Focused Page 18

  No. Not now, she told herself. He was being absurd and secretive and she wasn’t sure he was the best man. She sighed and looked her husband straight in the eye. Trouble had come knocking after all and she refused to splash back into the goldfish bowl. She needed to get a real perspective on her husband’s sudden outburst. She determined to meet it head on, and do it in love.

  Here goes nothing. Talk through me this, Lord.

  Chapter 35 Look in the Mirror

  Christina couldn’t keep the lump out of her throat. Her brain warned her not to let a sound out of her mouth just yet. Her eyes began to swim and she turned to look at the hutch with all the bits and pieces of hers and his story on it. Their toasting glasses. The candlesticks her aunt gave them as a wedding present. The picture of them sitting on the bench in the park at Josh’s third birthday party, gathered over the cake miming how to blow out the candles. The china cardinal perched on a dogwood branch he had given her for her birthday when they couldn’t afford for him to even give her a card. The silver framed picture of them on their twentieth anniversary surrounded by friends on a rented dinner boat. Jeff got seasick on an hour excursion around Lake Travis. How on earth would he handle a cruise?

  She blinked and turned back to him. “I’m afraid whatever I say will be taken the wrong way,” she whispered through the hoarseness. Secretly she prayed that she could do this. She could face conflict.

  “Okay.” came the response. He stood up and went into the kitchen.

  At first her heart sunk. Why did he walk away? I thought we’d come so far. Why this, why now?

  Then, Christina heard the water running and the clink of glass. His footsteps sounded on the rug again. He gently set a glass of water down beside her.

  “Not exactly the way I clunked one down next to you the night before my escape. Maybe you’ve calmed down a bit? “

  She looked up at his eyes peering over the glass of water tilted over his mouth. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and put the glass down next to hers. His eyes were clouded in mystery. She couldn’t read them.

  “I’ll try not to react.” He sat down on the couch, clasped his hands together and leaned into her space, invading her comfort, and yet, providing it.

  Christina blinked the stinging saltiness from her eyelashes. She rubbed them on her nightgown hem and sniffed. “I think he was hoping there would be something. Bud, I mean. But I never led him down any path, Jeff. Never.”

  “Why did you invite him here?” her husband’s voice dropped a few decibels as he remembered the subject of their conversation lay sleeping a few doors down the hall.

  “I don’t know. Honestly,” Christina softened her voice as well. “It just blurted out as if someone else was doing the talking. He just seemed so hurt over Alice. I was afraid if I reacted too quickly to comfort him, he’d take it the wrong way. Maybe I wanted him on my turf instead.”

  “Go on.”

  “Jeff, he helped me through a lot of stuff when I was in high school. The hurt when Mark broke up with me and took Martha to the prom instead. Losing my brother Carl when he moved to L.A. for those four years so Dawn could take care of her mother. Dad finally ‘fessing up that his alcohol was out of control and admitting himself into that hospital in Dallas.”

  Jeff nodded. “If I had known you better then…”

  “But you didn’t. Bud did. And I was vulnerable. Every male in my life was deserting me or letting me down, except him. I sent the wrong message and he picked up on it.”

  “You mean back then.”

  Christina straightened up and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, back then.” She stopped and swallowed some water, shoving the desire to slap him silly back down into her stomach. “It really hurt him, Jeff. For years he wouldn’t talk to me. He’d walk away. That’s why you never met him until the rodeo dance a few years ago.”

  “The man holds a grudge… or something… for a long time doesn’t he?”

  “You mean a flame?” She looked him in the eyes again. This was getting easier. The knots in her gut and lower back were slowly unwinding. She felt a mighty Hand by her side.

  “I’d say a spark of it is still there, Christina. Not that I can blame him.”

  His response jolted her. Was he hinting that she was worth carrying a flame over after all these years? That he thought she was attractive or desirable? “You, you can’t? Why?”

  “For the love of Pete, woman, look in the mirror.” His tone was exasperating, not compassionate. Then his eyes softened. “You’re still easy on the eyes, hon. Don’t you know that?”

  “No. You never tell me. I didn’t think I was to you anymore.”

  Jeff slid back into the sofa and rested his head against the wall. He examined the ceiling intensely. The look in his tense-jawed face revealed his thoughts. There it was again. The same thing shoved in his face. May as well engrave it on the forehead, “I never tell my wife.”

  Christina averted her eyes to a path of slivery moonlight splashing across the rug. Well, it was true. It was about time he knew how it affected her. Everyone wants to be told now and then that they look nice, or did something right, or whatever. Mustering her strength and new resolve not to cower or smooth things over, she willed her voice to reply, “Everyone needs compliments now and then. Even from Jeff Willis.” It came out in a croaky whisper, but it came out.

  Silence.

  She heard the crickets chirping in the warm spring night air. Her husband’s breathing was returning to normal, and perhaps his blood pressure. He folded his hands across his chest and sighed. “My fault.” he simply stated after a moment. Then she saw his gaze return to her. “Is that why you drove up there? To find out if another man would tell you…”

  “Jeff. No. I told you. I drove up there to talk to God. I needed to find out if I was still Okay in His eyes, no one else’s.”

  She paused and looked away for a moment. “I guess that sounds stupid. But, trust me. I had no idea Bud was up there. I had not seen him in years. Never stayed in touch with the Owens at all. I didn’t know where he was or that he was divorced or anything like that. Not till his dad drove down to check on me. After the flood.”

  Her eyes couldn’t hold back the tears any more. She got up and sat beside her husband. She felt him shift his weight, wrap his arm around her and draw her close.

  The next few minutes Jeff held her as her shoulders heaved back and forth in quiet sobs. Had she seen his eyes well up as well? He hated to hurt his wife, it was like stabbing himself. It tore at his gut. But they had decided to be more honest with each other. Tonight, both kept that promise. Nostrils had flared and tears had flowed, but truth prevailed. Maybe tomorrow they’d actually like each other again. They both needed a good night’s sleep to even the situation.

  “Let’s continue this after he’s left, Okay? He will leave someday, right?” Stretching, he stood up to grab his pillow. “It’s late and I got a heck of a day tomorrow.”

  “You always do.”

  He shot her a look. She looked down and bit her lip. From her face he could tell she was sorry those words had come out of her mouth. He also knew she was still a bit ticked off. Join the club.

  “Comes with the territory, I guess.” He let it go for now. “Let’s go to bed. I’m bushed.”

  “Then why did you bring it up in the first place?”

  Jeff peered into her. He lifted a finger in warning, lest this turn into round two. “Not tonight.” He padded down the hall, afghan dragging behind him.

  He heard his wife’s footsteps following the back of his robe down the hall into the master bedroom. Simultaneously, they crawled into bed. No more words were spoken. He air-pecked her cheek. Then rolled over and flopped his head on his pillow.

  For the rest of the night she slept on her edge of the bed and he on his, neither wanting to touch the other. The cats took advantage of the situation and sprawled out in the middle.

  Chapter 35 Planning Stages

  In a few weeks, Father Rick’s
son, Gideon, graduated from high school. Christina noticed the graduation announcement on his desk in the church office while she looked for the stapler. She always volunteered to help the church secretary Jean print, fold and mail out the quarterly pledge statements. She glanced at the announcements in that week’s pew bulletin but saw nothing about the end of school or graduation. Something didn’t fit.

  “Jean?” she asked as she busily folded the pledge statements. “Are we planning anything for the kids’ going though graduation?”

  “We always get them a Bible,” Jean responded with an eyebrow raised. “Why?”

  “Never mind. It’s just that…” she stopped and decided to divert her thoughts away from Harriet and Jeff’s conversation a few Sundays ago. “That...” she started over, “Gideon is graduating, right?”

  The boy had been in an accident six months prior when a drunk driver ran a red light and plowed into the driver’s side of his car. His legs pinned, the EMS firemen used the Jaws of Life to get him out. Luckily, his date only suffered some scrapes from shattered glass and a few bruised ribs from her seat belt’s grip.

  Gideon underwent three surgeries on his legs and had only recently been able to walk without crutches. The honor student kept up with his courses through pure determination. With the same conviction, he vowed to parade across the stage at his graduation ceremony with his class, the effort supported on prayer lists for months in several churches throughout the area. Despite some objections, Father Rick had seen to it that the drunk driver was prayed for as well. He placed the man’s name on their weekly parish prayer list right after the accident along with his son’s.

  Father Rick explained, “If God could forgive the crowds for crucifying His son, I should be able to forgive the man who maimed mine.”

  Though many admired him for it, he confided to the women’s Tuesday Bible study group the gesture was purely for survival. Praying for the guy was the only way he kept his faith together through it all. Otherwise, his bitterness would have numbed him from experiencing God’s presence.

  “Yes he is graduating after all,” Jean replied proudly. “Father Rick says Gideon has caught up and will receive his diploma with his class.”

  “Thanks Jean. I have to run. I’ll call you later today.” If Jean didn’t know of a shindig, there wasn’t one in the planning. Jean kept abreast of all the parish happenings. Christina decided to discuss that one with Jeff later. In the meantime, a little small voice told her to do something else. She decided, for once, to obey.

  That afternoon, she quickly notified the rest of the women on the Parish Functions Committee and together they met at her house after work on Thursday to sneakily plan a reception in Gideon’s honor. To her surprise, Jeff did not retreat to the garage, but stayed and offered his suggestions as well. No stage was mentioned.

  “I think we should get a cake from Bonnie’s Bakery, frosted in his school colors.” Gladys offered as she rose to refill her coffee cup. Gladys could drink coffee right up until she went to bed. Christina often wondered if she kept a cup on her bedside table.

  “Will one sheet be enough? How many does that feed?” Harriet pondered, as her hands mimed piece sizes and her lips counted.

  Then it occurred to Christina.”Wait a minute. Aren’t there others graduating this year as well?” She quickly phoned Jean, who was still up at the church for the Vestry meeting. Putting her on the speakerphone, she relayed their question and Jean confirmed that four other students from two other schools were graduating as well.

  “But why do you ask?” she inquired and sounded a little hurt. “You know I ordered the Bibles for them already. You asked me that a few days ago. We always give the graduates a Bible…”

  “Oh, of course, Jean, of course.” Christina yelled into the speakerphone to make sure the secretary heard every word. “No. We, uh… the Parish Functions Committee is here meeting at my house, and well, we thought it might be nice to give Gideon a reception.”

  Harriet piped in, “You know. To honor his recovery and his where-for-all to graduate with his class. After all, the circumstances are unusual, Jean. We just didn’t want the other graduates to feel slighted. That’s all. What schools do they attend, do you know?”

  Pacified, Jean rattled off the names and the schools they went to. “But you know”, she added, “We’ve never had a reception before. Some of the parents of past graduates may get bent out of shape.”

  Dear Jean, always the diplomat and thinking of all the little angles. It came with the job and she did it well.

  “I know.” Christina responded a little disturbed. For once she determined not to let what everyone else might think deter her. “I’m one of those parents, remember? If they can’t look past their noses to see Gideon is a special case, well pardon my French, but they can go to you know where.”

  “Here, here,” chanted in the background and Betty patted her on the back.

  “Good for you, Christina. Good for you. Those prayers are working, girl.” Harriet echoed.

  Christina squeezed her hand. By now, her Tuesday group was well aware of her refocused revelations . . . well, most of them.

  Jean just chuckled. “Okay. Frankly I think it’s a wonderful idea. I will do some damage control and call a few of the parents of the last two or three years’ graduates to let them know that it is mainly for Gideon because of all he has been through, preacher’s son or no. I’ll also ask if they want to help out with the food. If that doesn’t pacify them, who cares.”

  “I knew you would know the best way to handle it,” Christina replied, pumping up her friend’s ego. Jean defined the mortar that held all the little bricks in the Church together, figuratively and maybe, at times, literally. She didn’t want her feathers ruffled at all.

  As a ruse, Betty suggested that they have an “Invite Your Friend to Church” Sunday that day just like the Presbyterians did. “Jean, tell Father Rick we’re having a small reception after Church for the guests.”

  Harriet spoke up again. “Jean, let them know in the Vestry meeting that the Functions Committee wants to do it that day because it’s right before the schools let out.”

  “Yes, before summer starts and attendance drops, as it always does,” Gladys said, adding in her two cents to the reason for doing it then.

  “We better not remind them of that or they’ll get off track discussing how we’ll pay the summer utility bills,” Jean laughed.

  The trick worked. Jean called back to say she had put it on the agenda first, and that the Vestry unanimously agreed. In fact, they voted it should be done on a quarterly basis. The women hooted with laughter. Then, with thumbs up, they all congratulated Betty on her slyness before they all grabbed some more cookies and coffee. Refreshed, the committee continued to plan the event.

  “There should be plates in each of the schools’ colors as well as streamers,” Linda suggested.

  Christina added, “I know the Party WareHaus Outlet will have graduation themed napkins and centerpieces. Maybe they’ll give us a discount.”

  “Or donate it all together. I heard they did that for the Baptists when the pastor’s daughter married.” Harriet always heard everything, though sometimes a little skewed.

  “The third through fifth grade Sunday school class can make a banner that day and we could hang it up while communion is going on. The younger kids can decorate pennants. I’d have them pre-drawn and cut out in advance,” said Susan, the head of the Christian Education program.

  The next day during lunch, Christina put in an order for two quarter sheet cakes and one half sheet cake, each to be frosted with the three school colors and the names of the graduates from each school. The parents were notified by letter not to tell their students about the surprise. In the letter, Jean assured their son or daughter would get their Bibles in Church as well, per tradition. Most of all, they were not to let Father Rick nor Mary, his wife, find out about it since their son was graduating as well. And of course, the families were more than welcome
to invite their relatives and close friends. It would be “Invite a Friend Sunday” as well. Bases covered.

  The following morning, the youth leader Barry called and left a message on Christina’s voice mail volunteering him and his wife, Belinda, to get the ice and the chips. She called back, only to get his answering machine.

  “Tag you’re it. Thanks. Would love for you to get the ice. As far as chips, can you get both tortilla and potato chips? Thanks. God Bless. Bye.”

  Thank God for a generous person like Barry. And all her other friends, big hearted, willing to pitch in. Several women were bringing finger sandwiches, fresh fruit and veggies, and plenty of dips to go with them. Betty volunteered to create her famous Lime Sherbet punch.

  * * *

  Christina spent two full evenings at home enhancing the store bought centerpieces with ivy and little diplomas tied with ribbons in the various schools colors. Jeff helped by cutting the ribbons in precise measured lengths. Bud stayed in his room, getting changed for a night on the town, no doubt with Mary Ellen. Christina tried to not let it get to her as she wove the ivy into the first of the twelve centerpieces. Jeff picked up a plastic bag. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, they had that on special. I couldn’t resist. It’s a banner with “Congratulations” on it, for over the beverages table,” she proudly announced. “And look. I found some balloons in the colors of the schools.”

  “Good job, hon. But then, you always do.” Jeff volunteered as he tied the diplomas, and cut manageable lengths of floral wire for the ivy. She blushed at his rare compliment then wondered what had gotten in to him. He acted like a child two weeks before Santa came. Way too nice. Have our tearful conversations sunk into his brain? Or, is it something else?