Interlude

by Lela Gilbert

  Betty noticed a folded piece of paper in her pocket. She reached in and pulled out a poem she had written. Oh good. I almost forgot. She’d intended to give it to Jon that day but had decided to read it one last time.

  As diligently as she’d tried to write a joyful tribute to their love, the shadows of past fears and uncertainties still fell across her words.

  Good grief. I hope he understands.

  Oh, come into my silence, Love,

  and teach me how to sing;

  lovely the song but I am afraid

  and courage is everything.

  Oh, come into my stillness, Love,

  and teach me how to dance;

  I feel the rhythm, I know the steps

  and now I must take the chance.

  Oh, come into my darkness, Love,

  and teach me to believe;

  Bright is the treasure, dazzling the gift

  So how can I not receive?

  She smiled to herself as she looked up at Jon squinting through his viewfinder. His love for her was a dazzling gift indeed. He was the only man she’d ever met who really cared about her, wholeheartedly loving the person she was on the inside. He’d helped her understand herself and had endowed her personality with a dimension of self-respect and confidence that had never been there before. Combined with her limitless admiration for Jon, their powerful spiritual bond, and a healthy physical attraction, they seemed to have everything they could possibly need to be happy together.

  Any doubts she still held about the future had nothing to do with Jon’s failures and weaknesses. She feared only her own shortcomings. The fact was, Betty’s behavior in Germany with Mike Brody still troubled her. It reminded her of a long-ago incident during her first marriage. An old flame had erupted into a bit of an inferno one night during one of her husband’s absences. Betty had barely escaped being consumed by the heat.

  Was she a faithless lover by nature? The old question “Will love last?” had been answered months ago with the rather unsettling response: “It’s up to you.” Was Betty capable of making and keeping a marital commitment? No one on earth could be as perfectly suited to her as Jon Surrey-Dixon. She knew that to the depths of her soul. So why had she allowed someone else even to touch her?

  When she glanced at Jon again, he was taking a photograph of her, the poem still in her hand. Before she could think to smile, the shutter clicked.

  I’m glad he can’t capture my thoughts on film.

  Jon turned his back to the sun, removed a film cartridge from the camera and dropped it into his camera bag. When he sat down next to her on the cement step, she handed him the poem without a word.

  He was silent for a few moments as he read it. Finally he said, “You’re still afraid?”

  She bit her lip. “Well, I’m really not. At least not as much as I was a few weeks ago. It’s funny, because I wasn’t really concerned at all when we were going to get married the first time. I was just starry-eyed and anxious to say you were mine once and for all.”

  “I guess we’ve both had a lot of time to think about marriage over the past seven months.” His eyes narrowed as he appraised her sober face. “I hope you aren’t changing your mind about getting married, Betty. Because I certainly haven’t changed mine!”

  She shook her head. “Of course I haven’t. I would never change my mind.”

  He gently touched her face. “So what is it you’re worried about?”

  “Making sure our love lasts, Jon.”

  “Well if we made it through my captivity, surely we can make it through anything else. Is there something wrong, something I don’t know about? I’ve noticed you’ve seemed a little, well, distant.” He hesitated, weighing his words. “It’s not something about that man you went out with in Germany . . . what’s his name, Mike?”

  “Oh, Jon,” she groaned, wondering if he had been reading her mind a few moments before. “Please don’t start that again! No, there’s nothing wrong. I just don’t want anything to go wrong. Everything is wonderful, and I guess I just don’t want to ruin it somehow.”

  “Betty, I think our love is a gift from God. He’s in it too, you know. Maybe it’s more than a matter of believing in human love. Sometimes that isn’t enough. Maybe it’s about believing in Him too.”

  Teach me to believe.

  Betty looked at her shoes for a full minute before she spoke. “Jon, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “What’s that, Betty?”

  “Something happened after you left, and I just think I should tell you.”

  “So tell me.” His voice was gentle, but she could hear a subtle note of fear in it.

  “About six weeks after you left I was feeling terrible— exhausted and lightheaded. I was in Washington D.C. at a hostage family get-together. In fact that’s when I met Vince Angelo. My period was two weeks late. And Jon, I thought I was pregnant.”

  “So what happened?”

  She shivered. There was no way he would ever comprehend the times of inner darkness she had passed through during his captivity. It was impossible to explain it now.

  “I . . . I was feeling pretty despondent. You were gone, maybe forever. Here I’d been on television all over the world and was still being bombarded by reporters. And all I could think about was the shame of finding myself publicly pregnant and unmarried.”

  “Oh, Betty, I’m sorry. That was my fault . . .”

  “No! No, it wasn’t. If there was anyone to blame, it was me. I could have very easily said no, and I didn’t want to.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I hate to say it, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “I know. It was a fantastic night. But I want to tell you what happened. I actually called an abortion clinic and made an appointment. I hadn’t even taken a test for pregnancy yet, so I wasn’t sure whether I was or not. Of course they were very accommodating. They said I could be tested at the clinic and then just go ahead with the abortion if it came back positive.”

  “So did you go?”

  “Well I struggled with the whole issue. The morality of abortion, the humiliation of pregnancy, the birth of a child without a father. I didn’t know at that point if I’d ever see you alive again. I couldn’t seem to come to any conclusion, so I got into a cab, and . . .”

  “And did you go?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t, Jon.”

  “Why not? What finally made up your mind for you?”

  “You, Jon! It was your baby too. I could have rationalized the rest, at least for the time being. But if a part of you was inside me, it was all I had left of you. How could I destroy your baby?”

  Betty hadn’t expected to cry. In fact she hadn’t really meant to tell Jon all the grave details about the incident. She vividly remembered how she’d longed to be in his arms in Washington, feeling so desperately alone in that hotel room. Now, six months later, he was there, he knew, and he was holding her next to him, comforting her at last.

  “I’m sorry, Betty.” Jon took a deep breath before he spoke. His voice was husky with emotion. “Is that why you haven’t wanted to make love to me since I got back?”

  “That’s one reason. The other reason is that I guess I just want to wait until we’re married this time, so everything will be perfect. I think God might like it better that way, if you know what I mean. But, Jon, I want you more than ever.”

  He seemed bewildered. “Why didn’t you talk to me about all this before? You just kept kind of pushing me away.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Betty was as confused as he was. She shook her head, trying to explain her own actions.

  “I guess I didn’t want to discuss it with you outright because in spite of everything, I somehow wanted to keep that door open. I can’t tell you how double-minded I’ve been, Jon. But after all we’ve gone through, I do want everything to be right.”

  He held her face against his, and brushed the back of her hair with his hand. “I want it to be right too. That’s why I have
n’t made an issue of it. As long as there isn’t anything else wrong . . .”

  “There’s nothing wrong, Jon. Nothing. I love you more than ever.”

  He sighed with evident relief. “Well, look, another week or so, and . . .” He kissed her sweetly. “I’m so glad we got that out in the open. I have to admit I’ve been feeling pretty bad.”

  “Forgive me, Jon. Really. I should have brought it up right away.” Betty smiled at him gratefully, wiping her tears away with her hand.

  He always understands. Always. It’s amazing.

  “So you like my new poem?”

  “I love the poem, Betty. I love all your poems, but this one tells me our marriage is going to be all right.” He looked at it again.

  “Why does it tell you that?”

  “Because it says that you’re taking a step of faith. You’re admitting you’re afraid, but you’re willing to sing, willing to dance, and you want to believe. I think God will take care of the rest.”

  Jon folded the paper and put in his shirt pocket. The sun was beginning to break through the pearly overcast as they left the tower behind. He took Betty’s hand and began to laugh.

  “Aren’t we a pair? We love each other dearly, and we’re both scared to death that getting married will ruin everything. Something tells me it’s not supposed to be like that. Something tells me that we’ve got a lot to learn about marriage—real marriage.”

  The elegant entrance to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel framed two attractive couples as they greeted each other warmly. Jon and Betty, after a day at Laguna Beach, had managed to change clothes and were now properly attired for a stylish dinner with Erica and Ken Townsend at the five-star hotel just a few miles south of Victoria Beach.

  “This is going to cost a fortune,” Erica giggled as they strolled past the exquisite floral arrangements and fine art pieces that graced the hotel’s lobby. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the Jolly Roger?”

  “Don’t be silly, Erica. No coffee shops tonight! Jon and I owe you two a lot more than a dinner at the Ritz.”

  Since their return to California, Ken had been preparing Jon and Betty for their wedding with a premarital counseling course he required all candidates for marriage to take. At first they had been a little put off by his insistence on the program—it seemed so unromantic and dull. But as each session came and went, they had found themselves addressing issues and concerns that could potentially damage their relationship.

  On their way into Ken’s office the week before, Betty had confided in Jon, “I guess all this is forcing us to be practical, even though I’d rather just go off somewhere and neck.”

  “Hold that thought,” Jon had responded quite enthusiastically. “Who says we can’t do both?”

  In fact, their conversation at Victoria Beach earlier had sprung from Ken’s demand that they be open and honest with each other, not hiding their innermost fears or frustrations. Ken was determined to provide the men and women he united in marriage with guidelines for living together. It was his wedding gift to them.

  “Your name?” the tuxedoed host inquired.

  “Surrey-Dixon. We have reservations for four.”

  “Right. This way, please.”

  They could hear rich arpeggios being played on a grand piano as they made their way through the well-appointed café. It was the least expensive dining room in the hotel, but still lavish enough to make them feel quite regal. Betty recognized the pianist’s melody as the love theme from Phantom of the Opera. “Just love me, that’s all I ask of you,” the lyric said. It was one of her favorite songs.

  Once they were settled at their table, a server brought their chosen bottle of wine and Ken proposed a toast. “Here’s to a lifetime marriage and many, many years of love and understanding.”

  Glasses clinked. Betty caught Jon’s eye and smiled at him. She said, “Ken, thank you for all you’re doing to make that toast come true.”

  “Well, thank you for putting up with all my rhetoric,” he laughed. “Poor Erica has to live with me, and she knows I don’t always practice what I preach.”

  “You do pretty well, Ken,” his wife patted his arm consolingly, “you really do.”

  “So what’s the best marital advice you can give, Erica?” Jon asked the cleric’s pretty wife.

  She and Ken looked at each other for a moment before she answered. “Well, I’m sure you’ve already heard this from Ken, but we believe God is the third party in our marriage. The Bible says that a threefold cord is not easily broken, and our church considers marriage as one of the sacraments. That means that the Holy Spirit is invited into the union, and so His power becomes a factor in the relationship.”

  “That means it’s not just a relationship between two people anymore.” Ken completed his wife’s thought. “It’s sort of a holy love triangle.”

  She nodded. “It’s a three-party agreement, and He’s the one with the real power to keep it together.”

  “There’s something else too.” Ken added. “When you marry in the presence of other believers, you are asking them to agree with you in prayer. There’s power in that too.”

  Jon said, “You know, Betty and I really thought about foregoing a formal ceremony and getting married by a chaplain in Weisbaden, but she wanted to invite a lot of friends to join us. I never thought about them agreeing with us in prayer, but it’s a terrific idea, isn’t it?”

  “Jon, some couples think it’s enough just to make love, to promise to be faithful to each other, and then to ask God’s blessing on their agreement. But it’s not enough at all. The church has been given authority by God to unite people in marriage. When a couple is married in the church, they aren’t just promising to love forever. They are making a solemn vow to God and each other, and they’re also receiving the Church’s blessing.”

  Jon glanced at Betty. She lowered her eyes. They had experienced a remarkable sense of closeness after making love for the first time seven months before. They had quite seriously made a verbal marital commitment at that time. Yet they had both sensed that their personal covenant hadn’t been complete.

  “So you think that the church’s blessing and the prayers of other Christians make for a stronger relationship?”

  “Jon, the dynamic of prayer and the power of the Holy Spirit aren’t just religious ideas. They are profound, dramatic realities.”

  Betty touched Erica’s hand. Her question reflected the utmost concern of her heart. “So Erica, in light of that, you really believe love can last, don’t you?”

  Erica weighed her words carefully before she answered. “Well, that depends on what you mean by love, Betty. If you mean warm, fuzzy feelings, I’d have to say that they come and go. And if you mean passion, I’d say you have to work together at keeping that alive. But if you are asking if a loving relationship can last, of course it can. It not only lasts, it grows stronger and deeper with every passing year.”

  Ken nodded, reading Betty’s need for further reassurance. “Betty, this is your second marriage, and it’s mine too. If you’re like me, you’ve blamed yourself for a lot of things that went wrong the first time. Some of it may have been your fault, and it’s good if you can acknowledge that. But it takes two people to make a marriage work. And they not only have to agree to make it work, they have to be capable of making it work.”

  “That’s why it’s important to make the right choice in the first place,” Erica commented. “You can’t just bring God into the picture and expect Him to change somebody’s entire personality.”

  Jon sighed. “That’s interesting. You know, when I was in Beirut, I struggled with that very issue. I found myself taking all the blame for my first marriage’s collapse. I felt like such a failure, I even wondered if it was wrong for me to marry Betty. But you’re right—it takes two people.

  “When I’m realistic about it, Carla simply wasn’t emotionally capable of being married—at least not to me. Even though she would pretend to repent and reform, she had no real intenti
on of changing. I certainly didn’t do everything perfectly either, but I did my best. Looking back now, I really think I did.”

  “I wish I could say that myself,” Ken scrutinized his wine glass as he spoke. “I didn’t really do very much right at all. I came into my marriage to Erica knowing I had blown it the first time, and I mean I really blew it. But even at that, God has met me in my weaknesses and given me His strength. No matter how badly things have gone wrong in the past, it’s all forgiven and forgotten. And the future belongs to Him.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of four artfully designed salads, and they all fell into admiring silence as they were being served. Betty felt warm and hopeful, encouraged by the exchange of ideas.

  Thank God I insisted we wait to get married. I’m so glad Ken could be part of this.

  “Ken, why don’t you ask the blessing on this food,” Jon suggested. They all joined hands as Ken began to pray,

  Our Father, we thank you for Jon and Betty, for their lives and the tremendous plans you have for them.

  We ask that their feelings of love for each other be sustained.

  We ask that the high esteem they have for each other remain untarnished.

  We ask that Your wise counsel and strengthening presence never be ignored.

  And we ask that the privilege of prayer always be exercised in their home, as they invite You to be the third party in their marriage.

  Thank you for this happy occasion, for the food, and for the blessing of friendship.

  For Jesus’ sake, Amen.

  Betty was trying to remember every word of Ken’s prayer. I wish I had that in writing. I’d sign it.

  Erica’s curiosity brought a lighter tone to the conversation. “So Betty, tell me about your honeymoon plans, or is that top secret information?”