“Kiss me.”
“Let me finish here first, Mike.”
He turned her around and was surprised that a smile didn’t break out. She was so generous with her smiles. “What is it?”
“I feel like we need to talk, but you’re not going to like it. I suppose I could just let it go, but …”
“No, what is it? We promised we’d be honest with each other.” He drew her firmly back to the table and stood over her until she sat down.
She stared at her hands, folded in her lap, and Michael had a flashback to the many times he’d stared at the top of her bowed head. Her body language reminded him of their marriage as it used to be.
Swallowing hard, he pulled his chair closer to hers and sat. “What is it? Tell me.”
She spoke to her hands—an annoying habit, but he didn’t mention it. He’d learned to keep all his unkind opinions to himself. He loved her for herself, quirky behavior included.
He wasn’t going to pick at her to be better, stronger, a full partner. He understood that she was capable of only so much. Look at the way she’d dropped out of that LPN program. He’d expected her to quit. Jeanie had been a quitter since the time they’d met. When he offered her a way out, she’d grabbed it. Just like she’d grabbed a chance to get out of doing book work for the café. He’d checked her figures when she wasn’t looking, and she made too many mistakes. He’d been quietly correcting them, but it took him so long that he might as well be doing the work himself.
“I’m thinking of moving out.”
Michael froze. Even his thoughts quit. His mind went blank as her words hit him out of nowhere.
“I don’t want to, but I don’t think this is working. I spend time every day being scared of your temper.”
Then his mind clicked back into place—a bad place. “My temper?” Michael slammed his fist on the table, and she jumped. Well, she ought to jump. He’d been working his heart out controlling his temper, and now she said she was scared?
“I’m not happy, Michael. Things were going pretty well before you were hurt, but even before that you were going back to the old habits of insulting me, finding fault with me. But I was handling it. I was standing up to you, and you were taking it well. But I—I guess my ability to be brave around you has wilted since you’ve been hurt. I’ve been working harder and harder to keep you happy, but it’s not because I love you.” She looked up, staring him straight in the eye. “I do love you. There’s so much about you to love. But … maybe it’s me … maybe the way you act is perfectly normal and I’m the one with the problem. But I’m afraid of you. And I hate that. I hate it that my heart races when I know the hamburgers are a little bit burnt.”
“I didn’t complain.”
“I was already worried before you came in the room. No, you didn’t complain, but you were annoyed and fighting to control it. If you think you’re good at covering that up, you’re not. And you did make wisecracks. You can’t quite control that.”
“What did I say?”
“I didn’t write it down.” Jeanie surged to her feet. “I hate the racing heart, the fear, the tension. I remember this from before. The feeling that I should be taking notes, detailing all your insults and slights, because they’re usually small, just tiny cuts, none of them so bad by themselves, and yet, by the time you’re done, I’m bleeding to death. I annoyed you with supper. I annoy you when I’m not an enthusiastic partner. I just plain annoy you by existing. You think—”
“Jeanie.” He stood and his height made it easy for him to look down on her. “I made a point of not saying a single thing even though the meal was cold and burnt. You can’t leave me because of things I didn’t say. The whole point of us working on this marriage is that I’ve got a—a control-freak problem. I know that. I like everything done just exactly to suit me. But you have your own ways. I’m respecting that. You’re just … I don’t know … projecting old feelings onto me. You’re remembering what I’d have said before and blaming me for that now. When have I yelled? When have I done anything to scare you?”
“I’m scared of you right now.” Jeanie stood and squared her shoulders. “If this were the day after you first came back, I’d call the pastor and make him throw you out.”
His lips formed a tight line, and Jeanie took a step back.
That movement made his stomach dive. “Are you afraid I’ll hit you?”
“No. You’ve never been like that. That’s not where my fear is rooted. I just … I—” She swung her arms wide and turned her back. “It probably is my fault. If I had more confidence, maybe I could take your temper and your contempt and shrug it off.”
“Contempt? Jeanie, I haven’t treated you with contempt. I haven’t.”
She turned back to him, her arms crossed tight over her chest, her whole body wrapped around itself, cutting him out, saying, “Stay back.” She looked up, and he saw the fear, the unhappiness.
“Wh—” Her voice broke. “What are we going to do?”
God, please don’t let this dream slip away from me. Help me. Open my eyes to what she needs to get over this baseless fear.
The prayer helped. Michael pulled in a deep breath, letting go of the anger and, yes, his own fear. He had fears, too, that their marriage would be ruined a second time. He reached out his good hand. “Let’s pray together.”
Their eyes held. The distrust in Jeanie’s expression broke his heart. Finally, that kindness, that generosity of spirit he craved and loved and needed as much as he needed air overcame the distrust. She gave him the very best part of herself. The part he’d taken advantage of since the day they’d met.
She took his hand. “Yes, you’re right. Instead of saying I was leaving, I should have said, ‘We need to pray together.’”
At the end of their prayer, Michael leaned down to kiss her, to really get the marriage back to the footing they’d been on before he’d fallen.
She turned away. “No, Michael. I’m not ready for that yet.” She left him to go to her solitary room.
Left him. She hadn’t moved out, but hadn’t she really left him in her own way?
God, change her heart.
Michael caught himself. He raised both hands to his face, wishing he could wipe the anger and impatience from his mind. That wasn’t the right prayer. Or at least not the only prayer he needed.
God, change my heart.
twenty-three
I can’t change him. I have to accept that. God, help me love him for exactly who he is. Heal this fear in me. Give me courage, strength, wisdom.
He’d been trying; Jeanie had to admit that. But watching Michael try to control his temper was almost as bad as the temper itself, because he was terrible at pretending. Jeanie’s heart raced when he walked around with the black cloud overhead.
Buffy came in to have coffee at the café almost every day. Jeanie felt a new closeness to her little sister, but the fly in the ointment was the way Buffy scowled at Michael and Michael’s refusal to sign those papers. The time was nearly gone; Sally would be Buffy’s soon.
“I don’t know why you have to hassle Michael. He just hates the thought of signing his name to that paper, but he’s not going to do anything to stop the adoption.”
“You don’t know that. You said he refuses to talk about it.”
Jeanie had said that. And it was probably true. But honestly, she’d never pushed him, never even brought it up. She dreaded imagining how he’d fly off the handle, maybe do something rash like protest the adoption.
If they were just quiet and let the deadline come and go, everything would be fine.
Michael brought the men in as he always did for morning coffee break, and Jeanie spent the fifteen minutes jumping and waiting on them all before Michael could snap at her. He was trying. Since she’d threatened to leave him, she could tell he was trying.
When they left, Jeanie sank back down beside Buffy at the table nearest the front window. They could look out at the trees lining the creek and the mount
ain peaks that soared behind them. The neat cabins were nearly done. Tourists were staying in nearly all of the finished buildings.
The café phone rang, and Jeanie went to get it just as Emily came into view through the window. Stephie was with her, but the little girl ran off. She had a lot of friends in town, so she was no doubt going visiting.
Jeanie listened, tears burning her eyes. Grieving, she hung up the phone.
Emily looked up and was on her feet immediately. “What’s wrong?”
Buffy came to Jeanie’s side right behind Emily.
“The nursing home called. Janet Lessman died.”
Buffy rubbed Jeanie’s back. “She’d been doing badly for a while, hadn’t she?”
“She was my last remaining hospice patient. I hadn’t realized the end was so imminent. I failed that sweet lady and the whole Lessman family when they needed me most.”
Emily and Buffy hugged her.
Jeanie dabbed at her eyes and looked up to catch a strange, serious look pass between her sister and her best friend.
“And why do you think you failed them?” Emily guided Jeanie toward the table.
“Because I did. I haven’t really been in to see her since …” Jeanie couldn’t say it.
Buffy had no trouble. “Since Michael came back.”
Emily said, “Jeanie, we have to talk.”
“Mike, we have to talk.”
Michael looked away from the door he’d just finished hanging on the last cabin. “Sure, Jake, what is it?”
“Take a walk, okay?” Jake’s eyes went to the other men working nearby. “Its private.”
Wondering what was up, Michael swung the door shut and heard the latch click shut solidly. Perfect. With a satisfied smile, he turned and walked along with Jake. “What’s up?”
Jake didn’t speak until they’d put quite a bit of distance between themselves and the carpenters. Some problem must have come up on the cabins. Michael was a great problem solver, so he prepared to hear about it and fix it.
As they reached the far side of the café that contained the bait and tackle shop, which didn’t open for a while yet, Jake stopped, his arms crossed. “What’s going on with you and Jeanie?”
That came out of left field. Michael shook his head a little to shift gears from work. “Nothing’s going on. Why?”
“Emily and Buffy are in the café right now talking to her. We’re really worried. She’s changed. When you first came back, after the rugged beginning you two had, it looked like things were going well. But not anymore. She’s not happy. And neither are you, Mike.”
Michael had focused on Jake. Now he saw Pastor Bert had joined them. From the serious expression on both men’s faces, Michael knew they’d planned this.
twenty-four
“We’ve barely spoken in the last weeks, Jeanie.” Emily patted Logan on the back. “We used to talk all the time. Now we barely say hello at church.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve been almost housebound with a new baby and an overprotective husband. Why haven’t you come out to visit?”
“I—I was going to. Then Michael got hurt and—”
“And the gift you sent—you ordered it online, didn’t you?”
Jeanie shook her head to clear it. “You didn’t like the gift Michael and I gave you?”
“I loved it. That’s not the point. You didn’t go shopping. You didn’t come to visit.”
“And you didn’t help the Lessman family,” Buffy added.
“I feel terrible about that.” Hurt crept up along with anger at this strange conversation. “And shopping isn’t worth the effort when Michael’s so busy.”
“What does that have to do with anything? You don’t need Michael to buy a present.”
“It’s not worth—” Jeanie stopped before she admitted it wasn’t worth putting up with Michael’s scorn if she went to the city alone. Or putting up with his scorn if he had to drive her. She’d had the present overnighted, and she’d put up with his scorn for how much shipping cost.
Jeanie’s jaw tightened.
“The thing is—,” Buffy began.
Jeanie put up her hand. “I get it now. This is about Michael.”
“This is about us loving you, Jeanie.” Buffy said. “And we want you and Michael to be happy. And you’re not.” Silence stretched between the three women.
Jeanie thought of a dozen things to say, all full of defending herself and excusing Michael. Finally, she thought it through to the end and knew. “You’re right.” Why had Jeanie let it happen? Because she had. Michael had been a tyrant, but Jeanie had put up with it, almost without a whimper. “All the little cuts. Even if every little insult is true and he acts like he’s trying to protect me and help poor, dumb little me, it’s still wrong.”
“Jeanie, you’re not dumb. Stop.” Emily rested her hand on Jeanie’s arm, and Jeanie realized that the two of them were facing her, almost as if they intended to hold her prisoner here until she admitted they were right.
Well, they wouldn’t have long to wait. “You’re right. I’m not dumb. I can drive in Rapid City. I was getting top grades in my LPN class. I’m not incompetent. He’s not protecting me. He’s cutting me off from my friends and my family and making me dependent on only him.”
Some of the creases eased from Buffy’s face, worry replaced by hope. “How can we help you?”
Jeanie ran her hand through her ridiculously blond hair. She realized she had heavy makeup on and a dress and high heels. And her heart was a mess—soiled, angry, and afraid all the time. All the surface changes had changed her inside for the worse. But no more. “Maybe you could help me find my bat.”
twenty-five
“What’s this about?”
The look in Pastor Bert’s eyes sent an odd chill of fear up Michael’s spine.
“This is about the pathetic mess you are making of your marriage.” Pastor Bert squared off in front of Michael, Jake at his side. “You need to come to grips with what you’re doing to Jeanie.”
“Is this some kind of … joke?” Michael asked, thrown by this sudden confrontational situation.
“No.” Jake’s eyes warmed with concern. “We care about you and Jeanie. We want you to be happy. At first you seemed to be working things out, but lately things have gone wrong.”
Pastor Bert nodded. “I watched Jeanie change since you’ve been back.”
“And I’ve worked with you enough to know all the gifts you have. I respect your talents and intelligence. Your faith, too,” Jake added.
“We’re just fine. I appreciate your concern.” Michael shook his head. The word denial crept into his thoughts.
“I’ve seen you change just in the few months since you’ve been in Cold Creek.” Jake stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the pastor, his expression grim. “Not so much at work as with Jeanie. You’ve started being unkind, hurting her.”
“No, I haven’t. We’ve worked through our problems. We’re happy now. We’re in counseling and—”
Pastor Bert cut him off. “You’re not in counseling to my knowledge.”
“We meet weekly with you.”
“Past tense. I haven’t seen you for far too long. But I have seen Jeanie give up all her work of service to Cold Creek.”
“She was doing too much. She isn’t available for everyone to take advantage of anymore.” Michael had saved her from that life of endless demands.
“That work meant a lot to her.” Pastor Bert looked straight into Michael’s eyes. “And you’ve cut her off from that and made her into a quiet, isolated shadow of her former self.”
Michael’s heart sank at the pastor’s unflinching stare. This was a man he respected, and he’d thought Bert respected him. Bristling, Michael scowled, ready to throw this all back at them. He’d go somewhere else then, to a town that would appreciate all he could do for them. There were people who’d be grateful.
The door to the café slammed open, and Jeanie came out flanked by Buff
y and Emily. From the intent look on his wife’s face, Michael knew she’d been getting this same kind of scolding he had.
Jeanie moved so she stood between the other men and Michael. She’d tell them. She’d make sure they knew this wasn’t appreciated. She’d take his side and—
She turned to face him. Somehow she was standing with them, against him. Emily and Buffy added themselves to the lineup confronting him.
Except Jeanie’s expression wasn’t confrontational; it was kind. She reached forward and took his hands. Her eyes, so blue, so sweet, were looking at him like … like she felt sorry for him.
“When you first came back, we heard what Pastor Bert had to say, and we made a commitment to change, but we’re not living up to our commitment. And that’s my fault.”
Feeling a little less stunned, Michael tried to listen, tried to ignore this ridiculous business and just give Jeanie all the help she needed.
“It’s my fault because I’ve been letting you hurt me, Mike.”
“Hurt you?”
“Yes, and whether that’s my problem, left over from childhood, or your problem because you need to control me, I still shouldn’t have put up with it. I’ve swallowed all the little cuts, the slights, the insults.”
“Like what? What have I ever said to you that wasn’t kind?”
Jeanie glanced over her shoulder at Pastor Bert, who now stood behind her in a row with Buffy, Emily, and Jake, standing like guard dogs protecting her from the man who was supposed to love her as Christ loved the church.
Michael felt deeply and shockingly and painfully alone.
Jeanie reached into her pocket. “This isn’t scriptural. What’s the verse, Pastor Bert? About not keeping track of when people sin against you.”
Bert smiled. “It’s from the Love Chapter, 1 Corinthians 13. ‘Love does not keep track of other people’s wrongs.’”
Jeanie held up a roll of paper that looked like it had been torn off a cash register receipt roll, and shook it.
Bossy Bridegroom Page 14