Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  “Oh, look, here’s a picture of my mom in that old car my dad had.”

  “And here’s another one of the two of us paddling that old canoe we rented at the boathouse.”

  Randy let out a raucous laugh. “As I recall, you lost hold of your paddle and turned us over when you tried to reach for it.”

  She punched his shoulder playfully. “Me? I wasn’t the one who lost that paddle; it was you, Randy Benson! You turned us over!”

  “Oh, there’s a picture of Buddy Gilbert. Remember him? He spent more time in the principal’s office than he did in the classroom. That kid was always in trouble.”

  She flipped over several pages and pointed to a full-page picture of the two of them, taken after their wedding by the photographer. “We made a handsome couple, didn’t we? Look how happy we were. I was so excited about being Mrs. Randy Benson, I couldn’t get the smile off my face. I felt like a fairy princess in that dress. And look at that flashy tuxedo you were wearing. What a handsome groom you were.”

  “I’ll never forget how beautiful you looked in that dress.”

  Her pulse quickened. “I—I don’t want you to forget, Randy.”

  The lines bracketing his mouth tightened, and she wondered if, once again, she had gone too far. “Do you have any of Buck’s baby pictures in here?”

  She flipped a couple more pages, then pointed to the picture of a preemie wearing the funny little hat they put on tiny newborns. “He’s only a few hours old in that picture. Can you believe that tiny baby is now over six feet tall and extremely healthy? God did a miracle in his life.”

  Randy gazed at the picture, touching it with his fingertips. “I was so scared, Syl. I was so afraid we’d lose him.”

  She carefully leaned her head onto his shoulder, hoping and praying he would not push her away. “Me, too. I knew how much you wanted a son.”

  “And now we have two sons.”

  “And DeeDee.” She sat up and flipped another page. “Look, there’s a picture of our twins. So many of the nurses remarked how cute they were. Nothing skinny about those two.”

  “I expected you to have a hard delivery when the doctor told us how big they were. Look at Aaron’s fist! That boy came out ready to do battle.”

  “Aaron has always reminded me more of you than Buck. He and DeeDee both have your coloring and your dark, curly hair. Buck is more like me.”

  Randy took her hand and gave it a pat. “He not only looks more like you, he has your same patience and disposition. Lucky kid!”

  “Here, I want you to see the pictures we took that time we all went on vacation to Branson, Missouri.” She flipped a few more pages.

  “What a trip that was. Why did we ever decide to camp out in that big tent rather than stay at a motel? It rained every day we were there.”

  She let out a giggle at the thought. “Everything we owned was drenched. As I remember, that tent molded before it dried out, and we had to throw it away. Your idea of camping out wasn’t such a good idea after all, but the kids had fun.”

  He reared back. “My idea of camping? It was your idea.”

  “But you’re the one who always talked about the fun you had camping out when you were a boy!”

  “In the backyard! If it rained, all I had to do was grab my pillow and blanket and go in the house.”

  Sylvia planted her hands on her hips. “I never wanted to camp out. I only suggested it because you had talked about it so much. I never realized you’d only done it in your backyard!”

  “I guess the joke was on both of us.”

  They went through all three albums, reminiscing with each page, laughing, sometimes crying, sometimes just remaining silent, and enjoying their memories. So many times, Sylvia thought Randy was on the brink of saying something, especially when she could see tears in his eyes. Sometimes she thought she saw a flicker of love, but he remained silent. Close to her at times. Withdrawn at other times.

  “Our twenty-five years might not have been perfect, Randy, but they were ours. Yours and mine. We created a life together because we loved one another and wanted to spend our years together. I’ve never once been sorry I said ‘I do,’ and I’ve never stopped loving you, and I never will, no matter what happens.”

  “Syl—”

  “Don’t say it, sweetheart. I know you don’t want to hear that right now, but I have to let you know how I feel.” She motioned toward his recliner. “Why don’t you take a little nap while I fix dinner? I’ll wake you when we’re ready to eat.”

  “I can help—”

  Deciding her emotions had already been yanked around enough for one day and needing a few private minutes to herself, she held up a palm. “Not this time, Randy. Rest.”

  “But—”

  “Please. Let’s do this my way, okay?”

  She hurried into the kitchen and checked the oven. The beef roast she had put in to bake that morning was just right. She scurried into the dining room, put her lace tablecloth on the table, and set it with her most delicate china and silverware. In the center of the table, she put a fresh pine candle ring, the one she and Randy had purchased at the YMCA lot when they had bought their Christmas tree, and added a big, fat red candle in the center. She lit the candle and stood back, admiring its beauty, then lit the candelabras on the highly polished buffet, giving the entire room a soft, romantic glow.

  Once the gravy was made, the potatoes and carrots put into their serving bowls, squares of homemade cranberry salad placed on lettuce leaves, and the corn bread browned just right and everything placed on the table, she removed her apron, checked her appearance in the pantry mirror, and went into the family room to awaken her husband.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he told her as she came into the room. “I’ve been thinking about all those pictures you’ve put in those albums. It must’ve taken you weeks to arrange them like that and add all those notes under each photograph.”

  “Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet with an inward smile as she remembered the verse the Lord had given her. “Like most of the things I do, Randy, it was a labor of love. Come on. Dinner’s ready.”

  He stopped at the archway leading into the dining room, his eyes wide. “Wow, you’re going all out. Is that round thing what we bought when we got the Christmas tree? That thing around the candle?”

  She moved to her place at the table, pleased that he noticed it. “Yes, do you like it? It smells wonderful. It’s bayberry.”

  He hurried around the table and pushed her chair in as she sat down, then moved to his own seat. “Umm, brown gravy.”

  “I—I thought maybe—rather than having one of us pray—we might recite the Lord’s Prayer together.”

  “If you want to.”

  She bowed her head and closed her eyes, folding her hands in her lap. “Our Father, which art in heaven.” She paused, but not hearing Randy, went on. Eventually, he joined in with her, but she could tell there was no enthusiasm in his tone, and she almost wished she had not suggested it. “For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

  “This is nice, the two of us eating in the dining room like this.” He heaped a huge helping of mashed potatoes on his plate, then reached for the gravy boat. “We should’ve done this more often.”

  “I tried a number of times, even had the table set and a special meal fixed, but then something would happen at the newspaper, a press would quit working, a paper delivery didn’t show up on time, or some other catastrophe would happen, and you’d call and say you weren’t going to make it home for dinner.”

  His face grew serious. “I’m sorry, Syl, I didn’t know. You never complained about it.”

  “I didn’t want to add to your problems. You had enough to take care of.”

  “Guess you haven’t been too happy these past few years, either.”

  She shook her head vigorously. She had to make him understand. “That’s n
ot true! I have been happy. However, I would have been happier if you and I could’ve had more time together; but I understood, sweetheart. Honest I did! I knew you would’ve preferred being home with your family—” She drew in a deep breath as visions of Randy asking her for a divorce on Thanksgiving Day came back to haunt her. “Or—or at least I thought you would.”

  “I—I used to want that, but I never realized you did, too. You seemed to have more interest in the family cat than you did me. I’ve felt like an outsider in my own home for more times than I can remember, Syl. You shut me out. You and the kids. Sometimes I felt like none of you cared if I lived or died, as long as the paycheck continued.”

  She bristled. “That’s a rotten thing to say, Randy Benson! I’m just glad the children aren’t here to hear you make such a ridiculous statement! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Or do you even care about my feelings?” She swallowed hard and let out a long, low breath of air as she glanced at her watch. “We have to stop this. We only have three hours until midnight. I want those three hours to be pleasant, not a shouting match.”

  He nodded but did not look at her, just moved his carrots around on his plate.

  “How’s the roast?”

  He raised his head slightly and gave her a weak smile. “Perfect. Best I’ve ever had. You’re a terrific cook.”

  “Thank you.” Sylvia tried to appear calm on the outside, but inside she was seething. Why did I let him bait me like that? I wanted this evening to be perfect, one that would make Randy see what he was giving up if he left me, and what did I do? Nagged at him like some cartoon figure! Three hours! Lord, what shall I do? I’m all out of ideas. I felt sure that once Randy spent this week in our home, being reminded of the vows we took and the lives we’ve lived for the past twenty-five years, he’d want to come home. But now—I’m wondering if he, too, is counting the minutes until midnight—so he can get out of here, away from me! She could not stop them. Tears flooded down her cheeks like a sudden rainstorm on a spring day.

  Randy noticed and, hurrying around the table, put his arm about her. “Syl, are you okay? Aren’t you feeling well?”

  She turned away from him and got up from her chair. “I’m sorry, Randy. I never meant to spoil our evening. Give me a few minutes, okay? I’ll be fine. Finish your dinner.” With that, she rushed from the room and up the stairs, seeking the solitude of their bedroom.

  ❧

  Randy stood by, helplessly watching her leave the room. Randy, old boy, that was some smooth move. Are you so concerned about how you feel that you’ve forgotten other people have feelings, too?

  He sat back down and tried to eat, but the guilt he felt for mouthing off made the food wad up in his stomach. Sylvia had been nothing but kind to him all week, going out of her way to prepare the foods she knew he liked, taking him to places he hadn’t been in years, and doing so many other things.

  He placed his fork on his plate and leaned back in the chair, staring into the flame of the candle. She didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, yet what else could he do? It was not fair to get her hopes up. Their marriage was over. Had been for years, as far as he was concerned. She did not care about him. Not really. Otherwise, she would have realized how he felt long ago. She would have changed and done something about it.

  She would have changed? She would have done something about it? That still, small voice said from deep within his heart. What about you? Did you make any attempt to change into the man she wanted you to be? Did you once even consider her happiness, as well as your own? Don’t let these last three hours slip by. This is Christmas Day, Randy. You’re not a selfish man. Surely, one day of the year you can put Sylvia first and forget about yourself.

  “I’m sorry, Randy. Please forgive me.”

  He turned to see Sylvia standing in the archway, and she was smiling. “Nothing to forgive, Syl. I was as much to blame as you, maybe more.”

  She reached out her hand as she moved toward him. “Can we start the evening over?”

  He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. “I’d like that.”

  Once they were seated, Sylvia picked up the platter of corn bread and passed it to him. “It’s kinda cold now. I could heat it for you.”

  He took it from her hands with a genuine smile. “It’s fine, Syl, just like it is.”

  The rest of the meal was pleasant as each of the Bensons went out of their way to avoid confrontation or any mention of the divorce. “Would you like to wait a bit before having dessert?” she asked him when they had finished. “Later, in the family room with another cup of coffee?”

  “Sounds good to me.” He rose quickly. “Let me help you with the cleanup.”

  “I don’t want to waste a minute of the few hours we have left,” she told him as she picked up the roast platter. “I’m going to put things in the refrigerator and leave the dishes until later.” They carried things to the kitchen, placing the dirty dishes in the sink, then headed back to the family room.

  ❧

  “Sit by me, Randy.” Sylvia patted the sofa cushion beside her.

  He glanced at his watch, then stood gazing at her for a few moments before moving to her side and resting his head on the sofa’s high back. “Sure hope the kids made it to Colorado okay.”

  Scooting a tad closer to him, she leaned her head on his shoulder, taking in his nearness, the smell of him, and the slight sound of his breathing. No matter what the future held, she wanted to capture this moment forever in her memory. She and her beloved, sitting close to one another, watching the lights twinkle merrily on the tree, listening to Christmas music extolling their Savior’s birth. Would there be more nights like this, or would this be the last one?

  Taking her hand in his, he caressed it with his thumb, causing her heart to do a flip-flop. Even after all these years, just his touch made her tremble.

  “Are you cold?” Randy slipped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her to him. “That better?”

  She nodded and snuggled up close. She wanted so much to tell him how she loved him, how much she wanted him to stay, but the words would not come. Maybe you’ve said too much already, My child. She flinched as the still, small voice spoke from deep within her heart.

  But, God, I have so little time left! I have to make Randy see how important it is that we stay together as husband and wife!

  Perhaps, if you’d worked as hard at trying to please Randy these past few years as you have this week, he wouldn’t have considered leaving you, the voice answered in a kind way. Yes, raising your children was important; it was a job I called you to do. And all the things you did for other people, to please and serve Me, were important, too, but not at the cost of putting your husband last.

  I—I never meant to put him last, and part of it was his fault. He was always so busy—

  And you weren’t? the small voice asked.

  Yes, I was busy. Too busy. However, I can’t take the whole blame. What about that woman? That Chatalaine person?

  “Syl, are you sure you’re not coming down with a cold or something?” Randy asked.

  His voice pulled her from her thoughts. “A cold? No, I—I don’t think so, I’m just—just, well, you know. It’s nearly midnight.”

  He checked his watch again. “I know.”

  Pressing back tears, she forced a smile and jumped to her feet. “Why don’t I fix us some hot cocoa? Doesn’t that sound good? With marshmallows on top like we used to fix for the kids.”

  He gave her the sideways grin she always loved. “Only if we can have some of those cookies we baked to go with it.”

  “You got it!” She gave him her sweetest smile and hurried into the kitchen, hoping to regain her composure. A few minutes later, she was back with the tray, setting it on the coffee table in front of them.

  “Here ya go!”

  They enjoyed their treat while talking about their children and Christmases past. Though Sylvia chattered on happily, panic was clutching its fingers tightly a
bout her throat, and a jagged piece of her heart was breaking off with each stroke of the second hand on the clock. There was nothing in Randy’s speech or demeanor that gave even the slightest indication he planned to stay beyond midnight. Is he wondering about Chatalaine? Where she is and what she is doing? Oh, God, please, no! Don’t let that woman break up our marriage! I love him so! I need him! My family needs him!

  Finally, Randy stood and walked to the hall closet, pulling something from his coat pocket. “I have something for you.” He lowered himself back down beside her, holding a small, beautifully wrapped package in his hand. “It’s actually my Christmas present to you, but I felt funny giving it to you Christmas Eve with everyone there. I—I decided I’d rather give it to you in private.”

  Feelings of joy and happiness flooded over Sylvia as he placed the package in her lap. Halting a compelling urge to weep, she carefully pulled off the paper, making sure not to tear it, revealing a square white box. She smiled up at Randy, both pleased and relieved he had actually bought a gift for her. It did not matter what it was. She would have been happy with the empty box, just knowing he had not forgotten her after all.

  “Open it.” He took the wrappings from her hand and placed them on the table.

  Inside, was a deep blue velvet box. Her hands shook as she lifted the lid and gasped. “Oh, Randy!”

  “It’s the diamond heart necklace I always said I’d buy you but couldn’t afford. Like the one we saw in the jewelry store window, remember? The store where I bought your gold wedding band.” He lowered his head sheepishly. “I—I should have bought it for you years ago.”

  Sylvia was so deeply touched, she could barely breathe as she stared at the spectacular necklace. They had joked about it for years, but she had never actually expected him to buy it for her. “Oh, Randy, I love it. It’s so—so beautiful! Are you sure—”

  He took the box from her hands, removed the necklace from its bed of white velvet, and opened the clasp. “Here, turn a bit and let me fasten it on you.”

  As she turned, she heard the clock on the fireplace chime a single chime. Eleven thirty!