Lambert's Code

by Hauck, Rachel

  “No, we need a break from each other.” The words sank like heavy boulders into her heart.

  He squeezed her fingers. “What do you mean?”

  Clarity braced her. She knew what she had to do. “Ethan, since we’ve been married, all we planned for was our future children and buying an old farmhouse off Craven Hill Road. Now that we don’t have that plan anymore, all we do is pick and fight with each other.”

  “So running off to Florida is going to solve that?”

  “No, I’m not talking about just Florida. I’m going to ask Bobby and Elle if I can stay with them until I go.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Until you go to Florida? That’s three weeks away.”

  She weakened but kept to her decision. “Ethan, we, I, need to get away and think.”

  “Without me?”

  “Without you.”

  ❧

  Ethan positioned his car next to the White Birch covered bridge. Flashlight in hand, he zipped up his jacket and wished he’d remembered a pair of gloves. But even fur-lined leather mitts wouldn’t help against the cold he felt. No, his cold feelings came from the inside, not New Hampshire’s winter night.

  He strolled onto the bridge, the beam of the flashlight covering the ground in front of him. Inside the covered bridge, he ran the light along the length of the rafters, remembering the April evening he’d asked Julie to marry him and how he fell when he tried to carve their initials in the heavy crossbeams.

  Why is it that I’m at odds with the woman I love more than anything?

  An icy breeze cut its way under the bridge. Ethan hunched against the cold. It had been a long time since he leaned on his God for help, but he knew he had no place else to turn.

  “Father, what do I do? I’ve really bungled things with Julie.”

  The image of his wife crying hit his heart as he prayed.

  “How do we get out of this mess?” Ethan hung his head. The flashlight beam illuminated the ground around his feet. Staying with Bobby and Elle. . . I need to get away and think.

  It seemed unreal. The events of the past few weeks eclipsed the years of happiness he shared with Julie. Ethan hated that.

  He stayed on the bridge praying until the cold got to him. He fumbled for his keys as he hustled to the car, slipping on the bridge’s edge where ice had formed.

  A few minutes later, Ethan knocked on the front door of the Lamberts’ home on the hill. He checked his watch and winced. Ten o’clock. Is it too late?

  Grandma opened the door with a big smile. “Ethan, what a nice surprise. Come on in. It’s cold.”

  “Who is it, Bet?” Grandpa made his way from the living room, book dangling from his hand. “Ethan, my boy, you’re out late.”

  “Matt, put another log on the fire.”

  Ethan walked into the living room. His grandparents bustled about, moving in different directions yet seemingly synchronized. Grandpa tossed a log onto the fire, and Grandma worked in the kitchen making hot chocolate.

  “Your dad and mom were over for dinner tonight,” Grandpa said as he returned to his chair, slipping a bookmark into his book.

  “Mom mentioned it.” Ethan stood in the middle of the living room, lost.

  “Are you going to stand all night?” Grandpa motioned toward the couch.

  Ethan removed his coat and took a seat on the sofa.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t come here to see what your grandma made for dinner, did you?”

  Ethan grinned. “No, not really, but what did she make?”

  “Her pot roast.” Grandpa smacked his lips and patted his belly.

  “Sorry I missed it.” Normally the idea of feasting on one of Grandma’s roast beef sandwiches would have Ethan dashing for the kitchen. But tonight, anxiety filled him.

  For a few minutes, he and Grandpa talked Lambert’s Furniture business. The new warehouse plans had been approved, and Will scheduled the groundbreaking for the spring.

  “Will’s doing a great job. I couldn’t be more proud of you boys.”

  Ethan nodded, feeling more shame than pride at the moment. He could run the production department of Lambert’s Furniture without a hitch—organized and efficient. But he couldn’t do the same with his marriage.

  “Here we are.” Grandma rounded the corner with a tray of steaming mugs. “Hot chocolate and cookies.”

  Ethan reached for his mug, though he didn’t feel like he could drink it.

  “What’s on your mind, Ethan?” Grandma perched on the edge of her chair.

  What’s not on my mind? “Not much.”

  “ ‘Not much’ didn’t bring you here at ten o’clock at night.”

  Ethan looked into his grandma’s pretty face with her bow lips and sparkling blue eyes. He’d always wanted his daughter to have those features of Grandma Betty.

  “Julie and I—” His voice broke.

  Grandpa and Grandma waited patiently while he gathered his emotions. Ethan got up and paced in a circle. “I planned a golf trip to Costa Rica and didn’t tell her.”

  Grandpa let out a whistle. “I see you still haven’t figured out Lambert’s Code.”

  Ethan regarded him. “Apparently not.”

  “Matt, let him finish.” Grandma shushed Grandpa with a wave of her hand.

  Ethan stopped in front of the fire, the weekend at Will’s cabin breezing across his mind. “Then she tells me she’s going to Florida with Kit Merewether’s quartet. I told her I didn’t want her to go, and she told me she wanted a break from me.”

  “What does that mean?” Grandma asked.

  Ethan explained Julie’s plan. “She’s going to stay with Bobby and Elle until she leaves for Florida. I was so angry I came to the bridge to think and pray.”

  “Sit over here, Ethan.” Grandma reached across and patted the sofa cushion.

  Ethan obeyed.

  “Your grandpa and I went through a hard time early on in our marriage. We couldn’t agree on anything.” Grandma chuckled, with a look in her eye that told Ethan she was viewing images from her past.

  Grandpa took up the story. “We’d just moved back from Boston. I felt pretty humble over not making it at Harvard, knowing Betty worked harder than I did to make a life for us there.”

  Ethan settled back, listening, letting his soul exhale.

  Grandma nodded. “We lived with my parents. I thought since I’d worked so diligently in Boston, I could make decisions without your grandpa’s input. My father employed both of us at his mill, and I often gave directions to the workers that directly opposed Matt’s.”

  Grandpa laughed. “We charged one customer three different prices for the same cut of lumber.”

  “Oh, and at home, he’d help me with the dinner dishes, telling me I didn’t wash them right.”

  “Didn’t you have Aunt Barbara by then, Grandma?”

  She sipped her cocoa and nodded. “Yes, my mother watched her so I could work. We were saving money for a house.”

  “Then I had an idea for making a piece of furniture,” Grandpa said, winking at Betty. “I took our savings and bought new tools, figuring if I could produce a table fast enough and cheap enough, we could open a side business.”

  “Ah, the birth of Lambert’s Furniture.” Ethan had heard variations of this story many, many times over the years but never tired of hearing them.

  “I became pregnant with your dad and pressed your grandpa to buy our dream house,” Grandma added.

  “What a face-off we had the night she found out we only had a fourth of our savings left.”

  Grandma recounted the rest of the story. Absently, her finger traced the rim of her mug. “It’s funny now, but then, land-a-mercy. I asked where all the money went, and your grandpa takes me down to my parents’ basement and shows me a couple slabs of wood, some shiny equipment, and tells me this stuff is going to buy me the best house in all of White Birch.”

  Ethan imagined the scene they described, two strong forces l
ike Grandpa and Grandma colliding. He shook his head and said, “Couldn’t have been pretty.”

  “Oh no.” Grandma glanced at Grandpa. “I had Barbara in my arms, but before I said another word, I walked upstairs, handed her to my mother, and told her to leave the house.”

  Grandpa smiled. “She came back down with an invisible rolling pin in her hand and verbally beat me with it.” He raised his mug to Grandma. “I bow to the master.”

  “Shush, Matt. It was a horrible, horrible argument.”

  Serious, Ethan asked, “How’d you work it out?”

  “Well, we went our separate ways and barely spoke for about a week,” Grandpa answered. “I had pride issues and thought I’d conquered them, but my soul still harbored that dark sin. Finally the Lord tapped my heart and said, ‘Matt, are you loving your wife?’ I said, ‘No, Lord, I’m not.’ I dropped to my knees and begged God to lead me out of that mess.”

  Ethan’s ears tingled. Grandpa’s words echoed his own heart’s cry tonight on the bridge.

  “That night, reading my devotions, I came across Ephesians 5, and verse 21 jumped off the page: ‘Submitting to one another.’ ”

  A light dawned for Ethan. “Lambert’s Code.”

  Grandma nodded. “Lambert’s Code. The Lord spoke the same thing to me. I had to do some repenting and submitting of my own.”

  “So what do Julie and I do?” Ethan had an idea but wasn’t sure where to start.

  “These things take time, son. Your grandma and I knew we had to submit one to another and walk in our respective husband and wife roles. It took a few years to live it out.” Grandpa’s narrow gaze told Ethan he spoke to him man-to-man.

  Ethan paced again, wandering the length of the grand living room. “We had this plan, you know. Get married, have children, be like you and Grandma and like my mom and dad. Then she miscarried, and we decided to go to school, get established, thinking we had plenty of time for a family.”

  “That’s not your issue, Ethan.” Grandpa cut to the chase.

  Ethan faced him. “What’s our issue?”

  “You two started with an idyllic perspective of married life. Getting to where your grandma and I are, where your parents are, takes work. It doesn’t just happen. You and Julie just wanted it to happen. You can’t live separate lives. How many times have you been over here in the last six months without Julie? A dozen, I bet. She has her music. You have sports. Add to that the strain of trying to conceive while rowing toward different shores. Why are you surprised at the wedges in your relationship?”

  Ethan perched on the hearth. Grandpa didn’t mince his words, and finding out Ethan wasn’t the husband he thought he’d be made him uncomfortable. “We thought it would be simple. We’d buy a house, have lots of kids, and be a family.”

  “A baby doesn’t make a family. You and Julie make the family. Babies come into the family you two establish.” Grandma collected Grandpa’s empty mug. Ethan’s mug sat on the coffee table, untouched. “And if marriage were easy, there’d be no divorce.”

  “I never thought of it like that—the kid thing, I mean.” Ethan mulled over Grandma’s words. He liked the thought of Julie and him being a family, a real family. Not two people waiting.

  “Go home. Call your wife. Get Lambert’s Code in motion, but give it time, Ethan. You didn’t get here in a day. You’re not going to get out of it in a day.” Grandpa stretched and reached for his book.

  As Ethan stepped into the night, the moon high overhead lit a path for him in the darkness.

  Fourteen

  Julie picked up the phone, tired, angry, weary of the upheaval. Discovering the Costa Rica trip revealed a surprise emotion—resentment.

  Please be awake, she thought as she dialed.

  “Hello?” The strong yet soft voice of Elle Adams answered.

  “Hi, Elle. Can I come over?”

  “Certainly.”

  Julie scurried to change into sweats and slip on her boots. She packed her overnight bag, not sure how to break the news to Elle that she wanted to stay for a few weeks.

  Driving over to the Adamses’ house, Julie poured out her heart to the Lord. “I’m not sure at all if I’m doing the right thing, but I need a break, God. I’m so tired, so resentful. How did I not know?”

  Julie pulled into the driveway and the porch light clicked on. Elle opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.

  “Oh, Elle, nothing is right.” Julie fell into her arms.

  Elle hugged her close. “I haven’t seen you this upset since that time in high school when you thought Ethan was going to break up with you.”

  Inside, Julie flopped onto the couch. “I’m sorry to bother you so late. I’m sure Bobby’s not thrilled.”

  Elle waved off the comment. “This time of night is his prayer time. I haven’t seen him in over an hour.”

  Julie dropped her head against the back of the couch. “Maybe he can pray for me.”

  Elle curled up next to her. “What’s troubling you?”

  “What’s not troubling me?” Julie rattled off the list of issues weighing down her heart, from being barren, to the arguments with Ethan, to the realization that she was resentful. “I told him I was going to stay with you guys until I left for Florida.”

  Elle was silent. Julie chewed her bottom lip while studying Elle’s thoughtful yet serious expression.

  “You and Ethan are looking to each other and children to meet needs only God can meet.”

  “What do you mean?” Julie slipped out of her coat, then shifted to see Elle better.

  “You’ve always wanted children. That was going to be some life fulfillment.”

  Julie nodded. They wanted children, and deep down, that desire filled a void in her heart. Growing up as an only child. . .

  “Then you miscarried, so you decided to focus on school and careers.”

  “We thought we should be doing something instead of waiting around for the next baby. Get financially prepared.”

  “Right, but you still had the expectation. You expect Ethan to meet all your needs. When he doesn’t, you withdraw. Even more so these past few years while you tried to get pregnant.”

  Julie clenched one of the throw pillows. Did Elle’s assessment have merit? “What about Ethan?”

  “He withdraws but does big-kid things like play basketball three nights a week.”

  “Or plan golf trips to Costa Rica.”

  Elle nodded. “And you get resentful of his actions.”

  “I never realized it before, but I resent his ability to accept our situation and move on, while I carry this guilt and burden of barrenness. It’s not fair.”

  “Life is not fair. You can’t blame Ethan.”

  “But I do.” Julie sat forward, chin in her hand.

  “Remember, Jesus tells us to abide in Him,” Elle began. “Apart from Him, we can’t do anything. Jesus is the only one who can meet your needs and heal your disappointments, Julie. No one person can satisfy like He can.”

  Abide in Him. She’d love to be confident in her relationship with Jesus. She imagined that submitting to one another, submitting to God’s plans, and giving up resentment would come easy if she was sure of Jesus’ love.

  Footfalls echoed down the hallway. Bobby entered the room. “Julie, nice surprise.” He bent down to give her a hug.

  “Marriage troubles, Bob,” Elle said.

  “Will and I thought Ethan seemed preoccupied lately. This about the baby issue?”

  Julie sighed. “And cars, and clothes on the floor, dishes in the sink, trips to Costa Rica.”

  Bobby sat in the chair adjacent to the couch. “Did he tell you about Costa Rica?”

  “Only after I found the tickets.”

  Bobby exhaled with a whistle. “We warned him.”

  Hearing that Ethan ignored wise counsel recharged her resentment. “So should I go to Florida with the quartet? Take a break?”

  “Pray about it, Julie,” Elle advised, then explained the situation to
her husband.

  “Bobby, what do you think?” Julie glanced at the Lambert cousin.

  “Just be sure you do it with a right heart. Let Ethan know how you feel. Don’t go out of spite, Jules. Most relationships go through adjustments.”

  “May I stay here for a while?”

  Elle looked at Bobby. Finally he said, “Call him. Don’t hide from him, Julie. I won’t promise how long you can stay. I don’t want to make it easy for you to avoid working out your problems with Ethan.”

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  ❧

  Sitting at his desk, creating a project schedule to reflect recent orders, Ethan could not concentrate. Today, Julie left for Florida in a van with Kit, Cassie, and Mike.

  The past few weeks she’d spent at Bobby and Elle’s wore on him. They’d met and talked, but the conversation usually ended in a gridlock.

  The night he came home from Grandma and Grandpa’s, all ready with his Lambert’s Code speech, submitting one to another, he was sure she would surrender her trip to Florida. He never thought she’d really leave for Elle and Bobby’s.

  Will knocked on Ethan’s office door, pulling his thoughts into the present. “Are you going down to say good-bye to her?”

  “I said all I’m going to say.”

  “Come on, Ethan.” Will looked his watch. “If you go now, you can kiss her good-bye. Kit’s place is only about fifteen minutes away.”

  “If I go now, we’ll argue, and I don’t want her to leave upset. We’ve done enough of that.”

  “Then don’t argue with her,” Will said.

  Ethan met Will’s gaze. “Lately it happens whether I want it to or not.”

  ❧

  Julie fiddled with her watch, hoping to see Ethan’s Honda zip around the corner any second.

  The last six days had gone by in a blur as she prepared to leave for Florida, arranging for a substitute teacher next Monday and Tuesday, preparing lesson plans, and driving to Kit’s most evenings for practice.

  “Hey, Julie, hand me your suitcase.” Mike stretched his hand toward her.

  Julie lugged the large leather case over to the van where Mike and Kit loaded up a small trailer. As soon as they closed the trailer doors, Julie knew Kit would clap her hands and declare, “Wagon ho!”