“It’s been rough, but once she got rid of that good-for-nothing husband of hers, she got back on track and married a real good guy. They have the cutest little boy. He’s my man.” She adjusted the bed table and pushed it into position. “I promised myself I was never going to mess up like she did.” She turned to Roger. “After you told her that no man ever had a right to beat on a woman, she filed for divorce.”
Hope eyed her breakfast tray. “Would that all our girls turned out like Shelby.” She was starved. The cup of decaf coffee looked more like tea, but at least it smelled right. She handed it to Roger. “Here, you drink this. Next baby, you get to be pregnant, and I get to drink the coffee.”
The aide left the room laughing.
“Celia is coming by to do your hair, and Clarice will man—or woman—the desk. Julia’s first class is tonight, and she’ll be by sometime this afternoon. Has the doctor been here yet?”
“Nope.” Hope downed her orange juice. “Did Peter call?”
Roger nodded. “He said he called Blakely Associates and told them we weren’t interested and to stop soliciting us.”
“Something tells me they won’t give up, that they’ll do whatever they have to do to push us into a corner.” She wondered if she should tell Roger what she’d been thinking. She didn’t want to alarm him. He had enough on his plate right now. Still … “I know this probably could sound like I’m overreacting, but did you wonder if that drug tip last Sunday might have come from them?”
“It crossed my mind,” he said, grimacing as he sipped the coffee. “Whoa! That’s gotta be the worst coffee I ever tasted.” He shook himself all over like a wet dog. “I don’t want you worrying about them. I’ve got some of my buddies checking them out.”
“Anything new for Clarice?”
“Negative. Are you going to eat that toast and egg?”
Hope shook her head. “I’m good with the juice and the bacon.” How come this morning bacon sounded good, and others it had sent her to the bathroom? She nibbled the crisp strip carefully. Nope, no problem.
Roger cleaned her plate and spread jam on the second piece of toast. “Sure you don’t want this?”
“Mister Roger, why you eatin’ all her breakfast?” Celia strode through the doorway, beauty case in hand.
“Because I’m hungry, and my mother told me to never waste food, to think of all the starving children in the world.”
“Hey, Celia. Who’s minding the store?” Hope smiled. She loved Celia like the sister she had never had. No one had a bigger heart than Celia.
“I got Clarice fillin’ in. By the time I get back, she’ll probably have scrubbed all the walls and sewed new curtains.” She kept a straight face. “I woulda been here sooner, but … ” She held up a square box.
Hope inhaled the heavenly fragrance of fresh doughnuts. Thank You, God. Now, make them Krispy Kreme.
“There better be enough in there for me, or it’s contraband.” Dr. Cheong eyed the box as she came through the door.
“I got a dozen just in case I had to bribe the guard.” Celia set the box down and opened the lid. “Got napkins, too.”
Hope all but groaned as the smell of sugarcoated raised doughnuts found its way to her nose. “Me first,” she said, reaching out her hand.
“Who said you could have doughnuts, missy?” Dr. Cheong asked.
Hope’s hand stopped midway to her mouth. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
Dr. Cheong started to reach for the doughnut, then stopped. “Okay, I’m kidding.”
Andy checked the messages on her cell phone. When she saw one from Martin, she pushed the button and listened. “I’ll be back in San Francisco Monday morning. I’m really sorry I had to leave, but I don’t have anyone trained yet. I’ll hang the cabinet doors when I get home. Have a good weekend. Love you, Martin.”
Ordinarily, she would have been tempted to throw the phone across the room, but not this Friday morning. She had been doing a lot of praying lately, for Hope, Hope’s baby, J House, the Girl Squad, and for herself and Martin. One of the many things she realized was that if she wanted to save her marriage, she would need to try harder to understand what was going on with Martin.
Something had sparked when Hope told Clarice to tread carefully with Celia. Like Celia, Martin had a serious case of low self-esteem. Early in their marriage, he’d told her that his parents were losers, and that he’d struggled to make something of himself so he wouldn’t end up like them. On the Internet, she’d read that low self-esteem often translated into insecurity, and that insecurity could result in jealousy. Even of his wife’s business? The thought still made Andy shake her head, and yet …
On the other hand, it was hard to think of Martin as feeling insecure. He always exuded such confidence in everything he did. In fact, it was Martin’s confidence and perseverance that had inspired her to take Lavender Meadows to the next level—from retail to wholesale.
Her Google search pulled up a lot of different possibilities for Martin’s jealousy, but it was how to deal with it that remained the mystery. Obviously, more research would be necessary, more prayer, and back to her Bible. If you believe that answers to all life’s problems are in there, then you better go searching, she reminded herself.
Long time ago she’d learned to pray first and read second, especially when she wasn’t sure where to look. “Father, You know I am searching how to help Martin the most. Where should I look? Please speak to me through Your word; You promised You would.” She caught herself in a sigh. Sometimes the unknown could sure seem insurmountable. “I’ll give You all the praise and glory, amen.”
First she reviewed the concordance for the word A jealousy, but all the Old Testament strictures didn’t seem to apply in this case. After all, neither of them had been unfaithful. Flipping through the New Testament, red words caught her attention: “that you love one another.” Jesus had said that more than once. But I do love him. That’s not the issue here.Another line floated through her mind: “the greatest of these is love.”
“Okay, I know You’re trying to tell me something here, but this is not new stuff. I’m looking for a solution to Martin’s jealousy of my business here.” She closed her eyes and let her mind float. Symptoms. She wrote the word on the pad in front of her and opened her eyes to stare at it. She boxed it in with pencil lines. Was jealousy a symptom? And if so, of what? Of his insecurity, of course. And that could be helped by … She waited again. Love. Of course.
But I’ve always loved him. Doesn’t he know that? She huffed out a breath and dragged frustrated fingers through her hair.
This would be easier to figure out if I were home. I could ask our pastor, or my mother. She’s wise. But she couldn’t call them, not after ten at night. Sane people went to sleep instead of driving themselves nuts with hard questions. If you want to know about love, go to the love chapter. She turned to 1 Corinthians 13 and read it through once to herself, then aloud. “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; … bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Tears burned her throat, making reading aloud impossible. I haven’t done this, have I, Lord? She knew this was not a question but a confession.
“Please show me how to love this man in a way he can understand.” She remembered something she once heard a speaker say. You cannot change another; you can only change yourself. You must let God change the other person.
She stayed up until the wee hours to finish painting the second coat on all the cabinet doors, trying in ways to show Martin how much she loved him. After all, there was no sense trying to sleep when her mind was going two hundred miles an hour. Saturday, she needed to be at the market by 7:00 a.m., not to sell her products as she’d originally intended, but to help out. She’d promised Hope.
Fluffy looked up from his Harley chair, evidently his favorite, since he spent most of his time
in it. His low meow sounded more like a question than an answer. “What?” she asked as if the cat could really tell her. “I know you’re not hungry, and I know—” The cat looked at her and blinked. “You miss Mrs. Getz, don’t you?” For the first time since Fluffy had been delivered, she realized that he might be missing the love and affection the older woman had lavished on him. “I’m sorry, Fluffy,” she said, walking over to him, then bending to pick him up. “I never even gave a thought to what you might be feeling. Poor kitty.” Fluffy lifted his paw and touched her face—just the way Chai Lai did. “Oh, aren’t you sweet?” She cradled the eighteen-pounder in her arms like a baby.
Fluffy was just one of several surprises that had come her way in recent weeks. She would never forget coming back to San Francisco and listening to Martin giving her a rundown on Fluffy’s stuff—and then picking the cat up and holding him, like she was holding him now. That was definitely a side of Martin she had never seen, but a side she looked forward to seeing again. This house and its spectacular view had been a surprise, a very pleasant surprise that kept her in a constant state of appreciation for sunny days that set the bay to sparkling, fog in all its facets, and sunsets that burnished both hills and steel buildings. But the best surprise of all was the Girl Squad, led by one very special girl: Hope Benson.
“Oh my gosh, I haven’t called Hope yet.” She scrambled to find her purse and the phone number, but when she looked at the clock, she realized it was only nine thirty, not noon as it felt to her. She dialed J House. When Clarice answered, she paused. “Hi, I was ready to talk to Celia, and here you are on the phone.”
“Celia went over to the hospital. What do you need?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering how Hope is.”
“Stronger today than yesterday. The doctor said she would need to stay at least three more days so they can run some tests. If everything looks good, she can go home as long as she promises to keep to her bed for another week or so.”
“Oh boy. How’s she going to handle that?”
“That’s where we all come in. I’m spelling Celia on the front desk so she can take over some other things, especially getting ready for the market tomorrow. Roger is lining up substitute pastors and meeting with the lawyer about some offer that they received on J House. And the dishwasher is on the fritz.”
Andy groaned. “Why is it mechanical things always break when there is another crisis going on?”
“Murphy’s Law.”
“How did Julia’s class go last night?”
“Great. Let me put you on hold for a minute—another call.”
Andy waited after the click and thought about how hard bed rest would be for Hope. She tucked the phone between ear and shoulder, picked up the dry cabinet doors one by one, and leaned them back against the dining room wall.
“Sorry.” Clarice came back on the line. “I had to find one of the girls.”
“Is there some way I can help there today?”
“Not that I know of. Celia is a wonder when it comes to dealing with the girls and the children. The truth is, she’s much better at that than with filing and writing reports, the kind of thing I have no trouble with.”
“So I take it you two are getting along better?”
“Much better. It was really just a matter of asking her to tell me what she wanted me to do and what she didn’t want me to do. But we still have our moments.”
“Call me if there is anything I can do. Otherwise, I’ll get some chores done around here this morning and go to the hospital this afternoon.”
“When will your husband be back?”
“He said Monday, but that could change. Martin is a workaholic. If his company has something they want him to do, he makes sure he’s available to do it.”
“Uh-oh. I detect a bit of anger there. Resentment, perhaps?”
Andy was momentarily taken aback by Clarice’s observation. She hadn’t meant to air her resentment, especially to someone she barely knew. It was too late to take her words back, but she still might be able to do a little damage control. “Let’s just say I’ve cleaned a lot of closets over the years.”
“I used to do that when I was angry too.”
“From everything you’ve said, I thought you never got mad at Herbert.”
“Of course I did. I still get mad at him, and he’s dead. Men can be so pigheaded, selfish, self-absorbed, and impatient. Did I say pigheaded?”
Andy laughed. “Yes, yes, you did.”
“Andy, I’m probably speaking out of school, but after what I’ve been through, all I can say is, be thankful you have Martin, even if sometimes you want to kill him.”
Andy swallowed hard and bit back tears. “Thank you, Clarice. I am thankful for him, but lately I haven’t done much to show it. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”
Andy hung up and, curling into the corner of the sofa, started her list for the morrow. Get change for the cashbox topped the list. Fluffy leaped up beside her and stepped into her lap. After bumping his head under Andy’s chin, he turned around several times and made himself comfortable in a circle, purring loud enough to shake the seat.
“You don’t make it easy for me, you know. I mean to write. You mean for me to pet you.”
Andy had just finished her lists when the phone rang.
“Andy, this is Julia, and I’m calling to ask a favor.”
“What can I do?”
“You know that class I’m teaching, to help prepare these young women for real jobs instead of just menial jobs?”
“Sure. I heard the first session went great.”
“It was great, but what they need now are suitable clothes. I’m going to find out when some of the church women’s groups meet at other congregations besides J House and see if I can get them to help us out. We need shoes, purses, everything. Clarice said she would call the corporate offices of some of the retail chain clothing stores and ask for donations of leftover sale items and returns. Some of those things might need a bit of repair.”
“Is there a sewing machine at J House?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I have one. It’s in Medford. I could pack it up the next time I go home, which should be in a few days.”
“That would be good, but hang on until after Clarice makes her calls. Meanwhile, I’m going to try to get some corporate sponsorship for the program. The more girls we can get off the dole and working, the better off we will all be. Do you know anyone who teaches ESL?”
“ESL?”
“English as a second language. That’s another ministry that could flow through J House. That and literacy.”
Andy could hardly keep up with all of Julia’s ideas. “Are you planning on moving here so you can see all these programs through to the end?”
“I … Well, no. But I can at least get a few of them started.”
“Anything new on your granddaughter?”
“No. Roger is beginning to think she’s gone somewhere else, back to LA or maybe Las Vegas, since she took dance lessons for a few years.”
“I’ll keep praying.”
“I appreciate that. If you can get to any thrift stores and you find some things, make sure you keep the receipt, in case there’s money to reimburse you.”
“Will do.” Andy said good-bye and set the receiver in the cradle. One more thing to add to the list. In her e-mail tonight, she’d ask Bria if she had any castoffs she could send. The next time she was home, she’d go through the boxes she’d stuffed in the attic. Surely there were some usable things there.
Hope wasn’t in her room when Andy reached the hospital, so she checked the nurses’ station.
“She’s down for a sonogram. You can wait in her room if you like. She shouldn’t be long.”
“Thanks.” Andy settled into a chair, took out the card she’d tucked into her purse, and wrote a note.
“Hey there.” Hope waved when they pushed the gurney in and transferred her back to the bed. “Thanks.”
The nurse rehung the IV, checked to make sure the drips were functioning correctly, and sniffed. “Sure smells good in here. What is it?”
Andy handed Hope her card. “Lavender. I tucked a sachet into the envelope.”
Hope sniffed the card and smiled. “Andy has a lavender farm in Oregon,” she told the nurse. She opened the card and sniffed the sachet.
“Well, you two have a nice chat.” The nurse smiled and left the room.
“So tell me everything I’ve missed out on.”
“I doubt you’ve missed a thing.” Andy sat back and crossed her legs. “Julia called me earlier, and we talked about getting suitable clothes for the girls in her class to wear out on job interviews. As soon as I leave here, I’m heading for a thrift shop I saw the other day.”
“I want to thank you in advance for helping out tomorrow at the Saturday Market.”
“My pleasure. I plan on helping out Sunday, too. But Monday I’m staying home. Martin is due back Monday morning, and we have some things to iron out.”
“Workaholics aren’t easy to live with. Ask Roger.”
“How … how did you know?” Was the woman a mind reader?
“Just things you’ve said. Besides, it takes one to recognize one.” She laughed.
“Actually, I’m a recovering workaholic. If Roger hadn’t sat me down and talked to me, we wouldn’t be together right now.”
“What did he say?” Andy leaned forward.
“Well, first of all he asked if I remembered why we had gotten married. Then he asked me what I wanted out of the marriage. He told me that we had lost sight of our early goals of intimacy and shared time. He said that to him, spending time with me was more important than anything else. Now, tell me, what can you say when the man you love tells you he’d rather be with you than eat?”
Andy sat back and let her mind drift. What would Martin say if she put those same questions to him?
“You have to be willing to accept the consequences, Andy,” Hope said, again as if reading her mind. “There are things you might have to give up, things you love. The question is, do you love those things more than Martin? I’d be willing to bet he believes that his hard work is his way of showing you his love.” Hope reached for Andy’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll pray for you.”
Saturday Morning Page 23
