Ribbon of Years

by Robin Lee Hatcher

"Jacob, don't throw it away," she whispered. "You'll always be sorry. God gave you a family. Don't throw it away."

  "It's not a good sign when you start talking to yourself, honey."

  She turned around, leaning her backside against the sink and crossing her arms over her chest.

  Standing in the kitchen doorway, Del stopped smiling when he saw her expression. "What is it?"

  "I just got off the telephone with Mrs. Finch."

  "And . . .?"

  "She said Elaine threw Jacob out of the house this afternoon. He's staying with Uncle Mooney and Aunt Theodora for the time being. She said they're getting a divorce."

  Del whistled softly between his teeth. "That bad?"

  "I don't know what to do—" she lifted her hands in a gesture of confusion—"or should I do anything?"

  Her husband didn't offer a suggestion. He simply watched and waited.

  Miriam turned toward the window again. "Those children. What will happen to them if their parents go through with a divorce? How will Elaine manage?"

  Del's hands alighted on her shoulders. "Let's pray for them. Let's ask God what He wants us to do to help our friends."

  "I need to ask for forgiveness, too." She pressed the side of her head against the back of his hand. "I hung up on Mrs. Finch."

  Del chuckled as he leaned closer and kissed her cheek. "I'm sure He's already forgiven you, sweetheart. After all, you're only human."

  Miriam did pray. She prayed with Del, and she prayed alone. She prayed briefly, and she prayed long and hard. She prayed as she went about her daily life, and she prayed on her knees beside her bed. But after three days, she still couldn't say she'd received a clear direction from the Lord.

  The rumor about town was that Jacob had been seen every night that week at the roadhouse west of town. "Sloshed to the gills" was the descriptive term she'd heard. Her heart ached for her friend every time she thought of him, which was frequently.

  Equally disturbing to Miriam was listening to Sally as she went on and on about Hadley. To hear the girl describe him, he was Gregory Peck, Errol Flynn, and Marlon Brando, all rolled into one. He was handsome. He was smart. He was considerate. He was perfect in every conceivable way.

  Miriam had no reason to believe that any of that wasn't true. Except for the words of warning that still echoed in her heart: BEHOLD, SATAN DEMANDED TO HAVE YOU, THAT HE MIGHT SIFT YOU LIKE WHEAT.

  "My parents are letting me go with Hadley to Boise on Saturday," Sally said as she dried a glass bowl and put it on the shelf with the rest. "There's an exhibition game at the college and a dance afterward."

  The feather duster stilled in Miriam's hand as she stared across the aisle at the teenager. Trying to quell the sick feeling in her stomach, she said, "That will get you home awfully late, won't it?"

  "Yes, but since I'll be with Hadley, Mom said it would be okay this once."

  "The roads could be icy. We might get more snow before the weekend."

  "Hadley's a good driver. He won't let anything happen to us."

  SIFT YOU LIKE WHEAT . . .

  "You worry too much, Mrs. Tucker. You get just like this when Mr. Tucker goes to Boise. I promise to tell Hadley to drive slow if the weather's bad. Okay?"

  It wasn't Hadley's driving that had Miriam concerned. There was something about that boy . . .

  Sally smiled to herself as she remembered Hadley's parting kiss last night. They'd stood on the sidewalk, out of reach of the porch light's glow. Sally had shivered in the cold, despite her coat.

  "Here," Hadley had said. "Let me keep you warm."

  He'd opened his coat, then closed it around her, drawing her against him.

  She really hadn't been any closer to him than when they'd danced together. Yet it had seemed very different to Sally. Thrilling. Frightening.

  She wouldn't have admitted it to Hadley, but she'd never been kissed before. She hadn't known at first what he meant to do when he'd lowered his mouth toward hers. She'd looked at him, her head tipped back. Then he'd kissed her.

  Sally closed her eyes, reveling in the memory. She hadn't known a kiss could be like that!

  I love you, Hadley Abernathy. I'd do anything to make you love me, too.

  "Sally . . ."

  Miriam's voice drew her unwillingly from her reverie.

  "Remember when you told me you wanted to get married to someone who would love you the way Mr. Tucker loves me?"

  It was kind of spooky. As if Miriam had read her thoughts or something. "Sure, I remember."

  Miriam sat down on one of the stools and leaned toward Sally. "You understand that it's hard work, don't you?"

  "What is?"

  "Love."

  Sally frowned. How could love be hard work? It wasn't hard with Hadley. She just loved him, and it made her feel warm all over. Warm and . . . scared.

  "Do me a favor, Sally."

  "What?"

  "Remember that we have to live with the decisions we make. No matter how innocent our intentions, there are always consequences, good or bad, one or the other."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  Miriam took Sally's hand. "Maybe not now. But there'll come a time when you will, and when it comes, remember that God doesn't allow us to be tempted beyond what we can withstand. He'll provide a way of escape for His own if we but listen."

  "Fiddlesticks, Mrs. Tucker. You're starting to sound like our pastor." Sally withdrew her hand.

  "Maybe so. But, Sally—"

  "I think I'd better get those shelves stocked now. Excuse me."

  Sally hurried toward the back of the store, not certain what Miriam Tucker had been trying to say but positive she didn't want to listen.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SECRETLY, MIRIAM PRAYED FOR A MAJOR BLIZZARD TO ROLL through the county before Saturday morning, closing roads and keeping folks at home—Hadley Abernathy and his hot rod in particular. What happened instead was a warming trend, with temperatures reaching into the high fifties, the heavens clear and blue.

  But Miriam forgot all about her prayer request when Del served her breakfast in bed. On the tray, between the glass of orange juice and a plate of pancakes, was her anniversary present. She opened the velvet box to discover a beautiful heart-shaped pendant with a small diamond-studded cross in its center.

  "Oh, darling. It's exquisite." She looked up to meet his gaze.

  "Not as exquisite as you are." He placed one knee on the mattress. "Here. Let me put it on you."

  Miriam leaned forward as Del took the necklace from its box. In only a moment, he had the clasp fastened. She fingered the pendant, thinking how very blessed she was to have this man as her husband.

  "How does supper at the Cliff Dweller sound?" Del asked as he settled onto the bed beside her.

  "Wonderful. Except the prices are outrageous."

  "Miriam, let's do this." He nuzzled her right earlobe. "Our anniversary only rolls around once a year."

  Gooseflesh rose along her right arm, and she shivered with pleasure. "All right. You win." She gave him a playful push. "But let me eat my breakfast or we'll never get the store open on time."

  "Hmm. Maybe that's what I had in mind."

  "What was that about?" Del asked as Miriam hung up the telephone shortly after twelve-thirty that afternoon.

  "It was Dad. He's too busy to come over for lunch, so he asked if I'd bring him something."

  "He needs to hire more help."

  "I know." She shrugged. "Deep down, he knows it, too, but he's too stubborn to admit it. I think he's afraid it'll be like saying he's old."

  Del gave her a wry grin. "From where I'm sitting, fifty-six doesn't look so old."

  Miriam laughed softly as she headed for the lunch counter.

  A short while later, she took a towel-covered plate over to the drugstore, entering through the back door. She greeted Lou, the part-time pharmacist, then set the plate on the desk.

  "He's out front," Lou said.

  She nodded as her gaze scanned
the store. She found her dad in the far left aisle. She was already walking in his direction before she caught sight of his customer.

  Jacob McAllister.

  Over her dad's shoulder, her gaze met with Jacob's. Despairing eyes, empty, hopeless. Sorrow filled her heart.

  Give me the right words, Lord.

  "Hello, Jacob."

  He murmured her name, swaying slightly, then righting himself.

  He's been drinking.

  Giving herself a moment to gather her thoughts, she looked at her dad. "I brought you a tuna salad sandwich. It's on your desk."

  "Thanks, pixie." Understanding in his eyes, Frank patted her shoulder, then said to Jacob, "That all you need?"

  Jacob nodded.

  "Then if you'll excuse me." He left the two of them together at the front of the store.

  "Guess you heard about me and Elaine."

  "Yes, I heard. I'm awfully sorry. I . . . I wanted to come see you, but I didn't know what to say."

  "Elaine should have that problem." His words were tinged with bitterness. "Unfortunately, she always has something to say."

  Miriam reached out, placing her fingers on his forearm. "The situation isn't hopeless unless you let it be. Maybe if you and Elaine went to see Pastor Desmond or another minister, you could—"

  "The marriage is over. It's been over almost from the start."

  "How can you say that? You have three children."

  He shook off her touch. "Having children doesn't mean a marriage is working. Besides, I don't love her."

  "Love can be a choice, Jacob," she said softly. "You can choose to love Elaine if you want."

  "That's just it," he replied, lowering his voice to match hers and leaning toward her at the same time. "I don't want. And I can't have what I do want."

  In his alcohol-glazed eyes, Miriam saw somediing she'd chosen not to see in recent years. She'd wanted her best friend back in her life, so she'd pretended she couldn't see what was diere. She'd pretended so well that she'd blinded herself to the truth.

  What was it she'd said to Sally a few days before? Something like, no matter how innocent the intentions, there are always consequences, good or bad, for every choice, every action.

  Suddenly, she was angry, more with herself than with Jacob. She slapped him. Hard. He stiffened and drew back, eyes wide.

  "You're a stubborn, stupid, irritating fool." Her voice shook with rage. "You don't know how lucky you are or what you're throwing away." She shook her finger at him, as if he were a delinquent child. "You're like a horse, trying so hard to get that green shoot of grass on the other side of the fence, when you're standing right smack-dab in the middle of knee-high alfalfa."

  "Miriam, I—"

  "Let me make something perfectly clear. You and I have never been and could never be anything but friends. Even if I wasn't in love with my husband, which I am and always have been, you and I would only be friends. Why couldn't you see that? Are you really that blind?"

  "But—"

  "Do what's right for a change, Jacob. For your own sake and the sake of your family. Quit acting like a spoiled brat."

  Without a backward glance, she turned on her heel and strode out of the drugstore.

  Sally thought the day had been about as perfect as it could be. Riding in Hadley's hot rod. Spending the afternoon amid excited football fans. Being referred to as "Hadley's girlfriend." Supper at the Royal, the nicest restaurant in Boise. And now the drive home, with stars twinkling overhead and Hadley's right arm draped over her shoulders.

  It was like a wonderful dream.

  He knows I love him. And he loves me too. I can tell by the way he looks at me, by all the times he's kissed me.

  The hot rod slowed.

  "Sit up a second, baby," Hadley said, taking his arm from around her shoulders, then gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

  The automobile jerked forward, then slowed again.

  "What's the matter?" Sally asked.

  "Not sure. I'd better pull over and check it out."

  A moment later, the hot rod rolled onto a gravel crossroad, following it down a gentle slope. At the bottom of the hill, Hadley turned off the engine—or did it die on its own?—and the headlights went out. Darkness enveloped the car, as did a chill.

  "Hadley?"

  "It's okay. I've got something in the back to keep us warm. You know, for emergencies. I'm sure the engine just needs to rest a bit. This one's sort of temperamental sometimes."

  Sally shivered. "Shouldn't you get out and have a look?"

  "Not yet." He reached behind the seat and retrieved a blanket, spreading it over them both. "Better get you warm first." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  She came stiffly.

  "Hey, baby. Relax. You've got nothing to worry about as long as you're with me."

  Of course she didn't. He wouldn't let anything bad happen. He loved her, same as she loved him. Hadley would take care of her.

  Beneath the cover, he stroked her arm. Slow, soothing strokes. Then he kissed her.

  It was okay at first. She liked his kisses. Then something changed. Something subtle and indefinable, but a change all the same. Sally's heart pounded, her pulse raced.

  "Ah, baby," Hadley whispered, "you make me crazy."

  "There are always consequences, good or bad."

  The memory of Miriam's words caused Sally to draw back from Hadley, but he wouldn't allow her to go far. His arms tightened, bringing her close again. Kissing her. Touching her. Making her feel like a queen instead of a roach.

  In her mind, she saw Mr. Tucker kissing Mrs. Tucker, saw the tenderness, the love, the devotion. This wasn't the same.

  She turned her head away. "Stop."

  "Oh, come on, Sally. You want this as bad as I do. Don't hold out on me now." He placed his lips next to her left ear and whispered, "Nobody says no to me, baby. Not to Hadley."

  A sick feeling twisted her stomach. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them back. "I'm not your baby. Get the car started and take me home."

  "Hey, we got a couple hours before your mom said you had to be back." There was a hint of anger in his tone. "What's the hurry? Didn't I show you a good time today? Didn't I take you to the harvest dance? There were plenty of other girls I could've asked instead. Come here and show me how grateful you are. Come on and—"

  GET OUT!

  The words in her heart seemed like a shout, too strong not to obey. With a jerk of the door handle and a hard push, the passenger door was open, and Sally scrambled out into the inky night.

  "What the—?"

  Sally moved as quickly as she could in the direction of the highway.

  "Are you crazy?" Hadley shouted.

  "Not anymore," Sally answered as she climbed the hillside, but she was speaking to herself rather than to him.

  Miriam and Del didn't go to the Cliff Dweller for supper. They didn't go anywhere for their anniversary. They stayed home, where Del could hold Miriam while she cried and poured out her heart.

  "I was cruel to him," she whispered finally. "I could have been gentle. I could have tried to show him the more excellent way, like the Bible says. Instead—" her voice caught on a sob—"I . . . I slapped him."

  Del wouldn't mind knocking Jacob up alongside the head a time or two himself, but he didn't say so to Miriam.

  "I slapped him right there for all the customers in the drugstore and anybody walking down Main Street to see. Oh, the gossips must be having a heyday right now."

  "Don't you worry—they'll have something new to talk about tomorrow."

  "However will I face Elaine? I'll have to sometime, but what can I say to her?"

  "The failure of their marriage isn't your fault, hon."

  In a quavering voice, she replied, "No. But maybe I could have helped save it if only I'd realized what Jacob was thinking."

  Del kissed her on the forehead. "Why don't we go see her tomorrow after church? Together. Maybe we can still help. Yo
u never know."

  Tears welled in her eyes. "Thanks for understanding," she said softly. "Thanks for loving me."

  "That's the easy part, sweetheart. That's the easy part."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MIRIAM SCARCELY HEARD THE PASTOR'S SERMON. SHE WAS TOO busy anticipating their call to the McAllister home. She kept imagining different scenarios, ways that she and Del might help bring the estranged couple together.

  The congregation rose to sing the closing hymn. Miriam reached for the hymnal. The church organ hit a sour note, and when Miriam looked up, the sanctuary swam before her eyes. She thought she heard Del say her name, but she couldn't be certain for the sudden whirring sound in her ears. Then everything went black.

  She awakened in the aisle to find Dr. Carson's kindly old face smiling down at her. "Here she is," he said.

  Del leaned over her next. "You scared the living daylights out of me, sweetheart."

  "And me," she heard her dad say, although he was out of her line of vision.

  "Sorry." She tried to rise, but a hand on her shoulder kept her down.

  "Not yet, Miriam," Dr. Carson said. "I want to know why you fainted before I let you go home." He looked at Del. "Let's get her to my office."

  "Such a lot of fuss over nothing," she protested—to no avail.

  Jacob nearly turned and left before Elaine opened the front door in answer to his knock. Once she saw it was him, he thought she might slam it in his face.

  "Can we talk?" he said quickly.

  She frowned. "What about?"

  "Can I come in first? It's kinda cold out here."

  "I guess it's okay." She stepped back, begrudgingly giving him entrance.

  Jacob glanced into the living room. "Where're the kids?"

  "The girls went to church with the neighbors. Mac's sleeping." She massaged her forehead with the fingertips of one hand. "What do you want, Jacob?"

  "I want another chance."

  Her eyes widened. Her mouth thinned.

  "Look, Elaine, I know I've made a royal mess of things, and I'd understand if you wouldn't let me back. But I'm asking you to, all the same."

  "Why?"

  "Well, for one thing—" he looked at the floor—"a wise friend pointed out that I was actin' like a spoiled brat and didn't know what I was throwin' away."