Under a Summer Sky (9 page)

“A
sa,” Maddie said, holding the phone against her chest. “Micah wants to know if we’d like to go to the fireworks.”

Asa opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus. “Do you?”

“It’s up to you—only you know how you feel.”

They’d left the Cape early on Monday, stopped in Boston for Asa’s treatment, and headed straight home to New Hampshire to escape the Cape Cod crowds, so going to a fireworks display—which would also be crowded—wasn’t Asa’s idea of a peaceful evening.

“Micah says Charlotte asked if we were coming,” Maddie added.

Asa rubbed his chin thoughtfully. How could he disappoint his only granddaughter? “All right,” he said finally.

Maddie put the phone to her ear. “We’d love to,” she said, and Asa shook his head at her exaggeration. “What time?” She paused, listening, and then said, “Hang on.” She held the phone against her chest again. “They’re all meeting at Beryl’s for pizza at eight and going from there.”

“Okay,” Asa agreed, even though he’d actually been hoping for a quiet supper, watching the Boston Pops on PBS, and turning in early.

“We’ll be there,” Maddie said. “Oh, anything . . . yup, you know your father . . . any form of meat . . . pepperoni, sausage—the healthy stuff. Okay, thanks, hon. See you later.”

Maddie retreated to the kitchen to hang up the phone, leaving Asa to resume his nap. They’d had a quiet week, and the burden of their disagreement still hung heavily between them. Except for the fatigue that continuously dogged his steps, Asa’s treatment had been uneventful.

Maddie had been cool and distant, only speaking when necessary—just enough to be cordial, and every evening she turned in early with her book . . . or stayed up late, if Asa headed to bed first. Even Harper sensed the discord between her two favorite people, and with her head between her paws and her ears in their worried position, she followed the movements of her dear ones with sad eyes. Dogs don’t take sides, but after countless walks, she started to be less than enthusiastic when Maddie reached for her leash; they’d already put in more than thirty miles that week and her pads were tender, but Maddie, remembering a tip Aiden Hatch had told her years earlier, pressed wet tea bags against them because he’d said the tannic acid in the tea would help toughen them up. And afterward, she encouraged Harper to walk on the grass. Maddie would not sit in the house. She wanted to make sure her husband knew she was unhappy.

And Asa, for his part, knew his wife wasn’t happy. He tried to be helpful, and he made every effort to catch up on his honey-do list, but nothing seemed to help. He knew what she wanted, but he refused to do it, so it finally came down to who would be more stubborn.

When seven thirty rolled around, Asa pulled himself off the couch. The house was quiet, and Maddie was nowhere to be found; Harper was gone too. Deciding they must’ve gone for a walk, he went out on the deck to watch the geese. The female, with her pointed tail feathers, sat dutifully on the nest while the gander, with his rounded tail feathers, swam back and forth protectively like a soldier on watch. Asa smiled at their devotion. He heard the front door, and moments later, Harper limped out onto the porch, her tail wagging.

“Are you trying to wear her out?” Asa asked with a wry smile.

“No,” Maddie replied coolly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Just need to change my shirt. Are we bringing chairs?”

“They’re already in the car.”

Asa retreated into the house, and Maddie filled Harper’s bowl with fresh water. “We’ll be back,” she told her as she lapped up the water. She filled a glass for herself, and taking a long drink, looked out the window to watch the geese.
What do they say to each other as they wing their way north?
she wondered.
Does he encourage her with tender words, “Just a little farther, dear”? And when they arrive, does he say, “Here we are, my love . . . our summer home”? And what happens when the day comes when she is too weak to make the trip? Does he stay by her side, his heart aching . . . realizing the end is near?

“Ready,” Asa said, interrupting her thoughts. Maddie turned and looked at her husband as if she was seeing him for the first time. “You look nice,” she said quietly.

Surprised, Asa smiled. “Thanks, I always try to look nice for my girl.”

“I know you do,” she said with a sad half smile. Then she walked over and gave him a hug, and he wondered what had changed while he was upstairs.

“We’ll be back, puppy,” he said, releasing Maddie and leaning down to scratch Harper’s ears. “You rest up,” he teased. “Who knows how many miles your mother has planned for tomorrow.” Harper thumped her tail, happily sensing a change in the demeanor of her beloved people.

Twenty minutes later, Flannery greeted them at the front door with a bark announcing their arrival. Beryl’s apartment in a beautifully restored Victorian had high ceilings and dark mahogany trim, as well as a fireplace that took up the better part of one wall and beautiful wide oak flooring. Micah had moved in with Beryl soon after they’d gotten engaged, and Charlotte—who loved Beryl with all her heart—adjusted to their new home like a Lab to water.

“How’d the race go?” Asa asked as Micah led them into the kitchen.

“Pretty well,” Micah answered. “I thought I might see you out there.”

Asa sighed. “I’m afraid my running days are behind me—ever since I had that knee injury.”

Micah nodded. “Well, I saw Linden. He asked how you were, and I told him as ornery as ever. He also asked if you ever fixed up your old Chevy pickup . . .”

Micah eyed his dad, but Asa just smiled. “I’m going to. It’s on my bucket list.”

“Yeah,” Micah said skeptically, “you keep saying that.”

“Well, if I don’t get to it, you can. . . .”

“I’d like to do work on it together.”

“We’ll see . . . maybe when you get back from your honeymoon.” He paused. “Did Henry run?”

Micah laughed. “He did. In fact, he won. He was two minutes ahead of the next runner.”

“Good for him,” Asa said with a smile. “Between running and his computer skills, he’s going to get a scholarship somewhere.”

After pizza and beer, they parked on a dirt road outside of town and walked down a worn path that led to an outcropping that looked out over the valley. Although the spot was usually a popular hangout for local teenagers, the teens must’ve found somewhere else to watch the fireworks that night. The family’s voices cheerfully filled the air, making it seem less desolate, and as the youngsters clambered up on the rocks, Asa set up the chairs they’d brought. He settled into one, feeling as if he could fall asleep right there, but when the first rocket screamed into the air, piercing the night sky, Charlotte scrambled off the rocks and leaped into his lap.

“It’s okay, hon,” he whispered in her ear, but she wasn’t convinced, and he smiled. For the first time, he was glad they’d come.

N
oah looked up from his pulpit. “Today’s sermon,” he began, “touches on one of my wife’s favorite topics.” He paused, surveying his flock, and everyone, including Laney, waited, wondering what her favorite topic was . . . especially since the title in the bulletin, “My Yoke Is Easy,” wasn’t very revealing. In fact, Stewart Nicolson, sitting in the back row, wondered if his minister liked his eggs over-easy. But Noah, famous for his long, dramatic pauses—which he believed kept his audience on the edge of their seats—looked down at his notes again, and when he finally looked up, he said, “Worry.”

The congregation chuckled and turned to look for their minister’s lovely wife. She was in her usual pew surrounded by her five handsome boys, and they knew she had good reason to worry. Noah nodded. “For a woman of abiding faith, my wife loves to keep her worries close to her heart.

“In our kitchen, there are several hand-painted signs that the boys have given her over the years to gently remind her to rise above her one . . .
and only
. . . fault.” He grinned impishly, and everyone laughed. “The sign over the oven boldly states: ‘S
TRESS
L
ESS
. . . P
RAY
M
ORE
.’ And the one on the mantel is from Proverbs. It commands: ‘T
RUST IN THE
L
ORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART
. A
ND DO NOT LEAN ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING.
I
N ALL YOUR
WAYS ACKNOWLEDGE
H
IM, AND
H
E WILL MAKE STRAIGHT YOUR PATH
.’ The one in the downstairs bathroom reminds, ‘C
AST ALL YOUR ANXIETY ON
G
OD, BECAUSE HE CARES FOR YOU
.’ And the one on the windowsill over the kitchen sink—where she spends most of her time—is from Philippians: ‘D
O NOT BE ANXIOUS ABOUT ANYTHING, BUT IN EVERYTHING BY PRAYER AND SUPPLICATION WITH THANKSGIVING LET YOUR REQUESTS BE MADE KNOWN TO
G
OD
.’ ”

The boys all turned to watch their mother’s reaction, but she just smiled and Noah continued. “But it’s not just Laney that worries . . . it’s me . . . it’s Tom . . . it’s Barbara . . . it’s Sue . . . it’s Lynn . . . it’s every one of us.

“So why is it then that, despite all of God’s loving reminders, we humans insist on carrying burdens of the world on our shoulders? Even our reading this morning cautions us against this sin . . . and it
is
a sin because it means we don’t trust God to take care of us. And for all you worry warts out there, Matthew 6:25–27 bears repeating: ‘Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you should put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet the heavenly Father feeds them . . .’ Through my wife I might add.” He smiled and everyone chuckled. Then he continued to read. “ ‘Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life?’ ” Noah looked up and repeated, “ ‘
Which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life?
’ ” And then, in classic Reverend Coleman style, he paused. “The answer is: none of us can add a cubit . . . or any other length of time . . . to our life by worrying. In fact, there have been numerous studies that prove anxiety can have a negative effect on one’s health.... So, in reality, the act of worrying can actually diminish the number of cubits we have left.”

He looked down at his notes. “There was a time, early in our marriage, when my wife was a carefree spirit. She took life as it came . . . and saw it as a cycle of changing seasons . . . a rising tide followed by an ebbing tide . . . a world where joy is often paired with sorrow . . . but, even so, she always had a cheerful, positive outlook.

“And then, she gave birth to our first son . . . and she’s never been the same.”

The congregation chuckled.

“When a woman becomes a mother, her old perception of the world is set back on its heels. The love she feels for her child is as fierce as a grizzly bear’s . . . and there is nothing that will stop her from protecting it. In fact, without a second thought, she will lay her life on the line for that new little human being; and the world—which she once viewed as a welcoming, wonderful place—becomes a giant danger zone, complete with yellow tape, and filled with endless reasons to worry.

“From the moment we brought Elijah home from the hospital, my wife was a changed woman. Was the car seat strapped in properly? Were we using the right diapers? Was every cabinet baby-proofed? Should he be allowed to use a pacifier or suck his thumb? Should he be sleeping on his side . . . his stomach . . . his back? Was he breathing? Was he getting enough fresh air? Was he warm? Was he too warm? Was he eating enough? Sleeping enough? Pooping enough? And why was his poop that awful green color?”

He looked up. “Sorry, E, I didn’t know you were going to be in church today.”

His oldest son smiled. It wasn’t the first time he’d been included in his father’s sermon.

“I will never forget the first time we took E and Gabe to the Barnstable County Fair. E was probably around two, and Gabe was still pretty new. In fact, I was carrying him in one of those baby carriers. Well, we went into a crowded tent that was serving a sit-down chicken dinner, and as we juggled our plates and looked for a place to sit, Laney realized E wasn’t with us. She turned to me, and with utter panic in her eyes, squeaked, ‘Where’s Elijah?’

“I looked around. ‘He was just here,’ I said, but in the sea of people, we couldn’t spot him right away. As we looked for him and called his name, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Pretty soon, everyone in the tent had stopped what they were doing and were looking too . . . but when Laney started to frantically make her way toward the exit, shouting his name at the top of her lungs, the crowd parted like the Red Sea . . . because a grizzly bear mother had lost her cub.

“Well, needless to say—as you all can see—he was located. In fact, it was just a moment later that my dear wife found him, standing outside, looking around innocently, completely unaware of the heart attack he’d just given his mother . . . and with tears streaming down her cheeks, Laney scooped him up, wrapped him in a bear hug, and held him so tightly I thought she’d never let him go.”

Noah smiled. “For years afterward, our boys had to hold hands at all times at the Barnstable County Fair. In fact, they’re lucky they don’t have tracking chips surgically implanted in their necks.”

At this, the congregation chuckled, and Noah smiled.

“Well, fast-forward twelve years and imagine E in middle school, announcing that he would
not
be holding anyone’s hand at the fair. He even ventured to say that he planned on hanging out with his friends . . . and not us. Needless to say, it was a rough night for his poor mother, whose memory of the traumatic night twelve years earlier was still ingrained in her memory. And to this day, although E is now twenty-one, Laney still has a hard time letting him go. Thank goodness someone invented the cell phone!”

Noah paused and looked down. “We all know how hard it is to let go. Every mother and father, since the beginning of time, has struggled with letting go of their offspring, but we must remember that our children are gifts from God, and they are put in our charge to love and raise and nurture . . . and through them, God teaches us to trust him. Even when illness or loss or tragedy strikes, He promises to be with us . . . and with them.

“Life isn’t easy for anyone. When we are facing difficult times, and it feels like our world is crashing down, and we look at other folks walking down the street or on the beach—and they are smiling or chatting with friends—we ask, ‘Why can’t that be me? Why can’t my life be easy like theirs?’ It’s then that we need to remember that we are not alone in our suffering—although it may seem like it at the time—there’s not a soul on earth that doesn’t face struggle at some point . . . but God is always there to give us the strength to soldier on.

“In chapter eleven, Matthew shares Jesus’ invitation: ‘Come to me, all who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’ ” Noah looked up, his eyes sparkling. “And these, my friends, are some of the most comforting words in the Bible.” He smiled. “We would all do well to inscribe them on our hearts. Amen.”