Composing Amelia (11 page)

The bottom line was that, of the two of them, Marcus was certainly the most spiritually mature. Amelia had come to the faith only three years ago, and while he didn’t doubt her sincerity, he did sometimes wonder about her growth. Was her faith sound enough for her to be able to discern what God was telling her? Wasn’t it his job, as the more knowledgeable, the more seasoned Christian in the relationship to make the final call?

A smile of relief spread over his face. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that God had kept Amelia from conceding simply to help him reach this new understanding. An intoxicating warmth pulsed through him as he set about completing his email. With every word Marcus felt more sure, more settled with his verdict, and a weight lifted from his shoulders as his fingers tapped the keys to tell the elder that he would be thrilled to accept the position.

Amelia woke from her nap when Marcus returned from his afternoon tutoring appointments. With the community center classes canceled for the holidays, she’d been taking advantage of the extra time to catch up on her sleep and leisure activities—mainly more sleep—and she’d been doubly sure to get a nap in that afternoon in preparation for the church’s New Year’s Eve party at Venice Beach.

She rolled herself upright and ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. “Hey, babe. How was tutoring?”

“Oh—fine.” Marcus nodded to the couch. “Come sit with me?”

She smiled in anticipation. “Why, sure.” He kissed her when she sat down, then gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “I need to tell you something.”

This wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Oh. Okay. Is everything all right?”

He smiled, but she could see hesitation in his eyes. “Yes. Everything is—great.” He paused, taking hold of her hands. “I’ve been really thinking about this job.”

“Mm-hm.” She tried not to smile prematurely. Surely he was finally giving this thing up.

“And I started thinking about how my parents handle these kinds of impasses, in light of the whole ‘inaction until unity’ concept.”

Suddenly she wasn’t so confident, especially since his voice was taking on that lecturing tone he used when he was about to slip into preacher mode. “Okay.”

“And I think that, in situations like this, that are this important, it falls to the husband to make an executive decision, especially when the husband is the more spiritually mature of the two.”

Now she knew she didn’t like where this was going. She pulled her hands from his. “This isn’t a dictatorship. You don’t get to order me around just because you’ve been a Christian longer.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly, eyes wide. “I’m just saying that we have to reach a decision eventually, and I’m just not confident that you’re willing to listen to God over this because you’re so against it.”

Her muscles went rigid. She was embarrassed by his assessment, because in her heart of hearts she knew he was right. But she wasn’t about to admit it and risk losing her job. “How dare you.”

He blinked. “I didn’t mean to—”

“How dare you judge me like that.” She stood and crossed to the other side of the coffee table. “You’ve always said marriage was a partnership, that we each had an equal say in everything. And you think you can just change that to suit your own situation?”

“I think we need to be open to growing in how we interpret and understand biblical—”

She laughed. “Spare me. How convenient you’d grow just now, huh?”

“Amelia—”

She held up her hand. “Don’t even talk to me.” She stared at him, every muscle twitching. “If you think for a second you can just waltz in here and tell me how it’s going to be, you’re wrong.”

Marcus opened his mouth, then closed it again. She could see his jaw sliding sideways and back.
How dare he be angry.

She crossed the room and grabbed her jacket from the hook near the front door. “For your sake, I’m going for a walk. I suggest we pretend this never happened when I get home.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said quietly. “I’ve already accepted the job.”

Her chest constricted and she lost her breath. The betrayal was physically painful. What happened to the support? To the dependability? When she found her voice she said the first thing on her mind, knowing she meant every word. “Then you’re going alone. I’ll research divorce tomorrow.” And with that, she shut the door behind her and headed for the street.

Amelia didn’t head back to the apartment until after nightfall. Marcus had phoned and texted a dozen times, and she’d erased every message without listening or reading. After walking aimlessly for half an hour she’d headed for a piano dealer she passed on her way to the deli every morning. After perusing the shop long enough to warm her hands, she asked if she could play the glossy black Bösendorfer that sat in the front window. She’d started with the “Lento” from “Marche funèbre,”
part of Chopin’s
Sonata no. 2 in B-flat Minor,
then revisited Tori Amos’s “Precious Things,” mourning that she’d been driven to play the angry song twice in such a short period of time. She never would have thought Marcus would wound her that deeply. It wasn’t until the manager told her the shop was closing that she’d realized it was nearly seven o’clock. She’d returned to the street, where shops were all closing early for the holiday, and slowly made her way back to the apartment, deleting Marcus’s attempts at communication every time she heard her cell beep.

When she walked into the apartment Marcus jumped from the couch like he’d been bit. “There you are.” He ran a hand over his face. “Why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been worried about you.”

“So sorry,” she said with plenty of sarcasm. She passed him without so much as a glance and opened the closet to find an outfit for the party.

Marcus came up behind her. She tensed in anticipation of his touch, but it never came. She was glad. “Amelia, look, I’m sorry if you were hurt by what I said. You have to know that wasn’t my intention. But if God is telling me to take this job, then what choice do I have but to assume you’re shutting Him out rather than letting Him change your mind?”

She pulled a butter-yellow poor-boy sweater and brown tweed jacket from the closet and tossed them on the bed, careful to avoid Marcus’s eyes as she turned. Ignoring him, she changed clothes and then reapplied her makeup and brushed her hair. He stood watching her the entire time, saying nothing, and the ball of tension in her stomach grew tighter with every second that she thought over what he had just said. Now she knew firsthand why so many people hated Christians. Thanks to Marcus and Jill she was beginning to rethink her decision to call herself one.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?”

Amelia could hear the strain in his voice and wanted to hit him for being mad. He had no reason, none whatsoever, to be anything but a groveling mess of guilt and remorse. She said nothing, moving to the kitchen to fix a snack before leaving for the party. Though the more she thought about it, the less sure she was she wanted to spend the evening with people from church. They were probably all just as two-faced as Jill and Marcus.

“Amelia, come on.”

She bit her sandwich, poured a glass of milk.

“This is ridiculous. You can yell at me all you want, I’m okay with that, just … do
something.
”

She took her plate and glass to the table and sat down, staring out the window and clinging to her spite to stop herself from giving him what he wanted. He sat down across from her and stared at her as though he could subdue her by the sheer force of his thoughts. “Look.” His voice was calm, though she heard the irritation behind it and was pleased to know she’d finally shaken Mr. Even Keel. “I know this is painful. I know it means giving up the theater job. I know you see it as a step backward for your career. But do you not trust God to take care of you in Nebraska? Do you think He’s incapable of bringing you opportunities? It’s not a third-world country we’re moving to, you know. There are musicians there too. We’ll start looking for jobs tomorrow, since we both have the day off. We’ll get you a whole list of them to work off of.”

This was his best offer?
Please
. She ate her last bite, swallowed the last of her milk, and checked her watch. Only then, as she stood to leave for the party, did she respond. “There’s no need. I’m not going.” She pulled gloves and earmuffs from a basket on the floor by the door and pocketed her phone and keys. “Don’t wait up.” Without waiting to see if he planned on joining her, Amelia left for the bus stop, wishing she was going to a party with spiked punch and hoping the new year would start better than this one was ending.

“Amelia!”

Amelia groaned inside as Jill’s voice rose above the din of the crowd around the bonfire. It had been easier to avoid a serious conversation with Jill at the community supper because there had been so many people crammed in their apartment, but out here with everyone spread out on the beach, Amelia knew she wouldn’t be so lucky. And she’d had so much on her mind she hadn’t given any thought to how to respond when, and if, Jill finally apologized.

Jill reached Amelia’s side, and the look on her face told Amelia she was contrite. “I’m so glad you came. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

Amelia shrugged. “Not a lot of other options.”

“Yeah, but still. I’m glad you came. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you; didn’t you get my messages?”

Amelia nodded. They’d all met the same fate Marcus’s messages had that afternoon. “I did, yeah. Just … didn’t feel like responding.”

Jill nodded. “I know. I understand. And I’m really sorry. I really wasn’t trying to say you weren’t a Christian. I can’t see your heart; only God can do that, and it’s all between Him and you anyway. It’s none of my business. Do you forgive me?”

Amelia swirled her Styrofoam cup of lukewarm hot chocolate. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

Jill smiled. “Thanks. I really mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Jill glanced around. “I still haven’t seen Marcus. Did he come? Dane saw you first and was all psyched you guys were here.”

“No, he’s not here. And I don’t know if he’s coming.” Normally she’d have called Jill to vent and cry the second she left the apartment, but obviously she hadn’t wanted to do that. But even now that Jill had apologized, Amelia felt weird telling her what had happened. “We … We had a fight.”

Jill frowned. “Oh no. What happened?”

“He took the job in Nebraska, even though he promised not to if I didn’t want to go.”

Jill’s face registered the appropriate shock and Amelia felt a little safer. “Are you serious? That doesn’t sound like Marcus.”

“It gets better. He tried to use the ‘I’m the man, it’s my call’ card.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. What did
you
say?”

“I told him I wasn’t going.” She left out the part about divorce, knowing Jill would overreact. “I have a job, he made a promise, it’s that simple.”

“What did he say?”

Amelia drained the rest of her hot chocolate and wandered toward the trash can as Jill fell in beside her. Marcus’s actual words had left her, but the gist of them had left their mark. “That his job was more important than mine. That he knew God better than I did. That I didn’t have any faith.”

Jill’s mouth hung open. “He said all that? Marcus?”

“Not those exact words, no, but that’s what he meant. If he keeps this up I’ll be glad to see him leave.”

“But … he wouldn’t really leave without you, would he? And you wouldn’t really let him go—right?”

Amelia took a slow breath, sensing Jill’s support was not going to extend as far as Amelia had hoped. “I’m not the boss of him. If he wants to leave, he can leave, that’s his choice. But I’m not going to chase him and beg him to stay, and I’m sure as heck not going to follow along behind him like a will-less Stepford wife. If he breaks his promise and decides to go, then I’ll be glad I saw this side of him six months into our marriage instead of six years.”

“Amelia, what are you saying?”

“Hey, guys.” They turned in tandem to see Dane and Marcus approaching. Amelia was stunned that he’d even decided to come, and could tell by the look on Dane’s face that Marcus had already shared his side of the story. Marcus’s face told her nothing had changed for him, and she bristled, crossing her arms and squaring her stance in the sand, preparing herself for a face-off.