A Kingsbury Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  It was wrong. It was wrong to be with him, a voice within her said. And dangerous.

  She pressed her lips together. If Mike had come with her this week, she would never have called Jake. And she certainly wouldn’t be wrestling with old feelings that should have died a long time ago.

  Mike. At the thought of him, Ellen had to fight off tears again. What had happened to them? Things had been so wonderful at the beginning. Their first date was a complete hit, and after that Mike had been full of surprises, like the time he took her to Canada for the day or out to dozens of wonderful restaurants. At their wedding Ellen remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she would love Mike Miller for the rest of her life.

  The trouble had started a few years later. They lived in Detroit at first, and Ellen was used to making the trek back and forth to Petoskey. Especially during summer.

  “Mike, my dad wants us to come up this weekend for a barbecue,” she remembered telling him one summer.

  “Sounds good.”

  The week passed, and when Friday arrived Ellen reminded him of their plans. “Are we leaving tonight or in the morning?”

  “Leaving?” He sounded clueless.

  “Yes. For Petoskey. Remember? My dad invited us up for a barbecue this weekend.”

  “Oh, that. Hey, hon, I don’t think I’ll go this time.”

  Ellen’s mouth had dropped open. “What?”

  “Sweetheart, I never really said I wanted to go.” Mike looked suddenly pained. “I said it sounded good.”

  “When someone says something sounds good, it’s typically safe to assume the answer is yes.”

  “Well, you go ahead and go. I have to research the games for next week.”

  “I won’t do that to my father. He’s expecting us and I want us there. You said you’d go.”

  “I did not. I said it sounded good.”

  “It’s the same thing, Mike. Besides, you can do your research in the car. I’ll drive.”

  Mike had exhaled dramatically. “All right, fine. I’ll go. But it would be nice if one of these days you could see things from my point of view. It takes four hours to get to Petoskey and it wastes the whole weekend.”

  While Ellen talked with her parents and caught up on the latest, Mike grabbed a magazine and found a quiet corner. In the end, Mike made the trip miserable by distancing himself from the others and arguing with Ellen until they were back home again. There were a dozen such incidents like that in the early years of their marriage.

  “Tell them I don’t want to go,” Mike would suggest.

  “You don’t understand, Mike. My dad really loves you. He thinks you like spending time with him. How do you think he’d feel if I called and told him you didn’t want to come for a visit? That you had better things to do and wanted me to make the trip by myself?”

  The worst part, Ellen thought now, was that whenever Mike did accompany her to Petoskey, he made sure she knew it was against his will. In doing so, he robbed her of the joy she might otherwise have felt about the trip. Mike had not pursued a relationship with her parents, and now that her father was dead Ellen was angry at him.

  At least Jake knew and loved my dad.

  She pushed the thought aside, feeling disloyal.

  There were other problems that developed between her and Mike once they moved to Miami. Birthdays, for instance. Year after year she looked forward to Mike’s birthday. She plotted and planned for a month until she had picked out the perfect gift. One year it was a surprise vacation to the Keys, another year it was tickets to Wisconsin so he could take in a Green Bay football game with his aging grandfather. She had created personalized wall hangings for his office and put his baby pictures together in a quilted scrapbook with his name embroidered on the front.

  She loved Mike and she wanted her gifts to be a reflection of that love.

  Mike’s approach couldn’t have been more different.

  He generally did his shopping a day or two before her birthday and was usually gone not more than an hour. One year he gave her a bright orange nylon dress that she wore exactly once before giving it to Goodwill. Another year he bought her a bulky beige purse with double straps that looked more suitable for her grandmother.

  But the worst birthday of all came four years ago. Ellen planned for them to spend the weekend at a hotel south of Miami. Friday night was wonderful with a walk along the beach and a shared bath later in their hotel room. Then, when her birthday dawned the next morning, Mike explained that he had not gotten her a gift.

  “Honey, I’ve been so busy lately. You know how it is.”

  Ellen did not know how it was. She stared at Mike and tried to understand. “Did you get me a card?”

  Ellen had always made it clear to Mike that in lieu of a present she would always be thankful for a handwritten card or letter. She was not interested in expensive baubles or costly floral bouquets. But a gift should be a reflection of love and to that end Mike was a dismal failure.

  That weekend, after the shock wore off, Mike tried to sound hopeful. “Hey, Ellen. I can go sit on the patio right now and write you a letter if you want.”

  “No. I don’t want a letter now that my birthday is already here. It’s too late.”

  “Don’t be mad. I meant to get you something. It’s just that the days got away from me.”

  “Mike, it’s very simple. May is followed by June, which in turn is followed by July. There is nothing random about the way we arrive at a given date. I don’t understand how the days can ‘get away’ from you if you really love me.”

  “Ellen, don’t make this an issue, darling. Of course I love you. Gifts don’t reflect how much a person loves another person. Think about last night.”

  “They matter to me, Mike.” She picked up her towel and headed for the door. “You know they matter and still you don’t make an effort. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

  If there had ever been a summer when she was tempted to call Jake Sadler, it was the summer of 1994. After the birthday incident, one of her fellow writers at the paper in Miami invited her to his wedding.

  “I can’t wait,” she told Mike that evening. “We haven’t been on a date in months and this will be even better. We can dress up and dance. Can you make sure you’re free that afternoon?”

  “Ellen,” Mike moaned. “I can tell you right now I don’t have a game that day. But I don’t even know the people getting married. Why don’t you go and use the time to catch up with some of your coworkers?”

  Ellen could feel her anger rising. “Mike, this is a simple thing I’m asking you. I haven’t been feeling great about our marriage and it is very important that you accompany me to this wedding.”

  They discussed it for weeks but in the end she attended the wedding alone and afterward came home and parked in their driveway. She sobbed angry tears for two hours before going in. Thankfully, Jake lived in another state because if she’d had somewhere else to go that night she would have gone.

  There were other occasions after that. Concerts, get-togethers with friends. Mike would only go when Ellen badgered him. Even then he would let her know it was an effort.

  She rolled over in her parents’ bed and thought again about Jake. In some ways, he and Mike were complete opposites. Jake had brought her flowers and given her jewelry and surprised her with picnics on the beach and walks through Magnus Park. With Jake, Ellen never had to wonder if she was loved.

  But she did have to wonder about other things.

  Suddenly she pictured the blond in the bathrobe. Yes, Jake had been attentive, but he had also been dishonest and unfaithful. In the end she had been willing to let go of the romance in hopes of finding someone she could trust, someone with a love for God like she had known in those lonely days after leaving Jake.

  Someone like Mike.

  Mike, did love her. He showed her in a dozen unique ways every day of their lives. He wrote songs for her and did the dishes when she was too tired to move after a day’s work. H
e was loyal and fun loving and utterly faithful.

  She rolled over once more and pulled the pillow more tightly to her body. What is it, Lord? Why aren’t things like they were between us?

  Again, no answer. Tears ran down Ellen’s cheeks. Sure, Mike made mistakes, but his faithfulness had to mean something. He must love her, and more than Jake ever had.

  She closed her eyes and tried to believe it was true.

  23

  For the first time that week, curled up in the king-size bed where her father had spent every night for the past twenty-one years, Ellen slept soundly. The room even smelled like him, and she fell asleep dreaming about being a small child, scurrying to her parents’ bed for protection during one of the fierce Midwestern thunderstorms.

  Sometime later, she grew vaguely aware of someone standing over her, touching her face gently, pulling the covers up over her. The sense she had was one of safety and care, and she burrowed deeper into the pillow with a sigh.

  She awoke the next morning to find her mother lying beside her.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.” Her mother’s smile was tender. Ellen smiled in return. “Morning.” Then she stretched. “Sorry to take over your bed.”

  Mom plumped her pillow and sat up against the headboard. “You were sleeping so soundly when I came in last night, I knew you needed the sleep. I just pulled the covers over you and left you there.”

  Ellen glanced at the clock; it was still early. It would be some time before Aaron was up, before the family members and relatives started calling. For a while she and her mother said nothing, staring at the ceiling, comfortable in the silence between them.

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” her mother said finally. She kept her gaze on the ceiling, talking more to herself than to Ellen. “I wake up, ready to climb out of bed and make him coffee. Sometimes I even get halfway down the hall before I remember. Then it hits me. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

  Ellen felt her gut twist with her mother’s words. She had been so busy that week, fighting with Jane, dealing with Aaron, angry at Mike … struggling with her feelings for Jake. It had almost been enough to make her forget why she was there. But the truth wouldn’t go away. Not for long. She could ignore it, push it to the back of her mind, walk around it. But the fact remained. Her father was gone.

  “I loved him, you know, Ellen. I wonder sometimes if I said that enough.”

  “Oh, Mom, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Ellen rolled onto her side and faced her mother. “Of course you said it enough.”

  “No, I don’t mean to your father. I told him every day. But I wonder if you kids knew how I felt.”

  “We saw how you waited on him, if that’s what you mean.”

  Mom shook her head. She turned onto her side and propped her head up on one hand. “That’s not what I mean at all. I waited on your father because I loved him. Because he would have done anything for me through the years.”

  “We knew that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have treated him the way you did. Still, I always thought he could have been a little more helpful, to tell you the truth.” She paused. “It seemed like you had to do all the housework yourself. Especially after we girls were gone.” She shrugged. “But that didn’t change what was obvious about you and Dad. Everyone knew you loved each other.”

  Her mother sighed. “I didn’t do that much, Ellen. Sure, I made him coffee and brought him a Diet Coke when he asked. I made dinner and did his laundry. But he did things that couldn’t be counted or measured. He made a wonderful life for me. He made me laugh and made our marriage an adventure. Everything we ever did with you children was his idea.” She was quiet then and Ellen saw her lip quiver. “He made us a family, Ellen.”

  Ellen reached for her mother’s hand. Suddenly she knew she would always remember this moment with her mother. The thought brought a fresh pang of regret. If only they had shared more times like this over the years.

  “We’re still a family.” Compassion swept her. “I guess that’s his legacy, huh?”

  Her mom looked unsure. “You children aren’t what you used to be, you’re not as fun loving and close. There was a time when you got along beautifully together.”

  Ellen thought of Jake’s words and pursed her lips pensively. “I don’t know, Mom. I think we always fought. Even in the best of times.”

  “Sure, but nothing serious. Nothing like you and Jane now.”

  Ellen sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But every time we’re together she says something hateful. At least that’s how I see it.”

  “I know. But couldn’t you at least talk to her, ask her what’s bothering her? She’s always been moody, but Ellen, even you must admit this just isn’t like her. It’s obvious something is very wrong.”

  “I’ll try, Mom. I’ve been trying since I got here. But she’s been treating me different for a long time—long before Dad’s death.”

  They were silent again. Finally Mom slipped out of bed, stood up, and stretched. She straightened her nightgown and checked her reflection in the mirror.

  “I have more gray now, did you notice?”

  “Not much. It’s flattering.”

  “That’s what your father said. Sophisticated, he called it.” She took a deep breath and turned back to Ellen. “We’re going shopping this morning at ten so we can find something to wear to the funeral. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. I’ll call Megan and make sure they’re up and getting ready.”

  Mom looked pensive. “Ellen, have you talked to Mike?”

  At Mike’s name, Ellen felt the heat rise in her face. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I just sense that things aren’t great between you.”

  Ellen sat up slowly and hugged her knees to her chest, leaving the bed sheet tucked around her. “We had a fight before I left.”

  “Have you talked to him?” she asked gently.

  “No. I’ve been too busy.”

  “You’ve had time to visit with friends.”

  “Mom,” Ellen groaned. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle my marriage just fine, thank you.”

  “I know. But I think it’s time you called him. You don’t even know when his plane’s coming in for the funeral.”

  “I don’t even know if his plane’s coming.” Ellen instantly regretted making the statement.

  Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Then it’s worse than I thought.” She waited a moment, appraising her oldest daughter carefully. “It’s true, you’re a grown woman, Ellen. You can make your own choices. But if you know what’s best for you, you’ll be on the phone sometime today patching things up.”

  Ellen was silent.

  “The years go by too quickly to waste them in silent prisons of hate.”

  With that, she turned around and headed for the kitchen, leaving Ellen speechless and overwhelmed. All her life she had thought her father to be the poetic one, the parent who could best relate to her creative side. But once in a while her mother would surprise her by coming up with something meaningful enough to be remembered for a lifetime. Silent prisons of hate.

  Ellen peeled back the sheets, stood, and stretched. If only Mike had come with her in the first place. She wandered absently toward her father’s nightstand and opened the top drawer. Assorted pens and pencils, a calculator, and a couple of paperbacks. She shut it and pulled open the next drawer. Suddenly she caught her breath and stared. There was her father’s old Bible.

  Fresh tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered. “I knew you read the Word, but … I didn’t know you kept it here … so close.” She lifted it carefully from the drawer and ran her fingers over the worn leather cover. She traced his name, embossed in gold on the lower right corner. Holding his Bible made her feel nearer to her father than she had felt all week.

  It also made her miss him more.

  She opened it gingerly, wondering if he had written in the margins. Her eyes fell on the dedication page
. “To my beloved John, on our first anniversary. Yours forever in love, Diane.” Ellen felt a stab of regret for all the times she had questioned her parents’ faith. She flipped gently through the text and saw that, indeed, he had written many notes alongside favorite verses. Her eyes fell on one that her father had highlighted and underlined: 1 Corinthians 10:12–13. “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

  Her rather had drawn several asterisks near the verse and written his own comments. “Holdfast to your faith. Temptation is a given; look far the way out! It is possible to fall!” The words cut Ellen as deeply as if her father had been standing before her, saying them himself. She squeezed her eyes shut, and two tears fell onto the delicate paper. Dabbing at the page, she considered the message from her father—or her Father …? She was supposed to be looking for a way out, a way to withstand her temptations. Instead she’d been entertaining thoughts of Jake Sadler from the moment she’d boarded the plane to Michigan.

  Oh, Lord help me stand up under it all. She read the verses and her dad’s words again through blurry, tear-filled eyes. She glanced at the nearby alarm clock. It wasn’t yet seven in Miami so Mike might still be home. She composed herself so that he wouldn’t know she’d been crying, then she picked up the phone and punched in the number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  She paused a moment. “Mike, it’s me.”

  “Ellen.” There was something stiff and unyielding in his voice. He was probably angry with her for waiting so long to call. “I wondered whether you were going to call me this week.”

  “Of course. I’ve just been busy.”

  “Are you okay? Is everyone getting along?”

  “I’m fine, we’re all fine.” There was no need to get into it now. She could tell him the details later. “How’s work?”