by Gary Smalley
Tears dropped down onto the page. He wiped his eyes again and looked at her. Please look at me, Marilyn. She was still looking out toward the kitchen, but he saw a single tear roll down her cheek. “I’ve been thinking, after this storm is over, I’m going to move out, find a place to live till you make up your mind about what you’re going to do. This is your house too. You should stay here. I know that’ll make Doug happy too.”
Nothing was said for the next few minutes. Felt like an hour. “Well . . . thanks for letting me say all that. I really am so sorry. So very, very sorry.” Just then, the power came back on and all the lights. The TV too. “That didn’t last too long,” he said, trying to break the ice. He wished she would look at him, say something.
Finally, she spoke, eyes fixed on the TV. “Could we finish watching the movie?”
53
Later that night after they’d finished watching Casablanca, and sometime during a second movie, Sabrina, Hurricane Harold finally left the area. The torrential rains stopped. The winds dropped from hurricane force to tropical storm force, then to intermittent gusts.
Marilyn had missed Harold’s grand exit. When Harrison Ford’s character flew off to Paris trying to win Sabrina back, Jim looked over; Marilyn had fallen asleep on the couch. It was her favorite part of the movie, but he didn’t want to wake her. He brought out a pillow and blanket. Half asleep, she’d added their presence into whatever dream she was having, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
The next morning she walked around downstairs as if Jim had never read that letter to her. They went outside together and surveyed the damage, first in front on Elderberry Lane. Trees and limbs were down everywhere, up and down the street. But none of their oaks had fallen. Some big limbs were gone. There were some scuff marks here and there where branches had smacked against the side of the house. Jim couldn’t see a single shingle missing from the roof.
The biggest damage, of course, was the limb that had crushed Marilyn’s car. By lunchtime some neighbors with chain saws had made quick work of it. Putting her car in neutral, they were able to move it just enough so they could get to Jim’s and Doug’s cars. Doug had come home from Jason’s right around then to check in. He was in awe of the damage done to his mother’s car, less in awe of the news that he’d be riding his bike for the next few days. His mom needed to borrow his car until they could get her a rental while the insurance adjustors added everything up.
His joy returned when he’d learned his mom would be moving back in, at least for a while, and his dad would be moving out. It did Marilyn good to see Doug’s reaction. “See,” Jim had whispered to her. “If he was mad at you, he got over it.”
By day’s end, the River Oaks’ city workers and countless volunteers had the streets pretty well cleared of debris, at least enough for cars to pass by carefully in between piles of tree limbs and branches stacked head high on either side.
The electricity never did go out again. That fact had given Jim some hope that perhaps God really had set up that moment, just so he could tell Marilyn the things he needed to say. When it got dark, Jim took his final shower at the house, hoping he might be back before too long. He packed a few bags and told Marilyn he was going.
She was cleaning one of the many messes in the house that Jim had apparently made. “Did you hear me, Marilyn? I said I’m going.” She still didn’t answer. Was she ignoring him on purpose? Jim stood there a full minute, watching her. Well I guess that’s it, he thought, and he turned and headed toward the back door.
“Wait!” she yelled down the hallway, just as he opened the door. “I’ll walk you to the car.”
It was at least something. She followed him through the laundry room into the garage. Neither said a word. He turned to face her before getting into the car. She gave him a look he couldn’t read, so he got in and pushed the garage door button. He waved as he backed out. She hesitated, then waved back.
Just as he pulled onto the service road, she started saying something. He rolled his window down. “I’m glad you said what you said last night,” she said. “Really. I’m . . . I’m not ready to do anything about it just yet. But I will pray.”
It wasn’t what he had hoped to hear, but it was better than the awkward silence. “That’s okay, Marilyn. Just know I meant every word. Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
Of course, he was going somewhere, for now. He had decided not to rent a place, figuring their cash flow would take a big hit with the storm repairs. During the day he’d remembered that one of his properties—the one he’d been trying to get that doctor to lease—had a full bathroom in the biggest office. And a small kitchen area for employees. Jim had decided to sleep on a blow-up air mattress in that office for the next several days, and hoped that it wouldn’t turn into the next several weeks.
That, of course, wasn’t entirely up to him.
54
Over the next six days, Marilyn was able to shift her full attention from hurricane matters to Michele’s wedding. Tomorrow was the big day. In two hours, she and Michele would be leaving their house on Elderberry Lane and returning to Riverfront Park for the wedding rehearsal.
The park had sustained some damage in the storm. A few trees had fallen; quite a lot more sun now came in through openings created by fallen limbs. But there had been minimal flooding, and all of it had receded by Tuesday. City workers had the park all cleaned up and ready to go by this morning. The only setback was the gazebo. Half the shingles on one side of the roof had blown off. As of this morning, to Michele’s horror, a blue tarp had been placed over the damaged area to keep future rain from making things worse.
Marilyn had persuaded the park supervisor to let them take the tarp off until after the wedding. The weather was predicted to be clear and sunny all through the weekend. She’d promised they’d replace the tarp before they left the park tomorrow and headed to the reception hall.
She and Michele had just left the park after spending the afternoon putting up decorations. They were driving back to Elderberry Lane to get ready for the rehearsal and the dinner after. “It doesn’t look bad,” Marilyn said. “The gazebo roof, I mean. Really, you can hardly tell there’s any damage.”
“From the front,” Michele said.
“That’s the view that matters most, Michele. It could have been so much worse.”
“I know. I’m okay with it. It was just so perfect before. Now half the crowd is going to be sitting in the sun.” One side of the park had suffered far more tree damage than the other.
“But it’ll be fine,” Marilyn said. “It won’t be in their faces that time of day, and the temperature isn’t supposed to get higher than the low eighties tomorrow.”
“You’re right,” Michele said as they pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to open. “It’s just . . . there’s still so much left to do.”
Marilyn put the car in park. “Michele, it’s time to let everything go. You’ve been working on this wedding for weeks and weeks. It’s all coming together wonderfully. Everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to do. Everything will happen the way it’s supposed to happen. And if it doesn’t, we’ll make some memories we can all laugh about down the road. It’s time for you to shut the Michele-machine down and start enjoying yourself. Just be the bride.”
Michele smiled. “You’re right.” They got out of the car. “Allan said almost the exact same thing.”
“See? God knew I wouldn’t be around to keep you on track once you left home, so he picked Allan.” They walked through the garage and then through the laundry room as the door rumbled and closed behind them. After they stepped into the house and set their things on the counter, Michele asked, “How does it feel to be home? Are you used to it yet?”
“Almost, but I really liked that little apartment I shared with Charlotte.”
“It’s a shame she couldn’t come to the wedding,” Michele said. “She seems like a nice lady.”
“She is,” Marilyn
said. “We’re going to stay friends, even if I don’t move back in with her.” The hurricane had left most of Charlotte’s furniture alone, but one of the side windows had broken, and the rain had destroyed the carpet. Charlotte had decided not to stay in a motel while she waited for the repairs. Instead she took a two-week vacation to Boston to visit her son.
Michele’s expression changed. “Does that mean you might be getting back with Dad soon?”
“I don’t know where we’re at, to be honest. I’m just taking it one day at a time.” They walked through the living area into the master bedroom suite.
“I’ve seen some changes in Dad. Since you left, I mean. Not at first, but in the last several weeks. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but he seems . . . nicer. Less tense.”
Marilyn had noticed that last weekend during the hurricane. Earlier, Michele had asked about how their time had gone. Marilyn had told her most of what happened but for some reason left out the part about Jim’s big apology moment. She was still trying to come to terms with it herself, unsure of whether Jim was sincere. He’d said some nice things, but did he really mean them or was he just saying all that to get her back? What if the changes he’d made were only superficial? What if she did come back, let things go back to the way they were, only to find herself getting stepped on all over again?
“What are you thinking?” Michele sat on the bed. “Are you worried about tonight? How you and Dad will do at the rehearsal dinner?”
“Not really,” she said. “I’m sure your dad will behave. He’ll be the perfect gentleman. We’ll keep a polite distance, do what’s expected. He won’t make a scene.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that. Do you plan on having any fun? Are you going to be able to enjoy yourself tonight, with him right there?”
Marilyn thought a moment. “Yes. I’ll be fine. You’ve got us at separate tables, right?”
Michele made a face. “Yeah.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, it’s just so . . . strange. I never imagined this, the wedding finally being here, and you and Dad not being together. But I’m a big girl. It’s not a big deal.”
“You want me to sit at the same table with your father? Is it going to embarrass you if we don’t sit together?”
“No. Half my friends come from divorced parents.”
“Well, your father and I are not divorced.”
“I know, I’m just wondering what . . .” She didn’t seem to know how to say what she wanted to say.
“Wondering what?”
“What’s going to happen with you two? I kind of find it hard to believe that the two of you spent all that time together during Hurricane Harold and you didn’t talk.”
“We talked.”
“You said you watched some movies. Then the next day you both were just busy cleaning up the mess. Didn’t you guys talk at all about you? Where you’re at? Where your future’s headed? Nothing at all like that?”
Marilyn sighed. All week long, different things Jim had said in his apology moment kept trying to find their way into her conscious mind, but she’d kept blocking them. Some of them were trying to surface now.
“What’s the matter, Mom? What aren’t you telling me?”
Marilyn breathed deeply, sat on the edge of the bed, and said, “Yes, we talked. Or rather, he talked and I listened. He tried to apologize, as best he could, I guess.” She began sharing things she remembered. “He told me how sorry he was for being too bossy and controlling. How he knew his actions must have hurt me a lot, but that he had never noticed my pain. He said he was sorry for that too. But I don’t know, it—” She started crying. So many memories over the years began to surface, things she didn’t want to remember. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t she stop crying?
Michele grabbed a Kleenex box off the dresser and joined her on the bed. “I remember the way he used to talk to you, Mom. Like you were a child. And other times like you didn’t have a brain in your head. It made me so mad. I always wondered how you put up with it.”
Hearing this made Marilyn realize how wimpy she had been all those years. She wished she had been a better example to Michele. But it was also oddly comforting, hearing Michele talk this way. She had been able to see how wrong it was all on her own.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before, when I asked you how your time with Dad went?” Michele asked gently.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been trying to stay strong all week and not let the things he said get to me.”
“What’s that mean, ‘get to you’?”
“To make me weak, so that I’ll come running back to him. What if he didn’t mean it? What if he just said all that because he’s tired of living alone? I don’t want to go back to the way it was with your dad. Not now. Not when I’m finally free of it. It was horrible before, Michele. Just horrible.” Jim’s face appeared in her mind. That look he got. The one that accompanied a hundred lectures, a thousand cold stares. She started crying all over again.
Michele just let her. It went on for several minutes. Marilyn wasn’t sure how long she cried. When she regained her composure, Michele looked at her with tender eyes. “Mom, I don’t know why I’m saying this. You know I’ve been totally on your side the entire time, but . . .”
“What?”
“I’m thinking God may have really done something with Dad during this time. Something at a heart level. And I’m worried that you’ve become so bitter, you might not be able to see it. Don’t get me wrong, I really understand how you must be feeling because of Dad’s actions all these years. I don’t understand how you survived it. But . . .” She started tearing up herself and reached for a tissue. “I haven’t told you this. He asked me not to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Remember when you suggested I ask Tom to stand in for Dad at the reception tomorrow, when it came time for the father-daughter dance? Because Dad would never be open to such a thing?” Marilyn nodded. “Well, you were wrong. Dad said yes.” Tears rolled down Michele’s cheeks. “Dad said he’d be honored to dance with me tomorrow, no matter how bad a dancer he is. He wants to do this for me. He called me his little girl.”
Marilyn could hardly believe it. Jim was going to dance?
Could it be possible? Could Jim really have changed?
55
Everything was set. The big moment had come. His daughter’s wedding.
She should be here any minute.
Jim was all dressed in his tux, standing in the shade by the front of the park, waiting for the cars carrying Michele and the bridesmaids to arrive. The ladies had all changed at the house; the park didn’t have any special room set aside for this, and public restrooms were out of the question.
He was so nervous, but he didn’t know why. The rehearsal last evening went smooth as silk. And his part was so easy. Walk slow, don’t trip, and say “Her mother and I do” when the pastor asks who gives this woman to be married to this man. What could be simpler? Then his job was done, until the reception.
Was that it? Was he nervous about dancing for the first time at the reception? He didn’t think so. By the sound of it, most of the steps he’d learned wouldn’t be called into action. At the rehearsal dinner last night, Michele had whispered to him, “Don’t worry about the dance. I picked a very slow song. And a short one.”
Was he nervous about Michele getting married, now that the moment had come? The idea of losing his little girl? His emotions were certainly stirring about this. Several times he fought back tears at the dinner, seeing her across the room with Allan. Scenes of her as a baby kept popping into view, then as a little girl, then as a teen. Like some Hallmark commercial. But it was real now. The little girl in the scenes was Michele. Even now, tears rushed to his eyes, and he blinked them back.
He looked down the aisle. The crowd was all here. There was the pastor and Allan. Standing next to him was his best man. Next to them stood Tom and Doug. The ushers were seating a handful of
stragglers. He looked down the road in the direction the cars should be coming from. Still no sign of them.
He looked back at Allan. No, he wasn’t nervous about giving his little girl’s hand to this young man. Jim had more life experience than Allan, more knowledge about business and economics, but he didn’t have half the character and kindness he saw in Allan. Allan had made Michele extremely happy so far, and Jim was certain Allan would keep his vows and keep on trying to make her happy for the rest of their lives.
Jim looked back toward the street. There they were, the cars were coming. They pulled up to the curb. Out of the first car, the two bridesmaids popped out, laughing and talking. Jim looked to the second car. Marilyn got out first, from the passenger side. She looked at Jim, then at the backseat toward Michele and her maid of honor.
Jim tensed up. Instantly. He suddenly knew why he was so nervous.
It was Marilyn.
He’d talked to Uncle Henry about this nervousness yesterday morning. Uncle Henry said he thought it was Jim’s expectations. They were all fired up, and they had no reason to be. Not yet anyway. Jim had said his apology last weekend during the hurricane. He’d meant every word. But Uncle Henry had told him almost exactly the same thing Audrey Windsor had.
“She needs time, Jim. Time for the Lord to work on her heart, and time to see you really mean the things you said. It’s not like there’s some kind of switch Marilyn can flip, and everything’s all better. Words don’t do it for a woman whose heart’s grown cold. Even nice words like you said. You’ve gotta be strong. If you meant all those things, then live ’em. Day after day. Trusting God to get through to her in his own way and time. Never give up doing what is right no matter how difficult things get.”