The Tuesday Morning Collection Page 5

  They were quiet again. Jamie stood and stretched. “Sorry for the tangent.” She smiled at Sue. “Not exactly relaxing beach conversation.”

  Sue worked her eyebrows together. For an instant Jamie wondered if her friend might say something to refute her statement. But instead the lines eased on Sue's face and she set her Diet Coke down on the sand.

  “Any time, Jamie. If you ever wanna talk about God, I'm here. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Jamie crossed her arms and studied the water until she spotted the distant jet ski. “Didn't see you at the funeral Sunday.”

  “No.” Sue drew a deep breath. “I'm not much for fire department funerals.”

  “But God's still in control, right? Even when a twenty-seven-year-old proby reels out a fire hose and falls over dead from a heart attack?”

  Sue's eyes grew wide and Jamie chided herself. Her tone had been cold, almost biting, but she hadn't meant it that way. She wasn't trying to argue, just prove a point.

  “I'm sorry.” Jamie reached out and touched her friend's arm. “You don't have to answer that.”

  “No.” Sue cleared her throat. “I want to answer you.” She bent forward and hugged her knees to her chest. “Yes … God's still in control, even at a proby's funeral. Somewhere, somehow, God has a plan in all of it. Even if we can't understand that plan right now.”

  “So God's in control … and you trust Him completely, right?” Jamie was baffled. This was the very reason she struggled with the notion of God. Because if there was a God, He wasn't fair. Some people lived untouched by tragedy into their eighties and nineties, while others—people like her parents or the proby—died tragic deaths with babies and loved ones waiting back home. “Even in death?”

  “Yes.” Sue's voice was full, passionate. “Even in death.”

  “Okay …” The argumentative tone was gone from Jamie's voice. In its place was a question that came from the depths of her soul. “Then, why don't I see you at the funerals?”

  “Because …” Sue stared across the beach at Katy and Sierra. When she answered, it seemed to come from the very deepest places in her soul. “Because I can't bear to think that someday God's plan might include a fire department funeral for Larry.”

  FOUR

  SEPTEMBER 7, 2001

  Laura pulled out of her driveway and turned her car toward the setting sun. It was a fifteen-minute drive to church, and she was grateful for the solitude. A handful of women were getting together to box up supplies they'd collected for an orphanage in Haiti. The church's college group was going to Port-au-Prince in a few weeks to paint the main building. The supplies would go ahead of them as part of an outreach.

  Laura was on the planning committee.

  Temperatures had spiked across the San Fernando Valley again, and that night as she made her way down the hill toward Thousand Oaks Boulevard, it was still ninety-two degrees. Laura rolled her window down and rested her arm on the door.

  Originally, Eric had agreed to work with her on this project. But he hadn't had time once so far, and tonight's meeting was the last before the outreach. In the past Laura had gone to church angry, clenching the steering wheel, wondering the whole evening long why her husband wasn't with her.

  But not this time.

  Since his fiasco with Josh's birthday the other day, the two of them had barely spoken to each other. Tonight he was staying home with Josh, spending time with their son for the first time all week. Laura was grateful for the time alone. She turned right and settled against the back of her seat.

  She knew what she was supposed to do. Go to church and help pack the supplies for Haiti, then come home and talk to Eric, tell him it was time to call a counselor. But this time the whole routine felt pointless and tiresome. They weren't kidding anyone anymore, not the people at church, not Josh, not God. Not even each other. Why make an appointment for counseling if nothing was going to change?

  Laura squinted behind her sunglasses and flipped down the visor. If only she had the guts to throw in the towel, turn the car around and storm up the drive, find Eric, and demand a divorce. It was the only thing that would set either of them free at this point.

  God … help me.

  The silent cry came from the depths of her soul and made the corners of her eyes sting.

  Daughter … I am with you … I know the plans I have for you, plans to give you a hope and a future and not to harm you …

  The Scripture came as easily as Laura's next breath, the same way it always had. Since she was adopted as a young teenager, she'd clung to the promise, believing that God truly knew the plans He had for her. Believing they were good. But what place did the words have in her life now? Good plans and hope? A future? The loveless routine she shared with Eric was hardly that. And what good could possibly come from their life together?

  Then, like the streaky lines across the summer sky, the answer came. Josh, of course. Josh was the good that had come from the two of them. Back from a time and place when she and Eric had loved each other more than life itself. And Josh was the one who would pay the price if she asked for a divorce.

  She turned her car into the church parking lot, pulled into a front row space, and turned off the engine. For a moment she sat there, letting her head fall against the steering wheel. No, she couldn't divorce Eric, not ever. He hadn't done anything wrong. He'd never cheated on her or slapped her or called her a bad name. He'd rarely said an unkind word.

  The familiar sting in her eyes grew stronger. She whisked her sunglasses off and tossed them on the seat beside her. As she did, a tear fell on her jean shorts and made a tiny wet circle on the denim. She'd been looking forward to the time alone, but not so she could break down. This was no time to cry. The committee would be there in five minutes, and the next few hours would culminate months of planning and collecting. Their efforts would help dozens of children in Haiti have food and medicine and school supplies.

  So what was the problem? Why did she feel like her world was falling apart, like a part of her heart would never breathe again?

  Laura wiped her eyes and sniffed twice. The answer was obvious. It wasn't what Eric had done that made her miserable, it was what he hadn't done. What he'd stopped doing somewhere along the trail of years. Whenever it was that he'd stopped keeping promises, when he'd stopped taking her on dates or spending a few moments with Josh.

  With Eric she shared little more than a functional business relationship. None of the love and passion she'd hoped to find by marrying the man, none of the magic they'd shared in their first few years together. But those weren't grounds for divorce—not even close.

  She gripped the steering wheel. God … there's no way out. Give me something, a sign, a reason to believe it'll get better one day. She was trapped in a prison of pretense and promises, and unless Eric had a change of heart, her sentence would last a lifetime. Because being president of Koppel and Grant wouldn't be enough for Eric; neither would making a million dollars. There would still be one more deal, one more meeting, one more corporate account to conquer.

  And those things would always take precedence over her and Josh.

  She wiped her eyes and lifted her head just as she heard footsteps come up along the side of her car.

  “Laura?”

  She jerked her head up, and there, standing just outside her car door, was Eric's brother, Clay. “Oh, hey.” As quick as she could, she grabbed her sunglasses and slipped them back on. She managed a smile. “You scared me.”

  Clay leaned closer and rested his forearms against the roof of her Escolade. “You're crying.”

  “No.” A plastic laugh forced its way across her lips. “Just a long day.”

  He cocked his head and studied her. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” She sniffed again. “What're you doing here?”

  Clay nodded over his shoulder to the church building. “Picking up a packet for Sunday school.” His grin was easy. “Second grade starts a new unit this Sunday.” He hesitated. “You here for the
mission meeting?”

  Laura nodded. She was grateful for the chance to collect herself. Clay knew her too well to be tricked, and the last thing she wanted was for this to be the moment when Clay finally understood the truth about her marriage.

  Clay took a step back and leaned against a van parked next to Laura's. “Isn't Eric supposed to be with you?”

  “He's too busy. Couldn't make the meetings.”

  “Oh.” Clay hesitated. “What about Josh?”

  “Eric's with him.” She forced the corners of her lips up again. “Just the two of them.”

  “That's good.”

  Laura drew a slow breath. “How was work?”

  “No car chases all week.” He grinned at her. “Must be some kind of record.”

  Laura's gaze fell to her hands. She hadn't seen Clay since the pizza place, and she needed to thank him. “Hey, about the birthday party …” She climbed out of the car, shut the door, and leaned against it so that she faced Clay. “Thanks for showing up. It meant a lot to Josh.”

  “Eric should've been there.” Something just short of anger flickered in Clay's expression. He locked onto Laura's eyes a beat longer than necessary. “It's a pattern, isn't it?”

  For an instant Laura had the strange urge to defend Eric. He was her husband, after all, and his work schedule had been this way since long before Josh was born. But she couldn't do it. Clay was right. Eric wasn't around enough, it was that simple.

  “Yes. For a while now.” She looked at a spot on the ground near her feet. No tears, God. Please. Not here, not now. “He and Josh barely know each other.”

  “He's crazy.” Clay clenched his teeth and let the air ease through them. “He works so hard he doesn't know what he's missing.”

  Laura looked at him and tried to read into that last sentence. She wanted to ask exactly what he meant, whether he was talking about Josh or her. But she knew better. There were certain lines in-laws didn't cross. Even if they'd been friends since high school. She found Clay's eyes again. “It could be worse.”

  “Yes.” The depth in Clay's eyes looked suddenly more pronounced. “Eric's a good guy, but … well, maybe his priorities need a little rearranging.” Clay shrugged. “He should've been at the party.”

  She nodded, and Clay seemed to sense that the conversation was hard on her.

  He leaned his head back and stared at the pink and orange sky above them. “Josh had fun … that's all that matters.”

  An image flashed in Laura's mind. Eric holding court with his colleagues at Koppel and Grant, waxing on about the virtues of one stock over the other, while Clay played air hockey with Josh at Chuck E. Cheese's. That didn't make Eric a bad guy, exactly. Lots of fathers worked too many hours, and she should be grateful Josh had someone like Clay. But instead of feeling grateful, her soul ached at the impossible situation she was in.

  Clay strained to see her eyes. “Talk to him, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Then without saying another word, he pulled her into a hug, the kind they'd shared a thousand times before, but one Laura needed more than air. “I'm here for you, Laura. For both of you. Don't let anything crazy happen.”

  Laura slid her fingers beneath her glasses and wiped at an errant tear. “We won't.”

  “Good.” He drew back and patted his hand against her cheek. “You're my two favorite people in the world.”

  She sniffed and pulled away, reaching into her car for her purse. “I know.”

  “Come on.” Clay took a step toward the church. “Everything's gonna be fine.”

  Three hours later Laura pulled into their driveway. Something about seeing Clay, hearing his optimism had lit a spark in her heart. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe they could get counseling again and make real changes this time. If they'd loved each other once, then somehow, someway God could lead them back to that place, right?

  She was about to step out of her car when she noticed something strange. A car sat parked in their driveway, and Laura stared at it, confused. It was nearly ten o'clock on a Friday night. Who could've been visiting at that hour? She grabbed her things and headed inside. Josh was sitting at the dining room table writing something, and next to him was Jenna, their baby-sitter.

  Laura froze in place, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. “Hello, Jenna.” She hesitated. “I expected to see Mr. Michaels.”

  The teenager smiled and slid an eraser across the table to Josh. “He got called into work.” She pointed to a stack of notepaper. “Josh and I were doing a little multiplication.”

  Laura set her things down and made her way slowly into the dining room. The moment she saw Josh's bloodshot eyes, she knew. Eric had done it again, made a promise and then broken it without a second thought as to how it would affect Josh.

  Anger trampled over Laura's optimism, and she held her tongue. She wouldn't talk about their troubles in front of Jenna. Laura pulled her wallet from her purse. “What time did you get here?”

  “Just before seven.” Jenna tousled Josh's hair and gave Laura a knowing look. “He's had a hard night.”

  Just before seven? Laura could've strangled Eric. She'd left for church at six-forty-five. That meant she hadn't been gone ten minutes when he called Jenna and headed off for work. Laura ordered herself to stay calm. “Did he say when he'd be home?”

  “Actually …” An uneasy expression filled Jenna's face. “He was gone by the time I got here. He said it was an emergency.”

  “You mean …” Laura's heart skipped a beat and then slid into an unrecognizable rhythm. “He left Josh alone?”

  “Just for a few minutes. I told him I'd be right over, so he put a video on for Josh.” Jenna directed her next sentence toward the child. “You were right where you were supposed to be, huh, buddy?”

  Josh nodded and cast Laura a look that was part anger, part unspeakable sorrow. Laura gave him a weak smile. “We'll talk in a minute, okay?”

  He hung his head and stared at his paper.

  Laura motioned for Jenna to follow, and the two of them moved across the house toward the front door. When they were alone in the foyer, Laura sighed. “Was Josh crying when you got here?”

  Jenna kept her voice low. “Sobbing.” She frowned. “Poor little guy. It took him half an hour to calm down.”

  Laura's blood moved from hot to boiling. She paid Jenna and stood there, staring at the tiles that made up their entryway. The fury inside her was so strong she couldn't move. How dare Eric do this? After what had happened on Josh's birthday … and with a trip to New York tomorrow morning? Her anger became rage. Maybe she should drive to Koppel and Grant's offices and tell Eric it was time. A separation was the only way to stop the damage to Josh.

  But that wasn't possible, not now anyway. Not with Josh sitting defeated and brokenhearted in the next room.

  She exhaled slowly. God … get me through this. How can I love Eric and hate him all at the same time? She returned to the dining room and found her son at the table. “Josh?” Without making a sound, she took the seat beside him and reached for his hands. “What did Daddy tell you?”

  Huge tears welled up in Josh's eyes, and he barely lifted one shoulder. “It was a special meeting. A 'mergency.” Josh sniffed and ran the back of his hand beneath his eyes. No doubt he wanted to be strong in front of her. The sadness, the disappointment, was simply too great. “He said he'd make it up to me when he comes back from New York.”

  “Well …” Laura clenched her teeth. It was the same thing Eric always said. “He is extra busy before a trip, Josh.” The words were purely for Josh's sake. So the child wouldn't hate his father. “I'm sure he wanted to stay.”

  “Sometimes I think …” Josh twisted his face, and a sob sounded from deep in his chest. “He doesn't even like me, Mom.”

  “Josh!” She pulled the boy close, silently cursing Eric for everything he'd never been to the boy. “That isn't true. Your father's a very busy man. Just because he isn't home much doesn't mean he doesn't like y
ou.” She soothed her hand down his back and felt his small body jerk and twitch as he began to sob. “He loves you, buddy. Really.”

  “If … if he loves me, why didn't he come to my birthday party?” Josh grabbed three quick breaths. “And why did he leave me all alone tonight?”

  Laura's heart throbbed. She had no answers for her son. She wanted to tell him he was reading his father wrong, that the man hadn't always been this way, and that come next week things would be back to normal. But as far back as she could remember, this series of missed moments and broken promises was the most normal thing either of them knew.

  “Next weekend—” She stopped herself. What about next weekend? Would Eric even remember his promise to take Josh to the beach, to buy him a boogie board, and play with him on the shore all day? Why would he? Surely, there'd be a dozen meetings to follow up the trip to New York. And someone's stock performance was bound to put Koppel and Grant in a tailspin. It happened every time. Eric might still have the audacity to make promises to Josh, but Laura couldn't bring herself to repeat them.

  Her son was staring at her, his eyes puffy and red. “Next weekend what?”

  Laura pulled back and sat straighter in her chair. “I was thinking of the beach.”

  “You know what?” Josh pulled one leg up and hugged his knee to his chest. “I don't like the beach. I want a basketball so Dad could take me to the park to shoot. Like the other dads.”

  Several times that past summer, Josh had gone to the park with his friends and their fathers, and even with Clay once. The gym was open all day Saturday, and local fathers and sons had adopted the place. Josh had mentioned it to Eric three times at least, but Eric was either busy at his computer, or going over a list of documents, or about to make a phone call. He'd wave Josh off and nod quickly. “Sure, son … you bet. One of these days we'll go to the park and shoot hoops.”