by T. K. Chapin
She stopped and looked over at me. She was over in the kitchen, and I was in the living room.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I’m reading Redeeming Love, and—”
She interrupted before I could continue my sentence. “You’re still reading that? And what are you laughing about? If you don’t like the book, just don’t read it! You don’t have to be rude about it.”
She continued off toward the hallway that led back to the laundry room. I got up and dropped my tablet on the couch to pursue her. Catching up behind her, I said, “I was reading the barn scene with Micah and Sarah. It’s funny. As far as reading it, I’ve read it several times through since I got it. I want to read more like it, but I don’t know where to start in the book world.”
She stopped and turned to me. Her anger fell away and was replaced by a surprised look. The corner of her mouth curled up in a smile. “That is a pretty funny part.” She thought for a moment. “Miriam . . . ” She let out a laugh.
I smiled and nodded. “I truly love the book, Susan. I can see why yours is so worn out.”
She turned and continued onward to the laundry room. I followed her again.
“Hey . . . I was thinking about Thanksgiving and—” I began to say.
“I want you to be there, I just feel it’d be awkward, Rick. Could you find something else to do? I know Ron always has that turkey dinner down at Heidi’s every year . . . maybe go to that?”
Her words hurt like a serrated knife jammed into my leg and twisted. Pushing the painful comment aside, I said, “I was just going to offer you the house.”
“Oh,” she replied softly. She looked remorseful for her comment. “I’m sorry I said that. That’d be amazing if I could use the house.” She breathed a relieved sigh. “It’d help a ton, actually. I’ve been worried about how to fit all my family in the guest house.”
I nodded. “It’s yours.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “What were your plans?”
“Going to volunteer at a soup kitchen. Figured I’d make use of my time.”
“That’s generous of you.” She looked me in the eyes. It was one of the few times she had since the split. I saw a glimmer of hope in them. I saw a sparkle of that admiration she’d once held for me. She said, “You’ve changed.”
“I didn’t do anything. God did. But yes, I feel different, in a better way. I’m a different person altogether.”
She didn’t say anything, just nodded.
We parted ways. Leaving the laundry room, I went back to the living room. I sat on the couch and held the tablet in my hands to give the impression I was reading, but I wasn’t. While my eyes fixated on the words that lay before me on the tablet, I got lost in my thoughts. I had been with Susan for longer than I’d lived with my parents when I was a kid, almost twice as long. She was all I ever knew when it came to life, and I missed her. My thoughts skipped over to retirement, and then leaped over to the pastor’s question—what’s next?
I didn’t know.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I prayed for God to help me know what to do next. I put all my trust in Him in that very moment.
CHAPTER 20
Thanksgiving Day came too fast. When I woke up that morning in my bed, it reminded me of every Thanksgiving we’d ever had in the Alderman household. I could smell the sausage, onions and celery cooking downstairs in the kitchen. Getting out of bed, I made my way down to the kitchen. Susan was nice enough to even brew me a pot of coffee.
She turned to me as I walked in smiling. She grinned over at me from the stove. “Good morning.”
I went around her to the coffee pot. “Thanks for the coffee. Sure feels like old times,” I said, pulling a cup down from the cupboard.
A smile crept from one side of her mouth as she continued pushing the sausage in the skillet around in the pan. Looking over at me as she tilted her head slightly, she said, “Yeah. It really does.”
I took a seat at the kitchen table and began thumbing through the black Friday ads. Toys, clothes, waffle makers and more toys flooded the colorful, full-page ads. “Doors open at six pm Thanksgiving day?” I asked with a laugh under my breath.
She looked over at me. “Yeah . . . every year they get more ridiculous. Not sure why it’s still considered Black Friday when it’s on Thanksgiving—a Thursday!”
I continued through the ads. “It truly is ridiculous.”
We shared light conversation for thirty or so minutes. It was enjoyable. I suspected that she reciprocated the feeling, because even though she was done prepping the stuffing for the turkey, she lingered in the kitchen a bit longer than needed.
A text came through on my phone. It was the contact I had down at the Division’s soup kitchen. He needed me to come in right away since one of the volunteers called in sick.
I told Susan about it and then went and put on my favorite sweater. It was a dark gray sweatshirt, rather boring by anyone’s standards, but it was special to me. Susan had bought it for me last winter after my last one got left behind when we vacationed to the hot springs in Idaho. I didn’t even ask her for a new one. She just bought it and surprised me with it one day when I came home from work. It was these little moments that I missed the most since she had left. She had a way about her that kept everything running smoothly in life. “I’ll see you around,” I said on my way through the kitchen to leave.
“Okay.” She turned back to what she was doing before whipping around again to face me. “I’ll put some leftovers for you in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. I left out the front door and headed to the soup kitchen.
Walking into the soup kitchen, I immediately saw the speaker from the men’s breakfast that I had spoken harshly with. I felt an overwhelming need to make amends with the man. I strolled across the smooth cement floor and over to him just as he was leaving a table he had been talking with.
“Hi,” I said as he turned around and saw me.
He smiled.
“I wanted to apologize to you,” I said. Shaking my head as I looked down, I continued. “You were right about blind faith. Man . . .” I let out a laugh. “Our lives are so driven by trusting God fully and being blind to the future. I’ve learned that so much lately, and I’m sorry for what I said.”
He nodded and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you came around, and thank you for the apology.”
“No problem. I’d better get going. I’m helping out here. Gotta find this guy that I’m supposed to meet here.”
“Named Jake?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I tilted my head slightly. “How’d you know?”
“That’s me, Rick!” He laughed.
A smile broke out across my face. “Wow . . . I didn’t even remember your name.” I went flush.
“Don’t be embarrassed, it happens to us all sometimes.”
“Okay,” I replied. He showed me over to the serving stations and helped me get set up. As I began to serve, my eyes scanned across all the tables and the people that were at them. Some of the people looked normal—I’d never guess they were needy if I saw them on the street. Others looked needy. It broke my heart to see so many people there on Thanksgiving Day getting food, but I also felt extremely blessed to be part of their lives, if only for a meal.
It was tragic, yet at the same time, beautiful. So many people were in need, and a dozen or so people were there to help fill that need.
I met and served a multitude of people for the next few hours until the second shift came to help. After saying my goodbyes, I left to go check on Ron at the diner. On my way over to the diner, I reflected on my time at the soup kitchen. The people I met had real problems. Instead of worrying over a pension, they worried over where their next meal was coming from. Instead of being concerned about how much they had in their savings account, they worried where they were going to pillow their head every night in winter in order to live another day. It helped to shape my perspective and give m
e a deeper understanding of how really petty and small my problems were in light of others.
When I arrived at the diner, I wasn’t surprised to see it busy. Ron’s deep fried turkey was one of the best meals I have eaten in my life, second only to my wife’s turkey. Everything she did, made, or had a part in was just a little bit better than anything else in life.
Penny wasn’t there. It was one of the other ladies that worked there, Ally. She greeted me when I walked in the door. I took a seat up at the bar top and declined the menu she offered me.
“You going to have the Thanksgiving meal?” she asked.
I nodded and looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen’s serve window. “Ron back there?” I asked, glancing at her.
“He is. But he’s a bit busy. Bet you could slip back there and say ‘hi,’ since it’s Thanksgiving and all.”
“I’ll do that,” I replied, getting up from the barstool I sat on. Coming around the bar, I went through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
There he was. His hands moved like a blur as he ran three different burners and worked on slicing turkey all the same time. He didn’t even notice me standing there for a few moments. Looking up at me, he grinned, but the smile fell away. He looked disappointed and asked, “Why aren’t you home with Susan?”
I leaned against the pillar that sat in the middle of the kitchen and let out a long sigh. “Things aren’t so hot with her. I’ve been trying.”
“Try a little harder.” He laughed. “You’ll get there.”
“I don’t know, man. She’s pretty cold about the idea. I’ve been doing counseling with the pastor and she’s still not coming around.”
“You made her pretty mad with all this, eh?” he asked, looking up for a second as he paused for only a moment from cutting slices of turkey.
“Guess so,” I replied, letting out a breath of air from my lips that revealed the defeat I felt inside. Adjusting my feet, I said, “I gave her the house for Thanksgiving . . . let her host all the family she wanted to have over.”
“Isn’t it your family too?” he asked, continuing to fill plates of food and toss them up into the serve window.
“Nah. All my family is back in Arkansas. The ones I have left, anyway.”
He nodded. “What you been up to?”
“I was at the soup kitchen helping out today.”
Ron stopped what he was doing entirely and stared blankly at me. “You served at a soup kitchen, Rick?”
“You’re making me nervous, Ron. Go about what you were doing, it’s not that profound.”
He continued his work as he spoke. “No, Rick. That is quite profound for you.” He looked at me and shrugged to his side. “No offense.”
“None taken.” I knew I’d been rather selfish for most of my life, and it wasn’t until I really started getting close to God again and relying on Him that I saw that light.
“So what are you going to do? Aren’t you retiring soon?”
“Yeah, my last day is here in a couple of days. I don’t know my plans yet.” Thinking about Jake and the basis of the message on blind faith, I said, “I’m just going to trust God fully and have faith that He will lead me.”
“You’re sounding like a real Christ-doer, Rick.”
“What’s that?”
“Doing what Christ would do. Remember when He was sweating blood in that garden? He struggled, but He poured his faith into God and trusted.”
I nodded.
Ally popped her head through the double swinging doors and said, “Rick. You got someone here for you.”
“Weird. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here,” I said.
Going out through the double-swinging doors, I froze when I saw Susan standing near the door of the diner. She looked like an angel. She had on her black and white pea coat and a pair of red gloves. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, holding her white purse. She was wearing the red Cloche hat that I had bought her a few winters ago for a fireman’s ball we had attended. She was absolutely breathtaking.
Slowly, I made my way over to her, coming close so I could hear her over the noise of the diner.
She cleared her throat, looking nervous as she said in a soft and delicate tone, “Rick.”
“Susan.”
“I’ve spent quite some time trying to locate you. Is your phone off?”
I reached for my pants pocket and it wasn’t there. “Must be in the car.”
She looked nervous as her eyes bounced around behind me. She was looking all over the diner. Using the brim of my index finger, I pulled her chin delicately to look at me. “What is it, dear?” I asked.
She looked into my eyes so deeply that I could feel our souls touch.
“You don’t know this . . . but I’ve been meeting with the pastor too.” She touched my arm. “Don’t be mad at him. I told him to keep it from you. I didn’t know if this was really what I wanted. I needed to work on me first.”
Even the chilliest November on record in forty years outside couldn’t keep my heart from melting at my wife’s words.
She smiled for a moment and then said, “I want you to come home.” The six sweetest words I had heard all day. Heck, in months, even years, maybe.
“Okay,” I replied, nodding without hesitation.
“I want to make this work, Rick. Please take a minute and think about it,” she insisted. Disbelief at my answer was clear on her face.
Looking into her frightened eyes, I softly grabbed her cheeks, pulled her in close to me, and kissed her.
My heart swelled with so much love, emotion and happiness that I could barely stand it. It was ecstasy to taste those lips again.
“I love you,” I said, rubbing her shoulders as we released from our kiss. “Of course I want to go home with you.”
She smiled, but I could still sense the worry behind those beautiful eyes of hers. But it didn’t matter, we were going home together.
CHAPTER 21
Snow began falling as we pulled onto our street. Leaning up to look out the windshield, I said, “It’s the first snowfall.” I glanced over at Susan as she held my hand that sat on the console between us. She beamed. She loved the snow. Winter was her favorite season. The quietness that the blankets of white laid across the greater Spokane area was her favorite part of the holiday. It was quiet and beautiful.
“It never gets old, no matter how many times I see it,” she said, grinning as she kept her eyes on the flakes coming down in front of our headlights.
“It is beautiful,” I replied.
Pulling into the driveway, I saw cars parked all along the side of the curb. I noticed Cole’s car was among them. “You invited Cole over for Thanksgiving?”
She leaned to see where I was looking and her eyebrows furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He was supposed to park a block down,” she replied with a heavy sigh.
“What?” I asked.
Her eyes fixated on the garage door in front of us that the headlights were beaming on. Watching as the snowflakes fell between the headlights and the garage, I waited for her to say something.
She sighed and said, “It’s your retirement party-slash-Thanksgiving.”
Looking over at Susan, I said, “I’ll pretend to be surprised. It’ll just be our little secret.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling. I could tell she was happy.
We got out of the car and headed up to the house. She kept her arm intertwined with mine all the way up to the door. It felt so good to have her back in my arms. Her warmth and her love were coming back to me.
Walking into the dark house, I flipped on a light and everyone jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!”
A few of the kids had streamer poppers and yanked the cord on them, shooting streamers up into the air. I jumped a little from the noise. Cole, Kane, Ted and Micah all had fistfuls of confetti that they tossed up in the air over my head. A rainfall of colors fell across my vision as I looked across at all th
e people who had come. Even Brian came, though he had finished at the station a while ago. Beth came up to me and hugged me.
“Happy Retirement, Dad,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I saw Jonathan standing a few paces back. I smiled at him and motioned him over. He joined the hug.
While the snow might have begun to fall outside for the first time this winter, and the temperature was chilly, my heart was eternally warmed by all the people that had come. Jensen shook my hand after my hug with Beth.
“You’ve served the city well, and you will forever be known as one of the brotherhood,” he said confidently. His eyes glistened for a moment before he patted my shoulder and walked past me.
Laughter, turkey and a heaping serving of good times took us late into the evening as the snow piled outside in the yard and atop the cars. At one point, when everyone went outside to let the kids run around in the snow, Susan pulled me aside into my study upstairs. Sliding the door shut behind her, she looked at me. Those pretty eyes still seemed to be hiding some amount of fear behind them.
“I started that counseling with the pastor once a week last month. I’m trying to trust you. I want to trust you, but you hurt me so badly that it’s going to take time. I don’t want you to ever hurt me again, Rick. Can you promise me that?” she asked, coming closer to me. “Tell me everything is going to work out.”
I put a hand on each side of Susan and looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m never going to hide anything from you again. I promise.”
“Why do I still feel like you could be lying?” Her eyes began to water. “I thought you saying something like that would make me feel better, and I don’t. I’m scared, Rick.” She dipped her eyes into her hands, and I wrapped my arms around her.
Kissing her forehead, I said, “Stop your solo sessions, or keep them, but make a group session with me, too. We’ll fix this, dear, and we’ll be able to, regardless of our age, because we’ll have God’s help. It’s going to take time. You have to have faith that it’ll work out.” I wrapped my arms tighter around her and held her a little bit longer. “We’ll have our faith in each other and our trust in God, that he’ll bring us through this.”