He thought back to their honeymoon. They’d planned their wedding to coincide with the beginning of spring break and had left the next day for a week in Hawaii. Each night, they took long walks on the beach, holding hands, sharing their hopes and dreams for the future. Even when they said nothing, it seemed they were in communion with each other.
When had that stopped? When had he stopped knowing what she wanted before she asked? It seemed to him it was about the same time that he started waking up in the middle of the night, wondering how he could make his paycheck stretch another week, wondering if their credit was going to end up in ruins. Or worse. He tried to make Patti understand without letting her know how worried he was. He tried, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. They never talked about money these days. They fought over it.
How could he make things better? They never should have bought that house. Not after Patti lost her editing job. Not when they were about to start a family with two babies at once. Oh, their finances looked tight but okay on paper. But most of the time, he felt like he couldn’t breathe when his thoughts turned to money.
He shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. He’d come up here to think about Patti, and where were his thoughts? Back on their finances instead. Only maybe the two were tied together.
He loved his wife. He wanted her to be happy all the time, not just now and then. He wanted her to laugh the way she used to. He wanted her to look at him with trust, with eyes that said, “I know you’ll never hurt or disappoint me.”
How do I make that happen, God? How?
* * *
A twin in each arm, Patti glanced at the mantel clock in the living room, turned, and walked back to the kitchen. The clock on the stove said the same thing: 1:37.
Where was Al? He should have been home more than an hour ago.
She paced to the living room window and stared out at the street.
This wasn’t like him, not to come home, not to call if delayed. Even when he was angry with her, he wasn’t the thoughtless sort. He was dependable, the type of man who did what he said he would do, who checked his day planner so he never missed an appointment, and who kept the budget in a spreadsheet so the bills were paid on time. She liked those qualities about him. He made her feel safe.
Her own father had none of those qualities. Soon after he left her mother, her dad had moved away from Hart’s Crossing. Phone calls dwindled from once a month to once a year to an occasional birthday or Christmas. He didn’t make it to Patti and Al’s wedding.
Weston started to fuss, an outward expression of his mother’s inward feelings. With a soft moan, she turned from the window and carried the babies toward the stairs. Her right foot was on the bottom step when she heard the garage door open. She turned toward the kitchen. A moment later, Al came into view.
Where were you? Why didn’t you call me?
“Sorry I didn’t come straight home. I…I went for a drive. I needed time to think.”
She pictured Cassandra, placing her fingers against Al’s wrist. “What about?” Her heart raced. Maybe she didn’t want to hear his answer.
“About why we fight so much when neither one of us wants to.”
Her heart stopped racing. It hardly seemed to beat at all. “Did you figure it out?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “I was taking the twins upstairs. Their diapers need to be changed, and Wes is getting hungry.”
“Here.” Al moved toward her. “I’ll help you.” He took Weston into his arms.
What should she say to him? Was it better to talk or be silent? She wasn’t sure. She used to be sure about everything. Now nothing seemed certain.
She turned and ascended the stairs, Al following right behind. They entered the master bedroom, took identical changing mats, baby wipes, and disposable diapers from the small bureau near the bassinets, then placed the mats and babies on the floor and knelt beside them.
“Miss Hart asked about you after the service,” Al said. “She said to call her if you need a babysitter.”
Here it was. The golden opportunity to tell him about her extravagant purchase.
“Al, I…” She swallowed, searching for the words.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can use Miss Hart sometime. I…I’ve decided to give the babies a bottle every now and then. So I don’t have to be with them for every feeding. Not formula, though.”
Tell him. Tell him the whole truth.
She glanced up, and the words stuck in her throat. He looked as uncertain as she felt. He didn’t want to fight, and neither did she.
Tomorrow would be soon enough. She would tell him tomorrow.
Chapter 7
SOMEHOW, ONE DAY BECAME two, which became three, which became more, and still Patti didn’t tell Al about the charge on the credit card. Why make waves when they were getting along?
But her reprieve couldn’t last forever. The credit card bill would arrive one of these days. Delaying would only make things worse. Unless she could get a little help. And there was only one person she could ask.
Early on Friday morning, she picked up the phone and dialed, punching in the extension when asked for it.
“Janet Alexander.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Patti?”
“Sorry to call you at work.”
“That’s all right, dear. Let me close my office door.” There was the sound of movement from the other end of the line. “There. Now tell me. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. You know how it is in Hart’s Crossing. One day’s pretty much like another. The twins are growing like weeds, and Al and I are both well even though there’s a virus or the flu or something going around since school started.”
“Are you getting more rest?”
“Yes. The twins are sleeping longer stretches at night. Not all the way through but almost.”
“Good. That’s always a relief.”
Patti chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Mom…you know how you told me that I needed to get out more? You know, have a breather from the babies, see a movie, go to the diner.”
“Of course I remember.”
“I haven’t been able to yet, but I decided to start feeding the babies sometimes from a bottle so they’ll get used to it. Then we can hire a sitter, and Al and I can go out together. Only we’re both against the idea of using formula.” Her words came faster. “Anyway, I was looking around online, and I found this breast pump that all the mothers rave about, so I ordered it. It’s absolutely the perfect thing. It’s making a huge difference. Only”—she drew a quick breath“I need a little help with the cost of it.”
“How much?”
Her voice lowered. “Three hundred dollars.”
“Three hundred dollars? My gracious, Patricia Ann. It must be made of pure gold.”
“No.” She choked on a sob. “It isn’t.”
“Patti? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Everything.”
“Take a deep breath, honey.”
Patti wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so tired of crying, Mom. I feel like such a baby. I’m trying to make a nice home for Al and the twins. I love them so much. But it seems like I can’t do anything right. Al and I have been fighting a lot. Mostly about money.”
Her mother was silent for a while before saying, “Did you argue about the three hundred dollars?”
“Not yet.”
“You haven’t told him you bought it?”
“No.”
“Oh, honey. Keeping secrets isn’t good for a marriage.”
Patti stared out the window at the backyard. “I know. And it won’t be a secret for long because the credit card statement is about due.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “Will you help me, Mom? If you lend me the money, I’ll pay you back a little each month.”
She hated the silence that followed. She could imagine
the wheels turning in her mom’s head as she debated the pros and cons of bailing Patti out of trouble. The amount of money wouldn’t bother her mother. Janet and Doug Alexander lived comfortable lives, and both made good incomes in their respective careers. Her mom’s concern would be whether or not giving Patti the money was the right thing to do, the best thing to do.
At last, the silence ended.
“I’ll give you the money, dear, on one condition. Actually, several conditions. First, you tell Al what you did. No more secrets. The two of you need to have a serious conversation about your finances and then live within the boundaries. Second, if you two are fighting as much as you say you are, you need to consider counseling. Two people can love each other and still need help learning to communicate. There is no shame in that. And third, tell your doctor how you’re feeling. Maybe the problem is more than lack of sleep or a need to get out of the house a bit more.”
Patti didn’t protest the conditions her mom set. She had no right to protest. Besides, it was good advice. Even in her emotional state she recognized that. “Okay.”
“I’ll put the check in the mail today.”
“Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it. Really.”
“I know, dear. I love you very much. You take care of yourself, and give my love to Al and the babies.”
“I will. I love you too. Bye.”
“Good-bye.”
With a sigh, Patti returned the handset to the charger, her thoughts racing ahead to that evening and the promised conversation with her husband.
* * *
Al stood on the spot where blacktop met schoolyard and watched the kids at play during their lunch break. Laughter and shouts abounded. There was a group climbing on the playground equipment, others kicking around a soccer ball, a few taking swings at a baseball with a bat, some sitting in bunches on the grass. No injuries. No fighting. That was just the way he wanted it when he was assigned playground duty.
“Look out!”
He turned at the same moment the baseball went zipping past his head. He took a quick step backward. Not that it mattered. By that time, the ball was past him and bouncing across the blacktop.
Lyssa Sampson jogged toward him. “Sorry, Mr. Bedford. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He touched his temple, as if checking to see if he’d been hit. “Better watch those wild pitches.”
“I didn’t throw it.” She jerked a thumb behind her. “It was a foul ball. Blame Vince. He hit it.”
As if he’d heard what Lyssa said, Vince Johnson shouted, “Sorry, Mr. Bedford.”
Al waved at the boy to let him know all was well.
Lyssa hurried after the baseball, obviously eager to return to the game.
Al chuckled. Moments like this, there was no doubt in his heart that he was born to be a teacher. He loved working with kids, shaping young minds, challenging them to achieve great things. He had to love it. Nobody entered public educationespecially in a small town school districtbecause they want to get rich.
Rich isn’t necessary, but more would be nice.
The thought brought a frown to his brow. He hated that moneyor the lack thereofwas constantly on his mind. It made him feel petty and complaining. Shouldn’t he have an attitude of gratitude instead? Shouldn’t his first thoughts be about how much God had blessed him?
He turned, preparing to walk to the opposite end of the schoolyard. That’s when he saw Cassandra heading toward him. She was smiling, and there was a jaunty spring in her step that made her seem not a whole lot older than some of the kids on the playground.
“Did you hear?” she asked as she drew near.
“Hear what?”
“Our field trip to the Craters of the Moon is a definite go.”
“That’s great.”
“I know. I can think of at least a dozen related projects my class can work on in relation to it.”
Cassandra’s excitement was palpable. Would she one day find herself worried about paying the mortgage and car payment and grocery bill from her teacher’s salary?
“Al… What’s troubling you?”
It bothered him that she could read him so well. It felt… wrong. Why was that?
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“If you ever need to talk, you know I’m only a classroom away.”
“Sure. Thanks.” He was saved from saying more by the ringing of the school bell, calling kids back to class.
* * *
Gretchen Livingston, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, took a sip of vanilla chai tea and smiled. “Patti, this is so good. Thanks for making me a cup.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
Patti’s neighbor ran her fingers through her short blond hair. “Oh, my. It’s good to have a weekday off. It’s so much easier to accomplish things around the house when I’m the only one at home.”
“Sometimes I don’t think I’ll catch up until the twins are in high school.”
Gretchen laughed. “I remember feeling that way when Amy was a baby. I can only imagine what it’s like for you.”
“Speaking of Amy” Patti sat down opposite Gretchen and motioned with her head toward the family room where Amy sat with the twins “she’s been such a help to me.”
“Well, don’t let her become a pest. You send her home anytime you don’t want her here.”
“She’s never a pest, believe me. I hope my two will be as well-mannered when they’re thirteen.”
Gretchen smiled again. “That’s a great compliment. Thanks.”
“It’s just the truth.” Patti lowered her gaze to the cup on the table. “Gretchen, when Amy was a newborn, were you ever… did you ever” She stopped and drew in a deep breath. “I’m so moody lately. Mom thinks maybe I should see a counselor. She wonders if I might have postpartum depression or something.” As soon as she said it, she was sorry. She liked Gretchen and all, but they weren’t close friends. Did she want her neighbors knowing her deep dark secrets? No!
Gretchen gave her shoulders a slight shrug as she shook her head. “I didn’t get depressed after Amy was born, but I was really tired, so everything seemed twice as hard as it really was.” She took another sip of tea. “But if you decide you need a counselor, I can recommend someone to you. Hayley Young. Do you know her?”
Patti shook her head.
“She has an office on Idaho south of Main Street. Very soft spoken and gentle. I went to see her a couple of years ago for a few months when I was struggling with something. She was a great help to me.”
Gretchen couldn’t know it, but just hearing she’d sought the help of a counselor herself made Patti feel less of a failure as a wife and mom. And as a woman.
“Now, I’d better get home so I can accomplish a few more of those nagging to-do items.” Gretchen finished the last of her tea, then rose and carried her cup to the kitchen sink. As she headed for the back door, she called, “Amy, don’t forget Mrs. Hargrove is picking you up at five o’clock.”
“I won’t, Mom. See you in a while.”
Patti followed Gretchen to the door. “Thanks for coming over. And for telling me about Hayley Young.”
“Glad to help, Patti. Have a nice evening.”
“We will.”
As she closed the back door, she breathed a silent prayer. Please, let it be a nice evening.
Chapter 8
DELICIOUS ODORS GREETED AL as he entered the kitchen. Patti stood at the counter, holding the lid of the electric frying pan in one hand and a large pronged fork in the other.
“Smells good.” It was one of his favorite meals, a juicy roast cooked with onions, carrots, and potatoes. When they were first married, Patti had asked his mother to show her how to prepare the dinner the way he liked it.
She turned her head and smiled. “Hi, honey. You’re home just in time.” She set the lid on the pan. “Dinner should be ready soon.”
“The twins asleep?” He stepped forward and kissed her on the lips.
“Mmm.”
She cocked her head toward the family room. “Have a look.”
Lately, he and Patti had been so careful what they said and how they said it. It was exhausting. A little like the proverbial walking on eggshells. But their methods seemed to be working.
He moved toward the family room. There, seated in the rocking chair, was Amy Livingston, Sunni in the crook of one arm, a bottle of milk in her opposite hand. Weston lay on a blanket on the floor, staring at a portable mobile.
“Amy came over after school again.” Patti stepped to his side. “She already fed Wes, and now she’s taking care of Sunni. I never would have gotten dinner ready on time without her help.”
The girl glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Mr. Bedford.”
“Hey, Amy.”
Patti touched his arm. “They’ve taken to the bottles of breast milk without complaint.” Her voice lowered. “I thought maybe we could ask Amy and Miss Hart to watch the babies for a few hours next weekend or the one after so you and I could go out to eat and maybe see a movie.”
“Amy and Miss Hart?”
“Yes. I’m afraid the twins would be too much for Miss Hart alone. She is seventy-six, after all. Amy’s a great help, but she’s still kind of young to be in charge. So I thought the two of them…” She let the explanation drift into silence, unfinished.
He cupped the side of her face with his right hand. “Sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll check the Press and see what’s playing at the Apollo.”
The local weekly paper, the Mountain View Press, listed movie schedules for four weeks out. Although the Apollo Theater—which showed movies Friday through Sunday—rarely got first-run movies, most of the good films found their way to Hart’s Crossing eventually. There should be something worth seeing in the next couple of weeks.
Patti’s smile made her brown eyes sparkle. “Great.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’d better check on the roast. I don’t want it to dry out.”
Al watched her go, then entered the family room and lifted his son into his arms. “Amy, would you like to ask your mom if you can stay for dinner? I’m sure there’s plenty.”
Home to Hart's Crossing (4-in-1 Edition) Page 24
