A Promise Kept

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  I am sick at heart. Sometimes I think I cannot draw another breath for the pain of it. I’ve known he cared more for Liza than for me. But since she would never betray me or John, I wasn’t afraid Alexander would do anything more than long for her from afar. I still had hope he could learn to love me. But now?

  I have tried to be a good wife. I have tried to obey him as I promised in my wedding vows. I have tried not to nag, like the steady drip of water Proverbs talks about. But I am failing. I have already failed.

  I know my parents are worried, but they say nothing to me about Alexander. They never utter a negative word to my face. In our family such things are not talked about. Married couples are expected to work things through on their own without airing their dirty laundry. But I see the worry in their eyes. I hear it in their voices when they talk of benign things.

  I pray and I pray for Alexander to know God and heed Him. We are unequally yoked, to be sure. I knew we were when I married him. I knew he had no room for God in his life, but I didn’t care. I ignored the warning voice in my heart. I wanted to marry Alexander more than I wanted to obey God. Alexander attended church for a time before we married, and I told myself that was enough. But his going to church had nothing to do with faith or worship or even me. Whatever his reasons for going—to impress Liza, perhaps?—he never let God come near.

  Am I much different? I have sought my own way again and again.

  Mark Thomas turned two yesterday. I was with Liza and John to help celebrate with cake and homemade ice cream. Liza has stopped telling me that someday I will have a child of my own. She must not want to give me false hope any longer. Or perhaps she’s guessed how seldom my husband reaches for me in the night.

  How much faith do I have? Or what kind of faith? Am I willing to believe God for my future? Am I willing to give Alexander and our marriage over to Him and trust Him to do with it as He wills?

  Last year I decided I needed to discover who I am. Who I really and truly am as a person, as a woman, as a Christian. The real me—body, soul, and spirit. Sometimes I think I know. Sometimes I think I may never know. I am twenty-three. I’ve been a wife for over three years. I’ve been pregnant and miscarried. I was with my sister when her first child passed away, and I was nearby when she delivered her second child. I can be decisive and brave, but I can also be indecisive and cowardly. I swing from one to the other, as if riding a pendulum.

  Should I ask Alexander if he has a mistress? Should I force the issue into the light of day? Or would I rather not have my suspicions confirmed? If I get an answer, I can no longer pretend not to know.

  The pendulum swings.

  Allison

  The nine days her parents stayed with Allison went by in a flash. At the end of their visit, she delivered Gizmo to Susan and then piled into her parents’ car and went with them to Seattle to visit her brother and his family and to attend her niece’s high school graduation.

  As the automobile sped along I-84, Allison couldn’t help thinking what a difference a year had made in her life. Last May she’d still been given to fits of tears and periods of feeling blue. Last May her faith had grown cold. Last May she’d felt alone and lonely. Last May she’d felt like a failure—as a woman and as a wife.

  “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the Lord.”

  As the verses from the Twenty-Seventh Psalm ran through her mind, Allison smiled. She had despaired a year ago, but she was learning to be better at waiting on the Lord, at believing she would see His goodness here on earth, at knowing she had already seen it and at counting her blessings. Charles Spurgeon had said a believer must watch for God in the events of life, that one must wait on God with an expectation of His answers. One could not collect the water if no jars were put outside when it rained.

  She closed her eyes. Here are my water jars, Lord. I’m ready for Your rain.

  With a predawn departure and all three of them taking a turn at the wheel, they arrived at Chuck’s home in time for supper.

  “Allison, you look terrific,” her brother said before wrapping her in a bear hug.

  When he released her, she replied, “You look pretty good yourself.”

  Allison and Chuck didn’t talk on the phone often or even e-mail with any regularity, but their love for each other wasn’t any less real or true. She’d always adored her big brother, and he’d always looked out for her when they were kids. Allison knew she could turn to him anytime for advice or support.

  After giving the travelers time to bring in their luggage and wash up, the family sat down to eat. Chuck said a blessing, and then his wife, Joan, began passing around the food.

  It was over dessert when Allison said to her niece, “Karen, I can’t get over how much you look like your great-grandmother Elizabeth when she was your age. The resemblance is amazing. Have you seen photographs from her wedding? She was eighteen at the time, same as you are now.”

  “I don’t remember seeing any pictures from her wedding.” She glanced at her parents. “Have I?”

  Chuck shrugged while Joan shook her head.

  Allison continued, “I brought a couple of albums along with me, and there’s some photos from her wedding. Aunt Emma left a ton of old photos in the attic. I’ve spent the last year getting them organized into scrapbooks. And if I wasn’t flying home, I would have tried to bring all the photos for you to see.”

  “Allison has done an amazing job,” her mother said. “Those photo albums are works of art.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Pleasure warmed her insides.

  Maggie shook a finger at Karen. “And don’t you even think about getting married at your age. You go to college and get your degree first.”

  “Don’t worry, Grandma. I don’t even have a boyfriend. I won’t be getting married for a long, long time.”

  “Well, not too long, I hope. I may not want you to rush into marriage, but I would like to attend the weddings of both of my granddaughters.” Maggie looked at Allison. “And you can tell Meredith I said so.”

  When the meal was finished, Joan shooed everyone off to the family room to continue visiting. Everyone but Allison obeyed. She insisted on helping with the cleanup. Besides, it gave the sisters-in-law a chance to talk privately. If Allison had been given a birth sister, she would have wanted her to be like Joan. Chuck’s wife had a wicked sense of humor. When in her presence, one needed to be constantly on one’s toes. No telling when the next zinger of wit might happen or who would be the recipient.

  But tonight Joan didn’t seem to be in a joking mood. She sent a serious look in Allison’s direction. “Chuck’s right.” She rinsed dishes and Allison placed them in the dishwasher. “You look good. Straighter. Lighter. Hard to put my finger on it.”

  “I’ve lost a few pounds.”

  “I didn’t mean weight, silly.”

  Allison grinned. “I know you didn’t.”

  “Is it okay to ask . . .” Joan let the words die away.

  “About Tony?” Allison finished for her.

  Joan nodded.

  Allison turned her gaze out the window. “I thought he might die. I really did. More than once. But the last couple of times I’ve seen him, he looked healthy. He’s in a recovery program.”

  “Do you ever think you two might—”

  “Never!”

  Joan raised her eyebrows.

  “I wouldn’t knowingly walk back into that situation.”

  “But if he stays sober?”

  “No.” Allison shook her head emphatically. “Not even then. God told me to let go of him and I did.” She felt a sting of tears but blinked them back. “Sometimes I think I was the reason he couldn’t stay sober.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was a soft place to fall.”

  It was Joan’s turn to shake her head.

  Allison released a sigh. It was hard to put
what she believed into words. “When I finally understood what it meant to be codependent, to be an enabler and a rescuer, I learned to be pretty good about not doing the obvious things. I didn’t clean up after him or put him to bed when he couldn’t do it himself. I didn’t make excuses to others or cover up with his boss. But even with all of that, if he lost a job, he still had a home. I was still able to pay the bills because of my work. He didn’t go homeless or hungry. And I was still trying to be supportive as a wife and not question everything he did. Trying being the operative word there. But the truth is, no matter what he did, he didn’t truly have to face the consequences of his actions.”

  “Wow,” Joan said softly.

  “Yeah. Wow.”

  “I don’t know how you put up with it for so long.”

  Allison offered a shaky smile. “To tell you the truth, neither do I. I loved Tony. I loved him with all my heart. I wanted our marriage to work. I meant my vows when I said them on our wedding day. For better or worse. I thought tough love would be the answer. I thought God was going to save us.” She sighed. “But He didn’t.”

  Allison

  Allison’s laptop saw little use during her much-too-short visit to Washington. She’d had good intentions when she packed her rolling briefcase, but most of the time she was having far too much fun playing to think about work. Thankfully, she had some leeway with the due dates of her current projects.

  Joan, Karen, Maggie, and Allison went into the city on the weekends. They shopped. They saw a touring Broadway show. They shopped some more. They dined in lovely restaurants. They shopped some more and some more after that. And they laughed. A lot. Sometimes Allison’s face and sides hurt from all the laughter. She hadn’t known she’d needed this mini-vacation until she was in the midst of it.

  Attending Karen’s high school graduation on the last Thursday in May made the memories whirl inside Allison’s head. She thought of her own high school graduation and of Meredith’s too. She even recalled the entry Aunt Emma had written after her graduation in May of 1925.

  Amazing, how much expectations had changed from then to the present. Especially for girls. Girls in Emma Carter’s day rarely considered college as their next step. Most had been more interested in finding the men they would marry or marrying the ones they’d already found. They’d spent more time imagining the homes they would make for their husbands and children than imagining themselves out in the greater world. It hadn’t taken Aunt Emma long after she married Alexander Monroe to begin writing in her diary about her desire to become pregnant. Society had thought that was the obvious next step for every young wife. No one thought she should want anything different.

  Karen, on the other hand, was both expected and encouraged to continue her education for at least another four years. At eighteen, she was in no rush to marry, settle down, and have a family.

  What a cultural shift in less than a hundred years.

  It made her wonder what America would be like when her own great-granddaughters and great nieces—should she be blessed with them—came of age. How changed would their world be? How quaint would Allison’s life appear to them?

  When the two weeks of fun were over—seemingly in a flash—her brother drove her to Sea-Tac for the one-hour flight home to Idaho. She was glad everyone hadn’t joined them. She didn’t want to blubber curbside as she said more good-byes.

  Even with only Chuck to hug before heading into the terminal, she came close to losing control. She blinked back unwelcome tears and said, “You, Joan, and Karen come visit me sometime. Come in the summer and we’ll go whitewater rafting. Or horseback riding up in the wilderness area.”

  “Sounds fun. We’ll do it.”

  “This summer?”

  “Don’t know that we could do it this year. We’re pretty booked for the summer months, and we’ll be taking Karen to college in August. Maybe next summer.”

  Allison kissed his cheek. “Okay then. Whenever you can.” She stepped back, grabbed hold of her bags, and smiled. “Keep in touch.”

  He nodded. “Will do.”

  She turned and entered the busy interior of the Seattle airport. It didn’t take long to check her large bag and get her boarding pass. Then she headed for the assigned gate, thankful her flight to Boise was less than an hour and a half, gate to gate. She would be back in Kings Meadow and loving on Gizmo well before dark.

  Emma

  1931

  Emma pulled her coat tight and leaned into the bitter February wind. If she didn’t hurry, she would be late to work. She’d been employed as a clerk at the small grocery store—ten blocks from her parents’ home—since mid-December. The pay wasn’t great and sometimes the hours were too long. But with so many people out of work, like Alexander, she was fortunate to have any employment at all.

  Most everything she made went to her parents to pay for their board. Her husband didn’t like it. He thought the money should go into his pocket, not theirs. Why? So he could spend it on liquor and other women in some speakeasy?

  For once Emma had stood her ground. Her wages went to her parents, with a tiny stipend for herself and Alexander. He continued to rail at her whenever her parents were out of hearing, but he hadn’t been able to budge her on this. Not on this.

  And he hates me for it.

  The thought caused her chest to tighten. It was one thing to believe her husband didn’t love her, had never loved her. It was another entirely to think he might hate her. Sometimes she wished he would simply take his anger and go away. Leave her. Disappear. Just get in his truck and drive out of sight and never come back. No. No, she didn’t wish that. Not really. She’d promised to love, cherish, and obey him until death. She would do exactly that. Divorce had never stained her family. She would not be the first.

  But Alexander had made promises too. He’d said he would love and cherish Emma as long as they lived. He’d promised . . . but never meant to keep the promise. He’d never loved or cherished her. Not even briefly. If he’d broken his vows, then couldn’t she—

  Emma stopped the direction of her thoughts with determination, at the same time quickening her steps. Five minutes later the wind propelled her through the front doorway of the store.

  “Merciful heavens!” Mrs. Conners, the proprietress, exclaimed, hurrying over to close the door before it blew nearby items off the shelves. “Have you ever seen such weather?”

  “I think it might snow again,” Emma answered.

  “Indeed.”

  Emma hung her coat on a hook in the stockroom and slipped a dark apron over her dress. “What would you like me to do today, Mrs. Conners?”

  “The shelves could use a good dusting.”

  “All right.”

  The gray-haired woman chuckled. “If we left the front door open, it might blow the dust away.”

  “But what would it blow in?”

  “Right you are.”

  Emma retrieved the feather duster and a cleaning rag and got to work.

  Mrs. Conners told her she was going upstairs to check on Mr. Conners who was ailing and would be back shortly. “See to the customers, please. Doubt there’ll be any in weather like this, but you never know.”

  The woman hadn’t been gone more than a minute when the front door opened. Emma turned from her tidying and was surprised to see her sister enter the store, Mark Thomas in her arms.

  “Liza?”

  “I went by the house but you’d already left for work and Mother said Alexander left five minutes after you did. So I came straight here.”

  Emma felt a flutter of alarm. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. On the contrary. John has found a position for Alexander. At a dairy in Meridian.”

  “A dairy? He’s never done that sort of work.”

  Liza shook her head. “The farmer knows that, but he wants to do John a favor for helping him with some business matter. He’s willing to train Alexander.”

  Emma tried to picture her husband milking cows but couldn’t seem t
o pull up the image.

  Shifting her son so he rested on her hip, Liza pulled a folded sheet of paper from her coat pocket and offered it to Emma. “Alexander needs to go see the man today or tomorrow. He mustn’t delay or he’ll lose the chance.”

  “I’ll tell him as soon as I get home.”

  “Good. John really wants to help.”

  “I know.”

  “He says it’s hard on a man to be out of work and unable to provide for his family. It wounds his pride.”

  Emma wondered if that was true of Alexander. She’d started to think him lazy, without a shred of ambition. But perhaps she’d judged him too harshly. Perhaps—

  “Emma?”

  “Hmm?”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help you . . .”

  Emma saw the pity in her sister’s eyes. But she had pride too. She didn’t want Liza feeling sorry for her. “This is help enough, Liza. Really.”

  She’d become almost as good a liar as Alexander.

  Allison

  June arrived in southwestern Idaho with mild days full of sunshine. Wildflowers splashed an array of colors across hillsides and valleys—white, pink, purple, yellow, blue, red, orange. It made Allison think of an artist’s palette, blotches of paint dotting the surface.

  With the winter’s snowpack long since melted and the ground firm and dry, Allison and Gizmo resumed their afternoon walks along the river. It felt good to stretch her legs after hours at the computer, and the fresh air always managed to clear the to-do list from her congested mind.

  Today she found herself wondering how many times in her life Aunt Emma had walked this same path. Had Emma stopped at this particular bend in the river and watched the water tumble, foam, and churn over and around boulders, the way Allison liked to do? How old had Emma been when she came here to live? And what about her husband? What had happened to Alexander Monroe?