Monday Morning Faith

by Lori Copeland

  Well, of course. I didn’t expect more.

  He straightened. “Well, I’d better go. Got a lot to get done before I leave.”

  I had a great need to give him something, like women in historical times giving their knight a memento to carry close to their hearts into battle. I fingered the scarf at my throat, then cold reason stepped in. I’d scare him to death if I gave him a personal item. He’d think I’d lost my mind. Support, the man had said. We hadn’t reached the commitment stage, and I had no reason to think we ever would.

  I held out my hand. “Go with God.” How easy the platitude rolled off my lips. Before I would have thought nothing about the phrase; now I asked myself if I believed the blessing.

  He held my hand a fraction longer than necessary, his eyes looking deep into mine. “Take care. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  He left and I stared after him, depression closing around me. A week wasn’t all that long, but it seemed like an eternity. I’d miss our discussions over cups of green tea. I’d even gotten Sam to switch from coffee a couple of times. I’d miss seeing him pop in and out of the library, miss this gentle, good man who had become a very dear friend.

  Good heavens! I was about to burst into tears! Horrified at the thought, I retreated to my office, where I closed the door and sat in the silence for a good long while.

  I’d known I’d miss the good doctor, but I’d never imagined how much. I’d be working in my office and see a flicker of movement, then look up expecting to see him walking by. The stab of disappointment when I remembered he was gone worried me. Sam was a tempting diversion, but even if he should show more than a hint of interest in me, Mom and Pop had a prior claim.

  On Friday, Nelda paused in the doorway. “Heard anything from Mr. Good Looking?”

  “Of course not. Why would I hear from him?” And why would I tell her if I did?

  “Thought he might call or something.”

  “He’s deep in Mexico. He’s not thinking about me.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “He doesn’t have e-mail?”

  “How should I know? He’s in the boonies — I don’t think they make an extension cord long enough to reach him.” I was being stubborn and facetious — and loving it.

  She flicked a nonexistent speck of dust off her lavender sweater. “Are you sure he’s only interested in the research?”

  I laid a folder on my desk. “Have you seen my pair of scissors?” Someone was always taking my stuff.

  Nelda laughed. “Changing the subject, are we?”

  “We are. Have you seen the scissors?”

  “They’re on my desk.”

  “On your desk. I hate it when you borrow and don’t bring back.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t have a cow. I’ll get the scissors. Back to Sam — ”

  I heaved a sigh and threw up my hands. “I’m not looking for a man. I like my life the way it is!”

  “Fine. I have nothing more to say on the subject. Sorry I mentioned it — I just think you’re trying to hide from life.

  You’re using your parents as an excuse to hibernate. You’ll never catch a man’s interest unless you try!”

  “Don’t forget my scissors!” I called after her retreating back. Sheesh. Why didn’t people put back what they borrowed?

  I grabbed a piece of paper and stared at it. Nelda didn’t understand my situation. No one understood. Mom and Pop needed me. Neither Sam nor anyone else could expect me to leave them alone. Besides which, Sam had never even brought up such a subject, let alone discussed it.

  I sniffed. Nelda was wrong. I wasn’t hiding from life. Using my parents as an excuse to avoid a risk. That was nonsense — so like Nelda.

  Before closing time a repentant Nelda stopped by my desk. “Look, I’m sorry I shot off my mouth. I need to learn to mind my own business.”

  “That’s all right.” I was in a forgiving mood.

  “No, it isn’t all right. We’re friends and I want the best for you, but sometimes I get carried away. Forgive me?”

  I sighed. “Sure. I know you meant well, but I can’t see any way the situation can change. I’m happy as I am.”

  “Okay. Friends?”

  “Always.” I was lucky to have her. Not everyone wanted to be friends with someone who had very little free time for socializing. Somehow we had managed to forge the bonds of a strong relationship, and my life was brighter because of her.

  FOUR

  Saturday I took Mom to the store and dry cleaners. Sunday, to church. That was the extent of my weekend. I caught myself staring out the window a lot, daydreaming about Papua New Guinea. I should never have done all that research. I knew as much about the place as Sam did, and missions were starting to sound interesting.

  But that didn’t concern me as much as the fact that Mom and Pop were acting odd. I caught them whispering back and forth, but they fell silent the moment I entered a room.

  “Are the two of you up to something?”

  Pop grinned, eyes as innocent as a newborn calf. “What makes you think that?” He’d regained his strength from the recent hospital episode.

  “Call it a hunch.” A very strong one. “I haven’t seen Margaret in a few days. Where’s the ole broad been hanging out?”

  Mom glanced up from her knitting with a frown. “Johanna.”

  I sighed. “Has Aunt Margaret called in the past couple of days?”

  Pop chucked. “As a matter of fact, she was here yesterday. Wanted to know if you were still interested in Harvey. Wanted to remind you that several women at church were giving him the eye, but you were his first choice.”

  I choked on the jelly bean I’d just popped in my mouth. “What part of no doesn’t that woman understand? Tell her I forfeit all rights; the other women need to make their move and he can take his pick.”

  “Line forms on the right,” Pop agreed. “She’s correct on one thing, though. You need to get out more. I thought maybe you were showing some interest in this Sam your mother met at the hospital.”

  “Sam’s heart is on missions, not women. He’s in Matamoros right now, doing mission work.”

  Mom tsked. “He won’t be gone forever, will he?”

  Had she been talking to Nelda? “He’ll be back — to leave in January for two months.”

  “Let’s see, he’s been gone how long?”

  “Seven days.” Three hours and forty-three minutes. Not that I was keeping track. I just happened to do a lot of clock watching.

  “Well, I’ll wager a steak dinner he’ll be around to see you the moment he gets back.”

  “Please, Pop.” I dropped another jelly bean in my mouth. “Sam Littleton is a friend and a library patron.” Well, maybe a tiny bit more, but that wasn’t the point; the point was that between Mom, Pop, and Nelda, I was feeling pressured.

  Pop sent Mom the “look.” She nodded and bent to her cross-stitch. They were up to something. I’d bet a cow on it.

  Monday I came home from work to find them waiting for me in the living room wearing expressions that stood out like a black snake in a bathtub. Something was going on, and I had a hunch I was about to find out what.

  Mom grinned. “Honey, could we talk to you a moment?”

  I’d had a rough day, meetings and year-end budget problems. The last thing I needed was more hassle. “Can it wait until after dinner?”

  “We’re having pizza delivered. Harriet, it can wait until Johanna has a chance to catch her breath.” Pop returned to his newspaper.

  I dumped my book bag and purse on the sofa. What was this all about? “Are you all right?” Was there a new health problem I didn’t know about?

  “We’re fine. We have a little something we need to discuss with you, that’s all.” Pop reached over and took Mom’s hand. “We’re here alone all day and the isolation gets boring. We’ve discussed this at length and our minds are made up.”

  I looked from one to the other. “About what?”

  Mom’s chin l
ifted, her lips firmed. “We don’t want any argument from you about this. Our decision is firm — and final.”

  “What decision?” Why didn’t they just come out and say it! The suspense was killing me.

  Pop glanced at Mom. “We’re moving into assisted living.”

  I gaped at them. “You’re … what?”

  “I said we’re moving — ”

  “I heard that! What I didn’t hear was why you would even think of such a thing. Aren’t you happy here?”

  Why hadn’t they just stuck a stick of dynamite in my ear? It would have been less of a shock. Assisted living? When had this come up?

  “Of course we’ve been happy, but we think it’s time we made a change.” Mom picked a thread off her blouse. “I know this surprises you.”

  Well, yeah. Ear. Dynamite. “I don’t think this is a good idea — ”

  “It’s settled, sweetie.” Pop’s voice was kind but firm. “We’ve taken care of the paperwork; we’re moving Saturday.”

  “This Saturday? That’s less than a week!” My voice squeaked like an unoiled hinge. “I can’t get you packed and moved in that length of time!”

  “We’ll be limited on what we can take.” Mom refused to look me in the eye. “I’ve already started packing what we need. It won’t be that big a job. We’re going to love living at The Gardens.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” In spite of my best efforts, tears welled up in my eyes. “What about me? What will I do if you leave?”

  “You’ll get a nice apartment close to work and you will have more time for yourself.”

  “I don’t want more time. What’s wrong with the way things are now? What will we do with the house?”

  “Oh, we’ll not be in any hurry to sell. We’ll let you get settled before we put the place on the market. Megan said she thought she already had a couple of interested parties. Good neighborhood, you know, ideal starter house for a young couple with small children.”

  “Megan?” I seemed to be in a wind tunnel. All I could hear was sucking air: mine.

  “Megan … our realtor.”

  Our realtor? “You’ve already consulted a realtor.”

  “Figured it would be easier this way. Saved a lot of haggling.” Pop grinned. “Look at it this way. You’ll have time to make friends and have fun, which you don’t have now, and we’ll get to play bingo and visit with people our age.”

  “I thought you were happy here with me.” I could not understand why they would make this decision without consulting me. Surely they didn’t really want to move to The Gardens when they could stay in their own home. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

  “Oh, yes, honey. I know you’re shocked, but we feel this will be better for all of us in the long run. We’ll have access to nursing care twenty-four hours a day. There will be activities and people around us. The way things are now, we just sit home alone most of the time. It does get a trifle boring.” She nodded toward Pop. “Clive needs extra care too.”

  “You’ve never seemed to mind before. What brought on this sudden change of heart?”

  Pop sighed. “It isn’t sudden. We’ve been thinking about it for some time. Just weren’t sure how to go about it. Then we got the idea to call The Gardens and have them send someone out to talk to us. A representative came by last week, and we went over our situation with him. We liked what we heard, so we signed up, and here we are.”

  “Then it’s a done deal?”

  “Yes, dear. You’ll come around to our way of thinking when you’ve had time to adjust. Best thing we can do. Good for all of us. We’ll have a one-bedroom apartment, three hot meals a day, and all the activities folks like us can handle.” Pop beamed.

  The doorbell chimed and I went to answer. Pizza delivery. Dinner in a box. A far cry from the meal I had planned. I was so upset I devoured three pieces.

  Later, I cleaned up pizza boxes and then went to my room and called Nelda. “Guess what I got hit with tonight?”

  “What? You got hit? Anyone hurt?”

  “Hit figuratively speaking. My parents are moving to The Gardens, putting this house on the market. They told me to get an apartment. I can’t believe this.”

  Silence.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard. I’m having trouble absorbing the shock. Why did they do that?”

  “They said they got bored sitting home alone.” I could hear the aggravation in my voice. Even now that we had thrashed out all the details and I’d looked over the information from The Gardens, I still could not believe my life was about to turn upside down.

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “Betrayed. Abandoned. They did this behind my back, informing me after the decision was perpetrated.”

  “If they had told you, what would you have done?”

  “Talked them out of it, of course!”

  “That’s why they didn’t tell you. Don’t make such a fuss about it. They’re adults; if it’s what they want, go along with them.”

  “You don’t understand. This arrangement will never work out. They’ll want to come home, and if we sell the house they’ll have no home to come back to. They have not thought this through.”

  “I’ll bet they have. Pop is one smart dude. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Not this time. This time he’d made a serious miscalculation.

  FIVE

  A catastrophic mistake.

  Moving day and I still wasn’t in sync with Mom and Pop’s sudden mental collapse. They were out of their blooming minds! I’d been born in this house, lived here all my life. Overnight my nice, safe, comfortable world had taken a nosedive.

  Mom called from her bedroom. “I can’t take all these picture albums with me. If you don’t want them, we’ll send some home with your cousin Mack.”

  “What would Mack want with them?” Those albums went all the way back to Mom’s childhood. Most of those people were dead. Neither Mack nor I would know 90 percent of those people.

  Mom’s voice floated back. “He won’t want them, but Margaret will. You know her. She’ll take anything that’s free.”

  Well, yes, Aunt Margaret, Mack’s mother (and how did that woman ever raise a sweet boy like him?) was a pack rat. One trait we had in common. I saved everything. Box tops, pieces of string. Everything.

  I hated that about myself, but I hung on to stuff until forced to part with it. In my top drawer I even had headbands I’d worn in grade school. Even so, Aunt Margaret could have the surplus photo albums; Mom had doubles of everything. “Fine with me.”

  I was headed for an apartment — monthly rent, just like all those divorced men and women trying to live on half an income. I was beginning to realize how lucky I’d had it. No rent, no utilities. I had bought groceries and taken care of the cooking, cleaning, and caregiving. But Mom and Pop provided the home. Now I’d be on my own with large chunks of free time and nothing to fill the empty hours. Itty Bitty leaned against my foot, sensitive to my emotions. I stooped and ran my fingers through his short, silky white hair.

  Now it would be just the two of us. I’d have to find an apartment that allowed animals; Itty would be home alone all day and he wouldn’t like it.

  Pop called from the living room, “Johanna, you want these encyclopedias? If you don’t, we’ll put them in the sale.”

  “Sale?” I squawked. “What sale?”

  “The auction.” He sounded matter-of-fact, as if we were discussing the weather instead of my entire lifetime now going into cardboard boxes.

  I set the copper teakettle I’d been holding on the stove top and walked into the living room. “We’re having a sale?”

  He stuffed a wrapped vase into a carton. “We can take a limited number of things with us. You won’t have room for all of this junk in your apartment. Best to get rid of it.”

  I didn’t have an apartment. I didn’t want one either. “Junk? Since when did our personal possessions be
come junk?”

  “Since we don’t need them anymore. Possessions are fine as long as you need them, but when you don’t need them they turn into burdens.”

  Maybe he had a point, but I hadn’t reached that level of objectivity. To me the things I’d grown up with were memories, mementos, treasures that couldn’t be replaced. “Pop … events are moving too fast for me. Let’s not talk sale or getting rid of the house yet. Give me a little breathing space, okay? You may change your minds, and then what would you do?”

  He pulled a copy of C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters out of the bookcase. “I want to keep this.”

  “See? One more reason to keep the house for a while. Determine what we need before we have a sale.”

  He nodded, and for the briefest of moments I thought I saw mist in his eyes. He cleared his throat and reached for another book. “Honey, we thought about discussing this with you first, but would you have been any more agreeable?”

  “I don’t like change, Pop.” I thought he didn’t either. How could he and Mom think they could be happy in assisted living? Most of those folks were trying to escape the tedium of their days.

  “No one likes change, Johanna. Your mom and I have fought getting older, but God never intended for life to be the same year after year. We change. We get older. It’s life’s cycle. No use fighting it; it’s coming to every one of us.”

  Depression settled over me like a burial shroud. “Oh, Pop … I hate that we’re all getting old.”

  “Ah, honey. Praise God for every year and every grey hair. Some don’t live to see their twentieth birthday. Remember the story about how the butterfly’s wings grow strong because it has to force its way out of the cocoon?”

  Sure, I remembered the story. He’d told it to me when I was a child as we watched a butterfly striving to be born. Pop used nature in creative ways to teach me lessons about life and about God. “A man wanting to be compassionate broke open the cocoon so the butterfly could emerge without the struggle,” I recalled.

  “And what happened? The butterfly’s wings never developed the strength to fly.”

  I knew where he was heading with this and I wanted no part of it. “I’m not a butterfly.” I was a flesh-and-blood human who wanted my life to remain the same.