by Nancy Moser
It made her think of housewives who wore heels and a string of June Cleaver pearls to clean the kitchen, an organdy apron protecting their full skirts. Women who donned makeup even when they weren't going out in public. Mothers who made rolls from scratch, not from a tube, and never once licked their fingers when the frosting just happened to make them deliciously sticky.
Whatever. That kind of perfect wasn't hen and certainly in the whole scheme of things, those kinds of details didn't matter. At least not now. Not yet. She had bigger issues to deal with.
She slipped on her robe with the frayed hem and the permanent stain on the sleeve, tied the belt, and headed downstairs to pop that tube of rolls. She looked forward to licking a little frosting.
Cal came down soon after.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
After ten years of marriage she was good at reading the nuances in his voice. And this time his tone indicated forgiveness. When he sat at the table to read the paper she hugged him from behind. He patted her hand against his chest.
Thank You, Jesus.
Avi appeared in the kitchen just as the rolls were in their last minute. She sat at the table, ready to eat. “Funny papers, Daddy.”
He glanced up. “Please?”
“Please.”
She got her funny papers, setting them against the lazy Susan so she could read Ziggy and Garfield.
Annie cleared her throat. Avi looked up. Cal did not. “Them that don't help, don't eat,” Annie said, knowing with utter certainty that June Cleaver had never said this line.
Avi pushed herself away from the table, got out three plates, and set a napkin next to each. As she poured the orange juice, she sang a song. “‘Seek and ye shall find, knock knock, and the door shall be opened. Ask and it shall be given, and the love come a-tum-blin' down.'”
Cal glanced up from the front page. “Where'd you learn that?”
Annie seconded the question. “Where did you learn that?”
Avi set a glass of juice at her father's place. “Sim taught me. At Bible study.”
Since she'd brought up the subject… “I'd like to go to church this morning, Cal.”
The air left the room.
Cal let his arm drop, scrunching his newspaper against the table. His head shook back and forth.
“It'll just be for an hour,” she said. “You're welcome to come with us.”
Oops. Wrong thing to say. Cal looked at her. “You could have fooled me.”
“I don't underst—”
Cal shoved his chair back, making both of them jump. He strode to the china cupboard and yanked out the hidden Bible. He shook it in front of her face. “I found your stash, Annie.”
She couldn't believe his choice of words. Stash? You dare to call the Bible stash? Her heart raced and words of defense lined up, ready for battle. Then she glanced at Avi. The poor thing looked confused. Join the club.
She put a hand on their daughter's hair. “Why don't you go upstairs, sweet-apple. Put on your navy dress.”
Avi was only too willing to leave the room. Annie found herself praying. Help, please help… Maybe if she downplayed the moment? “Sit, Cal. Eat your rolls while they're hot.” She was glad her voice sounded calm. She sure didn't feel calm.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she waited for him to move. Finally, he did, tossing the Bible on the table. It knocked over his orange juice.
Annie grabbed the book, but the napkin-bookmark sopped up the liquid, drawing it into the pages. She rushed to the counter, to a towel. The leather cover was quickly cleaned, but the pages—those beautiful wispy pages…stained. Stuck together.
Cal got up and retrieved a second towel, cleaning up his mess. “Sorry. It was an accident.” He lifted his newspaper. “Oh, great. It's all over my paper.”
The comparison between a throwaway newspaper and her Bible pushed reason aside. Annie tossed the towel at his back, clutched the Bible to her chest, and walked toward the front of the house.
He came after her. “Where you going?”
She headed up the stairs. “I told you. To church.”
When he put his hand atop hers on the railing she stopped. “Don't do this, Annie.”
“Don't do what?”
“Don't let God come between us.”
She let out a breath. “He's not.”
Cal snickered.
She looked down at his hand lying on top of hers. She faced him and placed her other hand on top of the pile. “If anything, believing in Him will make me love you more. Better.”
Head shaking, he jerked his hand free. “You're wrong. I know you're wrong.”
The way he said it… “How do you know?”
Cal put his hands in his pockets and walked back to the kitchen.
Once Avi and Annie were in the car, Avi asked, “Why is Daddy so mad about the Bible? Sim calls it the Good Book. Why would he be mad about you reading a good book?”
“I have no idea.” She backed down the driveway but hesitated at the street.
“Where we going, Mama? What church are we going to?”
“Again, I have no idea.” Details, details. Annie was just relieved to be away.
“That's okay. We'll find one. I know we will.”
They found one. Or rather, they found Merry. And Susan and Sim. Avi spotted them getting out of their cars in a church parking lot. Annie couldn't believe their luck. They pulled into the lot.
Avi bolted from the car. “Sim!”
Annie hoped her face wasn't a billboard of the argument she'd just had with Cal. She got out of the car.
But as soon as the women were close, she blurted out, “Cal and I had an argument! About God.”
“Oh, my,” Merry said. “That's a big subject.”
“Yeah, well, it certainly pushed Cal's button.” She turned to Susan. “I tried not to push. But he found the Bible I'd hidden in the dishes and—”
“You hid your Bible?” Merry asked.
Oh, dear. Had she messed that up, too? Tears threatened. “I didn't want to upset him by blatantly reading… And all I did this morning was say I wanted to go to church, but he came unglued.”
She felt Susans hand on her shoulder. “Sim, take Avi into Sunday school. Bring her with you if you want, or let her go with the fifth graders. Her choice.”
Avi touched her arm. “Mama? You all right?”
Annie could only nod.
“Your mom will be fine,” Susan said. “You girls go ahead. We'll be in in a minute.”
The parking lot was full of people. “Can we get in my car please?”
Merry took the front seat and Susan got in the back.
“Do you need a tissue?” Susan asked.
Annie nodded and pointed to the glove box. Merry handed her one, and she dabbed her eyes. “I feel like such a fool.”
“For arguing with your husband?”
“For crying in a parking lot.”
Susan gave her shoulder a pat. “There are no boundaries for tears. Want to tell us what happened?”
Yes, she did. Annie told them the details. “Why is he so anti-God? I can understand him being a little unnerved by my suddenly reading the Bible and such, but I want our life to be better. Not worse.”
Susan sighed. “The more you tell me, the more he sounds like Forbes.”
Annie angled in her seat to see Susan in the back. “You said that the other day. Tell me more. I need to know.”
“I'll preface it by saying that Forbes was the extreme. I've never seen a man so antagonistic toward faith. He believed in himself, period.” She put a hand on her pregnant belly. “He gave me an ultimatum. Him or God.”
“Oh, dear.”
Susan rubbed her belly, as if comforting the child. “He's a very bitter man. I would have stayed with him and worked through it, but he wouldn't do it that way. It was all him or nothing.”
“That's not a very fair choice for him to ask you to make.”
“Fair has little to do with a lot of choices, Annie.” Susan looked at Merry. “You're quiet.”
Merry looked out the car windows. “We should be going in.” She turned to Annie. “You'll be okay. Just come with us. You're doing the right thing.”
She certainly hoped so.
Cal couldn't stay in the house. The empty house.
He got in his truck and headed out—to where, he didn't know. That was a lie.
As soon as he turned onto the highway leading to Eldora, he knew where he'd end up. Twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of Friendly Acres Retirement Village. A fancy name masking the truth. It was a nursing home. Plain and simple.
Cal turned off the engine and sat in silence. He hated keeping secrets from Annie, but he had no choice. A ten-year-old lie was hard to undo. Lying had been a huge mistake. Yet, surely if he came clean, she could forgive him.
He put his hand on the door handle. She might be able to forgive him for the lie, but never for the reason behind the lie.
Life was complicated. And totally unfair.
“Dad?”
His father roused from his sleep. “Huh? What?”
Cal gently moved his fathers feet to the side and sat on the ottoman. “I thought you'd be in the church service this morning.”
Fergis McFay cleared his throat and pushed himself straighter in the chair. He adjusted the oxygen tube in his nose. “I'm not going ever again. They're wrong. And that pastor; I heard he's been divorced. I'm not taking no preachin from a man who's sinned against God.”
Sorry I asked.
His father's eyes were fully awake now. “Why aren't you in church? You still a heathen?”
“I try to be a good man, Dad.”
“No trying to it. You be a good man, or God will strike you down. You just watch.”
Cal wanted to leave, yet his father was a flame and Cal the moth, flying too close yet unable to stay away from the burn. The hurt. He'd moved him into this nursing home a week ago, after his father's health had gone bad because of the emphysema. And now the doctors said he had the beginnings of Alzheimer's and couldn't live alone in his apartment anymore. Cal had to move him. Cal had to pay for him.
But with what?
He thought back to the insurance overpayment. Yes, he'd kept it. But not for himself. He needed it to pay for his dad's care. If only he could tell Annie that.
But he couldn't.
Because she thought his father was dead.
Fergis rambled on about heathens and hellfire. Cal had to change the subject or suffocate under the words. “I might be starting a new project, Dad. A friend and I—he owns a fancy restaurant in Steadfast—he asked me… It's a great honor, really. We want to open a restaurant for families and—”
“Humph. What do you know of families? Never been married. Never given me a single grandchild.” His eyes flashed as if he enjoyed opening old wounds. “‘Cept the one who was a bastard. Seducing that good Christian girl to sin. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Cal stood and took a step toward the door. “Treenas gone, Dad. You know that. And the baby's—”
“You are a sinner, boy. You must repent or be damned!”
A nurse stepped into the room. “Goodness sake, Fergis. What's going on in here?”
“I was just leaving.” Cal pushed past her into the hall, his wings suitably seared.
“Mark my words, boy. Once a sinner, always a sinner!”
Cal gripped the steering wheel. His entire body pressed forward. Toward home. Away from the condemnation of his father.
Fergis McFay had always been a judgmental man, but in the past year or so, as his health had failed, he'd gotten worse. And now, with the unpredictability of his memory, Cal's past with Treena came up far too often.
Treena, a good Christian girl.
And now Annie.
Cal pushed harder on the accelerator. It couldn't happen again. It couldn't. He wouldn't let God take the woman he loved away from him.
A siren blared. He looked in his rearview mirror. A cop.
He checked the speedometer. He was going ninety-three.
Great. Just what he needed.
He slowed, pulled onto the shoulder, and waited for the policeman to come to his door.
“Cal?”
He looked toward the voice. “Ken. Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. I thought it looked like your truck, but I couldn't imagine any reason for you coming from Eldora on a Sunday morning.”
“Errands. That's all.”
“You always drive ninety when you're coming home from errands?”
“Sorry. I was…” Upset, “…thinking about something.”
“Next time you have such thinking to do, pull over and do it from a parked position, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Ken started writing him up. “Ah, come on, Ken. Don't give me a ticket.”
“I don't want to, and if you were going a few miles over, I'd give you a warning. But over ninety? Cal, that's ticket material, friend or no friend.”
He knew Ken was right. “Fine. Hand it over.”
“Let me see your license, please.”
He finished the ticket and gave it to Cal, who tossed it on the passenger side of the seat. “Can I go now?”
Ken squinted at him. “That depends. You okay? Want to grab a cup of coffee or something? I'm a good listener.”
Cal turned the ignition. “I just want to get home.”
“A good place to be, Cal. A good place to be.”
The service was nearly over, and Annie felt like a sponge, absorbing everything. She'd read the notices in the bulletin about bake sales and pizza parties for the Sunday school kids. A trip to a pumpkin patch and various rehearsals and meetings. Hometown stuff that made her feel warm inside.
She'd gone through the stand-up/sit-down stuff, and Merry had shown her where the various responses were in the hymnal. Annie loved the mellow sound when everyone read together, as if the people were aware of the texture of their seatmates and adapted their voices into a rich weave of words.
She was amazed at the Scripture readings, which reinforced everything she'd gone through the past months. And she listened to the sermon, eager for something to hit her over the head.
But it didn't.
The message that God had a plan for everyone's life was good, but it seemed like frosting on the cake of her thoughts.
And yet, it was perfect. Being hit by a thunderbolt that would make her understand everything in a flash would have been nice but wasn't practical. God didn't work that way.
Did He?
For the closing hymn Annie expected to hear the strains of the organ. Instead, she heard a drum set. And an electric piano. As everyone stood she strained to see the musicians up front. A third person on electric guitar joined in. Susan pointed to an insert in the bulletin that had music printed on it. People started singing—and moving to the music.
It was impossible not to move. She looked at the insert. The song was by a woman named Twila Paris.
The joy of the Lord will be my strength
I will not falter, I will not faint
He is my Shepherd, I am not afraid
The joy of the Lord is my strength!
The couple beside them clapped in sync, not needing to look at the music. The choir swayed like gospel groups she'd seen on TV. A few people raised their hands above their heads, their palms up, as if wanting to catch something.
Something from heaven?
Annies throat tightened, making singing impossible. She let the music envelop her. Her chest cavity seemed to expand to the point of aching. But it wasn't a bad feeling. She was full of joy. The sheer glory of it all. The words melded with the attitude. Giving. Offering. Receiving.
She closed her eyes and let it in. And as she did, the prominent line of the song broke through; “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
Joy.
Joy of the Lord.
Strength.
Then a tick
er tape of thoughts…joy in the Lord. Joy from the Lord. Strength in Him. Strength through Him.
She felt Susan's hand on her arm and opened her eyes. “You okay?”
Annie put a hand to her mouth and realized a decision had been made. “I want this.”
“You want what?”
The tears came out of nowhere. “I want this…this joy.”
Susan put an arm around her, pulling her close. She whispered in her ear. “Since you already have Him, it'll come. I promise.”
Annie nodded. Oh, my. She hoped it was true. With this kind of joy anything was possible. Anything.
When Jered woke up at eleven, he saw Jinko's car was gone. And he was glad. Jered still didn't know what he'd say to him about the shipment of booze in the middle of the night. Who was he to butt into Jinko's business? He didn't know anything about running a restaurant and a bar. Maybe the whole thing was legit. Maybe this was the way every restaurant got their shipments.
Yeah right.
He couldn't think about it. Fifty dollars and a pager had bought his silence.
Jered gathered up some clean clothes and headed to the house to use the shower. He had to be at work by noon. At the last second he backtracked and grabbed his pager. Just in case.
And good thing, too. Because on his way upstairs it vibrated in his hand. He looked at the display and recognized the number of Jinko's cell phone. Jered detoured to a phone he'd seen in the kitchen and dialed. This was kind of cool. It made him feel important.
The phone connected and Jinko answered. “You're up.”
“I'm going to take a shower.”
“Hold off a few minutes. I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure, but I'm supposed to be in to work at noon and—”
“Forget that for now. Come in when you can. This is more important.”
Jered spotted a pad of paper and a pen. He sat at the kitchen desk. “Shoot.”
“I'm expecting someone at the house. I was going to be there, but two waitresses didn't show, and I can't leave. You'll have to handle it.”
“No problem.” This felt good. Real good.
“His name's…never mind; you don't need to know his name. He's a tall guy with a black beard. When he comes to the door, open the garage for him and let him take ten of those DVD players I've got stacked in there. Nothing else. Just ten DVDs. Comprende?”