few months while his new secretary is out on maternity leave.”

  “I think that’s great,” Bernie replied.

  “You do? Why? I’ll have less time to write.”

  “And less financial pressure forcing you to write. Your writing needs to flow from your heart, not from the threat of a deadline. Writers are like snowflakes and zebras. No snowflake has identical crystals, and every zebra has a different pattern of stripes. It’s important to understand how you’re wired to make sure the creative circuits don’t short-circuit. Your waters can’t be agitated by life circumstances.”

  “Why didn’t you say that before?”

  “Would you have listened? If you remember, I told you to reconsider quitting your day job when you first mentioned it.”

  “Yes, you did. I forgot about that.”

  “Most of us need to be self-taught. We refuse to learn from a teacher.”

  “What else do you want to teach me?”

  “Nothing at the moment, but be careful when you ask a person like me, who has an opinion about everything, a question like that. Listen, I caught Dave Coley on the phone this morning. His assistant must be out for the holidays, and he answered. He thinks The Everlasting Arms is going to solidify your brand and mentioned an interest in exercising the option for a third book. I told him that was positive news, but we need to see a bigger marketing push for A Great and Precious Promise and expect a full-court press for The Everlasting Arms.”

  “Did that upset him?”

  “No, he wouldn’t expect me to say anything else. But then he surprised me by tossing out a few things that are already in the works. They’re going to run a nice promotion for the e-book version of A Great and Precious Promise that provides a teaser for The Everlasting Arms.”

  “I like that.”

  “And they’re going to purchase front-of-store placement in some of the larger Christian bookstores for the new novel when it releases. That’s the sort of thing that will move units.”

  “Okay.”

  “You know I’ve been harping on you about starting another book, but it’s not a bad strategy to let the buying cycle continue to run on the first two novels. If you make the publisher and your readers wait, it can fuel pent-up demand and cause a new release to pop up the charts—so long as it doesn’t stretch too far out.”

  “How far out is too far?”

  “I don’t know, but I think the chances are good that Dave will bite on a new novel early in the process without seeing the finished product.”

  Amy’s head was spinning. She still wasn’t exactly sure what Bernie wanted her to do.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I have a concept for the next book,” she said.

  “Don’t do that,” Bernie responded.

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t buy the first pair of shoes you try on, do you? Make sure the idea fits the direction you want to go before you get my wheels turning on ways to promote it.”

  Bernie Masters was an enigmatic jumble of encouragement, instruction, confusing advice, and tough love.

  “You should be a character in a book someday,”
Amy said.

  “If that happens, I don’t want it to be an inspirational romance novel. I want to be in a murder mystery. Everyone thinks I get killed, but I come back in the final pages to take my revenge.”

  Amy chuckled. “One of your other clients will need to write that one. I’d make you the man who finds true love after searching in vain in all the wrong places.”

  “That last part wouldn’t be fiction. Talk to you soon.”

  ten

  The night before she returned to work, Amy lay in bed with her eyes open and stared unseeing at the ceiling. The law firm culture was familiar to her; she wasn’t venturing into the unknown, but she couldn’t shake a sense of apprehension at what lay ahead. She prayed a brief prayer, turned onto her side, and fell asleep.

  And went to the living room.

  The familiar walls enveloped her with peace, and Amy entered the place of rest where she wanted to stay forever. Eventually, she felt herself being pulled away. When she did, somber words echoed from the breathing walls and surrounded her:

  Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret.

  Amy woke up. It was 3:05 a.m. She slipped out of bed and climbed the stairs to the writing room. She didn’t know the exact location of the verse she’d heard but quickly found it with the help of a concordance. She turned to the passage in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and read it several times.

  The intensity of the message was similar to the way she received the titles for A Great and Precious Promise and The Everlasting Arms. But there was an added sense of foreboding that troubled her. The verse fit precisely with Ms. Burris’s challenge that she let her light shine in the darkness, which made Amy wonder if it had anything to do with her writing at all. She sat in her chair as the inner debate went back and forth. She reread the verses from 1 Peter chapter 1 about the flowers of the field. Which would it be? What direction was the Lord leading her?

  Turning on her laptop, she typed in a large font on a fresh page:

  DEEDS OF DARKNESS

  A Novel

  by

  Amy Clarke

  Seeing the title, Amy felt a strong desire to start writing well up within her. The feeling confirmed her decision. Deeds of Darkness would be her next novel.