“You are? Great. Would you like to come to our Seaside Chapel Men’s Bible Study sometime?”
“Sure. When I feel better I’ll give you a call.”
* * *
By Wednesday the mass student exodus from McMillan Studio was unmissable. Out of Ivan’s forty students only three stayed and only because they decided to switch from violin to piano. The rest of them—students and their parents—assured him that they would consider coming back to him when his wrist healed and he was able to play again.
What good was a violin teacher who could not show the students how anything was done? Besides, there was an unwritten guideline among music teachers that one didn’t steal other teachers’ students. As far as Ivan was concerned, once his students were gone, they might never return to his studio.
Sitting there at the waiting area of Rao Family Physicians, he wondered if he could even pay for this doctor’s visit. They hadn’t called him yet. He could still get up and walk out.
Several more email pings later, and Ivan snapped shut his phone, tired of reading all those “we’re sorry we have to go to another violin teacher” emails.
Two-thirds of his income came from his string studio. The other third came from SISO. Disability checks were one thing but his hourly income kept the three mortgages afloat. If nothing happened by the end of January, the bank could demand the loan balance. After all, they were already a month behind. He was surprised the bank hadn’t called.
How did this happen? What was he going to say to Grandma?
He had been intercepting the mail so Grandma didn’t see the inevitable. How long was that going to last? She’d find out eventually that they couldn’t make the payments, if she didn’t already know.
Maybe he was doing this upside down. Maybe he should have paid the primary mortgage first instead of the liens.
Maybe he should talk to an accountant. Well, accountants cost money. Maybe he could talk to Matt Garnett. Matt knew how to manage money. He could help him figure this out. Well, it meant Ivan had to show Matt his royal mess and live with the pain of embarrassment at his poor money skills. Or he could take one of those financial management classes at Seaside Chapel. They had them from time to time.
He looked around the waiting area, wondering how worse off everyone else was. He almost stood up to leave, but an interior door swung open, and a nurse called his name.
Oh well.
He and Grandma usually saw intern Tristan Rao, the son of Dr. Andrew Rao who ran the practice. Tristan attended Seaside Chapel and had started to go to the same Sunday School class as Ivan. He wasn’t in today because he was visiting his extended family in India. Other doctors and nurse practitioners were.
Ivan didn’t need to see Tristan personally. He was here to get his wrist X-rayed to see how his bones were healing and to get his cast checked. He was pretty sure he’d kept it dry, so he wasn’t worried about that.
Lord, heal me, please.
He hoped that God would answer that prayer here on earth. Of course, people were healed when they arrived in heaven, but he wasn’t ready to go there yet. He had a long bucket list to get to after he paid off all these debts he had.
His wrist cast would be off soon. He knew that Grandma Yun was praying for him too. Perhaps more intensively than he ever knew how to pray.
He also knew that Brinley was praying for him. She was still in Paris. She had texted earlier saying that she had missed him, but also that she would be spending the rest of January in Atlanta transitioning her position in her dad’s company to someone else.
By the time Brinley returned to St. Simon’s Island, his cast would be off. Then he could get back to playing the violin, right?
Thank You, Lord.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“The McMillans fall in love fast and deeply, I think.” Zoe was lying prone on the nineteenth-century settee that Mom had bought for her Paris apartment.
Across from her on the other side of the Persian carpet, Brinley wondered what Zoe had meant. She didn’t ask. Zoe was like Mom, and like Mom she would explain given the chance. So Brinley waited while she looked in Zoe’s direction. Behind Zoe, tall windows opened to the Parisian skyline. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower was changing into its night colors of glitter and lights.
“Otto and Yun met on a blind date, and were engaged a week later. Their daughter, Jade, had birthed three children by two different fathers by the time she was twenty-three. Quincy and I were an item two months after we met. You and Ivan… What’s going on between you two?”
“I don’t know, Zoe. We’re still getting to know each other.”
“And?”
“I think we’re close.”
“And?”
“I think we’re serious about each other. I didn’t think we’d last past Christmas, but here we are.”
“See what I mean? Quincy kissed me on our first date. He was very passionate.”
Ivan almost kissed me before we went on a date. What did that say about him?
“I think Quincy is bored with me now, Brin.” Zoe’s eyes turned red.
“Hush, Zoe. Watch out for those hormones.”
“Maybe that’s it. You might be right.”
Or I might be wrong.
“Quincy has been antsy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he doesn’t like Paris.”
“Well, some people like to visit, some like to stay. It varies, as with any city.” Brinley folded her legs under her and leaned against one side of the wingback bergère.
“What a diplomatic answer.” Zoe sprang up. “Hold that thought!”
She ran past Brinley, heading in the direction of the bathroom. Seconds later, Brinley heard her retch.
Brinley felt sorry for her sister. This morning sickness had been why Zoe and Quincy had cancelled their trip to Vienna with the rest of the family. Mom and Dad had gone anyway, even though they didn’t get any tickets for the New Year’s Day concert by the Vienna Philharmonic. Brinley was sure they’d find their way into some other smaller orchestral celebrations, and maybe even throw in an opera or two.
Zoe returned to her settee, looking rather sick.
“May I get you something?” Brinley asked.
“I can hardly eat. I’m sorry we had to cancel lunch at Le Meurice twice.”
Brinley didn’t mind. She would rather eat at home. But Zoe loved that restaurant, where dinner for the two of them would have cost more than a thousand dollars. “How about some soup?”
“I’ll heat up something later if I get hungry. Right now nothing is staying down, you know. Don’t get pregnant. It’s miserable.”
Brinley laughed. “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I have to keep that vow with Grandpa. For another, Ivan… I mean, he’s a devout Christian.”
“And you became a Christian too, Dad said.”
Brinley nodded. “We’re going to have this sweet and clean relationship.”
“Until you get married.”
“That’s not even in the horizon.”
“That’s probably what we should’ve done. Then I wouldn’t be second-guessing my marriage now.”
Brinley sat up. “Zoe.”
“Quincy snores. He slurps his soup. And puts his foot in his mouth all the time.”
“That’s all?” Brinley asked. “I’m sure there’re worse things than that. Like infidelity, drugs, serial killing, whatever.”
“I guess if you put it that way, it puts things in perspective. He is crazy about me or he seems to be.”
“The McMillan passion, huh?” Brinley wondered. “It lasted for seventy years for Otto and Yun.”
“Good point.” Zoe had to get up again to go throw up. “I think I’m going to bed afterwards.”
“Feel better. I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, sis!”
Brinley checked the time on her iPhone. Almost six o’clock Paris time. That would be
about noon on the Georgia coast. She wondered what Ivan was doing. They had texted and called each other almost every day. She thought that Ivan was very interested in her. She thought he wanted to explore their relationship further.
But after talking with Zoe, she had to make sure.
Three weeks.
That wasn’t nearly enough time for Brinley and Ivan to know each other, was it? They were attracted to each other, but was it love?
What was love?
What did real love look like?
Then again, they had talked to each other almost everyday. Three full weeks of communication. More than some couples did all year long.
Brinley texted Ivan. “You there?”
He texted back right away. “Didn’t want you to think I wanted to call you all the time, but I do. Did I say all the time?”
Brinley was still processing what Ivan had texted when her iPhone chirped.
“Hey.”
One word and it made Brinley’s heart flutter. She wished Ivan had an iPhone but he didn’t. So to talk with him they had to Skype. She turned on the app. “You look like you just came out of the shower.”
“I did.”
“How’s the wrist?”
“Still painful. I won’t know the full extent of the damage until I get out of this cast.”
“It’s the second of January today. Hey, only three and a half weeks left before they saw that thing off. Hang in there.”
“I know. The twenty-eighth can’t come soon enough. You’ll be back the following week, right? On the third of February?”
“That’s the plan. If Dill needs me to stay in town a bit longer, that’s the way it goes. I want a smooth transition so they won’t call me back.” Brinley had a feeling it shouldn’t be a problem, but one never knew it with Dillon.
“I hear you. Whenever you get back here, we’ll celebrate. I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“I prefer a home-cooked meal.”
“I know, but I miss you and I want us to go out and eat dinner at someplace special. Just the two of us.”
“That’ll be nice.” Don’t overdo it.
“Do you want to pick a place?”
“Surprise me, Ivan.”
“I will, then. Maybe somewhere cozy where we can talk.”
Brinley laughed. “We always talk.”
“That’s how we get to know each other. Say, why does your dad call you Brinley Brin?”
“Better than Bratty Brin.”
Ivan laughed. “Sure. I can’t believe you were a brat.”
“Oh, I was the perfect child.”
“I can’t believe that either.”
“Neither can I. Seriously, I was the obscure middle child. I neither excelled nor failed. I was middle of the road, plain jane, ordinary.”
“You’re not ordinary nor obscure, Brin. Every time I think of you my wrist hurts less.”
“God is healing you.” Brinley moved to the window. She adjusted the iPhone to catch a view of the Eiffel Tower. “Look at that.”
“Cool. You’re going up there sometime?”
“Nope. It’s too crowded. Like Vienna this time of year.”
On screen, Ivan sat back in his plastic chair. “Nice of you to stay behind with your sister instead of going to Vienna.”
“I’m glad to spend time with my sister.”
“How’s my brother doing?”
“I see him now and then. He’s not here. He’s taking a conversational French class this evening.”
“Immersion is the best way to learn. Sounds like they might be staying in Paris for good.”
Brinley sat down on the settee by the window so that her backdrop was the night city. “Like that view?”
“Like you better.”
Brinley prayed silently for the right words to say.
“Uh-oh. Whassup?” Ivan leaned toward his laptop camera. “Having second thoughts about us?”
“I’m not sure if we had any first thoughts. Are we moving too fast?”
“Come see me and let me kiss those doubts away, Brin.”
“That sounds like a commitment.”
Brinley heard some extra noises coming from Ivan’s side.
“Grandma is calling me about something,” Ivan said. “I have to go. Take it easy and think of me.”
“And God. Don’t forget God.”
“That’s a given, Brin.”
“Okay. Just want to be sure.”
* * *
The long walk down the gravel path between the trees to the mailbox by the roadside gave Ivan time to think about the conversation he had with Brinley only moments ago. Things Brinley had said here and there now gnawed at him, things like:
Are we moving too fast?
What did she mean by that? Warning bells from his friends at the Seaside Chapel Men’s Bible Study Group rang in his head, what Matt and Sebastian had suggested at their last meeting in December.
Maybe she’s waiting for a better offer later and you’re available now.
Ivan wondered if Brinley had met someone new in Paris. Surely in her rich circles it would be easier to meet eligible bachelors than not. They might not even be bachelors as long as they were single, divorced, or available.
How am I going to compete with those rich guys?
The mailbox was stuffed. Ivan could barely get the mail out. There were what looked like belated Christmas cards with foreign postmarks. Some were from Grandma’s missionary friends, and some were from her relatives in Seoul.
Then there were bills, bills, bills. He could feel the pressure in his chest. The pressure to pay up.
Then there was his box of checks. Better not write any of those. They’d bounce.
A few envelopes slipped out of his hands. He reached down to pick them up. Told himself he should’ve brought a plastic bag to carry all of these back to the house. Propping the stack of mail between one good hand and one in a cast, he started his walk back to the house.
To the right and left of him, the green space on the property extended quite a way off. Grandma and Grandpa had bought the house back in the fifties when land on St. Simon’s Island had been cheap. This land would eventually belong to him, Quincy, and Willow. Grandma had wanted to split it three ways.
He wondered now if he could talk to Quincy and Willow into selling two-thirds of it to some of those developers. The sale of the land might be enough to pay off all these debts, the bulk of which he had been handling
Until my wrist broke.
“Lord, when are you going to heal me?” Ivan shook his head and then felt bad. It was as if he were shaking his fist at God.
God would heal him when He healed him. Ivan was at God’s mercy, not the other way around. He couldn’t make God do anything.
Usually, after he had checked the mailbox, Ivan would sit on the porch to go through the bills. However, it was way too cold today.
Grandma was waiting for him in the living room. “Any bills?”
It was a longstanding joke between them.
“Enough to build a bonfire.” Ivan dropped the pile onto one end of the couch, sat down, and began to sort through the envelopes.
He spotted several envelopes from credit card companies. Funny how it went. The more debt he was in, the more invitations he received to open new credit card accounts and to take out new loans. Well, he could use the new loans to pay off the old loans.
Use new debts to pay off old debts.
Not sure how one gets out of a hole by digging some more.
“Are we making payments on the house?” Grandma asked quietly.
“Working on it.”
“What does that mean, Ivan?”
It means we have no money. “I’m moving money around so we can make the house payments. I have no income right now, so it’s going to be tough for a while.”
“Moving money around?” Grandma stopped rocking. “How long before they take the house?”
“If we miss the next payment.” Yeah, the next payment
after this month’s.
“Tell me the truth, Ivan.”
Ivan knew Grandma would see through it. Carefully, he worded it. “We’re broke, Grandma. I am so sorry I wasn’t able to get us out of debt. We’ve missed a payment in December, and we’re going to miss another one this month. One more in February, and we’re out on the streets.”
Ivan expected Grandma to be upset, but she didn’t show it. All she said was: “God has a solution.”
“I wish He’d fixed it already.”
“Patience, Ivan.”
“Time has run out and God hasn’t come through.”
“Don’t speak like that about the God who saved your soul.”
“Time has run out.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“My fault.” Might as well give in.
“No, Ivan. We’re all at fault. From Grandpa Otto’s crazy business ideas to our lack of financial sense. None of us McMillans ever knew how to manage money. I remember Otto’s parents living through the Great Depression. Things aren’t as bad today as they were back then, but life has always been hard for our family. If only we learned how to manage what little we have, we wouldn’t be shaming God now.”
Ivan wanted to sink into the couch. He felt that he was the man of the family now that Grandpa Otto was dead and Quincy was out of the country. But he had failed to be the head of the household.
“Ivan, look at me.”
“Yes, Grandma?” Ivan’s shoulders sagged.
“Our real home is in heaven. If we have to sell this dump, then sell this dump.”
“It’s not a dump, Grandma. We grew up here.”
“Those times will always be in our memories, but there comes a time when we have to move on. Beatrice at church told me about this place in Brunswick. Low rent. Low utilities.”
“Beatrice lives in a trailer park, Grandma.”
“So what? It’s a roof over our heads. Maybe that’s how God is providing for us.” Grandma rocked again in her well-oiled rocker. “Sometimes we have incorrect expectations of how we want God to provide for us when perhaps He has already provided.”
“Don’t forget to think of God,” Ivan said. “That’s what Brinley said to me on the phone just now.”
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