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Cassandra clapped her hands together. “Oh, I have something even better. We could pit my fifth graders against Al’s six graders. My students would love it. And we’d win, too.”

“Hey
” Al feigned insult
“you’re forgetting that the sixth grade teacher… that would be me… already beat the fifth grade teacher.” He grinned. “That would be you.”

“He’s got you there, Cassandra,” Jeff said.

Patti listened to the good-natured banter and felt herself shriveling on the inside. Left out. Excluded.

Did Al even remember she was there?

* * *

It was nearly midnight by the time Al drove the minivan into the garage and cut the engine. “I’m glad you accepted Jeff’s invitation. It was fun.”

“Yes,” Patti replied softly as she opened the passenger side door.

He got out, too, and went around the car to help her with the babies, both of them sound asleep. “Didn’t you have fun?”

“It was alright.” She headed into the house, diaper bag on one shoulder, Sunni’s infant carrier gripped with two hands.

He followed with Weston. “Did something happen to upset you?”

“No.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Her tone held an edge of warning.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He frowned. She wasn’t telling the truth. Something was wrong. She’d enjoyed herself when they first got to Jeff’s, but then she’d suddenly stopped participating. The twins hadn’t been a lot of trouble. Not enough to keep her from playing the game with the others.

As they put the babies to bed, Al’s thoughts replayed the events of the evening. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what had spoiled things for Patti. She’d been all smiles for a while. Had someone said something to hurt her feelings? If so, he didn’t know what.

He went downstairs to turn off the lights and check the locks, stopping long enough in the kitchen to put a couple of glasses into the dishwasher. When he looked up, Patti was watching him from the doorway.

“Al?” Her voice was soft and sad. “Why don’t you tell me about what’s happening at school? I didn’t know any of the things you and the others talked about tonight. Jeff knows more from Penny than I do from you, and he’s just her boyfriend.”

He straightened. “What should I have told you?”

“Well, what about the field trip you’re planning for the fifth and sixth graders.”

He had the feeling he should understand more than she said. “We haven’t firmed anything up yet. What’s to tell?”

“Jeff knew.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Why was she crying? Over a field trip?

“Penny isn’t even involved, but she told Jeff about it.”

Weariness washed over Al. He was tired of doing or saying the wrong thing all the time. Why couldn’t something go right between them? Why couldn’t Patti sustain a good mood for longer than five minutes?

Swallowing a sigh, he said, “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted me to tell you everything about my workday. But if that’s what you want, I’ll tell you.” He stepped around the kitchen island and pulled her into his arms. “I promise.”

Chapter 6

AL WENT TO CHURCH alone the next morning. Patti said she was too tired to go. She and the twins would stay home.

To be honest, it was a relief. No minivan. No diaper bags. No infant carriers. No temperamental wife who was either angry or in tears.

Great attitude for a Sunday
.

But who could blame him? He felt as if he were trapped in a pinball machine, never knowing what was going to bang into him next.
Boing! Boing! Boing!
One minute Patti was in a good mood, and the next she was mad or crying. Or both.

Arriving late, he slipped into the empty back row and joined with the singing in progress, but his worship wasn’t heartfelt. He didn’t get lost in the lyrics and music, not like he did most Sundays. His thoughts kept drifting to Patti. He kept wondering what he was doing wrong, why they weren’t as happy as they used to be.

She was unhappy too often.

He was unhappy too often.

God, what’s wrong with us?

The music ended, and the people in the row in front of him turned to say good morning and shake his hand. He pasted on a smile, pretending all was well.

Hypocrite
.

* * *

Patti carried the box from Sweet Baby Things into the nursery. Two matching cribs were placed against opposite walls, two matching dressers beside them, the drawers packed with baby clothes. The way the twins were growing, they would soon be sleeping here rather than in their bassinets in the master bedroom.

Kneeling on the floor beneath the large window, she cut the packing tape on the box and opened the lid to look at her latest purchase. Al wouldn’t be happy when he saw the price tag.

But how could he complain? She needed this. Wasn’t he always telling her they had to cut the
wants
and buy the
needs
? Well, this was a need. Even he would have to see that.

Except she should have discussed it with him before placing the order. Over three hundred dollars. How could she spend that kind of money without checking with him first? But hadn’t he said he didn’t want her to use formula? So wasn’t this the next logical step?

Her stomach churned as she imagined their raised voices. She sat on the floor, leaned her back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to be a nag.

A nagging wife was as annoying as the constant dripping on a rainy day. That’s what Proverbs said. That’s what she’d become to Al. A constant dripping. A spendthrift who spent three hundred dollars in the middle of the night.

The image of the carefree Cassandra popped into her head, and she felt sick to her stomach. Sick with dread. Cassandra liked Al, maybe a little too much. Cassandra was gorgeous, thin, and employed in the same profession that Al loved with his whole heart.

There wasn’t anything interesting about Patti. Not anymore. When she and Al were dating, she often talked to him about various manuscripts as she shepherded them through the publishing process. She would sing the praises of some wonderful new author. Sometimes she would ask him, as a man, would he read a story about this or that?

Nowadays, her conversations were about babies and diapers and housework and how tired she was. Some days she felt lucky to make it into the shower. She spent money she shouldn’t, lost her temper too easily, and cried over nothing.

Speaking of tears…

She grabbed a cloth diaper from the stack on the nearby changing table and dried her eyes. Then she allowed her gaze to sweep the nursery, remembering when she and Al painted the room a few months before the twins were born.

It had been a warm Saturday in early May, warm enough to open the windows while they worked. Al had stood on the stepladder, carefully applying the sky blue paint on the wall near the ceiling, while Patti worked with equal care around the white window casing. They’d been at it about an hour when she paused to stretch. Her back ached, and she felt starved for air. Sometimes she would swear one of these babies slept on top of her lungs. A tiny moan escaped her lips as she released a deep breath of air.

Al was down the ladder in an instant. “You okay?” he asked, his face wreathed in concern. “Maybe you should go sit down.”

“Don’t be silly. I just needed to stretch. I’m all right.”

“I should have asked Eric to help. You shouldn’t be around these paint fumes.”

She set the brush on the edge of the paint can, then with hands on his shoulders, pulled him forward for a kiss, her distended belly trying its best to keep them apart. “Stop worrying. The window’s open. There’s plenty of fresh air.”

She started to draw away. He pulled her close again.

“I like those flecks of blue in your hair. Did I tell you that?” Laughter filled his eyes.

“I’ve got paint in my hair?”

He nodded. “I like it. Goes with the paint on your nose.”

“I don’t have paint on my nose.”

He took his right thumb and drew it across the tip of her nose, then held it up for her to see. Sure enough, there was a smudge of blue paint on it. His smile broadened as he watched her.

In a flash of insight, she guessed the truth. “The paint was on your thumb. You just put it on my nose. Why you
” She clasped his head between her hands and pulled him downward, as if for a kiss. But at the last moment, she turned and rubbed the end of her nose against his, Eskimo-style. “Ha! Got you back.”

“Mrs. Bedford, you’re in serious trouble now.” He swept her off her feet and into his arms, carrying her out of the nursery and into their bedroom while he peppered her with kisses and spread the blue paint around.

Oh, that had been a happy day. Just one of many happy days as they painted and decorated this room and dreamed of what it would be like when the babies arrived.

It hadn’t been so very long ago. Only a matter of months. Could they be happy like that again?

Please, God. Let us be happy like that again.

* * *

The sermon that morning was on stewardship, and Al felt God trying to tell him something through the pastor’s words. He had an awful feeling that he wasn’t doing much of a job of managing God’s blessings.

He shouldn’t have let Patti talk him into buying their house. It was too much for them with only one salary. And it wasn’t just the mortgage. It was the heat and electricity and water and sewer, too. And the insurance.

But what could he do about all of that now? Sell the house? Patti would be heartbroken. Wasn’t she sad enough already?

With those glum thoughts roiling in his head, Al arrived at the side exit of the church at the same time as Till Hart.

“Good morning, Al.” The elderly woman
in her mid-seventies but as spry as many who were more than a decade younger
smiled at him. “Where’s that pretty wife of yours? Not to mention those precious babies.”