A Marriage Carol (8 page)

His eyes sparkled. “Just that it has never failed in all our years.”

I took the pot and held it near the fire. “Your wife. What’s wrong with her? Why does she stay upstairs?”

“Believe me, if she could come down, she would be right at your side. It’s just her stage of life.”

I wanted to ask more questions, how long they’d been married, how long he had cared for her, how many people had gone through what I was doing, but the curiosity of the golden bowl beckoned and I thrust it onto
the fire. I closed my eyes as the mist ascended and the power of the snow enveloped me.

Music had taken me to the threshold of my past, but this time I heard a voice crackling through a tinny speaker. It gave an ominous weather forecast, a freak storm that had taken the region by surprise. Equally ominous traffic reports told of motorists stranded in cars and urged everyone to stay inside and not venture out.

“Shhh!” Becca said. She was huddled in the living room with her brothers under a cover they had dragged from my bed.

“Why don’t we just watch a movie,” David said.

“There’s no electricity, dope,” Justin said. “That’s why we can’t turn on the lights.”

“Then how can we hear the radio?”

“It uses batteries, goofball.”

“Quiet!” Becca said. She pulled the radio closer and turned up the volume.

The newscaster gave a list of closed roads and many accidents. Her cell phone rang and she fumbled in her pocket and opened it. “Mom?”

“No, it’s your aunt Susan. Becca, have you heard anything from your mom and dad?”

“Not yet. And the electricity went off.”

“I figured. We’ve been trying the home line for a while.”

Becca got up from the couch and walked out of earshot of the boys who kicked at each other from opposite sides of the couch.

“Aunt Susan,” Becca said softly. “I’m scared.”

“Your dad’s a good driver. They’re probably stuck somewhere in a bad cell area and—”

“No, I don’t mean that. I’m worried about them, but I’m scared something’s happening. There was a letter on Dad’s desk. From a lawyer. I opened it.”

“Oh Becca. I’m so sorry. I’m sure they’ll work it out.”

“No, it’s talking about a divorce and papers and their agreement. I don’t understand most of it but it looks like it’s a done deal. Do you know anything about this?”

Silence on the other end. “Honey, I wish I could drive down there right now and be with you. I’m so sorry. We’ve been praying for your mom and dad, and I knew things were bad. I didn’t know they’d hired a lawyer.”

Tears streamed down Becca’s face. “Why are they doing this?”

A pause on the other end. “Honey, you have to pull together for your brothers. Let’s just get you through tonight and we’ll deal with all of this. Together. Do you understand?”

Hearing my sister talk this way to my daughter gave me a chill. We had never been what I would call “close,” but I could tell Becca was comforted by her words. Susan was acting in my stead, providing the support and comfort I couldn’t.

The boys were ratcheting up the noise, then David came running in with his blanket wrapped around him and bumped into the doorjamb and fell. Wails pierced the room.

“Justin!” Becca yelled.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I have to go, Aunt Susan.”

“Call me if you hear anything.”

“I will.”

“And know that we’re praying for you.”

“Thank you.” Becca hung up and gathered David in her arms and dragged him to the living room. “We have to work together to get through this. Mom and Dad are stuck somewhere.”

“Are they going to be okay?” David asked, sniffling.

Hearing his concern broke my heart.

“They’ll be fine, but they can’t call right now. So we have to stick together. I want you to go upstairs and get all your covers. We’ll push the couch and love seat together and make a big tent in the living room to keep us warm.”

“Yes!” Justin said.

“But what about Santa?” David said. “If we’re in the living room, he won’t come, will he?”

Justin snickered and Becca ignored him. She sounded just like me when she said, “He won’t care, if we’re asleep.”

“But how will he see the tree if the lights don’t work?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “The guy can come to every house on the planet and squeeze through a chimney, and you’re worried he won’t be able to see?”

She flicked on a flashlight and gave it to David. “Just get your covers and hurry back. No fighting. And watch your step coming down.”

The two were off in a flash and Becca hit her contact list on her cell. She chose both my phone and Jacob’s and texted, “We’re ok. Wherever u r, be safe.”

She hit the send button and closed the phone. She looked out the front window at the falling snow and more tears came. She wiped them away quickly as the boys clambered downstairs.

I turned away from the scene, overwhelmed by her emotion and resolve. I wanted to reach out, to write a message on the window or call out, but I couldn’t break through. When I looked again, Becca was gone and there were my parents, dressed in their Sunday best, sitting close to each other in a Christmas Eve service at their retirement home. There were perhaps twenty people attending, all dressed in bright reds and greens. When the pastor, who was wearing khakis and a polo shirt, asked if there were any prayer requests, several hands went up. My mother clutched a wad of tissues in one hand and lifted it when the man asked if there were any unspoken requests. He nodded as if he understood. She raised the tissues to her face, and my father put an arm around her and pulled her close.

It did not dawn on me until that moment, but if I was seeing what was happening in real time, I might also be
able to find Jacob. I looked back at the golden pot and shook it, some of the water slapping out and hissing on the burning wood.

“Careful,” Jay said beside me, but I struggled to stay focused on the misty steam until a building came into view. Through the snow and foggy window I saw a man pacing, looking out from his book-lined office. On the desk were white pages in various piles, with sticky “sign here” notes. He glanced at his watch, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

“This is not what I want to see,” I said to Jay. “I want to know where my husband is.”

“Don’t try to control it,” he said. “You’ll learn by simply observing.”

The next scene was my sister’s home. She and her husband in their bedroom closet, wrapping paper and presents around them, were deep in prayer. For us. For our marriage. It was humbling and humiliating.

“You have people who care for you,” Jay said.

Engulfed in the mist again, the water bubbling and frothing, another home with few books and more linoleum came into view. A figure sat at a makeshift computer table, a TV blaring a football game in the background. A
beer in one hand and a mouse in the other, he navigated through his Facebook contacts. I closed my eyes.

“Do you know him?” Jay said.

“He’s a friend I knew in high school.”

“But you’ve become reacquainted.”

“Only online. It’s nothing, really. Found his picture on Facebook and friended him.”

The longer we lingered at Erik’s house, with Erik typing a message with two fingers, the more interested Jay became and the more uncomfortable I grew. I let the pot slip from the fire, but Jay held my hand there.

“Wishing you a warm and happy Christmas Eve,” Erik wrote. “Hoping things go well with the kids in the coming days. Hoping there are better times ahead for you. Love, Erik.”

“He didn’t get a good grade in typing class,” I joked.

Jay remained focused. “He doesn’t write like he’s just an old friend.”

“We’ve had some conversations over the past few months,” I said, and there was something hollow to my voice.

“Did you date in high school?”

“A little. We were just kids.”

“But you’ve made a connection now.”

“I have lots of Facebook friends.”

“How many of them sent you greetings on Christmas Eve? On your anniversary? On the day you were going to sign divorce papers?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I watched Erik crumple his beer can and toss it in the trash, then reach for another in the minifridge under the makeshift table.

“Have you met face-to-face?”

“Just at our reunion. It was innocent. He’s just being nice to think of me and write.”

“Something happened in your eyes when you saw him. When you read his message, a light went on.”

I nodded. “All right, I’ll admit there’s a spark. Just remembering those early years. The youthful infatuation. Mental gymnastics about the past. Wondering how things might have wound up if …”

“If you had chosen that life instead of this one,” Jay said. “And whether or not it’s too late to still choose?”

“I guess the thought crossed my mind that we could have a life together. He’s coming off a bad relationship. He learned a lot from it,” I added, realizing I sounded defensive.

“Like controlling his drinking.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know about that. He must have stock in Coors.” The scene lingered and I tried to talk to mask my discomfort. Laughing at some unharnessed memory of Erik when we were young.

“Marlee, you have a good chance at happiness. You have great kids. Your family loves you. Cares for you. The best hope for lifelong love is not with anyone but the one you said ‘I do’ to.”

“My best chance died years ago, then. Jacob looks at us as another investment gone bad. He would probably stay together to save the legal hassle and to keep the kids under one roof, but he won’t even fight anymore. He’s at the
whatever
stage. Whatever happens now is fine with him. He’s emotionally checked out. He’s engrossed in his work. He’s not there anymore. And frankly, I’m glad.”

Jay didn’t speak and thankfully the scene changed again, this time to a dark, snowy field. I couldn’t make out much of the scenery because it was snow covered.

“Is that around here?” I said.

“I can’t tell,” Jay said. “Wait a minute. That looks like someone’s shoe sticking out of the snow.”

My breath caught and I choked out the words. “It’s
his. It’s Jacob’s.”

I scanned the scene and through the flurries noticed some trees, an incline, and a fence post. “I know this place. It’s right below where our car spun out.”

Jay jumped up and rushed to the front hallway, throwing his coat on. I followed, but he told me to stay with the fire. Stay with the scene.

With tears in my eyes I said, “I thought I tripped over a rock. It must have been him. He was trying to come here.”

“I’ll find him,” Jay said. “You stay here.”

“No, I have to go with you.”

“Marlee …” He put a hand on my shoulder and I felt something warm coursing through my body. A connection with the past and present? “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”