She met his gaze.
“But your marriage is about more than having children. You two need to work together, communicate, live by Lambert’s Code.”
Julie tossed her used tissue onto the table. “What’s Lambert’s Code?”
“Submitting to each another. Yielding. Considering each other’s opinion and concerns.”
She smirked and said halfheartedly, “Now you tell me.”
“Never too late to start,” Grandpa said.
“Julie, your identity in life is not in children or cars.” Grandma closed her Bible but kept her finger between the pages. “It’s about how much Jesus loves you. If all else fails, His love will not.”
Julie winced. “I know it in my head; I’m just not confident in my heart.”
Grandpa narrowed his eyes and tipped his head to one side. “Did you get a good deal on the car?”
With a half grin, she answered, “As a matter of fact, I did.”
Grandma stood. “Julie, pray and ask for understanding on what it means to submit, to yield to one another. You and Ethan should row in unison, not in opposite directions.”
She was right. So why did Julie find it so hard to grasp? Why did God’s voice seem so far away, so small?
Grandma took Julie’s hand and pulled her off the sofa. “It’s late. Go home. Talk to your husband.”
“All right. Thank you.”
At the bottom of the long Lambert driveway, Julie turned right toward the covered bridge instead of left toward home.
She parked the crimson car under the shadows of the old landmark. Lovers’ initials were etched in the bridge’s wide rafters for all time. EB loves LJ. Tommy loves Cindy 12–7–60.
Ethan had climbed to the top and carved their initials into the dark wood ten years ago. Julie wandered the length of the bridge and stood under the spot where she thought he’d made their mark.
With the slow trickle of the river in her ears, she prayed, asking the Lord for wisdom—and a yielded heart.
Eleven
Ethan sat in the dim light of the television, flicking through the channels, one after another, looking but not seeing.
The program guide channel told him it was ten thirty, and he grew more agitated with each second that ticked away.
Julie, where are you?
For the second time this month, she didn’t answer her cell phone. She couldn’t have gone too far with her car parked at the theater. He made a note to have it towed, again, tomorrow.
Out of desperation, he hunted down Sophia’s number to see if Julie was with her. Sure enough, she’d seen Julie earlier but had no idea where she was now.
When he heard the small click of the front door, he leaped out of his seat. His emotions rumbled with anger and relief.
“Did you forget your cell phone?” He met her by the hall closet. He fired the question but kept his voice low and steady.
“It was in my purse.” Julie eased the closet door shut, her movement stiff, her attitude guarded.
“Where were you? I almost called Jeff.”
Julie walked past him with no more explanation. “Is he on duty tonight?” She flipped on the light over the stove and tugged open the refrigerator.
“Julie, where were you?” Ethan stood in front of the open refrigerator door and peered into her face.
Julie’s posture stiffened. “Excuse me, I want something to eat.” She shoved him aside.
The last time she acted like this, she had just found out they couldn’t have children. What happened this time?
He touched her arm. “Please tell me where you were. You scare me when you disappear and don’t answer your phone.”
Julie faced him, her chin high. Wisps of her sleek blond hair, freed from her ponytail, fluttered above her narrowed green eyes.
“I bought a car.”
Ethan drew back. His jaw tightened as he held his tone in check. “You bought a car?”
“Yes, I got tired of driving that broken-down heap. Now you know.” She brushed past him for the stairs.
Ethan went after her. “How can you buy a car without talking to me?”
“If you wanted something, you’d buy it.” She kicked off her winter boots and slipped from her jeans.
“Not something that huge, Jules. Give me some credit. What did you buy?”
“A Honda S2000. They had one of last year’s models on the lot. I got a good deal.” She lifted her gaze for a split second to meet his, then disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.
“A Honda S2000? Are you kidding?”
A muffled “No” came through the door.
Ethan balled his fists and took a deep breath. Lord, help me out here. I want to understand her, but please. . .a Honda S2000?
He slowly opened the door and propped himself against the door frame. “Julie, why?”
She faced him, wielding her toothbrush in the air. “Oh, I don’t know. I can’t have a baby, so how ’bout a car? I was tired of that broken-down heap.” Julie snapped around to the sink and resumed brushing her teeth.
“Don’t be mad at me; I’m trying to understand.” Ethan stepped farther into the bathroom. “What are the monthly payments? What’s the gas mileage, insurance, and maintenance? Did you make a down payment?”
He watched his wife through the mirror. “Julie?”
She rinsed and dropped her toothbrush into the holder. “They took my old car title as a down payment. Plus, I’ll be playing in a quartet with Kit Merewether. That money will help cover the expenses.”
“Quartet? What quartet?” Ethan sighed, his anger fading with the realization that his relationship with Julie was on shifting sand. “When will you be doing that?”
She sat on her side of the bed with her brush. “Not sure, but I told her Mondays were best for me.”
“Were you going to talk to me about this?”
“Sure, but, Ethan, you’re at the rec center most Mondays. What does it matter?” She brushed her thick hair with fast, strong strokes, then crawled into bed and set her alarm. “Were you going to talk to me about your next sports deal thing?”
As a matter of fact, yes. But he was too frustrated to bring up Costa Rica now. “Your clothes are still on the floor.”
She sighed and climbed out of bed. She picked up her jeans and top and dropped them over the back of the rocker. She tossed her boots into the closet. “Happy?”
“Yes. Thank you. Where are the keys?”
She got back into bed. “In my purse.”
“You knew you were buying a stick shift, right?”
“Yes.” She held his gaze.
“You hate driving my — Never mind.” Ethan took the stairs down two at a time. He grabbed his coat and fished the keys from Julie’s handbag.
Outside, snow fell again. Ah, Lord, the winter of my discontent. His breath hung in the air like miniclouds, and sure enough, there under the amber glow of the parking lot lights sat a brand-new sports car, the convertible top buried under winter’s tears.
❧
Julie listened to Ethan’s quick, decisive movements as he thundered down the stairs, found her keys, and opened the hall closet.
When the front door slammed, she slipped under the covers and tried not to think of anything, anything at all.
This is not how she meant the night to go. He had a right to know where she was, but Julie had struggled with feeling defensive and irritated during the ride home. When she walked into the apartment, Ethan’s tone pushed her to the edge.
Awake in the dark, she tried to put her finger on when the rocky moments became more frequent and more devastating. Their pursuit of a pregnancy strained their marriage instead of bringing them closer. She saw now that they leaned on their own hopes and not the Lord. To deal with the letdowns, they retreated into their own private worlds.
All the time, money, and emotional energy spent trying to conceive seemed to haunt them now. How stressful life became when they lived month to month, year to year, hope giving
way to hopelessness, only to hope again. In the end, barrenness was the final judgment.
Julie rolled onto her side, wiping her cheeks with the edge of the pillowcase. Worse than the barrenness of her body was the growing desert between her and Ethan.
“God,” Julie whispered in the dark, “I’m sorry about my attitude and that I bought the car without talking to him first—or You.”
She pictured Ethan driving the new car, and a wave of guilt splashed against the sandy slope of her emotions. Wasn’t she taking charge of her life? Grandpa’s code came to mind. Submit to one another. Yield. They hadn’t lived by that standard in a long time, if ever.
Restless, Julie threw back the covers and crossed the cold hardwood floor to gather her robe and slippers.
Music. She needed music. In the spare bedroom where she practiced and taught her private students, she lifted the cello from its case and rosined her bow.
She played freely, dissonant chords reflecting the sadness of her heart. This will never do. I need to worship.
Julie padded to the living room where her Bible sat on the end table. Back in the bedroom, she opened it to the Psalms.
With precise, well-trained movements, she used music to verbalize the words on the page. I will lift up my eyes to the hills—from whence comes my help?
The cello’s soft melodies engaged her heart, and Julie released her burdens as God’s Word saturated her soul.
❧
Ethan searched the Internet for a weekend retreat in upper New Hampshire or Vermont. He and Julie needed an escape from work, music students, string quartets, bad doctor reports, and impulse car buying.
They needed to huddle up, talk, pray, and map out a new plan for their lives. Ethan regretted the Sundays they’d slept in, ate pancakes and bacon for breakfast, and read the paper instead of worshiping God at White Birch Community Church. Now that he needed God’s strength and wisdom in his life, he realized the shallowness of his reserve.
A light knock on the office door drew his attention. “Grandpa. Come in.” He stood, smiling.
Grandpa moved past his outstretched hand and embraced him. “Working hard?”
Ethan sighed. “Pretending to.”
Grandpa sat in the adjacent chair. “How do you like your new car?”
Ethan rocked back in his desk chair. “You mean Julie’s new car?”
Grandpa nodded once. “I saw her sporting around town in that thing. Very nice.”
“Sure it’s nice. It’ll cost us a week of her salary every month.”
It had been over a week since Julie came home with her new toy, and the atmosphere in the apartment was cordial but chilly.
Grandpa whistled. “I suppose you’re keeping it.”
Ethan stood and stretched, then perched on the edge of his desk. “We have to. She has no other means of transportation. Plus, with the depreciation of the car once the tires hit the streets, we’d lose money if we traded it in. It’s not worth arguing over anymore.”
“You figure out Lambert’s Code yet?” Grandpa regarded Ethan as he asked the million-dollar question.
“Other than submit to one another?” Ethan searched his grandfather’s face for the keys to his wisdom. “I have an idea, I think.”
Grandpa gave Ethan another single nod. “What’s on your computer screen?” The older Lambert got up and walked around the desk.
Ethan enlarged the view with a mouse click. “Looking for a weekend away for Julie and me. I thought we could ski.”
Grandpa slapped him on the back. “Good thinking.”
Ethan peered up at him. “Am I on track for cracking the code?”
Grandpa rocked back on his heels. “You’re on your way. But it’s more than a weekend ski trip.”
Ethan grinned. “Good to know.”
“Dig deeper, son. By the way, Will owns a cabin up north. Why don’t you ask him if you can use it?”
Ethan brightened. “I forgot about Will’s cabin. That’d be nice and inexpensive.”
“Don’t know about nice, but certainly inexpensive. If you ask me, you have other business to take care of with Julie besides skiing.”
Ethan chuckled, but he didn’t need a mirror to tell him a red hue crept across his cheeks.
Twelve
Julie lay in Ethan’s arms, gazing at the glowing embers of the fire. The heat from the wide stone fireplace warmed her face and hands. The biggest log crackled and started to burn.
“This was a great idea, babe,” she said, lifting her eyes to see his face.
He kissed the top of her head while weaving her hair through his fingers. “I imagined some place nicer, but—”
Julie snickered. “Will told you it was a hunting cabin.”
“It’s a dump.” Ethan grinned at her.
“Come on, it has a fireplace and plenty of rustic character. What more do we need?”
Ethan drew her to him and kissed her cheek, then her lips. “All I need is right here, in my arms. Kings envy me.”
“And the queens?” Julie tweaked the square end of his chin.
“Queens envy you. You’re beautiful.”
Julie loved the word beautiful coming from his lips. The word skipped across her mind and into her heart.
“Julie?”
“Hmm?” She felt so peaceful it was hard to stay awake.
“Want to talk about anything? Babies, cars?”
Julie’s heart thumped. For a minute, she’d managed to forget.
“No.” She sat up and drew her knees to her chin, staring at the fire. The large log burned steadily.
Ethan scooted closer to her. “I think we should.”
Julie pondered the events of the past few weeks.
“How are you dealing with this new curve in our life? Really dealing.”
She grinned. “Besides buying sports cars?”
He nuzzled her cheek. “Yes.”
“How do you deal with a heartbreak this deep? With a dream that will never come true?”
“I wonder the same thing.” Ethan rose from the pallet and ambled to the dented fridge situated in the corner of the room. “I feel disappointed and sad, not sure where to go from here.”
Julie sensed his sadness. “That’s how I feel.” Guilty, too. No matter what Ethan said about them being in this together, it was her body that betrayed them.
“You never told me why you bought the car, especially that car.” Ethan bent to look in the fridge. “Do you want something?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“So why?” Ethan asked again, returning to their pallet with a soda in his hand.
Julie shrugged. “Life was changing, out of my control. I wanted to forget the past and press on to the future.”
Ethan leaned against the couch cushions. “Oddly enough, Jules, that makes sense to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt. It’s hard to speak my heart sometimes.” She grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it.
“I know.”
“We need to tell our parents someday soon, I guess,” she said with a sigh.
Ethan nodded, smoothing her fingers with his. “Your parents will take it hard.”
Julie moved to lay her head on his chest. “Do you want to adopt?”
He curled his arm around her. “It’s an option, but I. . .we have to have a heart to adopt, don’t we? I don’t want to adopt and say, ‘Problem solved,’ unless we know that’s a right choice for us.”
Julie tipped her head to see his face. By his tone and words, she could tell he’d pondered the situation.
“I agree,” she said, almost in a whisper.
“I was so confident we’d get pregnant again. Now I realize the miscarriage the first year of marriage—”
“We didn’t even realize I was pregnant.” Julie lifted her head. “Do you think if we’d known, maybe I wouldn’t have lost the baby?” The idea stirred her adrenaline.
“No, I don’t. What could we have done d
ifferently?”
But the notion stuck in Julie’s head. “I could have eaten better or taken vitamins. I think we averaged about six hours of sleep a night that summer.” More guilt surfaced and clung to her soul like seaweed on the shore.
Ethan held up his hand. “Stop. Julie, there’s nothing you could have done. We didn’t know.”
For a few seconds, Julie relived that one hot night nine years ago when she discovered she was pregnant and losing a baby at the same time. The joy was crushed by the heartache.
“I wonder how different our lives would be if that child had lived.”
“Don’t go there, sweetie. We can’t know. Besides, God has plans for us, right?”
“I want to believe He does.” Julie scooted over to the fireplace and wedged another log on the fire. She hated to see the hot embers die.
When she returned to Ethan, he pulled her down to him.
She laughed. “You have that look in your eye, Ethan Lambert.”
He kissed her, brushing her hair from her face. “What look?”
“You know what look.” Julie returned Ethan’s kiss and let her worries melt away in the light of the fire.
❧
Ethan made a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon on a two-burner hot plate. Julie curled up in a chair to watch, amused, wrapped in a thick blanket.
“You’re ready for your own cooking show, Eth.”
He grabbed the handle of the griddle and let go with a yelp. “Hot!”
Julie guffawed and slapped her leg.
Ethan grimaced, puffing on his hand with quick, short breaths. “Can Your Highness get some snow for my poor hand?”
Julie hopped up and found Will’s old tin bucket and filled it with snow. “Dunk your hand in this.”
“Ah, that’s better.”
“I guess those cheap burners don’t heat evenly.”
Ethan gaped at her. “Ya think?”
She popped him on the arm. “Don’t be smart.”
When he leaned to kiss her, the bucket of snow slid off the short counter. Cold snow covered Julie’s slippers.
“Watch it, Eth.” She laughed and bumped into him, kicking off her slippers.
“Julie, watch out for—”
With a loud clatter, the skillets tumbled to the floor. Half-cooked eggs and pancake batter oozed across the rough-hewn wood and dripped between the cracks.
Lambert's Code Page 8