Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (22 page)

 41 

O
ver the next two weeks, Jim followed this new strategy with Marilyn. Not reacting to things she did or said. Instead, he looked for tangible ways to care and serve her. Gaining control over his emotions and fears took a mammoth effort. And it was clear, even with all the changes he had begun to make, she still didn’t trust him and still wouldn’t talk with him.

Things had improved a bit with Michele, however. She rarely spoke harshly to him anymore. And a few times, she actually confided in him, sharing observations about how his efforts to win her mother’s heart were being perceived. Just yesterday, she’d said, “I think Mom sees the effort, but right now she’s not buying it. But I noticed when you dropped her car back off, how nice it looked and that you’d filled the gas tank up.”

“Besides the gas, I had it detailed at the car wash,” Jim had said.

“It looked great. When I asked Mom what she thought about it, she said, ‘That was nice, but it doesn’t change anything. I think it’s just a new tactic your father’s working to try and
manipulate me.’ But see,” Michele said, “she started off with, ‘That was nice.’ I see that as progress.”

Jim had focused more on “it doesn’t change anything” and “it’s just a tactic,” so he didn’t quite share Michele’s enthusiasm about the so-called progress. But the fact that Michele had shared these things with him—in confidence—was itself progress, and he tried to be grateful for that.

He was also grateful for the changes he was starting to see in his own heart. He’d been praying for God to change his heart every morning. The fury and boiling anger was gone. The chronic and dark imaginations he used to have about her almost every day had greatly diminished. He was sure he still had a long way to go, but even this much progress had produced in him a measure of hope.

Jim had two more dance lessons with Audrey over the past two weeks, which meant there was only one left. He was encouraged with the strides he was making there, and so was she. Except for an occasional misstep, Jim could now waltz Audrey around the room, spinning and swirling her at all the right places, keeping perfect time with the music and just the right space between them.

At the end of the last lesson, she informed him of one significant problem he still must overcome. “When you dance, your face looks like it’s in pain. Or else, I see your lips moving, counting off the steps. It’s time for you to start learning how to listen with your heart, not your head.”

When Jim had asked what that meant, she said, “You need to hear the music, down inside. Let it permeate your being until you feel the steps. Maybe it will help if you close your eyes. Let the music take hold and allow the joy of what you’re doing to take over.”

It had all sounded like hogwash to Jim, but he tried to do what she’d said, and it worked. In no time at all, he was dancing with real feeling, and real joy was the result. It was as if his hands and legs now knew what to do and all he had to do was turn them loose and let them go.

“Now you’re getting it,” she’d said when they were done. “And now I want to share with you the marriage life lesson that goes with this fifth dance step.” She spent the next fifteen minutes talking about Jim’s need to listen to Marilyn’s heart, not just the words she said.

Jim had admitted he wasn’t good at this and admitted that when Marilyn said things he didn’t agree with, he typically reacted by trying to straighten her out. “As far as communication goes,” Audrey had said, “that’s the equivalent of you dancing with your face all scrunched up, mouthing the steps as you go.” She explained he needed to move beyond the words Marilyn spoke and learn to listen for the feelings and emotions behind her words. “Why did she really say that? What’s really eating at her? Those are the kinds of questions you need to ask yourself as you listen.” The fog was beginning to lift. “Instead of knee-jerk overreactions,” she said, “which is what you’re used to doing, do the very opposite. Don’t try to fix her. Just ask her more questions. All the while listening to her heart.”

“How will I know when I’ve made that connection?” he’d asked.

“You’ll know.”

As he drove home that night, he felt more encouraged than before, but mostly about how well the dancing part of the lesson had gone. He still struggled to believe that all these “life lessons” were really going to amount to much with Marilyn. How could they? She still wouldn’t even talk to him.

His discouragement with his marriage situation worsened when he gave in to the temptation to drive by the dance studio the following night. He knew no good would come of it. It was Tuesday evening, a little after nine o’clock. As before, the drapes across the front windows were closed, which only made Jim more suspicious. On Thursdays, when she danced with the whole group, the curtains were pulled to the side, allowing everyone on the sidewalk and street to see the entire dance floor.

Why were they closed now? Why only when Roberto and Marilyn danced alone? Jim didn’t want to look like a pervert peeking through the cracks. So he sat across the street, two cars down, and looked at his digital clock. They should be done in about ten minutes, based on things he’d found out from Michele. Maybe he should wait here till the lights went out, see where she went after.

He wanted to but then changed his mind. What if she looked across the street and saw his car. Then she’d know he was spying on her. That might set things back to square one between them. He couldn’t bear that. Turning on the car, he looked both ways and headed out into the street.

Please Lord, let her go home alone tonight
.

 42 

T
he following Saturday night, Jim did something different. He called Michele and asked if he could visit her church in Lakeland.

“You want to do what?”

He repeated the question. “I’d like to go to church with you and Allan tomorrow. I’ll drive over to Lakeland. Then take you guys out for lunch after. What time’s it start?”

“Ten, but . . . are you sure?”

“I’ve been wanting to visit your church for years. Now seems like a good time. This past week I resigned my membership at our old church. For the most part, you were right about the people there. It was time to move on.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Michele said. “But sure, I’d be happy to have you come to our church. Only Allan won’t be with us.” She sounded a little annoyed.

“Oh? Why not?”

“Our church has another ten-day mission trip to Africa scheduled this week. Allan had agreed not to go, since it’s only two weeks till our wedding. One of the key guys got sick and had
to bail out at the last minute. They asked Allan to step in, because he’d been there before and his passport was up to date. Of course, he instantly said yes . . . without talking to me.”

Jim liked Allan but did find him a bit impetuous and idealistic, especially about these mission trips. He was all about saving the world for Christ. Which, for the most part, Jim considered a good thing. But Allan wasn’t a single guy anymore. “So he’s left you to handle all the final wedding details on your own?”

“Pretty much,” she said. “But Mom’s been a great help. And I’m really glad he cares about things like this. It’s just not the best timing.”

“Well, I’ll keep you company at church and still take you out after. You pick the place.”

“Great, Dad, I’d like that.”

“And Michele, could you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Could you bring along a wedding invitation and an envelope, and one of those little reception cards?”

“I guess. Who’s it for?”

“I’ll explain over lunch.”

Jim had a great experience at Michele’s church. A younger pastor than he was used to, a younger congregation on the whole, a nice building but no frills. He hadn’t been in church for several weeks, and the message was very encouraging. He especially enjoyed sitting next to Michele; that hadn’t happened in a church in years. Throughout the service, she kept checking on him. He’d give her a nod and an “I’m okay” smile.

The preacher finished his message, they sang a closing song, and as Jim and Michele made their way out the door, she had
introduced him to over a dozen friends. All of them seemed very nice and all had asked her about Allan, how he was doing in Africa.

Once they got to the parking lot, Michele suggested they eat at a nearby Applebee’s. “If we go there now, we might beat the rush.”

Jim followed her in his car so he could head home right after. During the lunch, Jim worked hard to apply some of the new communication things Audrey had taught him. He never realized how hard it was to just sit there and listen, to be the one asking questions, the one taking an interest in the other person. She’d barely get two words out, and he’d feel this almost overpowering urge to interrupt her and either adjust something she’d said or talk about himself.

But he didn’t.

He also did his best to stifle every curious question he wanted to ask about Marilyn. Secretly, he hoped Michele would bring up the subject, but she never did. Instead whenever she talked about her mom it was regarding things Marilyn thought about Michele’s wedding or reception, which were less than two weeks away.

Michele finished talking about the reception plans. As she did, she thanked him three different times for being willing to do the father-daughter dance. Jim saw an opportunity to ask her about something he’d spoken about on the phone last night.

“Say, Michele, did you bring the wedding invitation I asked you about?”

“I did.” She reached for her purse. “And the little reception card. It’s right there in the middle,” she said, handing it to him.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“So . . . who you planning to invite?”

He wasn’t sure, but her look seemed more like concern than curiosity. “Somebody I don’t think you know.”

“Not from the old church, right? None of the crossed-off names?”

“No one from the old church.” He wasn’t sure any of them would come now even if they were invited.

“Then who?”

“It’s just . . . this woman I met.”

“What?”

He suddenly realized how that sounded. But he didn’t want to tell her who it was, or she’d know he was taking dance lessons. How else would he know someone like Audrey Windsor?

“Dad, you’re not bringing some woman you’re seeing to my wedding.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I would never do that to you or your mother.”

“Then who is she?”

A month ago, Jim would have felt compelled to say, “It’s none of your business. I’m the one paying for this wedding.” Instead he said, “She’s this nice elderly lady I met about a month ago. She’s been very kind to me, and I wanted to thank her by inviting her to the wedding. But I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“That sounds okay. Does Mom know her?”

“I think she does, but please, Michele. Don’t mention this to your mom. Would you promise me that?”

A puzzled look came over her face. “All right. I guess it’s no big deal.”

“It’s really not,” Jim said.

The following night was Jim’s last dance class with Audrey. He showed up on time. They small-talked as he put on his shoes, then they just danced. Audrey had lined up a number of great waltz songs, so they could just keep dancing one after the other. Jim was amazed again at her energy and stamina. By this point, it was fair to say he was thoroughly enjoying himself. A man set free from a lifelong fear. He couldn’t dance as well as he played golf, but he definitely had shed all his resistance and most of his inhibitions. Secretly, he wished there was a way to keep this going after tonight.

While they danced, Audrey shared with Jim her last marriage life lesson. As with the other lessons, she used the metaphor of dance. It was a simple idea. “Marriage and good dancing both require the same thing—teamwork,” she said. “This kind of dancing, anyway. The classic dances. Obviously, some people like to be out there on the floor doing their own thing, much more mindful of who’s watching them than being focused on their partner. But for classic dancing like we’re doing here, it takes a team.”

Jim wanted to add that he was no longer part of a team, but Audrey had gently corrected him every time he’d say something like that. “Have faith,” she’d say. “God hasn’t given up, so don’t you give up.”

As he stepped to the side and spun her gently around the corner of the room, she added, “For a team to be successful, you need to adopt a ‘No Losers Policy.’ It’s very simple. When you and Marilyn finally get back together and she starts talking to you again, you need to stop trying to get her to see your point of view all the time. Conversation is not about you winning or being right and her being wrong or vice versa. On a team, there’s no such thing as that. Either you both win or you both lose. The
goal is to arrive there together, to come up with a solution you both feel happy about.”

This sounded nice, but Jim had some problems with it. They were at the other end of the room by now. “But Audrey, it’s pretty clear in the Bible . . . the husband is the head of the house. Sounds a little bit like you’re contradicting that.”

Audrey smiled as they spun around the corner again. “Is Jesus the head of the church?”

“Yes.”

“Did he wash his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper?”

“Yes. I guess he did.”

“What kind of a head does that? Here’s another question. Didn’t he say he came not to be served but to serve?”

“Yes.”

“You know that chapter in Ephesians where Paul talks about the husband being the head of his wife?”

Jim nodded.

“In my Bible,” Audrey said, “in that same passage, Paul also said a husband must love his wife like Christ loved the church . . . and gave himself up for her.”

Jim didn’t know what to say. Seems like she had him.

“That’s the kind of head of the house I think you’re supposed to be. You’re supposed to love Marilyn the same way you love yourself. That’s the kind of team any Christian woman wouldn’t mind being a part of. I know this firsthand. After Ted learned this, he started treating me like a queen.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away as the song ended.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim was on the couch, changing out of his shoes. “I can’t believe this is our last lesson.”

“I’ve really enjoyed being your dance instructor,” she said. “Honestly, it’s been a pleasure.”

Jim stood up. “Audrey, you’ve been much more than my dance instructor. I’ve learned things from you that, well . . . I just wish I’d learned them years ago. Maybe Marilyn would still be here.”

“Don’t go there, Jim. You’re talking like it’s hopeless. I believe God can still turn this around.”

He talked like it was hopeless because that’s how he felt. Marilyn wasn’t an inch closer to coming home. She still refused to talk to him. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Here.” He took the invitation out of his pocket. “I know it’s short notice, but I’d love it if you could come to my daughter Michele’s wedding. It’s a week from Saturday.”

Audrey opened the invitation and read the front page. “I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said, looking up. “But if I can, I’ll certainly be there.”

Jim made his way to the door. She reached out her hand. Jim took it and drew her into a hug. “I think you’ve changed my life, Audrey. Because of you, I’m going to be dancing at a wedding for the first time in my life.” As he pulled back, he started choking up. “I actually said yes when Michele asked me to do the father-daughter dance. And I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I’m kind of looking forward to it.”