by Rob Summers
Chapter 6 Distractions
Bits Bitterly looked over the piles of books on the library table at Grace House, hundreds of them, each with Dignity’s smiling face pictured on its thin eight-and-a-half by eleven inch cover. He picked up a copy and strolled with it to a window. With slender fingers he ruffled the pages.
“Well, what do you think?” Reason was lying back in a comfortable old chair with her little feet propped up and her stomach protruding.
“The binding job is very good in its way,” he said, “but you shouldn’t have had to resort to this. I know, I know: you don’t mind being humbled. But I also know what it feels like to be unappreciated, overlooked.”
“Yes, it hasn’t been pleasant,” she said.
“I’ve hesitated to ask you,” he said, stepping near, “but couldn’t your ties with the Heavenly Embassy help you? Perhaps your husband?”
Reason looked steadily at a globe on a counter top. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? I don’t doubt that the Embassy could apply the sort of pressure we need, and we’ve certainly asked. But whether it’s just the wrong timing or for some other reason, we haven’t gotten any help. Not even a reply, really.”
“Oh Reason, that must be so frustrating. Don’t they care about you there? What’s wrong with them?”
“No, it’s all right,” she said and began to pull herself a little more upright. Bitterly took her hands and helped her. When this small adjustment was made, he kept her hands in his.
“You’re so lovely and so good,” he said. “Even when you’re wronged, you refuse to blame or accuse. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” He released her hands.
“Well, thank you! But—what do you mean you don’t deserve?”
“Oh, it just my old problem. The nerves, the mood swings. I’m not the sort of person people want to have around for long.”
“I disagree. I’ve had nothing but pleasant times with you the last few days. You’re stable enough.”
“More goodness!” He laughed. “How I envy Truth. I could never sustain a relationship myself.”
“You certainly used to attract the girls,” she said. “You’re so handsome and artistic. I’m sure it’ll work out for you yet. Some girl—”
“It didn’t work out with you,” he said in a low tone.
Reason smiled self-consciously. “Me? No, but—you remember I was so busy with my new job after high school graduation and with so much to do here for Dignity and his parents.”
“You didn’t have time for me, I remember.”
“Not much time. And then—don’t be offended, but you had no steady job and your health was, if not poor, then—”
“I was unstable.”
“No, not—not unstable exactly. I liked you, I always liked you. But if we were to become serious, I knew we’d need more to live on than your waiter’s job and readings from the Romantics.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course. Yes, it’s my own fault for not applying myself. But when you’re unwell, what can you do?” He turned away. “I was in love with you, did you know that?”
“Yes, you told me.”
“Did I?” He seemed surprised. “I told you once?”
“Over and over,” she said.
That chilled the conversation. Presently he said, “All for the best. You were intended for a better man, and I’m not going to dwell on the past.” He picked up the book copy again and said cheerfully, “No distractions. The Pride Story, that’s the whole point. How to market it. So the Embassy is letting us down too?”
“No, Bits, that’s what I started to say. The Embassy doesn’t let anyone down. However bad their decisions may look from time to time, we can be sure that there’s a sufficient justification behind them.”
“But no explanations?”
“No. I mean seldom do we get explanations. Sometimes it all becomes clear much later, sometimes it never does.”
He made a small mocking sound. “How could there be any reason for Heavenites not to promote a Heavenite book, a book that could do so much good?”
“I don’t know, Bits. That’s what I keep asking myself. I just have to accept it.”
“Can’t you go there and demand? Demand either some action on the book or an explanation?”
Reason was at a loss. “I guess I’m just not the demanding type.”
“A letter then,” he said and reached for stationery on a nearby table. “Here’s a pen.” He adjusted a lamp shade and, backing the paper with the book copy, laid them on his knee. “You dictate and I’ll write. You can’t just—oh, don’t cry, dear. No, don’t cry. Here, here’s my handkerchief.”
Reason dabbed her eyes and breathed unevenly. “Thank you. Only you would have a handkerchief when nobody carries them anymore. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been seeing so little of my husband lately, and—I thought he would help with this, but honestly, he doesn’t seem interested at all.” Bits took her hand reassuringly. “I really don’t know what I expect,” she said. “It’s all Truth can do to keep himself out of trouble. He’s been in jail again twice since we got married.”
As she tried to explain about Truth’s street preaching, Bits looked like a man valiantly trying to hide his shock and pity. He patted her shoulder and said understanding things without the least hint of real understanding. While this was going on, they gradually heard the sound of arguing voices, male and female, approaching outside in the hallway. Before long Dignity and Obscurity burst in, she carrying a phone and he trying to grab it from her.
“I know that’s the Embassy calling back,” Dignity said, “and I want to talk to them!”
Obscurity held the phone behind her back, daring him to reach around her. He turned to Reason and Bitterly. “The last time the Embassy called, she picked up and then said they were telling me not to bother her. Ha, I want to know what they really said. She’s nuts, you know, she’s certifiably nuts!”
While Dignity’s attention was diverted, Obscurity put the phone to her ear. “Obscurity here. What can I do for you?”
Dignity snatched the phone away from her and spoke into it himself. “Dignity.” He listened for a few moments while his posture relaxed and his face fell. “Oh. Sure, of course.” He glumly handed Obscurity the phone. “Here, it’s for you. Some lawyer’s office.”
She gave him a withering look and went out.
Dignity sat down fuming. He had already met Bits, who now came over and gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. “I don’t think either of you is in the mood for a publicity planning session today. I’ll just toddle back tomorrow morning, OK?”
Reason nodded. “Thank you, Bits.”
“You don’t mind if I look around the house on my way out? I just love the architecture of old places like this, especially when no Philistines have tampered with the original woodwork.”
“Feel free.”
When he had gone, Dignity turned a sour face to his cousin. “We want a publisher, and instead the Embassy sends us a white-haired lunatic. I suppose you’ve seen the backyard?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had time to think about it.”
“Thinking won’t explain it, believe me. But you’re right, we have the book to worry about. Hey, have you been crying?”
Reason still had Bits’ handkerchief, which she now used to quickly dab at her cheeks. She smiled. “Oh, you know how moody pregnant women are. They get weepy for no reason.”
“Do they? I didn’t know that.”
“But I’m sure I’ll feel better when we start selling books. We’ll both feel better because it’s what we’re fitted for, it’s what the Lord gifted us to do.”
“I wouldn’t want to go back to the way we used to be,” Dignity said, “to just living without focus. The Heavenly King wants us to reach out.”
“Right, this is our ministry,” she said.
“Our calling,” he added.
They were in complete agree
ment.
“So I’m starting to think,” Dignity said, “about the celebrity problem. People are going to start recognizing me on the street again. I’ll have to get us an unlisted phone number and maybe even start disguising myself.”
“Really?” said Reason. “What I’ve been thinking about is what to do with all the money.”