Argosy Junction (21 page)

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at work today?”

“Boss said I could take a vacation day. That way I still don’t have three sick days in a row. He’s giving me Monday too, but then I’m back for good. I don’t have any more free hours to use for personal time after that.”

Anxious to switch rooms before late checkout became another full day, Lane asked to return to the Towers. Once everything was transferred, Lane called for laundry service reminding Matt once more at the vast differences in their lives. It would never have occurred to him to call for laundry service; that’s why they’d invented Laundromats.

Suddenly, Lane whirled to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and grinned mischievously. “So, are you going to show me life in the big city? I want to see what people do for fun, for every day, I want to see your work; I want to live your life. Whatddya say?”

“I say that you just let me off the hook for the opera. I never do cultural stuff so I’m safe.”

“Hey! No fair! I’ve always wanted to go, and I intend to spend a small fortune on a gorgeous dress to boot! I can’t attend alone! Do you really want me wandering around the city after dark alone?”

Extricating himself from her arms, Matt grabbed her hand and led her down the hall to the elevator, down to the lobby, and out the front doors. “That was so low. How could you want to sit in a cramped hot theater listening to awful music just so you can dress up?”

“Who says the music is awful?” A car crawled past them blaring hip-hop lyrics that made both of them blush. “It can’t be as bad as that, and you are out here as a willing listener!”

“Willing? No. That is foisted on me and isn’t constant—” He stopped as another car blasting equally obnoxious noises and lyrics bounced past them breaking decibel laws and levels as it went.

Her smirk was the epitome of smugness. “I rest my case.”

They wandered around the streets of the city. Lane eventually learned that Matt wasn’t very familiar with the area around the Towers. Most residents of his area of town didn’t travel into the “cultural district” that held the museums, RAC, convention center, and the upscale stores. The inner city residents stuck to “their side of the tracks” with the occasional exception of those who worked in the hospitality and food industries.

They rounded a corner and entered a section of the city that Matt had heard of, but had never seen. It was the original town square and small side streets. These were walled-in by larger buildings around it making the area seem like a lost village inside the large modern city. A fountain, overgrown with ivy, splashed merrily in the center further increasing the area’s charm.

“Oh! It’s the Lost Village. I’ve never been here before. It’s like our version of NYC’s Greenwich Village, but much smaller and all commercial.”

They wandered, hand-in-hand, through the bookstores, the boutiques, the toy store, and the antique stores. A few upscale resale shops caught Lane’s eye and imagination. “I wonder if any of these places have something for the opera!”

With a groan, Matt followed her in and out of several stores as she tried on dresses and bemoaned the favorites that were too large or too small. Finally, Lane stepped from a dressing room actually wearing one of the dresses she’d picked. “Look! Isn’t it gorgeous? I love it!”

The dress was incredible. Unlike most she’d tried on, the dress was knee-length. Princess seams flared at the hem, and a tulle petticoat peeked out from beneath the full hemline. The sleeves lay exactly on her shoulders, and to one side, a perfect rolled satin rose added the only ornamentation.

Matt nodded appreciatively. “That’s the one. That fabric is exactly the color of your eyes. Rich chocolate.”

“I’ll get it and have it laundered immediately! This is going to be so fun. Now all I need are shoes—”

He grabbed her hand, did a half twirl, and pushed her toward the dressing room. “Go take that thing off before you plan another shopping expedition! I’m going next door to the toyshop. I understand places like that.” He winked at the sales clerk as he sauntered out of the store.

“I think you’re being ridiculous. This was fun. All the neat things in a store like this. Here we are, tucked away into this little hamlet in the city. It’s like a fairy tale! I bet this—” Lane emerged from the dressing room, dress slung over one shoulder and hair tousled. She stood, her free hand on her hip, and jerked her head at the door. “Did he really leave?”

The middle-aged woman was as elegant as a first lady in her classic suit and perfectly coiffed hair, but she giggled like a young girl at her first dance. “He left just as he said he would. He’s right though, that dress is just perfect. I have a bag—”

The bag was perfect, small enough to tuck into Matt’s pocket during the show so she didn’t lose it, but large enough to hold a brush, Kleenex, and tube of lipstick. Several rows of sequins cut diagonally across the purse, giving it an art-deco appearance.

By the time Lane found Matt, he was seated on a small toddler-sized wooden chair assembling a dollhouse from interlocking wooden squares. An antique reproduction toy, it was designed to allow a child to build an entire dollhouse by first assembling blocks, fitting them into rooms, and then rooms into the house. Even after Lane spoke to him, Matt remained engrossed in his project.

“Matt!”

“Wha— Oh. Look at this! Isn’t it the neatest thing? I think Patience needs one of these, don’t you? I didn’t buy her a birthday present… “

Lane saw the price of the set and wondered if she should discourage him. That thought disappeared when she saw the sets of furniture and people that coordinated with the blocks. “Oh look; people and furn— oh! You can buy roof accessories and look! A turret!”

Before long, they had quite a collection of dolls and furniture, buildings and roofs. The storeowner packed everything carefully in a shipping box and directed them to the nearest shipping center. In a few days, Patience would be able to build her own dollhouse in Montana!

Thirteen

The sunrise over Rockland was magnificent. Lane stood in her room watching the sky grow pink over the distant skyline and marveling at how similar it was to watching the sunrise over the Montana mountain ranges. From the twentieth floor, it was as though she stood on the top of the nearest peak and watched the waking of the world.

She and Matt had spent hours debating how to spend the day on Thursday, and finally, decided on a tour of the towns around the outskirts of the city. Within driving distance was the little town of Fairbury where the famous Alexa Hartfield lived, a quaint village so perfectly planned that it was like stepping into a nineteenth century English town, and a bit farther, Little Vienna. Little Vienna didn’t interest Lane, so they’d planned to tour both of the other towns and eat lunch at Lake Danube.

Two thousand miles away, Patience awoke in her own bed, raced to see Boozer, the horses, and threw her arms around her father as he dismounted from an early morning overview of the flocks. “I love being home! Lane will miss us when she stays in Rockland.”

“Stay in Rockland? She’s staying for a few weeks, but she’s coming home again.” Warren tugged Patience’s braid reassuringly.

“Not now. I mean when she gets married to Matt.”

“Do you think she’ll marry Matt?” As silly as it seemed to ask a nine-year-old little girl her opinion, Warren had learned early that his Patience understood people better than anyone he’d ever known.

“Yes. She loves him. But I think—” The child’s face was the very picture of unhappiness.

“I know you’ll miss her Patience but—”

“No. It’s not that. Matt loves God. Jesus is Matt’s best friend. Lane hates that. You know how Lane is when she doesn’t like something.”

Warren led his daughter to her swing at the corner of the house. He gently pushed her as they talked. “Patience, what do you remember about when we used to fellowship with the
Brethren
?”

“I had friends. We sang beautiful songs, and everyone was nice to us. We ate with people all the time, and you used to tell me about things that happened in the Bible.”

She twisted in the swing and gazed into her father’s tormented eyes. “Why do you hate God now, Daddy?”

“It’s so hard to explain, sweetie. I don’t really hate God. It’s more His people—”

Patience allowed the swing to untwist and stepped away from it. “That’s the same thing.”

“Oh, no it isn’t—”

Little hands planted firmly on small hips, and a wise little head wagged knowingly. “That’s not true, Daddy. If someone said that they loved you, but hated me or Mommy or Lane or the boys, you’d say they hated you too. You’d say that they can’t love you and hate your family, and that’s the same thing as hating God’s family. Even when they’re wrong.”

Shocked that she’d spoken so rudely to her father, and certain that she was in the greatest trouble of her life, Patience bolted from the yard, into the house, and threw herself on her bed sobbing. Martha rushed to see what the matter was, but Patience ignored all efforts to comfort her. Concerned, Martha hurried to find Warren for help.

She found her husband leaning on the swing with one knee in the sling. Seeing the look on his face, she knew that whatever had upset Patience had something to do with what bothered her husband. “Warren?”

“How did that little girl get to be so wise?”

“Why do you say that?”

“She says Lane is going to marry Matt.”

“Well we kind of assumed that, didn’t we?”

Shaking his head, Warren tried again. “She said that Lane would come home hurting because Matt loves Jesus better than Lane, and then she asked why I hate God.”

“Well it’s not God, really. Not really, it’s more the church—the people.”

As he nodded, he realized how his own words had sounded just minutes before. “That’s what I said. Patience proved me wrong.”

They talked for some time. Husband and wife shared intimate thoughts about their spiritual lives that they’d never discussed. For five years, they’d closed anything spiritual from their hearts and lives, and now it all spilled forth. What surprised Warren the most is the betrayal Martha had felt for years.

“You felt I betrayed you?”

Looking ashamed to admit her frustration, Martha nodded. “I know it’s probably not fair—”

“No, Martha. It isn’t fair! Why didn’t you tell me? How can I protect you and love you if you allow me to fail you?”

Her eyes flew up in surprise. “You’re angry because I didn’t tell you?”

“Well of course I am! If you saw this coming, why didn’t you say something?”

The conversation was incomprehensible at first. Martha sobbed out her frustrations and pain. Warren tried to decipher her meaning and swore several times under his breath, sending his wife into fresh tears. The boys came to the large picture window and watched as their parents worked through what was obviously a very serious problem.

“You’re telling me that you saw the direction that the
Brethren
would go?”

“You’re telling me you were really that blind? Warren, we had dear friends who loved classic movies who tossed them because other families slowly decided that we were more spiritual for not having a TV.”

“But we just didn’t like TV. We didn’t have time for it. I never implied others shouldn’t have it.”

Her hands clasped together tightly, Martha tried again. “But you liked it. You didn’t ask the Bryson’s about what great movie they’d found. You liked looking more spiritual.”

Dust flew as Warren kicked his toe into the dirt. “That is not fair, Martha.”

“Can you truthfully deny it?”

If anyone doubted where Lane and Patience got their tempers and their dogged determination, they need only look to Warren. He paced the area around him until a discernible rut formed. “Martha, I had no idea you thought so little of me.”

Martha wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him. “I don’t think little of you at all.”

“But—”

“Warren, you’re human. You let me down, but I knew you were human. Yes, I felt betrayed. I didn’t think you’d send our family through something like this. We had a very real faith. It was good. We abused it, and it became evil. Now, our children mistrust Christianity; they flee from anything that reminds them of God, and if someone has a genuine love of the Lord they avoid that person.”

She cupped his face in her hands and forced him to meet her gaze. “Warren, your daughter is in love with a very good man, but she’s going to run. She’s going to walk away from a relationship that I’ve prayed for since she was born because we didn’t protect her from spiritual abuse.

“It’s my fault too. I allowed myself to be blinded to my responsibility as your wife.”

His head shaking, Warren’s eyes questioned her, encouraging Martha to continue. “Warren, it became unsuitable even to hint that your husband might be wrong. You know what would have happened. Our relationship had become a polite series of pleasantries to look godly and be an example to others. We didn’t discuss things anymore! At least now, I can tell you what I think without you assuming that I’m a
Jezebel
!”

Without a word, Warren reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys. He gently kissed Martha’s forehead and walked to the Jeep. She watched, tears streaming down her face, as he bounced down the driveway, tore around the corner, and then disappeared behind a cloud of dust as he drove away from the ranch.

Patience rushed outside visibly shaken. “Is Daddy mad at me still? Is he going away because of me?”

Hunkered down on her heels, Martha smiled into her daughter’s worried eyes. “Your daddy is probably better right now when he’s hurting, than he’s been in fifteen years.”

“I was disrespectful.”

“Did you mean to be?”

Patience shook her head emphatically. “No, ma’am! I interrupted him though, and I told him he was wrong.”

“I think you did him good. Just don’t make it a habit.”

“I thought doing good things was a good habit?”

Laughing, Martha steered her precocious daughter toward the house. “Oh, boy. You’re something else, child. You’re something else.”