The Desire

by Gary Smalley

  “So how’s the new job working out?” Jim asked Tom.

  “I’m getting the hang of it. I was a little rusty at first, but it’s all coming back to me.”

  “Do you like the people you work with?” Marilyn asked.

  “Mostly. I don’t know anybody well yet. Still haven’t figured out who to trust yet.”

  “Don’t trust anyone,” Jean said. “That’s what got you in trouble at the bank job. You can trust your dad and mom and me.”

  “And me,” little Tommy said. “You can trust me, Daddy.” His contribution reminded all of them he was getting old enough to start paying attention.

  Marilyn realized what they were talking about, the trust issues both Tom and Jean were clearly still struggling with. Tom’s previous IT job had actually been stolen from him by a guy he had thought was a good friend. But this “friend” had betrayed him to their new bosses, making himself look good at Tom’s expense, and taking credit for many of Tom’s achievements. In a way, she was glad Tommy had spoken up, forcing them to change the subject. That passage in Philippians ran through her mind: Forgetting what lies behind . . .

  They turned right at the stop sign; Marilyn knew they would. One block ahead, the bungalow section began. They walked in the street near the curb. None of the streets between here and Audrey’s were busy. The sidewalk was nice but not wide enough for them all to see each other as they talked. Marilyn and Jim definitely wanted to see Tom’s and Jean’s faces when they broke the news.

  They continued on for a few more blocks, talking about this or that, everyone in a relatively good mood. Jim had hoisted Carly around his shoulders. She had both hands firmly gripping his forehead. Tom had done the same with Tommy. Jean was pushing a sound-asleep little Abby in her stroller. Marilyn couldn’t help but notice how many times Tom and Jean gazed longingly at the homes as they passed by. Seeing it through their eyes gave Marilyn a fresh appreciation for the wonder and privilege of living in a place like this.

  It wasn’t just the homes; it was also the parks. They had already passed two of them, perfectly landscaped, manicured, and edged. Each had colonial-style benches strategically placed under shady trees surrounding a bubbling fountain. And she loved the imitation gaslight street lamps. At the far end of the second park was a swing set. Tommy immediately begged for permission to play there. Tom was about to say yes but looked at his father.

  “Why don’t we stop there on the way back?” Jim said.

  “On the way back from what?” Tom asked.

  Jim hesitated. “From our walk.”

  The answer was instantly met with whining from Tommy, then Carly, whom Marilyn suspected had no idea what the whining was about.

  “If you don’t stop,” Tom said, firmly but gently, “we won’t go at all. Grandpa said we’ll go to the playground on the way back. You just have to be patient for a few minutes.”

  “I hate patient,” Tommy said.

  “I do too,” Marilyn said.

  “You’re not helping, Mom. Say ‘Okay, Daddy.’”

  Tommy obeyed. Soon his smile returned.

  Five minutes more, and they reached Audrey’s street. “This looks a little familiar,” Tom said.

  “I would’ve thought the whole area around here looks familiar,” Jim said. “You and Jean go for walks all the time.”

  “We do. But we normally don’t get farther than that playground we just passed.”

  “What do you guys usually talk about on your walks?”

  “All kinds of things,” Tom said.

  “Do you ever talk about the future? Like where you might be living a year from now?”

  “We’ve been trying not to do much of that,” Tom said. “We know we’re kind of stuck because of what happened with the house. Dreaming like that isn’t good for my health. But I promise you, we’ll be moved out way before then. That’s one of the things we were talking about on our last walk. I think in a month or two we should be able to afford our own apartment, let you and Mom have your house back.”

  Marilyn realized they were coming up to Audrey Windsor’s house.

  “Oh, I think I can pretty much guarantee you’ll be out of our house by this time next year.” Jim actually said this with a bit of an edge.

  Marilyn knew he was just setting things up.

  “We will, Dad. You guys have been really patient with us.”

  “But I don’t think you’ll be living in an apartment.”

  “I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Jean said.

  Jim stopped walking and turned to face Audrey’s house. Marilyn walked up and stood beside him. “I disagree,” he said. “I think you do have a choice.” That same edge again in his voice.

  Tom and Jean stopped walking and turned to face his parents. Both of them looked confused. “I’m not following you,” Tom said.

  A big smile crossed Jim’s face. As he turned and pointed toward the house, he said, “Wouldn’t you much rather live here?”

  “We can’t, Dad. I already checked. There aren’t any homes to rent in this neighborhood. There’s a few in yours, but we’re miles from making a rent payment like that.”

  “Who said anything about renting?”

  “Well, we could never buy a house here.”

  “Who says?”

  “The bank says. Or at least they would if we asked. But I know better not to ask. We’re at least a couple of years away from—”

  “Who said anything about talking with a bank?”

  “Dad, what are you talking about?”

  Jim walked up to Tom, gently set Carly down. Marilyn saw tears well up in his eyes. “God’s been good to you, Tom. To you and Jean.”

  “I know he has.”

  “And I believe he’s been pleased with how faithful you’ve been, how you’ve followed through on all the things you said you would do over the past year. Your mom and I haven’t heard either of you complain even once.”

  “Thanks, Dad . . . but what are you talking about?”

  Jim glanced over his shoulder at the house. “This . . . is Audrey Windsor’s house. That’s why it looks familiar. She wants to sell it to you guys, at a price you can afford, and she wants to hold the mortgage herself.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  Tom and Jean looked at each other. They embraced as tears filled their eyes.

  16

  It was Wednesday, just before noon. Marilyn was searching for a parking place in front of Giovanni’s, her favorite Italian restaurant and café, right on Main Street. That was where she was meeting Christina for lunch. After her talk with Jim this morning, she was even more excited about this.

  He had given her the green light for Christina to move into the garage apartment. Doug had surprised him on the phone when they’d talked that morning. Jim had expected at least some resistance to the idea. But all Doug asked was, “Where would I sleep when I came home?” As they thought about it a moment, Doug answered the question himself. “Guess I could just sleep on the pullout sofa bed in your office downstairs.” Jim mentioned that Tom and Jean would be moving into Audrey Windsor’s place in a month or two. Doug could sleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms after that.

  “Yeah, that’ll work,” Doug had said, and that was it.

  Marilyn got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant. Christina’s car was right by the entrance. She couldn’t wait to share the news with her. As soon as she came through the front doors, she saw Christina sitting in a chair in the waiting area, wearing a pretty blue dress. She really was an attractive young girl. “There you are,” Marilyn said, extending her arms for a hug.

  Christina hugged back in an awkward way. Marilyn remembered she was from New York. Maybe they didn’t hug so freely up there. “You look beautiful,” she said. “I love that dress on you.”

  “Thank you,” Christina said.

  The hostess walked up to seat them. “Could we sit at one of the café tables outside?” Christina asked. “I’ve alwa
ys wanted to do that.”

  “Sure, no problem.” The hostess picked up two menus. “Follow me.”

  “I like it outside too,” Marilyn said.

  After they sat, the waitress took their drink orders. Christina looked all around; she seemed mesmerized by the scene. Marilyn wondered if she had ever eaten in a place this nice. “Order whatever you’d like, Christina. My treat.”

  “Are you sure?” Christina smiled. “Because I’m pretty hungry.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place. The food here is very good, and they serve lots of it.”

  Christina opened the menu and began to read, her eyes like a child reading a storybook. She wound up ordering something simple, linguine in a white clam sauce. She said it reminded her of home. Marilyn ordered veal marsala, the lunch portion.

  As they ate, Marilyn spent the time getting to know Christina better, steering the questions and discussion away from anything that might make her tense or sad. This wasn’t supposed to be a counseling session, and Christina had far too much sadness going on in her life as it was. Marilyn learned that Christina had an older brother named Angelo that she seemed to think fondly of. He lived somewhere in southern California, but they didn’t talk that often. She had lived in this area for over a year and had yet to visit a single theme park. “We’ll just have to do something about that,” Marilyn had said.

  Christina liked to garden, but since she’d always lived in apartments, her gardening was restricted to potted plants. Marilyn smiled when she heard this, knowing the wonderful gardening opportunities awaiting Christina on Elderberry Lane.

  Christina was going to church every Sunday, but she didn’t understand half of what the preacher said. So far, she hadn’t made any close friends. Marilyn asked her if she’d like to visit their church this week and, without thinking, invited her over for dinner after. She hoped Jim wouldn’t mind this little surprise, because Christina instantly said yes.

  After they had finished eating—and Christina wasn’t joking; her plate was wiped clean—Marilyn asked for the check. When the waitress walked away, she said, “Christina, do you have to get right back?”

  “I’m off the rest of the afternoon. Why?”

  “I’d like to invite you back to our house for a little while. It’s just a few blocks from here. You could follow me. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “I’d love to do that,” Christina said. “I’ve been dying to see what one of these River Oaks places looks like on the inside.”

  “Wonderful. Let me take care of this check, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Marilyn,” Christina said, “I just have to tell you . . . I can’t remember when I’ve had this much fun. I don’t know how to thank you. For this, for fixing my car on Monday . . . for just making time in your life for me.” Tears began to form in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.

  “Christina, I’ve enjoyed this so much. Really, it’s been my pleasure.”

  Marilyn kept her eyes on the rearview mirror. Christina stayed right with her all the way down the service lane road and onto the garage driveway. “I’m going to pull my car into the garage,” Marilyn said through the window. “You can park yours right there.”

  Christina’s eyes were almost popping out of her head. “You live . . . here?”

  “We do.” Marilyn was aware of a totally different sensation than what she used to feel at times like this. For years, bringing people to the house for the first time was a matter of prestige and boasting, a chance to impress people with their wealth and her gift of decorating. She was so grateful to find how much her heart had changed. Right now, she felt concern for Christina. She wanted to do everything to make her feel accepted.

  Marilyn walked toward the back of the garage. “Follow me.” For a moment, she thought about taking her upstairs to the garage apartment first, then changed her mind. “I’ll show you the main house first.”

  They walked across the manicured sidewalk and across the pool deck into the veranda. Christina walked slowly behind her, taking everything in, a look of utter amazement on her face. Marilyn unlocked the French doors that led into the great room and kitchen area and turned off the security alarm. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure. Do you have decaf?”

  “I do. Tell you what, I’ll get the coffee started and then take you on a tour through the rest of house.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  A few minutes later, they were walking through the master bedroom suite. “Do you and Jim live here all alone?”

  “Well, this is the house our kids were raised in. They’re all grown up. My daughter Michele is married and moved out. Doug hasn’t moved out completely. You met him on Monday. But he’s away at college most of the time. My son Tom and his family are living upstairs, but they’ll be getting their own place very soon. It’s not far from here.”

  “I guess this place will get pretty quiet then.”

  They came out and headed upstairs. “I suppose it will.” They continued to walk through all the bedrooms, baths, and loft area, pausing briefly at a window that overlooked the backyard.

  “What’s that over there?” Christina asked.

  “That’s the apartment over the garage, where Doug’s been living when he’s in town.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you like to see it?”

  “You think Doug would mind?”

  “I don’t think so.” They came downstairs again. “Why don’t you go over there while I pour our coffee? Once inside, you’ll see a stairway to the left. It’s right up those stairs. Here’s a key to the front door.”

  Christina smiled and walked toward the garage apartment. Marilyn brought the coffee, creamer, sugar, and a little dessert to the dinette table, then sat and waited for Christina’s return.

  Ten minutes later, she did.

  She had spent twice as much time walking through the garage apartment than the time they’d spent walking through the main house. Marilyn smiled. She had a feeling she knew why. When Christina joined her at the table, Marilyn said, “So, what do you think of the house?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s like a fairy-tale castle.”

  “How about the garage apartment?”

  “It was . . . perfect.”

  “We thought you’d like it.”

  “We?”

  “Jim and I.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Christina . . . Jim and I have been talking about how we can best help you at this time in your life. You’ve shown remarkable courage and faith for such a new Christian, despite facing some really tough times.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Jim and I would love to have you live here, in the garage apartment, at least until your baby is born.”

  “I don’t know what to say . . . Are you serious?”

  Marilyn smiled. “Yes. We’d like to rent it to you.”

  Confusion instantly appeared on Christina’s face. “But I can’t pay even a fraction of what it’s worth. A place like that’s got to be out of my reach.”

  “We don’t want you to worry about that. Jim and I discussed it. He’ll help you work out a budget, and we’ll just charge you whatever you can afford.”

  “It can’t be true.”

  “It is true,” Marilyn said. “We’ve already talked it over with Doug, and he’s fine with it too.”

  “He is?”

  Marilyn nodded. “When he comes home on weekends, he’ll sleep on the pullout sofa in Jim’s office, then upstairs after Tom’s family moves out.”

  “Does Doug come home often?” Christina asked.

  “Not as often as I’d like. The place is yours if you want it.”

  “I do. I definitely do!”

  17

  Do you want a cup of coffee? It might help you wake up.” Michele stood in their bedroom doorway looking at Allan, who was now sitting up in bed. This was the second
day he’d been home from his mission trip, and the second day spent recovering from a nine-hour jet lag. She hoped he pulled out of it soon; tomorrow he returned to work.

  “You going to have one?” he asked.

  “Sure, we can drink it out on the patio. We’d be in the shade, now that the sun’s starting to set.”

  “Sounds nice. I’ll take a quick shower while you make it.” He got out of bed and stretched.

  She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m heading downstairs now. Don’t get back in that bed.”

  “I won’t. I’ll turn the shower on right now.”

  After giving him another kiss, she headed for the stairs. It was so good having him home. In a few more days, he’d be back to his old self, and they’d be back to their old routines. She reached the kitchen and started the coffee. It was an odd time for coffee; dinner was already in the oven. But if it helped Allan stay awake until their normal bedtime tonight, it was a small price to pay.

  They still hadn’t had any in-depth conversations yet, the kind Jean had urged her to have about her pregnancy struggles. Partly because Allan had spent the morning and the better part of the day getting caught up on their bills. Before his trip, he had intended to set things up so she could take care of them all while he was gone. That hadn’t happened. But Michele knew the real reason they hadn’t talked yet.

  It was her. She was a chicken.

  The very thing she used to hammer her mom about when she’d lived at home, she was guilty of. Being too passive, not speaking up when something bothered her. Is that when this fault had started with her mom? Years ago, when she was first married? Allan was nothing like her dad, at least the way her dad was back then. He wasn’t bossy or controlling. Allan was kind, a good listener. He seemed genuinely interested in her welfare and, for the most part, took the initiative to ask Michele questions when he noticed she wasn’t doing well.