South. Sun. Warmth. Julie tipped her head back to see the gathering New Hampshire clouds, gray and ominous. A sharp wind blew across her face, and she knew there’d be snowfall by midday.
It was hard to imagine that behind the heavy clouds the sun blazed against a blue sky. It’d been weeks since the sun broke over White Birch.
Ethan, please come. Julie fingered her cell phone, debating whether to call him. She wanted to hear his voice but didn’t want to argue.
Their curt conversation from last night echoed in her head.
“Julie,” he’d told her, “we have to live by Lambert’s Code.”
“So you’ve said. But just what is that, Ethan?”
Arms akimbo, he’d answered, “Submitting to one another. Yielding what we want for the good of both of us.”
“Both of us?” Julie sat on the couch in the formal living room, head in her hands. She’d struggled with resentment each time he visited.
“Both, I guess.” He leaned against the pass-through to the dining room, his eyes intent on a painting that hung on the south wall.
“So how do we do that?” she’d asked.
“Don’t go to Florida.” He must have said that a dozen times in the last week.
She would always respond the same. “Don’t go to Costa Rica.”
“I’ve paid money, promised Steve.”
“And I’ve made a commitment to Kit. I’m the cellist.”
The vicious cycle started all over, and Julie’s resentment remained. She prayed their time apart would help her see things more clearly. Oh Lord, help us.
Kit came around the back of the van, slipped her long, slender arm around Julie’s shoulders, and brought her back into the present.
“Ready to go?” She smiled. “It’s going to be fun. Maybe even remove that dark cloud hanging over your head.”
Julie widened her eyes. “What dark cloud?” She thought she’d done a fair job of hiding her soul from Kit and the rest of the quartet.
“The one that’s been raining on you since the day I met you.” Kit placed her hand under Julie’s chin. “Whatever it is, the Lord is your umbrella, my dear.”
Tears smarted in her eyes, and the knot in her throat prevented her from answering.
“All right. Let’s go.” Kit motioned to Mike and Cassie. “Wagon ho!”
Wagon ho. Julie climbed into the van and took a seat in the back, her cell phone in hand. She autodialed Ethan’s office number, and a nervous energy coursed through her as his phone rang over and over. She hated the feeling of timidity that held her. I’m calling my husband, not my enemy.
When his voice mail picked up, she pressed End and slipped her phone into her coat pocket.
Situated in the driver’s seat, Kit glanced in the rearview mirror, smiling at Julie. “Florida, here we come.”
❧
Ethan honked his car’s horn. The light had turned green at least five seconds ago. He sat behind Jasper O’Donnell, whose ’78 Plymouth sputtered and choked when the old man pressed on the gas.
“Come on, Jasper. I’ll miss her.” Ethan clenched his jaw and the wheel. Honking at the senior White Birch citizen wouldn’t change the situation. It wasn’t Jasper’s fault Ethan waited until the eleventh hour to see Julie off.
Finally Jasper cleared the lane, and Ethan whipped around him with a left turn. A speed limit sign caught his attention. He touched the brake to slow the car, but his heart raced forward.
A ten-minute drive down I-85, followed by a right turn and a left, and Kit’s house came into view. Instantly Ethan knew. He’d missed her. He drove around the corner just to make sure that the van wasn’t parked on the other side. It wasn’t.
Julie’s car sat alone in the driveway.
Ethan parked in the street. Stepping out, he stared down the road before him, straining to catch sight of the van in the distance.
Nothing.
He unhooked his cell phone from his belt to check for missed calls. There were none. Why didn’t she call me?
He peered down the road again, and heaviness settled over him. “Why didn’t you see her off, Ethan?” he muttered.
He wanted to be mad at his wife, but he couldn’t. They were both playing this game and losing.
With a heavy sigh, he got in his car as large white snowflakes fluttered from the heavens.
❧
Back in the office, Ethan called Steve Tripleton. “How’s Costa Rica looking?”
“Fine, just fine. Arrangements are all made.”
Ethan picked a piece of lint from his light wool gray slacks. “Nonrefundable deposits, right?”
“That’s right.”
Ethan could hear the question in Steve’s tone. Are you reconsidering?
“We’re looking forward to this trip. Weather’s great down there this time of year.”
Ethan sighed. “I’m sure it is.”
Fifteen
“Dinner stop.”
Julie roused from the backseat where she dozed.
“Hungry?” Kit reached through the middle seat and smoothed her hand over Julie’s arm.
“Uh-huh.” Julie stepped out of the van and brushed her hair with her fingers, her eyes squinting. “Where are we?” She stretched. From the chill in the air, she knew they hadn’t reached the Mason-Dixon Line.
“Virginia,” Kit said.
With Cassie, Julie shuffled into the restaurant, her stomach rumbling.
A day’s drive away from home and she missed Ethan, already starting to see things in a different light. She felt guilty and disappointed that she’d stiff-armed him out of her life by living at Bobby and Elle’s the past few weeks. Subtly they’d tried to urge her to return home and work things out, but she stubbornly resisted.
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken this trip. What if I’ve caused a permanent rift in my marriage?
Her stomach twisted with the thought. Lord, I shouldn’t have surrendered to my resentment. I should have surrendered to You. Elle’s right. I can’t blame Ethan.
Cassie nudged her. “What do you want to eat? Kit’s buying.”
Julie studied the value meals over the counter, hungrier than she realized. “I’ll take a number three.”
With a nod, Cassie completed the order. Julie grabbed some napkins, straws, and ketchup packets and found a relatively clean table.
Waiting for the others, Julie checked her cell phone for messages or missed calls. There were none.
Oh, Ethan, what are we doing? Without hesitation, she dialed home.
“Here we go.” Cassie came to the table with a loaded tray. Kit and Mike followed with large sodas.
Julie pressed End. She didn’t want to have her first away conversation in front of an audience. She barely knew Cassie and Mike, though Kit seemed to perceive things about Julie she didn’t intend to reveal.
“Are you awake, love?” Kit asked, sitting next to her, passing her a wrapped burger.
“Getting there.” The grilled food teased her senses and stirred her appetite.
Kit gave her a motherly hug, one arm around her shoulders. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”
Julie bit off the end of her fry. “What things?”
Kit shrugged. “Oh, life things.” She smiled at Julie before regaling the group about her cousin and the upcoming wedding.
Kit’s cousin, marrying for the third time at fifty, had planned an extravaganza.
“So why’d the other quartet back out?” Julie asked.
Kit winked. “If I know Tina Marie, she backed them out to give us a chance to play. I’ll bet my viola that she convinced them it was their idea to quit, too.”
The quartet members laughed.
“Remind me to look out for Tina Marie,” Cassie said, attitude accenting her words.
Kit waved off the woman’s concern. “No need. She’ll be looking out for you.”
Finished with her burger, Julie excused herself for the ladies’ room. There, she retrieved her cell and diale
d home. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. “You’ve reached Ethan and Julie. We can’t come to the phone. Leave a message.” Beep!
Julie hesitated. Do I leave a message? Suddenly the words tumbled out.
“Hi, Ethan. It’s me. We stopped for dinner, and I thought I’d call. Guess you’re not home. Call me later if you want. Bye.”
She hung up before she said what she really wanted to say. She hadn’t uttered those three simple words in weeks: I love you.
Julie returned to the van where Cassie took a turn behind the wheel. Mike and Kit prattled on about a new sci-fi show airing in the fall. Julie half listened, sure Ethan knew about this show’s debut.
She wanted to call him again. So in the dim lights of the highway, she dialed his cell. After several rings, his voice mail answered.
Ethan, where are you? What are you doing? She didn’t leave a message this time. He’s probably at the rec center.
“So, Julie, do you have children?” Mike suddenly turned his attention to her.
A recent college grad, the young man was in his early twenties, Julie figured, but his angular face and grandiose brown eyes made him appear younger.
Julie cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.” She faked a smile.
Mike matched her smile with a wide, toothy grin. “Guess not. One last hurrah before the kids come, eh?”
A prickly sensation traveled down her arms, and she counted her heartbeats, wanting to scream at Mike for being so nosy, but how could she? He didn’t know.
“My husband and I can’t have children.” I can’t have children.
At this, Kit and Cassie twisted around to see her. Mike tightened his lips and looked forward.
Kit deftly changed the subject. “Anyone want to charge their cell phones?” She held a cable over her head. “My cell is all charged.”
Julie lurched forward. “Oh, me, please.” She wanted to keep her phone on and charged in case Ethan called.
“Okay, Julie.” Kit took her phone. After a moment, she said, “My charger doesn’t fit your phone, love. Did you bring your charger along?” Kit arched around in the passenger seat.
In the blue and red lights of the dashboard, Julie could see the concern etched on her face. “No, I didn’t.” Ethan always remembered those things. Wonderful, organized Ethan.
Moisture clouded her vision as Kit handed back her phone. I won’t cry; I won’t.
❧
Ethan banged around in the kitchen, not sure what to do with himself. Home didn’t feel like home. How many times in the past ten years had he rattled around their big apartment by himself? Hundreds. But he’d never felt alone—and lonely.
He went into the living room and upped the volume on the television; the noise of the game provided some kind of company.
Wandering back to the kitchen, he opened and closed cupboards, yanked open the refrigerator, then the freezer. Sparse. Not much in the way of eats. He found a frozen dinner on the bottom shelf and decided to nuke it.
Four minutes later, he dumped the contents of the package onto a plate, steam rising from a small pile of meat and rice. Ethan took a sniff and wrinkled his nose.
“Good eating.” He dug a fork from the silverware drawer and sat on the couch.
He ate but didn’t taste, mostly swirling his food around on the plate. He scraped the remains in the trash, rinsed his plate, dropped it in the dishwasher, and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Emptying the last of the milk into his glass, Ethan returned to the living room.
He flipped through the channels and fidgeted in his chair like an antsy five-year-old.
This is ridiculous. With a sigh, he clicked off the TV.
He missed Julie. A lot. He didn’t mind her evenings out or her busy schedule, because she always came home to him. Since he was eighteen, he’d never known home without her melodic presence. The weeks she stayed at Bobby and Elle’s he’d missed her, too, but she was in town, just a short drive away.
Now she was hours and hours away.
He rinsed the milk glass and tucked it away in the dishwasher. He checked the time. Three hours before a reasonable bedtime.
Ethan wandered to the den and fetched a pad of paper and pen. Returning to his chair in the living room, he doodled between the thin lines, feeling melancholy, forming his thoughts and emotions into words. Time ticked away while he wrote.
Missing Julie
I cannot sleep, longing to be away
And wandering a forest trail I know
On a clear night, and cool, when there is snow
As fine as powder, deep, and some would stay
Balanced on all the branches as they sway
Against the icy breezes that would blow
Great drifts into the valley far below
Where in the summertime a stream would lay
But it is winter now, when all is still
Across a great expanse of starry sky
The lonely moon rides pale into the dawn
And I would sit alone upon a hill
Bundled against the night, and wonder why
I am this way whenever you are gone
Ethan read the poem aloud. “Eth, man, you miss your wife.” He tossed the poem into an end table drawer and banged it shut.
He unclipped his cell phone from his belt with an idea that she might have called and just left a message. With a quick glance, he saw his phone was turned off. “Ah, I forgot to turn it on after the town council meeting. . . .” He’d gone with Will and Bobby to get approval to build their new warehouse since it butted up against city property.
Ethan powered on the phone and checked for messages. Nothing.
Restless, he wandered back to her music room. It felt empty and abandoned. He thought how accustomed he’d become to her playing. He hardly heard her anymore.
Now that she wasn’t here, the silence was deafening. Wasn’t he normally busier than this? He’d brought work home two or three evenings a week for over a year now. But tonight, he didn’t even pack up his laptop. No games to play, no company business, no wife.
“Julie, what’s happening to us?” Ethan considered the last few years, the strain and stress, the pain of waiting and wondering, the sadness of Dr. Patterson’s news, her confession of resentment.
“Lord, I lean on You. Submit to You.” Suddenly he sensed the Holy Spirit whisper, “Ephesians 5.”
Lambert’s Code. Ethan jogged upstairs for his Bible. He found it on the nightstand under a slight covering of dust. Propping against the pillows, he opened the Good Book.
After reading chapter 5 from Ephesians, he understood he didn’t always encourage Julie as a husband should. He certainly didn’t submit any of his decisions to her. Most of the time, he told her what he planned without consideration of her wants or needs. And as for loving her as Christ loved the church. . .
Not even close. No wonder she resents me.
“Lord, teach me. I want to walk in unity and submission with Julie. We need our lives to be submitted to You—and each other.”
He didn’t need another tap on his heart to know he had to honor her or his prayers would be hindered. After all, she was a coheir in the same grace of the Lord he walked in.
Meditating on this notion, he prayed for wisdom, prayed for Julie, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the house phone rang.
He answered the portable on the bedside table, his heart resounding. Julie! “Hello?”
“Ethan, what’s up?” Will’s question bounced over the line.
He grinned. “Not much. Sitting around praying. Thinking.”
“Oh, man, sorry to interrupt. I’ll catch you later.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m almost done.”
“I had a taste for some of Sam’s pie. You interested?”
“If you’d seen my dinner, you wouldn’t even ask. I’ll meet you there.”
Ethan hopped off the bed, grateful for the company. He slipped on his boots and started downsta
irs when he remembered the diner’s cold temperature. Sam walked around sweating while the patrons shivered. So unless he wanted to eat with his coat on, he’d need a pullover.
Stepping into the closet, Ethan hunted for his navy merino wool sweater, a Christmas present from his mom the year he turned sixteen. It had always been a favorite garment, but even more so in recent years. I can still wear a sweater from my high school days. Got to be a favorite.
“Weird.” He flipped through the sweaters on the hangers, then the ones folded in his bureau drawer. The sweater was missing.
One last time, he checked the closet. Then a light dawned. Julie. She loved that sweater more than he did. They’d actually tossed a coin to determine who had rights to it one cold winter day.
With a warm heart, he reached for his university sweatshirt. Tonight his sweater kept Julie warm. So in some small way, so did he.
He hurried downstairs, retrieved his keys, and autodialed Julie’s cell on his way out the door.
By the time he arrived at the diner, he’d left her two voice mails. Why she didn’t answer her phone mystified him, and he wondered if their relationship would ever recover.
Sixteen
The sun’s golden hues kissed the dawning sky over the north Florida beach. Julie faced the ocean, Ethan’s navy sweater guarding her from the chilly, salty air.
“Did you think Florida would be so cold at the end of March?”
Julie turned to see Kit walking toward her, barefoot and smiling. The breeze whipped her long flowered skirt around her ankles and wisps of her gray hair about her face.
“It’s marvelous. Imagine being in New Hampshire right now. Cold, gray, depressing.” Julie lifted her face to the morning light.
For the first time in weeks, her head felt clear. The ruins of her mind were swept away with the dawn of a new day.
“Do you miss Ethan?”
Julie faced her, noting that Kit didn’t bother to cloak her question with formalities. “Yes, I do.”
“What’s troubling you two?” Kit linked her arm with Julie’s and started walking.
“Things.” Cold, soggy sand squished between Julie’s toes.
“I could tell something darkened your soul from the moment I met you. Is it the having children issue?”
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