by Robert Elmer
“Good night, Lord,” Olivia began, “and thank You for the lake and the mountains and the rivers and the sky—”
“You don’t have to thank God for all that,” Abby interrupted. “He knows—”
“It’s my turn to pray!” Olivia said, not backing down. “You prayed last night, and tonight you just have to shut up!”
“Olivia.” Will stepped in to referee. “We don’t say shut up. Where did you learn that? Abby, let her finish.”
Abby frowned but closed her eyes again, letting Olivia start over. And she did, restating her thanks for the lake and all the rest. Abby pretended to snore.
“Abby… “Will warned quietly. Olivia didn’t seem to notice.
‘And I pray that Michael would come back home right away,” Olivia prayed. “Also that Mommy wouldn’t be so tired and sick all the time, that You would make her feel better, and that You would help the baby inside her grow big and strong.”
Will nodded his agreement. That would be nice.
“And please help Aunt Sydney to be a Christian…”
This was getting deep.
“Help Abby not to be so snotty all the time.
He peeked at the older sibling, but she’d already laid her head back on the pillow, her mouth open in sleep. She looked too much like her mother when she did that.
“… and please help Daddy not to be so sad,” Olivia concluded, “because I just know You’re going to make Mom better. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
For a brief moment, before the amen evaporated, Will entertained the idea of staying in Abby and Olivia’s Pollyanna world just a little bit longer. What would it take to own the kind of faith that seemed to come so naturally to Merit and their daughters?
“Tell us a story before you go, Dad?” Olivia’s voice sounded heavier, farther away. She was fading fast. “One where they live happily ever after?”
Will wasn’t sure he knew how that kind of story went anymore.
“Maybe tomorrow, Liv.” He forced a smile in the darkened room and mussed Olivias hair, then gave them both a kiss. “Maybe tomorrow.”
twenty-three
God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in
order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I
who didnt.
C. S. LEWIS
Will stood at their dining room window a week later, ignoring it’s taped-over crack in favor of the view of the lake beyond. He twirled a postcard from Michael between his fingers.
Not an e-mail, not a phone call, just a postcard of a dated aerial view of downtown Walnut Creek, California, taken before several twenty-story office buildings had sprung up and changed the city’s landscape forever.
“Where did you get that?” For a woman early in her pregnancy, Merit could sure sneak up on a man. He jumped, and she giggled—which was nice, since no one had been much into giggling lately.
“You’re always doing that to me!” He turned around and displayed the card.
“I don’t know where Michael finds those old things.” She took it from him and began to read. “So he still has his job, after all,” she mumbled, scanning the message. “You think Stephanie will want to know?”
“Stephanie?” Will acted surprised, though he shouldn’t have bothered. They both knew.
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t see something going on when he was here. They spent almost every afternoon together.”
“Maybe, but they didn’t seem to have much in common. I think she annoyed him.”
“Don’t be silly,” Merit said. “Stephanie’s such a sweet girl. They would make—”
“Stop right there,” he interrupted. “Lets not get into the matchmaking business. I don’t think that’s our job.”
“I ‘m not matchmaking. I just want to make sure our son realizes when a young lady is interested in him. What if he comes for another visit?”
“Then he does, dear. But it’s none of our business one way or the other. And besides, I’m pretty glad I couldn’t talk him into staying on with us.”
Merit lowered the postcard and looked at him. “You meant that the other way around, didn’t you?”
He’d been waiting for the right time to tell her his idea, and this looked like it to him.
“No. I meant what I said. Because here’s what I think we need to do, Merit…”
She leaned against the back of the couch, chin in her hands, as if bracing for another hit.
“Listen, I’ll just come out and say it.” He had to. This was for her own good. “I’ve been thinking hard about this, so I called up the real estate agent in Coeur d’Alene, the one Uncle Fred dealt with when we bought the place. He understands that things can change, and he thinks if we put this place on the market right now for a low enough price, we could probably turn it around in a matter of weeks, maybe days, and cut our losses. Then we can get you back to Walnut Creek, where they can take care of you—and the baby—much better. I even called Bruce at the office, and he told me he’d take me back with open arms whenever I wanted, part-time if I needed, at first.”
He expected a reaction, just not the one he got.
Merit stared at him with blazing eyes, then wadded up the postcard from Michael and threw it in his face.
“Walnut Creek?” she nearly screamed at him. That couldn’t be good for a pregnant woman, could it? “Are you crazy?”
Will raised his hands for protection, but he was too late. The postcard hit him in the eye.
“Hey! What are you doing? I’m just trying to think about what’s best, Merit.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Come on.” He felt the heat rising in his face, and his words came out like bullets. “You know that some of the best hospitals in the country are in the Bay Area. You’d have a much better chance down there than we do here.”
“Oh, so now we’re playing the chances, are we?” Her face had turned as red as his. “There’s nothing wrong with the hospital in Coeur d’Alene. You act like it’s some kind of hillbilly clinic.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Of course you did! You dragged me up here, kicking and screaming, then I fall in love with the place, and now you want to give it all up?”
“Looks like that decision’s already been made for me,” he snapped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you want me to spell it out for you, Merit?” He punctuated his words with a wave of his hands. “You have leukemia, you’re pregnant, and it’s going to get worse every day.”
“Pregnancy gets worsei That’s not the word I would have used.”
“You’re twisting things. You know exactly what I meant. The point is, you need a lot more help and support than we can give you here, so—”
She tried to interrupt but he talked over her.
“— so I think we made a huge mistake bringing the family here—bringing you here—and now the only thing we can do is take a step back and deal with this situation with the best resources we can find.”
How could she not see the logic in that?
Merit shook her head. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asked, setting her jaw.
“What’s there to get?”
“God moved us here for a reason, even if we don’t see it yet.”
He started to groan but bit his tongue. “Let’s not bring God into this again. That’s way too convenient.”
“It is not too convenient. In fact, it’s not convenient at all, the way I see it.”
“How do you see it? Are you even thinking about how I might feel?” Will asked.
“How you feel? Since when is this about how you feel?”
Will rolled his eyes and sighed. This was like trying to reason with a can of paint.
“Okay, Merit. Can we agree we have to think this through?”
“Sure, but—”
“Use our brains. The doctor said—”
“I know what the doctor said.” She
sounded ready to spit. “But I am not going to let you run at the first sign of trouble. I’m not going to let you do that, Will Sullivan. I still believe God moved us here, no matter what you say.”
“Yeah, great argument.” He crossed his arms and hid his hands so she couldn’t see him making fists. His head throbbed. “Pretty nice when you can just spiritualize it and hide behind God. Easy out.”
She looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. But he’d expected that to happen, and she couldn’t make him take it back, not a word of it.
“Will, please tell me you didn’t mean that.”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t look away.
“You love this place,” she said, her voice softening, “don’t you?”
Will turned to look out the window, away from the woman he loved more than his own life. Would he trade places with her? In a heartbeat. Did he love this place? Without a doubt. But that wasn’t the question here. Why couldn’t she see that?
He uncrossed his arms, let his hands dangle, and dropped his shoulders.
“Whether I love this place or not,” he began, his voice almost matching hers, “it doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t you see, Merit? It’s not about what I love. It’s about who?
Neither of them spoke until he felt her arms slip around his waist and draw him close. She wouldn’t be able to do that much longer before someone came between them.
Her voice came in a hoarse whisper. “Sometimes you’re totally impossible, Will Sullivan. But you’re my knight in shining armor, and you always will be. Always.”
“I sure don’t feel like one.”
“Shh.” She turned him around and planted a finger on his lips to silence further protest. “Listen to me. Please listen to me. It was no mistake to come here and we can’t go backward. We can’t go back to the Bay Area. I want to live in this place with you for the rest of my life, however long that is, Will. Eight months or eighty years. Please? We can’t sell this place. It would never be the right thing to do. I just know it.”
Will had seen more tears this past month than in the past twenty-four years of marriage combined—except, maybe, for their first month of marriage, which didn’t count. Despite this, his heart melted as he traced the warm track of Merit’s tear with his finger.
“I’d already made up my mind,” he said. “I was going to be the strong head of the house and make an executive decision for you and for our family.”
She nodded and looked up at him, a sob catching in her throat. “And what is best for our family?”
Will held her in his arms, fighting the answer, wrestling the truth—whatever it was.
He sighed. “Sometimes you make me so angry, Merit.”
She nodded. “I know. Likewise.”
“Other times, I feel like I’d walk through fire to make you happy.”
The corners of her lips turned up in a small Merit smile. “Say that again, mister.”
“Don’t push your luck. Most of the time you just puzzle me, like there’s something driving you I’ve never quite been able to understand or tap into.”
“Like now?”
“Like now.”
He paused and she didn’t pull away from him.
“You never answered my question, Will. What’s the best thing for our family?”
He kissed the last of Merit’s tears from her cheeks and forced himself not to think about how much longer he’d be able to hold her this way. Finally he sighed, knowing he couldn’t win this battle, and not knowing if he really wanted to.
“We’ll stay,” he whispered. “How can I say no to you?”
“You can’t.”
He breathed in her sweet scent and buried his face in her hair.
Someone knocked on their front door. “Mrs. Sullivan?”
Stephanie.
Will backed away from his wife, wishing he could hold her just a little longer. Maybe take an entire weekend to hold her. The knock at the door came again.
“Just a minute, Stephanie,” Merit called. “I’ll be right there.”
But not before she grabbed Will and gave him a kiss that nearly knocked him over.
“I love you forever, Will Sullivan,” she told him, their noses almost touching. “And no matter what happens, you’d better not forget it.”
“Who said anything about forgetting?” He squeezed her hands, knowing the subject of moving away would never come up again—not like this.
As Merit headed for the door, she paused to retrieve the crumpled postcard she’d thrown at Will.
“Stephanie!” she called as she reached the door. “Are you still there?”
“Still here, Mrs. Sullivan.”
Merit looked at Will and winked. “Good. Because you’re fired.”
Will blinked. “What did you just tell her?” he asked.
Merit laughed and pulled open the door.
“I’m really sorry, uh…Merit.” The expression on Stephanie’s face matched Will’s own. “It’s just hard for me to get used to calling you that.”
Merit chuckled. Whatever hurt on the inside, his wife put on a convincing show.
“As long as you’re working on it, Miss Unruh.”
“Please,” Stephanie said, getting into the game. “Just call me Stephanie.”
Merit laughed, and it seemed to melt away some of the gloom. “I’m glad you came by,” she replied.
Of course, just a little later would have been nice. Will thought, but he didn’t mention that.
Merit smiled and lifted the postcard. “I just got something in the mail, and I thought you might want to see it.”
twenty-four
Sisters never quite forgive each other for what happened when
they were five.
PAM BROWN
No, I hadn’t heard.” Sydney sat in her orange beanbag chair on the floor, yoga-style, stirring her chamomile tea. “Should I have?”
“Not necessarily,” replied Merit. “I just thought, you know, word gets around in a small town like Kokanee Cove. Will and I are still getting used to it ourselves.”
“And you mention this because…”
“Because I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
Merit shivered despite the late morning sun heating up her sister’s trailer. What was it about this place that gave her the creeps? It could have been the smell of incense, the crystals, or the seasick feeling she got twirling around in the hanging wicker chair that looked like a New Age parakeet cage.
Making her the parakeet.
“I see.” Sydney took another sip of her tea. “Of course, I don’t know much about rumors. I suppose it depends on who you tell.”
“For instance?”
“For instance, Foster Mooney at the Mercantile. He knows everybody’s business, more than a man has a right to. If you want a rumor started, I suggest you talk to him. As for me…”
“I think he is a nice man. He and Stephanie seem to get along, with the birds and all.”
Sydney sniffed and Merit leaned forward to hear better.
“I haven’t bought anything at the Mercantile in years,” Sydney said. “I just drop off my dreamcatchers there for the UPS man to pick up.”
“That’s right. I forgot you sell those. Do you place an ad in a magazine?”
Sydney nodded. “Mother Earth News. I’ve run a classified ad in the back for ten years. I get orders.”
“But the Mercantile—why don’t you shop there?”
“I’ve asked Foster to carry more organic foods, but he always laughs and tells me they’re too expensive. He has no idea what kind of pesticides and hormones his produce has.”
“Organic foods are good,” Merit said, trying to agree with her sister on something.
“How expensive can poor health be, I ask you? All these things the government slips into the food chain to quiet the masses—next they’ll be fluoridating the water. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
Not again. Merit hadn’t stopped by for a diat
ribe on global warming and the latest conspiracy theory.
“Oh dear, Sydney.” She tried to extricate herself from the wicker chair as well as the direction the conversation had taken. “You seem to know a lot more about these things than I do.”
“You got that right, Sister.” Sydney took a deep breath. “I just don’t know when we’re going to stop depleting the planet’s resources and overloading our population.”
Merit gave up trying to escape the chair and faced her older sister squarely. “Is that what you think Will and I are doing by having another child? overpopulating the planet?”
Sydney’s face flushed. “No, I didn’t mean—”
Merit wasn’t through. “Well, that’s pretty ironic, coming from a woman who lives in a town of five hundred people, out in the middle of nowhere. Overpopulating, huh?”
“That’s exactly the kind of attitude we need to change,” Sydney fired back. “Just because it’s not a problem in northern Idaho doesn’t mean we don’t need to meet our global responsibilities.”
Merit snorted. “So you don’t eat red meat, you recycle, and you meditate on world peace, just the way Mom and Dad taught you, and that makes everything right.”
“You don’t need to bring Mom and Dad into this, Merit. Just because you never saw things their way—”
“You got that right. The original hippies. Beatniks, or whatever they called themselves.”
“You’ve got to deal with that negative energy, dear. Otherwise—”
“Like they did? I guess they were dealing with their own negative energy when they dragged us to that awful commune in Mendocino. I don’t know how I survived.”
Sydney blanched.
“What?” Merit asked.
“You remember that place?” Sydney whispered.
“Barely. I was only six, so you must have been sixteen. Not a very good memory for you, either?”
“Ha.” Sydney looked away. “You have no idea.”
Merit studied her older sister for a moment, trying to decipher the comment. “Care to enlighten me?”
“No.” Sydney shook her head. “It was a long time ago. Let’s just say I learned early that men can be pigs.”
