by Jenn Faulk
Hannah had this thought after Lucy delivered her shocking news about moving to Namibia, just as Tate walked out of the house and Edie shot her a helpless look, that baby blanket still in her lap.
For a long moment, there was just silence as they each grappled with what had just happened and at the turn this Christmas had unexpectedly taken.
“I’m sorry,” Edie finally said, directing her words to Lucy, long before Hannah could say anything either way about any of it. “I’m so sorry that he said what he did.”
“That he said the truth?” Lucy sniffled, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. “That he said just exactly what I’ve been thinking this whole time?”
“No, that he spoke in frustration like that,” Edie said, sighing, gesturing to the door helplessly. “That’s not what he really thinks, Lucy. He doesn’t want you to put your life on hold for him or to stay here if you’re clearly being led to go.” She paused for a moment and shook her head. “Or maybe that is what he really thinks. I don’t know what he’s thinking most of the time these days…”
This only made Lucy cry harder.
“Look,” Edie said. “Even if it’s what he really thinks, I know he would think differently if he had time to process it. And that? Him blowing up? Wasn’t about you. Not really. It was about everything else. He’s dealing with… a lot. Which goes without saying.”
Hadn’t they all seen the truth of it, with Tate always on the phone, with Edie stressed out, and with the church just down the street calling so many of the shots in the Anderson home? It was clear that they were living in a fishbowl in the worst way possible, all on their own here.
They needed help.
“Edie, what can I do to help?” Hannah asked, pushing aside all of her own holiday drama. This was why she was here, after all.
Before Edie could get a response out, Hannah’s phone rang.
Hannah looked down at it helplessly, all of her irritable feelings about Owen and the enigmatic gift he’d given her coming to mind as she saw his name and his picture on the screen.
She looked back up at Edie.
“That better not be another call from the church people,” Edie said, pointing at the phone. “I am not giving up my inflatable Elvis!”
“Why would… inflatable Elvis?” Jude asked, even as he was pulling Lucy into his lap, comforting her as she continued to cry.
“I’ve given up trying to figure out the church people,” Edie said, rolling her eyes. “And it’s highly unlikely that they’ve managed to track down Hannah’s number anyway, since she’s not even from around here. But if they have and that’s them on the line, Hannah, and they have a problem with the King singing some gospel hymns on my front yard while he swivels his hips, you let them know that I said that they could kiss my huge, pregnant b –”
“I’ll take this in the next room,” Hannah said, already feeling guilty about being so consumed with her own issues that she was absolutely no help to her sister. “I’m sorry again, Edie.”
She didn’t even hear Edie’s response as she made her way down the hall then closed the door to Tate’s office behind her.
“Hey,” she said, breathless, answering Owen’s call, still eager to hear his voice even as her mind went back to that gift. Still eager to talk with him because she loved him even if she was irritated and –
Irritated? Really, Hannah? She should be more thankful. Thankful that she had Owen in her life, that she knew his heart, that he hadn’t meant to hurt her with that gift. Surely. She shouldn’t be like this, feeling this way –
“Hannah!” he exclaimed at the sound of her voice. “I didn’t catch you in the middle of your family Christmas, did I? I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“No, you didn’t interrupt the family Christmas – just family drama,” she said, unable to keep from smiling. There was nothing to smile over in all of that, but Owen had been thinking of her. And surely the drama going on outside this room would be dealt with and smooth out in time.
Just like these feelings she’d been having, about how she wanted more from Owen than he could give right now, how it hurt her heart to have him not beside her right now, and how confusing all of her thoughts were about weddings and babies and happily ever afters.
Oh, for the days when she lived for nothing but the glory of God. She needed to get back to that. Surely there was a way to live the life God had blessed her with and remain focused on His purpose for her, not allowing the blessing in her life to become the entrapments that distracted her from Him –
She heard a loud round of laughter on the other end of the phone.
But it wasn’t from Owen. No, it sounded like a handful of other people, all of them talking and laughing.
What in the world?
“What’s going on there?” she asked, all of her godly thoughts pushed aside by the annoyance prompted by what sounded like a… was he having a party without her? He was supposed to be having a quiet Christmas with his mother and his sister – this was the whole reason they were separated this Christmas, that he was stuck there – but it sounded like Owen had gotten together with a group of friends.
She should want him to enjoy his life. She should be fine with him enjoying a night out. She should be better than this. She should be more eternally minded at Christmas.
Pleased, as man, with men to dwell. Born that man no more may die. Spiritually minded, not stuck on being irritated and jealous and hurt and feeling like she was missing out on the next great thing in her life because Owen still hadn’t proposed and had bought her a ridiculous gift instead of –
She should be better than this.
Should be. But she found herself upset that he was out, that he was enjoying life without her, and that he wasn’t really missing her at all.
“Hold up, Hannah,” he said.
She could hear him covering up the phone, then hissing, “Keep it down, y’all!” to the crowd of people that were so obviously hanging out with him on Christmas.
“Hey,” he said, coming back on the line, a laugh in his voice, followed by even greater laughter in the background. “You still there?”
And they were laughing. Everyone was laughing.
That was it for Hannah.
“That doesn’t sound like your family Christmas, Owen,” she said, hearing the biting tone in her voice and not caring a bit that she might be just a little more caustic than normal, than what the situation logically called for.
“It what?” Owen asked.
“That doesn’t sound like your mom and your sister,” she said, feeling all of her crazy come out now, in a way that it never had before with Owen there to witness it. “I mean, we’ve both made sacrifices this year for Christmas. I get that. My sister needed me here.”
Though… did she? Maybe what Edie needed most in this crazy season of her life with a difficult church was to not have even more people and mayhem to deal with in the off time. (As if Tate ever had off time.) If the past hour was any indication, this Christmas was turning out to be even more stressful than Edie’s normal, everyday life.
But whatever.
“Or at least I thought she did,” Hannah kept on. “Which is why I gave up having Christmas with you. And I get that you couldn’t come with me. That you were stuck there. Because your mom and your sister…”
They need you. They need you so much, in fact, that it feels like we’re stuck – you and me – and that you can’t move forward with us, with becoming a family with me, because you have so many responsibilities to them.
It was horrible, feeling this way and thinking like this, but there it was.
“Anyway,” she said, swearing off the wrong thoughts even as she had them, “I get it. I totally get it, Owen. But what I don’t get is why you’re off at some party now! If you had all that time to yourself, why didn’t you come and spend Christmas with me?!”
She took a breath.
“And why did you buy me this Chexa? Or whatever it’s called?! All I want
ed was a ring, Owen!!!”
Well, no. That wasn’t it.
Here’s what the heart of it was, what she hadn’t said when he’d told her he needed to be with his family for Christmas, when she’d told him the same about her family, when they’d given up on what was good and right – being together – for everyone else’s sake.
Forget that. Just forget it.
Tell him what you want, Hannah.
“All I want for Christmas is you, Owen,” she said. “Not a gift. Not even a ring. Just you. You. For today, tomorrow, and every day after that.”
There. She’d gone and said it all now. Would this make Owen run away screaming?
She sat there for a long moment, waiting for him to answer her, for him to speak to all that she’d just poured out from the depths of her heart.
And then, she waited a little longer.
“Owen?” she finally asked, thinking that she must have really freaked him out good, and –
“I’m sorry, what did you just say, Hannah? I lost you.”
Oh, good grief.
“What didn’t you hear?” she asked, not sure if she was glad that he’d missed it or if she should start all over again, saying it louder this time, letting him really feel the depth of her words, raising her voice, and –
“Hannah?” he said, his voice cutting out now. “Hello? Are you there?”
And then, there it was. The phone, beginning to cut out on her as well.
Well, praise God. Or not.
Where in the world was he?! His phone never cut out in Houston, where you couldn’t go two feet without excellent cell coverage.
“Where are you?” she asked. “What are you doing?”
But her words were lost. She could only hear every other word now.
“Can’t… coverage… but… love… Hannah. You. Soon!”
And with that, Owen hung up on her.
Unbelievable.
~Edie~
Edie knew where he’d be.
After an apologetic few minutes spent with his family, assuring his crying sister that he’d be okay and gesturing to her own sister, a silent plea to tell her to get to praying for this whole mess, Edie made it her mission to find Tate. She slipped her coat on, praying all the while as she did so, and stepped outside, seeing Tate’s car still sitting in the driveway right beside hers.
She knew where he was.
There was only one place he could go on foot in cold weather like this. Some place close, some place where he could easily get in, some place that was almost always empty…
Church.
The only place in Edie’s life that was poisonous was Tate’s enigmatic refuge at this moment.
“Typical,” Edie said, beginning to walk that way, her heart hurting for her husband and the loss of even more of his family, even as she felt so immensely frustrated with him for being calm about literally everything horrible going on in their own lives and choosing this moment – this moment, on Christmas nonetheless – to finally admit that things were bad and totally freak out about it.
She’d known before getting married that frustration might be a part of otherwise wedded bliss. Her parents had been frustrated with one another plenty over the years, and it was no mystery why as her father’s loud, sometimes obnoxious personality could be grating. Her mother loved him, though, even when he was particularly annoying.
It took one in every marriage, she even said sometimes. One who was a little “off” in some ways, and then one who pulled them back lovingly.
And here Edie was, pulling Tate back.
Except… Edie frowned at this.
Except Tate wasn’t annoying. Not at all. Frustrating, sure, but only because he’d kept everything bottled up for so long only to just explode and verbally vomit on them all. This – this episode from their lives – was an exception, an out of character moment for him. The majority of the time Tate wasn’t frustrating or annoying at all.
He wasn’t the annoying one in their marriage, in their relationship.
And Edie stopped right in the middle of the street as she considered this, really thought through what she’d always believed about marriage, what she’d expected in her own, and what was suddenly glaringly obvious.
On those few occasions that she’d seen her mother lose it, it had always been in reaction to days, weeks, and months of her father being her father. Not that Scott was a bad guy – he was just him, always ready with a quippy response about everything, maybe a little negative from time to time, and always loud, loud, loud –
Edie gasped a little as she thought about this.
She wasn’t like her mother. Tate wasn’t like her father.
She was like her father.
Great, just great.
“Oh, well, merry Christmas, Edie,” she muttered as she started walking again. “You haven’t turned into your mother in your old age. You’ve turned into your idiot father. Who knows a fool like a fool?”
She thought about the last few weeks and months, a good portion of the duration of this pastorate, all of the negativity that seemed to bounce right off of Tate. When it did, she was always good to point it out to him, to try and get him worked up, too.
Maybe that wasn’t so good after all.
Could she have gotten Tate to this position? Had she contributed to this stress?
“Good grief,” she muttered to herself, now at the steps of the church, her heart feeling very convicted, not only for what she’d done to Tate but for the way even now, she felt such negativity for this place.
It wasn’t right what the people did to Tate. It wasn’t right that they complained and manipulated and hurt their family.
But it wasn’t right for her to be bitter about it, so much so that she was hurting Tate worse than anyone else.
Tate, who was in need, clearly, given how distraught he’d been by his sister’s news.
Edie took a breath and opened the church door, stepping in and gasping out loud.
It was like a sauna in there.
“Ugh,” she muttered, even as she closed the door behind her and really felt the heat, glancing around and finding Tate sitting on the front pew, his head in his hands.
Oh, Tate.
Well, she’d start this like she normally started things these days.
“When that guy came over to fix the heater,” she said, shrugging out of her coat as she made her way over to her husband, “he really fixed it. I may have to strip down to my underwear for tomorrow’s service, Tate. Think the church would appreciate a half-naked pregnant woman sitting on the front pew, fanning herself off with a church bulletin?”
A joke. Because sometimes you couldn’t do anything but laugh.
Tate didn’t look like he felt like laughing.
“I got rid of the church bulletins a month ago,” he said softly, his eyes on his hands. “Tried to move the church to a digital bulletin on the app. Save some money. Had weeks of complaints about it. Remember?”
How could she have forgotten that? Truth was, she hadn’t. It had just gotten filed away under the hundreds of other things that people had complained about in their tenure here, and it had slipped Edie’s mind.
But she remembered now.
She remembered. And laughed a little at it.
“What a dumb thing to be upset about,” she said, sitting down next to him in the pew. “Isn’t that dumb, Tate? People getting upset about church bulletins?”
He nodded.
“And it may be just as dumb that we actually cared that people were upset about that,” she mused. “That we took each and every one of those complaints and felt them at some personal level. Complaints about things that don’t matter, given by people who didn’t have the things of God in mind when they berated their pastor and his wife – we let those things hurt us and make us bitter.”
Well, listen to her. She sounded… wise.
Was this faith? Still being hurt and angry and even a little bitter, but bringing it back to Christ, to the tru
th, to trusting and saying these truths, again and again, until she believed them?
Maybe.
But that wasn’t the greatest concern now. The greatest concern now was Tate and his heart and that moment back at the house that had finally broken the dam that had been holding back all that he was hurting over.
“Talk to me,” she said softly, putting a hand to his knee. “Talk to me about Lucy, about that explosion at the parsonage.”
Tate took a deep breath and shook his head.
“Hey, we have nowhere else to go right now, nowhere else to be,” Edie said. “And someone should be enjoying this heat. Especially with what it’s going to cost the church with that electric bill next month –”
“Ugh,” Tate groaned.
“That’s a problem for another day,” she said. “Come on now. Talk. Tell me what you were thinking with Lucy, with her news.”
“I had this stupid plan in the back of my mind,” he said softly. “That with Lucy and Jude here tomorrow… well, he’s going to do the music for us.”
“Yeah, I know,” Edie said, nodding.
“And I thought maybe that he’d have a good experience, that this Christmas would be so great, that the church would be so welcoming…”
This church wasn’t welcoming. That was one of the biggest problems.
Well, no, the biggest problem was that the people in this church weren’t godly in the slightest. That was the problem.
But, no. She needed to be encouraging. To see these people like Jesus did. To love Tate and not be critical right now, to help him see the good, to envision a better future alongside him, here in this place serving, all by themselves –
Oh. And like that Edie could tell now where Tate was going with this.
“Tate,” she breathed.
“I know,” he said. “Stupid idea, hope, dream, whatever. But I had hoped that maybe Jude and Lucy would move out here, and we’d have someone…”
Completely crazy thought. What was here for Lucy and Jude? Nothing except Tate and Edie, and now that they’d heard what the Bothas’ plans had been all along –
“I’m sorry,” Edie said, mourning herself what couldn’t be.