Superior Storm (Lake Superior Mysteries) (16 page)

I realized that I was standing in the doorway, staring at her. “Sorry,” I said. “Please.”

She smiled at me
and walked in. “Smells wonderful,” she said.

Melanchthon, the newly named kitten, came tearing into the room. He skidded to a stop in front of Leyla and stood on stiff legs
with
bristling fur. His eyes were wide and wild.

“Oh,” said Leyla. “Your kitty!”

For a heartbeat he stared at her, and then raced from the room, making a loud galloping sound with his tiny paws on the wood floor.

“He’s cute,” she said, laughing. “Did you name him yet?”

“Melanchthon,” I said.

She got a frowny expression on her face that I thought was almost as cute as the cat.

“What?”

“Does no one learn about obscure sixteenth century scholars in school anymore?” I asked. “
Mel-ank-thon
. He was a Reformation scholar, a close associate of Martin Luther.”

“Luther would be a good name for a cat,” commented Leyla. She still looked vaguely disapproving.

“You people are all the same,” I said, throwing up my hands.
“He shall be Melanchthon. That’s my final word.”

“Okay,” she said. “Don’t blame me if he has social problems as a result of growing up with a weird name.”

She
smiled at me, and then went to stand
out on the deck, looking into
the twilit vastness of the lake,
while I set the table. I set a match to the fire I had laid earlier, and then called her in.
I felt like a schoolboy. I had lit candles, and we ate by them and the firelight.

Melanchthon crept cautiously back into the room. I scooped a small piece of lasagna for him and put it on a plate on the floor. He sniffed at it, and then began eating.

“Is that good for him?” asked Leyla.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I said.

She looked at me for a moment, and then smiled happily. “Why
,
Jonah,” she said. “You’ve never owned a pet, have you?”

“I’m figuring it out,” I said. “So far, it’s working out.”

We had Riesling with the lasagna. It was technically a wine that should have been paired with different food, but we both liked it, and neither of us cared much about wine-food pairing.

Afterward
,
we sat on the couch and looked at the fire.
Melanchthon climbed onto the back of the couch and sat next to my ear, purring loudly.
Leyla sighed, leaned back
,
and closed her eyes.
“This is lovely,” she said.

“Yes, it is.” I felt like a teenager more than ever. I was trying to plan how to make my move. We were both on the couch, but there was some distance between us. If I stretched out my arm, it would reach around her neck, but not around her shoulders.

I was well into my third decade of life, and I had been married before, and here I was
,
struggling to get to first base with a woman who had already told me she was waiting for me to decide if I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with
her
. Finally, I reach
ed
over and held her hand.

Her eyes popped open and, she looked over at me. I slid my fingers in between hers, so that they were intertwined, and I scooted over so our shoulders were touching. She looked down at our hands, and then back up at me.

“Jonah,” she said. “We have to talk.”

My heart sank. “Okay,” I said. I had waited too long. She had moved on.

Slowly, she disengaged her hand. “Jonah, this is all wonderful. Too wonderful.” She had a trick of looking beautiful and vulnerable and strong, all at the same time.

“This is exactly what I want
with you. But it's too painful – to
spend time with you like this, to have this, but not have it, if you know what I mean.”

“I'm not sure I do,” I said.

“I feel too vulnerable. I feel like maybe you're taking advantage of me. I can wait for you to make up your mind about me – for a little while. But I can't wait, and then act as if we're together, when we're not.”

“We said we were friends with a future.”

“That's right. And I don't cuddle on the couch, and do who knows what else, with someone I'm only friends with.”

“
Who knows what else?
” I said. I thought I kept my tone mild, but she punched me in the shoulder anyway.

“You know what I mean. I want this with you, but not open-ended, not until I know you want the same thing.”

“You want me to commit.”

Leyla tossed her hair back. “Maybe some girls are afraid to demand that. But I'm not. I'll wait for you. But I won't be your idle amusement while you make up your mind.”

“Okay.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “Okay what.”

I reclaimed her hand. “Okay, I commit.”

She looked at me some more.

“We were friends with a future. I want the future to start now.”

“Just like that?”

“No, not 'just like that.' I've been thinking and praying and working things through. I invited you here tonight to communicate that very thing to you.”

“By holding my hand.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were married before.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Maybe men communicate these things by holding hands and making a move. But women need to talk about them.”

“Making a move?”

“I'm not vain, but I've had my share of men trying get to
first base with me – and
beyond. I know what you were doing.”

“For the record, I didn't plan to go beyond first base.”

At last
,
she smiled. Her eyes were warm and full of mischief. “That's a good thing. You see, I've had this spiritual awakening over the past year, and you aren't getting anywhere near home plate until there's a ring on my finger, a dress in my closet, and cake in our freezer.”

“I'll consider myself warned. And for the record, though parts of me might disagree, I feel the same way as you do about it.”

Leyla turned toward me and slipped her arms around my neck. “Now that's all settled, there's nothing wrong with a little restrained second-base action,” she said, and kissed me.

“Hey, let's not steal any bases,” said Leyla, a little while later.

“Sorry,” I said, catching my breath. “It's been a very long time, and I sort of forgot myself for a moment.”

“Well
,
it's gotta be longer still, buddy.”

“Edward Gibbon would approve,” I murmured.

Her nose crinkled up into a puzzled expression. “I can imagine you saying that God approves, or my mother would approve, or your own mother, or even you yourself, and I would agree with you. But who is Edward Gibbon?”

“He wrote
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
. He said basically that all civilization is built upon the resolve of women to insist upon marriage before sex.”

“So
,
you're saying I just saved civilization?”

“I would not have let it go that far either.
” Honesty compelled me to add,
“
I don't think.”

We looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. The moment got even longer. I began to lean toward her again.

Melanchthon chose this moment to launch a pre-emptive strike on Leyla’s dangling earrings. She gave a little shriek and then collapsed, laughing. She grabbed the kitten and pulled him into her lap, stroking him. He clutched at her hand with his paws and began to gnaw gently on one of her fingers, purring wildly.

“So
,
how does saying no
to sex, save civilization?” she asked
.

I straightened up, and then stood up. “Thank you
, Melanchthon
. You want some water or something?”

“Sure,” she said
.

I went over to my kitchen and got us both some ice and water. “According to Gibbon, Roman society began to fall apart after marriage lost its value in the culture, and promiscuity became widespread. Divorce became common, families were fractured and then other social institutions also began to break down. Basically, without the dominance of what we call 'the traditional family
,
' cultures break down and eventually collapse.”

“Isn't that a little bigoted? I mean
,
nowadays, a lot of people feel that there are many different variations of 'family' and all of them basically valid.”

“History done right is a bigoted discipline.”

Leyla took the glass of water. She sipped it and then winked at me. “This is good. We need a good intellectual discussion right now. So how is history bigoted?”

“I guess what I mean is, it shows things as they really are, or were, rather. Nowadays we maintain all choices for family units are equal. We try to pretend that all beliefs and practices are neutral in relation to each other. But history tells a different story. It shows us that not all beliefs and practices are equal in terms of their effects on people. Some things really are better than others. Democracy really is better than
Nazism
and Communism. Capitalism, for all its faults, really has benefited far more people than socialism. And, according to convincing arguments from people like Edward Gibbon, society really is better off when traditional marriage and morality are valued, as opposed to when they aren't. It isn't just a religious thing either – Gibbon was not a Christian himself. It's just the bigoted historical fact.”

“Do you always think this way, or only when I kiss you?”

“We could find out,” I said with an un-pastorly leer.

“Yes, let's,” she said primly. “I just kissed you not long ago, so now let's try not kissing, and see how
that
works.”

“Hey, speaking of marriage,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment, and ignoring the mischievous twinkle in Leyla's eyes, “I need to ask you a favor.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “That is a very weird way to set up a question,” she said.

“Well, in my own small way, I too, am trying to save civilization. I do a fair amount of marriage counseling.”

Leyla relaxed a little. “And?”

I told her about the marriage counseling sailing cruise.

“Isn't it a little late in the season for that?” she asked.

“Well, we're getting it ridiculously cheap, and these two couples really need the help. Plus, if they keep on like they have been, I could just save civilization by throwing them off the boat.”

“Seriously Jonah,” she said. “I'm a little worried about you at this time of year. The weather on Superior is nothing to mess with.
Storms often come up out of nowhere.
”

“Then come along,” I said.

“What are you saying?” She said each word very distinctively, looking at me in a way tha
t I would describe as “levelly.”

“I need a captain. The guy
we
had bailed out on us. You can handle one of those forty-foot yachts, can't you?”

“Where would I sleep?” she said.

“Why does everyone ask me that?” I said. “We'd each have a couch in the main cabin. The two berths will be for the two couples.”

She was silent for a moment. “Jonah,” she said after a minute, looking into the fire, “you didn't – you didn't make a move on me just to get me to say yes to this, did you?”

I reached over an
d
palmed her cheek, bringing her eyes to meet mine. “Never,” I said. “I am many things less than wonderful, but I would never do that to you, or anyone else for that matter. Regardless of whether or not you want to captain this cruise, I want to commit to you, to let our relationship go wherever God takes it.”

“Good,” she said. “I mean, I didn't think so, but...well, never mind.”

“The past few months have been tough. I'm trusting you again. You need to trust me too.”

“Okay. Can I think about the cruise?”

“Of course. But not too long. It's coming up pretty quickly here.”

“Gee,” she said, “you're coming up with all kinds of ways for me to save civilization.”

“Just want you to feel needed,” I said.

Two days later, over a cup of wild rice and chicken gumbo at Dylan's Cafe, Leyla accepted my invitation to captain the marriage counseling cruise.

“Where will I be when you do the counseling sessions? She asked.

“Well,” I said, “we'll see what works out best. We may want to just talk informally while we're going along, or we might have formal sessions. I want to play that one by ear. Anyway, you may not be able to avoid being where we are.”