Fade to Blue

by Julie Carobini

  “Yeah.” He grabbed my hand and dragged. “Have to get to my Sunday school class now.”

  Callie smiled and smoothed a stray hair sticking from his head. She glanced up at me. “I’ll take him, if you want.”

  I let go of Jer’s hand, plunked a kiss on his feathery head, thanked her, and left with Gage to find seats. The sanctuary brimmed with people of all ages hugging on each other, waving across the aisles, grinning at softly uttered niceties. I frowned at my coffee mug. Obviously not as leaded as the coffee served in Fellowship Hall.

  Callie caught up with us and slid into the pew just as the first note of worship began. Something about the strum of a guitar, the lifting of voices to God, the shut-the-world-out attitude of Matt, the new worship leader, transported me out of my fatigue and worry and into his presence. I stayed there all morning, through the music, then the sermon, and even past the announcement about the covered-dish gathering on Thursday afternoon. Dragging myself from the muck and turmoil of my confusing life and focusing on God’s mercies instead calmed the ruckus in my insides.

  After service, Gage and Callie left to pick up Jer while I wandered into Fellowship Hall to fill up my travel mug. Although my soul had received a jump start, my body, still lacking sleep, needed assistance from caffeine. I found a hot carafe and pumped the top to fill my cup just as Pastor Erik strolled in and began greeting the dribble of parishioners milling about.

  His wife, Andrea, entered from a side door, snuck up behind him, and gave him a peck on the cheek. I watched him reach back and whirl her to within inches of his face, his eyes animated.

  Ever since Callie told me about their marriage troubles, I’d chafed at seeing them together, thinking I couldn’t not judge Andrea for her past. But at this moment, seeing them carefree and out in the open about their relationship, that trepidation gave way to hope. In them I saw a breathing miracle, and though I couldn’t seem to find one for myself, their story bolstered my faith.

  “Mama!” Jer bounded into the hall and threw himself against my legs. “I had a donut!”

  “You did? Isn’t that fabulous?” I wondered how my sarcasm would translate to a four-year-old.

  Gage smothered a smile. “He had two. Happy day. If you girls want to linger awhile, I’ll take him out to the playground to run off some of that sugar.”

  I touched Callie’s arm and nodded to my brother. “That’d be great. Give us a few minutes?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I spotted a quiet corner of the room and nodded to the empty space. “Can we sit?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  Callie and I commandeered the two comfortable chairs far away from the after-church stragglers. “You’ve been lost in your head for days. Something you want to talk about?”

  “I was just noticing Pastor Erik and Andrea. They look so happy. I’d never have known about their problems if you hadn’t mentioned them.”

  She nodded.

  “And it got me thinking . . . Do you think I should have fought harder for my marriage?”

  The edges of her eyes drooped and she let out a sigh. “Oh, Suz. When I told you about them, I wasn’t trying to put something onto you.”

  “I know, I know.”

  She wiggled forward in her chair, as if readying for battle. Or at least an old-fashioned pep talk. “You weren’t around then, but Pastor Erik did a whole sermon on divorce. It’s a touchy topic with us church folk, and I think he wanted to clear a few things up. I remember it well because a high school friend was going through a nasty divorce at the time. When she heard Erik and Andrea worked things out, she also worried that she’d given up too soon.”

  “How’d she come to terms with that?”

  “She didn’t, not at first. She stepped right back into an emotionally abusive relationship, and it was a very dark time for her. For all of us who stood helplessly by. Erik and some of the church elders finally talked her into leaving him.”

  “Really?”

  “Suz, God doesn’t like divorce, but sometimes it is necessary. We can’t say that it’s good or his will, because we know it hurts his heart. The point is, it may not be his desire, but he gives his permission for it in certain circumstances. He offers grace for your healing too.”

  She hung her head and breathed deeply before riveting her gaze back on me. “Len treated you and Jer terribly. He cheated on you. Stole from you. Lived a life of crime that put you in great jeopardy. I’ve watched you accept him back into your lives, and you’ve been noble and caring about it.” She paused. “But his newfound faith doesn’t mean you have to give him full access to your heart again. As your friend and your sister in Christ, believe me when I say that God loves you fully the way you are and where you are in your life. He wants to give you the desires of your heart—and we all want to see you set free of guilt and drama.”

  Lately I’d begun to feel suffocated by decisions as if they were enemies. The lowly sea anemone pinched off its tentacles to disengage from predators. What might it be like to have this ultimate defensive move in my repertoire?

  “Does what I’m saying make sense?”

  With a gratefulness welling from within, I gave my sister-in-law-to-be a hopeful smile. “It does. Thanks so much, Callie.” Her reassurances shook me in a way, reminding me that it did no good to dredge up the same weary battle over and over again.

  Especially one that I’d already won.

  “Don’t forget to pack your pillow this time, Jer!”

  Last time we stayed at the cabin, Jeremiah groused about having to lay his head on a pillow made from feathers. I tried to explain to him the value of down but he wouldn’t believe me. “I like Uncle Gage’s pillows better.”

  My brother cringed when I’d told him this on Monday morning. “Those pillows you’ve been sleeping on are an embarrassment. I meant to replace them but . . .”

  “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. We showed up on a bachelor’s doorstep and were happy to get four walls and a roof.” I laughed. “And milk in the fridge that hadn’t passed its expiration date.”

  Jer traipsed into the living room where I sat organizing my purse and Gage read the newspaper. “Okay, Mama. I got my pillow and my Giants blanket.”

  “Great. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. I put cars in my suitcase.”

  “You didn’t take out all your clothes, did you?”

  He wagged his head fast, then slower, and then stopped all together. “Uh-oh.” He spun on sock feet and slipped back toward the hall.

  I looked to my brother who resumed his reading. “Did he think I wouldn’t notice that he had no clean underwear in his suitcase?”

  Gage smiled weakly.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing really.” He folded the paper and tossed it into the magazine rack next to his chair. “You know you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. Even after Callie and I get married.”

  I nodded. “May have to.”

  “So wouldn’t it be easier to stay here and just spend the days painting at the cabin? The light’s better during the day anyway, and besides, won’t Jer make it tough on you?”

  “We’ve been over this, big bro.”

  He grimaced. “I know. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “Of course.”

  He sighed. “I’ll hold you to it. And if I don’t hear from you, I might have to take a drive up there.”

  “I’m shakin’.” I laughed and tucked lipstick into the side pocket of my purse. After locating Jer’s wayward sneaker and wrestling it on to his foot, I gathered our suitcases and headed to the car. I planned to drop off Jer at school, then head up the hill to move in, assess the walls, and pull together a shopping list for the art store.

  I arrived at the cabin later than planned, an unending list of errands slowing my pace—one of the perils of being a full-time working mom. Soon enough, I’d find myself in my car on the way to pick up Jer from preschool.

  When I stepped into t
he little cabin, I shivered. The past few days had left a chill in the place, and I sucked in a breath while quickly digging through my bags for a sweater. The wood floors moaned as I padded around, unpacking and placing important items—such as fuzzy socks and boxes of chai tea—in plain view.

  The scent of dry wood stacked on the living room hearth drew me to the floor where I kneeled and tossed slivers of timber into the fireplace. I could see Jer and me happy here, playing games by the fire or working on homework in this cozy room as he grew older. Some might say that the old place smelled musty, past its prime, but I loved it. It smelled like history to me. I wondered about the people whose feet had passed through these rooms, wearing the wood smooth in places.

  Seth once dreamed of building a log cabin in the woods, an A-frame in particular. I sat up on my haunches, my bottom pressing into my heels. Where had that memory been hiding? Soon after we met, I remembered walking along the river’s edge with him. He grabbed a branch shaped like a Y from the weeds and pointed it across the surface of the water.

  “There,” he said. “That’s where I’m going to build my cabin some day.”

  I scrunched my face, trying to picture his imagined Shangri-la. “Will this be before or after you travel the world?”

  He flipped the stick upside down and leaned into it, the Y portion digging into the earth, his eyes studying the sky. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  He grinned and leaned over, kissing me softly on the mouth. “On you. It all depends on you.”

  My throat caught at the memory. I broke a twig in two and tossed it onto the stack of wood in the cold fireplace, my mind hovering between the past and the present. Had those two worlds merged inside my mind? I rocked on my heels. Nothing stood between Seth and me now. Not Holly, or Len—so why couldn’t I allow myself to dream bigger when it came to us?

  You’ve been afraid.

  Fresh tears pricked the rims of my eyes. I’ve made mistakes before and let my emotions get the better of me. How could I be certain I wouldn’t make any again?

  My grace is sufficient for you.

  Shame attempted to coil itself around and through my ribs, constricting my breathing. But . . . when I married Len, I did what felt safe. I was blinded by grief and fear and did what seemed right in my own eyes. I forced myself to breathe. And I let you down, Lord.

  My power is made perfect in your weakness.

  My heart surged. Jeremiah. Despite my failed marriage, I’d been blessed with a beautiful son. How could I continue to hold on to fears, to my mistakes? A tear trickled down the side of my cheek and dribbled off my chin. I tossed a final stick into the fireplace and stood.

  Why wait another minute to tell Seth how I feel about him? How I . . . love him?

  A creak echoed through the kitchen, silencing my thoughts. I swiped my cheek with the back of my hand and moved to investigate. I stepped over the narrow threshold into the kitchen, and it happened again. The wind had found a way to rattle the back door’s scarred window.

  With a shake of my head, I slipped back into the living room, then down the short hall to the bedroom. Our suitcases lay on the bed, half emptied, and I determined to finish unpacking, still dreaming of moving into this old place. When my cell rang, the beat of my heart sped up. I glanced at the number on the screen, but it wasn’t Seth. “Hey, Letty.”

  “Are you covered in glowing green paint yet?”

  “Ha ha. I’m going to try to keep the paint on the walls this time. Of course, once Jer’s here with me . . .”

  “Then no doubt you will be washing paint out of your hair.”

  “Funny. Did you want something?”

  “If you are asking whether my car is running, it is.” She laughed. “I only wanted to check on my friend. Are you good?”

  “Let me see. I’m surrounded by blank walls, nestled in the pines, and dancing around on wooden floors in my stocking feet. Yeah, I’m good.”

  “And you are planning to stay there for a time today?”

  I tilted my head to one side and squinted. “Ye-es.”

  “Good. I am happy for you.”

  “You sure you didn’t want something in particular, Leticia?”

  “My, you are a suspicious lady. I have to go now. Ta-ta.”

  Ta-ta?

  I dropped my phone onto the bed, finished unpacking our clothes, then went in search of my paint supplies. Thanks to that job Gage found for me soon after moving here, the one painting the walls of Callie’s house, I’d been able to embellish my paltry supply of brushes and other tools. Sadly, I hadn’t touched them since.

  Wisps of light carried in through the filmy curtains in the living room, casting the space in a filtered glow. A creak rang out through the kitchen again, this time causing me no concern.

  I found my supply box and settled into the couch, barely noticing that another creak from that kitchen door groaned louder than before.

  When a click followed, I looked up, startled. “Fred?”

  No answer.

  I craned my neck toward the doorway but saw nothing out of order. I set the box onto the cushion next to me and stood when the familiar sound of floorboards shifting pricked my ears.

  “Hello? Is anybody there?”

  A trickle scurried up my ribs. I froze. Another creak, another shift in the floorboards.

  Len appeared in the doorway.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “You scared me to death.”

  “Couldn’t be helped.”

  “How did you . . . ?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “You’re easy.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’ve been watching you for weeks. Not very observant, Suz.”

  I swallowed. “You didn’t need to spy. All you had to do was ask.” Déjà vu. Hadn’t we had this conversation before?

  He puffed out his lips and glanced around. “Nice place. You must be doing all right.”

  I faced him. “Next time knock. And use the front door while you’re at it.”

  He coughed out a laugh. “You’ve gotten to be a pushy broad. Can’t say that I like the change.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Len? Why are you here, creeping around my house?”

  He tucked his chin toward his chest, his eyes wide. “Your house? Well. You’re doing better than I thought. Much better.”

  I shook my head. “The owner hired me to decorate the walls. Maybe some day, if I make enough, I’ll be able to live here full time. For the time being, I’m just staying while I work.”

  “Or you could stay in the shed as I’ve been doing. You could afford that now, couldn’t you?”

  My blood chilled, coursing its way through my veins like finely crushed ice. I opened my mouth to speak, to lay into Len, but no words would come. Instead of the repentant man I’d come to expect, Len had boldly stepped inside these four walls, his face an image from the past. Had he really changed at all?

  “The shed? Is that where you’ve been sleeping?”

  He flicked his head toward the back door. “It’s not much, but it kept me somewhat warm at night. Discovered it that first night when I followed you and Jeremiah up here. You were having yourself a girlie party with that woman from work; otherwise I might have stopped in to say hello.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Good.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I tried to do things your way, Suzanna. I brought you flowers, played with the kid, sent you a love letter, but you’re impossible.” He unfolded his hands and reached behind his back, retrieving a pistol. He spun it in around his finger. “So now we play it my way.”

  I rocked back on my heels. “Just tell me what you want.”

  He gave me an exaggerated shrug. “Fine. I want access to the studio, and all those priceless works of art.”

  The past and all its ugliness stood before me. The coldness that had fallen through me in sheets began to simmer. “I’m not the owner. I can�
��t get in there any time I want.”

  “You have a key.”

  “I don’t.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  He stepped closer until only the small living room couch separated us, a gun shining in his hand. “Then you’ll have to figure something out. You won’t see Jeremiah until you’ve figured out how to get me into that studio.”

  If he had thrown a punch to my windpipe, the blow wouldn’t hurt this much. I gasped for a breath. “What . . . have . . . you . . . done?”

  “He’s fine, of course. You didn’t think I’d hurt a child, did you?”

  I blinked. “I left him at preschool this morning.”

  He smirked. “With stupid people who couldn’t protect a bowl of fruit.”

  I remembered the day the receptionist so easily gave away information about Jer’s whereabouts. What if what Len told me now was true? Why didn’t I pull Jer out of that school right then?

  “He’s with my girlfriend now. You know her as my parole officer’s secretary.” He cackled.

  “Your . . . girlfriend?” My eyes fought to stay open, faintness attempting to overtake me.

  “She just got into town. Under other circumstances, you two might have been friends.” He shrugged, oblivious to the pain his careless words caused. “I won’t tell you where she’s taking him until you’ve taken care of what I want.”

  Panic replaced my initial shock at Len’s announcement. The space behind my eyes and my nose began to fill. As I willed myself not to cry, the sound of crackling pine needles and the crunch of tires on the driveway wafted in from outside. A car door shut and footsteps approached. Len came around the couch and stood uncomfortably close. Too close.

  “Expecting company?”

  I gave a vehement shake of my head. A knock on the door threatened to prove otherwise.

  Len shoved the gun under a couch cushion, then leaned close, his voice a harsh whisper. “Remember, you won’t see Jer unless I get what I came for. Now, answer it.”

  I tried to steady my heart with a quick breath. No use. I opened the door and stepped backward. Seth stood there, his eyes bright, mischievous almost, his smile quirked up at one corner, just like it used to do . . . when we were in love.