Salem's Daughters
Page 5
He set them down and shuffled through the mess of other various documents. “And somewhere in here are bills for two cars payments and five credit cards. Not to mention our home equity line of credit.”
Bob looked around the well-furnished house. “Look at all this furniture we bought. Unbelievable. What were we thinking? We might have to sell everything. We’ll have to eat and sleep on the floor.”
He looked directly at Debbie. For the first time since she had met him, she was genuinely startled. Dark circles formed around his eyes. He had lost ten pounds off an already lean frame and he was in dire need of a haircut.
Bob continued his unblinking gaze. “We’re in deep trouble.”
Debbie refused to quit. She felt her heart jump. A problem? A challenge? She was up to it. And she would pull Bob up from his dark pit of despair.
“Something will break. If today is problematic, then tomorrow is a brand new day full of opportunities.”
She reached across the table and held his hand. “Don’t worry, Papa Bear. Something amazing will open up for the both of us. I promise.”
Bob pulled back and scrolled through his tablet. “I called everyone I know—family, friends, Pastor Thompson. People from high school and college. I thought for sure I could get another job. But nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. That jerk Rotten Ronnie blacklisted me. I don’t think I can get a job, at least not here in Grand Rapids.”
“What about Detroit?”
“Tried. Nothing.”
“Chicago? Cleveland, maybe?”
“Too far of a commute. We’d have to sell the house and move there. After I find employment first.”
He tossed the bills on the table. “How about you? How’s your job search going?”
Debbie fidgeted, then sipped her coffee. “Nada for me as well. Seems like Bernie Butthead blacklisted me, too.”
Bob gave her a stern look. “You should show respect for those who signed your paycheck, regardless of how difficult of a personality they are.”
Debbie cupped her chin in her hands. “He’s still a royal butthead.”
“What about Linda and Old Country Tuscany Olive Oil?”
Debbie knew Bob was getting desperate. He had not asked about her business venture during the past thirty days.
“The bank won’t include me on the loan docs. Linda, Janette, and Monica waited two weeks for us to get new jobs.” Debbie sighed. “But they had to move forward without me.”
Bob stood to stretch and yawned. “You’re right. We need to get out of the house.”
Debbie wasn’t about to let an opportunity pass. She stood and met her husband before he could change his mind. “Great idea. And, as your wife, I submit to your authority. Let’s see a movie.”
Bob shook his head and scratched his facial stubble. “No can do. Movies cost money. But, we can take that walk.”
Debbie knew when to concede and find the middle ground. “Okay, a walk it is, hubby of mine. But only after you take a shower. And please, a shave? And after that, I’m giving you a haircut.”
Chapter 7 Now or Never
Bob plopped the stack of bills on the kitchen table. He didn’t bother to open the new ones that came in the morning’s mail. The pile was larger than last month’s.
Adding to their financial dilemma were new expenses. Four new tires for Debbie’s car. Fixing a slab leak under the living room. Carpet cleaning and water damage bills. A risky investment in a stock that went south. These unforeseen costs added to his stress and eroded away two months’ worth of savings.
He looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall: 11:08 a.m. He and Debbie were still in their bathrobes. Debbie’s inherent enthusiasm and encouragement waned as they accepted summer was coming to a close, as were opportunities for finding a decent job. Hiring for good positions in Michigan was largely seasonal, and once summer ended, so did the probability of going back to work.
Bob rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked up at Debbie as she sipped her first cup of coffee. His always positive and forward moving wife was beginning to look a bit haggard. But of course he would never tell her that. Bob couldn’t think of anything else to say. Better to let her start the conversation.
“It’s Labor Day weekend, sweetie. Come on. Let’s do something fun,” Debbie muttered. “Anything. I have to admit, I’m frustrated. This summer has been a roller coaster of emotions.”
“Welcome to my world. No money, honey. I’m looking at the numbers. Our savings is dwindling faster than expected. At this rate, we’ll last another month. Maybe two. And that’s all.”
Debbie rubbed her head and massaged her fingers deep into her scalp, making even more a mess of her hair.
“And then what?”
“Then,” Bob said in a reserved manner, having accepted what he thought was inevitable. “We’ll have to put our house up for sale.”
Debbie pushed her chair back and stood. “No. That’s unacceptable. Something will break. Trust me. Tomorrow’s a new day. No way are we selling our house.”
Bob noticed Debbie had far less conviction in her words. But his honey was trying. He admired her eternal optimism and desire to push forward.
That’s one of the allures that caused him to fall in love with the ravishing, blonde haired, hazel eyed beauty. He stood and walked around the table and held Debbie in a Tango pose, his six foot two frame rising almost a foot above her.
“Listen to me. We have to be realistic about our situation. We can’t risk going into foreclosure and losing what little equity we have. The bank, they’ll short sell our house and recoup what’s owed and that’s all.
“The greedy bastards won’t care about our assets. They’ll look out for their best interests, not ours. And without jobs, we can’t pull any money out of the house. You have to understand, this is the way the world works.”
Debbie forced Bob to lead her into a horizontal dip. “I say we hold out. So what if we get behind on payments. If the bank short sells our house, we can legally live here for months.”
Bob pulled her up and gave her a quick spin. “No. We can’t have bad credit or bankruptcy. Not an option.”
“So where does this leave us?”
Bob reached with one arm and picked up the pile of bills, held them level to Debbie, then tipped his hand and dropped them in a cascading free fall. “We have enough cash left for one last mortgage and utilities. Car payments. Credit cards. Student loans, too. That’s it. You need to be realistic and face the facts. This is our reality. Right here. Right now.”
Debbie, still in Bob’s other arm, snapped her fingers. “Job prospects. What do we have?”
Bob snapped his fingers back in a mocking fashion. “Not a damn thing. What do you have?”
Debbie had to laugh. “Nothing.”
Bob returned to his normal self. “Same as me. Nothing.”
Debbie, submissive but not quite ready to relent, peered through sleepy and sultry Marilyn Monroe bedroom eyes. “So, Mr. Numbers Man with all the answers, what do we do now?”
Bob had to take charge and fight off his urge to spend another day with Debbie cooped up inside the house. Not that he was complaining, but he did need to balance pleasure with business. He released Debbie from their tango pose.
“You need to follow my lead. We did things your way over the summer. And you did your best. I love you dearly for that. But these are the facts and I need to take action.”
Debbie sat back down and sipped her coffee. “Okay, you win. I’m on board. What do you think we need to do? I’ll follow your lead. You know I trust you.”
Bob flipped the wall calendar one month forward and wrote a large X with a red pen. “I’m setting a goal of thirty days from today. If we both don’t have good jobs, then we’ll run out of cash. We will miss November’s mortgage payment.”
Debbie folded her arms on the kitchen table and buried her head.
“For now, save everything.” Bob sighed. “We’ll have to go to food banks at local churches.”
Bob placed his hands up to slow her down. “I know. We’ll go to Battle Creek and visit the Catholic churches.”
Debbie wagged her head, then clutched Bob’s hand. “That’s it. No more. I can’t deal with this. We need an escape. This is Labor Day Weekend. Go take a shower and get dressed. Right now.”
“Where are we going?”
“For a drive.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m packing a picnic basket with leftovers from the fridge. And a couple bottles of wine. Now get moving. One hour. Then we hit the road.”
Chapter 8 The Vision
Bob drove his Ford Escape. It was more fuel efficient than Debbie’s Explorer. For no particular reason, he took US Route 131 South. They had no destination in mind for their outdoor excursion. He assumed Debbie would know it when she saw it. His job was to drive.
“Anything you need, babe?”
Debbie shook her head without turning her gaze from the rural scenery. “No. I’m enjoying the drive. The countryside is so relaxing.”
Debbie was happy soaking in the scenery and Bob wasn’t complaining. He didn’t feel like talking. There were times, they had agreed, when saying nothing was preferable to speaking. This was Debbie’s way of silently venting and releasing the bad emotions and frustrations she had been channeling since the loss of their jobs.
Ahead, a large green sign loomed over the freeway and signaled the I-96 Interchange, along with the major exits for downtown Kalamazoo. He switched highways and drove east. The time was spent in a peacefulness that can only come from an absence of conversation. Thirty minutes later they were just outside Battle Creek.
“Let’s get off here,” Debbie said as she sat up straight. “I’ve always liked the country roads and rolling hills along the Kalamazoo River. We’ll find a really nice place to have our picnic.”
Bob exited onto a two-lane road as it cut across Southern Michigan in an east-west direction toward Marshall. “Where to now?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s just keep driving. Maybe we’ll stop in Marshall. I’ve always liked the town fountain. They light it up at night and play music. It’s a lot of fun. Maybe that will help cheer us up.”
Bob had to admit Debbi had the right idea. This was a perfect way on a perfect day to help forget the stress of running out of money. Lush verdant grass and trees still in full green bloom were framed by a deep blue early afternoon sky, accentuated by a few silver feathery cirrus clouds.
“I’m really enjoying this ride in the country. The weather is pleasant, unseasonably cool and lower humidity than normal for this time of year.” He turned off the air conditioning and lowered the front windows.
Debbie stared out on the picturesque landscape and sighed. “This stretch of countryside is untouched by development, strip malls, and planned communities. I hope it stays this way forever.”
Debbie was starting to perk up. The eternal optimist couldn’t stay down for long. She always saw opportunity when most people only saw gloom and doom. The area was magical, Bob thought, like an island protected from encroaching civilization and all the horrors it brought. Out here, there were no corporations with a Rotten Ronnie or Phil—the trusted family ‘friend’—to stab you in the back.
Together, they admired and appreciated the farm houses and barns. There were new fixtures mixed with the old. Names of the families who owned the properties, painted on the roofs of barns, shouted with pride to those driving by.
Debbie took a few pictures with her iPhone. “Bob, look how nice that house is. And check out the size of the front yard. It’s bigger than the block we live on.”
“We’ll be saying used to live next month.”
Debbie punched his shoulder. “Stop it. You have to think positive. Just follow my lead.”
Bob smirked at Debbie and relented. “Yeah, it’s big. And I know what you’re thinking. However, I don’t want to live in the country.”
“And I know what you’re thinking. Bob, it’s not like we’d be isolated. These are small farms, maybe a hundred acres or less. They’ve probably been in their family for generations. Look, I can see more houses in front and in back of us.
“It’s not like there aren’t other people around. And there are towns close by. We just left Battle Creek. Marshall is about fifteen minutes forward. I bet we could find a place for a lot less money than what our house cost. What do you think?”
Bob squirmed in his seat. “Mmm, I don’t know. What if the local kinfolk kidnap and sacrifice us to their corn gods?”
Debbie delivered a more forceful punch to Bob’s shoulder as he burst out laughing. “Work with me. Just look at all the wild flowers. Honey, it’s so beautiful out here.”
Bob was still laughing at his joke when they came upon an old abandoned burned down house and barn. He dropped his speed to take a better look.
“Wow. Would you take a look at that place? What a dump.”
Debbie craned her neck to look over Bob and through the driver’s side window. “Looks like it burned down, except for a small section of the barn and parts of the house.”
“I wonder what’s holding up the remaining section. It looks like it’ll collapse any minute.”
“I think that was the kitchen. Pull over.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. I feel lured to this place for some reason. And I’m hungry. We’ll spread our blanket on the front lawn. Besides, we can look at this old burned down home and be thankful that we’re not this bad off.”
His better judgment telling him to keep going, Bob felt his stomach growl and surrendered to Debbie’s idea. He pulled in the gravel driveway overgrown with tall grass, took out the blanket, and laid it in the front yard. Debbie placed the picnic basket in the center.
Bob looked at the rubble again. “Yep. It’s a real dump. But you’re right. I do feel better. And not because we don’t live here. I’m actually enjoying our time in the country.”
Debbie finished setting out the plates, homemade chicken, and various leftovers sealed in Tupperware. Bob felt a second grumble in his stomach, held Debbie’s hand, and said a rushed prayer.
“Thank you Lord for this food and bless it to our use. Thank you for taking care of us during this difficult time.” He lifted an eye to the wreckage of a house and said with a grin, “And thank you we don’t live in a dump like this. Amen.”
Debbie took a chicken breast and giggled. “This place does look pretty bad. Compared to it, we have it pretty good. I think.”
Debbie started to bite into a chicken breast, then took another look at the place. She set her food down and walked toward the foundation.
“Um, what are you doing?”
“I’m not sure. I feel a pull, like I want to investigate this place.” She stepped up and onto the concrete slab and looked around. “I hope no one died in the fire.”
“I’m sure who ever lived here got out okay,” Bob said through a mouthful of chicken.
“You know, I think I can see beyond the charred piles of wood and broken furniture. This place was pretty big.” Debbie started pacing back and forth from end to end. “This was two stories. I bet it was around five thousand square feet. At least.”
“Be careful,” Bob said. “Stay away from the structure still standing. It looks like it’s going to collapse any minute.”
He joined her and tossed his chicken bone in the rubble. Debbie gave him a look.
“What?” Bob shrugged. “This place is a dump.”
Debbie continued her self-guided tour. “I wonder if the family had children. They must have. I mean, just look at how big this must have been. There could have been as many as ten bedrooms.”
“Yeah. Maybe. After all, there’s a big barn and lots of land. Maybe they were farmers. Families had lots of kids a hundred years ago to help work the f
ields. My grandfather was raised on a farm. He had eleven siblings. There were two sets of twins. Granddad was one.”
Debbie balanced a smile and a shudder. “As bad as I want kids, I couldn’t imagine a family that size. I’d never leave the kitchen.”
“Except to get back to the bedroom,” Bob said with a devilish wink and a playful squeeze of her rump.
“Bob.” She rolled her eyes and looked skyward, shaking her head. “Men.”
Bob chuckled. It felt good to laugh. “Well now honey, a little levity didn’t hurt, did it? You know we’ll cap ours at four kids. That’s it. Then I get the ol’ snip-snip.”
Debbie went back to being mesmerized by the place. Bob thought she was almost in a trance. Then it hit him. “What are you thinking? No. Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
Debbie twirled, snapping out of her hypnotic state. “You know me all too well, lover.”
Bob took Debbie’s hand and tried to walk back toward his car. “Let’s go. We’ll find another place to finish our picnic.”
Debbie jerked back and then broke free. He was surprised at her—she had never displayed such strength.
Debbie placed her hands over her face like a camera and began to pan the rubble. “Just think about it. We can totally rebuild. I’m sure we can buy it real cheap.”
Bob looked around. “Not cheap enough. It’d have to be practically free. Rebuilding a house from this base of a condition is much more expensive than building a new house.”
“I bet it’s been like this for years. Decades. I mean, just look at this place. Obviously no one has made an offer to buy the property since it burned down, which must have been before we were born. We could come in with a really low offer and see what happens.”
Bob placed his hands on his hips and spread his feet wide as if he was blocking a charging rhinoceros. “No. Absolutely not. I strictly forbid whatever scheme you’re thinking about.”
Debbie was almost gliding between the piles of rubble. “Where do you want to put the kitchen?”