War Room (15 page)

Rather than hate the miles he put on his Tahoe, Tony enjoyed the driving. He had time to think, time to process what was happening in his life. He listened to sports radio in the morning to catch up on the latest. He loved turning his music up loud when he got tired and his eyes felt droopy. The coffee at various shops along the road helped too. He even listened to self-help audio that encouraged him to reach for the heights and be who he wanted to be. He could take a seminar driving from one location to the next simply by listening to speakers talk about how to seal a deal, how to be positive and cultivate contacts and look people in the eye. There were even spiritual motivators who talked a little about God wanting the best for every person. These all made him feel better inside. There were so many ways a person could improve himself
 
—all at the touch of a button.

What he couldn’t improve was his marriage. That was a given. There was nothing that could repair the brokenness.
And he knew what would happen when he got home. Elizabeth would ask questions and make him feel like he needed to leave again. There was nothing worse than coming home to a place you wanted to leave.

For some reason, he hadn’t been able to call Veronica back. He didn’t know why, just something inside that told him to wait. Maybe the way she had moved toward him and invited him to her apartment made him think this wasn’t the first time she had done something like that with a guy who had shown an interest. Tony wasn’t looking for someone who was “easy.” He was looking for . . . well, he wasn’t sure. Someone who wouldn’t argue so much. Someone who would smile at him for a change. A woman who would help him become the person he wanted to be, the father he wanted to be, without all the drama and nagging.

He pulled up to the house and saw Danielle’s jump rope hanging on the porch. At first it would hurt her to see her dad with another woman, but kids were resilient. Tony had turned out okay after his parents split up. Danielle would too, with enough time and explaining.

Tony hit the garage door opener, and as he waited, he thought about a man who had helped him early in his sales career. Gary was a friend at Brightwell who taught him how to deal with some difficult situations. Tony had been about to lose an account, and to compensate, he’d immediately lined up a dozen other possible ones.

“I know how bad you’re feeling,” Gary had said. “You’re
frustrated, upset, and worried. And you’re overcompensating. You’re trying to prove to everybody you can do this.”

“I’m trying to keep my job,” Tony said.

“Let me give you some advice,” Gary said. “A client kept is gold.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I’m sure you do, but knowing it and achieving it are different things. Spend your energy trying to keep an account rather than trying to generate ten more.”

“There’s no hope. They’ve made their decision.”

“Are you sure?” Gary leaned closer. “Show some humility. Show them you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

“You mean beg? Crawl in there on my hands and knees?”

“Tony, you can walk away from a client when you know you’ve done nothing wrong. Tell yourself they don’t appreciate you. Another client will treat you better. But the truth is, the client you have now, with all their faults and hang-ups, is the one you need to work on. Bring them back.”

Tony pulled into the garage and turned off the car, remembering that Gary had called the company
 
—it had been his own account long before. He’d put in a good word for Tony and asked for another chance, and the company had somehow agreed. Tony took Gary’s advice and showed them he was willing to work hard to keep their business. That was simply being a good salesman.

He wasn’t sure why that memory surfaced as he returned, but as he pushed the garage door button on the wall, he took a deep breath and prepared for another fight.

When he walked in, Elizabeth and Danielle were fixing sandwiches and talking about some new journal Elizabeth had ordered for Danielle. Tony put down his satchel and draped his jacket on the counter.

“Hey, Daddy,” Danielle said.

“Hey, Danielle,” Tony said.

“I didn’t think you were coming home until tonight,” Elizabeth said.

“Yeah. I finished up everything pretty early.” He looked at the food she was preparing and his stomach growled. He hadn’t been able to eat much in the past two days, but his appetite was suddenly back. “You got enough for me?”

“Sure. Jennifer’s mom is picking Danielle up in a few minutes, but you and I can eat.”

No argument. No yelling or shouting or shaming. Just an invitation.

“All right. I’ll take my stuff to our room,” Tony said.

He tossed his suitcase on the bed and threw his jacket on the ottoman. Elizabeth had made the bed, like she always did. Everything was neat and tidy
 
—but there was something different. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in the room had changed.

Elizabeth’s cell phone dinged on the dresser. From the living room came the ring of the doorbell and Danielle ran to get it. Who was picking her up? One of her friends from jump rope
 
—started with a
J
.

He took off his tie and dropped it on the bed. Then his curiosity got the best of him and he walked to the dresser.
From the living room came the sounds of Elizabeth and the mom of Danielle’s friend. What was her name? He picked up Elizabeth’s phone and stared at the message on the screen. It was from someone named Missy . . . the name sounded vaguely familiar to him. Someone from college, maybe? The first message in the thread was from two nights earlier.

Liz, this is Missy. I’m in Raleigh. Just saw Tony in a restaurant with a woman I didn’t recognize. Somebody you know?

His heart sank and he felt his stomach clench.

Elizabeth had responded:
Are you serious?

Missy:
I wouldn’t lie to you.

Elizabeth:
I’m sure it’s just a client.

Missy:
Looked pretty friendly.

Elizabeth:
I can only hope it’s nothing.

Missy:
I’ll keep you posted.

Elizabeth:
Thanks, girlfriend!

Tony scrolled down and saw the message that had just arrived.

Liz, did you find out about the woman Tony was with in Raleigh?

It felt like a punch to his gut and he wondered if he’d repeat the episode in the restaurant bathroom. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Elizabeth knew about Veronica. Though she probably didn’t know her name, she knew he’d had dinner with some female. But she hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t asked about it. What was up with that? Did she really think it was just a business
meeting or was she waiting to pounce on him? He’d heard horror stories about wives who did terrible things to husbands. Maybe she was waiting to confirm things so she could put a plan in place for revenge.

Maybe she already had a plan.

The front door closed and he casually walked into the kitchen. Pretended he knew nothing about what she knew. Elizabeth was finishing fixing his meal.

“So what’s been going on here?”

“Well, I sold another house yesterday. And I already told you about getting held up, so . . .”

Here it came. She was going to hold that over him
 
—he was sure about it. “Yeah, look, about that. It’s not that I didn’t care. I was just busy, so when I knew you were all right . . .”

“I understand,” she said, putting the plates on the table. “I’m sorry for getting so worked up about it.”

Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She had apologized to him when he was the one who had been insensitive. And the part about being “busy” . . . that was because of Veronica.

“You’re sorry?” Tony said.

“Yeah, I knew you were at work. Probably in a meeting. I should have just waited till later to bring it up.” She turned to pour some tea for them.

This was not right. Something was definitely off. Tony took her plate and switched it with his own.

“My mind was just racing, and I took it out on you.
But you know what? I think it was really good for Danielle. I think it helped her realize how important it is to be aware of who’s around you.”

She came to the table and put the tea glasses down. He tried to smile at her, but his own mind was racing. Had some alien taken over his wife’s body? Was she pretending everything was okay until he was comfortable? She had conveniently gotten Danielle out of the house.

“Hot sauce?” Elizabeth said.

He checked the counter and saw all the knives were still in place. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“You want mild or Wrath of God?” she said.

“I don’t want Wrath of God. Let me have the other one.”

Elizabeth returned and sat, spreading a napkin in her lap. It was clear now what she was doing. She was baiting him. Acting all nice and pleasant and getting him food and pretending everything was fine. Even apologizing. He was on to her game and ready for the stab.

Finally he shook his head. “What do you want, Liz?”

She pretended to not understand. She had gotten good at it. He almost believed her response.

“You mean, right now?” she said.

“Yeah.”

She thought a moment. “Well, I would kill for a hot fudge sundae. Just fudge everywhere.” She waved a hand in a circular motion. “And two scoops of ice cream, cookies and cream. Just mounds of whipped cream on top. And one cherry.”

He stared at her, not believing what he was hearing. She was going on about a sundae when he knew she was planning something horrific for him.

“And my feet are killing me,” she continued. “Man, I would love a foot rub.” She stared at the table as if imagining what that would be like.

Tony shook his head. “Liz, I’m not rubbing your feet.”

“Okay,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, you want to pray?”

Pray?
he thought. They hadn’t prayed before a meal since . . . he couldn’t remember when. But he would roll with the charade. He bowed his head and awkwardly said, “God, we thank You for this food and for taking care of our family. Amen.”

He looked up, waiting for Elizabeth to bare her teeth or brandish some weapon or scream at him about Veronica. Instead she picked up her sandwich and dug in.

“I’m starving,” she said.

Tony watched her a second before picking up his own sandwich and gingerly trying a bite. He guessed it was safe, unless she had assumed he would switch plates. No, that was crazy.

“What’s the journal thing you and Danielle were talking about?”

Elizabeth smiled. “It’s so cute. I’ve started a prayer journal with the help of one of my clients
 
—Miss Clara. Tony, you have to meet her. Anyway, Danielle saw it and started asking questions and one thing led to another and
we had this spiritual conversation about God and whether He answers prayer. I ordered a journal for her so she could write in her requests and favorite verses. She was as excited about it as some expensive birthday present.”

“Is that so?”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin, the look on her face like sunshine coming over the mountains. “I’m beginning to see who she’s going to be, who she’s becoming. You know? I always thought of her as our little girl, that she’s going to stay that way forever, and I know out there in the future she’s going to grow up and have a family of her own. But that has felt so far away. Having that conversation with her made me realize it’s not. It’s coming soon.”

“I’ve heard they grow up fast.”

“It’s going to be like a rocket lifting off. And I’m so grateful we have her. And for the way you provide for us. I know I haven’t said that in a long time.”

Tony stared at Elizabeth. There had to be a hidden microphone
 
—she was going to trap him into saying something and use the audio in court during the divorce hearing. Or maybe there was a sniper outside on the back deck who was waiting for the signal to pull the trigger.

“Tony, you okay?” Elizabeth said.

He picked up his sandwich again. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Tony watched her eat, trying to figure out what had happened to his wife.

Clara didn’t want to say anything
to Elizabeth that would discourage her. It was clear she was flying high with victory about her daughter and her own spiritual progress. But when the two of them were sitting at that table with hands clasped and Elizabeth began to pray for her husband, Clara had gotten the distinct impression that God was about to do something, and she could never predict what hard thing He was going to do.

Clara didn’t live on feelings because they ebbed and flowed. She had decided to keep the train of her life on the parallel tracks of faith in God and loving others. The enemy tried to push her off the tracks every day and it
was her job to trust God, to believe He was good and was working, and then to act on that belief by loving others.

If she’d said it once, she’d said it a thousand times. “People let their feelings push them away from God or away from believing that their life makes a difference. They think that because they don’t see God working the way they think He should work, He’s not there. Or they think He doesn’t care and they get discouraged.”

When Elizabeth left that day, Clara had climbed the steps that led to her war room. She felt every year with every step and couldn’t wait to have a war room on the same floor as her kitchen. But as she climbed, the impression she’d gotten about Elizabeth and Tony grew into a rock-ribbed belief that God was working for their ultimate good. She hit her knees and flew down those twin tracks with her prayers, asking God to change hearts.