Mark walked over and smiled at his wife. “Honey, I’m done with all that stuff. I love you. I love Ethan. There’s nothing I would do to risk your love or jeopardize our lives together. Please believe me. We’ll be okay. I promise.”
Jessi bent down to give her son a hug and kiss. They rubbed noses, and Ethan giggled. “Mommy, you always do that.”
“What does it mean, Ethan?” Jessi asked, her eyes shining with the threat of tears. Her love for her child overwhelmed her. She’d never had anything in her life that meant so much to her. Not Blackie, the lab her parents had finally permitted her to have when she was six, nor Miranda, her favorite doll that she took to bed with her each night as a child. Nothing she could have ever imagined or experienced could have prepared her for the love she would pour out for this child.
Ethan looked up with an expression you wouldn’t expect from a four-year-old. “It means that I love you and you love me until forever, Mama. Just like Jesus. Right, Mama?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Until forever I will love you. Always remember that, Ethan—until forever.” Jessi rose from her place next to her son and managed a half smile for her husband. “Take care of him, Mark. I’ll see you around four thirty.”
She grabbed her school bag and headed out to a cold car with a feeling of dread. If only she had faith like Aunt Merry and her little Ethan, then maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. She closed her eyes for a brief second and tried to pray. Nothing. It would never change. God didn’t help losers like her, and he certainly didn’t have time to listen to her whining.
She could see why God loved Aunt Merry and Ethan. Of all the people in the world, these were the two she loved the most. Who wouldn’t love them? They were the kind of people who inspired others just by watching them. They didn’t have to speak a word. The love within them said it all. One look into their eyes, and a person experienced a sense of peace. Aunt Merry had her wisdom and unconditional love, and Ethan with his wide-eyed wonder and innocence. The sound of pelting ice pulled her out of her reverie.
Great! Freezing rain again, she thought. I’ll have to call Mark and tell him if he’s going out to be careful. I am so sick of these Oklahoma winters.
She slowly pulled out of the driveway and headed to Roosevelt Elementary School, where she taught a classroom full of third graders. Her mind quickly shifted to the task at hand: making it to school in one piece. Why school hadn’t already been called off, she couldn’t fathom. “Nothing to do now but keep on going,” she muttered to herself. “Tomorrow the sun will be out, and it’ll be sixty. Crazy January weather. A couple more miles and I am home free, at least until school is out.”
Driving slow did have its advantages, Jessi reminded herself. Lately she was in too much of a hurry to take the time to look at the stately old homes that surrounded her school. Someday she would love to live in a house like one of these—two-story, brick homes with white shutters and brick sidewalks leading up to big front doors with brass knockers; front porches, with porch swings, that spanned the entire front of the house. Some of the homes still had Christmas decorations up. Big, fresh green wreaths with red bows hanging from second-story balconies and candles lit in every window. Even brightly colored lanterns with little tea lights graced the steps to a few of the homes.
One night she had taken Ethan on a Christmas-light drive, and she purposely drove through this neighborhood. She had fallen in love with the lanterns and the candles, all the decorations, really. Something about a candle in a window made a place feel inviting, like you could go in and sit by a fire with a mug of hot chocolate and a good book. The tree would be brightly lit with gifts underneath and a train track running completely around it. Antique glass ornaments of all shapes and sizes would hang from each limb, and an angel would grace the top, watching over her keep. She could still picture the look on Ethan’s face as he took it all in. He was in awe over everything. Ethan had his favorites too: the snowmen with eyes of coal and carrot noses, Santas and reindeer on rooftops, and oh, the lights—bright white lights, blue ones, or all the multi-colored sets. He couldn’t get enough of them. Some flickered, and some raced along. Faster and faster, just like his race cars at home. He even rounded out the scene with his own sound effects—
zoom, zoom
. What surprised her most was when he wanted to stop the car and get out for a nativity scene. “Mom, please,” he’d pleaded, and she’d never been able to deny those eyes when he really put his all into it. They stopped for a little while, and she watched as he went from life-sized camel to cow to lamb. He would stand at each piece for a minute or two. Finally, he ended up at the manger. When he knelt down on his knees and bowed his head, tears formed in her eyes. Normally, she took his faith with a grain of salt, knowing he was a four-year-old boy who was greatly influenced by his great-aunt Merry, who watched him while Jessi was working. This time she did not know why she let this simple act of obedience to a God she refused to serve bother her.
On occasion when Jessi would let herself drift, she liked to think about what others had and what she was lacking. On occasion she became quite maudlin, and she forgot exactly what she had to be thankful for. It usually happened when something in her life was considerably stressful. She would find herself wandering, daydreaming about living in someone else’s life or the “once upon a time” dreams she had had and how far away she was from seeing them become a reality.
Maybe this time Mark would be able to stay dry and hold down a job. Her own salary was steady, but it wouldn’t allow her to live in a neighborhood like this one or eventually get that great play set Ethan had wanted for Christmas. Money was always just a little too tight. Expectations were always a little too high, and too many times reality was a bit too much of a letdown. She’d done her best for Ethan with Christmas this year. She found him a great refurbished two-wheeler in the perfect colors: blue and red. It had tassels hanging from the handlebars and a horn that he just loved honking. But she wanted to do more. She’d loved their little house when they first bought it. She knew it would be a first home, and she was okay with that. They would fix it up little by little, and as their family grew, they would move into something bigger and start the process again and again until they were in their dream house. Where did all those dreams go?
I guess the ice is giving everyone a hard time this morning
, she thought as she pulled into an empty parking lot. The only other car was Principal Davies’. She half skated across the parking lot as she made her way to the school building. The sound of silence that greeted her as she walked in the door was altogether unnatural for a school. At the very least she should have heard teachers chatting among themselves, chalk clicking upon chalkboards in preparation for a day of learning, and the sound of a typewriter emanating from the office as Julie, the school secretary, typed memos from her perch behind the counter. Nothing but silence.
“Hello, is anyone here?” Jessi yelled out, knowing full well that Dr. Davies was somewhere in the building.
Not only was his car in the parking lot, but the doors were unlocked. At least the teachers’ entrance was.
“Jessi? Is that you?” Dr. Davies rounded the corner, probably coming from the copy room. “Didn’t you receive my message? I left a message on your voicemail that school had been cancelled for today. This ice storm is going to be a killer.”
Jessi groaned and glanced outside. She had forgotten to charge her cell phone. Her windshield looked like one of those glass block showers. Everything was out of focus. Heading straight home now would definitely be a problem. At the very least, the roads wouldn’t be drivable until the rain stopped. She wasn’t sure if the city even owned salt or sand spreaders, let alone was able to pay someone enough to risk their lives trying to save someone else’s. Probably not.
The words “Looks like I’ll be getting caught up on some of my grading today,” managed to escape from her lips, when all she really wanted to do was get back in her car and head home. She resigned herself to her day, even though her heart screamed for a second chance. If only she had checked the messages before she and Mark had their semi-argument she would be at home right now having breakfast with her son. If only. Her life thus far had been a series of “if onlys.”
If only Mom and Dad had loved each other enough to stay together. If only I had listened to the voices in my past telling me that Mark was nothing but trouble. No, that’s not right. Then I wouldn’t have Ethan, and I would do anything for Ethan…even marry Mark again.
As she entered her classroom, her mental to-do list caught up with her. She made her way to her desk and began to check items off her list. It felt good to be getting something done. With everything else happening in her life, she hadn’t been able to keep up with her schoolwork. As she immersed herself in her work, she completely forgot about calling Mark.
***
By eleven, things seemed to be getting a bit better. The freezing rain had changed to rain as the air warmed up a bit. Mark figured this was as good a time as any to head out and grab the ingredients he needed for dinner. “Come on, buddy. We have to run to the store. Where’s your coat?”
Ethan went to his hook in the hallway where Mom put his coat and his backpack. He grabbed his coat, which was bright orange (Mom said it was easier to find him in a crowd that way), and walked back to his dad, who helped him put it on. “It shouldn’t take us too long. Your mom still likes spaghetti, right?”
“She loves it, especially the cheese bread,” Ethan said, speaking more for himself than his mother.
Together they headed out to the garage, where Mark’s car had been sitting for the last six months. He still had his license, as his rehab stint hadn’t been the result of an accident. He’d willingly checked himself in to prove to Jessi that he didn’t have a problem. He figured if he went willingly, she would know he really wasn’t an alcoholic, as she so loved to call him. And he’d proved himself. He didn’t have a problem. A guy with a problem wouldn’t be able to go six months without a beer, right? He couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. What was so wrong with a beer now and then? And what was with her attitude this morning. It was like she didn’t trust him with his own son. Well, Ethan was his son too, and he had just as much of a right to be with him as Jessi did. As far as he was concerned, she sheltered the kid a bit too much for his own good. If he was going to learn to get along in the real world, he was going to have to be in it once in a while. And besides that, she was going to turn him into a mama’s boy. That was out of the question. No son of his was going to be some whining wimp tied to his mama by the apron strings. It was time to take over the education of young Ethan and teach him to be a man.
Mark opened the car door and helped Ethan get buckled in his booster seat. That was one thing he would not challenge Jessi on. She’d blow up if she ever found out Ethan wasn’t in his safety seat. Their man-to-man talks would have to be from the front seat to the backseat, not like Mark and his dad’s—sitting next to each other in his dad’s old Buick, his dad with a beer in his hand, and him with a root beer, just like Dad.
Someday I’ll be just like him
, he had thought to himself. He would picture himself sitting in the front seat of a car like this one on a hot summer day with a nice cold beer. Nowadays you couldn’t even have a beer outside of the car and then drive, let alone tool along with one. Course, he didn’t let laws keep him from having fun when he was younger. He and his buddies would pick up a case and cruise down country roads like there was no tomorrow.
Yep, the fun stopped about six years ago, when he met Jessi. Granted she wasn’t a religious freak like her aunt Merry, but she was pretty straitlaced—no partying, no swearing, and certainly no fooling around before they were married. She was up front with him about that. He figured she was lying to him about the religion stuff. It turned out she wasn’t. She didn’t have time for a God who would allow so much pain and suffering in her life. Then she figured she wasn’t worthy of his love anyway. He could never figure that one out. If ever there was someone worthy of God’s love, it was a goody-two-shoe like his wife. He had never been attracted to teachers’ pets or Ms. Perfects before. She definitely fit into those categories. For the life of him, he could not remember what it was that had attracted him to her in the first place. She was pretty, that was for sure, with her blond hair and dark eyes. Dark brown. He’d never seen such dark eyes before. Indian eyes, she had told him later. He first noticed her at one of the college hangouts near Oklahoma State University. She’d been sitting with her friends at a table, and they were laughing and carrying on, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d asked her to dance, and they danced a couple of numbers before he offered to buy her a beer. She politely declined the beer and asked for a Sprite. He should have figured something was up with that but then dismissed it with the thought she was probably letting up because she was driving. Talk about wrong first impressions. Later he’d learned the only reason she was even there was because it was one of her roommates’ birthdays and she was in the minority when it came to choosing the place to celebrate. He’d gotten her number and promised to give her a call. After putting it off for a week, he was unable to get her off his mind, so he called her. They decided to get together the following Saturday for the OSU vs. OU football game. Being big rivals, the game promised to be packed to the hilt and a great showdown between two good football teams. About a half hour before kickoff, Jessi met him outside the stadium, as planned. He was duly impressed by her knowledge of football and didn’t mind letting her know. She had played flute in the marching band all through high school and had never missed a game in four years. Sometimes she lost her voice from yelling so much but never missed a game. Therefore, she developed an understanding of football, if not a love of the game.