Any Minute (35 page)

She wasn’t asking for the strength to get out of her job, but for the strength to rely on God, who wanted to show her a place of self-esteem in his love. She prayed that she’d be able to talk to Tom and draw a boundary based on respect; this, instead of self-centered needs that hadn’t been met in her childhood.

“Hey, Leo,” she said when she got back to her desk. “I’m headed up to Roscoe’s office. Don’t wait on me, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

“Nah,” she said. “Thanks again for your hard work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When Sarah arrived on the twenty-fourth floor, she found Rona still typing furiously on her computer. Rona glanced up with a harried expression. “Oh good. There you are. He’s been waiting to hear from you.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s on the phone right now. I’ll let him know you’re out here if you’d like.”

Sarah noticed the deep circles beneath Rona’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Fine.” And then in a fit of candor, “I’m just really, really tired, that’s all. I just need to rest and he”—she indicated Tom’s office door—“he’s always got another project for me.”

No sooner had Rona texted her boss than Tom appeared at the door, still on the phone, and waved Sarah in. Still deep in conversation, he pantomimed for Sarah to take a seat.

Oh, Father. I give you all my fear and resentment and insecurity, everything that made me work without balance in the first place. I give you everything that made me put impressing Tom Roscoe and others like him before Joe and the kids.

At first Sarah’s hands were trembling. But by the time her boss hung up the phone, she felt calmer, more certain of herself. She leaned forward and explained that she couldn’t make it to the meeting later because she had a previous family commitment.

“It’s family,” she told Roscoe. “There’s nothing more important to me than that.”

As Tom Roscoe’s face contorted with disbelief, she explained that she was learning what to say yes and no to. “I’m good at this business,” she said. “Maybe not the best, but certainly not the worst either. I’d like to be at your meeting, but that means you’ll have to reschedule.”

“You’re asking me to arrange my calendar to fit into your timetable?” he asked.

“I am. I cannot keep putting my job before my family. If I do, I’m going to lose them, and I refuse to do that.” Then she got really brave and said, “Tom, I realize God has not been pleased with the choices I’ve made. I have put myself and what I want to do before anything else. I mistreated people here at the company. I used them to get what I wanted, and I refuse to do it any longer.”

“Sarah,” Tom said with his face as red as a beet, “I’m sure you are well aware that there are a dozen MBAs waiting in line for every job that opens up in my company. Do you have any idea how easy it would be to fire—”

She interrupted him quickly to make sure she got to say everything that was on her heart. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. “I like working here, Tom, and I believe I can be a benefit to you, but from now on, if I have made a promise to my family and you need me to work late, they will come before my job.” Then she decided to dump everything on him while she had his attention. “Furthermore, I won’t do anything even remotely dishonest to get, keep, or take revenge on clients. I really hope I don’t have to leave and become your competition, but I have confidence that I can be a success even if I do have to work someplace else. Even if I need to start my own business.”

Nobody had ever talked to Tom Roscoe like this, and she might be the last person to try, but Sarah had made up her mind—he could see that on her face. As she looked into his eyes, she thought she saw anger turning into respect.

His tone of voice remained firm. “Why don’t you go home for now? We’ll see what we can work out.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

J
oe Harper was miserable. Every time he looked at Sarah, he remembered how he’d felt when he thought he’d lost her. He remembered how his heart had clamped up every time the divers appeared on the surface of the water and signaled they hadn’t found anything. He lived it in his dreams—the terrible wait as, over and over again, the searchers came up empty.

It seemed impossible that the two of them could be living a regular life now, with Sarah beside him in bed every night. He still felt as if she was separate and missing from him even after all that had happened.
Will it ever end? Will we ever be able to have an honest, open relationship?
he wondered.

It was worse because other things seemed to be going well for Sarah. She’d been arriving home from work on time and she’d made it to Mitchell’s Cub Scout banquet last night and she’d even spent time with Kate and Mrs. Pavik. But she made no effort to make things better with
him
.

When he walked in the door from his work at the auto shop, he saw her eyes darken and her chin lift in defiance. When he sat on the edge of the bed and got ready to climb in at night, he saw her whole body go stiff.

On Saturday afternoon, while she stood putting on mascara in the mirror, Joe finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer to talk to her. As he stood behind her, watching her reflection, he longed to put his hands on her shoulders. But just in time, he thought better of it.

When her eyes met his in the mirror, they were blazing. “What?” she asked. “What do you want?”

Not until he noticed his own eyes in the glass did he realize they were filled with fear.

I want to not be afraid that I’m going to lose you.

I want to not be afraid of the question Pete asked.

I want you to tell me you didn’t do it on purpose.

“I want to know whether you made that split-second choice because you wanted to get away from yourself or because you wanted to get away from me. I have to know if you really had an accident or if you went off that bridge on purpose.”

He saw her reaction, saw that his words had shocked her, but he was determined to get an answer. He was not going to live any more days in this cold silence that lingered between them.

“I want,” she said very carefully, “for you to stop telling me what you want. Can’t you see that I’ve changed? Can’t you see that I’m trying?”

Neither of them saw the little boy listening, crouched in the corner with his baseball cap turned backward, trying to figure out a way to make his mom and dad stop fighting. They remained so consumed with themselves that they couldn’t see beyond their own world of pain and hurt. Here at home, with so much at stake, Sarah and Joe found it impossible to stop demanding and start giving.

It was the schnauzer whimpering at the door that finally made Sarah realize something must be wrong. Sarah carried Kate to the front door and looked out, trying to figure out why their dog was standing at the front door whining.

“What’s out there, Kate?” she asked her daughter. “Do you see anything? Mitchell? Do you know what’s making this dog so crazy to get out in the yard?”

There wasn’t an answer from Mitchell.

“Mitchell?” Sarah called, immediately heading toward his room. Then, “Joe, did you give Mitchell permission to play outside? Joe?”

But Joe didn’t answer either.

After their heated exchange had ended earlier, Joe must have stormed out, anxious to put distance between them. Sarah opened the door to the attached garage and called his name again. She found him folded under the hood of the car, the place he always went to escape her. He straightened, the socket wrench still in his hand.

“I’m worried,” she said. “The dog’s going nuts. And I can’t find Mitchell.”

Joe mopped the grease off his hands with a rag. “I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”

Sarah’s voice started to rise. “He isn’t, Joe. I’ve already looked.”

Joe’s old television blared the Cubs game from the corner. Joe turned it down and called for his son.

“Did you tell him he could go somewhere?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Joe shook his head. “No. I never told him anything. I haven’t seen him in, what?” Joe checked his watch. “An hour maybe?”

Even though Joe had turned down the television, the crowd noise from Wrigley seemed to fill the entire room.

Sarah froze. “The Cubs are playing right now?”

“They are.”

“Oh, Joe.”

“I don’t know where he could—What?” He looked at his wife, uncertain of what she was getting at. He couldn’t have been more confused. Then, suddenly, he knew.

“How long has the game been going on?” Mitchell’s words raced through Sarah’s head. The day he’d said at the clothing bin, “This man is our friend. I saw him at the Cubs game.”

“A while.”

“Do you remember when Mitchell asked you all those questions about the guy he thought was an angel? That man he told you he thought was helping God?”

Joe nodded.

“Where was he?” Sarah asked. “Where was that man when Mitchell saw him at the ballpark?”

Joe paused. “He was up in the scoreboard where he could look down on everything. That’s why Mitchell thought—”

But Sarah interrupted him as she flung her coat over her arm. “Get the car keys, Joe. I know where he is. We have to get to Wrigley.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s gone to find Wingtip.”

“Who’s Wingtip?”

“I’ll tell you on the way,” she said, urgency flooding her voice. “Please, Joe. There isn’t any time to waste.”