Up in Smoke (17 page)

Ron said, “I’m down here. Second door on the right.”

I went to the doorway and glanced in the partially open door. Through the opening, I saw Ron sitting in a rocking chair. He had a checkered black and red wool blanket draped over his lap and he flashed a smile as he saw me.

“Hey, Ron,” I said, pushing open the door as I entered the room. I sat down on the edge of the bed nearest to the chair he was in.

“Hey, Rick.” He looked me over and said, “What you doing here?”

“Wanted to check in on you. Penny told me you were here. How are you?” Hearing footsteps outside the doorway to the room, I looked over to see Brackon leaning against the doorframe, looking annoyed that I was there.

“Leave us, Son,” Ron said with a narrowed look at Brackon.

“The girls will be home soon from their sleepover. So don’t get too comfortable in that chair, old man.” He bolted down the hallway.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like that kid,” I said, looking back at Ron.

“He’s a chump. But I love those kids of his.” He rocked a little as he brought his hands to his lap and brought them together. “To answer your question—I’m doing good, Rick. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Why’d you come to live here?” I asked.

“The kids. Penny didn’t say that?”

“She did, but it’s a little suspicious that you’d move in here. You’re getting old. I just thought—”

Ron laughed. “If I needed help, I wouldn’t have come to my son’s house. He’s the furthest thing from helpful.”

“That’s true.”

“How’d the shady people like the car?” Ron asked.

I shook my head as I dipped my chin to my chest. “It was all going to work, and then the cops showed up—”

“What, why?”

“Cole. He followed me and tried to help.”

“Oh jeez.”

“Yeah. They caught the kid, but Lincoln’s on the run. Luckily we have some cop buddies helping out.”

“That’s good. Where’s the car now?” he asked.

“Sitting in my driveway. I can bring it by anytime you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted you to have it, Rick.”

“You sure? It didn’t work out with the deal. You can take it back.”

“Keep it and do whatever you want with it.” Ron smiled.

“Okay,” I replied, knowing that arguing with him would do no good.

“Do you think they’ll catch that Lincoln character?” Ron asked as he began rocking softly.

“I hope.”

Ron shook his head. “You better watch out.”

Fear rattled me at his words. “Yeah, I know. I’m a little worried. I have police watching my house and Beth’s, though.”

“How’s Beth feel about that?” he asked.

“She doesn’t know. She’s in the dark. I made sure they would be in an inconspicuous vehicle.”

“Good thinking.”

I shifted in my seat a little on the bed. “So you’re okay?”

“Yep. Just a little tired today. Took the night off. I can do that, you know. I own the place.” Ron let out a cough, covering his mouth. Then, he asked, “How’s Susan?”

“I don’t know. She’s still upset.”

“It’ll take some time.”

“Yep, and I’m going to counseling.”

“At church, I hope,” Ron replied, raising an eyebrow.

Nodding, I said, “Yes. My pastor is doing it.” Shaking my head, I said, “The wife won’t join me. She doesn’t even live in the same house. She moved into the guest house.”

“At least she’s nearby. She’ll come around eventually,” Ron replied with a smile on the corner of his lip. “She’s just got to see if you’re being
real
or just putting on a show.”

“I hope you’re right.”

We heard the front door open, and little footsteps pounded against the wood floor down the hallway. Then, Emmy and Joy came into the room.

“Grandpa!” they both shouted as they came across the floor and jumped into his lap.

He pulled them each into an arm and smiled. “You girls have fun at Destiny’s house?”

I stood up as they started talking to him about their sleepover. I said, “I’ll see you around, Ron.”

He nodded up at me and said, “Take care.”

Leaving the room, I headed down the hallway to leave. As I passed the living room entryway, I glanced in. Brackon was passed out on the couch with the TV blaring. I went into the room and picked up the remote. Turning it off, I saw a blanket hanging over the recliner near the couch and covered him up with it before heading to my car to leave.

A
week came and went, and it was time for another session of counseling. I mentioned the counseling session a few times to Susan with no response from her end, but I still hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d end up going with me. That morning, I sat in my car for thirty minutes staring at the gate that led out from the backyard.

She never showed.

When I pulled into the church that morning, I noticed a few extra cars in the parking lot. On my way down the hallway inside, I saw people in the sanctuary setting up decorations. There was an array of different colored cloths being draped all over the front of the sanctuary. Blues, reds, yellows and purples hung from rafters and ran down to the baptismal and piano. It looked similar to a scene you might find at a circus.

Walking into the pastor’s office, I glanced over my shoulder as I entered. “What’s going on in the sanctuary?”

He motioned for me to sit down, and he came around the desk to close the door. “It’s for the teens. This Sunday they’ll be doing a few skits.” He closed the door and took his seat back behind the desk.

“That’s right. I remember something in the announcements on Wednesday night about that.”

He nodded. “The kids have a lot of fun doing it.” He smiled as he continued, “By the way, I’m glad to be seeing you back in the pews again.”

I nodded. “I’m trying.”

“Good.” His eyes widened as he took a deep breath and said, “How are things going? Susan not joining us?”

“I feel like I’m trying to run in five feet of mud. No, she isn’t joining us.”

“Why didn’t Susan want to join us?”

I shook my head as my chin dipped to my chest. “No interest.”

“Susan will come around, Rick. Just keep loving her.”

“I do love her. That was never a problem.”

“The actions have to align with what comes out of your mouth,” he replied.

“I know,” I replied, looking out the side window of the office. Spotting a tree outside, I noticed a bird landing on it. “The problem is that I don’t know how to get back to where we were.”

“Get right with God.”

“I’m going to church again,” I replied.

“Are you reading your Bible and praying?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What are you reading?”

“The Bible. We just went over this.”

“I mean what book?”

“Proverbs.”

“I see.” The pastor shuffled a few papers around on his desk like he was looking for something. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to me. It was blank. He gave me a pen next.

“What do you want me to write?” I asked.

“Write down the most important things to your wife.”

“You’d have to ask her that question,” I replied, setting the pen down.

“You don’t know?” The pastor asked.

“I don’t see what the point of this is.” I pushed the pen and paper toward him and crossed my arms. “Just tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

Shaking his head, he said, “This isn’t a matter of
fixing.
You have to give your wife what she needs. Can you list her needs?”

“Well . . .” I said, looking at the piece of paper. “I know she needs love.”

“Get more specific.”

I sighed heavily. “Why do these women have to be so complicated?”

“Wouldn’t it be boring if they weren’t complex?” he asked. “Thinking on a deeper level isn’t something that comes naturally to many of us men. But we force ourselves to think deeply when we care deeply. Do you remember when you led that Sunday school class years ago?”

“Yeah.”

“How much time did you prepare for lessons?”

Thinking back that long ago almost hurt, but I was able to recall the late nights of studying the scripture and cross referencing with different passages. “Lots of time.”

“What do you think all that time did for your lessons?”

“Made them better.”

“Why?”

“I was prepared and knew the scripture and study inside out.”

“Exactly. Your marriage, your wife, needs that same attention to detail.”

I laughed. “I’ve been with the woman for over three decades. I know her inside and out.”

“Then why are you here?” he asked in a soft and respectful tone.

“Okay. Gotcha.”

Pastor Conner leaned across his desk and said, “View it like a task. Like a lesson you’re preparing for. You’ve got to study her.”

“How?”

“Well. She’s been out of the house for how long?” he asked.

“Couple of weeks.”

“What does she do? Where does she go? What’s taking up her time?” he asked.

“I don’t know outside of bridge club. I know she goes for walks. I don’t think she wants me to stalk her.”

“I’m not asking you to stalk her, just pay attention and see what she is spending her time on. It’s not stalking. It’s studying,” Pastor Conner said.

“Okay.”

We talked for a little while longer and then our session was done. He’d provided me with some decent advice, which was pretty impressive in my eyes. I thought I knew everything about my wife, but I realized it was only on a certain level. It was a hard pill to swallow to accept that I didn’t know everything about her after thirty years. It was required, though, especially if I wanted to make things right between us and become reconciled.

Around lunch time later that day, I was eating a sandwich when I saw Susan walking out of the guest house. She headed toward the side of the house to leave.
Here’s my chance
, I thought to myself, setting my sandwich down on the plate. I rose to my feet and went to the living room. Pushing the curtain back slightly with a finger, I watched her pass her car and head down the sidewalk. I waited a moment for her to be out of sight and then slipped out the front door to follow her.

Keeping my distance, I followed as I watched my wife walk. I felt a bit creepy following her, and even a little bad, but I wanted so desperately to know her more. My heart yearned to know her, to see her, to understand her.

I followed her to the park that was up about eight blocks from our house. She cut through the grass to a playground with a bench. She sat down. Coming up to the tree behind her, I noticed the leaves were beginning to turn from greens to yellows and oranges. She turned, and I hid myself behind the tree. I could feel my pulse race. Peeking around the tree, I saw that she was reading a paperback book. I pushed my feet up on my tiptoes from beside the tree to catch a glimpse of the cover. There was no seeing it fully from that far away, so I inched closer. Suddenly, she looked back quickly.

“Rick!” she shouted. “You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” I said. I walked around the bench; she watched as I sat down beside her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Just wondering what you do when you go for walks.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?” she asked in a long, drawn out tone.

Shrugging, I turned my eyes to the playground as I spoke. “I care about you. I wondered what you do when you go for walks.”

She closed her book and set it down on the bench. I caught the cover this time. It was Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. “You need to let me go. You can’t follow me like this.”

“I’m just trying to get to know you again.”

“Rick,” she said, setting a hand on top my mine. I looked at her. “We know more about each other than one person ought to know about another human being. We’ve been together for a long time.”

“I thought that, too.” My eyes looked down at the book on the bench again. “But I didn’t even know you came here to read. Or what you did on walks. You’ve gone on walks for years.” Looking back at the playground, I saw a kid go down the slide. “I want to know you.”

“Why?”

“I want to make
us
work.” Looking over at her, I said, “I didn’t tell you yet, but I’m retiring.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Early retirement?”

“Yeah. They’re giving me early retirement because of the budget cuts. That’s what we were really doing the petition and rally for. I didn’t have the heart to tell you. I thought I was possibly losing my pension. I didn’t want to add stress to you. It turns out, though, that if I retire early, I can still get it in full and they won’t have to cut more guys at the station.” My eyes turned back to the playground. I didn’t look at her as I could feel my eyes well with tears.

“Oh. More lies.” She sighed.

“C’mon, Susan!” I replied. “I didn’t know what the outcome was going to be. I had to wait until I
knew
. It’s not the same.”

“Okay.” She seemed to accept it. “So all that work canvassing didn’t do anything?” she asked.

Shaking my head, I looked down at the cement. “No . . . doesn’t appear that it did.”

Susan placed a hand on my back and said, “You did a good job trying, though.”

“Thanks,” I replied, looking over at her with a forced smile. She must have realized she was touching me and regretted it, because she retracted her hand the very next moment.

“I’m going back to reading, Rick, so you can go about whatever it is you do with your free time now.” She picked up the book and opened it.

“Okay.” I stood up and left the park. As I walked through the grass, I thought about the book she had with her—
Redeeming Love
. What was that about? I hadn’t ever heard of the book, but the pages and book cover looked worn. She must have owned it for quite some time. When I got back to the house, I looked the book up online and read the description.

My desire to learn more about my wife drove me to purchase a copy to read. With Susan being distant with me, I hoped reading what she was reading would be common ground we could connect on.

I downloaded my copy to my tablet and made myself comfortable on the couch with a cup of coffee. My excitement to read quieted as I dug deeper into the story. It was depressing and disturbed me as I read about the prostitute, Angel. About a quarter of the way into the book, I set my tablet down on the coffee table and went to shower.

When I came back out into the living room—at about eight thirty that evening—I was surprised to see Susan on the couch with my tablet.

“What are you doing?” I asked, coming up behind the couch from the kitchen.

She set the tablet down and looked back at me. “Why are you reading this?”

“I saw you reading it in the park. I was interested. Why are you in here?” I asked.

“My photos from when Beth and the kids were here were on the tablet. I wanted to upload them before I forgot again.” She stood up. “If you’re trying to impress me by reading a book I like, it won’t work.” She walked around the couch as I finished toweling off my head. Wearing only my pajama pants, I stood there looking blankly at her.

“I wasn’t trying to impress you. I’m just interested. It looked like you have read the book multiple times.”

I saw her eyes wander away from mine, and I’m pretty sure I saw her catch a glimpse of my shirtless chest. But that could have been my male ego playing tricks on me. I missed her so much—I missed us.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, leaving through the doors that led out to the deck. As the doors shut, the silence of the house returned. I watched as she went out to the guest house. Hurrying across the kitchen floor, I opened the door.

“Hey,” I called out to her.

“What?” she asked as she turned toward me.

“Does it get better?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a sad look on her face.

Confused, I said, “What do you mean? Isn’t it your favorite book?”

“Oh.” She went flush. “Yes. It gets better,” she said with a quick response. Hastily, she went inside and shut the door behind her. I grinned as I closed the doors and returned to the living room to continue reading.