In His Dreams (10 page)

Barb sat outside, writing as if she’d found her life’s purpose and, when Marsha had asked if she could read some of the book, Barb had said no. The response had smarted, but Marsha realized the novel meant more to Barb than she could even fathom.

Jeff had faded from her life again. She knew it wasn’t his friend keeping him busy. The man and his daughter weren’t due to arrive until next Sunday.

The clock seemed to inch its way through the hours. Morning had nearly passed with no plans for the day. She’d tried to relax, but it didn’t happen. Her neck craned each time she heard a noise, and she found herself running to the window like someone’s pet to see if the owner had come home.

Enough, she thought, striding to the kitchen and tossing the dust cloth beneath the sink. She charged into her bedroom and slipped on a bathing suit. At least she could enjoy the water. The day seemed perfect with a gentle breeze and a bright sun.

She grabbed a towel and marched onto the deck. “I’m going for a swim.”

“It’s a nice day for it,” Barb said, glancing away from her legal pad, her hand covering the writing.

Marsha descended two steps when the telephone’s ring sailed through the screen. Her body jerked and she turned to climb the stairs and dart into the house. Instead, she stopped herself. “Get that, will you?”

Barb gave her a look, as if to say
you know it’s for you,
but Marsha didn’t care. She pushed her feet through the sand and, as she reached the beach, Barb’s voice flew from the deck. “It’s Jeff.”

“Tell him I’m swimming.” She dropped her towel on the lawn recliner and bounded into the cold water. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh, but she wasn’t going to stop. She’d been sitting by the phone, wondering what was wrong this time, and she’d had enough of waiting.

She reached waist high, then dived into the water, paddling until her body adjusted to the temperature. Finally, the water felt balmy, and she dug her hands into the small waves and headed out where the color changed to a deeper blue.

When she rolled onto her back and looked toward the house, Barb had vanished from the porch, and she knew she’d made her statement. She wasn’t sitting around waiting to be entertained by Jeff. Who needed him, anyway?

The question felt empty and self-pitying. Bonnie needed him desperately and, if Marsha were willing to admit it, she needed him, too.

B
onnie’s fists beat against the table, and Jeff clenched his teeth. She’d done so well he’d been startled today when she threw another tantrum. Just like old times. His spirit sank as he stood in the doorway and watched her.

“Bonnie, Aunt Marsha is busy. I can’t make her be home when I call.”

“She’s swimming, you said,” she screamed.

“Yes. That means she’s in the water and not in her house.”

“I want to go there.”

So do I, he thought as he struggled to remain calm. “Are you hungry? Maybe she’ll be back in the house if we eat something and then try again.”

Bonnie kicked at the chair legs, and he wanted to shake her into submission, but he couldn’t do that. He loved her and he understood her scenes were part of her illness, but living with her outbursts hanging over his head had taken its toll. Keeping his cool was getting harder and harder.

Jeff ignored her kicking and went to the refrigerator. His appetite had disappeared with her display, but he needed to do something. Jeff studied the choices and pulled out a package of ham, a head of lettuce and a loaf of bread.

The kicking noises stopped as he removed two whole-wheat slices from the package and retied the end. He sensed Bonnie was watching him as he pulled out slices of ham from the cellophane and folded them on top of the bread.

“What about me?”

He turned around as if surprised. “You? I didn’t think you were hungry.”

“I am.”

He slid the bread wrapper along the counter. “Get out your slices, okay?”

Bonnie sat there, confused, he assumed. He’d always made her sandwiches, but, now that he thought about it, the time had come for Bonnie to take on some responsibility. She was nearly twelve and she needed to learn some simple tasks. He’d sheltered her way too much.

Jeff glanced at her over his shoulder, and she finally hoisted herself from the chair with a dramatic huff, untied the bread sleeve and pulled out the two pieces.

“Here you go.” He handed her two slices of meat, knowing he should have told her to wash her hands, but her cooperation was going too well and the command would probably arouse another fit of temper.

Showing her, he draped the slices on his bread, and Bonnie did the same.

He tore a hunk of rinsed lettuce from the head and handed her a couple of leaves. She placed them on the meat without direction.

“Want some mustard or mayo?” He waited for her to answer.

“Mayo.”

“Could you get the jar, and I’ll get the knife.”

Bonnie strutted to the refrigerator and pulled out the jar. As he watched her return, he sensed a look of pride on her face. He’d never given her the opportunity to make her own sandwich. The fact startled him. He’d been treating her like a baby and not the young woman she was becoming. How did he expect her to change if he didn’t change with her?

When he returned the other items to the fridge, he grasped two drinks and flipped open the pop lids, then handed one to Bonnie. They walked together to the table, sitting across from each other, eating as if the tantrum had never happened. He blinked his eyes, making certain this scenario had been real and not a dream. He wished he’d realized this long ago, but it had taken Marsha to make him aware that his daughter was no longer a child, despite her childlike behavior.

As he ate, he made a decision. He wouldn’t call Marsha. It was too easy for her to ignore him. After he’d cleaned up and before Bonnie could begin to nag, Jeff told her what they would do. “Let’s go to Aunt Marsha’s. She’s probably done swimming by now.”

“Yeah!” Bonnie jumped from the table and gathered her paints and sketchbook before he could get his thoughts together.

Tension knotted his arms as he drove to Marsha’s cottage. All she could do was snub him or say she was busy. The idea of being rebuffed set him on edge. Yet he’d done the same to her by not calling for the past three days.

When he pulled into her driveway, he’d barely shifted into park before Bonnie unlatched her seat belt and darted into the house. He stood next to his car feeling like an outsider looking for a handout. He’d caused the distance himself. He needed to decide what to do and stick to it.

Standing outside the door a moment, Jeff listened to the reception Bonnie received. Barb commented on Bonnie’s latest drawing, but he couldn’t hear Marsha’s voice. He strolled around the side of the A-frame. The deck was empty, and he looked down to the beach. The tall grass blocked the view. Instead of guessing, Jeff strolled down the sandy path and, as he neared the bottom, he could see Marsha stretched out on a recliner.

“Hey,” he said as his feet hit the sand.

She opened her eyes, squinted against the sun, and sat up, grasping sunglasses to cover her eyes. “Hello.”

Her
hello
had a careful tone, and he wished she’d left off the glasses so he could see the look in her eyes. “Barb said you were swimming.”

“I was.” She swung her legs over the edge of the chair and pulled her towel over them. “Barb mentioned you’d called.”

“Bonnie wanted to go back to the lighthouse, but I thought about taking her down to the south end of the island to the Beaver Head Light. I’d hoped you’d like to come along.” He thought about a picnic, but the delay had ruined that idea.

“I’m not dressed.” She waved her hand over her towel.

“I noticed.” He managed a smile, hoping it looked natural, but the conversation seemed far from that. “Can I sit?” He motioned to the space on the recliner.

She shifted a few inches, and he sat beside her, fearing the chair might tip if he put his full weight on the webbing. He felt uneasy, but he wanted to be close to her.

“I guess I was uncomfortable that I’d kissed you, Marsha. It was easy to see that it upset you, and—”

“I told you the kiss didn’t upset me.”

Her voice sounded timid, and he tilted his head to see her face. Take off those glasses, he wanted to say, but didn’t. “But you withdrew from me, not physically, but I sensed it.”

She looked down and fingered the towel, making pleats with the edge. “It’s a lot of things. The kiss was lovely.”

Lovely? She sure hadn’t let him know that.

“But it doesn’t seem right, and I’m confused.”

That made two of them. She confused him much of the time. “Confused about what?”

She gave a shrug. “What this all means, I guess. I’m not sure what you’re thinking and I certainly don’t know what I’m thinking—except this seems too much like a summer roma—”

The word faded, but he figured she’d started to say
romance
and was embarrassed calling their friendship that.

“It’s a longtime friendship. Isn’t that what we’ve said?” he said.

“Not if you kiss me.”

This time he lowered his head. She was right, but that was what he’d wanted to do. He recalled the soft touch of her warm lips even for the brief moment that it lasted. He nodded. “You’re right.”

“I don’t think either of us is ready for anything but friendship.” She pulled off her sunglasses, and he could finally see her eyes.

The questioning look twisted through his thoughts. He didn’t know what he felt, but whatever it was, it felt right and good. He didn’t want to lose her friendship, but he yearned for more, and the situation chafed in his thoughts until he felt raw. “I like you, Marsha. I care about you. I don’t want to do anything that will ruin what we have…. Whatever it is.”

Her gaze penetrated his. “I don’t, either. Can we have fun? Can we—” She seemed to struggle with her thoughts. “Can we go on as special friends until we have time to sort out what’s happened?”

“That’s what I want.” He slipped his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb across the soft skin between her thumb and index finger.

“Is this just a summer fling? How did things change between us?”

Her questions shot through his brain and weighted his mind. “We’re not the same, anymore. We’re single. We weren’t years ago. I never would have cheated on Marilou and I know you were dedicated to Don, but—” He hesitated to speak his thoughts. “But I always found you attractive.”

“Sometimes I thought Marilou should have married Don. They were so suited to each other, but I loved her and I know she loved me.”

“For better or worse,” Marsha said, releasing a ragged breath. “We never know when we say those vows exactly what that means until the worst happens. Then we have to cling to those vows and to the Lord.” She lifted her gaze. “I always cleaved to God’s promises.”

Jeff felt the prickle of admission wanting to come out. He’d read those few words in the Bible. Now he knew exactly what Marsha meant. “We suffer a while, knowing things will get better and the trials strengthen faith.”

Her head snapped toward him with a questioning expression. “That’s right. If everything turned out the way we expected or wanted, we’d have heaven on earth. Sin destroyed that, so we live with sin, which means we have problems and disappointments, but, through it all, we know that heaven is there waiting for us when everything will be perfect. God planned for the fall.”

That threw him. “What do you mean, He planned for the fall? He could have stopped it?”

“Do you want Bonnie to love you because she chooses to or because she has no choice?”

Jeff drew back, trying to understand where she was going with the question. “You know the answer.”

“God feels the same way. He gave us free will. We can make choices. Sometimes we make bad ones, but, when He made us in His image, He knew He also needed a plan to give us heaven no matter which choices we make. So He gave us Jesus to die for our sins so that we might have eternal life—that perfect world He’d wanted us to have all along—if we accept Him.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is when you put it in His hands.”

He leaned back and watched the waves pulsate to shore. In the distance, a large freighter headed toward Chicago. The ship’s captain knew his course, yet he prepared for emergencies. Maybe that was what God had done.

“Look at that, Bonnie,” Marsha said as they climbed from the car. Two women sat in folding chairs on the concrete parking lot with canvases resting on their knees, one with her paints on a small folding table and the other on an upside-down milk carton.

“They’re painting.” Bonnie gathered her sketchbook and paints while Jeff hauled a lawn chair from the car trunk.

Marsha noticed he hadn’t thought to bring a table for her paints and she stood a moment, hoping to get creative, but, before an idea came, Bonnie had already engaged the two women. One of the ladies shifted her palette to the edge of her table and made room for Bonnie.

Jeff hurried over to the woman, and Marsha could tell he was apologizing. When she joined him, the woman had already insisted she had plenty of room.

The lady obviously realized that Bonnie was not a typical child, yet seemed to treat her as if she were.

“See my pictures?” Bonnie said, shoving her sketchbook toward the woman.

Jeff tried to intervene, but the lady took time to look at the paintings and praised Bonnie. The girl glowed with pride, then settled into her chair and set up her paints. Jeff returned to the car and brought back the small jar of water he’d thought to bring along.

Marsha stood behind Bonnie watching her sketch the lighthouse with a pencil, but Marsha’s mind was filled with what had happened earlier. Jeff had surprised her with his comments about faith, and she wondered if he had actually looked at the Bible as she’d suggested. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so she’d kept the question silent, but she suspected he might have.

She shifted her attention to the lighthouse, following the yellow stone to the glass dome at the top and the clear blue sky above.
Thank you, Lord.
If Jeff had read even a little, it was a beginning. An important beginning.

Marsha felt Jeff standing beside her, his arm hanging at his side so close to her, if she reached out she could touch his hand. Recently, she’d felt comfortable holding his hand. The kiss had been a different matter. She couldn’t get involved with Jeff more than she’d done already unless he was a true believer. It wouldn’t work.

It might not work, anyway, she realized. She had no idea what it was that drew her to Jeff. She felt comfortable with him. He’d known her when life had been different, and that made their friendship so much deeper than if she’d just met him at church or on a blind date.

Blind date. What a silly phrase. She’d had a few friends, especially happily married women at church, try to hook her up with nephews or in-laws or neighbors. She’d always said she wasn’t ready, but now she wondered if that had changed. Perhaps that was why her heart seemed to thunder when Jeff came around. Everyone liked a little special attention, and Jeff had certainly given her that.

Jeff gave her arm a poke and tilted his head toward the lighthouse. “Walk?”

She nodded.

“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Jeff said, leaning over Bonnie. “Will you be okay for a while?”

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look up.

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” the other woman who had her paints on the milk crate said.