Chapter 6
James changed out the sign on the lawn of the street side of the church every week. He finished rearranging the letters and stepped back to make sure he didn’t need a spell-checker.
God Wants Full Custody, not just Weekend Visits
Hmm. Uncle John liked this sign but for some reason it made James think of April Murphy, the newly widowed young woman at church. Now that she had 24/7 custody of her three-year-old daughter Daphne. Not because of divorce, of course, but because of the tragic death of her Marine husband serving his country.
He couldn’t even imagine losing a spouse in such a tragic, violent death. The shock of the suddenness must be devastating. A member of the military at your front door. He pictured April receiving the news, falling to her knees, falling apart. Or would she have stood stoically until they left, and then collapsed?
Widowhood at such a young age, and with a young child who would never remember her father.
A shiver came over him and he pulled his black scarf tighter around his neck from the brisk spring wind. Sudden thoughts of losing Jessica to such an end filled his mind. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if anything happened to her.
But maybe he’d have to stand it. He and Jessica were only speaking every couple of days now. And even then, their phone calls had become significantly briefer and more awkward. It never occurred to him that asking her to marry him would produce such a negative effect afterward. He’d never expected her to say no. He’d pictured himself going home the happiest man in the world. The entire situation made him unbearably sad and helpless to know what to do about it.
Last week he and the young men from church had helped Mrs. Murphy unload the moving van into her newly rented apartment. Stacks of boxes filled each room, black marker clearly appropriating them for the Kitchen, Living Room, Master Suite, Daphne’s Room.
April Murphy had then invited him to dinner the next night. She’d served homemade lasagna, a healthy green salad with pecans and bleu cheese—his favorite—and the best cheesy French bread he’d ever eaten in his life. Followed by warm apple pie and ice cream.
“Maybe you should open a bakery,” he’d quipped, the tender apples melting in his mouth.
At first, he’d been startled by the dinner invitation, but April had insisted she wanted to say thank you for all the help he and John had given her and Daphne. Although she hadn’t invited his uncle or the pastor’s wife. Or the teens who had unloaded the moving van in short order.
“A plate of cookies is more than enough thanks,” he’d told her with a laugh.
“I love to cook and I’ll bet you don’t get many home-cooked meals,” April had said, figuratively twisting his arm. Calling attention to his bachelor-hood status in a not so subtle way.
Her manner in person was unassuming, quiet. Almost peaceful. So different from Jessica Mason who kept him on his toes and from whom he never knew what to expect.
“Do you think you’ll be happy here in Snow Valley?” he’d asked after helping her do the dishes. “It’s a lot smaller than Billings.”
“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” April had asked, not really answering his question.
“Have to admit it did take me a few months to adjust to small town living.”
“Small town gossip?” April said with a knowing smile.
He just laughed. “There is that, but mostly kind and caring people. Plus the job potential was good. I’d rather be pastor in a smaller town as opposed to the big city congregations where everyone is a face but no names. I’ve got a degree in counseling as well as ministry.”
“I’d just finished a business degree—going to school at nights—when Roy was—well, you know,” she finished quietly.
“My deepest condolences, Mrs. Murphy,” James said. “I’m sure you’ve had an enormous adjustment to go while you’re grieving.”
“Oh, please call me April!” she chided. “You make me feel like I’m forty. Where’d you go to school?”
“Got a B.A. at Montana State University—“”
“That’s where my brother attended. He played football. Lane West. Lineman.”
“Small world. I probably watched him play. I went to all the games.”
“I can’t imagine a pastor having keg parties,” April said with a grin.
James laughed. “I hung out with the kids who went to church. And then I attended Montana Bible College in Bozeman, studying for a Pastoral degree as well as courses in Biblical Counseling, and Outdoor Discipleship. I like doing things with the youth.”
“I can see that in you,” April said, watching him.
There was a pause and then James added, “If you ever want to talk about your husband and what happened please don’t hesitate to call upon me or John.”
She nodded, picking at a thread in the quilt flung across the back of the couch. “I appreciate that. Some days I’m driven and know exactly what I want to do and other days I’m completely lost and scared.”
James nodded, feeling a surge of sympathy for the young woman. “Moving is a big change, too, all in the same few months. I’m sure your parents are concerned about you and Daphne.”
“I suppose so.” She gave a brief, caustic laugh. “They’re actually getting divorced. After thirty years! I almost took that harder than Roy’s death. That’s why I came to Snow Valley. I couldn’t handle their problems on top of my own. Plus I hated Daphne listening to them fight over how to split their finances and household belongings. Everything from my childhood. Like it had no value or sentiment at all.”
James let out his breath in a low whistle. “Wow, I’m so sorry. That’s rough.”
“And now you’re going to think I’m the most pathetic person on the planet. Please don’t feel sorry for me, Pastor James. I’ll get through it one day at a time.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Except at midnight,” she said softly. Her eyes rose and latched onto James’ face. “That’s when Roy used to call when he was overseas. The time difference worked then. It was his lunch hour, except when he had duty.”
“You seem like a strong person,” James told her, hoping his words gave her some measure of comfort. The ability to keep going. “And we’re even stronger with God’s help.”
She gave a small laugh and tucked her bare feet under the cushion on the homely couch. “Spoken like a true pastor.”
“Ah, sorry. It’s in my nature.”
“No apologies, Pastor James. I could use more religion in my life right now. Sometimes I feel as though all I have is hope to cling to.”
“Hope is a very good place to start. And you can call me James,” he added. “I’m only a few years older than you so the title during a social call does feel a bit strange.”
“You were always the good guy, huh?”
“We all have our moments,” he said wryly. “Even future pastors. What sort of job are you looking for? I don’t know of any ranches for sale that might be in your price range,” he said jokingly. “But I’d only recommend that if you adore horses and manure.”
April laughed. “Me and horses don’t have a relationship, unfortunately. At least not yet. I wanted a horse when I was ten but my parents said a big fat no way. I wailed and carried on for a few months and eventually gave up when they didn’t budge. As far as jobs, I was thinking perhaps a life insurance business. Using my business degree. I don’t think it takes too long to get certified in insurance. And it’s flexible hours. I could even work from home.”
James leaned forward, arms on his knees. “Snow Valley could probably use an insurance broker, actually.”
“Life insurance, house insurance, that sort of thing. There are fees and exams, but I’m a quick study.”
Before April could continue, a small cry came from the rear bedroom. April sat up and leaned backward to look down the dim hallway where a nightlight shone. A moment later, Daphne toddled out in a frilly nightgown imprinted with Disney Princess Ariel on the front, her red hair spread out
around her as though she were underwater.
“Mommy, where are you?”
“Talking to Pastor James from church. Remember him? We met him last Sunday. He helped us bring all our furniture and boxes into our new house. He even set up your bed for you.”
“This isn’t a house, Mama,” Daphne said matter-of-factly, climbing up the edge of the couch to curl into her mother’s lap.
“Well, no, it’s called an apartment. But it’s our home now.”
Daphne tucked her head into the crook of her mother’s arm and stuck her finger into her mouth. “I want to go back to Gramma and Granpa’s house.”
Gently, April pulled her daughter’s finger from her mouth and kissed it. “Sometimes I wish that, too, sweetie, but we’re in a new town. And we’re going to make new friends. In a few days you’re going to go to a fun school while Mommy looks for a job.”
“Don’t wanna go to school.”
“You’ll make lots of friends. Play games. Do painting and play-dough. You’ll love it, sweetheart.”
“Not gonna love it,” Daphne insisted, sticking her finger back into her mouth.
April lifted her daughter up into her arms. “Right now you’re going back to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
James rose from the couch, too. “I’m headed home.”
“You don’t have to go,” April said quickly.
“It’s later than I realized and there’s youth group I have to prep for tomorrow. Plus the Easter Pageant practice after school. I’m rounding up sets to paint. Lots of cardboard.” He made a face, pretending agony.
April laughed in sympathy. “Sounds like fun teenager torture.”
“And they’ll want to be fed.”
“Kids are always hungry.”
“I’m getting baptized in teenagers this past year. Metaphorically speaking of course. Some days it feels like I’m drowning.”
“I’ll bet you’re great with them.”
Daphne whined and April shushed her.
“Lie down with her and tell her a story,” James suggested. “She needs her mom right now.”
“Unfortunately, I wish I could clone myself.”
He nodded and stroked the back of Daphne’s head. “Goodnight, Daphne.”
The little girl just stared at him without speaking. She looked exhausted.
“Can you say goodnight, sweetheart?”
Daphne vigorously shook her head.
“I’ll see myself out, April.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him, indicating her offspring. “I was enjoying the adult conversation. Someone to talk out my plans with.”
“Let me know if you need to do it again. And thank you for the wonderful dinner.”
“Anytime, James,” April said. “Goodnight.”
James had gotten into his car that night, an unsettled sensation in his gut. April Murphy was a nice woman and a good mother. He admired her for setting out on her own with goals to make a new life. To provide for her daughter, alone, without her parent’s help.
He’d have to be careful not to go to her house alone very often. It might get the neighbors gossiping. He tried not to read too much into the dinner and evening. April was alone and hadn’t had a chance to make friends here in Snow Valley yet. But she would.
Later, he’d called Jessica. Once again she seemed distracted. And tired.
“Swan Lake is taking a toll on you,” he said. “You sound a bit breathless too.”
“Oh, a group of us went out after work tonight. No big deal. Just tired. Getting ready for bed right now. First dress rehearsal is coming up.”
“Are you worried about the choreography? You looked perfect when I was there two weeks ago.”
“You always think I perform the steps perfectly.”
“No, I think you’re perfect,” James said in a low meaningful voice. “In every possible way.”
Jessica laughed and James felt as though she was brushing him off. “It’s a good thing you’re not a newspaper critic. Maddox has been coming down hard on Eric lately. If Eric gets cut or fired, we all have something to be worried about.”
“That’s too bad. I hope it works out for him.” Eric was the last subject James wanted to talk about, but somehow Jessica had managed to smoothly change the subject.
There was a pause and then Jessica said, “There was an interesting conversation tonight among the dancers. Especially Sierra Armstrong.”
“I wish you’d stop comparing yourself to her. You both have your own strengths. Sierra might be precision-perfect, but you dance with heart, Jessica.”
“The convo wasn’t about dancing—at least not in particular. It was about families and marriage and having children.”
“I see.” James throat clenched. His palms began to sweat and he switched the phone to his other ear. Was this it? Was Jessica officially breaking up with him?
“She vowed not to ever get married or have children. She said that when art called to you a person should respond and give their life to it.”
“What’s your opinion?” As much as James didn’t want to ask the question he had to know where he stood. He had to know if there was still any hope for a future with this crazy girl he loved.
“Well, Monica didn’t exactly agree.”
“I didn’t ask about Monica’s opinion.”
“Sierra even said she didn’t believe artists needed to get married. They needed to be free to express themselves, not tied down or committed to a relationship that could become stagnant and stifling.” Once again Jessica avoided the question.
“That’s pretty extreme. What does her New York boyfriend think about that?”
“He seemed perfectly fine, but he didn’t actually say much.”
“Well, you know what I think about that. Couples living together. It’s not what I believe. I don’t think it’s the healthiest thing for a relationship. More couples break up after they live together. And the Bible says—”
“You don’t have to preach to me, James Douglas,” Jessica cut in. “I know what the Bible says.”
James cleared his throat. “I’m not sure where we’re headed with this conversation, sweetheart.”
“Actually, I don’t either. Hey, I have an early call to go over the partnering I’m doing with Alonso. I gotta go to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” James said slowly. When Jessica was done talking she was done talking. “I won’t keep you. Good luck. Save me a ticket for Swan Lake, will you?”
“You want to come back down here?”
“I’ve been planning on it. I love to watch you dance. It’s your biggest role so far, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Please don’t feel obligated. I know it’s a long ways to come and a lot of money for the airline ticket.”
James tried to suck in air. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Because if so, you’re doing a really good job of it.”
“You’re scared off that easily?” She sounded indignant. And, if James’ ears were working right, there was a hint of hurt in her voice.
“Of course not!” He tried to think of a softer way to say what was on his mind. “Things are strained between us. We need to talk, Jess. Really talk. The phone is terrible. I need to see you in person. I miss you.”
“Okay,” Jessica said quietly. “We’ll figure out a weekend. I really have to go now or I’ll be dead on my feet at five a.m.”
“Goodnight, my sweet Jess.”
The phone clicked and James groaned. She was killing him. Literally killing him.
Chapter 7
When James got off the phone he turned out the apartment lights and walked robotically toward bed. Falling onto the mattress, he turned on the television. Staring numbly at the screen he tried to figure out the subtle innuendoes of the brief conversation he’d just had with Jessica.
He almost wished Lydia was still up. She’d certainly be a distraction from the garbage and worry circling his brain. His sister had decided to do spring track a
nd got up early to run. He was going to miss her when she took off for college in August. He didn’t want to think about that. He was tired of being alone. He wanted to be married. It was time.
Not getting any answers, James got up a moment later, poured himself a soda, and snatched a bag of Doritos from the cupboard, ripping it open. Diving into the food with gusto, James banished the guilt of high doses of sugar and salt.
He munched and refilled his extra large glass mindlessly for almost an hour. He and Jessica had gone from the topics of marriage and babies to artists living together to her chiding him not to preach to her. Jessica was sensitive about religion and church after her childhood sweetheart had been killed in an automobile accident almost five years earlier. She was still finding her way back to her faith.
At the end of an hour James had eaten the entire bag of potato chips and drunk nearly a liter of Coke. His eyes glazed over as he switched between channels of news, old movies, and inane game shows. When he glanced at the clock it was creeping close to midnight.
Which made him suddenly think of April Murphy and her husband’s telephone calls while he was stationed overseas in a war zone. Was midnight a difficult time of the night for her? Did she lie in bed with good memories, or with tears rolling down her face?
The ballet dancer, Sierra Armstrong, was a spoiled brat. He wanted to wring her pretty little neck. He hated the thought that she was influencing Jessica away from marriage and a family.
James chided himself for having uncharitable thoughts toward the woman who was Jess’s nemesis. He wished Jessica would confide in him and tell him what she was truly thinking. Then they could deal with it. Figure it out. Work it out together.
But man, it would be easier to live with someone like April Murphy who wasn’t having a crisis of faith or marriage. A woman who obviously believed in marriage and family.
James wondered what April was doing right then, and if Daphne had finally settled into bed. Or did April bring her daughter into bed with her to cuddle and comfort each other?
He could picture the sadness and loneliness the two shared. Life could be so unfair. It was one of the most frustrating aspects to most people’s lives—the question of why bad things happened to good people. Why did God allow death and pain and suffering to His children? Why did someone like April have to go through the loss of her true love, and now raise their child alone at the tender age of only twenty-five?
Spring in Snow Valley Page 44
