Feeling uncomfortable, I suddenly wonder if he means me. Can he possibly find me intoxicating?
“I suppose that sounded weird,” he admits. “I mean, this food. Aren’t these cheeseburgers incredible?”
I nod with what I decide is relief. “They’re fantastic.”
“So, anyway, about a year into the marriage, I realized we were in serious trouble. Camille wanted me to make more money, but she also wanted more of my time. I didn’t know how to give her both. I was still working those long hours and still sleeping at the office a lot. Probably even more than was necessary. Because when I did make it home, it never seemed to be the sweet marital bliss that I’d imagined.” He waves his hand as if to erase that. “I won’t go into all the details, and I do take the blame for how our relationship deteriorated. I can’t really blame Camille for having a packed social life since I sure wasn’t giving her the time and attention she needed. But we just kept growing further apart. We hadn’t even been married two years when I realized our marriage was doomed. But then Camille got pregnant.”
“Kirsten.”
“Yes. But at the time Camille didn’t want to have a baby, didn’t want to ruin her figure or her social life. She even talked about an abortion. But I told her I would leave her if she did. It was a real standoff for a while. But finally she seemed to change. I thought maybe it was those maternal hormones kicking in, and I began to feel hopeful. She got caught up in planning for the baby and started ordering things for a nursery. In the usual Camille style, it was way over the top, but I didn’t care. I thought this might be our chance for happiness. I promised to start taking more time off from work. And for a while, I did. But then Kirsten came along, and things got hectic, and I returned to my workaholic ways. The business obsessed me. Even when I wasn’t at work, my mind was at work. It was very unhealthy.”
“And hard on your relationship.” Okay, I’m trying to understand this guy, but it’s not exactly easy. Also, I wonder why he wants to tell me all this. Even more than that, I wonder why I’m so eager to hear it.
“Yes, that’s why I really do blame myself for how things went.” He dips a fry in ketchup and sadly shakes his head. “At Kirstens third birthday party, which was quite an event with pony rides and a clown and magician—the works—Camille told me that she was leaving me and taking Kirsten with her.”
“That night, after I tucked Kirsten in bed, imagining how empty my life would be without my little princess, I begged Camille to rethink her decision. I promised that I would change, that we would change. I even suggested we get counseling. To be fair, I wasn’t fighting as much for Camille as I was for Kirsten. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my daughter. And Camille had already told me that she wanted to relocate to San Diego. She said that she was tired of the Seattle rain, that it depressed her.”
“I’ve heard it can be pretty dreary,” I admit.
“It takes it’s toll on some.”
“So is that why you moved down here?”
“Sort of. But first I sold my share of the software business to Daniel. He got a great deal, but the timing wasn’t the best for me, because I still was so invested in the business development. Even so, I didn’t care. I knew I couldn’t put off that decision for another day. I finally grasped that having a family, being with my daughter, was worth more than anything. It’s like I woke up and suddenly realized that life wasn’t just about making money. If I had to be home 24/7 to make my marriage work, to be a better dad, I would do it.”
“But it still didn’t work?”
He laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. “Camille wasn’t pleased at all. She thought selling my share of the business was a huge mistake. And as it turned out, she was already involved with someone else.”
“Wow.” I’m not sure how to respond, but I feel a genuine pang of sympathy for him now. Even so, why he did he marry a woman like that? Gorgeous or not, she sounds like a real witch. “What did you do?”
“Well, I finally had time on my hands. At first I got depressed, questioning everything about myself, about life, about God. Then I did some deep soul searching. And I borrowed a friend’s boat and did some sailing. I also spent a lot of time with Kirsten. I felt like I was really getting to know her. Before she had seemed like a baby, but suddenly she was this little person, with her own thoughts and opinions and an interest in everything.”
“That is a fun age.”
“And eventually I returned to the faith I’d been raised with. I realized I couldn’t make it on my own, and I really pursued a relationship with God. For the first time in years, I started to experience real peace. That’s when I started to rearrange my priorities. I decided that I want to live the rest of my life totally differently.”
“Was that when you started doing carpentry?”
“I realized it was something I had loved doing. I think because carpentry was so logical, sort of mathematical and predictable. I liked that. I’d rebelled against it in college, but the truth was, I liked making things with my hands. I liked the feel of wood, taking something rough and transforming it into something beautiful and useful. So I got a few tools and started messing around with it again. My dad had taught me a lot, and much of it came back to me.”
“So did you get a job then? Or start your own construction company?”
“I didn’t have that level of confidence yet. Also, I wasn’t ready for my own business again. So I took a couple of classes at the community college, but I quickly realized that I knew as much as, maybe even more than, some of my instructors. After that I bought some good tools and just started building things.”
“And what happened with Camille?”
“Shortly after the divorce was final, she married Peter, the stockbroker she’d been involved with. And they made plans to move down to San Diego.”
“And that’s why you came down here?”
“I could’ve stopped Camille. According to the custody agreement, she wasn’t supposed to remove Kirsten from the state. But by then I’d had time to rethink a lot of things—my own selfishness and being a poor excuse for a husband and a workaholic to boot. Finally I gave in. I told Camille that she could move down here but that I would move too, and we would continue to share custody of Kirsten, and hopefully our daughter’s life wouldn’t suffer too much due to her parents’ immaturity.”
“Kirsten seems like a very well-grounded seven-year-old.”
He smiles now. “She is wonderful, isn’t she?”
“Very mature for her age.”
“Unfortunately, I think divorce does that to kids—forces them to grow up too soon.”
I consider this, thinking that the death of a parent isn’t so different when you’re still a kid, but I don’t mention it. This is his story, not mine.
“Shortly after we got settled down here, my mom missed Kirsten and me so much that I encouraged her to move down as well.”
“Ah, yes. And I hear that she’s friends with Betty.”
“Yes, they’re neighbors in the same condo unit.” He chuckles. “When I started working for your dad, I thought maybe he and Mom might hit it off. He sort of reminded me of my own dad, but while your dad and my mom are good friends, there’s no spark.”
“No spark…” I smile. “Well, fortunately there seems to be some spark with Betty. Dad was so happy to hear from her today. Her call was good medicine.”
We both seem to be finished eating. All his food has vanished, and although I still have fries and some shake left, I’m stuffed.
“I guess I told you all that because I wanted to encourage you. My story proves that it’s true what they say: God really does work in mysterious ways, and I know that’s going to wind up true with your house flip too. I could tell you were starting to feel overwhelmed back at the house, and I wanted to say that things will work out, in whatever way is best from God’s perspective. It was only after going through all that hard stuff—my job, my marriage, the possibility of losing my daughter—that I learned how to
let go of things…and just trust God. Does that make any sense?”
“Of course.” I feel slightly defensive now. “I mean, I’m a Christian too. And I try to trust God with things. But I guess this house flip—what with Dad being indisposed and the pressure of the loan—well, it’s been freaking me out. I suppose I seem kind of stressed to you.” I suddenly wonder if his whole talk wasn’t meant to be some sort of a lesson to me. Not that it was a sermon exactly, but he did seem to be making a point.
“But what if you chose to hand this house flip over to God?”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I’ve thought of that.”
“It’s natural to be worried about the details. But if you give your worries to God … well, it’s just a lot better.” He looks slightly uncomfortable now. “Sorry, I seem to be preaching at you. I’ve been told that it’s a weakness of mine.”
“I know what you’re saying is true. And I’d like to be, you know, more like that…” I look down at the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious and ill at ease, like I just used the wrong fork or said something idiotic or made some serious fashion faux pas like walking out of the bathroom with the hem of my skirt caught in my panties. These are the sorts of things that usually cause me embarrassment. But this is different. I am feeling uncomfortable about not being a more faithful Christian. More like him. This is a surprising development.
I try to absorb all of what he’s said, so I sit there quietly for a moment, and he lets me. “So are you saying that if my house flip totally flops or my dad loses his condo, after losing his health, that I should be happy?”
“I’m just saying that we need to trust God with all parts of our lives. Otherwise, we’ll never be really happy. I know this personally.”
Now Henry is approaching our table, looking at me with a concerned expression. “Was everything okay, Gretchen?”
I realize my face must look like I just ate a dill pickle, so I force a big smile. “Hey, it was better than okay, Henry. It was fantastic.”
He points to my unfinished food. “But you didn’t clean your plate.”
“Trust me, I’m stuffed.” Then I introduce Henry to Noah.
“And I’m going to be a regular here too,” Noah promises. “It’s great having a place in town that caters to something besides all that health-crazed California cuisine.”
Henry laughs. “My thoughts exactly. Although, just so you know, I do have some heart-healthy choices on the menu as well. Including a buffalo burger with really low cholesterol.”
“Seriously?” I say. “My dad just had bypass heart surgery, and he loves an occasional burger. He’ll be stoked.”
“Why don’t you take him a menu?” suggests Henry. “I have some to-go ones by the door.”
“I’ll do that. Dad was envious that I was coming here tonight,” I admit. “He wondered if you do takeout or delivery.”
“We do takeout, and I’m considering delivery.”
“Great. And I’ll take the check whenever it’s ready,” I tell him. He looks mildly surprised, but I tell him it was a prearranged agreement.
“Yeah, we had a deal,” says Noah, winking at me.
“Unless you want dessert,” I offer. “I’m not trying to rush you.”
“Yes, we do have a tempting dessert menu,” says Henry.
Noah leans back and pats his stomach. “Not this time.”
After I pay the bill, Noah walks me across the street to Dad’s pickup and thanks me for dinner.
“And thank you for sharing your story,” I say. “I’m sorry if I acted like I didn’t appreciate it at the end.”
“And my apologies if I came on too strong. Some of my friends have accused me of wanting to become a preacher, which I honestly have no interest in.”
I teasingly shake my finger at him. “Never say no to God.”
“You too.”
“Right … and I’ll admit that the idea of trusting God with all this house business sounds good. I’m just not quite there yet.”
He grins. “Well, God has amazing ways of getting us places.”
I roll my eyes as I imagine God taking me through a variety of trials similar to what Noah experienced. “Okay, that’s a scary concept.”
Noah laughs, then looks at me more seriously. “By the way, I was going to say something earlier. But before I forget, you look really pretty tonight, Gretchen.”
I give him what probably looks like an embarrassed smile, and my cheeks grow warmer. “Oh, that was Holly’s doing. She came by my apartment to pick something up, and, well, she’s kind of a fashion freak. Anyway, before I knew what hit me, Holly gave me a mini-makeover.”
He just nods. “Well, you look great, but don’t get me wrong. I happen to think you look great in your working overalls too.”
I feel my whole face getting hot now. This is more than I want to hear. And yet I’m loving it! Really, what is up with me? But I simply tell him that I better get home. “In fact, I’ll bet Holly left my closet door open. For all I know Riley might be polishing off one of my favorite shoes right this minute.”
As I drive home, I try not to think too hard about this evening. Certainly it was sweet of Noah to share his story with me. But hearing all about his personal life, his relationship with Camille—well, it was almost an informational, or maybe an emotional, overload. I don’t think I was ready for it.
I decide to just shove it all aside for the time being. Like Riley with a bone, I’ll just bury it somewhere. Then I turn on Dad’s radio and am not surprised to find that it’s tuned to his favorite country-western station, the kind that plays tunes going clear back to the fifties. Even so, I leave it on and listen as some old cowboy croons out one of those you-done-me-wrong kind of songs. And even though I’m not normally a country music fan, this one has some rather interesting lyrics. I think it sums up Noah’s experiences with Camille just about perfectly. And then I feel irritated to realize that, despite my resolve, I am thinking about Noah again.
Hello there,” calls a petite brunette who is, Im guessing, about my age. I’m beginning to unload the pickup when she and a little boy approach me from across the street with a plate of something. “I’m so glad you bought this house,” she says. “And I just want to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m Jenna Stein, and this is Cory.”
“Thank you,” I say, staring at what appear to be homemade oatmeal cookies. It’s nearly two, and because I was crazily running errands the past couple of hours, I forgot to take a lunch break. And right now my mouth is watering so much that I’m afraid I’m about to imitate one of Riley’s long drools. “I’m Gretchen Hanover.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shakes her head with disgust. “I’m sure the house was as nasty inside as out. I mean, the other neighbors were total pigs.”
“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” I say as we continue up to the front door together. I’m hoping she doesn’t want to come inside for a tour—not that there’s much to see, but there is much to do. Already it’s Thursday of the third week, and I’m seriously behind schedule.
“Is that your husband’s construction company?” she asks, nodding to Dad’s pickup. “Hanover Construction? Because we’re looking for someone to do some remodeling in our—”
“No,” I say quickly. “That’s actually my dads truck. He’s a retired contractor. And he had a heart attack recently. I’m just borrowing the truck while he’s recuperating.”
“Oh yes, I heard that an ambulance was here. I was at Cory’s school that day. Im sorry about your father. Is he doing okay?”
I pause by the front door, quickly explaining his surgery and that he gets released from the hospital tomorrow. I’m trying not to show my impatience; she seems really nice, and I don’t want to be rude.
“Oh, that’s good. And I’m sure it must be handy having two pickups during your remodel.” She smiles and hands the plate of cookies to me. “I made these this morning while it was still cool. Anyway, we’re just so thrilled to finally have some good neighbor
s. Did you know that a lot of people on this street sold their homes just to get away from the family who lived here?”
“That’s too bad.” I open the door behind me, as in “Hint, hint, got work to do.”
“And their kids were really mean,” says Cory in a serious tone. “Jason pushed me off my bike one time.” I look at him sympathetically.
“Well, I’m hoping this will turn things around for our neighborhood now.” Jenna smiles happily. “Already I’m planning to do some landscaping in front, and maybe I’ll paint the exterior. Then, later on, if we can find a trustworthy contractor, I’d like to do some upgrades in the kitchen.” She peeks over my shoulder now. “Wow, you guys really are tearing into this place. I can’t wait to see how it looks when it’s done.”
“We’ll be having an open house,” I tell her. “You’re welcome to come.”
“Fantastic! Let me know what I can bring.”
Suddenly it occurs to me that she assumes I bought this house to live in. I’m about to set her straight, but she takes Cory by the hand and announces that she doesn’t want to be a pest and then waves and dashes back across the street to the yellow house that actually does need a paint job. Oh well. I’ll have to clarify later.
“Who was that?” asks Noah as he emerges from where he’s been putting down the subflooring in the bathroom.
“A neighbor named Jenna,” I tell him, holding out the plate of cookies. “Help yourself.”
“Nice neighbor.” He grins and takes a cookie.
“Yeah. But I think I gave her the wrong impression.”
“Huh?” He asks with a mouthful of cookie.
“Well, it seems she thinks I bought this house to live here. She’s really excited to have good’ neighbors.”
“Oh well,” he says, reaching for a second cookie. “Eventually they will have good neighbors, don’t you think?” He smacks his lips now. “Sure could use a cold glass of milk with these.”
“I don’t think milk would be too cold in that cooler,” I point out. “In fact, I was wondering about ordering the refrigerator so we could use it while we’re working here.”
A Mile in My Flip-Flops Page 16