“What did she say?”
“We didn’t get into specifics, but it’s healthy that she’s looking ahead.”
The call ended, leaving Amy to process what Bernie told her. There had been something different in the agent’s voice. He’d never treated her in such a professional manner.
The interest by the acquisitions editors in New York didn’t erase the reservations about the new novel expressed by Natalie and Ms. Burris at lunch, but it sure helped. Amy decided she would consider what they’d said, but until she received a clear signal from the Lord that she was on the wrong track, she would continue in the same direction.
Ian was at Bobby’s house and Megan was with Alecia. Amy stood in front of the open refrigerator door wishing that Jeff would call and tell her they were going out for supper. Friday night was the time she most wanted to avoid the kitchen. Dining at a restaurant, even if it was only a step above fast food, felt like a reward for making it through another week. She stepped back and let the refrigerator door slowly swing shut, then took out her cell phone and stared at it. The phone vibrated. It was Jeff.
“That is weird,” she said. “I had my phone in my hand hoping you’d call.”
“I can sense your desires within a twenty-five-mile radius of the house. Also, I know how much you like to eat out on Friday night because you’ve told me at least two hundred times during our marriage.”
“Don’t say too much. You’ll lose your brownie points. How far away are you?”
“About ten minutes. I told the kids to leave you notes so you’d know where they were.”
“They did.”
“Where would you like to go? We can swing by and pick up Megan and Ian on the way. How about Mexican? I thought we could go to Los Reyes.”
Amy would agree to any suggestion, so long as someone else cooked the food and brought it to the table.
The Mexican restaurant was a casual place. Amy changed from her work clothes into blue jeans and a sweater she knew Jeff liked. As she buttoned her jeans it seemed she’d lost a couple of pounds since returning to the law office. Even though she’d always been a healthy eater, working kept her from snacking during the day. She sent Megan a text about the plans for supper and called Bobby’s mother to relay the message to Ian. Jeff arrived covered with Sheetrock dust and took a quick shower. As soon as they were in the car, Amy took advantage of the few moments they would have alone.
“I need to tell you about my lunch with Natalie and Ms. Burris.”
When she mentioned Natalie’s desire to publish children’s books, Jeff interrupted.
“Do you think she has a chance?”
“She’s a good artist, and illustrations are the key with children’s books. A decent story with great illustrations has a better shot than a good story with lousy pictures. And if I can get a publishing contract, then she could, too. But that’s not the main thing. I told Natalie and Ms. Burris about my new novel, and they didn’t like it.”
“Why?”
Amy explained as best she could the women’s concerns.
“It really shook my confidence,” she said.
“Yeah, but you’re the writer, and you should do what you think is best.”
“I also got a call from Bernie. He sent the synopsis for Deeds of Darkness to some acquisitions editors with publishers in New York and received encouraging feedback, especially from one woman.”
As Amy repeated the rest of the conversation, she saw Jeff’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. She hesitated before mentioning the possibility of a six-figure advance but felt that it wouldn’t be right to hold back important information. Jeff didn’t try to hide his shock.
“Amy,” he said, then shut his mouth.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, “but I can’t let money dictate what I do.”
“Bernie isn’t talking about money dictating what you do.” Jeff shook his head. “If that’s how much a publisher would pay, I’d rather you make a hundred thousand dollars than another writer. I can’t imagine that much money landing in our bank account. What would we do with it?”
Amy hadn’t thought that far ahead, either. They turned into the driveway at the Pickenses’ house. Ian and Bobby were throwing a football in the front yard. Ian ran over to the car and opened the door.
“Let Bobby’s mother know that you’re leaving,” Amy said.
Ian yelled at Bobby, “Tell your mom that my parents picked me up, and I wasn’t kidnapped by Mexican drug dealers.”
“What are you talking about?” Amy asked when Ian was inside the car.
“You told Mrs. Pickens that we were going to eat Mexican food for supper,” Ian answered.
“And why did that make you think about being kidnapped by Mexican drug dealers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Amy said.
Ian didn’t respond. He was making a face at Bobby through the car window. Amy thought about her new novel. When Ian became the object of a fictitious plot to kidnap him and drag him across the border, Amy disliked the idea more than Natalie and Ms. Burris.
Amy woke up Saturday morning at the usual time, but then, realizing she didn’t have to go to work, she rolled over and slept blissfully for another thirty minutes. When she awoke again, Jeff’s spot in the bed was empty. She went downstairs and found him in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading his Bible. Amy poured a cup.
“Mind if I sit down?” she asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s okay.” Jeff slid the Bible away.
“What are you reading?” Amy asked after she sat next to him.
“Doing my own study,” Jeff replied cryptically. He took a sip of coffee. “I’ve had second thoughts about the way I handled the meeting the other day at the school.”
“Did Megan say anything to you?” Amy asked.
“No. What got me started was the verse you’re using in your new book, the one about exposing the deeds of darkness. It made me ask myself about any darkness in me. The first thing that came up was how I felt toward Nate Drexel and what he did to Megan.”
After fifteen years of marriage, Jeff could still surprise Amy. Ninety-five percent of the time he was completely predictable, but when he varied from his usual pattern, the results could be startling.
“What he did was terrible,” Jeff continued. “But I went into the meeting thinking it was my job to make sure he knew how bad it was. That’s God’s job, not mine. Trying to impose my will even if I’m sincere and it’s for a good cause isn’t the way real repentance works.”
“Where did you find that?”
“In Romans it says that God’s kindness leads to repentance. There was nothing kind in my heart or mind when I walked into the door of the school. I’m not even sure what God’s kindness would have looked like.”
Amy took a bigger sip of coffee. “I admire a man who can repent before eight o’clock in the morning.”
“It shows that the stuff you hear in your dreams isn’t just for you to use in your novels.”
“That’s what Ms. Burris said,” Amy replied, sitting up straighter. “She told me the deeds of darkness might have a practical impact on my life. It wouldn’t be limited to inspiration for a work of fiction that teaches a lesson.”
“And it may not apply to you. I doubt you have any big, bad, dark spots,” Jeff said.
“I do,” Amy replied.
“Name one,” Jeff shot back.
“Charging too much on the credit card,” Amy said. She thought of a few others but didn’t continue.
“That’s not in the dark. I see what you spend every month, and I only brought it up when things were so financially tight before Christmas.”
“Every woman has areas of insecurity where darkness likes to hide.”
“Don’t get superspiritual on me,” Jeff said. “And don’t make anything up. I can tell in half a second if you’re not on the level.”
Amy smiled. “It’s good to
have a personal lie detector test in the house.”
Jeff shook his head. “You’re the most honest person I know.”
Amy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re wrong, but you might want to share some of this with Megan. It would help her, too.” Amy glanced at the clock on the wall of the kitchen. “I’m going to take her to dance practice at nine. I’ll report back to you later about my sins.”
While getting dressed, Amy thought about her fears that lived in the dark. Those things might not be actions, but that didn’t mean they weren’t deeds of darkness. Jeff’s attempt to paint her as pristinely pure was sweet, but darkness hid in every human heart.
Even hers.
twenty
After she dropped Megan off at dance practice, Amy returned home. Jeff and Ian were in the garage cleaning out the back of Jeff’s truck. She pulled in behind them.
“Mom, you’re going to have to move your car,” Ian said. “Dad and I are going to leave as soon as we’re finished.”
“Where?” Amy asked Jeff.
“Over to Calvin Harris’s place in the country.”
“To ride four-wheelers!” Ian added excitedly.
Calvin was a man who worked on Jeff’s crew. Depending on the season of the year, his idea of fun often involved the death of a wild animal.
“There won’t be any guns,” Jeff said, anticipating Amy’s next question. “Several fathers are bringing their sons to ride on a closed course. There will be helmets for everyone, and Ian will be with an adult. I’m not going to let him get in with a teenage driver.”
“Tell her about the mudholes,” Ian said.
Hands on hips, Amy stood with her head tilted to the side. She raised her eyebrows.
“It’s part of the fun,” Jeff said. “They fill up some low spots with water to make it muddy so the four-wheelers will slip and slide a little bit.”
“What if you get stuck?”
“There’s a winch they hook onto a tree to pull us out. But most of the trail is through the woods. There’s even a place at the top of a hill to get out and enjoy the view.”
“What happens to the mud that gets thrown up by the tires? Where does it go?”
“Ian is wearing old clothes, and I have a different outfit for him on the floorboard of the truck. There’s an old hunting cabin nearby where he can clean up and change when we finish.”
“Does this cabin have hot water?”
“Not unless we fire up the propane water heater. I’ll ask Calvin to do that if he hasn’t already thought about it.”
Amy wasn’t buying Jeff’s idyllic interpretation of the planned activities. Nothing from her hidden memory bank of nighttime visions flashed into view with warning signs around it, but there was still a mother’s normal concern about dangerous activities.
“Don’t be running all over the place alone,” Amy said to Ian, whose eyes were electric with excitement. “And wear your seat belt.”
“The driver and passengers are strapped in with a four-point harness,” Jeff said. “It will be safety first and fun second.”
“Dad’s bringing the video camera so we can show you what happens,” Ian said.
“How long will you be gone?” Amy asked.
“Until late this afternoon,” Jeff replied. “We’re going to cook over an open fire for lunch. With a quiet house all to yourself, I thought you could get a lot of writing done.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“It was a last-minute discussion at work yesterday, and Calvin only confirmed everything with me after you left with Megan. I didn’t want to mention it to Ian and get his hopes up if we weren’t going to go.”
Ian came over and gave Amy a hug.
“Don’t worry, Mom. Bobby has a video game with four-wheelers in it. I’ve been practicing, but it’s going to be way more fun to do the real thing.”
Jeff and Ian got in the truck and backed down the driveway. Amy knew they were about to create a memory that Ian would never forget. She went inside the quiet house and poured herself a second cup of coffee. If she didn’t have to write, she would enjoy putting her feet up in the family room and staring absentmindedly out into space. Instead, she carefully carried the cup of coffee up the steep stairs and turned on her computer.
After bowing her head for a brief prayer, Amy started working in earnest on the first chapter of the new novel. Typically, the chapters in her books were between three thousand and four thousand words. Writing nine thousand to twelve thousand words in two weeks while continuing to work at the law office, fulfill her duties as a wife and mother, and overcome the seeds of doubt sown by Natalie and Ms. Burris was daunting. Adding to the pressure was the fact that it always took longer to complete the early chapters of a manuscript. The setup of the story, like the foundation for a house, needed to be solid so it could support the remainder of the novel. It was also important to layer in foreshadowing of events that would be revealed at a later time.
Amy had done a lot of brainstorming in preparing the synopsis and written a rough draft of the opening scene. Much of that scene could be used; however, it didn’t include the teenage niece. The first thing she did was rewrite the scene to include the niece sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the second bedroom beside Roxanne’s baby boy. The presence of the older girl immediately created another basis of sympathy for Roxanne. Not only was she a young mother cruelly deprived of a husband’s love and help, she was willing to share the slender crust of bread she had left with a vulnerable girl in even greater need. A good story is built on a protagonist the reader wants to root for—a person whose budding goodness can be fully forged in the furnace of affliction provided by the plot. Based on that formula, Roxanne was an ingot with unlimited potential.
The identification Amy felt with the main character as she wrote was encouraging. She was able to transfer her own feelings directly to the page, particularly when describing the sense of abandonment Roxanne experienced because her wrongly imprisoned husband was absent from the family. To communicate emotion at a deep level so early in a story was a new phenomenon for Amy.
After writing almost fifteen hundred words, she saved the file and closed her laptop. She glanced at a digital clock on a small desk against the wall. She’d been working almost three hours; however, the intensity of her concentration made the time pass quickly.
Driving to the studio, Amy decided to take Megan out to lunch. It wouldn’t be as dramatic an outing as Ian’s four-wheeling adventure, but it would send a message to Megan that Amy wanted to be with her and do what she wanted to do. When Amy arrived at the studio, she came face-to-face with Greg Ryan.
“Mr. Ryan,” Amy said in surprise.
“Mrs. Clarke, how are you?” Ryan smiled broadly. “I stopped by for a few minutes to watch Megan and one of the other girls dance. Megan told me about the routine they were working on, and it sounded cool.”
Amy nodded her head. Ryan glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m sure Megan told you about the meeting with Nate Drexel.”
“Yes.”
“How did she feel about it? I haven’t had a chance to follow up with her.”
Amy was determined not to say anything negative about Jeff.
“There were some positives. We’ll see what happens from here. Megan appreciated you being there for her.”
“She’s a great kid, and it’s easy to want to help that kind of student.” Ryan lowered his voice and leaned in a bit closer. “I know your husband was upset, and I don’t blame him. I tried to imagine how I’d feel in his shoes.”
Megan came running up. She’d changed from her leotards into street clothes.
“Thanks for coming, Mr. Ryan,” she said. “I’ll let you know when Ms. Carlton schedules the real performance.”
“I hope I can make it. I know you’ll be fantastic.” Ryan nodded to Amy. “Nice talking to you.”
The teacher left. Megan ran over and picked up her gym ba
g.
“Isn’t he the best ever?” Megan said when she returned.
“Who else did he come to watch?” Amy asked.
“Molly Prichard,” Amy replied. “She’s in his senior seminar class. I hope he’s still at the school when I’m a senior. It would be awesome to have him one-on-one.”
“Where would you like to eat lunch?” Amy asked once they were in the car. “Dad and Ian went four-wheeling.”
Megan was texting on her phone. She looked up.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I’d like to take you out for lunch. What sounds good to you?”
Before Megan answered, Amy’s phone beeped. It was Jeff.
“Hello,” she said.
“We’re on our way to the hospital,” Jeff said. “It looks like Ian may have broken his left arm.”
“What?”
“He hit his arm on a tree.”
“Are you in an ambulance?” Amy asked frantically.
“No, I’m taking him. I should be at the ER in less than five minutes if you can meet us there.”
“I’m on my way.”
“What happened?” Megan asked.
“Ian may have a broken arm. We’ve got to go to the hospital.”
“Can you take me home first?” Megan asked. “It’s not that far out of the way, and you could be stuck at the hospital for hours.”
Amy stared at Megan as if her daughter were an alien transported into the car from another planet.
“Are you serious?” she asked in a shrill voice.
“What can I do to help? And you know there will be a huge wait. When Crystal broke her arm last year, it took the doctor four hours to set it.”
“Ian is your brother!”
Megan turned away and looked out the window. Amy sped out of the parking lot. Neither spoke.
“All right,” Amy said abruptly when they reached the entrance to their neighborhood. “I’ll drop you off at the house. But I can’t believe you don’t care more about your brother.”
“I care, but there’s nothing I can do. When he comes home and needs something, I’ll be there for him.”
Amy let Megan out of the car at the end of their driveway. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Megan with her cell phone to her ear walking nonchalantly toward the house.
The Living Room Page 20
