The Promise (27 page)

Before she could answer, Tom said, “We've been through a tough time. And I know it's not over yet. But I promise you, and I'm being as serious as our wedding day when I made my vows, I
will
become a better man. A better husband to you, a better father to our kids. Whatever I've got to do. You're worth it, whatever it takes. I know God wants this, and he'll help me to change.”

 51 

T
he house was finally quiet. Michele and Allan had gone home. So had Tom and Jean and the kids—thankfully, all together. Tom and Jean had been too exhausted to give a detailed update about their time on the beach, but it was obvious to Marilyn by the expressions on their faces that it had gone well.

God had answered their prayers, it seemed, in a big way.

Now there was only one thing left to do—make pancakes. Big fluffy pancakes with real butter and lots of genuine Vermont maple syrup. That's all Marilyn wanted to eat. Sometimes in life, that's all you needed. To appease Jim, she had agreed to include scrambled eggs and bacon. For him, the smell of bacon frying in the house accomplished the same thing as eating pancakes did for her.

She decided to text Doug to see which of the two comfort foods he wanted. Knowing him, he'd want full servings of both. She didn't feel like being alone, so she finished her text with the words, “Come on over and keep your mother company while I cook.” Jim couldn't; he was finishing up in the shower.

Ten minutes later, with the smell of bacon filling the downstairs and the first stack of pancakes on the plate, Marilyn heard
the back door open. Must be Doug, she thought. She turned around to find him standing there, texting on his phone.

He looked up. “Hey, Mom, smells great in here. Could you make me a plate with some of everything on it? If you don't mind, I'm not gonna eat with you guys.”

“Why not?”

“I'm kind of in the middle of something over there. I'd like to keep working on it.”

“What could be more important than eating pancakes with your mother?”

Doug laughed. “Well, it's just . . . I'm going to be so busy these next two weeks leading up to graduation, then the week after that I'm gone, heading off to college. Thought I'd get some of my packing out of the way. Just the things I won't be needing between now and then.”

Leaving? For college? In three weeks?

The words didn't penetrate at first. Doug's move had been nagging at her, but with all the craziness of this past weekend with Tom and Jean, she'd kept putting off thinking about it. Doug's plans to leave early for college, to start taking summer classes. For a moment, she just stared at him.

“I found a stack of empty boxes lined up on shelves on the far side of the garage,” he said. “Okay if I use them?”

Leaving. Doug is leaving us. He's leaving me. My little boy, he's going away. He won't be here anymore.

“Mom? Can I use those boxes?”

It's too soon. It happened too fast. I'm not ready for this.

“Mom? I think it's time to flip those pancakes. They smell like they're burning.”

I'm not ready for you to go.

“Mom?”

Doug's face, his beautiful face, blurred as tears welled up in Marilyn's eyes.

“Mom, are you okay? What's the matter?”

“It's nothing, Doug. I'm okay. I just need . . . I just need a minute.” She set the spatula on the counter, turned the burners off, and left the kitchen, heading for her bedroom. She passed Jim on the way.

“Marilyn? Are you okay?” He looked at Doug. “What did you say to her?”

She heard him reply, “Nothing. I just asked if I could use some boxes in the garage.”

She walked through the bedroom, into the bathroom, closed the door, and began to sob. “I don't want my baby to go, Lord. I'm not ready.”

The next morning, a Monday, Tom was called in to the Java Stop to work the breakfast and lunch shift. Business had been steady but nothing close to a rush. Right now, they were cleaning up after the breakfast crowd and prepping for lunch. The café was empty except for one young woman off by herself in the corner.

Tom was just mentioning to his crew that he was going on break when his phone rang. Hmm, he thought, it was Doug. Doug never called him. He answered the phone as he stepped outside. “Hey, little brother, what's going on?”

“I guess the real question is, what's going on with you guys?” Doug said. “I've been busy all weekend since Mom and Dad came home from their trip, but when I stopped in it seemed like big things were going on in the family. When I asked Mom and Dad, they gave me vague answers, but it was obvious, whatever it was, it has something to do with you guys. I tried calling Michele but just got her voice mail.”

“Well, at least you thought of me last.”

“No, it's not like that. It's just—”

“I'm just kidding, Doug. Don't worry about it. So, what do you want to know?”

“I guess, is everything okay? Are you and Jean okay?”

“We are now. But we've definitely come through a rough patch. It was mostly my fault. Really, all my fault. I'd be happy to tell you about it sometime, but it's kind of a long story. Not sure I want to give you the quick version over the phone.”

“No problem,” Doug said. “As long as you guys are doing okay. But I guess that explains some things. Like why Mom is so emotional right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know. Last night she kind of lost it on me. After everybody left, she started making pancakes.”

“Sometimes in life, you just need pancakes. That's what Mom always said.”

“Yeah. Well, I guess last night was one of those times. The thing is, she asked me to eat with her, but I was kind of busy packing up. You know, I'm leaving for college in less than three weeks. Taking summer classes.”

“I heard.”

“Anyway, she just burst into tears, left the kitchen with everything half done, and went to her bedroom. I waited for her, but she didn't come out for the longest time. Dad finally finished up what she was making and told me not to worry about it. He said she was just going through a hard time. I figured it had to do with what you all had just been through.”

“I don't know, Doug. My guess is that what you're describing had nothing to do with Jean and me.”

“Then what is it? Did I do something? If so, I'm clueless.”

How could Tom explain this? He didn't want to come off sounding like the older brother giving a lecture. “It's not so much something you did, but something you're doing.”

“What does that mean?”

“You're leaving, Doug. It's that simple. It's not wrong, not something you have to apologize for or feel guilty about. But it's a big deal for a parent, especially for a mom, when their kid leaves home. Especially when it's your last kid leaving.”

“You think that's what it is?”

“I know that's what it is. Think about it. For you, it's the start of this big new adventure. But for Mom, it's the end of an era. You won't be there anymore, and you're not just across the backyard in that apartment, you'll be an hour and a half away. It's a sad thing for a parent to go through. Even though they know it's right. When the time comes, it's just hard. Shoot, if I started thinking about little Tommy or Carly leaving home, I could get all worked up about it right now.”

Doug didn't answer for a moment. “I feel like a jerk now.”

“Why?”

“Just before she lost it, she asked me if I would eat with her. I told her I was kind of busy packing these boxes up. She said, ‘What could be more important than eating pancakes with your mother?'”

“Yeah,” Tom said. “That's not good. She was hurting pretty bad right then.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Just go out of your way to be kind to her, be patient with her now that you know what she's going through, and the next time she asks you to eat pancakes with her, don't say you're too busy. Even if you're not hungry . . . sit down and eat some pancakes.”

 52 

J
im and Marilyn meandered through their morning, totally exhausted from the weekend. It was hard for Marilyn to fathom how much progress had been made with Tom and Jean in the last few days. It felt more like a week had passed since they'd gotten home from Italy. She tried to focus mostly on that, not on how she felt about Doug leaving for college. Except for that situation, everything seemed to be leveling out in the Anderson family.

Jim was supposed to take the day off, but there was one important appointment he couldn't reschedule. He said it would only take an hour, but the poor thing had to get all dressed up for it.

She flopped down into the big overstuffed chair in the living room and looked at Jim as he came out of the bedroom in his suit and tie. That man still looked so good.

“Hey, hon,” he said. “When I get back, could we take a walk? There's something I'd like to talk about with you. It's kind of a big thing. A good thing, but a big one.”

She wasn't sure she was ready for any more big things right now. Even good ones. “Sure. I'll be right here.”

Two hours had passed.

Jim and Marilyn had just parked the car near the riverfront park in downtown River Oaks, the place where they'd had Allan and Michele's wedding last fall. Jim had suggested they come here. It was afternoon, but it was a cloudy day and the park was filled with shade trees. On the short drive here, he said he had something big to discuss with her and thought it would be nice to take a walk as they talked.

Jim let go of her hand, so he could use both hands as he unfolded what he had to say. “There's really two things. One small, and one huge. They both involve Tom and Jean. Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Give me the small one first.” They had reached the river, so they turned right and began to walk parallel to it. The breeze was much stronger here.

“Okay, I got this idea at Tom's house. Did you ever notice that picture they had hanging up in their hallway, the one with me, Tom, and my dad?”

“You said
had
; isn't it still there?”

“No, Tommy accidentally knocked it off the wall. But you know the one?”

“Yeah,” she said. “The one where you and your dad look mad? The one with the bent frame and broken glass?”

“That's the one. Well, I found out that Tom treasures it, like some kind of family heirloom.”

“Why?”

“I didn't realize this, but it's the only picture he has with my father in it. And I guess because I gave it to him after the funeral, he thought it was something special. Anyway, I had to burst his bubble a little and tell him the real story behind it. Then I thought, after all this talk about the crummy way my dad treated me, and the way I treated Tom, and how he started treating his family following the same bad example.
Well, I've repented of it, and he's now seeing it pretty clearly. So I thought, maybe—”

“Jim, that's a wonderful idea! You want to redo that portrait with you, Tom, and Tommy?”

“Well, yeah. That's the idea.”

“I love it. That will be so special.” She couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around him. “When do you want to do it?”

“I was thinking this Sunday, after church.”

“Here's an idea. Why don't we invite the whole family over? Allan and Michele can probably come.”

“And Doug,” Jim added. “I'll make sure Doug's there.”

“And we can even invite over Uncle Henry and Aunt Myra,” she said.

“You sure you're up for all that?”

“I think I am. I think the family gathering together for a happy time would do my heart some good. Why don't you tell me your big thing now?”

He reached for her hand and tugged gently. “I think you'll take my big thing better if you're sitting down.”

Uh-oh, she thought. This didn't sound good. She sat beside him.

“You don't need to worry,” he said, taking her hand again. “It's a good thing. At least, I hope you'll think it is after you hear me out. But I guess that depends on something . . .”

“Depends? On what?”

“Whether you had your heart set on having that big ol' house all to ourselves again once Doug heads off to college.”