Desert Gift

by Sally John

  Jill said, “This program was my last one.”

  “Oh, Mrs. G.”

  “Will you call me Jill, please?”

  “O-okay.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, I can’t exactly keep up this show about how to make marriage work when my own isn’t working.”

  “I always thought it was more about how to communicate better.”

  Jill felt her eyes widen.

  “I mean, you know of course that I’m single. But I picked up priceless gems on how to relate better with my parents and friends. Even patients. And now I’m dating this guy and, well, thank you.”

  “You listen to the program?”

  “Some. Not all the time. I have to admit that it was intimidating to hear you on the radio, knowing your voice was broadcast all over Chicagoland and beyond, and then to take messages from you for Dr. G.”

  “Hm.” She had no other response.

  “What will you do now?”

  It was the question that woke her up in the night. The answer never changed. As Nan had announced, she was taking a sabbatical. It couldn’t happen in Chicago in her house with no work, no Connor, no Jack.

  She cleared her throat. “Just between us? I have to be the one to tell Jack.”

  “Not a problem. You have no idea how much I don’t tell him. For his own good.”

  Jill had to smile. “I’m going out to California. Indefinitely.” Definitely no more than two weeks at Viv and Marty’s, though. She was already apartment hunting online. “I’ll help out my sister in her tour business for a while.”

  “That sounds like a break you probably need, but I hope you’ll write and speak more. Your book is fantastic. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my boss’s wife.”

  Jill shook her head in surprise and smiled. She had wanted to burn all the copies, but the publisher refused to pull even one off the shelf. It was selling. Gretchen thought current blog gossip about the Galloways’ breakup accounted for some of it.

  Sophie said, “I’ve started my own recipe collection for talking with patients.”

  “You have a cookbook in the works!” Jill laughed. “Tell me more.”

  They chatted, the old barriers of jealousy and intimidation melting away to nothingness.

  Chapter 57

  Jack checked the caller ID on his ringing cell phone, saw Jill’s name, and took a quick internal survey.

  It seemed a stupid habit, this emotional temperature check. He hadn’t felt like snapping in a long time. Was that because he hadn’t lived with Jill for two months and hadn’t talked to her at all recently? or because he had confessed everything to her and neither she nor God had struck him dead?

  He muted the television. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Jack.”

  Silence—on both ends.

  He scratched his head.

  “Awkward moment between the ’rents.” For good reason. Where could they pick up after their last conversation in which he said he wanted out of the marriage and she said, “Leave the key”?

  She said, “How are you?”

  “Okay. You?”

  “Okay. I’m sorry about the key. It’s just that you scared me that night.”

  “I know. Actually I still have a garage opener.”

  “Oh.”

  Household details like this were unending and driving him nuts. Bank accounts, bills, credit cards, some of his clothes still there, some cookware, tools, boots, golf clubs.

  He said, “I won’t come inside without telling you first.”

  “It’s still your house too. I was just scared.”

  “All right.”

  “Well, I, um, I called to tell you that I’m in San Diego. Just arrived. So you can go inside the house whenever you want.”

  “San Diego? Why . . . ? What . . . ?” He couldn’t get his mind wrapped around what she had said.

  “The truth is, Jack, you can move back into the house. I don’t want to live in it.”

  “But where would you live?”

  “Out here. I’m staying out here for a—a while. I can work with Viv. She’s coming into the busy season.”

  “Jill, why would you do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You don’t live with me. Connor’s moving to New York.”

  “But your work here—”

  “Is changing and that’s not your fault. It’s time for me to talk less and listen more. Jack, I want to say once and for all that I forgive you for keeping the abortion a secret. I understand why you couldn’t tell me. I never meant to make you think that you had to be perfect, but I know I did. I hope you can forgive me. I do love you, but I’ll sign divorce papers. Send them to Viv’s. And . . . and that’s all. Good-bye.”

  He felt dazed, as if her rushed words circled his head, searching for a place to land.

  “I said good-bye, Jack.” She hadn’t hung up.

  “Uh, uh—”

  “I have to go. Viv’s here now.”

  “Uh, okay. Bye.”

  Now she hung up.

  “I forgive you. . . . I hope you can forgive me. . . . I do love you. . . .”

  Jack set down the phone. He didn’t feel anything like a rubber band stretched to its snapping point. He wasn’t sure what he felt besides empty.

  He hit the Mute button on the television remote and let his attention drift again into the history of wildlife on the Mississippi River.

  * * *

  In the harsh light of morning, Jill’s news struck him like the proverbial two-by-four to the side of the head.

  Their marriage was over.

  The sense of finality chilled him to the bone. It filled his veins with ice water.

  He cut himself twice while shaving. He dropped his full coffee mug. It shattered and splashed across the kitchen floor. He let it go and sat on the couch. He stayed there for at least an hour, unmoving, his thoughts frozen in place.

  And then he called Lew Mowers.

  He sat now in the pastor’s office. There had been no waiting for an appointment for Jill Galloway’s husband. Lew and his wife adored her as did hundreds of congregants.

  Why didn’t Jack?

  Lew was a big guy, a man’s man with steel gray hair cut in military style who somehow exuded an almost-feminine compassion. His jovial smile had yet to appear. He nodded and hummed agreement throughout Jack’s story.

  Jack ended with Jill’s news. “It’s what I wanted. But it’s not what I wanted. I sound like an adolescent.”

  “Or, some would say, like a man having a midlife crisis. I don’t like labels myself, but you are in midlife and you are having a crisis of identity.” He shrugged. “Back up to the time period you and Jill interacted while preparing for Connor’s wedding. What was it like between the two of you?”

  Jack felt himself blush. They had been intimate. Biological need or loving response to their shared days? “Uh, we put the divorce question on hold and focused on other things.” Not counting that one night. “And, uh, Jill was in a good place.”

  “Her usual self?”

  Her usual self. As in freaking out, stressing out, bossing others, interviewing-slash-interrogating everyone, recording ideas for future lesson plans? No.

  “No, she was not her usual self. There was a . . . softness about her. She was relaxed.”

  “She’d been through a lot up to that point. Your wanting a divorce. Connor and Emma’s surprise. The accident and seeing her friend die. Planning a wedding, which throws most women into a tizzy. What was up with the relaxed persona?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Stress like she experienced usually brings out the worst in a person. Unless it breaks them and God works a healing.”

  Jack blinked. Jill had not been at her worst, but . . . “It seems a little pat.”

  Lew shrugged again. “At any rate, it’s her story, not yours. God can remake her until the cows come home but that’s not going to change your story, is it?”

  Jack returned his gaze for a long moment. “My st
ory being that I blame her for my guinea pig lifestyle and now it’s her fault that my only feeling toward her is a rubber band stretched to its limits.”

  “Oh, it’s already done snapped, Jack. It’s over. The past is over. From here on out is your choice. Choose life with or without God’s forgiveness and healing.”

  Tears sprang to his eyes. “How do I choose with?”

  Lew smiled. “Spend some time on your knees and then do what He tells you to do. Want me to help you get started?”

  * * *

  “Dr. G!” Sophie practically jumped from her chair as he entered the office. She called out across the counter into the waiting room, “Where have you been? It’s ten forty-five!”

  “I left a message—”

  “Hours ago!” She was behaving un-Sophie-like again.

  Jack stole a glance at the gawking patients and hurried through the door into the back area. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  Strands of hair had escaped the bun and hung about her mottled face. “And where is your cell phone? It’s in your pocket, isn’t it? Turned off, isn’t it?”

  “Oops.” He pulled the phone from a deep pocket of his raincoat and glanced at it. Eight missed calls, most likely from Sophie. “I’m sorry. What did you need?”

  “You! Just go.” She shooed him down the hall. “Oh. Happy birthday.”

  “Birthday—It’s my birthday. I hadn’t given it a thought. Thanks.”

  Sophie pointed toward his office. “Hurry.”

  Smiling, he walked down the hall. Sophie was flustered because it was his birthday and he was behind her surprise schedule. She remembered everyone’s day with something special. He expected to find balloons tied to his chair, a wrapped gift and a cake on his desk, a homemade carrot cake.

  He entered his office and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Odd, but then everything had seemed odd since kneeling with Lew earlier. Odd and amazing. The world looked different, almost off-kilter and yet more right than ever. He’d never be able to describe it to Baxter.

  Jack wasn’t quite sure how to transition into doctor mode. He hung up his overcoat and put on his lab coat. Maybe that would help.

  “Knock, knock.” Baxter entered his office, a radio in his hand, Sophie on his heels.

  She shut the door. “Happy birthday, Dr. G.”

  “Oh yeah,” Baxter said. “Birthday greetings, bud.”

  “Thanks. Is that my gift?” He nodded at the radio.

  “It might be.” Baxter smiled and set it on his desk.

  “Sit, Dr. G.” Sophie nudged him toward his chair while Baxter plugged in the radio. “Now—” she took a deep breath and smoothed back her hair—“since you are so late, we have to skip over staff gifts and go straight to this.” She pointed at the radio. “This is a birthday gift from Mrs. G. She asked me to make sure you heard her program today.”

  Jack sank into his chair. Jill had set something up for him? And he thought his time with Lew was a surprise.

  Baxter turned on the radio and adjusted the volume. “We’re going to listen with you.”

  Jack gave them a puzzled look.

  Sophie sat and straightened her skirt over her knees. “Because we don’t know if this is a good thing or not. She didn’t tell me that part.”

  Jack smiled. “Of course it’s a good thing. It’s from my wife.”

  * * *

  It was both a good thing and not.

  Jack’s smile waned a bit as he met Sophie’s tearful gaze and Baxter’s somber expression. He said, “She loves me.”

  “It was her final show?” Sophie sounded as if she could not believe her own ears.

  Jack said, “I think she meant it. That she still loves me in spite of everything.”

  “Her final show?”

  Baxter said, “Sophie, you’re repeating yourself. Change is part of life. If we’re not changing, that means we’re dead and somebody ought to bury us.”

  Sophie frowned.

  Jack said, “She told me the other day that her work was changing and that it was not my fault. Although my actions did have an impact, she is okay with moving on.”

  “How about you?” Baxter said. “What are you going to do?”

  His smile returned, an involuntary action caused by a sense of unfathomable serenity. “Remember those weeks of vacation I didn’t take?”

  Baxter laughed. “It’s about time.”

  Chapter 58

  San Diego

  Daisy crossed one leg over the other and swung it briskly. “Do you think he’s heard it yet?”

  Jill eyed her mother across Viv’s kitchen table. “Mom, you’re perfectly capable of figuring out the time zone difference. If it’s ten o’clock Pacific time, it’s noon in Chicago.”

  “Jillian, I know the program aired already. That is not my question.”

  Jill bit her lip and looked through the patio door. Her father paced the sunny backyard, back and forth, back and forth, his ball cap pulled down low over his eyes.

  Viv carried three glasses of iced tea over from the counter. “From everything I’ve heard about Sophie through the years, my bet is yes, Jack has heard Jill’s formal apology and expression of love.”

  Daisy said, “So why hasn’t he called?”

  “Because it’s two minutes past the hour.”

  Jill said, “I don’t expect him to call.”

  Daisy shook her head. “And you were always the optimistic one.”

  Jill made an effort not to roll her eyes.

  When Viv had told Skip and Daisy that Jack and Jill were officially split up, they drove over from Sweetwater to be there when she arrived. At first, Jill appreciated their loving gesture, but soon she realized that besides offering comfort, they were in need of it themselves. She felt depleted.

  Daisy reached over and patted her arm. “You were always the chipper one too.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. I need some time to rest.”

  “By working with Vivian? I don’t call that rest. You should come home with us. Pops and I can wait on you, hand and foot.”

  “I need to walk.” Or pace. Jill went out the sliding door and shut it. She spotted the stack of printed pages on the patio table. The top papers fluttered in the light breeze.

  It was the transcript of her final show. She had given it to Viv, who read it and passed it on to their parents before she could stop her.

  “Pops.”

  Skip stopped his pacing, placed his hands on his hips, and waited for her to walk over to him. “You gave in, Jaws. You let him take your voice away.”

  “I did not.”

  “You quit the vocation that you were gifted to do.”

  “I quit that particular show, that format, that eight-year focus on marital communication.”

  “You were forced to, considering that your marriage went south.”

  “I wasn’t forced, Pops. Not really. It wasn’t so much my marriage as the work that went south. It had taken on this nuance of rule keeping and manipulation and guarantees. Like, if you tell your husband twice a day that he is the most wonderful and smartest man who has ever walked the face of the earth, he will be fulfilled and contented and probably happy. Or if you greet him at the door wearing lipstick and little else, he will fall at your feet and give you whatever you want.”

  Skip’s chin dipped and he squinted. “That last one has some merit.”

  “It’s borderline prostitution.”

  “What is wrong with you? No, don’t tell me. You and Jack have problems with—with . . . you know. I hear there’s medication and stuff.”

  She held back a smile. He was endearing when he got flustered. She kept going. “The last time I tried that little lipstick-only enticement on Jack, he said he had a headache and he really was not interested in planning a trip to Italy to see Connor.”

  “This is too much information.”

  She grinned. “Pops, you need to calm down.”

  “Oh, ha-ha. I think you’re the one who needs to calm
down. Jaws, you just talk too much sometimes.”

  “Listen to one more. Seriously. This is my favorite. If you go to church every week, tithe, pray together, and argue according to certain guidelines, then nothing can touch your marriage. You are set for life. Happily ever after.”

  He pursed his lips and blinked.

  Oh no. He was going to cry.

  “Jillie, that describes you and Jack. That was your way of life.”

  “Yes, and I encouraged every married couple to live likewise. Obviously, they are good things. They enriched our relationship. But they are not the guarantee I sealed them with. We are flawed human beings, Pops. I never wanted to admit that before. I wouldn’t let Jack admit it either.”

  He nodded. “All right. I get it.”

  “So.” She tilted her head. “You want to know a secret?”

  “No thanks. I’ve had my fill for the day.”

  She smiled at his quick answer, but he was her dad, the only person who had ever handled her difficult side with compassion. “I was getting bored with the show.”

  “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. It was something else I refused to recognize. I was too scared. What would I do instead of the show? Who would I be instead?” She shrugged. “Now I’m back where I started, working with Viv, one of the Wagner sisters carting senior citizens around Southern California.”

  “Jack will get his head screwed on right again. You two are going to be fine.”

  “Let’s not count on it, Pops. I did the program to publicly apologize for the way I publicly dishonored him. I think he’ll appreciate it, but it’s not going to catapult us into a new marriage. We’ve been going separate directions for too long.”

  “Don’t you want to go the same direction?”

  She spread her arms. “Pops, what else can I do? He left me.”

  “I said, don’t you want to go the same direction?”

  She frowned. “Of course I do. But he doesn’t want to!”

  “Then we keep on praying that he changes his mind.” Skip wrapped her in a hug in time to catch her first sob.