by Nancy Moser
He put them on a shelf and took out the monk's robe. He'd wanted to be a singer. How about a few Gregorian chants? He slipped the robe over his head and tied the belt. He deepened his voice and sang a monkish, “Aaaahhhhmen.”
He smiled at the effect in the garage. Funny how putting on a simple costume made him feel different.
His favorite Halloween costume of all time was when he was five or six and he'd been a cowboy—a singing cowboy like Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. He'd seen old reruns of their movies and loved every one. He'd had a vest with fringe on it, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and even a plastic guitar that played music if you turned a crank. His dad had wanted him to wear a holster, but he wasn't that kind of cowboy. He was a crooner, not a fighter.
And now I am a…a what?
The answer to that question was yet to be determined. He took the costume off.
Why didn't life ever turn out like he planned?
Cal provided the perfect opening for Annie to ask about choir. When he came in the kitchen door after work, he kissed her and asked, “What's up tonight?”
Now that you mention it… “Do you have any plans?”
He eyed her funny. “I asked you first.”
Annie stirred the goulash. “I was thinking of going somewhere with Merry.”
“Where?”
She hesitated, really wanting to lie. “Choir. They're starting to work on their Christmas music and…” The words poured out. Maybe if she kept them coming, he wouldn't be able to insert the N-word.
Her string of words didn't stop him. “No.”
A glob of goulash fell from the spoon back into the pan. “I like to sing, Cal.”
“Since when?”
“It's for Christmas. You like Christmas music.”
He went through the mail on the counter, sorting it. “You're getting way too involved with Merry. She's a bad influence.”
That didn't make sense. “Oh, yeah, she's a real bad influence. She drags me to bars, makes me stay out late, tempts me to flirt with every —
His head whipped toward her. “She what?”
Annie hated herself for mentioning any sort of infidelity. “If she did any of those things, you could call her a bad influence. But since she doesn't, you can't say that about her.” But can I say those things about you?
Cal flipped the pages of a new Woodworking magazine. “She's filling your head with nonsense. God nonsense.” He turned to glare at her. “Where'd you put the Bible?”
She'd anticipated the question but had never come up with a good answer—and didn't come up with a good answer now. “It didn't belong in the garbage.”
He slapped the magazine closed. “Better there than in this house.”
Annie stared at him. His chest was heaving. How could a Bible threaten him so? The question surprised her by finding a voice. “What's going on, Cal? Why are you so afraid of a book?”
He turned back to the mail, tossing the junk in the trash. “I don't trust God. It's as simple as that.”
Annie didn't know what to do. “What happened that made you so angry with Him?”
Cal's head shook back and forth, almost as if convincing himself that he shouldn't say more. But he did. Sort of. “I'm not afraid of anything. I'm not.”
“I envy you.”
He glanced at her. “What are you afraid of?”
She looked at the pot of goulash. To put it into words…
“Just tell me.” His voice was suddenly soft. She always melted to that voice.
She put the spoon down and faced him. Fm afraid I've lost you to a woman in Eldora. She bypassed that fear and voiced another. “I'm afraid your partnership with Bailey is going to change things, change—”
His eyes brightened and he took her hand. “Oh, it will, Annie. Bailey's good at making money, at making things work. Getting hooked up with him will mean that I'll be able to get us a bigger place, a better life.”
“We have enough, Cal.”
He released her hand. “What's enough?”
She didn't have an answer to that one. She took his hand. “I'm not so afraid of the financial aspect of your dealings with Bailey as his other influence on you.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” He pulled away and sat at the table, taking his magazine with him.
How could she ever explain women's intuition? In spite of a few outward signs, most of her distrust of Bailey stemmed from feelings. She took the catty-corner seat. “It's just a feeling I have, but—”
He snickered. “Oh, that's productive.”
She tried again. “Bailey's priorities are different than ours.”
“His priority is to be a success. That's mine, too.”
She sat back. How could she argue with that?
He flipped through the pages, snapping each one. “I'd be stupid to close the door on the opportunity Bailey's giving me, and for you to ask me to…”
She ran a hand across her forehead, trying to press her thoughts into place. “I'm not sure he'd be a good partner, that's all. He's out for himself. He seems very selfish.” She thought of something else. “When was the last time you heard him talk about his son?”
“You judge him because he isn't all blubbery or obsessed about finding Jered?”
“If Avi ran away, we'd move the world to find her—and wouldn't stop until we did.”
“Avis ten. Jered was seventeen.”
“He's still his son. He still left under bad circumstances.”
“That's Bailey's business, not ours.”
Annie stood. “But Bailey doesn't seem to care. That says something about him. If he doesn't care about his own son, will he care about you as a business partner?”
Cal ripped an advertising card from his magazine with extra fervor and kept ripping until it was in small pieces on the table. “How did we get to talking about Bailey anyway? We were talking about you being brainwashed by Merry, reading a Bible, going to church, wanting to get sucked up in a choir.”
Annie's shoulders fell. Going to choir meant going to church. What had she been thinking? She couldn't have it both ways.
He looked down toward the magazine, but his eyes were focused past it, into the nothingness of the bare table. “All those things take you away from me, Annie. I want us to be close. Closer. Like we used—” He covered his eyes with a hand. “I'm feeling really stressed right now. I need you, Annie. I need you here with me. Don't go.” She took his hand. What choice did she have?
Cal went into the master bathroom and shut the door. Locked it. He put the lid down on the toilet and sat. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. His hands raked through his hair, finally becoming still over his face.
Why had he acted like such a wimp in front of his wife? Why had he revealed to her the essence of his secret?
“Idorit trust God.”
Had he ever put it so plainly? Even in private?
He peeked through his fingers. Trust was for the ignorant. The naive. The stupid. He'd been where Annie was once. He'd felt the excitement of believing he found life's answers. Jesus was a good salesman. He knew how to entice people to buy what He was offering. And He had loads of sneaky ways to close the deal. Lots of false promises of a good life. A better life. Happiness. Contentment. Peace.
Cal let out a bitter laugh. Buying into Jesus was like buying a new car. Sure, it was great at first, all shiny new with a fresh smell that spoke of something good and important. But after a while, when the newness wore off and you got a few dings in it, and your kid spilled an entire can of strawberry pop on the upholstery, it wasn't so special after all. Just ordinary. Affected by the bings and bongs of everyday life like everything else. That's when you realized your elation driving out of the car lot that first day was a farce, all a part of the sales con that got you to invest in something that wasn't really what it seemed.
Jesus wasn't what He seemed. Not at all. Jesus was big on making the sale but not great with the follow-through. Cal was just glad
he hadn't completely bought into His line. He'd been on the edge of closing the deal when the whole thing with his dad and Treena had blown up. He'd only been going to church because of her.
He would have done anything for her.
A moan escaped, and he closed his eyes tight so the tears wouldn't come. Enough of this. It didn't help. Treena was a perfect Christian, an inspiration, the one who'd brought Cal to the edge of commitment. Except for one thing, she'd done everything right. One sin his father would never forgive. Nor obviously God. Because Treena was dead. A good Christian girl was dead. Where was God in that?
Cal started at a tap on the door.
“Daddy?”
He found his voice. “Yeah?”
“Mama says dinners ready.”
“I'm coming.”
Avi stared at the bathroom door. Something was wrong. Before she'd knocked on the door she heard her dad laugh. But it wasn't a nice laugh. It was the kind of laugh people did when they realized things were really dumb.
But then her daddy had moaned, and it sounded like crying. What was he laughing about—and crying about—in the bathroom?
Suddenly, the door opened. Avi took a step back. For just a moment, before her father's face raced by surprise and found normal, she saw a look she'd never seen before: fear.
What does Daddy have to he afraid ofi
He yanked her hair as he walked past. “Last one down has to paint the house.”
“Daddy…” He was so funny.
But she ran fast anyway.
He let her win. As usual.
Annie sat next to Cal on the couch, his arm draped behind her shoulders. They watched some sitcom Cal liked. Annie couldn't have told you if the people on the screen were the main characters or just visiting. They sure talked about sex a lot.
She looked at Avi, sitting at their feet, coloring on the coffee table. She looked back to the TV and heard reference to something she and Cal didn't even talk about in private. This was supposed to be funny?
Avi looked up from her coloring and watched the TV. The mere thought that her innocent child was witnessing such discussions far beyond her years…
She stood and ruffled Avi's hair. “Let's you and I go make some cookies.”
Avi didn't hesitate and slid the orange crayon in the box.
“Hey,” Cal said. “I thought we were watching TV here.”
Annie couldn't get into it in front of Avi. “Go ahead. Or come join us. I'll let you eat some cookie dough.”
Cal scooted deeper into the cushions. “No thanks. But I want one when they're done.”
Annie thought of the Little Red Hen story where no one wanted to help bake the bread, but everyone wanted to eat it.
Avi ran on ahead. “I get to crack the eggs.”
A few eggshells never hurt anyone.
As Annie took the last batch of cookies from the oven she glanced at her watch. Seven fifty-five. She could have been at choir practice now. Meeting new people. Singing wonderful Christmas songs.
If only Cal hadn't been so adamant. His reaction had surprised her, both in its intensity and in the fact that she'd never seen him react like that—about anything—before. What else didn't she know about him?
But that's ridiculous. We've been married ten years. Whatever there is to know about him I already know.
Or did she? She certainly hadn't known he was capable of having an affair.
Forget the what-if of going to choir. She'd made a choice. She had to stick with it.
She moved the cookies from baking sheet to paper towels to cool. Nothing was more comforting than the smell of chocolate chip cookies.
Avi was whipping up a froth of suds with one of the beaters in the sink when suddenly Annie's heart pulled. She was still amazed that at such odd moments the love for her daughter would grab her unaware, as if to remind her dorit take me for granted. This love is something special
This child was something special.
A love child.
Not really. Avi was a child conceived out of lust. Once, Annie had lived the life so readily portrayed on the sitcoms they'd just watched on TV. College had been a time for fun—with a little education on the side. Booze and boys. Usually in combination. One led to the other.
Rick hadn't been her first, but he had been her last before Cal saved her. Why did it often take a crisis to change behavior? She still didn't understand how she'd gotten pregnant. She wasn't dumb. She took precautions. But Avi was conceived and Rick was history.
Good riddance. He was a loser with gorgeous eyes. A whim. A conquest. Annie knew it was usually men who had such a cavalier attitude. But she'd had it, too.
Funny how a person's definition of love changed as they experienced it on different levels. She'd thought she'd experienced love before she met Cal but had soon realized all other loves were tin to the shiny brass of their relationship. The fact he had loved her and the baby growing inside her spoke volumes to his character.
The words she'd found in the verses of 1 Corinthians came to mind. Annie didn't remember many of them, but some had stuck: “Love is patienty love is kind.” Above all, “Love never fails. ”
She felt a sudden need to read them all. But they were in the Bible upstairs, in Avi's cubby, so she couldn't easily… Besides, she'd made her choice to let the God-stuff go.
But the verses on love might really help right now.
She wiped her hands on a towel. “You want to finish up in here, sweet-apple?”
“I like to wash dishes, Mama.”
Annie kissed the back of her head. “I always knew you were weird. Have at it, little girl. I'm going upstairs for a bit.”
Annie walked quietly into the living room, wanting to check on Cal's status. Thankfully, he was asleep on the couch, some cop show playing out in spite of him. She tiptoed up the stairs. She didn't like sneaking, but there was no reason to stir up what didn't need stirring. She slipped into the master bedroom and started to close the door. But a closed door raised suspicions. Best to keep it open. She went into the closet and retrieved the Bible from Avi's cubby. Then she went into the bathroom and shut the door.
She caught her reflection in the mirror and was taken aback by it—and it had nothing to do with the fact the mirror was old and a bit wavy. She didn't need a perfect mirror to see herself clutching the Bible to her chest like it was the Holy Grail. Her eyes were so intense. She rubbed at the crease between her brows. Lighten up, Annie. You're not getting pulled into this again. You re just checking on a few pertinent verses.
She sat on the toilet seat and opened the Bible. The page was marked. The words spoke to her now as they had the first time she'd read them: “Love is patient, love is kind. Lt does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. ”
Why was this kind of love so hard?
She set the Bible on the floor and moved to the sink, leaning against it. How could she love like God wanted her to love when Cal didn't want her to acknowledge the God who would help her love him better? A mouthful. It didn't make sense.
“I shouldn't be in this position!”
There was a tap on the door. “You say something, Annie?”
“No, CaL.uh…”
“Avi woke me to say the timer's ringing.”
“I'll be out in a minute.” She took a step toward the toilet and flushed it.
Then she slid the Bible into the back waistband of her pants and washed her hands. When she caught sight of her eyes in the mirror they were heavy with uncertainty.
Ten
Now it is required
that those who have been given a trust
must prove faithful
1 CORINTHIANS 4:2
As MERRY UNLOCKED THE DOOR of the Steadfast library, she looked at the poster on the door with new inte
rest. It's not as if she hadn't looked at it every day for three weeks, but today…the face of Dr. Rudy Roswold smiled back at her as if sharing an idea. “Of course!”
Blanche and Ivan stood behind her, waiting to get in—as they did every morning within minutes of opening. “Of course what?” Ivan snapped.
Merry held the door open for them but pointed to the poster. “Are you two going to hear Dr. Roswold today at the courthouse?”
“Yes,” Blanche said.
“No,” Ivan said.
Blanche put her hands on the shelf of her hips and glared at him. “How dare you say no, you old kumquat. You, who reads every newspaper Merry gets in? Why wouldn't you want to hear about this man's experiences in Africa?”
He hung his coat on the rack by the door. “I like to read; I don't like to listen.”
“You got that right. What did I say to you last night about this very subject?”
“I wasn't listening.” He headed toward the periodical section with Blanche trailing after him.
“If you don't sit with me, I'll sit with Harold…”
Merry left them to bicker it out while she went to the phone on the counter. She hoped this worked.
What did she have to lose?
Merry waited at the door to the courthouse auditorium and kept checking her watch. She'd invited Annie to the talk but had not received a definite yea or nay. Annie would “try to come.”
Merry hated seeing her friend on the fence with her faith. With happiness. When Annie hadn't shown up at choir, Merry had redoubled her prayers. Then this morning, when she remembered Dr. Roswold was known in Christian circles as a godly man and an inspirational speaker beyond his humanitarian side, she knew she had to make the invitation. She wasn't expecting any specific response from Annie, but hoped if she remained a faithful friend, Annie would come back to her faith.
She nearly clapped when she spotted Annie coming down the wide hall but was shocked by the drawn look on her face. She'd sounded kind of blah on the phone, but Merry had chalked it up to the normal stresses of a weekday morning. But now, seeing her in person, she knew it was something more.
Annie managed a smile. “Hey.”
Merry slipped a hand through her arm. “You okay?”