A Marriage Carol (5 page)

“You’re right about that. The lawyer Jacob found is cut-rate. The only reason he would stay with me is if he could save money, not because of love.”

“So you’re going through with the divorce even though you know it’s not the answer. You just don’t see another way out.”

Though I wanted to change the subject, I couldn’t. The old man had nailed my inner feelings. His questions led me further toward the hurt and betrayal I felt at my husband for not
seeing
me. Not noticing all I did to make our lives work. Of course Jacob felt the same way, that I had not fully engaged in the relationship for some time. That I had given up, disengaged. That my mind was else
where, even during lovemaking. Which was true.

“I know I’m not happy where I am,” I said. “And neither is he. Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be? We’re supposed to love each other. We’re supposed to complete each other. Isn’t there a verse that says God wants us to be happy?”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “There’s a verse that says Jesus came to give life and give it abundantly. But God doesn’t exist to make you and me happy. Some of the most committed followers of God I’ve ever met have been in miserable circumstances.”

“Good thing you’re not a pastor, because that kind of message wouldn’t exactly fill pews or the offering plate.”

He smiled. “True. But notice I said their circumstances were miserable. But they were content in their situation. They saw that God was working in them and through them in spite of what was happening on the outside.”

“Well, I don’t think God’s at work with us. He abandoned our marriage a long time ago. I’m just following Him out the door.”

“Are you
sure
He’s abandoned you?”

“What do you mean? You think God’s been working?”

“Maybe God has been closer than you know. Even
bringing you here suggests to me that there’s still hope.”

“I don’t know how many ways I can say it.
It’s over
. He’s picked out his apartment. I get the house and van and we share custody of the kids. Twenty years ago tonight we started this journey and it’s about to end.”

The man’s tired eyes lit up. “Tonight’s your anniversary?”

“Yes. In a snowstorm. We thought it would be romantic to have a Christmas Eve wedding. What were we thinking? We haven’t been able to celebrate our anniversary since our kids were born. Not that we would celebrate now.”

He stood and walked toward the fireplace. “Interesting. Twenty years ago tonight something pivotal happened. Something that changed your life. Twenty years later on the exact same date you’re making another pivotal choice.”

“It’s just a day on the calendar.”

“I’m not so sure. Dates are important. And there’s meaning behind a heavy snowfall. There’s power in it.”

“You’re losing me, here. What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen fake snow in movies. You can tell it every time you see it. The stuff blows around. Won’t stick.
But real snow does. And that’s what the world hungers for, something that sticks. Not something that’s tossed by the wind.”

The old man sat by the fire and stared at the crumbling logs. The flames flickered and glistened off the polished exterior of the golden pots and danced about the walls.

I tried to steer him from his tangent about the snow and focused on the utensils. “Those look old.”

He nodded. “They are.”

“What do you use them for? Popcorn?”

Again, his eyes twinkled. “Believe it or not, they’re used to help the hopeless. Marriages with no future. Couples caught in the web of the past and present.”

“You don’t let couples bang each other in the head with them, do you?”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” We both laughed and Rue padded down the stairs and jumped onto the man’s lap and snuggled.

“How can a couple of gold pots restore a marriage?”

“There are three, actually. I can show you how they can help, but there’s something I need from you first.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to be willing.”

“To do what?”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, eyes piercing mine. “To hope. To change. These pots will open a new world. You can’t be forced to look at them, but once you do, you can’t help but respond.”

“It sounds … strange.”

He dipped his head. “I’m sure it does. And I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see. But if you choose to, there’s something you have to do.”

“Which is …”

“Be willing to
believe
in your marriage. That a future together is possible for you and your husband.”

I shook my head. “I can’t go there. Not after all we’ve been through.”

He scratched the dog’s back. “I understand. But one more question. I asked if there was another woman in your husband’s life. But I haven’t asked you if there is another man in yours.”

My face flushed and I stirred up all the indignation I could muster. “I beg your pardon. Are you accusing me of something?”

He stared into my eyes.

“How can you accuse me of seeing another man when you don’t even know me?”

He put the dog on the warm hearth and stood. “You’re right. I’m meddling. Let me get the back bedroom ready for you.”

“No, I can’t stay.” I threw off the cover and stood. “I have to get home to my children.”

“Trust me. It’s too dangerous to try and make it off the mountain tonight. The roads are next to impassable. As soon as the phone line is restored, you can call your family.”

“What about your neighbors? Maybe their phones work.”

“I checked with the nearest one while I was out. They don’t have service either. I expect it might take a while to—”

In the middle of his sentence the lights flickered and went dark. Rue whimpered and jumped from the hearth.

There was still a faint, white light outside, but the entire house had gone dark. The man quickly went to the kitchen and returned with a flashlight and handed it to me. “Keep this with you. I have a few more just for such an occasion.”

“This is spooky,” I said.

“Oh, it happens often. Nothing to be worried about.”

“No, I mean, it’s weird. On our honeymoon the power went out. Not that we cared, but we were in the dark all night.”

The man was silent. I could tell something was going on in his mind.

“I need to check on my wife,” he said finally. “Then I’ll get the fire started in your room. It should keep you warm if the electricity stays off.”

STANZA 3:

The first-floor guestroom was past the kitchen at the back of the house, across the hall from the pantry. A brick fireplace covered one wall and more bookshelves lined the other. But the most arresting feature of the room was a four-poster bed complete with a canopy and curtains tied at the side. It looked like something out of some Victorian storybook. While the room was quaint and warm, I secretly wondered if this was where they placed the coffins.

The man saw me staring. “Everything in the house was donated. This bed came from a wealthy family. It was an heirloom from their grandparents.”

“Nice donation.”

“They felt indebted for the changes that came from their stay. They wanted to give back.”

He placed some newspaper under the wood already in the fireplace and lit a match. There were other logs stacked on the hearth, and he told me to add as many as I needed through the night.

“The kitchen is open for you. Anything you need, make yourself at home. And there’s a bell on the counter. Ring that and I’ll come … well, not running, but as fast as I can go. I’ll keep checking the weather through the night and keep an eye out for your husband.”

I picked up the phone but heard nothing but an annoying buzz. Rue padded in and cocked his head at me.

“It appears someone would like to keep you company. There are some treats in the pantry across the hall. A couple of those will keep him busy. He loves to curl up at your feet.”

“I’d like that,” I said. I picked up the tiny dog and put him on the covers. He looked up at me and made a token gesture of licking. When the man left, Rue jumped down and followed.