The Promise (21 page)

 39 

T
om was buttoning up his shirt in Uncle Henry and Aunt Myra's guest room. He had to be at work at the Java Stop in less than an hour and needed to leave early to make the drive from New Smyrna Beach to Lake Mary.

Although his life was in ruins, the thick depression that had consumed him for so long seemed to have lifted somewhat after his conversation with Uncle Henry that morning. For the last few hours he'd felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: the nearness of God. Because after that talk, Tom had driven to the beach, found a fairly secluded stretch, and just started walking. The longer he walked, the clearer things became. It was true that his so-called friend Jared had betrayed him. But everything that happened after that, the mess he'd made reacting to that betrayal, was entirely of his own making. As the pile of troubles and consequences from his string of poor choices mounted up in his mind, he realized this wasn't something he could ever untangle by himself.

Before he'd left the house, Uncle Henry had walked up and said, “It's for things just like this that God sent us a Savior. You need to turn it all over to him, Son. My advice would be to humble yourself by admitting that you're powerless to get
yourself out of this mess. Seek his plans for your life instead of your own. You could even begin to thank him for using this trial to turn you back to him. No one fixes messes like God. I know this firsthand.”

As he'd walked along the shoreline, Tom finally had a breakthrough. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he told God he really wanted to get it right . . . with Jean, with everybody. Whatever that meant. Whatever he needed to do. For however much time it took.

Thinking about that moment now, he walked over to the bed. He sat on the edge to put on his shoes. He heard a noise in the hall and looked up. It was Uncle Henry.

“How you making out?”

“I'm doing all right,” Tom said. “What you said this morning really helped. That walk on the beach did too.”

“When do you have to leave for work?”

“In about fifteen minutes.”

“Well, I've been talking with your aunt while you were gone. We both think you might need some help patching things up with Jean. Not just with Jean, but with your father too.”

“My father? You think he and I need some . . . patching up?”

Uncle Henry came through the doorway. “Well, maybe not patching up so much. But I think—we both think—your problems with Jean actually go upstream a bit. They're connected to a breakdown in your relationship with your dad. Something I think neither one of you is seeing.”

“Well, I'm fine with whatever you want to do, Uncle Henry. Right about now, I could use all the help I can get.” He bent down and tied his shoes. “You think at some point, though, you could call Jean for me? See if she's okay with me coming home after work, or whether I need to come back here?”

“Sure, I can do that. If she wants you to come back here, you're welcome to use this room for as long as you need it.”

Tom looked up into Uncle Henry's kind eyes. “When you talk to her, please make her believe there's nobody else. Because of all my lies, she's actually wondering if that's what's going on here. But I promise you it's not. It never dawned on me this whole time that she'd think that. This is just about me losing my job, and for some stupid reason thinking it might be a good idea not to tell her till I got a new one. But it's gotta be eating her up inside, wondering if I've been unfaithful.”

Uncle Henry sat in the upholstered chair in the corner. “Why do you think she thinks that, Tom, that you've been unfaithful?”

“I don't know. I suppose it's because I've also been treating her like crap this whole time. And because she isn't buying the idea that I would keep this charade going for five months if it was just about losing my job. Even saying it, I can't believe it myself. It was such a dumb thing to do. That's so clear now. But at the time, it felt like the only thing I could do. I still don't know why I did it.”

Uncle Henry nodded, like he was understanding something beyond what Tom had just said.

“What is it?” Tom said. “What are you thinking?”

“Everything you're saying is confirming what Aunt Myra and I talked about. The
real
reason you did all this. The core motivation.”

“What are you saying?”

“It's about your dad, Tom. There's something broken in your relationship with him. And with God's help, I'm hoping we can get that fixed.”

“My dad?” Tom stood up. “I wish I could stay and talk, but I really gotta go.”

Uncle Henry stood up too. “I'll walk you out to the car and explain a little more.” Tom turned down the hallway. Henry followed behind him. “I'm not saying your dad's to blame for everything you've done wrong here. I think you know that.”

“I'm not seeing how my dad's to blame for any of it, to be honest.” He came into the living room. “He wouldn't have approved of anything I did if I'd asked him.”

“No, I'm sure he wouldn't. But what I'm talking about goes deeper than that. It has to do with our family history, something that's been missing in your relationship since you were a child. Something your dad probably never even thought was all that important. Of course, he wouldn't have. None of the Anderson men got this. I wouldn't have, either, if I'd have stayed in the fold.”

None of this was making too much sense to Tom. He stepped into the kitchen to thank Aunt Myra and say good-bye, then headed through the front door toward his car. “I really want to hear more about this, Uncle Henry. I honestly do. But if I don't leave now, I'm gonna be late.”

“That's okay. Don't worry about it. Probably better if I take this up with your dad first anyway.” He patted Tom on the shoulder as he got into his car.

A few moments later Henry stood by the front window and watched Tom's car drive off down the road. “You were right, Myra, about all of it. I'm certain of that now.”

Myra walked up beside him, just in time to see Tom's car turn the corner.

He put his arm around her shoulder. “I suspect he barely got any encouragement at all from Jim throughout his childhood.”

“You never did from your father, you or your brother.”

“No, we sure didn't. And neither did Jim. It's tragic how few fathers realize the power of their tongue.”

“To build their kids up or tear 'em down,” she said. She gave Henry a little squeeze then pulled away. “I gotta finish up in the kitchen.” Talking over her shoulder, she said, “In some ways,
getting rejected by your dad when you picked me was the best thing that ever happened to us.”

Henry, still looking out the window, was thinking the same thing. The very same thing.

“When are you going to talk to Jim about this?” she said from the kitchen.

“Think I'm going to call him now, maybe take a drive over there before dinner.”

 40 

F
or the last hour, Marilyn had sat next to Charlotte at the Women's Resource Center orientation meeting. The director, Arlene Ryan, seemed to be wrapping things up. But already Marilyn was completely sold on everything she'd heard. She was so glad she had come.

She almost hadn't, but Jim had insisted she go, after promising her he wouldn't attempt to contact Tom while she was gone. He'd agreed with her—this whole thing had upset him too much, and he'd only make things worse if he stuck his nose in right now. They would pray and talk about it later, see if there was anything they could possibly do.

“So, are you gonna do it?” Charlotte leaned over and whispered.

“Definitely,” Marilyn said. “I would love to be a part of what's going on here.”

The resource center was a quaint little place, like a small doctor's office. A little on the plain side, but it was clean and nicely decorated. There were about ten other women listening to Arlene's presentation. Marilyn would be a part of the counseling team, but, as Charlotte assured her beforehand, this wasn't
some kind of heavy psychotherapy thing. Arlene had made a point of saying they weren't equipped to provide professional counseling, even calling the volunteers “client advocates.” Their clients were mostly young women in a crisis who, for the most part, needed a mother's love and advice. But for a variety of reasons, they weren't getting it.

The question was, could they—these client advocates—step in and fill that role? Could they help guide these girls to make the kinds of decisions they should be making at a crucial time like this? Then Arlene went on to spell out what that guidance looked like in a practical sense. Marilyn nodded her head the entire time. She also experienced a significant measure of gratitude for the relationship God had given her with Michele. And a renewed burden for the gaps that still existed in her relationship with Jean.

The meeting wrapped up after twenty more minutes. Coffee and light refreshments were served. Marilyn walked right over and turned in her signed form at the registration table. Charlotte had already signed up a month ago. As an RN she had more medical duties, mostly involving ultrasound. She really had only come to encourage Marilyn and, apparently, talk her up to the director. Marilyn saw her talking to Arlene right now, pointing in her direction. Charlotte smiled and waved her over.

As Marilyn approached, Arlene stuck out her hand. She was a lovely lady, dark-haired, slender, maybe a few years younger than Marilyn. “So you're Marilyn Anderson. So glad to finally meet you. Charlotte talks about you all the time.” They shook hands.

“I was totally inspired by what you said,” Marilyn said to Arlene. “I'd really like to help out here any way I can.”

“Charlotte thinks you'd make a wonderful mentor for our girls,” Arlene said.

“I hope so. I've always found it easy to talk with my daughter and all her friends.”

“That's because she's such a great listener,” Charlotte said. “And she never judges.”

“Of course,” Marilyn continued, “I don't have any experience talking girls through a crisis like this.”

Arlene walked over to a table and picked up a small booklet, then returned. “I wonder if you wouldn't mind reading this over in the next few days. It's something we prepared to equip our advocates.” She handed it to Marilyn. “This should give you a good idea of what's involved.”

“I definitely will.”

“In fact,” Arlene said, “if you can finish reading it by Monday and are still enthusiastic about doing this, I might like to put you with one of the girls right away.”

Marilyn wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. She had told Jim she would run everything by him before committing to anything specific. “Right away?”

“Well, in a few days anyway. We're really short staffed at the moment. I talked with Charlotte about it, and she thinks you're almost ready to go right now.”

Marilyn shot Charlotte a look meant to convey “What have you gotten me into?” Charlotte just raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“But I'm not even trained yet,” Marilyn said.

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Arlene said. “You've successfully raised three children through high school, right?”

Marilyn thought for a moment about the troubles waiting for her at home. Had she successfully raised her children? At the moment, she found herself wishing she could go back and do some things differently. Very differently.

“Yes, but—”

“Then I'd say you're probably closer to being trained than you know. I'm sure all we'd be doing is some tweaking and fine-tuning. Besides, for the first session, you'd be shadowing
one of our more experienced mentors. You'll pick up a lot just watching her.”

That sounded a little less scary.

“I don't mean to rush you, Marilyn,” Arlene continued. “Really I don't. You think it over, read the booklet, talk it over with your husband. See if God puts faith in your heart for this. That's how we do most things around here. A whole lot of walking by faith.”

“I suppose I can do that,” Marilyn said.

“Here's my card. My cell number is on the back. Call me in a couple of days, and we'll talk.”

Another volunteer came up to talk to Arlene. Marilyn took that as an opportunity to make her exit. She gently pulled Charlotte over to the table with the coffee and cookies. “What did you tell her about me, Charlotte?”

“Just the truth. About how kind you are, how caring you are, what a good friend you are, how wise you are.”

“Do you know anything about this first girl they want to put me with?”

“Sorry, I don't. But I know you'll do great, and like Arlene said, starting out you'd just be shadowing the more experienced mentors.”

“I don't know if I'm ready for something like this right away. I thought I'd have a month of training, or at least several weeks.”

“Don't worry, hon. Arlene is real nice. Just do like she told you. Think about it, pray about it, talk it over with Jim, read that booklet there. Don't get all worked up. I think this is one of those things, you know? Where we make such a big deal about it in our heads, then it turns out to be something so simple. They're real relational around here. That's all they're looking for, for you to be who you already are with some of these girls.”

Marilyn breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she was getting all worked up over nothing. She didn't have to decide right now.
And she wouldn't do anything without talking it over with Jim and getting his input. They were a team now; she didn't have to face decisions like this on her own anymore.

Jim . . . she'd better get home.

Whether she was ready to start counseling a young unwed mother was nothing compared to the full-blown family crisis of their own back home.