The Snow Angel

by Glenn Beck

  He was there, maybe. The young man I had fallen in love with. The boy who was the perfect mix of child and man, who made me laugh. Who made me feel as if every atom in my body had been plugged in to an electrical current whenever he was around. I still tingled in his presence, but looking at him in the thin, early morning shadows that fell across our kitchen, I realized that it was a different kind of power that made me tremble now.

  “You’re home,” I blurted out, fearful that he would turn and find me standing there. Staring.

  Cyrus swung his head around to regard me, then closed his eyes and went back to massaging his neck. “I’m exhausted,” he said. “And my neck is killing me. Come here.” He motioned me to follow him as he took a seat at the small breakfast table in a windowed nook just off the kitchen.

  I stopped a few feet away from him, wondering what exactly he wanted from me. But I didn’t have to wonder long. Cyrus leaned half out of his chair to grab me by the wrist and yank me a couple of stumbling paces so that I was standing beside him. Then he took my hand and put it on his neck.

  “That’s the spot. Not too hard.”

  “You want a neck rub?” I asked.

  “No, I want an omelette.” His tone was thick with sarcasm that I chose to ignore. Early on in our marriage Cyrus loved nothing more than to remind me of where I came from: a blue-collar family where my father didn’t make enough money for my mother to stay home. He knew that Bev had worked long hours at the truck stop, and it was a source of constant derision. No Price woman would ever be allowed to subject herself to such humiliation, but Cyrus sometimes reminded me that even though I didn’t bring home minimum wage, my life was that of a short-order cook: He ordered, I jumped.

  I tried not to sigh as I tightened the belt of my robe and placed my hands on either side of my husband’s muscular neck. Cyrus was obviously tapped out from his cross-country adventure, and I was fairly certain that he would use the rest of the day to catch up on sleep before heading in to work tomorrow. It was a depressing thought. If he was home all day, I had to be, too. That meant no Max, no Sarah, and no time alone with Lily. How could I get a message to Max without Cyrus finding out about it? I didn’t want to leave him hanging.

  “Anything happen while I was gone?” Cyrus’s question startled me.

  “Uh, no,” I stammered. “Nothing interesting anyway.” Nothing that I can tell you about.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me about my trip?”

  My fingers paused in their ministrations, but I recovered quickly and hoped Cyrus didn’t notice. “Of course. How was your trip?”

  “Long. That’s why we drove through the night last night. Jason wanted to get home.”

  I didn’t ask Cyrus if he wanted to get home, too. I knew the answer to that question. The conversation stalled for a minute as I tried to think of something else to say. We had become so bad at communicating that I didn’t even know where to begin. What was I supposed to say to the man who had fallen out of love with me? Had he ever been in love with me?

  Before I could formulate an acceptable query, I heard the thump of Lily’s footsteps on the stairs. It was too early for her to be up, but by the drum of her quick pace I could tell that she had woken up with an idea, something that made her pulse pound high and hot. I spun toward the arch that framed our open staircase, praying that Lily would realize that her father was home before she said something that she shouldn’t.

  I wasn’t quite so lucky. “Mom!” Lily called, halfway down the steps. “I know what I want to do! I know how I want to use Ma—” She stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs. “Dad. You’re home.”

  “Just got back,” Cyrus said. I could feel his shoulders tighten beneath my hands. “What were you saying, Lil? Just now? ‘I know how I want to use mmm …?’” He drew out the M, leading Lily with a tilt of his head. He nodded for her to finish.

  Lily’s eyes shot to mine, and I was devastated to see real fear in them. I knew what she was going to say, or at least, I could guess. She had been on the verge of telling me that she knew what she wanted to do with Max’s material. I had encouraged her to pick out a pattern quickly so that we could get started. But she was torn between three styles and couldn’t make up her mind. Of course, she couldn’t say any of that in front of Cyrus, and I witnessed all of her excitement fizzle away as she realized the implications of her father’s presence in our kitchen. She wasn’t a very good actress, especially under duress, and for a few seconds I was convinced that she would cave right then and there and tell Cyrus everything.

  “Rachel, seriously?” Cyrus jerked away from me and rubbed his neck with the heel of his hand. I realized that I had been pinching him, and my face flushed. Lily and I were as guilty a pair as ever there was, and if Cyrus didn’t know something was up, he had to be both stupid and blind.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, mentally preparing myself for the fallout.

  But as I watched, Lily gained control of herself and managed to give Cyrus a winning, if lopsided, smile. She looked adorable in her pajama pants and T-shirt, hair mussed from sleep and cheek wrinkled by the crease in her pillow. Though I was scared half to death, it was nearly impossible not to grin at her.

  “Welcome back, Dad,” she said, crossing the kitchen in her bare feet. For a moment it looked as if she was going to give Cyrus a hug, but that would have been so uncharacteristic as to be downright ridiculous. She stopped herself. “I was going to say, I know how I want to use my money.”

  “Money?” Cyrus asked suspiciously.

  “Mom gave me ten dollars to help her clean out the flower gardens and I know how I want to use it.”

  It was true, I had given her ten dollars to help me winterize the gardens. But I was so blown away by her quick cover that my mouth dropped open all the same.

  “I want to take you and Sarah Kempers out for ice cream,” Lily continued. “This afternoon.”

  “What makes you think your mother and Sarah deserve ice cream?” Cyrus’s words were light, joking even, but as he stood he shot me a calculating look. He definitely knew something was going on.

  “Sarah kept us company a bit while you were gone,” Lily said. It was a risky move, an admission that came dangerously close to the truth. But after her near slip on the stairs, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in her bearing.

  “Lily’s right,” I chimed in. “We’ve been spending some time with Sarah. She’s been great.”

  “The pastor’s wife,” Cyrus said, more to himself than to us. I could tell that he was looking for an angle to exploit, something that would give him permission to forbid us to see her. But apparently he couldn’t find any fault with our growing friendship, so he shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, yawning so wide his jaw cracked. “Just be sure to get the fat-free stuff. No wife of mine is going to be a blimp.”

  I was still trying to figure out how we had gotten off so easy when Cyrus moved past me. He turned around at the last second and pulled me roughly to him, giving me a kiss that was anything but tender. It took my breath away, but not for good reasons. And when he finally broke away, Cyrus’s eyes bored into mine, searching for answers that I prayed he wouldn’t find. “I don’t like secrets,” he said, each word no louder than an exhalation. Then louder, so that Lily could hear, he said, “I sure am glad to be home. A man’s home is his castle.”

  Since I knew I wasn’t Cyrus’s queen, I guess that made me his prisoner.

  I called Sarah almost immediately after Cyrus went to bed for the day. Because I couldn’t be sure if he was listening on the other line, I tried to keep the conversation perfectly innocuous, but I could tell by her tone that Sarah realized the gravity of the situation.

  “I’m so glad Cyrus made it home safe,” she said. What she meant was, What are we going to do?

  “Me, too. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our meeting this morning. I should be home if Cyrus needs me.”

  “Of course. I’ll let everyone know.” I’ll tell Max you’re not comin
g.

  “Oh, and Lily wanted me to ask you if she can take us out for ice cream after school. You know, as a thank you.”

  “Sure. I’ll ask David if he can keep an eye on the twins. Shall I expect you at three?” I’ll be counting the minutes …

  The day seemed to drag on forever, and when I pulled up at her house a little before three, it struck me that Sarah thought so, too. She was waiting for me on the sidewalk, pacing up and down as if she couldn’t keep still. The moment I stopped, she slid into the passenger seat of my car and leaned across the console to give me a squeeze. “Hey,” she said. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.” I smiled thinly. “But I don’t know how I can keep going to Max’s. Cyrus definitely suspects that there’s something going on.”

  “Did he…?” Sarah’s eyes searched mine, but she couldn’t bring herself to finish.

  “Did he hit me?” I said. “No.” I glanced over my shoulder and pulled away from the curb, angling the car toward Lily’s school. “It’s fine, Sarah. Really. Everything is just fine.”

  “No, it’s not!” Her vehemence surprised me. “Come on, Rachel, you know everything is not just fine. Look at you: You’re scared. And you can’t see Max … Don’t you get it? This isn’t okay.”

  “Of course I ‘get it,’” I said coolly. “It’s my life, remember? I’m living it.”

  “Sorry.” Sarah sighed. “I’m not very good at this. It just drives me crazy that he has such power over you. And honestly, I don’t understand why you let him have it.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. I expect you to be my friend.”

  “I am your friend.”

  “You’re also a pastor’s wife,” I reminded her. “And marriage is supposed to be sacred. How can you counsel me to go against my husband’s wishes?”

  Sarah put her hand on my arm, but I kept my eyes on the road. “Rachel, listen. Marriage is sacred. And the Bible says that God hates divorce. He hates it because he wants better for you. He never intended for you to have a broken marriage or a broken home. He loves you.”

  I made a little sound in the back of my throat because even though I did not doubt Sarah’s sincerity, I doubted her message.

  “Oh, don’t do that,” she said softly. “I don’t care what Cyrus has made you believe. You are beloved.”

  It was very hard not to roll my eyes. What did I know about love?

  But Sarah didn’t push me. Instead, she changed tack. “You’re not safe, Rachel, and neither is Lily. Cyrus needs help, but I don’t think he’s going to come to that realization on his own.”

  I almost laughed at the thought of Cyrus admitting that he needed help. I believed that God still performed miracles, but in all my years of marriage, I had been given no indication that there was one forthcoming. And yet, was it wrong to hope?

  “You sound like my dad,” I said dryly.

  “Your dad?”

  I hadn’t even realized I had spoken aloud. I waved my hand as if to rid the air of my words. “He used to say that all the time. That Cyrus needed help.”

  “Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

  My cheeks flushed with shame and I rushed to change the topic. “Maybe Cyrus will change,” I said hesitantly.

  “Maybe you have to give him the opportunity to.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, considering all the things I could say to her. But we didn’t have time for a philosophical conversation—I was already pulling up to Lily’s school. I put the car in park and gave Sarah my full attention. “I know you’re my friend. But I need you to understand that I don’t take this lightly. I feel very, very trapped, and I don’t know how to get myself out of this mess. It’s too big. Too complicated.”

  “But don’t you think if we just—”

  “Hi, Mom,” Lily chirped, swinging open the back door and flinging herself into the seat. “Hi, Sarah.”

  We both pasted on smiles and abandoned our heated discussion. “Hi, honey,” I said. “Where to? This is your show.”

  “Ice cream,” she said firmly. “I want to go to the Dairy Stop before it closes for the winter. And I want to eat it at Oak Grove.”

  “The lady knows what she wants.” Sarah winked at me. “Who are we to argue?”

  We all got soft-serve, twist cones from the Dairy Stop, and then I made the five-minute drive to the park. Oak Grove was a little nature reserve with hiking trails and secluded corners for romantic picnics that squatted in the low hills just a few miles outside the Everton city limits. It was the perfect place to be alone, and I could guess why Lily chose it: She wanted to be able to talk freely.

  I drove down the winding, tree-lined road and parked on a gravel turn-off near my favorite trail. It was an unusually warm late October day, and though the trees were stripped and bare, their leaves littered the ground ankle-deep. We crunched down the path, kicking up leaves and losing our way. But I knew where we were going, and eventually we came around a bend and were afforded a view of our destination: a giant slab of basalt rock that sunned itself on the side of a hill.

  The rock was as large as a house and rose in jutted columns that were perfect for climbing. I had taken Lily here many times before, and she ran the rest of the distance, then scrambled up and away toward her favorite spot, half-eaten ice cream cone still clutched in one hand. Sarah followed with a laugh, and soon all three of us were stretched out on a smooth, flat section, enjoying the way the black stone was warm beneath us.

  “Thanks for the ice cream cone,” Sarah said, nudging Lily with her shoulder. “It’s just what I needed today.”

  “The Dairy Stop closes on Friday,” Lily told her seriously. “We have to go five whole months without soft-serve ice cream.”

  “And Dairy Dogs,” I sighed.

  “And chili cheese fries.”

  “It’s a tragedy,” Lily confirmed. And in spite of the tight knot of fear that existed where my heart should be, I loved the fact that my daughter thought the temporary closure of a mom and pop roadside stand was a tragedy.

  We were quiet for a few minutes, licking our cones and watching the way feathery strands of high, white clouds trailed across the stark blue sky. I wished that we could just remain in this place of silence, of peace, but when Lily swallowed her last bite of cone, she turned to me with a decidedly businesslike air.

  “So,” she said. “What are we going to do now?”

  “You mean now that Dad’s home?”

  She shook her head. “Now that he suspects something. I saw that look in his eye. He’s going to be watching us like a hawk.”

  “Max is just going to have to finish without us.” I tried to sound indifferent, but I couldn’t keep the regret out of my voice.

  “He can’t,” Sarah piped up. “I stopped by there this morning after you called and he looked positively heart-sick. We still have five full suits to go and the order needs to be shipped by December 1. Max can’t do it alone.”

  “He’s got you,” I reminded her. “You can help.”

  “I’m hopeless,” she argued. “I can run a steamer, that’s about it.”

  “So he’ll be a little late.”

  “Mom.” Lily gave me a dismayed look. “It’s Mr. Wever’s last order. He’s counting on that money for retirement. You know that. He can’t work anymore with Mrs. Wever gone.”

  “What would you have me do?” I cried. “If Dad finds out he’ll go ballistic. And you’re right, he knows we’re up to something. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Maybe you can take a little break. Stay away from Eden for a week or two, then when Cyrus lets his guard down you can go back and help Max finish,” Sarah said.

  I bit my lip, considering. “That might work.”

  “It’s our only choice.” Lily nodded as if that settled it. Then she twisted her mouth into an anxious little bow. “It is our choice, right? I can still come, can’t I?”

  I hated to do it, but I had to. I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t drag you
into this. If your dad finds out what I’ve been doing, that’s fine. I can deal with it. But if you’re tangled up in it …” I could hardly bring myself to consider the possibilities.

  “That’s not fair!” Lily’s attempt at fury was thwarted by the tears that instantly sprang to her eyes. “You can’t stop me from seeing Mr. Wever!”

  “It’s not what I want either,” I said, reaching for her. But she yanked away from me.

  “Then do something about it! I don’t get it. Why don’t we just leave?”

  It was a question I had asked myself a hundred times since the day I said, “I do.” Am I done yet? Is it time? But is the time ever right to leave your spouse? The man who swore to love and protect you, even if he broke those same vows in a thousand different ways?

  Although it seemed unbelievable, even to me, I could come up with a list a mile long of all the many reasons to stay. My daughter deserved a daddy, even if he wasn’t going to win any dad of the year awards. Besides, I had nowhere to go, nothing to do. My whole world was the tiny town of Everton. And if I left, everyone would know that my entire life had been a sham. Really, life with Cyrus wasn’t that bad. It’s not as if he regularly beat me or anything like that. He called me names. Every once in a while he was more forceful than necessary. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.

  As I mentally went over my laundry list of reasons, I came to the bottom of my logic, to a place that I hadn’t visited in many, many years. Somewhere, buried in a forgotten corner of my heart, I came to the unexpected realization that some small part of me still loved my husband. Feared him, yes, but whether the memory was fresh or not, there was a time that he looked upon me with a gaze so filled with passion it took my breath away. And there was something inside me that still longed for that: for someone to love me the way that Cyrus did back when he first fell in love with me. I hadn’t imagined it, had I? We had been in love once.