Unbreakable Hope

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “Mom, Darin and I get together now on Sunday evenings, and I didn’t know you were coming,” Emily said. “Besides, he’s paying so I know Dad wants him along.”

  Mr. Jensen put his arm around Emily. “That’s my little girl. Always watching out for her daddy’s pocketbook.”

  The three of them laughed, but Mrs. Jensen remained stoic. Darin’s heart plunged at the sight of her. The woman had forfeited her son, what else would she lose in her unhappiness? He vowed then and there to pray for her every day.

  Darin hesitated about going to dinner with the family. It was clear Mrs. Jensen didn’t want him to attend, but he thought if he gave into the woman now, he’d never be able to stand up to her. He wanted to respect her, but he also needed to protect Emily. That was his priority. She wanted him to come, and that was all that mattered to him at the moment. Chances were he would never win over Mrs. Jensen.

  “Are we ready?” Mr. Jensen asked, a bright smile on his face.

  “We are. I know a great place.”

  Emily’s face contorted, and he stifled a laugh. “Don’t worry, Emily, it’s not my breakfast hole in the wall.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I can be classy too.”

  Visible relief washed over her expression, and he delighted in her joy.

  The odd foursome made their way out the door with Mrs. Jensen following behind. One thing Darin knew without question: Emily and her father would pay for their betrayal.

  “Mrs. Jensen, is there something you feel like eating for dinner? I have a great restaurant in mind, but it’s a steak place. Do you like steak?”

  She kept her lips pursed, the angry wrinkles showing themselves easily.

  “Steak would be great, don’t you think, Dad?” Emily said.

  “Any man that would buy me a steak is a good man. Earring and all.” Mr. Jensen winked at his daughter.

  While her expression spoke volumes, Mrs. Jensen remained quiet.

  ❧

  Sundance Steakhouse’s neon lights lit up the afternoon sky. The bright blue and white western sky matched Darin’s mood—joyous and filled with hope. They were seated right away, and Mrs. Jensen plopped down next to Emily, hoping to discourage him.

  “What did you do before you retired, Mr. Jensen?” he asked.

  “I sold insurance. I loved it, but it’s not the same business nowadays. A man would rather buy a big-screen TV and DVD player than see to his family’s long-term care. In my day, a man provided for his family.”

  “I don’t own a TV,” Darin said. “Nothing worth watching I’m afraid.”

  “Not even football?”

  “I’d rather be out playing. The guys and I can get a pick-up basketball game any day of the week. I want to do that while I’m young enough to enjoy it.”

  “You should take up golf. You can do that forever.”

  “I’m afraid golf is out of my price range,” Darin laughed, but Mrs. Jensen coughed. He supposed he couldn’t blame the woman. Who wanted a son-in-law who relied upon God to see to financial needs? One who risked losing his job every time he took a morning off to speak on drunk driving. He wished he could express how much he felt God’s call to marry Emily. It was odd: There were so many chasms separating them, the least of which was their difference in education and backgrounds, but Darin was willing to fight for her. Mrs. Jensen may have set her jaw against him, but she had no idea the sheer amount of prayer power she was up against.

  “I’m still a member of the club here. Let me take you out sometime this week,” Mr. Jensen said.

  “Mel, I don’t think a beginner on the course is exactly what they expect at the country club.”

  “Who cares what they expect? I’ve kept up my membership. I can bring anyone I care to. I just want to see if the boy likes the game.”

  “He just told you he can’t afford to play it, so what does it matter?”

  “Nancy, stay out of it,” Mr. Jensen warned.

  “What are you having, Mom?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “So a salad, then?”

  “Mel, I want to go home.” It was a challenge, not a request, and Mr. Jensen squared his shoulders.

  “Well, we’re having dinner with our daughter.” He turned back toward Darin. “So you think you can get a morning off this week?”

  “Sure I can,” Darin replied happily. “Who knows? Maybe I’m the next Tiger Woods. Mrs. Jensen, do you play?”

  Again, rather than answer, Emily’s mother just threw him a glance, as though he were a mere buzzing noise.

  Emily excused herself to wash her hands, and Mr. Jensen decided to follow her lead. Mrs. Jensen looked like a hawk going in for the kill. She was obviously anxious to speak to him alone, and he shifted in his seat waiting for the on-slaught. Sure enough, as soon as father and daughter were out of sight, Mrs. Jensen spoke.

  “It’s very charming that you find my daughter so attractive. But she’s not for you. She’s been a good girl her whole life, and she deserves a man who’s done the same for himself. I don’t mean to be rude, but she’s better than the likes of you. Do you understand that?”

  “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Mrs. Jensen, but Emily’s husband is God’s choice. Not yours. I believe I’m that man and hope that someday Emily and you will see things that way as well.”

  “Over my dead body, you are.”

  Darin sat back in his chair. That statement made things abundantly clear. Lord, make me sure of this. Because I feel certain Emily is who you have for my wife, and from the sound of things, it’s going to be an uphill battle.

  Fourteen

  Emily changed the sheets on her bed so her parents could sleep comfortably in her room. She had already made up the sofa for herself. Her mother hovered, leaning against the doorjamb in the bedroom. Emily tried to ignore the piercing eyes and especially avoid the subject of Darin. Everything was happening so fast. He’d said he was in love with her. In love with her! They barely knew one another, and yet she couldn’t help but think the feelings were reciprocal.

  “You need to tuck the corners,” her mother chided.

  “Sorry, Mom, I forgot you liked it that way. I don’t like to be stuck under the sheets at night. I feel like I’m in a straightjacket.” Emily tucked the sheets, making the corners so tight a Marine would be proud.

  “You should do it for yourself. Someday a husband won’t want to get into a sloppily made bed like that.”

  “With the right lingerie I imagine he would.”

  “Emily Jensen, what a foul mouth!”

  Emily bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was just making a joke.”

  “Are you sleeping with that man?”

  “Absolutely not! Mother, it was a joke. I just don’t think most people care about a perfectly made bed like you do. Kyle never did.” She stopped breathing. Had she really mentioned her long-lost brother’s name? His name had been forbidden for years, but she suddenly felt empowered, and she searched her mother’s face for a reaction.

  Mrs. Jensen gasped and fell back onto the bed, her hand over her heart. “Where did we go wrong, Emily?”

  “Oh, Mother, spare me the dramatics. I’ve seen that act before. It’s amazing you never do it where a sofa or bed isn’t there to catch you.”

  “We’ve told you not to mention your brother. He was dead to us when he joined that cult.”

  “He did not join a cult, Mother. He went into the mission field. You’re the one who told him not to contact you if he made the choice. You left Kyle no options, and he was just doing what he was supposed to do.”

  “Kyle disrespected his parents’ wishes. The Bible says to honor your mother and father.”

  “That doesn’t mean doing whatever they say as an adult, Mom. Kyle was listening to a call from God. He wanted to share the Word with the people of the South American jungles. The Great Commission, Mother. Leave and cleave and all that.”

  “We supported plenty of missionaries in our day. There was no reason for a b
oy with his education and skills to go jaunting off into a third-world country. It’s the same with that boy of yours. He could get himself an education and find a nice job, but he’d rather be traipsing about in the ghetto, talking to kids who don’t listen to him. Dodging bullets all the while. Not getting a real job. You think I’m cruel, Emily.” Her mother got up from the bed and helped finish with the bedspread. “But you mark my words, you were created for better than this. You’ll be miserable if you marry that gardener.”

  Emily lowered herself slowly onto the bed. A revelation of sorts fell upon her. “Mother, are you happy?” The truth was she had never met a more miserable person than her mother. “Are you?”

  “Of course I am. I’m very well-respected in the church. When I told Pastor something, he always listened. I have the gift of administration. You’d be wise to listen to me on matters of the heart such as this. It’s not just an emotional decision. You must live with the consequences for the rest of your life.”

  “You never gave Kyle a choice in his consequences.” Emily focused on a painting above her bed. “Will you give me one?” The phone rang. “I’m going to get that. Dad’s watching the news. He’ll be in later. Sleep tight, Mother.”

  “Tell your father not to keep you up too late. You’ve got work tomorrow.” The phone continued to ring. “Who is calling you so late?”

  Emily grabbed the portable phone. “I’m about to find out. Goodnight, Mother.” Running from the room, she picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” Darin’s smooth baritone answered.

  She felt a blush rise into her cheeks. “Hi, yourself.” She shut herself in the utility room for some privacy. The blaring television set made it difficult to hear, but when she slid the door shut, quiet prevailed. “Did you survive dinner with my parents?”

  “I did, and I plan to invite myself over later in the week too. They’re staying until Saturday, you know.”

  Emily scrunched up her nose. “No, I didn’t hear that. Thanks for being the bearer of bad news. Rosencrantz and Gildenstern have a run for their money,” she quipped, referring to Hamlet’s messengers.

  “Am I supposed to understand that? I know the difference between a dahlia and a tulip, you know. That’s my area of expertise.” Darin laughed. “So, as I was saying, I’m coming over sometime this week.”

  “You might just have to eat my cooking then.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Depends on who you ask. It’s not a great thing, that’s for certain.” She giggled. What a strange sound to hear. She couldn’t remember the last time she really laughed, and her laughter was genuine, not a flirtatious act of cuteness, but real and heartfelt. “I make a mean pot roast and can boil up an excellent hot dog. If you’re looking for a soufflé, you might want to head elsewhere.”

  “Pot roast and hot dogs? Well, what else does one need? We can throw some cabbage in the water, and voilà, dinner! Better a meal of vegetables with love than a fattened calf with hatred.”

  “Like tonight’s steak dinner with my mother, you mean?’

  “Your mother just wants what’s best for you, Emily. You do deserve a man who can afford to golf if he wants. Your father was talking to me about the insurance business.”

  “Don’t you dare!” she exclaimed.

  Darin chuckled. “Don’t worry, I could barely even get car insurance to drive with my history. Selling life insurance seems unwarranted to me at this point. I prefer the only kind of insurance that pays in full in every circumstance: the gospel.”

  “Promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If our relationship goes anywhere, we won’t live within one hundred miles of my mother.” Emily said it jokingly, but in her heart she meant every word.

  “But your dad was just telling me the house next to them is for sale.”

  “You are not funny.” She slid down the wall onto the floor of the utility room and sighed dreamily. “I miss you already.”

  “Right back atcha, Babe. I have an idea,” Darin said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s introduce our mothers to one another and see who does a better job of thwarting this relationship faster. Mine or yours.”

  “I think there’s little question in that. Are you really going golfing with my father?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “This, from the same man who used to bungee jump? You’re going to play a sport where the biggest excitement is a sand wedge shot?”

  “Hey, I’m looking forward to wearing some plaid pants and white shoes. Jack Nicklaus is my hero.”

  “Tiger Woods wears Nike now. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I’ve met this incredible woman, and I will do whatever I have to. I want her father to know that I will care for his daughter, and my history is just that—my history.”

  “I don’t think it’s my father you have to convince. I think it’s our mothers.”

  “So you agree that there’s something more here than just friendship.”

  Emily paused. “I do.”

  “Now those are words I’m longing to hear. I know I’m coming on fast and furious. I don’t mean to scare you, but—”

  “Are you still planning to live in East Palo Alto? The former murder capital of the United States?”

  “Now come on, that’s not fair. EPA has a very small population, and it was a per capita figure. It’s not a murder capital anymore.”

  “That makes all the difference in the world to me, Darin.”

  “Emily, dive in. The water’s great. There are so many real dangers. Why worry about the fake ones?”

  Her heart fluttered. How she wanted to dive in, to just seize what she most desired. What she most desired was an outlandish missionary she’d met a mere week ago. But loving him meant giving up all the security she’d known. And suffering her mother’s wrath, not to mention his mother’s. Was she strong enough to take the risk?

  “Real and imagined dangers are a matter of perception.”

  “Need I remind you my head still throbs from being in your lovely Los Altos neighborhood?”

  “Touché.”

  “There you go speaking in a different language again. Gardener,” Darin said. “Please speak slowly. And in English.”

  “You think you are so funny, Darin Black. Did you not get into Cal Poly’s five-year architecture program?”

  “Long enough to drop out. Yes, Ma’am, that was me.”

  “But you know who Rosencrantz is. You did not pass Advanced English in high school without Shakespeare.”

  “I know who he is,” Darin admitted. “But would you like me if I didn’t?”

  “Maybe even more so,” Emily said. “So how’s Tuesday night for dinner here?”

  “Perfect. You’re sure you don’t want me to ask my parents?”

  “Quite sure. One mother is enough for any dinner party.”

  “On a more serious note, would you pray for Angel? I’m going to have Pastor call her, and I’ve vowed to stay away, but don’t write her off yet. God is speaking to her.”

  “Like God spoke to Grace? And my then-boyfriend married her? Like that?”

  “Absolutely nothing like that. Just pray she finds God before she finds her next boyfriend. It’s like a fix to her, having someone hanging on her arm.”

  Emily shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to have mercy on Angel, but hearing Darin talk so lovingly about the woman instilled a small seed of fear in her. She’d been in this position before. And it felt too close for comfort.

  “See you Tuesday.”

  “Uh-huh,” Emily answered absently. “See you then.” Against her better judgment, she prayed with fervor for Angel.

  Fifteen

  Darin splashed water on his face. Lonnie and some of the kids were over watching television, and the constant noise of the wrestling match was beginning to grate on him. It was after 11:00 p.m. and he yawned with exhaustion. With the fire last week at Lonni
e’s grandma’s house, and his own head injury, his calendar had been filled up with emergencies. His laundry stood piled high in the closet, and roommates Pete and Travis worked overtime to unpack Darin’s belongings while he selfishly went out to dinner with Emily’s parents.

  Moving to East Palo Alto became a full-time job in itself. The kids longed for stability and often hung out in the home all hours of the evening. Pete and Travis set hours, but enforcing them often fell to Darin, who was the only one awake late at night. Apparently, his roommates had learned to sleep through everything. Darin dried off his face and headed into the small living room with its secondhand furniture donated by the church.

  “Hey, guys, it’s time for us to hit the hay. I’m turning into a pumpkin now. Your grandmother’s light is still on, Sean,” Darin said while looking out the window.

  “Dawg, you need to live a little. Going to bed at eleven like my toddler cousin,” Lonnie joked.

  The three boys laughed, and Darin joined in their friendly banter.

  “Dawg, you need to turn in that homework you did tonight, and your slothful self isn’t going to want to leave your bed in the morning. Bedtime is being responsible, lounging until ten a.m., pathetic. Unless you’re planning to work in a nightclub for a living.”

  “Hmmm,” Sean said, as though thinking about it.

  Darin and his roommates had two rules in their ministry home. It was open nearly every night of the week, but closed, unless there was an emergency, at 11:00 p.m. And there was no entrance until homework was produced and finished. Most of the boys had become “A” students just by doing the work given to them at school. Success bred success, because now it had become a way of life thanks to Pete and Travis’s rules.

  “You just want to get to bed early because you have a girlfriend,” Sean said. The boys whistled. “Man, you ain’t never gonna get married.”

  “I’m not?” Darin crossed his arms, anxious to hear their reasoning.