Feta and Freeways

by Baganz, Susan M. ;

  Tia prepared a press release to go out Monday, once a photograph was available, to inform fans about the marital status change of the smoking hot lead singer. Some might call it marketing, as it did mention the upcoming tour. She called it protecting her marriage.

  Pastor Dan helped them write their simple vows and spoke beautiful words of encouragement in his message, which Tia failed to focus on. Niko had her undivided attention. Holding her hand. Gazing at her with those dark eyes. Smiling so wide his two dimples appeared as well as his teeth.

  His mother wept from the front row, and the band played a song Niko had written for the day. He stood before her to sing it while Johnny finger-picked on the guitar.

  On this day of days, I hope to never forget

  The way you look and smell

  The future holds hard promises kept

  Struggle and tears, but time will tell

  Did I…

  Love you well

  Protect your heart,

  Lead with love

  Tenderness impart

  Was your

  Soul at peace

  Treasured and adored

  Did your body sense through me

  The presence of the Lord?

  A human man, I’ll fail you at times

  A human woman, you’ll fail me too

  Forgiveness and love and some grace to boot

  Will help us muddle through

  Lord, I cannot do this on my own

  Treasure this woman You call yours

  A gift from You, help me never forget

  And love her as You do

  So the world will know Your glory

  As my bride shines from love

  You alone can write our story.

  Tia wept and was grateful they already took the majority of photos. Niko shed a tear as well, and even Pastor Dan seemed choked up.

  When the pastor said “You may kiss your bride,” Tia lifted her face up to her husband’s. My husband! And gave her heart in that kiss.

  They strode down the aisle to fanfare from the small group gathered, and they celebrated with a simple meal in the café at the church.

  Tia hoped she’d remember all of this as she mingled with her new family. For once, she belonged.

  * * *

  Niko whisked his bride away to the honeymoon suite he’d reserved. Tomorrow they would drive the four and a half hours to Door County, a resort area in the northeast peninsula, to spend a few days resting before coming back to prepare for the tour.

  He carried his wife into their room, set her down, closed the door, and flipped the lock.

  She moved slowly to the king-size bed, pulling off her veil. The eager bridegroom needed to rein in his impulses. He walked up to her and traced a finger down her arm. “You okay?”

  “We really did it, didn’t we? We’re married.”

  “Yes we are, Mrs. Acton.” He grabbed her hands and brought her to the edge of the bed, tossing the headpiece to a chair and missing. They sat. “Listen. We take this as fast or slow as you’re comfortable with.”

  She reached up, loosened his tie, and pulled it over his head. She started to unbutton his shirt. “I get complete control?”

  Niko growled. She giggled, and he plundered her mouth with a kiss she eagerly returned. She led him to more delight than he’d ever dreamed of.

  * * *

  Later as they snuggled in bed, he thanked God for a good start to their marriage.

  A few hours later, she tensed and pushed against him. He sang softly to her, and she relaxed but rolled away from him. He missed her warmth and softness.

  Patience. Healing can take time. He rolled over and drifted to sleep on a damp pillow.

  * * *

  His bride tickled him awake in the morning. “Why are you way over here?”

  “You needed space during the night.”

  She frowned as she stopped. “Did I hurt you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did you sing to me?”

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t hurt your body, but I hurt your heart, didn’t I? I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

  “How will you do that?”

  “I thought I would order coffee first…”

  He flipped her over and kissed her deeply.

  They got on the road later than anticipated.

  * * *

  Days in Door County were relaxed and fun. Tia and Niko held hands. They laughed and explored the popular tourist area. They enjoyed a fish boil, watched sunsets on the Bay, and hiked short distances. Nights, however, continued to be mixed. Tia ran hot and cold. They would start out with all the passion he could have ever have hoped for in his bride, but at some point every night, in her sleep, she would experience her nightmares and push him away. He struggled with how best to love his wife and not take the distance personally. When she realized what happened, she always apologized, but it wore at him.

  In the middle of the third night away, after she struggled out of his arms crying, he left the bed, took out his guitar, and played. Chords and notes, melodies he knew and some he didn’t. No words. A prayer of sound as tears dampened the wood. He shook his head as he thought to himself. People assumed men were strong. Singers were great poets and lovers. But he lacked the power to heal his wife’s deepest wounds, and the attack from six weeks ago punched him in the gut with brutal ferocity.

  He wanted to retaliate. But didn’t that make him just like the attacker? Except he would never kill or touch a woman in anger. Was the man even repentant? Did he regret now his actions based on his girlfriend’s lies?

  In another month, they’d be back on the road. There was no way to hide this struggle from his bandmates. Shame washed over him, as if her rejection was his failure. Lord, how do we navigate this for the next night, week, month, and fifty years should you give them to us?

  Did he pursue her too much? Did he need to pull back and let her take the lead more? He desired her and longed to make her feel special. Treasured. Loved. Was he doing too much? Had he pressured her into loving him even when she didn’t? He sat his guitar down and reclined on the couch, shivering but too tired to go grab a blanket or inconvenience his wife by his presence in bed. Sorrow and grief drove their roots deep in his heart.

  * * *

  Tia awoke sprawled in the bed. Her fingers reached out for the warmth of Niko’s body, but she only found cold emptiness. She groaned. Had she pushed him away again? She rose to sit and spied him across the room on the couch in his pajama bottoms. He barely fit there. It couldn’t have been comfortable, and he was probably cold. His guitar was out. Had he played to soothe her—or himself? She made coffee and pulled out the croissants she purchased yesterday while they were out on the town. She draped a blanket across his body and went to shower and prepare for the day.

  She hummed in the shower and started singing the song he wrote in the car when they were coming home.

  They say love hurts, but loneliness is the deeper pain

  Emptiness clogs my heart and pushes my tears

  Where do I go when there’s nothing left to gain?

  But on my knees to my God with all my hopes and fears.

  I never knew it was you I wanted till I almost lost you

  How could I understand the depth of my need?

  Tortured soul, but I want you to want me too

  Where can I go, how do I germinate that seed?

  You. It’s always you. In my life and in my heart

  The ache for you eats at my sinew and bones

  When will you give me the go ahead to start

  To prove to you the depth that my love knows?

  She turned off the shower and dressed. This was their last day in Door County before heading back home to real life. She wished their honeymoon had been happier for him. She, of course, had no recollection of what happened in her nightmares. Her screams and heartache expressed when in the throes of that terror had nothing to do with Niko and her love for him. He might underst
and that, but it didn’t ease the sting of rejection. Shouldn’t love be able to erase the pain? It was definitely what they had both hoped for but had been cautioned against expecting.

  She came out of the bathroom with a towel fluffing her curls to see his dark, red-rimmed eyes focused on her.

  “Hey, sweetheart. I did it again? I’m sorry.” She came over to him, kneeled by his head, and placed a kiss on his lips he did not return. She rested her hand on his whiskered chin. She loved his whiskers and had asked him not to shave on this trip. He’d humored her.

  “You can sing?”

  “No. Why would you say such a thing?” She sat back on her heels.

  “I heard you. In the shower.”

  “Doesn’t everyone sing in the shower? Doesn’t mean I can sing.”

  He pushed himself up on one elbow, the blanket slipping down to his waist and exposing his muscular chest and arms. Her mouth watered, and she wiggled her eyebrows at him. One hand reached out to touch him, but he pushed it away.

  “Don’t change the subject. You sing. How was I unaware of your beautiful voice?”

  She rose to her feet and backed up to sit on the bed. “No. A thousand times no. You and Johnny can teach me guitar. That’s fine for something fun to do as we travel. But I’m not singing with you guys. I’m not an up-front person. I’m behind the scenes. Invisible. I’m not a member of the band.”

  He frowned but said no more. He stood, grabbed his clothes, and went to shower as she sat. Alone.

  Had she rejected him again? Was that all she ever did? She sang in the choir in high school and college but was never good enough for any ensembles. As a teenager, she contented herself with singing to her hairbrush in the mirror of her bedroom as her favorite songs would play. She knew now firsthand the hardships of life on the road. She shook her head. She was in for the long haul, singer or not. But she avoided facing the crowds and seeing their looks of disappointment if a song didn’t come off well. The guys no longer had to deal with that, but in the earlier days they contended with jeers or stark indifference until they had sung and performed their hearts out to win over the roughest critic.

  She’d get enough rejections and negative reviews when her book came out. But those weren’t in her face and directed to her personally. Live performances, however, were different. The men tried to have a thick skin, and they supported and encouraged each other, but sometimes the reviews hurt, because the songs came from deep within them. Rejecting a song was like stabbing the artist. Maybe it wasn’t so different after all.

  She put on a little makeup and her walking shoes. She was developing shin splints from all their sightseeing. Today, they planned to relax and visit some of the little shops before heading home. She hoped she could get Niko out of his dark mood. It had been easier to do in the past when she was not the cause of it.

  He emerged dressed, his curls wet. They sat at a small table with their coffee and baked goods, and he opened up the Bible and read to her. Pastor Dan encouraged them to spend time studying the Song of Solomon together. She loved hearing Niko’s voice reading the poetry to her as today he read from chapter two verses 10 to 14.

  My beloved speaks and says to me,

  ‘Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.

  for behold, the winter is past,

  the rain is over and gone.

  The flowers appear on the earth,

  the time of singing has come,

  and the voice of the turtledove is in our land.

  The fig tree ripens its figs,

  and the vines are in blossom,

  they give forth fragrance.

  Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.

  O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,

  in the crannies of the cliff,

  let me hear your voice,

  for your voice is sweet,

  and your face is lovely.’

  He sipped his coffee and stared at the text. There were tears in his eyes.

  “Niko?”

  He studied her but didn’t smile. “You understand that I think you’re beautiful, don’t you? That everything in me desires to understand and love you, body and soul?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “Good. I can’t help but feel like a failure.”

  “Pastor Dan cautioned us…”

  “Yeah, I prayed and hoped but idealistically thought my love would make it easier, and instead, it makes it more difficult.”

  “Explain?”

  “If I loved you less, the rejection wouldn’t hurt so much.”

  “I don’t choose to treat you this way. It’s a side effect of the trauma. I wish it didn’t exist between us.” She reached out to touch his beard, and he leaned his face into the palm of her hand.

  “You and me both. I think I need to stop initiating anything. Perhaps if you had total control…”

  “I like you reaching for me, kissing me, grabbing my hand…”

  He gave a half smile. “I like doing it. But if you control our physical relationship, maybe…”

  “But it scares you to hold back.”

  He nodded.

  “Your love oozes out of you when you gaze at me. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at initiating things, but you need to remember even if I fail, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It might mean I’m afraid.”

  “I scare you?”

  “Sometimes the intensity in your eyes thrills and terrorizes me at the same time. You are a passionate man, Nikolos. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  “I can’t turn that off.”

  “I don’t want you to. My fear is I will desire you and you won’t reciprocate.”

  “I’m a man—trust me, saying no to your overtures would be difficult for me to do.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. She moved her hand and rose to stand behind him. She ran her fingers through the damp curls on his head, and he leaned back and moaned. She reached down from behind to give him a hug and whispered in his ear.

  “How about now? We don’t need to be anywhere by any particular time, and I’m hungry for more than a croissant.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “We should be reading the Bible at bedtime when we hit the road. I’m not sure how well the guys would appreciate me hijacking you every morning.”

  Niko laughed until she cut it off with her kiss.

  They didn’t leave the hotel until noon.

  * * *

  They enjoyed the relaxed afternoon. Every time Tia reached for his hand or wrapped her arms around his waist, he knew her love. She’d glance up at him and demand he kiss her. He had no trouble obliging. If they kept talking about this, he might be able to live with some modicum of sanity being so close and not pursuing her.

  He was a man, though. Pursuit was hard-wired into him. His heart longed to make the overtures. He didn’t mind being the recipient but wondered how it would be perceived when they were on the road. So many unanswered questions. No easy answers.

  They returned to Milwaukee and their cozy apartment. Every night was bliss and torture. He began to accept this was the way it would be, and the hope he could hold his wife throughout the night died a slow and agonizing death. Alone was alone, even when someone he longed for slept inches away from him.

  They fell into a routine of devotions together in the morning over coffee and a light breakfast before he headed out to Johnny’s basement to work with the band on material for the tour. He was challenged with how to mix old songs with new and link them together well. Tia stayed home working on the tour venues, lining up radio interviews and television spots and press releases. They netted a small photo and article about their marriage and the upcoming tour in Christianity Today, World Magazine, and Contemporary Christian Music Magazine among others. It had been years since their first big hit and Dove award. Tia was making sure those memories were fresh in the eyes of music fans.

  Tia had been around even then, in the background working with t
heir manager at the time, but the man was more bluster than substance, and it had always been her who had made things happen for them. Niko’d never even noticed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

  William Shakespeare

  Tia kissed Niko goodbye as he headed out to practice. She sat down to work on her next book and iron out gaps in the upcoming tour. She didn’t want to have too many unexpected snafus occur, but she knew they would.

  When Niko returned home that evening, she had a simple meal prepared for them.

  “Chinese takeout tonight?” He asked as he sat down and grabbed her hand to pray over the meal.

  After the prayer, Tia frowned. “I’m not much of a cook. I probably should have warned you before the wedding.”

  “It’s fine, Tia. We’ll figure it out. For the next few months, we’ll be on the road. Cooking isn’t a skill you’ll be called on to use once we leave.”

  “I know, but a good wife should be able to make a nice home-cooked meal for her husband.”

  “Tia?”

  “Hmmmm?”

  “I love you anyway.” He shoveled in more chicken Chow Mein and winked at her.

  “Thanks”

  When he finished, he opened up his fortune cookie. “Doors will open. Be careful which one you walk through.”

  “Interesting. Wonder what that could mean?” Tia asked.

  “Possibly that I’ll have choices to make and need to be discerning and careful. Just because a door is open doesn’t mean it’s the right one to walk through.”

  Tia nodded. “Mine says, ‘Pursue love and friendship, but leave the past behind.’”

  Niko leaned back in his chair. “Wow. What kind of past do you need to leave behind?”

  “Just the typical childhood disappointments.”

  “Really? I’m sorry, Tia. I don’t see that as typical. I had a great childhood. Wonderful supportive parents and even pretty tolerable high school years.”

  “Let me guess. You played football and also sang in the school musicals, and your garage band started making music and was immediately successful.”

  He twisted his mouth this way and that. “Well…pretty much.”

  “And you had your pick of the ladies wherever you went.”