Chapter 9
Saturday dawned clear and bright. The weather had finally taken a turn for the better and the spring-like temperatures they’d all been wishing for were finally upon them. Ian was so happy that he felt like singing along with the birds in the rhododendrons outside his door.
If he hadn’t had a session scheduled with Emily and Benjamin for the afternoon, he’d have dusted the cobwebs off his bicycle and ridden out into the country. He loved the smells of springtime – the loamy earth unthawing and turning to mud, plants shooting up from the soil, the earth waking up.
But duty called.
He was pleasantly surprised when Emily Downey walked in the door with Benjamin in tow.
“Ian - I mean Pastor Ian - this is Benjamin.” Her voice was shy and hesitant.
Benjamin reached out and clasped his hand confidently. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Emily’s whole family raves about you.”
Ian noticed that Emily was blushing, but she didn’t say anything.
“Sorry again that I missed our first session.”
“No need,” Ian said. “It worked out rather nicely now that you mention it. Emily and I had a chance to get acquainted.”
“So she tells me.” He smiled broadly and Ian sensed only sincerity from him.
“I’ve never been to Loch Awe or St. Conan’s, and I must say, I’m impressed. It’s a lovely trip up from Glasgow.”
“It’s a beautiful kirk. I feel privileged to have been given this call.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it,” Benjamin said, looking genuinely fascinated with what Ian was saying. “I feel the same way about medicine. It’s my job, the profession I’ve chosen, and yet it’s so much more than that.”
“Serving people always is,” Ian said.
“As is healing,” Benjamin said. “God’s work, our hands.”
“Exactly.”
They spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes getting to know each other, comparing notes, sharing the joys and privileges of their callings as well as the occasional frustrations, even an amusing anecdote or two. Emily listened intently, looking from one to the other, following the conversation with her intelligent brown eyes, mirroring all the appropriate emotions and responses.
Perhaps it was because Benjamin’s personality was such a welcome departure from Greg’s insolence, maybe it was simply that they had so much in common, but before Ian realized it, an hour had flown by and Emily hadn’t said more than a word or two.
He felt terrible when he realized what he’d done – and not done. He tried to correct his faux pas. “Emily, how do you feel about being a doctor’s wife?”
She cleared her throat and smiled at Benjamin. “Well, as you know, I’ve already gotten a pretty good taste of what it’s like to have to contend with long hours, no days off, and emergency calls. But I’ve been on my own for over a decade, so I’m used to it and more. I know how to take care of myself. And I’m very proud of Benjamin’s...” She hesitated. “Calling.”
Fair enough, except that her response sounded like a prepared statement for a press release. But then, that was what he’d urged her to do. At least, that had been part of her assignment.
Benjamin squeezed her hand and smiled at her. “Emily has a great gift for what she does, too. I’ve gone to her for guidance on how to handle a cantankerous patient or co-worker more times than I can count. She gives very sound advice.”
“So tell me some of the things that the two of you enjoy doing together,” Ian said, feeling more relaxed and at ease than he had in weeks.
“We enjoy playing Scrabble,” Benjamin said.
“Yes,” Emily said. “Except for the fact that Benjamin has a tendency to gloat when he wins.”
“Emily is also an excellent golfer.”
“And when I win at golf, I’m afraid I do a somewhat irritating victory dance on the 18th green.”
“Have you ever played Carnoustie?” Ian asked him, her – both of them.
“I have,” Benjamin answered. “Don’t you love the way the burn seems to reach up and grab your ball just when you think you’ve hit a good shot?”
“And the way the greens slope down to the ocean, and the breezes off the water.”
“I’ve not played there, yet,” Emily said quietly. “I’d love to, one day.”
Benjamin’s face lit up. “I took off my shoes and socks and rolled up my pants and waded into the water to try to hit my ball on the 18th hole a la Van de Beld.”
They spent the next ten minutes discussing the courses they’d played, and the fact that Ian had worked as a golf pro between graduating from college and beginning his training at St. Andrew’s Theological Seminary.
Again, Emily sat quietly by while the two of them went on about this course and that.
“Um, looking at the results of your inventory,” Ian said, realizing once more that they had gotten off track. “It appears that you’re very well-matched. Your results indicate that you’re a Vitalized Couple, which means that your relationship is harmonious in all areas, with a strong likelihood of success.”
“That’s wonderful,” Benjamin said. “Isn’t it, dear?”
“Yes. Yes. Of course it is.”
Ian smiled. “In the different categories of the questionnaire – Communication, Conflict Resolution, Financial Management, Leisure Activities, Friends and Family Acceptance, Marital Expectations, Parental Roles, Sexual Compatibility, Personality Types – which do each of you see as your strongest asset, and conversely, your weakest, or the area in which you will likely need to experience growth?”
Ian knew he was being childish, but he prayed that neither of them said Sexual Compatibility. First, there was the matter of Emily’s erratic behavior towards him, and now that he’d established a friendly rapport with her fiancé, he suspected it would be awkward having a clinical discussion about something so personal as sex. Except of course, that Benjamin was a doctor, probably even trained in these matters.
Emily spoke first. “I think our strongest would be Friends and Family Acceptance. Everyone loves Benjamin.” For a second, her eyes bored daggers though Ian’s. Except me. “And for our weakest, I’d have to say Conflict Resolution.”
“May I ask why?” Ian asked.
“It’s hard to get mad at someone who’s perfect. And so well liked.”
“Okay,” Ian said. A surprising answer for an expert at public relations. “What about you, Benjamin? Would you agree?”
Benjamin looked a little mystified, but he answered, “From my perspective, I feel that Communication would be our strong suit, and our improvement-needed category would have to be Leisure Activities – basically, because we have so little time for anything besides work.”
“Emily, do you think Benjamin is a good communicator?”
“The best,” she said dully. “I can’t fault him for anything.”
“Benjamin, do you think Emily is good at conflict resolution?”
“I think she’s excellent at it when she’s on the outside looking in. When she’s the one embroiled in the conflict, I get a sense that it’s harder for her.”
“In what way?” This from Emily.
“Well, all I meant is that it’s a little difficult to engage you at times.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve discussed the fact that you can come across as being a little aloof.”
“That’s right. We have. Because you’re such an excellent communicator.”
“I know it’s not intentional, dear.”
“Oh do you?” Emily whipped around to glare at Ian before turning back to Benjamin.
“Of course, I do.”
“Well, well, maybe you should think again then, sweetheart. Because... well, I am holding back, and I’m doing it on purpose.”
Benjamin looked as though he was absolutely shocked. “But, Emily-”
“It’s true, Benjamin. You’re too perfect. And I just can’t stay in this plastic relationship any longer!”<
br />
“What are you saying?” Benjamin seemed not to be too worried. He did look concerned for Emily, although his basic confidence seemed unruffled.
“That I can’t marry you. You’re perfect on paper, but-”
“But what? We’ve discussed all of this. Passion, acting silly, puppy love aren’t part of my personality. Yours either. But that’s okay. Passion fades over time anyway. What we have is much wiser, richer, more meaningful than-”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “I love everything about you, but I don’t... I don’t want to...”
What happened next certainly had to be classified as a miracle, certainly no less beautiful, no less significant than Jesus turning water into wine or making the blind to see.
Benjamin lost it. “So this is the way you tell me you’re breaking up with me?” He sounded angry. He was angry.
“What would you prefer? That I do it over perfectly prepared hors d’euvres and a forty pound bottle of wine at a five star restaurant?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
Emily looked half terrified, half jubilant. “Neither do I. I don’t know what I want.”
“Yes you do,” Benjamin snapped. “You want it all. You’re a high achiever, alpha, perfectionist just like I am, and unless you have it all, you’re never going to be happy.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Now she looked angry. “You always are. You’re so sickeningly right that it’s nauseating.”
“Then why is my stomach tied in knots? And why does my head feel like it’s going to explode? And why is my heart pounding like I’ve just run a marathon?”
Ian had this one. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to lose her.”
“I hate that she makes me feel this way. Out of control. Discombobulated. Crazed.”
Ian smiled. “Like a man in love. Passionately and completely in love.”
Benjamin hadn’t moved, but he was sweating, and his hair was ruffled, and his eyes were wild. “I love you so very much, Emily. I’d be lost without you. Please say you’ll marry me.”
“Do you mean it?” Emily’s eyes were tremulous with wonder, her eyelashes laden with big, heavy tears.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
“Benjamin has told you what he’s feeling, Emily. Tell him what you feel. Not what you think, what you feel right at this moment.”
“I feel it.” She started to tremble. “I’m not sure what, but I think I feel passion.” She said the word shakily, like she’d tasted some sort of extremely exotic food for the very first time. “At least that’s what I think it is. I’ve never... I mean, this is a new experience for me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, it was as though the pages of a romance novel had come to life. Benjamin reached for her, and Emily crushed herself against his chest, and they were kissing and crying and clutching and... That’s when Ian left the room, and closed the door behind him.
Thistle Down Page 9
