Sunsets (6 page)

They met regularly and talked on the phone daily. Alissa’s thoughts were filled with Thomas. What made it so intense was that they only talked. They didn’t touch. After all, he was a married man. They were both Christians. This was a spiritual friendship. She was helping him with his music, and he was helping her recover from her past.

Thomas taught Alissa about “forgiving God.” She had never heard that concept before in any of the churches she had attended. He explained that with all the painful experiences from her past, the only way she would be able to move forward was by telling God she forgave him for all the awful things he had allowed to happen to her.

At the time she had only slightly questioned his theology. Now she knew it was all backwards. It was the most damaging way of thinking she had encountered in her Christian life. It put her in charge, not God. But she didn’t realize how flawed that thinking was at the time.

Then came their debut.

Five weeks after they had met, Thomas had perfected two of his new songs and arranged for him and Alissa to sing together in church. When their harmonized voices filled that auditorium, Alissa had never felt so fulfilled. They were a hit. The thunderous applause showed they were blessing people, serving God together. Two weeks later they sang again.

Thomas was different from any other Christian man she had known. He put a “twist” on all the basics of Christianity she had been taught. She couldn’t understand why his wife had turned against him. What moved Alissa the most was when Thomas talked about how he longed for children of his own. He shared with her the intimate details of why that was never going to happen with his wife and how sad he felt that, at thirty-two years old, he knew he would never be a father.

The night after their fourth duet at church, Thomas walked Alissa to her car and asked if they could go somewhere to talk. They went to Alissa’s apartment. She fixed coffee, and Thomas cried. He confessed to her his deep longings for her. He wanted to leave his wife and marry Alissa. Together they would have the music ministry he had always dreamed of, and together they could have children. He made it sound so logical. Why would God want him to stay in bondage to an evil woman? God wanted him to be happy. He needed to be free of his wife to serve God.

Even now, sitting on her bedroom floor, Alissa remembered her response to Thomas. She had sat there, listening in horrified silence. As his words washed over her, she saw clearly,
for the first time, how intertwined she and Thomas had become. All of her illusions, all of her justifications and excuses melted away. She was left with the cold reality of what she had allowed to happen.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I was responsible for the breakup of your marriage,” Alissa told Thomas.

He had cried and pleaded, saying, “Don’t you see? You didn’t break up anything. My wife did. Years ago. You are the one who has brought life back to me. I can’t live without you.” He took her in his arms and wept on her shoulder.

Alissa knew what would happen next. After all these weeks of having a “spiritual” friendship, they were about to cross the line into a physical union. She, who had been physically pure ever since she had turned her life over to the Lord, was about to change that. Although she struggled fiercely with her impulses, the voice inside her heart spoke loud and clear, “No!”

With a strength that came from some place beyond her own frail flesh, Alissa pushed him away. She rose to her feet and firmly said, “I can’t do this, Thomas. I won’t.”

He crumbled, broken and lost. “What will I do? What will I do without you? You can’t do this to me!” He cried for what seemed like a very long time.

Alissa stood firm. “You need to leave. Now.”

Gathering himself together he headed for the door saying, “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Alissa. I don’t know if I can keep on living without you.”

With bars of steel protecting her bruised heart, Alissa had said, “I refuse to be manipulated, Thomas. You need to get your life together. I need to get mine straightened out, too. But not like this. Not the way we’ve been going. It’s not right.”

She opened the door for him to leave, and Thomas slumped against the doorway. “This is it then, isn’t it? You really mean it, don’t you? You won’t take me back.”

Alissa shook her head. All the strength and tenderness that had drawn her to Thomas had now turned to mush, and she wanted him and everything about him to vanish from her life. Without looking back, Alissa turned from Thomas, who was still crying. She disappeared inside her apartment. Then she bolted the door.

The next step had seemed simple to her. Phoenix was a big city. She was a big girl. She would find another church and avoid all married men. She had learned her lesson, as painful as it had been, and she was ready to move on. At least she hadn’t done something really stupid and fallen for his pleadings.

However, the next Sunday she slept in, and the Sunday after that and the Sunday after that. Then she went on a weekend cruise for work, and before she knew it, three months had passed, and she hadn’t visited any new churches. That was more than two years ago.

Now, with the box of clothes open before her, Alissa felt as if the Thomas experience had happened to someone else. That wasn’t she. The woman she was now would never have fallen for a man like that. It seemed so long ago.

Wiping the few tears that had come along with the memory and drawing in a deep breath, Alissa carried all four boxes of her Phoenix clothes down to her car and stacked them in the backseat. Tomorrow morning they would be in the Goodwill donation bin. That season of her life needed to be gone—from her closet and from her memories.

In every way, she was ready to move on.

S
unday morning dawned clear and warm, but Alissa stayed in bed. She was emotionally exhausted from reliving the Phoenix nightmare.

In a strange way, she knew she had begun to purge herself of the strong effect the events had had on her. By recalling everything from start to finish, she felt good about herself. She had done the right thing to move on with her life. If she knew a church to attend in Pasadena—a safe church—she probably would have ended her two-year hiatus and attended this morning.

Instead, she returned to her packing. But she continued her self-evaluation while she wrapped items and wedged them into boxes. Her inability to emotionally connect with anyone other than Chloe was probably the worst consequence of her Thomas experience. She trusted no one. And rarely opened up. What would it be like to have a roommate? Would Shelly want to talk late into the night, or would she be on the go so much
that they would only communicate through notes left on the refrigerator?

By Monday night, her questions were all answered. Shelly called Alissa at work and invited her to come to the duplex. Alissa arrived at 5:15 and knocked on the lower half of the dutch door. The top portion was open, and harp music floated from the heart of the duplex.

“Hi, Alissa?” Shelly scurried to the door with a dish towel in her hand. “Come in, come in.” The scent of cinnamon followed her.

Alissa liked her at once. Only a few other women had brought out that response in Alissa, including a girl named Christy, the innocent one who had shown Alissa the path to Christ.

Shelly resembled Christy in some ways. She had long, silky hair the color of a fawn’s. Her eyes were clear and a soft brown tone, arched by curved brows. Her smile was bright, and so was her outfit—a short green top and white cut-off jean shorts. And she was barefoot.

Alissa had worn a suit to work that day, hoping to appear professional and successful when she met Shelly. She had curled her hair, which now hung in a soft curl a bit past her shoulders. She had put in her contacts that morning, too. They tinted her eyes a cool shade of aqua.

Alissa felt this was a high school summer day all over again, and she was making a new friend.

“I’m so glad to meet you,” Shelly said, shaking Alissa’s hand and welcoming her in. “That’s a beautiful necklace. Did I tell you the credit check came through? No problem. Everything is clear. Did you see the bedroom last time you were here?”

Alissa had rarely heard anyone talk so fast yet still make sense. Shelly’s voice was smooth and clear. Alissa guessed she
was younger by about two years. Maybe three.

“No, I only saw the living room.”

“Well, then, let me take you on the grand tour. This is the kitchen. I was just cleaning up so don’t mind the mess. I was in a baking mood when I got home. Would you like a cookie? Snickerdoodles.”

“No thanks,” Alissa said. She noticed how much larger this kitchen was than the one in her condo. Shelly had a unique kitchen table that Alissa paused to examine.

“I made that,” Shelly said. “It’s not a tree stump. It just looks like one.”

A thick, ridged “stump” seemed to protrude from the linoleum floor and held up a round glass tabletop. A bowl of avocados sat in the middle of the table with a small mixed bouquet to one side. The chairs were black wrought iron with woven straw seats. It had to be the most unusual table Alissa had ever seen, and she loved it.

“This is wonderful! What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I found that stump thing at a junkyard and bought the glass top. The chairs came from an old patio set. I painted them, and a friend of mine strung the seats. If that’s what you call it. I don’t know what that kind of weaving is. She was taking a class, and this was her final project. Cool, huh?”

“Yes. Very fun. I like all your cupboard space.”

“Oh, this place is full of storage space. Let me show you the closets in the hall. And wait until you see the walk-in closets in the bedroom!”

They ventured down the hallway, and Shelly opened each door as they went. The first room was an extra large bathroom with a long window. The wooden frame around the window was painted a mossy green to match an old dresser in the corner that Shelly used for towels. On top of the dresser was a big
bouquet of flowers, and in the inset window frame was an arrangement of clear glass bottles with colored water in them, shooting rainbows across the white tile floor.

Everything about the duplex was lovely, and Alissa was amazed how the decorating matched her taste and her ideas of what was artistic.

Shelly opened the bedroom door at the end of the hall and said, “I hope you have a lot of furniture. This is the bigger bedroom. I was going to turn it into a sort of office-guest room but I never got around to it.”

They stepped into a gigantic, empty room. The walls were covered with travel posters.

“Sorry,” Shelly said. “I didn’t take those down yet. Genevieve said she would send a painter over to freshen this room up before you move in. I think he’s coming tomorrow. Or maybe it’s Wednesday. Anyway, if you have a specific color you’d like him to paint it, we could let Genevieve know. She wouldn’t mind at all. She’s terrific, isn’t she?”

Alissa nodded but found no words to voice her agreement. She felt choked up. It was as if some long lost relative had found her and was welcoming her into the family. It felt so different from any other living situation she had been in.

“Check it out,” Shelly said, pulling up the pleated shades to the two back windows. The room instantly was flooded with evening sunlight, and all the dust fairies came to life, dancing merrily on the hardwood floor.

“It gets pretty hot in here in the afternoons if you keep the shades up. But that’s only in the summer. The sun seems to be in just the right position between those two trees to pour itself into this room.”

Alissa stepped forward to examine the view out the back. It was beautiful: the grass, the rows of colorful flowers in Genevieve’s garden to the right, and straight ahead, the wooden
archway at the end of the brick path. She couldn’t ask for a more picture-perfect view and decided her desk would go right there, in front of the window.

With a smile and a heart full of contentment, Alissa turned to Shelly and said, “Well? I don’t know what else to ask.”

“Do you think we should maybe talk a little bit and see if we feel we’re compatible?” Shelly asked.

“That’s probably wise,” Alissa said. She couldn’t imagine them not getting along.

“Let’s go into the living room.” Shelly settled herself on the cushioned seat of her wicker sofa, among several embroidered pillows. Alissa took the chair by the window and felt the filtered sun warming the top of her head. The harp music lilted its way around them, and the bowl of bright red roses on the wicker coffee table gave off a sharp, spicy fragrance.

“You first,” Shelly said. “Tell me all about you.”

Something at the top of Alissa’s throat suddenly froze shut. She didn’t do this. People didn’t just freely step into her life. “There’s not much to say,” Alissa began. “I’m a travel agent, as you know. I’ve been at this agency for seven months. Before that I was at the corporate office of an agency in Phoenix. I was there about two years and in Atlanta before that.”

Shelly nodded and kept listening.

“I don’t know what else you’d like to know. I have one cat, Chloe, who goes with me wherever I go. My father was in the air force, so we moved a lot while I was growing up. I think that’s why I still like to travel today. I usually go on two trips a year. Sometimes three, if the agency pays.”