The Color of Ordinary Time (10 page)

As I walked around the structure I started to pray. I don’t know exactly what I prayed for anymore. I had already prayed for Susan several times that night. Prayed that she would see her way clear to leave, or to stay, but to turn down my father’s proposal. I have no doubt that I prayed for her again, some more. I also prayed for my father. Prayed that if he did marry he would be kind to his wife. Prayed that if they did have children he would be a good father. Prayed that his wounds would be healed, and his burdens eased. Prayed, once again, that somehow things would become right between us.

I must have paced those grounds for hours, around the church, then over to look down upon the tiny homes of their community, then back toward the church. Finally, I stopped in front of the church again. A feeling came over me that I could not name. Not peace. Maybe acceptance. Call it the knowledge that I had done all I could do. The sun was not yet rising as I walked the pitted path back down the hill. I smelled burning wood as I started down the road toward the Brandt’s, and looked back over my shoulder at the church on Hiram’s Hill.

In that second, in the fading moonlight, the half-finished walls looked like they had survived a fire. My breath caught, even as the illusion faded. Probably some teenagers on a nearby farm closing down a party, and a bonfire. The smell lingered in my nostrils most of the way back to my bed.

The next day I didn’t make it downstairs until lunch. The Brandts teased me lightly about my laziness. All of them, except Linus, who watched me with sad and worried eyes. I assumed he was concerned about my night wanderings.

After lunch, Ivy and I took her car into town for a stop at the local bookstore, and then to the café for coffee, and huge chocolate sundaes made with handmade ice cream.

“So, I’ve been thinking about your problem,” said Ivy, as she took the cherry from the top of her sundae and popped it in her mouth.

“Oh, really,” I said thinking she was speaking of my father and his congregation.

“Sure. I’ve got all kinds of idea. You could be an on line tutor. Or maybe even teach on line classes somewhere.”

“Possible,” I said, realizing she was talking about the job I was beginning to dread.

“Or you love books. You could look into becoming a librarian.”

“Maybe.”

“I can see you aren’t sold, but how about this? I think you should get a second job,” she said mischievously.

“Ivy, I hardly have time for my first job.”

“This one would be great. You’d see new places, meet interesting people. You’d have a great time.”

“Alright, hit me.”

“You should be an ESL teacher. You’re totally qualified. You’d have students who really wanted to be there instead of wanting to burn you in effigy every time you gave a pop quiz. It would get you out of that little apartment a couple times a week. And you’d be the best at it, because you know every book ever written, and you could assign them things to read that would be interesting to them, not just things to read so they prove they can. I bet that’s the worst thing about having to learn a new language. Reading boring books.”

“I’d actually thought about that a little. I don’t know.”

“You would be great at it. You could use it so you could travel. Maybe take a year or two, and go to some exotic location and teach. I bet you’d meet some dark, tall, handsome man with a delicious accent and fall in love. He would sweep you off your feet and you’d never look back.”

I had to laugh then. “My life — romance novel, or green card marriage? Tragic.”

She laughed too. “You have always had all the luck.”

“Still, it’s a good thought. I’ll have to look into it more when I get back home. It would need to be the right sort of program. Not too many hours, not too many extra obligations.”

“You do think about it right?”

“Think about what?”

“About getting married,” she said.

“Not really.”

“Falling in love?”

“Nope.”

“But don’t you want...”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to, I don’t know, live happily ever after?”

“Nothing says I can’t do that alone,” I said.

“I know, but...”

“Think about it. What man in his right mind puts up with a father-in-law who shows up randomly, screaming about what a hell-bound whore his daughter is?”

“You could find someone who would. It’s not impossible. Lots of men are very understanding,” said Ivy.

“What marry a man who wouldn’t defend me and kick my father out of our lives? I would never. What kind of weenie are you trying to hook me up with?”

“Okay, so then find someone who would kick your father out of your lives.”

“What, marry a man who would isolate me from my family, and turn me against them? What kind of bully are you trying to hook me up with?”

She looked at me like I was half crazy. “But you just said... Oh, I see. You haven’t made the choice yet.”

“No, I haven’t. And until I do, what good am I in a relationship? None.”

“You could at least date, you know.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. I’d just be wasting my time and his.”

Ivy turned deeply and quickly angry with me. Her sense of right and wrong had been offended. “How can you not have made a choice, anyway? That’s ridiculous! He curses you, and calls you names. He takes money from you without so much as a thank you. As if you owe it to him. As if it’s his right. He hits you. He humiliates you, and you just keep taking it.”

“That’s not true. I don’t just keep taking it. I left, remember. And in a way, from the right perspective, I did owe him the money. It was his.”

“How? No. Don’t defend him to me.”

“When someone asks for your tunic, you give them your cloak too,” I said.

“There is so much wrong with that,” she sputtered.

“I know,” I said.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Ivy, as she stood up leaving behind most of her sundae as a testament to her upset.

“Okay.”

*

On the drive back to the Brandt’s Ivy was silent. Luckily it wasn’t a long drive. Once we arrived she deserted me without a word on the front lawn. I wasn’t surprised. Ivy and I had canvassed the topic many times. My continued love for my father was incomprehensible to her. I could hardly blame her. It was pretty incomprehensible most of the time to me, too.

Instead of following her inside, I walked around the house to the backyard and stood, thinking, for a moment. It was hot. Too hot to walk far, but the shade of the oaks and maples in the back yard was nice. I could happen out toward the barn, but I was dressed too nicely to help with any work going on out there. I could leave altogether, and take my own car back into town. Once Ivy calmed down — say in an hour or two — she would be apologetic. She always apologized, while still firmly holding her viewpoint. I would forgive her outburst, and we would go on. Her? Standards, expectations, and a code of honor. Me? Realities, practicalities, and facts.

Just as I was thinking I should find a lawn chair and a view to enjoy, John came thundering out of the house, the backdoor slamming behind him. He stomped across the back deck before spotting me. When he saw me he took a deep breath, and the flush started to leave his face.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“I’ve upset Ivy, and I’m staying scarce while she cools down. You?”

“I’ve upset my parents. Can I keep you company?”

“Sure.”

He came down off the deck and took my hand. “Let’s walk it off. Shall we?”

“As long as we stay off the road. Too much sun.”

“Perfect,” he said.

We walked out toward the meadow, and the trees and stream beyond. He seemed extremely tense, and kept grabbing my hand and squeezing it every few steps, all without looking at me. He just stared into the distance at some fixed point, like a man walking to his doom.

When we reached the trees around the drainage ditch he found us a rock and motioned for me to sit. I did sit, but he did not join me although there was room. Instead he started to pace a bit along the edge of the stream.

“I have to talk to you about something, Kay.”

“You know you can always talk to me, John.”

“I’ve been offered that job in Chicago. I want to take it. Mom and Dad are furious. They think I’m making a huge mistake. They think I should stay in the area and get established. They think I should live here, and work in St. Louis. The cost of living is better, even if I get an apartment in the city. I’d be closer to home. I can’t believe they won’t support me in this.”

As I watched him pace and rave, it was like watching a stranger. Even when he fought with Ivy, John was always calm, always logical. Mostly he was easy going, and almost peaceful in his outlook. I couldn’t think of another time I’d seen him pace, let alone give way to ranting in frustration.

“Okay, but why? They must have given you a reason why they think it is a mistake.”

He stopped and looked down at me searchingly. “They think I’m making the choice for the wrong reasons.”

“They may have a point. There are a lot of logical reasons to stay in the area. Especially if you have another job offer. Chicago is expensive.”

“I do have another job offer. And Chicago is expensive. But I was thinking I’d have a roommate,” he said seating himself next to me.

“Well, that would be a start. Still, have you done the math? Is the job in Chicago better for some reason? More opportunity to move up? Or maybe more pay?”

“You’re making it just fine on a teaching salary. You’re even saving.”

“True, but I’m unusually low maintenance. Most people want things like a newer car every few years, and a cell phone contract, and meals out, or nights on the town. I don’t go see first-run movies. I don’t even go to the coffee shop more than once a week. All those things add up faster than you think.”

“Yes, but if you’re doing it on one salary think of how much easier it would be to do it on two,” he said.

I felt like I’d skipped part of the conversation. “Wait, you were planning to move in with me?”

John slipped his arm around my shoulders. “No, Kay, of course not. I was... I was planning to marry you.”

His statement jolted me in to stupidity. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what he was saying. I just sat there looking at him, my mouth working like that of a goldfish. All that would come out was
glup, glup, glup.

“I know you’re surprised. But not
that
surprised, right? I’ve loved you for so long, Kay. I just couldn’t do anything about it until now. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask you to wait here for me. Or to come back here and live. But here we are. I could come to you. We could make a home. We could even buy that house sooner. Twice as much work, twice as much savings. Maybe coffee out twice a week. We’d be happy, Kay. I know we would. And you wouldn’t ever have to see your father again. You’d be safe with me. I’d take very very good care of you.”

For a second it felt like all the pieces falling into place. Of course he’d be good to me, and things would work out. For an instant, just a sliver of a moment, I almost said yes. Then the truth hit me, simple and clear. I didn’t love him. I never had. Not that way.

“John, I can’t. We can’t. I’d never in a million years be a good wife to you.”

His arm fell from around my shoulders, and he pulled back from me.

“I mean, it’s very sweet of you to want to marry me, and I’m flattered that you’d think of it. I don’t love you
like that
. And you don’t really love me
like that
. You’re trying to save me — and you can’t. I don’t need a white knight. I need my friend. And you don’t need a damsel in distress. You need a partner.”

“You think that, but it’s just that we’ve never dated. So just give it a chance. Kiss me. Or let me kiss you. Let’s have dinner together — tonight. Maybe see a movie. We’ll give things a little space to evolve,” he said.

I stood up and so did he. “No. It’s not going to happen, John. I am truly sorry.”

“That’s it, then?”

“You’ll look back one day and know I was right.”

“I’m going for a walk,” he said before moving around me to head out of the glen, then across the meadow toward the road.

I turned, and watched him go, hating that I’d hurt him. Just before he stepped into the meadow, he looked back at me.

“The day will come when you’ll regret this,” he said, and then was gone out into the sunlight.

“I already do,” I said to the trees.

Just like that, my vacation was over.

*

Back at the house Ivy was in her room, and all apologies when I burst through the door.

She straightened up from slipping on her shoes, “I was just about to come find you. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, Kay.”

“It’s okay. Help me pack. I have to leave. I’m sorry I can’t stay. Maybe you can come to Chicago later this year. We’ll make it up then.”

“What happened?” asked Ivy.

“John proposed, and she declined,” said Linus from the doorway of Ivy’s room. We jumped when he spoke. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me up the stairs.

Ivy looked at me for conformation.

“It’s true,” was all I could manage.

Ivy’s face fell. “Oh. Oh no.” She started for my duffle bag.

From behind me Linus came in, slipped a fatherly arm around my shoulders, and planted a fatherly kiss on my forehead. “He’ll get over it. You’re always welcome here, and he’ll get over it. By next summer, things will be back to normal. You’ll see.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

“You’re like a daughter to us Kay. You know that it’s not that we wouldn’t want you for a daughter in law too?”

“I know. John and I would just be bad for each other in the end.”

Ten minutes later, with hugs and reassurances from Linus, Dory, and Ivy, I was on the road home. At Litchfield I pulled over and had a good cry, followed by a chocolate shake.

When I got home, waiting for me was a large box from Ruth Ann. I dragged it inside with my duffle bag before closing the door with a sigh of relief. Then I took a shower and fell into bed. The next morning, I tripped over the box as I carried my first cup of coffee to my living room couch. Inside the box there was a short letter from Ruth Ann, and a large, green leather album.

The album contained picture after picture after picture of my mother. In each one she looked happy. In each one she looked promising. I closed the album after a minute, and set my coffee next to it on the coffee table. Then I called my grandmother to thank her for the best gift I’d ever received.

Ruth Ann and I talked for a long time. She told me the stories that went with the pictures. Stories of the birthdays, books, and boyfriends that I had never heard. Pam had been a late bloomer. She’d always wanted to travel. She’d been smart. She’d always loved music, but didn’t have a talent for performance. Just like me. Even though they weren’t the stories my mother would have told me about herself they started fill the part of me that had always been hungry for her.

After that, for a long time, things were ordinary.

Ivy sent me e-mail when she got back to Anna. She was safe, things were fine, John took the job in St. Louis. She told Dylan Morris that he’d deserted her once and she wasn’t interested in getting to know him. According to her, he took her decision gracefully. I wondered, but did not pry. Time would show if he had taken it well, or just put on a good front.

I e-mailed Pastor Brett,
Jeff
, and apologized for not saying good-bye. I did not tell him why, but when he replied to me, he seemed to know the story. Hardly a surprise. Someone, perhaps John himself, would have told all. I didn’t ask how he knew. Either way Jeff was full of the same reassurances as Linus. John would get over it.

For a while I expected Susan, or Jodie, or maybe both of them to show up on my front steps. Neither of them did. Then, in August, Jeff e-mailed me about local news in general, and added that my father and Susan had married in the completed church on Hiram’s Hill. It also seemed that Porter and his contingent had not left the congregation. Of course, Jeff didn’t have any details. I didn’t need them, anyway. I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. I was sure that Porter had been persuaded not to go only after Susan had agreed to the marriage. Having agreed, she could hardly back out. Jilting my father would have had the same consequences as not excepting in the first place. I doubted he even bothered to give her a graceful way out. Once a thing had been ordained by Walton Taylor there was no going back.

June slipped into July as I caught up on my reading, and researched various ESL programs. In July, Pastor Travers, at my home church of Zion, found me the perfect volunteer position as an ESL teacher: one night a week at a local Chinese-language mission church. I would start in September. I started curriculum research for the committee I was on at school. I looked over my lesson plans. July became August. I saw my friends, and took the ESL volunteer training. I talked with Ivy. She was occupied much as I was. She wanted to come up over spring break. I talked to my Grandmother — she wanted me to plan on Kentucky for Christmas. I agreed. August became September. Back to class. All of it normal. All of it straightforward.

Then October came around. ESL was going very well. Ivy had been right. I loved teaching the class. It gave me the positive experience I needed to keep plugging away at my day job, and with more satisfaction. Perhaps even more than the teaching, I loved the authentic Chinese meals that followed the classes. I even learned how to make dumplings, sitting at a long table with all the students and teachers around me making dumplings together. After that, well...

The next time I heard from my father — in any way — was a desperate call from Susan that came as I was walking out the door for my Saturday-morning foray to my favorite coffee shop. I thought about letting my machine pick up for a second, but stopped and picked up the phone.

“Keziah, it’s Susan. Can you come to Charity?”

“I guess I could. I hadn’t planned on being down that way again until December.”

“I don’t mean for Christmas. I mean now.”

“What has he done now?”

“He hasn’t done anything now,” she said.

“Susan.” I heard the hard tone in my voice. I didn’t care.

“Two nights ago there was a thunderstorm. Our church was hit by lightning and mostly burned down. After the flames were put out Walton went in and sat down in the ruins. He’s barely moved since, and not at all since yesterday. We can’t get him to come out. He won’t talk to us. I need you to come down and help.”

I almost said, “Ah, the shaman’s curse.” She wouldn’t have found it amusing, or perhaps wouldn’t have known what I was talking about. So, instead, I said, “I don’t think so Susan. If you can’t budge him, there is nothing I can do.”

“Please, Keziah, just come down and try. I can’t leave him out there another night in the cold. He’ll freeze. He’s not all that well just now.”

“He’s a grown man. If he really wants to freeze to death, I can’t stop him.”

“Keziah.” The tone of command she tried to take didn’t suit her sweet voice. I almost laughed at her attempt.

“If I come, you have to understand:
this is absolutely the last time
. I’m not going to run down there at his every whim. I won’t be giving into any more of these phone calls for your
sake
, either. The two of you have made your choices, and I’ve made mine. Enough is enough.”

“That’s fine. Hurry,” said Susan.

Fifteen minutes later I had packed an overnight bag, and was on my way to Charity.

*

Five hours later, I stood nervously on the front porch of St. Paul’s parsonage. I had gotten to town... and gone chicken. I didn’t want to go out to Hiram’s Hill by myself. Ivy was in Anna. John was in St. Louis (and out of the question, in any case). We hadn’t communicated at all since that horrible day in June. There was only one real choice. I rang the doorbell.

“I need back up,” I said to Jeff when he opened the door.

He looked down at me in total shock at finding me on his front porch. “Keziah? Is this about the fire?”

“Yes. Susan called. She wants me to take a shot at getting him to come out of the structure.”

Jeff nodded. “I had heard something like that was going on.”

“Will you come with me? I can’t be out there alone.”

“Sure. You want to drive, or shall I?”

“I will,” I said.

Jeff nodded. “Just let me grab a jacket.”

*

I parked my hatchback under a maple tree just going orange, and got out of the car at the bottom of Hiram’s Hill. Jeff got out too.

“Am I coming up too, or do you want me to wait here?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind waiting here,” I said.

“That’s fine.”

“But... if I’m not back in a half hour or so, come get me.”

“Sure thing.”

I noticed as I walked up the hill that even though it had been a warm day, and it was not yet evening, the air had begun to cool. The grass was damp, but the ground was not muddy, making the climb much easier. I was surprised to see that they hadn’t done anything to put a stair up the hill, or even make the road more even. When I reached the top, Susan and Porter stood waiting for me outside the burned out shell of the church. It had been hard to tell from the road, but the wall that held the cross which hung over the pulpit still stood, barely, and half of the wall on my right still stood. The roof was entirely gone. The pews and floor were charred, and covered in ash.

Susan, now wearing the dark grey dress of a married woman, and looking even more beautiful if it was possible, hurried forward to greet me.

“Bless you, Keziah.”

“How’s it going, Susan?”

Susan’s eyes met mine for an instant. I tried to see the truth there for a moment, and failed. “He’s a good husband, Keziah,” she said.

“Porter,” I said.

“Keziah,” said Porter.

We stood in silence for a minute, then I moved up the wooden steps of the church. I didn’t see my father at first. The black of his shirt hid him well in the blackened church. When I did spot him, I saw he sat hunched over in what was left of the front pew; as if in prayer, or pain. I moved forward gingerly, picking my way through pieces of fallen ceiling. There was room next to him on the first pew, so I sat next to him gently, slowly. The abused pew creaked, but held. For a while we sat there not looking at each other, not touching. I could hear each breath he took, but not my own. It was odd.

“It will rise again. Gloating over this setback would be a mistake,” he said at a whisper.

“I don’t doubt it will.”

He snapped back, “It’s God’s will.”

I remained quiet. I wasn’t about to get sucked into an argument over God’s will.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after a few deep breaths. He sat up straight, looking at me.

“Susan called. She’s worried about you. Thinks you’ll freeze or starve sitting out here.”

“So she called you?”

“Desperate times,” I said.

He scowled. “I will have a word with her when I’m done here.”

“No need. I made it clear this was the very last emergency call I was making,” I said.

His scowled deepened. I was not playing my role, and I didn’t care.

“So, while I’ve got you here, let me ask you this. You always taught me love was a choice we make over and over again. That the emotion wasn’t the point, that the action was the point. So I have to ask myself why you chose not to love me? Was I so misbegotten from the start that you couldn’t bring yourself to take action on my behalf? You owed me the truth, and you didn’t even give me that. How is that love? And if you didn’t love me, you could at least have left me with people who would have loved me. It didn’t have to be this way. We didn’t have to be this way.”

“You’ve been talking to them. You’ve defied me again, and been talking to that woman and her son.” His words were harsh, but not full of disbelief. Having defied him in every other way, it was hardly startling that I would defy him in this, as well.

“My grandmother, and my uncle. Yes, I have talked to them.”

“Too late you will realize I gave you the only truth that matters, and you rejected it. Just because my love didn’t come in the form of action you would have chosen doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Do not speak to me about love and truth. Your heart is hard and dark. You are damned.”

“That may be. But even I know what the love of a father looks like. What actions a loving father takes for his child.”

“What do those actions look like? Like the actions of Linus Brandt? Is he your ideal?”

His words were too close to home. I flinched.

“Yes, that’s it. Supporting his whoring daughter while magnanimously looking the other way. I’m
so cruel
not letting you play the harlot while spending money to put a roof over your thankless head.
So mean
not paying for you to run off to college where you could sleep with whomever you wanted.
So hateful
not letting you have your own way. A good father raises a child in the way she should go!”

There was no argument I could offer to counter him. No proof of my virtue would be enough. Even had I been willing to try and prove my virtue, the condition of my heart would still be in question. My soul’s condition would be, as always, unfit in his eyes. Why argue?

I rose from the pew, as calmly as I could, and started back up the debris-strewn center aisle. He was after me as quickly as he could manage. He wasn’t moving fast. I imagine he was stiff from all the sitting he’d done.

“You will come to fear hell too late. You will look back and wish you had stayed and been obedient. The day will come, and the angels will weep for your soul. Remember when that day comes that I warned you. Remember that I tried to save you. Remember...”

At the place where the door had once been I stepped out of the church and walked down the stairs. He stopped at the top of the stairs and continued his rant.

“...this day and tremble with the knowledge of your fate. You are going to Hell.”

Turning back to him, I looked back up at him. “You are going to be very surprised who you see in Heaven.” I walked back down the hill, leaving the three of them at the top, silent and still behind me.

I found Jeff leaning on my car when I got to the bottom. He smiled as I got close. “How’d it go?”

“Dreadfully. But It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what I know.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m not going to live this everyday, anymore,” I said, a second before realizing that I was telling the absolute truth.

He took my hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Even better.”

“We should go.”

“Dory and Linus want us to stop for dinner with them, if you’re game. John isn’t there.”

“How’d you talk to Dory and Linus?”

Jeff reached into his jacket and pulled out a cell phone before waving it under my nose.

“Of course,” I said, smiling at myself. “Dinner sounds good.”

I glanced back at the church on Hiram’s Hill before getting in the car. I knew then I would never set foot on that hill again.

*

Every Sunday two billion Christians worldwide pray for the end of the world. I’m sure most of them don’t even think about it. It is so much a part of what they do every week. So many words on a page. So many words mumbled while they think about their football game, or getting lunch on the table, or when the service will be over, and why the air conditioning isn’t turned up further. It’s right there in the Lord’s Prayer:
Thy Kingdom Come
. Those words mean we want Jesus to come again, to take us all to heaven because we’re saved.

Of course, in not thinking about it too hard, we avoid thinking about what that really means. There’s the good part of the meaning where we go to live with Jesus forever. There’s also the sad part of the meaning, where we believe that there are people who may not go to live with Jesus forever. And then there’s the scary part of the meaning, where we have to ask ourselves how sure we are that we’re in the first group.