Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (28 page)

 52 

I
t was all Jim could do not to run down the stairs like the kids used to on Christmas morning. He grabbed his “practice” sheets, folded them, and put them in his pocket. He uttered a number of silent “Thank you, Lords” as he walked as calmly as he could down the stairs. He went into the kitchen, poured her a Diet Coke, and brought a bag of her favorite snack, Cheetos, to the living room.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to restrain a smile. “This’ll help.”

“How about I turn the TV on?” he said. “We can watch the weather, just for a few minutes. I’ve had it on upstairs. I think it will help you calm down.”

“How can that help, seeing the storm climb its way across the state right at us?”

“Because I think your imagination is making it worse.” He clicked the TV on. “After a few minutes of weather, we’ll watch an old movie. That’ll take your mind off things while the worst of the storm passes.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“But you hate old—”

“Doesn’t matter.” He wanted to say “It’s not all about me anymore,” but that would sound fake, even though he meant it. “It’ll probably do me some good too. Keep my mind off all the cleanup work I’m going to have to do tomorrow.” He sat in his spot, in the recliner closest to her corner of the couch.

Over the next two hours, they watched the weather then almost all of
Casablanca
. Mostly in silence. A major gust smacked against the house. The lights went out, just as Bogey and Bergman were about to do their famous good-bye scene at the airport. It startled them, but Marilyn didn’t scream this time. Instead, she calmly lit the candles she had placed on the coffee table.

Jim got up to turn on a few oil lanterns and grab the big flashlight on the kitchen counter. “They’ll probably only be off a little while,” he said, hoping that was true. As he picked up the flashlight, he got a strong impression the lights had gone out just now for a reason.

It was time. Time for the talk.

Instantly he tensed up, wrestling with the idea. What if it was a mistake? What if she shut him down before he finished? They’d sit around in an awkward—no, worse than awkward—silence till sunrise.

But the impression wouldn’t leave. Another strong gust blew, making the house vibrate.

“Jim, could you come back here?”

He hurried back to his chair, pulled out his practice sheets as he walked. “It’s okay,” he said. The eye of the storm had passed sometime during the movie. The winds had now shifted and were blowing against the house in the opposite direction. That usually
meant more tree damage, as limbs that had weakened during the first half of the hurricane would now snap off in round two.

“How much longer, do you think?”

“Not too much,” he said. “Maybe a couple of hours, then the winds will start to drop as the storm gets farther away.”

“I hope the electricity comes back on soon,” she said. “Watching the movie helped.”

“It helped me too.” He brought the papers out so he could see them but kept them out of the light. “Say, Marilyn. I was thinking, maybe with this interruption, you know, with the lights . . . maybe you and I could talk.”

“I don’t know, Jim.”

“Well, actually, you wouldn’t have to talk, just listen.” She made a face. He realized what he’d said. “No, wait, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. You can say anything you want.” He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “What I’m trying to say is . . .” He turned the flashlight on his practice sheets. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, to say some things to you. Things I need to say, to—”

“Jim, I don’t want to get into an argument.”

“No, it’s not anything we should argue over. Really. It’s mostly an apology. I wrote it down because . . . well, I’m no good at this. I just want you to know how sorry I am about some things. Some important things. You don’t have to apologize back, or say anything at all if you don’t want to. This is about me saying some things to you that I’ve already talked to God about. But that’s not enough. I need to say them to you.”

She looked toward the kitchen. He heard her sigh.

“Would that be okay?” he said. “After, if you feel like I’ve made things too awkward for us, I can go back upstairs.” She turned and looked back at him. He couldn’t read her face. “Is
that okay?” He looked down at his sheets. “It’s not very long. I wrote it down so I wouldn’t ramble on, but mostly so I wouldn’t forget anything that mattered.” He looked back at her. “Can I say this? Can I read this to you?”

She nodded. Her face seemed hard as a rock. He tried not to let that get to him. As he held the sheets of paper, he set his hands firmly against his lap so he wouldn’t tremble. “Here it is.”

Marilyn,

I think I get now why you left. I’m not upset anymore, and I want to apologize first for getting so upset. I acted as if you had no right to leave me or had any reason to be unhappy. Like you said, I didn’t have a clue. Obviously, you wouldn’t leave me or this house you love, or our life together, to move into a little apartment if I hadn’t made you profoundly unhappy for a long—

He took a deep breath, fighting a wave of emotion.

—long time. I have been so stubborn and selfish. Really, I think for our entire marriage. I tried but I couldn’t recall any clear examples of when I did things around here or made decisions for us that weren’t—

He started to choke up again. He had to get himself under control.

—that weren’t mostly about me and what I wanted. Even the church I made us go to, and all those business parties. I never thought about you, your needs, or the kids.

I didn’t pay near enough attention to you or things you cared about. Not just lately.

He looked up, tears welling in his eyes. She was looking away but still listening.

I’ve been demanding and legalistic. I hardly ever encouraged you or the kids. But I was always quick to point out someone’s mistakes or something I didn’t think was done right.

I’ve been talking with our kids lately. Actually, listening to them.

Tears poured down his face.

I’ve got a long way to go to start trying to make it up to them, and to you, but I’m going to try if you’ll let me. I’m sure I’m only seeing a fraction of the pain I’ve caused you, but even the part I am seeing . . . well, it’s killing me inside.

But that’s okay. The part it’s killing needs to die. It’s the part that’s made you so unhappy you felt you had to leave, to try and escape it.

He wiped the tears off his face.

But I want you to know . . . I do love you, Marilyn. You are the best thing that’s happened to me. Ever. I didn’t treat you like you were. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But now I know what I’ve lost. And I almost can’t bear it.

The only hope I may ever have with you is to earn your respect again by proving my love for you. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll do it.

He could hardly continue; his body was shivering with regret.

You are such a wonderful, beautiful person and I don’t deserve you. But I have the rest of my life to help you find happiness again, and whatever that takes, I’ll try to help you find it. I’m just asking that you don’t quit on us yet. Please give it some more time. See if God will change your heart back to where it was before I crushed it.

He looked up and said the rest from memory
.
“I’ll be here, Marilyn, as long as it takes. Begging God to keep changing my heart to where it needs to be. Waiting for you to come home. Hoping I can become the man you’ve always wanted me to be. Please forgive me, Marilyn. For all of it. I love you and always will.”

Tears dropped down onto the page. He wiped his eyes again and looked at her.
Please look at me, Marilyn
. She was still looking out toward the kitchen, but he saw a single tear roll down her cheek. “I’ve been thinking, after this storm is over, I’m going to move out, find a place to live till you make up your mind about what you’re going to do. This is your house too. You should stay here. I know that’ll make Doug happy too.”

Nothing was said for the next few minutes. Felt like an hour. “Well . . . thanks for letting me say all that. I really am so sorry. So very, very sorry.” Just then, the power came back on and all the lights. The TV too. “That didn’t last too long,” he said, trying to break the ice. He wished she would look at him, say something.

Finally, she spoke, eyes fixed on the TV. “Could we finish watching the movie?”

 53 

L
ater that night after they’d finished watching
Casablanca
, and sometime during a second movie,
Sabrina
, Hurricane Harold finally left the area. The torrential rains stopped. The winds dropped from hurricane force to tropical storm force, then to intermittent gusts.

Marilyn had missed Harold’s grand exit. When Harrison Ford’s character flew off to Paris trying to win Sabrina back, Jim looked over; Marilyn had fallen asleep on the couch. It was her favorite part of the movie, but he didn’t want to wake her. He brought out a pillow and blanket. Half asleep, she’d added their presence into whatever dream she was having, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

The next morning she walked around downstairs as if Jim had never read that letter to her. They went outside together and surveyed the damage, first in front on Elderberry Lane. Trees and limbs were down everywhere, up and down the street. But none of their oaks had fallen. Some big limbs were gone. There were some scuff marks here and there where branches had smacked
against the side of the house. Jim couldn’t see a single shingle missing from the roof.

The biggest damage, of course, was the limb that had crushed Marilyn’s car. By lunchtime some neighbors with chain saws had made quick work of it. Putting her car in neutral, they were able to move it just enough so they could get to Jim’s and Doug’s cars. Doug had come home from Jason’s right around then to check in. He was in awe of the damage done to his mother’s car, less in awe of the news that he’d be riding his bike for the next few days. His mom needed to borrow his car until they could get her a rental while the insurance adjustors added everything up.

His joy returned when he’d learned his mom would be moving back in, at least for a while, and his dad would be moving out. It did Marilyn good to see Doug’s reaction. “See,” Jim had whispered to her. “If he was mad at you, he got over it.”

By day’s end, the River Oaks’ city workers and countless volunteers had the streets pretty well cleared of debris, at least enough for cars to pass by carefully in between piles of tree limbs and branches stacked head high on either side.

The electricity never did go out again. That fact had given Jim some hope that perhaps God really had set up that moment, just so he could tell Marilyn the things he needed to say. When it got dark, Jim took his final shower at the house, hoping he might be back before too long. He packed a few bags and told Marilyn he was going.

She was cleaning one of the many messes in the house that Jim had apparently made. “Did you hear me, Marilyn? I said I’m going.” She still didn’t answer. Was she ignoring him on purpose? Jim stood there a full minute, watching her. Well I guess that’s it, he thought, and he turned and headed toward the back door.

“Wait!” she yelled down the hallway, just as he opened the door. “I’ll walk you to the car.”

It was at least something. She followed him through the laundry room into the garage. Neither said a word. He turned to face her before getting into the car. She gave him a look he couldn’t read, so he got in and pushed the garage door button. He waved as he backed out. She hesitated, then waved back.

Just as he pulled onto the service road, she started saying something. He rolled his window down. “I’m glad you said what you said last night,” she said. “Really. I’m . . . I’m not ready to do anything about it just yet. But I will pray.”

It wasn’t what he had hoped to hear, but it was better than the awkward silence. “That’s okay, Marilyn. Just know I meant every word. Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Of course, he was going somewhere, for now. He had decided not to rent a place, figuring their cash flow would take a big hit with the storm repairs. During the day he’d remembered that one of his properties—the one he’d been trying to get that doctor to lease—had a full bathroom in the biggest office. And a small kitchen area for employees. Jim had decided to sleep on a blow-up air mattress in that office for the next several days, and hoped that it wouldn’t turn into the next several weeks.

That, of course, wasn’t entirely up to him.