The Lights of Tenth Street (15 page)

Jo shook her head. “It’s funny you say that. When we moved here, we visited your church two or three times because we really liked the pastor. But we just never connected with anyone at Trinity. It was like everyone was good-looking and
well-dressed and had on their ‘happy faces,’ but it just seemed a little … shallow. Sorry if that offends you.”

“Is your church any different? About being surfacey, I mean?”

“Well, last week this guy came forward afterward and cried all over the altar, asking for prayer for his addiction to drugs and illicit sex. And there were quite a few people praying for him. There’s a reason they named our church Good Shepherd, after all.”

“Wow. That would never happen at Trinity. It’s too pristine for that.”

“And that doesn’t seem strange to you?”

“No—it would seem strange to see anything else. I’m telling you, the people at Trinity just don’t have those problems.” Even as she said the words, her brain was turning to the drunk that had stumbled into the food pantry.
Maybe that’s because we don’t let them in the door
 …

She frowned to herself, feeling her defenses rising. “Surely, there are things you would change about Good Shepherd, too, right?”

“Oh, of course.” Jo waved a hand. “Sometimes, I think we get so wrapped up in trying to change the world that we don’t worry about changing hearts. I mean, I know how important it is for people to accept Jesus as Savior and Lord, but I’m not sure everyone in the church does.”

“But, see! That’s the whole
point
behind a church. What’s the good of having a loving church if it’s not preaching the gospel and getting people saved?”

Jo didn’t respond for a second. When she did speak, she looked at Sherry directly, her voice tight.

“I could ask a reverse question—what’s the point of having a Bible-teaching church if all the saved people just stay in their holy huddle and don’t follow Jesus’ command to get out in the darkness and love ‘the least of these’ in His name? The book of James wonders whether such people are even Christians at all.”

“Well, at least we’re preaching the Word.”

“Well, at least we’re living it out.”

The two women stared at each other, tense. Then suddenly, their lips twitched and they started laughing.

“What an argument!” Jo said. “I’m sure Jesus is rolling his eyes right now. I’m sorry. I just get a bee in my bonnet about the whole social justice thing, and sometimes I don’t know when to stop.”

Sherry shook her head. “No, you make some great points. I think we
should
be concentrating more on caring for the ‘widows and orphans.’ ” She chuckled. “I’ve got it—let’s solve this problem in one fell swoop by giving all the standoffish Christians a glimpse of earthly life without money and giving all the loving
pew-sitters a glimpse of eternal life without Jesus!”

She looked beyond the coffee shop railing to check on the kids, and gave a start. “Where’d they go?”

“What do you mean?” Jo’s eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. “I’m sure they’re here somewhere.”

The two women hurried back to the children’s section. No Brandon, Blake, or Genna. No kids at all, in fact.

“Where’d they all go?” Jo was looking around, her voice tight. “There were ten kids in here just a few—”

Giggles sounded from the other side of the bookstore, back toward the coffee shop. They wove their way among ranks of bookshelves and arrived at a sunken reading area. The floor was littered with children. A puppeteer was reading a book and acting out the story with a series of hand puppets.

Brandon, Blake, and Genna were seated near the back. A teenage girl was sitting beside them, her eyes watchful.

Sherry turned to see a well-dressed woman come around the corner at brisk speed, followed closely by the store’s manager. She stopped abruptly when she saw Sherry.

“Oh,
there
you are.”

“Hi, Melanie.” Sherry turned to Jo, who had gone to hug her son. “Jo, I’d like you to meet Melanie, from my church.” She looked back toward the manager. “What’s going on?”

Melanie shook Jo’s outstretched hand, then pressed her hand to her chest. “Well, dear, your kids were unsupervised, so of course I called the manager.”

“These your kids?” the manager asked.

Sherry and Jo nodded.

“Please don’t leave them alone in the store again.”

Jo put her hands on her hips. “We didn’t. We were just a few feet away, in your coffee shop.”

“Still, I’d urge you to use greater caution next time. These days, vigilance is always warranted.” He turned to Melanie. “Has the situation been resolved to your satisfaction, ma’am?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for your kind help.”

Sherry tried to contain her annoyance as the manager disappeared around the corner. “You reported us to the manager?”

“Well, dear, I recognized sweet little Brandon and Genna, and didn’t see you anywhere. So when all the other kids trooped over to the puppet show, I had my daughter bring them over here to keep an eye on them.”

“But we gave them strict instructions to stay in the children’s section, where we could see them,” Jo said.

Melanie looked over the top of her small glasses. “Well, sorry, dear, but I didn’t know you were there.”

“Well, thank you so much for looking after our children,” Jo said. “We really appreciate it.”

Melanie inclined her head. “Perhaps next time you can bring your coffee over to the children’s section.”

“Perhaps we’ll just do that.”

Once Melanie and her daughter were out of sight, Jo let out an explosive exclamation under her breath.

“Sorry about that,” Sherry said.

“No problem. Oy. How do you
stand
that?”

Sherry drove back home, her windshield wipers working overtime against the sudden winter rain. Somewhere in her purse, she could hear her cell phone ringing. She jerked to a stop at a light and fished it out.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Doug!” Sherry smiled as she pulled away from the light. “I miss you. Are you okay? I missed your call earlier. We had the field trip.”

“Yes, I’m fine. I miss you, too.” Doug’s voice sounded hushed. “I’m in the middle of meetings, but we just took a short break. I thought I’d try to get you since by the time we’re done tonight it’ll be too late to call.”

“I’m so glad you did. Are your meetings going okay?”

“They’re fine. Some challenges, as usual.”

“Is Jordan pushing you too hard? Don’t let him push you around.”

“It’s fine, Sherry. You have to stop worrying about that. I won’t let him push me around.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Well, I just thought I’d touch base—”

“You’re not going to believe who I just ran into!”

No response. She could hear him talking quietly to someone. After a second, he came back on. “Sorry about that. The meeting’s reconvening. What was that you said?”

“I said you’re not going to believe who I just ran into today.”

“Who was that?”

“Jo Markowitz, from school.”

“No kidding? That’s amazing. I can’t wait to hear about it.”

“But not right now, right?”

“Sorry, honey.”

“That’s okay. Have a good rest of your meeting.”

Doug tossed his car keys on the nightstand, loosened his tie, and sat on the bed. He reached to pick up the phone. Room service wasn’t his favorite option, but he just didn’t have the energy to go to a restaurant.

He puttered around the room, changed into sweats, and spent a few minutes organizing various documents from the day’s meetings. The food arrived with unusual speed, and he sat on the bed, watching the news and trying not to cram every bite into his mouth at the same time.

When he was done, he pushed the room service tray aside, collapsed back into the pillows and picked up the remote control.

The screen came alive with the opening credits of another first-run movie. As he watched, half-seeing, his mind did a guilty gallop around the steamy scenes from the previous night’s film. Several images of that actress had stayed with him all day, despite his halfhearted attempts to push them away.

Discordant music interrupted his thoughts, and he watched the screen more closely. This was a recent horror movie. He made a face. No thanks. He should just call the front desk and ask them to turn the pay-TV system off

I wonder if
 …

No
.

Just check … what’s the harm?

No. Pick up the phone and tell the front desk to turn it off
.

I wonder if
 …

He pressed a movie station button once, then twice, then three times. At the fourth click he stopped.

The flickering images pulled at something deep within him. He knew he should change the channel, but the screen filled his tired senses, his burdened mind. He laid the remote beside him on the bed, and lay down his resolve.

D
oug awoke in the hotel room, feeling dirty. Shame washed over him as his mind leapt to the images of the last night. It wasn’t fair to Sherry. He loved her.
He loved her
.

He went to take a shower, his steps leaden. As he passed the silent television, he tried to push back the alluring images in his brain. All the way through his shower, all the way through breakfast. Again and again, the struggle. Over his cereal, he read the paper without really seeing the words.

He retreated to his room, the television looming large near the bed.

Turn it on
.

The remote control was right there on the tousled bedsheets. Right there. Doug swayed from the effort to avoid picking it up. And his meeting wasn’t for two hours.

God, help me
.

He forced himself to walk to the closet, to dress in his business clothes, to pick up his laptop briefcase and walk out the door. He closed it behind him, feeling a flood of relief.

And the pictures came again. He whimpered slightly and half-ran down the corridor, heading for his car. But where could he go to escape the parade? It went with him.

Other memories accompanied him out to the car, and out on to the highway. He was thirteen years old, playing backyard ball with his buddies. A wild pitch landed in the neighbor’s garbage can. When he ran to retrieve the ball, a familiar logo peeped out from behind an empty pizza box.

That night, he offered—much to his mom’s surprise—to take out the trash. On the way back, he stashed the ragged men’s magazine under his shirt. He knew he shouldn’t, knew God didn’t want him to, but
he
wanted to. Up in his room, he studied the images, his young eyes wide, a primeval urge pulling at him. That was his first time. And if he closed his eyes, he could still see Miss September.

Miss September had been a problem his whole life.

Doug pulled off the highway at the appropriate exit and coasted into the
parking lot of a popular coffee shop. He still had ninety minutes to kill before his meeting.

He settled into one of the comfortable couches with a tall latte, then pulled out his cell phone, anxious to hear his wife’s voice.

Doug furrowed his forehead when he heard the familiar sounds of his home voice mail.

“Sherry, it’s me. I miss you so much. I’ve got over an hour before my next meeting, so if you get this message by noon your time, please call. I can’t wait to talk to you. I love you.”

He read another paper, then, on a whim, redialed his home.

Sherry picked up on the fourth ring, sounding agitated.

“Hello?” A wailing noise filled the background. “Hello?”

“Hi … sweetheart?”

“Oh, Doug, I—Genna, you stop that now. I told you to
stop that
.” Doug could hear a smacking noise and then more wailing.

Sherry came back on the line. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“Sounds like it. What’s going on?”

“Genna wasn’t feeling well so I kept her home from preschool, but she’s disobeying me at every turn. I’ve already had to spank her once.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish I was there to help.”

“I wish you were too. Bad timing for her to get all headstrong—no! She just dumped her juice on the floor.”

“On
purpose?
”

“It’s like she’s two years old again. Hey, Genna—Genna, go to time-out. Now.” Sherry sighed, and Doug could hear her mopping up the spill.

“Let me talk to her.”

“I don’t know if it’ll help. She—”

“Just let me try.”

Sherry handed the phone to their daughter, and Doug tried to sound as solemn as he could, when all he really wanted to do was give her a huge hug.

“Genna, this is Daddy.”

A small, angry voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m in California, sweetheart. You have to be good for Mommy, okay?”

“No, Daddy, no!” He heard the phone clattering to the floor, and his four-year-old daughter throwing a two-year-old temper tantrum.

What on earth?

Sherry retrieved the phone. “She ran upstairs. I better go.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s mad at you.”

“
What?
”

Sherry heaved a sigh. “She’s just really realized that you won’t be there on Saturday for the play, and she started trying to rip the wings off her costume.”

Doug couldn’t speak for a minute. He felt like he’d been punched in the heart. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

Another sigh. “She’s been like this a lot lately.”

“I haven’t seen that.”

“Well … you haven’t really been around much.”

I’m just a worthless idiot. I can’t even do right by my own family

Doug started to open his mouth when he heard Sherry trying to talk to their daughter. She came back on the line.

“I’ve got to go, honey. Lisa called a few minutes ago about our year-end tax stuff, and when she heard all the commotion she suggested I come over. Maybe that’ll take Genna’s mind off the whole thing.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I wish there was.”

Doug closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too. I’ve got to go.”

The phone went dead. Doug stared at it for a long time, his mind dull.