Composing Amelia

by Alison Strobel

  “So, speaking of which, Marcus is in Nebraska now, right?” Amelia had texted Jill about her conversation with Marcus the morning after their fight, to which Jill had replied with the famous quote from My Big Fat Greek Wedding: “The man is the head, but the woman is the neck …”

  Amelia looked at the time on her cell phone. “Yep, he should be there. The weather’s miserable there right now; you should see the weekend forecast.”

  “Aw, poor guy.”

  “No—this is good. He’s such a California boy. The man still surfs, for Pete’s sake. Can you imagine Marcus shoveling snow and scraping ice off the windshield? I know it’s a little evil of me to think this, but I’m hoping he realizes he doesn’t want to live through those winters. It’d be nice if he comes to realize that he doesn’t want this job, versus me having to cash in on his promise.”

  Jill gave her an admonishing look. Amelia’s chin raised a bit. “What?”

  “I don’t know,” Jill said, focusing her gaze on the dragon roll on her plate. “Never mind, it’s none of my business anyway.”

  “No, seriously. What?”

  Jill shifted on her stool, her eyes only briefly meeting Amelia’s. “I guess it just seems a little … cold … that you’re not even considering the possibility. Isn’t there any room to be at least a little open-minded?”

  Amelia sat up straighter. “Why? The odds are against him, and I got the job I wanted here. Would God have set me up with that if His plan also included us moving? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Jill’s gaze flickered back and forth between her plate and Amelia. “Yeah, but it seems you and Marcus have conflicting ideas of what God wants right now. I just wonder if it’s good to believe that when something happens the way you want it to, God won’t mess with it. What if God really does want this job for Marcus?”

  “What are you saying—that God is going to rip my success away from me just to teach me a lesson?”

  Jill gave Amelia an imploring look. “Come on, that’s not what I mean. It’s just … God does what’s best for us, and if we carve in stone our idea of how things should be, then it’s really painful when God’s will trumps ours. Isn’t it better to recognize that we can’t see how or why God orchestrates things the way He does? That His plans have a greater purpose?”

  Amelia clenched her jaw and focused on her sushi in silence. Why couldn’t Jill just support her, or at least play along?

  The noise of the restaurant filled the space between them as they ate their dinners in silence. When it started to get awkward, Jill was the first to speak. “I’m sorry, Amelia, I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

  Amelia chased a grain of rice with her chopsticks. “Not really, no.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Ames, but I guess … I just worry sometimes that your faith is still so … young. I mean it wasn’t that long ago that we were at Juilliard and you were committing your life to the Lord, and campus ministry isn’t exactly the ‘real world.’ Living as a Christian is complicated.”

  Amelia felt the weight of those words. “I know … But I feel like it’s harder for me than it should be. It certainly seems harder for me than it does for you, or Dane, or Marcus. Especially Marcus. I never hear God like you guys do, or feel Him. And when Marcus gets all preacher on me and launches into some theology lesson out of nowhere, it just annoys me. I mean, if I wanted to be a theologian, I’d have gone to seminary, right? But then I feel guilty, because if I’m a Christian, shouldn’t I want to know that stuff?”

  “Well …” Jill ducked her head, trying to look Amelia in the eyes. “I can’t tell you if you are or aren’t a Christian, Ames. That’s between you and God. What does your gut tell you?”

  This turn in the conversation was making Amelia uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you think you are a Christian?”

  Amelia answered quickly. “Of course I am.”

  “I’m not trying to say you’re not,” Jill said. “I just—”

  “But if you didn’t question it, you wouldn’t be asking. Right?” When Jill’s words seemed to get stuck in her throat, Amelia felt her face flush as the heat rose in her cheeks. She could feel herself overreacting, but she couldn’t help it. “You never struck me as the judgmental type, Jill.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Never mind.” Amelia pulled her wallet from her purse and opened it. “Dinner’s on me. Enjoy.” She threw down a twenty and shoved the wallet back into her purse, then slid off the stool and headed for the street.

  How dare Jill accuse her of not being a Christian. Didn’t Jesus tell people not to judge? Jill had been the first Christian Amelia had ever known when they met as roommates their first year at Juilliard, and Amelia had been surprised at how cool she was in spite of it. Apparently Jill had been a lot more accepting of people’s differing views on spirituality back then.

  Her bus was just pulling up to the corner. She hopped on and slouched into a seat just in time to see Jill power walking up the sidewalk. Amelia almost got off the bus, but then turned her back to the window and pulled her iPod from her pocket. She scrolled to Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark and lost herself in the music as the bus bounced over potholes and tears burned in her eyes.

  The last thing she’d expected tonight was to have her friendship with Jill upended. But how could she be vulnerable with Jill anymore, knowing her friend’s assessment of her? Maybe she’d make some new friends in the theater group. Maybe they would accept her, flaws and all.

  The 757 hit a pocket of turbulence, jarring Marcus from his thoughts and sending him fumbling to keep his plastic cup of Coke upright. His neighbor in the center seat flashed him a nervous smile and gripped his bag of pretzels tighter. “Reason 243 why I hate flying.”

  Marcus laughed politely. “That’s a shame. I don’t mind it, though I don’t fly often.”

  “You’re lucky. I have to do it all the time.”

  “For work?”

  “Yeah. Salesman. How ’bout you?”

  “What, my job?” Marcus chuckled. “Right now it’s anything that pays the bills. But I just did an interview about an hour outside Omaha for a job, and I think it went well.”

  Really well, actually, even considering the bad weather. Before the plane had dipped, he’d been lost in daydreams about preaching his first sermon from the church’s intricately carved oak podium, Amelia and his parents beaming with pride in the front pew.

  “That’s great. What’s the job?”

  “Senior pastor.”

  The man’s face registered surprise. “Impressive.”

  “Thanks.” He couldn’t help smiling. “I’m pretty excited.”

  The man glanced down at Marcus’s hand. “Married? What’s your wife do?”

  “She’s a pianist.” His good mood faltered. “And she’s not quite as excited as I am about Nebraska.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.”

  The man’s head bobbed in a slow nod. “My wife’s not crazy about my job, either. Takes me away from home too much. But in this economy you do what you can, right?”

  Marcus agreed and shifted his gaze to the window, where the Rocky Mountains stretched below them in snowcapped splendor. The man was right. In this economy, you took what you could get. Even better when what you could get was your dream job. Another reason why Amelia really should just accept that this was a good thing—no, a God thing.

  And it certainly wasn’t the only reason. There was the way he’d clicked with the elders, despite the disparity between his age and theirs, which averaged around sixty. The way he’d taken to quaint Wheatridge, which made him think of It’s a Wonderful Life’s Bedford Falls. The way his heart had raced when they’d laid out the challenge the job would set before him—being not only a pastor but a spiritual doctor, helping the congregation heal from a decade under a toxic pastor. When Ed Donovan had given Marcus a tour of the church, they’d stopped for a moment in the pastor’s off
ice, and Marcus had easily imagined himself sitting at the mahogany desk in conference with a parishioner. The whole feel of the place suited him perfectly. He never would have expected it, given the pull he’d felt to the trendier young churches that met in movie theaters and industrial parks and nightclubs in downtown LA. But his attraction to the small, traditional church had been surprising, and undeniable.

  And when Ed had offered him the job as they drove to the airport that afternoon, Marcus had almost accepted it then and there. In fact, had Ed not followed the offer with “We know you need to talk it over with Amelia first,” he probably would have.

  And now he really knew: He should never have made that promise to Amelia.

  The plane touched down at LAX, and Marcus and his neighbor wished each other well as they parted ways in the terminal. Having only his carry-on, Marcus skipped baggage claim and headed straight for the exit, where his eyes scanned the shifting crowd for Amelia’s face. It was the kind of thing she’d typically do: show up to welcome him home, even though they’d already made plans to meet up at their small group’s Sunday night community dinner at Jill and Dane’s. But after a few minutes spent swiveling in place as he searched in vain, he headed for the ground transportation exit to take the light rail, alone.

  It was a calculated move, and he knew it. Were he returning from any other trip she’d have been there; that’s just how she was. It hurt to know that she was still closed off to this whole thing. He took a seat in the nearest Metro car and thought over the things he’d brought back for her. He’d meant for them to be fun and enticing, to help her see that moving to Nebraska wouldn’t be the end of the world. But the locally grown popcorn, the mug from the Omaha Performing Arts Theater, a schedule of its upcoming season, and the “I’m kind of a big deal in Nebraska” T-shirt he’d seen at the airport no longer struck him as amusing souvenirs.

  He stared out the window as the city came into view. It’s clear to me what You’re doing, God, he prayed as his eyes took in the smoggy sky and shining buildings—such a contrast from the cold, snowy, and overcast weekend he’d spent in the very flat town of Wheatridge. But if You’re making it clear to me, why aren’t You making it clear to Amelia? I’m supposed to take this job, aren’t I? I don’t want to go back on my word. I know I shouldn’t have promised not to go if she didn’t want to, but I really thought You’d change her mind.

  Though maybe He still would. He shouldn’t despair yet. God was known for His eleventh-hour saves.

  The Metro pulled into his station, and Marcus filed off with a few others and headed for the street. He had to remember this wasn’t over yet. Who knew what Amelia’s response might be when he told her he’d been officially offered the job? God could make anything happen.

  He just hoped God would work His miracle soon.

  Amelia’s eyes kept drifting to the clock on Jill’s kitchen wall. She’d been so close to going to LAX and meeting Marcus in baggage claim, but when the time had come to leave she hadn’t been able to do it. It was the thought of the ride back into the city that had stopped her. All that time to talk—for him to talk, to gush about Wheatridge (as she was sure he would, given how excited he’d been about the place when they’d talked on the phone the last two nights), to try to convince her to move. She couldn’t handle it, not in public. Instead, she’d made up the dip she’d signed up to bring to dinner and had gone to Jill’s fifteen minutes late to make sure she wasn’t the first one there. They hadn’t spoken since their conversation that had gone south at the sushi bar, and Amelia had enough on her mind without adding to it by being alone with Jill.

  But she’d kept track of where Marcus likely was, knowing he’d eventually show up, and she had to be prepared. Right now he was probably ten minutes out, maybe less. She couldn’t wait to see him and yet feared it at the same time. She wondered if she’d be able to read his face and know before he even spoke if he’d been offered the job. And what if she did see it written there? What would she do?

  Amelia was helping someone rearrange the potluck spread on the table when a voice behind her said, “Hey, Marcus!” She caught Jill’s eye briefly, and her friend gave her a supportive half smile before Amelia turned to see Marcus. And when she saw his face she knew. It was the eyes that gave it away. The rest of his face looked tired, even uncertain. But his eyes were shining.

  He spotted her immediately and dropped his duffel by the front door and crossed the room to wrap her in a hug and whisper “Hey, babe” in her ear. She’d have melted if she hadn’t seen that look in his eyes.

  She let him give her a quick kiss, not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone else. “I missed you,” he said when he pulled away.

  “I missed you, too.” It was true, 100 percent. She had missed him terribly, even if she’d been irritated that he’d gone away in the first place. “How was the flight?”

  “Oh—fine.”

  “Great.” She nodded to the dining room table, where the others had already begun to serve themselves. “Come get some dinner. ”

  That’s what she’d do: Keep the conversation on the periphery, and avoid a discussion about the trip until they went home. At least that way no one would see them fight. And, sadly, she was pretty sure there would be a fight.

  Her plan to keep things on the surface worked perfectly until someone asked Marcus why he had the duffel. “Just got back from Nebraska,” he said.

  “Nebraska? What the heck is out there?” someone else asked.

  “Job interview.”

  Amelia eyed Marcus carefully. She could tell he was trying to keep his excitement at bay, probably for the same reason she’d tried to steer clear of the topic. He didn’t want a public argument any more than she did.

  A smattering of “Congrats” and “What for?” rained down on him, and as the discussion progressed, Amelia found her spirits buoying. Marcus didn’t mention anything about a job offer. Thank You, she prayed as she twirled spaghetti on a plastic fork. God had come through. Who said she wasn’t a Christian?

  The dinner came to an end and guests began to leave. Amelia packed up the leftovers of her dip before everyone else had gone and they were the only couple left; she didn’t want Jill or Dane to have the chance to ask Marcus how the interview had been. After their usual “See you later,” they walked out together and headed for home. “That was fun,” Amelia said as she hooked an arm through Marcus’s, trying to keep the conversation light until they were safe in the apartment. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yeah.”

  She elbowed him. “That wasn’t particularly enthusiastic.”

  He gave her a smile. “Sorry, just … thinking.”

  “About …?” She caught him staring at her after a silent moment. “What?”

  “You haven’t asked me at all about the trip.”

  Why was she suddenly nervous? “We talked both nights you were gone, it’s not like I didn’t get to hear about it.”

  “I know, but … Come on, Amelia, I know you’re avoiding the whole thing. That’s not going to make it go away, you know.”

  She smirked, though her heart was starting to pound. “No, you’re right, I can’t make an entire state disappear with the power of my mind. At least not one so big. I’ll work on Rhode Island first.”

  He wasn’t laughing. “It really hurts that you don’t care at all about something that I care so much about.”

  “I just don’t want to get into it here, in public.”

  “Get into what? You make it sound like we’re going to have a knock-down drag-out.”

  “Fine.” She dropped her hand from his arm. “It hurts me, too, that you don’t care at all about the thing I care about so much,” she said, eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of them.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Maybe you don’t care about my career like I once thought you did.”

  “How could you possibly say that?”

  “If you did, you wouldn’t have even taken that in
terview.”

  He muttered something under his breath. “Amelia, we’ve gone over this already.”

  “I know, I know—God told you to go.”

  “You say that as if you’re mocking me.”

  “I’m not mocking you. I’m trying to explain that you’ve played the ultimate trump card. But it’s not fair. What about the fact that I believe God gave me the theater troupe gig? You’re being selfish, and you’re using God to support it.”

  Marcus went quiet. Amelia gripped the Tupperware tighter as her heart sank. She had hurt him. She hadn’t meant to do that. But it was as if he wasn’t hearing her at all. She didn’t want to wound him, but she didn’t want to get walked all over, either. She didn’t know where the balance was between sticking up for herself and not being harsh when her words didn’t seem to get through.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as their apartment building came into sight. Marcus said nothing, and she felt her palms begin to sweat. Great, now she was getting the silent treatment. “Really,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m not being very nice. But … from what I gathered at dinner, it doesn’t matter … right? Maybe this week we can start looking for new job postings and––”

  “Amelia.” He reached out to take hold of her arm, stopping her on the sidewalk. “I got the job.”

  She was dumbfounded. She shut her mouth when she realized it was open, then shook her head, disbelieving. “They—they actually offered it to you?”

  His jaw slid back and forth just slightly. “Yes,” he said, irritation tinting his tone. “They actually offered it to me.”

  “And of course you told them no.”

  “No, I didn’t. I told them I’d talk to you, and we’d pray about it and get back to them by mid-January.”

  A terse laugh escaped her throat. “But we’re not going. You promised.”

  “I didn’t promise we weren’t going. I promised we wouldn’t go if you didn’t want to.”

  “And I don’t, so case closed.”

  “No—we haven’t prayed about it. You haven’t prayed about it.”