The Ultimatum

by Nancy Moser

  She wouldn't dare.

  He put his hand on the lid, wanting but not wanting to look. He looked.

  It was gone.

  His heart pumped double-time. This was a pure act of defiance on her part. He'd said no. He'd forbidden her to read it. He'd ordered her to let go of her ridiculous God-obsession.

  Forbidden? Ordered?

  He put the lid back on and rubbed the space between his eyes. Those weren't words he and Annie used in their marriage. They had a good relationship. Sure, they could snipe at each other like two crows going after the same piece of food, but love was always present. Somewhere. Hiding sometimes. But still around. Also present was a certain degree of tolerance.

  But words like forbidden and ordered had come up in his life before. Big-time. Eleven years previous they had been hurled at him by two supposedly Christian people. His entire pre-Annie life had been ruined by those two words.

  It's God's fault.

  Yes indeed, that was the bottom line. Cal had witnessed firsthand what happened when God got hold of people. He wasn't about to let it happen again.

  Not with his family.

  Annie braced herself. She'd just poured another cup of coffee when she heard the lid of the garbage can being set into place. She looked out the kitchen window. Cal stood by the cans, rubbing the space between his eyes. She fumbled her mug to the counter. He knows I took it back!

  Hot coffee splashed on the front of her cafe uniform, but she pushed that fact into the back of her mind for the moment. She studied her husband's face. He was staring into space, his eyebrows nearly touching, a familiar look that indicated deep thought. What was he thinking?

  He told me no more Bible. And he thinks I defied him. He doesnt know that I chose him. I chose him!

  She suddenly wanted to be at work. Away. Anywhere but here, so close to Cal and this conflict that any second he could storm in and have it out with her. She didn't want another confrontation about the Bible. The Bible was a good thing. It was a God-thing. But it wasn't going to be an issue between them anymore.

  Annie was tired of having issues: God—no God; another woman—no other woman. A simple life. That's what they needed to recapture. No surprises. No big stresses. Let their arguments be over Annie's penchant for being a clutter bug, or Cal's habit of shoving his dirty dishes under the couch. She could handle that. That was doable.

  And yes, she knew she could improve in the wife department. The effort would be worth it. If she tried real hard…

  It was a question of loyalty. She wanted Cal to choose her over anything and everything, just like she'd rechosen him.

  Over God?

  She emptied the rest of her coffee into the sink. Annie didn't see that she had much choice. It was the only way to make their life good again. Yet undoing the last few months wouldn't be easy. Where should she begin?

  She got a reprieve when he got in his truck and drove away.

  “What's got into you, boy? You getting paid by the dish?”

  Jered looked up from the dishes to see Bonnie watching him. “I wish.”

  “Then take it down a notch. You're making the rest of us look bad.”

  Jered nodded but couldn't follow her advice. Not after getting caught stealing from Jinko. He had to work extra hard to prove to Jinko that he was worth having around. Jered couldn't lose this job. He couldn't lose his place in Jinko's garage. He couldn't lose Jinko's trust.

  Jered looked around the restaurant kitchen. A lot of good the extra effort was doing him. He hadn't seen Jinko since he came in. Maybe it would have been smarter to hold off working so hard until he had an audience. Or maybe Bonnie would tell Jinko? He doubted it. Bonnie was nice, but she didn't seem the type to do people any favors. She did her job and went home. Period.

  Vasylko called across the kitchen. “Hey, Jered. What you be Friday?”

  “What?”

  “Halloween. Jinko wants us dress for big day.”

  “You mean dress up?”

  “Up. Yes. Dress up. Costumes.”

  “But we're back in the kitchen. No one sees us.”

  “On that night they do. Jinko like Halloween. He has big party—you see ads in paper?”

  “I don't read the paper.”

  The cook shook a spatula at him. “Shame. Shame. You should read news.”

  The rest of the world could have been under attack by aliens, and Jered wouldn't know it. He hadn't seen a newspaper or even watched TV since he left home. “I'm not going to dress up.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can't afford a costume.”

  “No worry. Jinko pay.”

  “For all of us?”

  “Like I say, Jinko like Halloween. I am Elvis.” He struck a pose. “Viva Las Vegas!”

  I want to be Elvis. “What do I get to be?”

  “Don't know. Ask Jinko.”

  He would. If he ever saw him. And had a surge of courage.

  “Annie!” Donald pointed a spatula at her. “Rein yourself in, woman, or you'll be breaking my dishes—and paying for every one of them.”

  “Sorry.” Annie was in a slam-bam mood and had been ever since she'd come to work. She couldn't do anything subtly. Every movement had an overdose of power behind it. As if she was mad. And she was. At Cal and herself. In a way, they'd both been unfaithful, straying from the home base of their relationship, changing the rules. But no more. She'd made a decision that was going to help her marriage.

  Shouldn't she feel calm?

  She brought Merry a bowl of vegetable soup, grabbing a tray of crackers on the way. When she set it down, it sloshed over the side of the bowl.

  “Sorry.” She wiped up the spill. “That seems to be my word of the day”

  “So I've witnessed,” Merry said. “What's up? I came in for lunch to give you support.” She lowered her voice. “Did you talk to Cal about his trip to…?” She let her eyebrows finish the sentence.

  Annie glanced around. No eyes were on her. “No. But I expect the worst.”

  Merry shook her head. “I'm so sorry.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I also hope for the best. I hope I'm wrong. Yet looking back on the past few months, Cal has been doing quite a few ‘errands’ in Eldora. I'm not sure I can blame him.” She gave Merry another napkin. “I won't be coming to church with you again, Merry.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can't let God break up my family.”

  “Order up!”

  Annie left to get the food.

  “Annie…”

  She ignored her friends voice. She didn't want Merry to argue with her. She couldn't let anything sway her from her new course.

  She brought the burger platters to the couple in the corner. When she headed back to the counter, she pulled up short when Bailey and Cal came into the Plentiful.

  Cal didn't even say hello but merely nodded at her. He took it upon himself to sit at a table for two in the corner.

  Probably mad about the Bible being gone. Oh, dear.

  She grabbed menus and headed toward them. She handed one to her husband and touched his shoulder. “Hey, hon.”

  He didn't look up. “Hey.”

  Then she gave a menu to Bailey, and her tension let loose. “Well now, Bailey. Isn't this a surprise? Since when do you go in for—what did you call it? ‘Home cooking and no atmosphere’ twice? In less than two weeks no less.”

  “Good morning to you too, Annie.”

  Behave yourself, Annie! You re trying to ease things over with Cal, not rile him more. She remembered to smile. Kind of. “What'U it be, gentlemen?”

  Cal handed the menu back. “The usual for me.”

  Bailey perused the food choices with a look that said it was not a pleasant experience. She felt like ripping the menu from his hands. “Bailey? How about some nice fried gizzards, extra fat, gravy, and salt?”

  He made a face and handed her the menu. “A chef's salad. House dressing on the side.”

  How boring of you.

 
She stood before them, waiting for Cal to say something. Anything. But he just played with the salt and pepper shakers.

  “Okay then.” She did a pivot and left.

  Why was marriage so complicated?

  “You two have a fight or something?” Bailey asked.

  Cal figured he might as well just say it. “It seems my wife has found God.”

  Bailey shook his head. “Uh-oh. Now you're in for it. There's nothing worse for a relationship than Jesus getting between a man and a woman.”

  “You have experience with this?”

  Bailey shrugged. “After Sim and Claire came to town and hid out in the library attic, Merry got into the God-stuff.”

  “I didn't know. Is she fanatic about it?”

  “Not really. But let me warn you, it's pretty hard for a guy like you and me to compete with the perfection of the J-man.”

  Don'T I know it. “I take it you're not religious.”

  “If that means going to church, no. I believe God exists and all that, but from experience I also know He has a sick sense of humor.”

  “How so?”

  “The whole Jered fiasco. I have a heart attack and need my son, and he ends up running away. I need and God takes.”

  “Been there, done that.”

  “Oh, really.”

  Cal bit his lower lip. He was way too close to telling Bailey about Treena. He hadn't even told Annie about Treena.

  “Care to elaborate?” Bailey asked.

  “Let's just say I've dabbled in the God-thing but decided to go it alone. It's easier to trust myself than to trust somebody I can't see and who might not exist.”

  “Whoo. You did have a bad experience, didn't you?”

  Cal shoved the salt and pepper back where they belonged.

  “Well, maybe you don't have to worry. It doesn't sound like God's dug real deep in Annie's life.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She's acting as sarcastic as ever. God usually makes women gushy.” His voice changed to a falsetto. “Don't you know that God loves you, Bailey? He has a plan for your life; I just know it.” His voice went back to normal. “And they are more than willing to be a part of dictating that plan according to what they want. Nope, no sir. I'm not going to change my life for anyone. I'm fine right where I am. You and I are smart men, Cal. We have things under control. We don't need God.”

  “Amen to that.”

  No wonder Cal felt he could confide in Bailey. They were soul mates.

  “You're not eating. You don't like the soup?” Annie asked Merry.

  Merry shook her head and pushed the bowl away. “I've lost my appetite.”

  Annie changed her weight to the other foot, preparing herself. “Just say it. I'm not in the mood for beating around any bushes.”

  Merry wiped a drip of soup with a napkin. “I'm worried about you. You and Cal. Your marriage and… Surely you didn't mean it when you said you weren't coming back to church.”

  Annie looked at Cal, sitting in the corner. He glanced at her, then away. If only Bailey weren't with him, she would slip into the chair across from Cal and explain why she saved the Bible from the trash. It didn't mean she'd chosen against him; it was just an act of respect. It didn't mean she would read it.

  Merry was talking, “…ignore all that has happened to you. I was with you at the Praise Show. I was there when you gave your life to Jesus. I was a witness. I saw the passion and light in your expression. It was real, Annie. And all your growth since then was real. You were changing and it—”

  “Yes, I was changing. Changing too much. Changing so much that my marriage was threatened.” She tapped the edge of Merry's table for emphasis. “God loves marriage. He wants it to be a strong institution. I can't lose Cal. Not for anybody. Not even for God.”

  “Order up!”

  She left to do her duty, feeling Merry's eyes on her back.

  Annie and Cal didn't have time to argue that night. Avi had a soccer game, and Cal was the coach. They celebrated the victory by going to the Dairy Sweet for hot fudge sundaes, and then Annie was consumed with laundry and helping Avi with her model of a Mayan temple for school. Cal spent time at the computer.

  Time ran out to discuss anything, which in a way was fine. It had been a long day. Annie wasn't up to it.

  It was exhausting being in the middle. God and Cal would have to stake their claims on her heart later. Right now she had chores to do.

  Cal stared at the computer screen. Their savings account was pitiful: $1718. If not for the $1583 he'd deposited from the overpayment by the insurance company they'd have $135. Why couldn't they ever put anything away? It's not as if they were extravagant people. Yet, he had bought that new TV last spring…

  Oh, well, he couldn't go back. And nobody but nobody watched TV on a twenty-seven-incher anymore. Couldn't a fellow have any luxuries? Didn't he deserve a few trappings of the good life?

  But the timing was bad. He'd bought the TV before his father's health had turned, before Cal had been forced to take on the expense of a nursing home.

  He thought about the ten-thousand-dollar inheritance Annie had received from her mother's estate. Why had he mentioned it to Bailey as money he could invest? Only five thousand was left in a CD. They'd had to use the rest to fix the furnace, Annie's car had needed new tires, then they'd paid off the previous year's Christmas bills. Whatever the details, half was gone, and more important, they'd agreed not to spend the rest but save it.

  He looked at the window in front of him. It was whistling because it wouldn't close all the way. If he wanted to use their savings, he should put it toward replacing all the windows with thermal panes. Winter would be here soon, and the single panes were no match for the cold and wind.

  He should not use the money to invest in Bailey's restaurant.

  But the opportunity…

  Cal hated being middle-class. Mediocre, can't-wait-for-the-pay-check middle-class.

  Sweat equity. That's all he could offer Bailey. Can't get more middle-class than that. Sweat so the rich don't have to.

  Cal couldn't imagine Bailey sweating. Or getting his fingernails dirty. How many times had he seen him pinch a piece of lint from his pants, or adjust the cuffs of his shirt below the sleeves of his sports coat?

  Sports coat. Who in Steadfast wore suits or sports coats? Maybe George the banker, but other than that, you just didn't do it. Not unless you wanted to be set apart. Which, Cal realized, was exactly what Bailey wanted.

  I could use a little setting apart myself.

  No, he didn't want to wear suits or be worried if dust was on the toes of his shoes, but Cal wouldn't mind if people thought of him as something more than a handyman. Bailey called him a “building contractor.” That was more like it. It was sure better than being known as a construction worker or, as Avi called anyone working with their hands, a “worker man.”

  His father had a lesser way of looking at his profession. “You still doing grunt work, Cal?” It didn't matter that it was his own business, that he had a steady stream of work. Pretty steady anyway.

  He shut the computer off. What was the use? A grunt-work worker man. That's what he was, no matter how much money he pretended he had.

  “Well, well.”

  Jered looked up from stocking the pantry shelves to find Jinko watching him. Noticing him. Finally!

  He flattened a box that had held cans of refried beans. “Hi.”

  Jinko scanned the shelves. “Nice work. Vasylko says you've been working extra hard today.”

  Jered wished he could think of some excuse that didn't sound like he was trying to earn brownie points.

  Jinko leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Feeling a bit guilty, are we?”

  Jered adjusted a stack of cans. Why can't I think of anything to say?

  Jinko pushed himself to standing. “Hey, I don't need to know your motives. I'm glad to get the work done.” He put a hand on Jered's shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes
. “And I reward loyalty. You know that, don't you?”

  Jered was counting on it.

  Jered sat at a back table and ate a plate of cheese enchiladas for his dinner break. Mondays weren't busy, but there was still a steady stream of customers.

  He watched Jinko work the room. That man could talk to anybody and always found the right thing to say, treating all the customers like his best friends.

  Jered had seen his dad do the dining-room shuffle at Bon Vivant, so he knew it was part of the job. But the way the two men handled the same job was… Jered ate some chips and tried to pinpoint the difference.

  For one thing, the clothes. His dads fancy suits versus Jinko's solid-colored shirts and pants—always dark: all navy, all black, all gray—went with the territory. If either man traded clothing, they wouldn't fit in. But it went beyond clothes.

  He heard Jinko's deep laugh and watched him pat a customer on the back, lean forward to whisper in his ear, and laugh some more. The image Jered had of his dad talking to diners was of him standing at the head of their table, his hands clasped in front, his back straight. Like a snooty maitre d'. Bailey Manson kept himself separate—as a restaurant owner and as a father. That was it. Jinko made contact. He connected with the customers and made them feel special, drawing people in.

  Drawing me in. Jered suffered a shiver but didn't let himself think about why. He cut a huge bite of enchilada and shoved it in his mouth, chewing it along with his thoughts. There was another difference between his dad and Jinko. His dad was safe. Boring. Set in his ways. Blind to anything outside his immediate vision. He was an immovable force that couldn't—and wouldn't—be changed. Jinko was full of life, pulsing with it, shifting around as needed, always on the lookout for a new opportunity. A new opening. His eyes constantly scanned the room like he was trying to take it captive.

  He noticed Jered watching him and winked.

  See? He notices me. He appreciates me. He likes me.

  Jered hurried to finish his dinner. He needed to get back to work. He didn't want to disappoint Jinko.

  A few minutes later, as Jered stacked plates, he noticed Jinko leave the back way, slipping out without a word. It wasn't the first time he'd seen him disappear during the height of the evening. He always came back after a half hour or so, but it seemed weird.