A Beautiful Mess

by Brenda S Anderson

  Erin sat with her in the office chair.

  “I go home.” Clara snuggled in, and her body quivered.

  “Oh, Lolli . . . ” She drew the child in closer. “You have a new home now, with me and Mik.” At least until a better home could be found.

  “I no wike your house. I wike mine.”

  Erin did her best to hold in a sigh. As it was, Clara likely sensed Erin’s feelings. “I know, Lolli, I know. It’s okay to be sad when you have a new home.”

  That was what Debbie would tell her. It was okay to be sad. To be happy. Angry. To feel. What you chose to do with those feelings is what mattered. Like in that Pixar movie, Inside Out.

  “I be sad?”

  “You can absolutely be sad. You can cry, if that’s how you feel.”

  If only Erin had heard those words when she was young, instead of, “Cry and I’ll give you something to cry about.” Her mom had never hurt her physically, though.

  She shook off her self-pity and settled the now mostly calm child on her lap. “You can come to me any time and tell me how you feel, understand?” No one would invalidate this child’s feelings.

  Clara nodded, and rubbed her fists over her eyes. “I ’stand.”

  “Good. Now I have a question for you. If I get you a big girl bed, will that help?”

  “A big girl bed?” Clara sat up straight, her blue eyes round as Tootsie Pops, fitting her nickname.

  “Mm, hmm. Like Mik’s but one just your size.” When they’d gone to Corey’s house, Erin had noticed that the crib had been converted into a toddler bed. It was too large for this room, or she would have asked Jon if they could move it here. But she’d seen other toddler beds online that would fit.

  “My size?”

  “Special for you.” Erin bopped her nose. “After you sleep tonight, we’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

  “I wike shopping.” Clara’s face lit up as bright as the streetlight.

  I’ll bet you do. Her mother had loved shopping, too, but she’d also had plenty of money to spend. Erin carried Clara over to the bed and laid her down. “Goodnight, Lollipop.”

  “Ni’ night, wowwipop.”

  Erin smothered a warm grin as she left the room. No, she would not let that child worm her way into her heart. She couldn’t. That would only end up with two more broken hearts.

  Chapter Eleven

  Corey

  June 5, 2014

  I discovered something today, something that made me feel alive again.

  After work, I didn’t want to go home. I couldn’t smile and tell Erin everything was okay. I couldn’t face her after work, so I lied. Told her I was going to a ballgame with Jon.

  Instead, I went to the new art gallery in Brainerd. I used to dream about having my paintings on the gallery wall, but then Erin got pregnant, we got married, and I had to grow up and be a husband and father.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love Erin and Mik, and couldn’t imagine life without them in it, but being a parent does force you to change priorities. Since paint supplies cost a lot of money, it had to go. I didn’t realize until today how much I missed it.

  Today I spent more than three hours soaking up the displays, and it felt like only one had passed.

  I should tell Erin the truth. She’d probably join me. But I like having this to myself.

  I also like, maybe a little too much, this prodigal rush. It must be what Zax feels when he’s doing something Mom and Pop don’t approve of. But it’s not like I’m doing something bad. I’m not going to bars and getting drunk. I’m not cheating on Erin. I’m not doing drugs. I’m going to an art gallery! What’s wrong with that?

  __________

  He lied to me!

  No doubt, that was how the affair started. Numb, Erin tucked Corey’s journal into its drawer. That woman had worked at that gallery.

  Erin got out of bed and drew on a robe. The truth of Corey’s words frosted her veins. He’d hated his job. He didn’t or couldn’t tell her. Why hadn’t she seen it? Why did she have to be this ice queen who couldn’t read people’s feelings and gestures? Shouldn’t a wife be able to tell when her husband was unhappy?

  The doorbell rang as she shuffled toward the kitchen. Who would be stopping by this early? She glanced at the clock on the microwave. Whoa. Eleven thirty already? Way past time to be up and dressed and in her office.

  More importantly, was Clara okay? She never slept this long. Whereas Mik would sleep all day if Erin allowed.

  If it was Joyce or Debbie, she’d answer. They could deal with her just-out-of-bed look. She tightened the belt around her robe and looked through the peephole.

  Jon? What was he doing here? No way could she answer the door looking like Cruella de Vil’s ugly stepsister. She stepped back a few feet then yelled, “Be there in a moment.”

  First, she checked on Clara. Sound asleep still, with her stuffed crocodile, Chomper, cuddled in one arm and her thumb in her mouth. Whew.

  Then she hustled to the bathroom and tugged a brush through her tangles and ran a toothbrush over her teeth. Finally, she threw on a pair of jogging pants and a long shirt. For Jon, she didn’t need to be fancy, but she did need to be out of her pajamas. Finally set, she answered the door, and warm air rushed in ahead of Jon.

  Hard to believe that less than a week ago, a blizzard had taken Corey’s life.

  “You okay?” Jon squeezed past her, a thick file folder in his hands, glasses on his face, and his signature bowtie attached to his shirt. All business and giving off a slight Clark Kent vibe. This was the Jon she remembered.

  “I uh . . . ” She stared out the door. “It’s spring.”

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I noticed that too.”

  In other words, he was mourning. At least that was what she thought he meant. She shut the front door and gestured to her couch. “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged. “Mostly. I figure diving into work will help me deal with stuff.”

  “Or bury it.”

  “So, you’re a psychologist now?” He quirked a smile.

  “When you’ve talked to them as often as I have, you pick up on a few things.”

  He pointed to the spot beside him, but she chose the rocker kitty-corner to the couch. A psychologist may have something to say about that as well.

  “What brings you here?” She eyed the file on his lap.

  “I promised you work.” He pulled a page out of the front of the file. “Mine plus a bunch of other recommendations. I know my account alone won’t keep you afloat, but getting a few of us should keep bread and butter on the table.” He handed over the page.

  She scanned through the list. All attorneys, no surprise, but many would have deep pockets. Jon certainly did. “Thank you for this.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  That didn’t make sense. She shook her head. “You owe me nothing.” He hadn’t made promises that he’d broken. He’d just . . . disappeared when she needed him.

  “But I do owe you.” With his pointer finger, he nudged his glasses into place. One would think with his income he could afford glasses that wouldn’t slide down. “I shouldn’t have been your divorce attorney. It didn’t feel right at the time and it feels slimy to this day. I shouldn’t have made it easy for him to go away, but I did, and I can never repay you for my part in your break-up.”

  Erin just sat there, stunned. Not once had she blamed Jon, rather she’d been grateful that he’d offered his services pro bono during the divorce. And now this.

  Maybe a Clark Kent comparison wasn’t so far off.

  * * *

  Jon grabbed his leather briefcase from his car and slung it over his shoulder before crossing the busy street to his office. Objective number one had been met for the day: he’d passed his bookkeeping tasks on to Erin and given her several more recommendations. Hopefully, a few of them would pan out for her. She deserved to have something positive happen.

  Objective number two was to inform his current bookkeeper that his
services were no longer required. Not easy, as Taskforce Accounting had done a superb job for him over the years, but making it up to Erin, and making certain Mik and Clara had a good life, took precedence.

  He entered the front door of the nearly hundred-year-old office building, a reminder that not everything ended in ruin, even though that was the message he’d learned much of his life and throughout his career. He hadn’t planned on thriving as a divorce attorney—he also handled family law and estate planning—but divorce was where he made his money. And sometimes that ate at his gut, that he was so good at bringing marriages to a legal end.

  “Hey, Jon, you in the clouds?”

  Jon shook his head and slammed on his brakes before walking right into Zax in the wide-open foyer. “Man, I’m sorry. Just waxing nostalgic. Wondering how I became known as the Divorce Authority. Not exactly the moniker I would have chosen for myself.”

  “Yeah, but from what I hear you end up keeping more families together, and those that split do so as amicably as possible.”

  Jon shifted the briefcase to his other shoulder. “Like Corey and Erin? On the outside, it looked amicable, but you and I know differently.”

  “Well, in that case, you stood up for Erin. Considering that witch Corey married, if not for you, Erin could have found herself on the street.”

  Jon pushed past his friend. He didn’t appreciate someone speaking ill of the deceased, but he also couldn’t argue with Zax’s statement. If Lilith and her money had had a say, Erin and Mik would have had to find a new home. With prodding from Jon, Corey had stood up to her.

  But like Corey, Lilith had changed these past months as well, proving that God was a God of miracles.

  Time to change the subject away from Corey and his issues. “What brings you here? Looks like you were heading out.”

  Zax leaned against the brick wall and showed that grin women seemed to swoon over. “Your secretary—”

  “Legal assistant.”

  “—and I hit it off yesterday—”

  “At the funeral?”

  “—and I told Gina I’d drop by today so we could plan something. She promised to show me her hot-pink pickup.”

  Naturally. Jon should have anticipated they’d get together when he saw the two seated across from each other during the post-funeral meal.

  “Gina’s engaged. Leave her alone.”

  “Said she broke it off. They’re no longer together.”

  “Oh.” Well that was the best news he’d heard all day. Why an intelligent woman would choose to date someone who treated her like mud, he’d never know. But then to move on to a player like Zax? “Just treat her with respect.”

  “Hey, I respect every woman I go out with.”

  Right. “Somehow I think you and I have a different meaning for respect.”

  “Coming from the thirty-year-old virgin.” Zax smirked and put his hand on the metal door plate. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

  “If you want a way to kill some time, I know a couple of adorable females who would love to see you.”

  “They wouldn’t happen to go by the names of Sixlet and Lollipop?”

  “They’re the ones.”

  “Not a bad idea.” With a wink, Zax left the building.

  And Jon stood there shaking his head. How Zax and Corey were the sons of the Beldens, the most upright couple he knew, Jon would never comprehend. The Beldens had been more parental toward him than his own father, who hadn’t given a rip about his son. If not for the Beldens, Jon wouldn’t be where he was today. More importantly, he wouldn’t have his faith to lean on. They’d done the same for Erin. Somehow, their faith hadn’t spread to Corey and Zax.

  Speaking of which, he handed both Zax and Gina over to God and prayed for wisdom in dealing with them.

  He entered his office space where Gina had on a headset and was engrossed in typing something on her computer.

  “Morning, Counselor,” she said without slowing. How she spoke, listened, and typed at the same time and maintained nearly a hundred percent accuracy, he’d never know. She was the queen of multi-tasking.

  “Good morning.” He set his briefcase down on a visitor chair and motioned for her to remove her headset. “Got a moment?”

  “Sure thing.” She pulled her hands away from the keyboard, circled the headset around her neck, and swiveled toward him. “Let me guess, you ran into Zax on your way in.” She was also clairvoyant, it seemed.

  “Sure did. Told me you and what’s-his-face broke up.”

  “Yep.” She wriggled the fingers on her engagement ring-free hand. “I finally listened to you.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “And don’t worry about Zax. We’re just going to have some fun while he’s in town. He needs something to take the edge off of losing his brother, so we’re gonna go dancing.”

  It was the kind of dancing Jon worried about, the kind that included heavy drinking, and could find her pregnant, with Zax an ocean away.

  “I see those cogs turning in your head, Counselor.” She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. Besides, why are you concerned with my love life when you have issues of your own?”

  He fiddled with his tie. “I don’t have issues.”

  “You don’t? Then why is a kind, wealthy, good-looking man like you single, huh?”

  He leaned his head back, bonking it on the wall. This again. He wasn’t going to rehash it with her. “None of your business.” He started to stand.

  “True. Corey’s ex-wife is none of my business, but someday you’re going to deal with your feelings for her.”

  “She’s a friend.” This time he did stand.

  “Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that.” She put on her headset and resumed typing. Conversation over.

  He would keep telling himself that he didn’t have feelings for Erin until he believed it. He’d witnessed the destruction of far too many families in his short career. Many were Christian couples, good couples, some who had been together for fifty years! He couldn’t promise Erin that would never happen to them. Yes, he’d promised Corey he’d care for Erin and the girls, but “care for” was a long way from marriage. Besides, he could not bear hurting her again.

  * * *

  Erin bounced Clara on her lap, trying to stop the child from crying, as she brought up the first name on the list of potential contacts Jon had given her. She located their website. Learned their specialties. Checked their Google rating, everything she could think of to show that she’d done her research before calling them. Marketing herself wasn’t her gift, but she realized that if she wanted to have a successful home-based bookkeeping business, selling her services would now be part of her job description.

  But making the sale couldn’t be done with a small child in tow. It was time to wake up her teenager and put her to work babysitting. Oh, Mik was going to love that. Not! The fact that Erin had let her sleep in this long should buy Erin some cred, but pubescent teenagers weren’t exactly logical.

  She set Clara on the floor, which brought on another wail. Yah. This was going to be one fun day. Rather than pick her up and spoil her, she took Clara’s hand. “Want to help me wake up Mik?”

  And just like that, the tears stopped. Clara adored her big sister, even if big sis didn’t return the feeling. Clara led the way to Mik’s room and knocked on the door.

  “Wissa, wake up! Time to pway!”

  “Go away!”

  Not happening, dear child. Erin knocked on the door this time and summoned her compassionate voice. “Honey, I realize this is a tough week for you, but I’m going to need your help.”

  Mik hurled a word Erin did not allow.

  “Lord, You have to help me here, because my temper is about to erupt,” she prayed under her breath. Reacting to that word was exactly what Mik wanted, and it would catch Clara’s attention, so Erin would ignore it. For now. And remove Clara from the situation so she wouldn’t be privy to m
ore colorful words from her sister.

  “Lollipop. It’s nap time.” Technically, it wasn’t, but she needed the child out of earshot.

  “I no wike naps.”

  “I know, Lolli. Just a little one will make you feel better, and you get to sleep in your new bed!”

  “I no wike it.”

  “But Chomper does.” Erin picked up the child struggling to be released, and carried her into the nursery. She set her down in the toddler bed she’d purchased that morning with Clara’s approval, and tucked her in beside her pet crocodile. Clara stayed put but unleashed a torrent of tears and screams.

  Yippee.

  Not that Erin didn’t expect it, but she’d hoped the bed and Chomper would ease the naptime routine.

  She left the nursery and shut the door, muting the screams slightly. Then she returned to Mik’s door. Maybe her daughter was doing the right thing. Hiding away to grieve, where Erin was just trying to move on, one slow step at a time.

  Perhaps trying a Debbie-like tactic would work. She knocked on the door. “Want to talk about it?”

  There came that ugly word again. Erin couldn’t not say something, right? Silence would be giving Mik permission to speak like that. Erin would rather confront her face to face than with the door in between them, so she tried the knob. Locked, naturally. Now what? How was she supposed to deal with a thirteen-year-old who’d just lost her father? For the second time?

  Erin couldn’t relate to that. Her father had never been around.

  God, what do I do?

  Debbie would probably tell Erin that Mik was dealing with her grief by lashing out at the person closest to her, and that Erin should love her in return.

  But how do you do that?

  There was one way to find out. She leaned her back against the door and slid down until she was sitting. With silence from Mik behind her and screams from Clara in front, she spread out her arms and opened up her hands, opening herself up to hearing from God.

  “I don’t know what to do.” She whispered so Mik wouldn’t hear. Probably wouldn’t anyway, over Clara’s cries. “I’m trying to be the best mom I can, but I don’t know how. My mom never taught me. I know I’m supposed to love them, but what does that look like? Does it look like discipline? Does it look like wrapping them in a hug they try to fight out of? Should I be selective with the battles I choose to fight? Is letting Mik get away with that behavior loving or damaging? I. Don’t. Know! And I really, really need Your wisdom.”