Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  He remembered when they had nearly sold this home and simply bought a larger one in another neighborhood, but both Sylvia and the kids had wanted to stay where they were, near all the friends they had made and their church. As the managing editor of the newspaper, he could well afford to buy a bigger house now, but this home had always filled their needs. It was warm and comfortable, thanks to Sylvia and her decorating talents.

  Realization smacked him between the eyes as the door opened and Sylvia appeared. He no longer lived here. He was a visitor!

  ❧

  “Hi,” Sylvia said, her voice cracking slightly with pent-up emotion. “Come on in.” She watched Randy move through the door and place his things in the hall. It was obvious he was feeling every bit as awkward as she was.

  He gazed at her, looking first at her hair, then her face, then the new caftan she was wearing. She liked the look she saw in his eyes. Though she felt herself trembling, she willed her voice to remain pleasant and calm. “Supper is nearly ready. Would you like a glass of iced tea or maybe a cup of coffee?”

  “Ah—no. Nothing, thanks.”

  She laughed within herself as she gave him a purposely demure smile. He was wearing a burgundy knit polo shirt that nearly matched the dark burgundy lines surrounding the huge mauve roses in the print of her caftan.

  “You’ve cut your hair,” he said, his eyes still focused on her. “I like it.”

  A flash of warmth rushed to her cheeks at his compliment. “Thank you. I like it, too. The hairdresser said it made me look years younger.” That was a stupid thing to say!

  “It does.”

  But not as young as your precious Chatalaine?

  She gestured toward the living room and his recliner. “Would you like to sit down? I put a couple of your favorite CDs on to play.” Christian CDs. Or don’t you like that kind anymore?

  “Sure. I guess.”

  He followed her into the living room and sat down in what used to be his chair. “Pretty dress. I guess you’d call it a dress. Looks good on you.”

  She lowered herself gracefully onto the chintz sofa and smoothed at the long caftan. “Thank you.”

  “It’s new? I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Yes, new.” I bought it to impress you, hoping you’d like it.

  “How are the kids? I haven’t heard from any of them.”

  “They’re fine. DeeDee and Aaron are working hard on finals. Buck and Shonna are busy getting ready for Christmas. He’s working lots of overtime.” Buck is furious with you! And DeeDee and Aaron will be, too, when they hear you’re deserting your family for that woman!

  “I guess—you’re doing okay. You look wonderful.”

  Doing okay? No, I’m not doing okay! I’m awful! I can’t sleep, can’t eat, cry all day and all night. I’m miserable without you! “I’m—managing. Thank you for the compliment. How are you doing?”

  “Okay. Busy. At the office, you know. Busy time of the year.”

  “Yes, I remember,” she said, fully aware of his rigid position. He must be feeling as awkward in my presence as I feel in his. Two strangers, instead of a man and woman who’ve been married for twenty-five years and have three grown children. “How is your apartment working out?”

  “Other than hearing the elevator go up and down all night, it’s working out fine. I need to get some furniture. The place is still pretty empty.”

  “Is it near your office?” She had wondered where he had moved, but he had never even given her a hint, let alone the address.

  “About a mile. I could walk it, I guess. On nice days.”

  They sat in silence, listening to a gospel medley about God’s love, each avoiding the other’s eyes.

  “I—I think the casserole should be done by now,” Sylvia said, rising. “It’s your favorite.”

  “Not the crab casserole you used to bake for me?”

  The enthusiasm on his face made her smile. “Yes. The crab casserole.”

  He rose and rubbed his hands together briskly. “Sounds like I’m in for a treat!”

  She crooked a finger at him, adding the demure smile once again, and headed for the kitchen, knowing he was following at her heels.

  “Umm, does that smell good.” He made an exaggerated sniff at the air. “I can’t remember the last time you made that casserole.”

  “Far too long ago.” I’m ashamed to admit.

  He moved into his usual chair as she pulled the casserole from the oven and placed it on the iron trivet on the table. “Need any help?”

  She shook her head. “No, I just need to get our salad bowls from the refrigerator, and we’ll be ready to eat.” Once the salad bowls were set in place, she lowered herself into her chair and bowed her head. Normally, Randy prayed at suppertime, but after a few moments of silence, she prayed aloud, a simple prayer thanking God for their food and asking Him to be with their family. She wanted to thank God audibly for bringing Randy back home, but felt it better left unsaid. At least aloud. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel uncomfortable. She wanted to “let her works praise her in the gates”—her own home.

  When she lifted her eyes, she found Randy staring at her. Was it a look of admiration, or resentment, or even tolerance? She couldn’t tell. All she could do was her very best to make him see what he was giving up by moving out. One last look at the life they had shared. Oh, God, make him want to come home for good! Please make him want to come home.

  She offered him the serving spoon. “Go ahead and help yourself while I get the rolls from the oven.”

  “This looks wonderful,” he told her, scooping a huge serving from the casserole dish. “I wasn’t sure you even remembered it was my favorite.”

  I remembered, Randy, I just didn’t care, I guess. I always fixed the things the kids liked, putting your wants and needs aside. You never complained. I just figured it wasn’t important. “I remembered.”

  He took the first bite and chewed it slowly, appearing to savor it by the looks of his contented smile. “I know the kids never liked crab. I sure couldn’t have expected you to go to all the trouble to fix the crab casserole for me. You had enough to do.”

  “I like it, too. I wish now I had fixed it for you.”

  He looked up, his dark eyes fixed on her. “I do, too, Sylvia.”

  “Have a roll. They’re nice and hot,” she said quickly, needing to change the subject.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you ready for coffee?”

  He sent a gentle smile her way and pointed to her still empty plate. “Eat, Sylvia, while everything is hot. I can wait on the coffee. The water is fine.”

  They finished their supper in near silence, their only conversation forced. Sylvia tried to relax, but it was hard. She wanted to throw herself into Randy’s arms and beg him to come back to her.

  When they had finished and nearly all the casserole was gone, Randy leaned back in the chair with a satisfied sigh, linking his fingers across his chest. “That’s the best meal I’ve had in a long time. Thanks, Sylvia.”

  “You’re welcome.” She gave him an impish grin. “If you had your choice of desserts, what would it be?”

  “Lemon meringue pie, of course,” he answered without hesitation. “Don’t tell me—”

  “Yes,” she said smiling with pride as she rose and pulled her beautiful pie from the cabinet. “Lemon meringue pie.” For a moment, she thought Randy was going to cry. The look he gave her was one she had not seen in a long time, and it tugged at her heartstrings.

  “I know you’re doing all these nice things in hope I’ll change my mind—about the divorce—but, Sylvia, I am going to go through with it. I don’t want you to get the idea that things are going to change just because you’ve fixed my favorite foods.”

  Now she wanted to cry, but instead, she pasted on a smile. “Let’s not discuss the divorce. For this week, that word is off-limits. We made a deal, remember? And I plan to honor my end of the bargain. Give me this one week, Randy, as
you’ve promised. This one last Christmas together, okay?”

  He nodded, and she could tell his smile was as false as hers.

  “Good, let’s enjoy our pie.” She cut generous wedges for each of them, then filled their coffee cups.

  “Oh, babe, that’s good,” Randy said, taking his first bite. Then he seemed embarrassed that he had called her babe, the pet name he had used the first few years of their marriage.

  She ignored his embarrassment as she forked up her own bite of the delicious pie. She had to admit it was one of the best lemon meringue pies she had ever baked. She hadn’t lost her touch. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Randy. I’d hoped you would.”

  “I guess I should offer to help load the dishwasher,” he said, placing his fork on his plate and folding up his napkin.

  “I’d like that.” Normally, before she had gone off to college, DeeDee helped her mother with the clearing of the table and the dishwasher loading. To her recollection, Randy had never helped with the dishes. He had been too busy with his studies the first four years of their marriage. After he graduated, he had worked at two jobs to make ends meet so she could quit work and stay home to raise their family. Since that time, she had always been a stay-at-home mom, and he had never needed to take part in household chores.

  Maybe he should have! Then he’d have a better idea of what I’ve been doing for this family all these years. Things, apparently, he’s taken for granted.

  He gave her an I-really-didn’t-mean-it smile, stood, and began stacking up their plates and silverware. “You’ll have to show me how to do it.”

  “It’s quite simple.” She took the plates and silverware from him and rinsed them off under the faucet before handing them back to him. “Plates stand on end in those little slots on the bottom shelf. Silverware goes in the basket. Glasses and cups upside-down on the top shelf, saucers same place as the plates.”

  She watched him awkwardly place the dishes where she had told him. “One capful of dish soap goes in the dispenser, then swing the lid closed, shut the door, and latch it.”

  Once the dishwasher was in operation and the rest of the table cleared, with things put where they belonged in the cabinets and refrigerator, she shook the tablecloth, stuffed it into the laundry basket in the utility room, and placed the colorful basket of silk flowers back on the table. “That’s that! Let’s go into the family room. A letter came in today’s mail from DeeDee addressed to both of us. I haven’t opened it yet.”

  He followed her, heading for the cushy green leather recliner—his recliner. But he stopped midroom as if remembering the last time he had tried to sit in that chair and she had chastised him, saying he no longer belonged in it.

  “Go ahead,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned, but remembering that same incident as vividly as if it had happened that very evening. “We bought it especially for you. Remember?”

  He moved into the chair cautiously, settling himself down and propping up the footrest.

  Sylvia watched with great interest, wishing she had a camera to capture his picture. He belonged in that chair, in this house, not in some high-rise apartment. She pulled a footstool up close to his chair and opened the note from their daughter, reading it aloud.

  Dear Mom and Dad.

  I was sitting here in my room, listening to my roommate complain about her parents, and I suddenly realized how lucky I am to have been born to the two of you. Mom, you’re the greatest. You always put your kids’ needs ahead of your own and were always there for us, doing the little things that made our childhood so happy and carefree.

  Sylvia’s heart swelled with happiness at her daughter’s words. She went on without so much as a sideways glance at Randy. She knew one look in his direction and she’d lose it.

  Dad, you work too hard. I wish you hadn’t had to spend so much time at the newspaper, and I know I used to gripe about it all the time, especially when you had to miss my volleyball and basketball games. But now that I am older, I realize you did it because you loved me, and you wanted to provide all the things for us kids that you never had and to be able to send Buck and Aaron and me to college.

  Sylvia was sure she heard a distinct sigh coming from the cushy green leather chair, but she read on, sure their daughter’s words were affecting him as much as they were her.

  I’ve never thanked you two properly, but I want you to know I love you both and appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me. If my life ever amounts to anything, it’ll be because of the two of you and the way you love the Lord and the witness you have been to me. Maybe now that Aaron and I are gone, you two can do some of the things you’ve put on hold while we were growing up. I pray for you every day, asking God to protect you and keep you both well. I’ll see you December twenty-fourth. With love, your daughter, DeeDee.

  When she finished, she folded the note and slipped it back into its envelope, not sure what to say or if she should just remain quiet. When Randy didn’t speak, she rose, crossed the room, and placed the envelope on the coffee table.

  “She’s—she’s a great kid, isn’t she?” he finally asked, after clearing his throat.

  “Yes, she is. All three of our kids are great kids.”

  “You’ve done a good job with them. I’m—I’m afraid I can’t take much of the credit.”

  She moved back to the footstool and seated herself, smiling up at him, ignoring the ache in her heart. “I wouldn’t have been able to be a stay-at-home mom if you hadn’t worked so hard to provide for us.”

  “But it took me away from home. I missed the kids’ games, their school activities, so many things.”

  She gave his arm a tender pat. “But you were at church with us most Sundays, and you’ve served faithfully on the church board all these years.

  “You—you still haven’t told them—about—”

  “No, I haven’t, and I’m sure Buck hasn’t either, and I don’t intend to, Randy. When and if the time comes, you’ll have to be the one to do it.”

  He leaned his head against the headrest and stared off in space. “It is going to happen, Sylvia. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I nearly asked you for a divorce last summer, before you and the kids went to Colorado to attend that Christian camp, but I thought it might be easier on everyone if I waited until DeeDee and Aaron went off to college.”

  “Easier on them? Or easier on you?” she prodded gently, wishing right away she had kept her question to herself. “Don’t answer that,” she added quickly. “We’re putting all that behind us now. I had no business even asking.”

  He gave her a faint smile, then closed his eyes. “This chair is comfortable. Feels like it was made for me.”

  She reached out and pulled his shoe off, and when he didn’t protest, she pulled the other one off and placed them on the floor beside the chair. “I know.”

  “The music’s nice.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  For the next few hours, they sat listening to the stack of CDs she had put on the player. Randy in his recliner, Sylvia stretched out on the chintz sofa. As the last song played and the room became silent, Sylvia heard a faint snore coming from the recliner. Randy was fast asleep.

  She tiptoed into the hall, quietly picked up his suitcase and garment bag, and carried them up the stairs and into their room. She hung his garments in his nearly empty closet, then placed his suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed. She nearly unpacked it for him—and would have before their separation. But now it seemed like an invasion of his privacy, and she did not want to upset him by doing something that might offend him.

  After washing her face and reapplying a faint trace of the rose-colored lipstick, she rubbed a sweet-smelling body lotion on her face and arms and slipped into the pink, lacy gown she had bought when she had been shopping for the other items she planned to wear during their week together. Before she left the room, she fell to her knees by the bed and asked God to be with the two of them and to give her the grace to
be patient, loving, and kind. Lastly, she asked Him to keep her from saying things she shouldn’t and to bring Randy back home for good—home where he belonged.

  He was still sleeping in the chair when she came back into the family room, his head twisted to one side, his arms resting on the armrests. He looked like a little boy, and she wanted to kiss his sweet face. She could not remember the last time he had fallen asleep in that chair.

  “Randy,” she said softly, giving his shoulder an easy shake. “It’s nearly eleven. Time to go to bed.”

  He sat up with a start, blinking as if he had to get his bearings. “How—how long have I been asleep?”

  She reached out and gave his hand a tug. “Probably an hour.”

  He lowered the footrest and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “I–I’ll get my things,” he said, heading toward the front hall.

  “They’re already in our room.”

  He gave her a wild stare. “I—I was planning on sleeping in the guest room.”

  “This is still your home, Randy, at least until midnight Christmas Day. You’ll be sleeping in our bed tonight, where you belong.”

  Eight

  He backed away from her, holding his palms up between them. “I—I don’t think so.”

  She stepped toward him, determined to make her plans work out as she had envisioned them. “We do have a king-sized bed. There’s plenty of room for both of us. I’ll sleep on my side. You sleep on yours.”

  When he did not respond with more than a doubtful grunt, she added, trying to keep her voice sweet and on an even keel, “You do plan to keep your part of the bargain, don’t you?”

  He gave a defeated shrug and headed for the stairs without answering. As soon as he reached their room, he unzipped his suitcase and pulled out what looked to be a brand new pair of pajamas, still bearing the creases from their packaging. Sylvia muffled a laugh. Although she’d bought him a number of pairs of nice men’s pajamas during the years they’d been married, he’d always refused to wear them, opting for a T-shirt and boxers, saying only old men in hospitals or care homes wore pajamas.