Share with Me: Seaside Chapel Book 1

by Thompson, Jan

  “Not sure if he wants you to know…”

  “Know what?”

  “That his card was declined.”

  Brinley remained calm. Ivan needed a budget. If they were to go further in this relationship, she was going to require him to get on a budget. “Let me see the bill.”

  Yikes. Ivan’s done it this time.

  Brinley couldn’t believe how much it had cost either. She reached for her purse and retrieved four one-hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change if you say no more.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As soon as the server left, Ivan was back looking distressed.

  “Everything okay?” Brinley asked. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  “No. I’m fine. I was trying to get a hold of Sebastian, but he’s not available.”

  “Well, are we ready to go?” It was dark outside and pushing nine o’clock. Brinley wanted to go home and go to bed. Tomorrow morning she would get back on the treadmill.

  Before Ivan could answer, the maître d’ came to the table. “Miss Brooks, Mr. McMillan, I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening.”

  “Beautiful view, great food, excellent service,” Brinley said. “What more could we ask?”

  “That you come back soon, perhaps?” he said. “Your mother and sister frequently stop by for lunch when they’re in town. Perhaps you’ll join them sometime.”

  “Of course. I will, Rémy.”

  “Thank you and have a wonderful night.”

  Ivan cleared his throat. “The check?”

  “It’s taken care of, Mr. McMillan.” Rémy’s voice was suddenly cold, Brinley thought.

  “That’s great.” Ivan sat up straighter. “I guess Sebastian got my message. Well, Brin, let’s go home.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The old curtains held together by duct tape fluttered a little when the heater revved to life. Next to it and under an old desk, Ivan stretched out his legs to catch the heat through the socks on his feet.

  It was late, pushing three o’clock in the morning. But he had to stay up. The bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

  He had spent hours moving dollar amounts on paper to try to pay all the bills. Water, gas, and electricity came right after food. Grandma Yun’s medications and vitamins would be out-of-pocket as his music studio health insurance wasn’t going to cover any of it. Ivan’s own prescriptions would be taken care of by the disability insurance. We hope.

  Then there was gas for the truck. He couldn’t ride his bicycle until his left hand had enough strength to grip the handlebar. Until then he had to drive the truck to find work. The truck could take him far in case he found work on Jekyll or somewhere off St. Simon’s Island. He could sell the truck and buy a cheaper car, but who’d want a poorly maintained 1945 Chevy truck?

  Ivan went down the list. Tens of thousands of dollars of unpaid credit card debt he couldn’t possibly pay now. Nearly two hundred thousand dollars of house mortgages spread over three loans, one primary and two liens. He wondered how long it would take to pay all that off.

  He dared not ask God to rescue him because part of the debt was his own doing. Then again, God could solve this problem.

  Lord, fix my finances. Help me get out of debt. Help me never to get into debt again.

  This was the first week of February, and almost everything was due or overdue. Ivan stared down at the lists of income and expenses. Without his students, his music studio income had been zero dollars since January. He would have to miss a third house payment or pay partial amounts to all three mortgages. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried to pay off the liens back in November. It had caused him to skip a house payment.

  What in the world had he done?

  Now they were in trouble. According to Matt, Georgia law said that three missed payments would trigger the bank’s foreclosure proceedings on Grandma Yun. The house was in her name though Ivan paid all the bills.

  How could I do this to her?

  Instinctively, his right hand gripped his left wrist as the twisty, seizing pain ripped up his wrist. His thumb pulsated and so did several of his fingers. The swelling had gone down after two weeks of therapy, but the pain inside the wrist was still there.

  Ivan feared he had more damage than the doctor and x-rays could tell.

  The vent in the old house quieted. Ivan started to feel cold again. In the middle of winter, the only way Ivan knew to keep the heating costs down was to wear more clothes at night. Sweatshirts and sweatpants were not nearly enough. Ivan pulled the old blanket from his high school days, folded it in half, and hung it over his shoulders.

  There. He was warm now. Barely.

  He wondered if Grandma was as cold as he was. Perhaps she needed more blankets and quilts. He didn’t want to go downstairs to check on her. She was a light sleeper and his walking around looking for blankets in the linen closet in her bedroom would wake her up. He decided that if she was cold, she could get the blanket herself.

  He went back to the pieces of paper scattered on his table. He had printed out some sort of chart. His old laptop was whirring on its last legs. He entered those expenses into his accounting software, and found that he was short on everything except his occupational therapy sessions.

  Those were somehow taken care of.

  Hmmm…

  He had assumed it was his disability insurance, but he doubted if it paid for everything. He jotted down a note to himself to call the therapy center to find out who had been footing his bills.

  Ivan moved numbers around to no avail. He couldn’t make the house payment if they were to have money for food. Without income sources other than Grandma’s social security checks, they would have to live off credit cards again for the second month. He had already maxed out two of those credit cards. It made no sense at all for him to write checks off one credit card to pay off another. But desperate people didn’t always do common sense things.

  I have to find a new job.

  Or sell the house.

  Or both.

  Where would they go if they sold the house? There were a couple of trailer parks they might be able to rent in. Or they could move to Atlanta to live with Ivan’s sister, Willow. Willow might be mad at Ivan, but surely she wouldn’t turn away her own grandma who had raised her. Maybe as Ivan regained his strength he could help teach piano or sub for Willow in her studio.

  What kind of other music work could a one-armed violinist do? Ivan wasn’t sure. SISO could use a better music librarian, but that position was also part-time. What Ivan needed was a full-time job, even if at minimum wage. Something that had healthcare for him and Grandma.

  Ivan opened up a spiral-bound notebook and began jotting down his job jar for the next day, which would be here in a few hours when the sun rose. First thing he should do was call Matt Garnett. Matt owned two businesses next to each other, one an antique store and the other a thrift shop. Ivan figured he could try to get work there to hold them over for four months until he could play and teach violin again.

  Ivan leaned back against the rickety yard sale chair. He rubbed his temples. A headache started from one side of his head and shot to the other side.

  “How did we end up this low?”

  They had been struggling, but had managed to make ends meet and pay the mortgages. He loved his music studio and SISO experiences. What changed all that? Wh—

  Brinley Brooks.

  Everything had turned upside down since Brinley showed up. Sure, she had done some good things for the McMillans. Grandma owned a new motorized wheelchair now to get around at home and at church. The commode had been fixed. The termite problem under the porch had been exterminated.

  Then Brinley had gone and done the unthinkable. She had bought the 1721 Schoenberg Stradivarius violin in a fundraising auction, and loaned it to SISO, who then let Ivan use it.

  And here we are.

  One missing violin, several broken bones, and two lost jobs later, Ivan could see clearly whose fault it was.
>
  He had been blind; he didn’t see it coming. Rich people were nothing but trouble for poor people. It would’ve been better had the two worlds kept to themselves.

  Ivan groaned.

  How had it happened? How had he fallen in love with someone like her standing there at the pier watching right whale migration? What in the world made him kiss her a second time at the top of the lighthouse? And to reveal to her his dream of opening a music studio in that warehouse building in the Pier Village district?

  Could it be possible that God had brought Brinley into his life and that they hadn’t bumped into each other? Why would God do that?

  Ivan tightened the ratty blanket around his shoulders, and rolled onto his old creaking bed. Would God have brought Brinley into his life to bless him and Grandma?

  Nah. We’ve never been that blessed.

  * * *

  Ivan woke up with a kink in his neck and his cell phone chirping in his ears. He hadn’t planned on answering it, but his finger didn’t get the memo. By the time Ivan realized it, he was turning over on his bed and saying hello in a raspy, just-woke-up voice.

  “Hey, man. You rang?”

  Sebastian Langston. I should thank him.

  Ivan cleared his throat. “Hey, Seb.”

  “Sorry I missed your call. I’m in Miami at the food festival here. I ran out of juice on the phone.”

  “Not a problem. I appreciate your taking care of the situation last night.”

  “What situation?”

  “At your restaurant.” Ivan wondered how to say it without showing shame. Shame that he had no handle on his finances. Shame that he had taken Brinley out without enough money on his credit card. Shame that he had no money in the bank to even withdraw enough cash at a teller to cover the dinner.

  “What about it? You said something about IOU?”

  Ivan detected some tentativeness in Sebastian’s voice.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, Sebastian. I had no idea the dinner was going to cost that much, and I had no idea my collectors cashed my payments, so I am eternally grateful, friend, that you gave me that grace and mercy about my insufficient funds. I’ll pay you back whatever I owe you, all right?”

  There. I said it.

  It was true that the collectors had cashed the checks he had written against the credit cards, those checks that had come in the mail together with the temporary credit cards that he had activated to pay the bills. Unfortunately, they had all arrived in the same week, depleting his credit card. His new credit card. He had lost count how many new credit cards he’d had in the last twelve months juggling payments.

  “Seb, you there?”

  “I’m here. Let me check on something and call you back, Ivan.”

  “Okay.” Ivan put his cell phone on the stack of bills on the table and traipsed to the bathroom to brush his teeth as quickly as he could in case Sebastian called back.

  He wanted to make good on this IOU. He was probably about a hundred dollars short, so if he sold something, he might be able to get the money to pay Sebastian back. He looked around his bedroom for something he could sell. Grandpa Otto’s World War II medals were probably not worth much. The old nineteenth-century McMillan family Bible was too precious to sell. He wandered into his closet, pushed here and there.

  He saw his box of music manuscripts.

  When he had been touring the world trying to establish Jade Strings as the go-to ensemble, he would stop at old music shops across Europe and pick up old violin music sheets, some in ink, some pencil, and all handwritten. He could ask Matt if his antique store would like to have them. He could get an estimate and give Matt a discount. It would still be a better deal than what he could get from the pawn shop in Brunswick.

  He dived for his cell phone at the first ring. “Yeah?”

  As expected, it was Sebastian. “Hey, I called Rémy, my maître d’, and he said that it’s all been taken care of.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Seb. Whew. You rescued me from embarrassing myself in front of Brinley.” It was bad enough that he had no money. It was worse if Brinley saw him in his poverty. Not that she hadn’t already figured it out. But a man had his dignity.

  “I didn’t do anything, Ivan. I told you.”

  Oh no.

  “My phone had no battery. I got it charged up this morning, and heard your message for the first time ten minutes ago.”

  This is bad.

  “So who paid for my dinner last night?” Ivan asked, fearing the answer.

  “Well… Rémy said the lady paid in cash.”

  The lady paid in cash.

  Brinley.

  Now my shame is complete.

  Ivan couldn’t remember the rest of the conversation with Sebastian, but he hurriedly said goodbye and hung up.

  “Who am I kidding?” he asked himself. “I can’t even go to a restaurant like rich people, eat like they do, and pay like they can.”

  They’re the lords and ladies of the manor, and I’m just a poor serf.

  “Note to self! We live in two different worlds. There can’t be a middle ground.” Ivan ran that thought through his mind as he got more upset by the minute. “I’ll always be the hired entertainer. Nothing more.”

  Not a hired entertainer, but a bottom feeder.

  Yeah. Once a bottom feeder, always a bottom feeder.

  “How can a bottom feeder date a lady of the manor?” Ivan knew then that he and Brinley were never meant to be. In the scheme of life, she was the one who had everything, and he, the one who had nothing.

  We live in two different worlds. There is no middle ground.

  What about their kisses at the pier and lighthouse?

  I’m sure the kisses were a stupid mistake.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “He won’t come out.” At the bottom of the stairs, Yun McMillan tried to mask her pensiveness. “Maybe it’s the painkillers.”

  “You think that’s making him sleep this much?” Brinley counted to ten and then knocked on the door again. “Ivan? It’s me.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t wake him up.”

  “That’s what you said Thursday when I called, Yun.” Today was Saturday and Ivan still didn’t want to see Brinley. She wondered what was going on. What was making Ivan lock himself away from the world?

  “I’m sure he’s not starving,” Yun offered.

  “Yeah, you mentioned the food wrappers in the trash can at night.”

  Yun shifted in her electric wheelchair. She looked older now than the week before. Brinley couldn’t believe that Ivan could be this heartless, letting his grandmother fend for herself. She made a mental note to get Yun some help.

  For now, this minute, she had a bigger problem. An oversized child was ensconced behind that old wooden door, and the only way to break in was to destroy part of the old oak panels, circa 1900, and she couldn’t do that if the integrity of this historical home were to be preserved.

  I don’t have time for this.

  It had been a mentally exhausting week for Brinley. She had spent the entire week dealing with a squabbling contractor and designer rushing to complete her new house. Add to that the paperwork required to purchase Brooks Renovations, stocks and all, from Dad. As nice and as generous as Dad was, he wasn’t about to give away his pet company for next to nothing. The multimillion-dollar deal went through in the end, even though Brinley knew the bills from her business attorneys would be tremendous.

  Still, Dad could now continue to support Mom’s expensive buying habits with those extra millions. Market value of the company.

  Thank God it’s done now.

  All she had wanted was to kick back and relax, but that wasn’t meant to be the moment she received Yun’s text this morning.

  Brinley banged on the door again. “Ivan! Lunch is getting cold.”

  A muffled noise. Then: “I’ll eat later.”

  “He’s alive.” Brinley sighed. She went downstairs. “When do they ever grow up?”

  “Men in gene
ral or musicians?” Yun chuckled.

  “Is that an indictment of yourself?”

  “Brin, there is always a child in us, that carefree spirit of wanting everything to be beautiful and nice and lovely. Life is not always that way. Ivan is handling his pain and difficulty badly, but I hope you don’t think all Christians behave this way.”

  “We all have different stages of spiritual maturity. I get that. What I don’t get is this. Why on earth, with God’s power, do we wallow in misery, thinking the world has ended?”

  “The world as Ivan knew it has ended. Violin is all he knows since he was four.”

  “I’m sure he’s more than just a violinist.”

  “You and I know that. But does he?” Yun wheeled toward the kitchen. “We’ll need patience with him.”

  “And prayer.” Brinley followed Yun. At the island, she unpacked the Southern Soul Barbecue boxes.

  “Indeed. Lots of patience and prayer.” Yun headed for her CD player on the counter next to her old refrigerator. “And maybe a slap upside the head.”

  “For sure.” Brinley laughed.

  Yun tried to swap out a CD from her player, but the buttons didn’t work. Brinley stopped divvying up the beef brisket and Brunswick stew to go help her.

  “Looks like it’s broken.” Brinley read the CD cover. Hymns. “Okay. Let’s eat while it’s hot and I’ll play some of these songs for you on the piano. How does that sound?”

  “You don’t have the sheet music.”

  “Not yet. I’ll buy them on my iPad.” Brinley finished plating their lunch, saving some for Ivan in a container. She labeled it with his name and a smiley face on it, and put it as close to the front as possible on a prominent shelf in the refrigerator so he could see it right away the next time he opened the door.

  Yun said the blessing, a long one, longer than her usual mini prayers.

  Brinley listened intently, wondering why it’d taken her this long to kneel at the foot of the cross when all the riches of the universe were right there in the palm of God’s hand. How much of God’s blessings had she missed in her twenty-six years of life?