Waters Fall (4 page)

“Careful. That’s hot.” Vicky sat back down, pulled the lid off her own cup, and blew into it. “So how are the lists coming?”

Nora’s smile turned a little sheepish. “I have more than twenty reasons for both. I hope that's okay.”

“Of course.
Far be it from me to limit your love, especially for your children.” The counselor smirked at her own teasing, flipping her shoulder-length blond hair back, so it wouldn’t slip into the top of her cup while she drank. “Now comes the next part of the assignment. This might be a little more difficult.”

“Is this the catch?”

Vicky’s eyes twinkled, but she didn’t say yea or nay. She took the notebook from Nora, opened it to the very last blank page, and handed it back. “I'd like you to make me a list of twenty things you love about yourself.”

“What?
About me?”

“About yourself.
And I want it on the last page so you can find it easily and refer to it often.”

Nora was skeptical, but still softened by the Utopian feelings of love for her
children, she did as she was asked.

Ten minutes later, she looked up at Vicky, who appeared to be catching up on charting notes while she waited in the chair across from her. She had her feet tucked up under her, making her seem a little more accessible to Nora.
“This is hard. Can I write stupid stuff, like I love my hair?”

“Of course you can. If you love your hair, write it down! Not many women can say that,” Vicky declared. “These lists aren't for anyone to see but you. Even I'm not going to look at them.”

It took her nearly the rest of the visit before she reached twenty things she loved about herself; things she was happy about. Nora was quite proud of herself when she closed the notebook and mentally added ‘I like twenty things about myself’ to the list.

“Done.”

Vicky closed the folder she was working in, and folded her hands in her lap. “Good. Now for the final and most difficult part of your assignment. Open to a new page, about halfway through the book, and write down two things you love about Jake. Two things you’re thankful for.”

“So that's what this is about.” There was always a catch.

Vicky leaned back in her chair, elbows on the arm rests, fingers laced together around the large coffee she was still nursing. “In general, making lists of things for which you’re thankful about someone is a healthy practice in any kind of a relationship. I had you start with the easy lists, those of your children, so you would get into the mental mode of thinking positively. Then I had you move on to yourself, a little harder, but still doable. And now that you've had some practice, I want you to do the same with Jake.”

She leaned forward and held up two fingers.
“I do want you to limit it to just two things today. No more, no less. Just two.” Vicky waited until Nora nodded. “But I want you to share those things with me.”

“Why do I have to write them down, then?” She didn’t want to do it. If she was only allowed to write down good things about Jake, wouldn’t her reasons for coming here be invalidated? “Can't I just tell you two things if we're going to talk about them anyway?”

Vicky smiled understandingly, “There's a method to my madness, okay? Trust me on this.”

“That's what they all say...” Nora muttered from the side of her mouth. This was what she disliked about counseling; the stuff that caught her by surprise. She hated feeling exposed and vulnerable, then judged for feeling that way, and in this plush, tapestried armchair of Vicky’s, she felt it all in abundance. She giggled nervously. “What if I can't come up with anything?”

“It's an assignment. You are required to come up with two things. You can do it.”

Vicky gave her some scripture references to study.
“I know you've heard these before. Maybe you've even memorized some of these. But I want you to really take them to heart and practice them. Philippians 4:6-9 says
, Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
It's the peace we're after, Nora. And I’m not talking about everything being hunky-dory. A-Okay. I’m talking about peace in our spirits, knowing that we’re where we’re supposed to be, regardless of what’s going on around us. Peace even when we don’t understand or agree with our circumstances. That’s the goal.

“The passage goes on to say that we are to practice thinking about things excellent and worthy of praise.
Practice. That means it isn’t going to come naturally. We have to
practice
these things. It's the only way to get the results we’re after. And what are we after?”

“Peace, man,” Nora retorted, drawing her words out, holding two fingers up.

Each time they met together, she was required to come up with two more things about Jake for which she was thankful. Vicky encouraged her to think about what was on her list every night before going to bed.

“I want your primary thoughts about Jake to be positive when you climb under the covers next to him. I want you to sit across the table from him at mealtimes, and only let yourself think on good things. I want you to
practice
thinking good things about him. Make it a habit, Nora.”

Well, she tried. She purposed every day and every night to think good things about him. She closed her eyes and visualized her growing list in her head. She ran down that list and spoke out each item on it. She thanked God for Jake's attentiveness, for his kindness to their extended family. She thanked God for how much her husband loved their children. She thanked Him for Jake
’s willingness to put up with her work, even though she knew he was tired of her long hours. She thanked God he was healthy and strong, that Jake was a good and generous lover, that he was both passionate and gentlemanly in bed.

Now she felt horrible for the ugly things she'd said to him in their bedroom. Standing in the shower, her body relaxed and flushed from the hot water, she began to soften toward him. She thought she knew how to make it up to him. It may not bring the peace of God, but there would at least be peace of some kind in their home tonight. She turned off the water, quickly dried and perfumed her body, then slipped back across the hall, her nightclothes still draped over her arm
.

5

Morning always came. Without fail, it showed up.
And without fail, it delivered a hangover of emotions from the day before. Jake awoke to the echo of Nora's angry words ringing in his ears. Even though she'd come to him so sweetly from her shower, he'd fallen asleep long after she did. Why would she say things like that, even if she was tired or in a bad mood?

She slept with her back to him, pressed up against his side, and he lay still, listening to her breathe, as he contemplated the questions in his head.

What if she was hiding something from him? Some
one
? What if there really was another man? Granted, he probably wasn't some young Spaniard who called her love names in his native tongue, but a client perhaps? One of the distributors she was always on the phone with? She was so distant, so withdrawn; sometimes it seemed like it almost pained her to be around him. When she came to bed naked and smelling so good, it only confused him more.

He rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed, running his fingers through his choppy dark hair. His eyes burned and his stomach felt hollowed out by fatigue, but there was little
hope of falling back to sleep, not with his mind in such turmoil.

“Coffee,” he mumbled, pressing a palm to his chest. It wasn’t quite six, but he knew Nora would be up soon, and she’d be grateful for the caffeine, too.

Several minutes later, he returned to the room, two steaming cups in his hands. She was just beginning to stir as he came around to her side of the bed, and he nudged her over so he could sit beside her. She looked soft and vulnerable in the morning light, all rumpled and mussed from sleep. Eyes still closed, she ran her fingers down his side and over the ridge of his hip bone. Such a dichotomy between this flushed lover in his bed this morning and the woman who’d mocked him from the doorway the night before.

“Good morning.” He held her mug where she would see it when she opened her eyes. “I brought you something.”

She sighed and smiled, her nose already lifted as she breathed in the rich, earthy fragrance of the Italian roast that was her favorite. “Mmmm. I love you, Jakey.”

She didn't call him that very often. He didn't like it, and she knew it, but he rarely felt like she did it to irritate him. It just rolled off her tongue every once in a while, and she almost always apologized for it, so he tried not to let it bother him too much. Today, however, it grated on his already raw nerves.

“Please don't call me that.”

She pushed herself up to a sitting position and took the mug from him.
“Sorry. It just—”

“Slipped out, I know.”
Kinda like the stuff you said last night
, he thought to himself. He let his eyes drift down the contours of her body under the nightgown she’d slipped on sometime in the middle of the night. It was inside out.

Nora didn't say anything. She took a sip of the hot drink and leaned her head back against the bars of the iron headboard behind her.

“Can we talk about last night?” He reached over and touched the exposed seam on her shoulder.

“Please, Jake.” She tilted her head to one side, a sexy little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, slanting her tired eyes. “Wasn’t my apology enough for you last night?”

He ignored the question. His head was starting to hurt as the notion of her with another man hammered inside his skull. “I want you to know that I love you, Nora. I don't know what's going on, and I feel like I'm always asking if you’re okay even though I don’t think you are, but even if you don't want to tell me, you must know that I'm here for you, and I will listen whenever you're ready to talk.” He took a deep breath before adding, “No matter what it is, I forgive you, and I want—”

“You forgive me?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she slowly, carefully set her coffee down, folding her hands in her lap. Her gesture, fluid and controlled, warned him that things had just taken a turn into very dangerous territory. Nevertheless, he pressed on.

“Yes. I do. If there's anything you're afraid to tell me, if you've done anything you think might hurt me, well, I've already forgiven you. I still love you. No matter what.”

Her eyes, so warm and inviting only moments before, turned icy. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked down into his own cup.
“I'm tired of trying to guess what's wrong with you, Nor. I want you to be happy. I want
us
to be happy. I don't care what you've done. I just want to wipe the slate clean and start over again. Is that possible? Can we do that?”

He looked at her again, hoping for a softening, for the return of the warm reception she
’d awakened with.

That was not what he saw on her face. Instead, she pressed her lips together in a grim smile, and he could see her knuckles turning white as she clenched her laced fingers together.
“Just what is it you think I've done?”             

“I—” He stopped, afraid to put his fears into words. “I don't know. I don't know what I think anymore. I just know that you're different. You're distant. You're
always
busy.” He grimaced. “You're sad.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, gripping his cup with both hands. His stomach was beginning to churn and his next words came out barely above a whisper. “I hear you cry at night when you think I'm already asleep.”

“I'm busy?
Distant? Different?” Her voice raised in pitch with each word. “Let me see,” she said, sarcasm oozing from every syllable. “I
am
busy. I'm busy working my butt off to keep this family clothed and fed, to pay the bills, to put a roof over our heads. I'm busy trying to keep the reputation of my business intact without any help from anyone, because I can't afford an assistant. And I'm busy trying to be an attentive mommy and wife.” She was ticking things off on her fingers as she spoke. “I'm distant? Hm. Maybe it's because I'm busy.” She sat forward, trying to untangle her legs from the sheets with little success. “And did you ever think that maybe I’m sad because I wish things were different for us? For our family? Did you ever think that maybe I
miss
you and the kids? That maybe I'm so exhausted I can't think straight? I'm working sixty-plus hours a week! I haven't read a book in three months. Three months, Jake! Have you even noticed? Oh no. You sit there on your pompous backside and think the very worst of me, then graciously offer me your forgiveness. How dare you? How
dare
you!”

Her voice broke on the last word, and he saw her eyes well up with tears. Feeling flushed with shame, he reached over to put a hand on her leg.

“
Don't
touch me.” She slapped his fingers away, making the hot coffee in his other hand slosh onto his lap. He flinched, and she scooted away from him to get out on the other side of the bed. Slipping her arms into her robe, she stalked out of the room.

Jake said a very bad word.

~ ~ ~

“I will no
t be able to make my appointment this
evening,
Vicky. I'm sorry for the short notice. Felix has an open house tonight that somehow didn’t end up on my calendar, and I have to shuffle everything around today.”

“That’s fine. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?” She sounded concerned, but Nora didn't know if she really was, or if it was just her own guilty conscience projecting her assumptions on the woman.

“Sorry. Bible study.”

“You're still going then?”

“Yes.”

“Jake is, too?”

“Of course. If I go, he goes.”

“And if you don't go?”

“He doesn't either, Vicky. But I'm sure you already knew that.”

“Has anything happened, Nora?” Vicky switched tactics. “Anything changed that would keep you from seeing me?”

“Other than a kid's open house? Nope.” But the fact that
nothing
had changed was really getting to her, and now, so was this conversation. “Listen Vicky. I'm tired. I’m tired of praying that God will fix things. He’s not doing anything. He's ignoring the situation. I need a break. I need... I don't know what I need.” She shook her head. “Actually, I need to go now, that's what I need. I have to get some work done before this evening.”

“Of course, Nora, but please call me in the morning. According to your file, we’ve only been meeting for six weeks, Nora. These things take time.
Sometimes a lot of time. Don't give up now. The dry places can be disillusioning, but they're to be expected. Let’s get you in within the next few days, all right? If you have a spare hour, you call, and I’ll see what I can do to squeeze you in.”

“All right.”
Even to her own ears, her clipped answer didn't sound too convincing.

“You'll call?”

“I'll call,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t.

“Okay. Enjoy the open house.”

“We always do.” Nora was already dreading it. The week before, at Leslie's open house, the teacher spoke to Jake almost exclusively. Even when Nora asked a question, Ms. Flutter-fingers fluttered her fingers, and her answers, at Jake instead. They seemed to have already established a rapport, and Nora couldn't be absolutely certain, but she thought the woman shot a couple of heated looks her way. She felt decidedly excluded, and when she asked Jake about it later in the car, he hesitated, then admitted he'd asked the teachers to contact him if the need ever arose, because Nora was so busy.

“I didn't think she'd act so ridiculous, though. I saw a couple of those looks she pinned you with.” He chuckled, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as though he was trying to swallow his laugh.

“You think this is funny?” She turned in her seat to face him, one hand on the dashboard, the other pulling the shoulder strap of the seatbelt away from her neck where it seemed to be strangling her “Why would you do that? Now that woman thinks I’m too busy to be concerned about the welfare of my own daughter, Jake.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a little?” He glowered at the taillights of the car in front of them, not looking at her.

“No, I’m not overreacting.” Was that his favorite word these days? “Let me explain to you what you've done. I am now the absent career parent, and you're the wonderful, practically-single father raising his children without a mother-figure in the home. No wonder she barely spoke to me. I couldn't tell if she was punishing me, hitting on you, or both!”

“Well, now you know how I felt all those years when I worked such long hours.” He sounded like a petulant child, and Nora had a nearly uncontrollable urge to reach across the middle console and slap him. She brought her fist down hard, thumping it against her knee as she spoke.

“No! I never, ever,
ever,
asked the teachers to not bother calling you because you were too busy for your own children. I would
never
do that to you.” She crossed her arms and shifted in her seat, glaring out the window instead of at him. “Fix it, Jake. Call the school tomorrow and put my number back on the list. On the top of the list.” Her breath momentarily steamed the window as if emphasizing her words.

“Fine.
I was just trying to help you. I know you actually
are
busy, and I thought it would make things easier for you not to have to trouble yourself about the kids.” He had both hands on the steering wheel, and when she glanced back at him, she could see him kneading the soft leather casing, his wrists moving up and down in the moonlight.

“Do you know when I worry about my children, Jake? I worry when I
don't
hear from them or from their teachers. I'm their mother, not their guardian. Not their care-taker. It's my very nature to trouble myself about my children.”

“Hey!” He smacked the console between them, and she wondered if he was feeling the same impulse to inflict bodily harm as she was. “They're my children, too, Nora. Stop calling them yours, especially when you’re talking to me.”

“Then stop acting like they're
not
mine.” The rest of the ride home was spent in a thick, murky silence that hadn’t let up all week.

Tonight, they had another open house to attend, and they'd barely spoken all week. Granted, they
’d had few opportunities to discuss much of anything at all. She had three clients chomping at the bit to spend some money, and for once, she was grateful she was too busy to spend any time alone with her husband.

Nora now bent her head to the task at hand, a pile of paperwork needing her attention. The phone rang and she hesitated before answering it. It was Jake.

“I'm won’t be able to go tonight. I have a meeting with a client.” He didn't greet her, or ask her how she was doing.

“Oh. Okay.”

He continued, his voice tense and his words rushed, as though he'd rehearsed his lines. “I'll need you to be home by six tonight. I'm having dinner out, too.”

“I'll see what I can do.” Nora wasn’t sure whether she should be offended or worried.

“No, I need better than that. I need you to be here. I'm leaving the house at six o'clock this evening. If you're not here, your children will eat their dinner alone.”