The Promise (20 page)

 37 

T
he next day, a Saturday, Marilyn drove into the quaint downtown section of River Oaks, right past Odds-n-Ends, the little store where she worked. She was excited to get back into her routine, which began on Monday. She wondered what kinds of things Harriet, the owner, had ordered since she had left for Italy. All kinds of new summer goodies. She couldn't wait to see them.

She angled into an open parking space near a little bistro. Michele's car was already there. They had planned this lunch before the trip; Michele wanted to make sure she heard all about Italy while things were still fresh in Marilyn's mind.

As Marilyn got out of the car and walked toward the front door, she felt a little concerned. It was something in the tone of Michele's voice when they had confirmed things on the phone an hour ago. Marilyn wanted to ask then but decided to wait, since they were spending this time together now.

The restaurant was fairly crowded. Michele waved to her from a table in the back. She was smiling and stood to greet Marilyn as she reached the table. “Look at you,” Michele said, “the world traveler comes home.” They hugged and sat in their chairs. “So, how was it? I want to hear everything.”

But there it was, in her eyes. Something was troubling Michele. Something big.

Over the next forty-five minutes, while Marilyn ate two perfectly grilled lamb chops over long grain rice, and Michele enjoyed her plate of thyme-and-garlic marinated shrimp, they talked all about Italy. Michele insisted that Marilyn walk her through the entire trip, day by day. It was great reliving all those moments again and being able to share them with her daughter.

“You and Dad sound more like a couple on their first honeymoon, not a couple of old fogies in their forties,” Michele teased.

“That's how it felt. Every single day. Your father was amazing. I feel closer to him now than I have in twenty-seven years.”

Michele sipped her café au lait. “I'm so happy for you, for both of you. You've come so far since last summer. I really thought it was over back then, that there was no way back for you guys.”

“So did I,” Marilyn said. “But God had mercy on us. A lot of couples our age dread the empty-nest years. But now, I'm actually looking forward to them. I just didn't think they were gonna be here so soon.”

“What do you mean? Doug's not leaving for college until the fall.”

“I guess he didn't tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Marilyn told her about Doug's plans to leave home early, right after his high school graduation. “But let's not dwell on that now,” she said.

There it was again, that look in Michele's eyes. Something was bothering her, something she didn't want to talk about. “What is it, Michele?”

“What is what?”

“Something's wrong. I can tell. I can always tell. What is it?”

Michele sighed. “I don't want to talk about it now. You need to
know, but not now. You're just getting back from your trip. We're having such a great lunch. Let's leave it be for a little while.”

“Michele . . . you know that's not gonna work. Not with me. I won't be able to concentrate on another thing you say if you don't tell me.” Michele sighed again. A double sigh. Must be pretty bad. Marilyn began to tense up.

“I suppose you're right. You're going to find out soon enough anyway, with something this big.”

This big? What could it be?

Michele took a deep breath. “I guess I should just say it. Tom was laid off from his job at the bank five months ago.”

“What!”

“There's more. Since then, he's been lying to Jean and all of us about it. Jean just found out yesterday, and not because he told her. She found out the hard way. She went to the doctor's office, to confirm that she's pregnant. That's when she discovered they lost their health insurance.”

“Jean's pregnant? Does Tom know?”

“He does now. They had a big blowup yesterday. She confronted him when he got home from the airport.”

This was terrible. “How far along is she?”

“We don't know. She wasn't able to see the doctor because of the insurance thing. I can't believe Tom would do something so stupid.”

“How did he lose his job? Was he laid off, did he get fired?”

“I really don't know, Mom. I haven't heard the whole story yet.”

The waiter came up and asked if they had saved any room for dessert. Both thanked him but said no. Marilyn couldn't even think about eating anything else now. “But I would like some coffee, please.”

“No more for me,” Michele said.

What a mess, Marilyn thought. “Do you know what Tom
was doing that whole time? If he wasn't going to work, where was he going?”

“I don't know that one either,” Michele said. “I'm going to check in on Jean, see if she'd like to talk more about it. Last night she just wanted some time alone. I do know this . . . it's got her wondering whether or not Tom has been unfaithful. Like maybe there's more going on here than just losing his job.”

“I don't believe that,” Marilyn said. “Do you? I can't see Tom throwing away his relationship with Jean and the kids like that.”

“I don't want to believe it. But I can't imagine lying about losing your job for five months, either. Then going off every day, pretending to go to work. Jean said, how can you trust a word someone says if they can lie about something that big every day for all that time?”

The waiter walked up and poured Marilyn's coffee.

This was so awful. They weren't talking about just anyone; they were talking about Tom, her son. “Do you think Jean would talk to me?” Marilyn loved her daughter-in-law deeply. They had a good relationship, but not a close one. She'd always blamed Tom for that. He was so standoffish, so controlling. Just like his father had been for so many years. He had probably forbidden Jean from sharing any of their “private business.” The poor thing, Jean was probably an emotional wreck right now.

“I don't know, Mom. She might. But maybe you should let me test the waters on that first. She started opening up to me while you guys were gone. I think she
needs
to hear from you, especially after what you've been through with Dad. If anybody can help her sort through the deep emotions she must be feeling, it's you.” Michele reached her hand across the table and squeezed her mother's fingers. “I know talking to you always helps me.”

“Thanks, hon,” she said, reaching for a napkin. “I love talking to you, any chance I get. And I do want to talk to Jean, as
soon as God opens a door. Give me a call after you see how she's doing.”

“I will.”

Marilyn took a sip of coffee. “But I think even more important than me having a talk with Jean is your father having a talk with Tom.”

“I'm so glad you said that,” Michele said. “I've been wishing Dad would talk to Tom for months. I even talked to Allan about it.”

See, Marilyn thought. Even Michele knew Tom and Jean were in trouble. It was a feeling Marilyn hadn't been able to shake for months now. It hung over her head like a cloud for hours every time they visited. It was why she'd kept pressing Jim to reach out to Tom in Italy, to spend more time with him.

Oh my. Jim.

What's he going to say when he hears about this?

 38 

M
arilyn drove with a heavy heart to their home on Elderberry Lane. She wasn't thinking about Italy anymore. But as she turned the corner onto the little service lane running behind their home, she couldn't help but smile at what she saw. “I can't believe it. He remembered.”

Standing above the white privacy fence were the long, thin—and now very familiar—tops of five Italian cypress trees. They had only talked about this once on their trip, how much she loved these trees that lined the roadways and villa driveways throughout Tuscany. Pushing the garage door opener, she pulled into her spot in the garage. She almost didn't have the heart to tell Jim about her conversation with Michele at lunch.

She got out of the car and walked through the garage, through the side gate, and into the backyard. Jim was bent over, his shirt drenched in sweat, furiously digging five large, evenly spaced holes along the side fence. He hadn't seen her yet. Next to him in a cluster were the five trees, with burlap sacks tied around their root balls. They looked much too heavy for Jim to lift by himself. She hoped that wasn't the plan.

As she got closer, she saw he wore earbud headphones attached to an iPod in his pocket. She was about to tap him on
the shoulder when he stopped digging and turned around. He had seen her shadow.

“Well, what do you think?” he yelled over the volume in his ears. He stood back and waved his arms like a showman introducing a line of dancers.

She threw her arms around him, sweat and all. “I love them!”

“Honey, I'm a mess.” He dropped the shovel and pulled out his headphones.

“I don't care. I can't believe you remembered.”

“Of course I did. I said I would. Figured I'd do it right off the bat, before I got sucked back into our routine.”

She released her hug. “You're not going to move those huge things into those holes by yourself, are you?”

“No, Doug's gonna help me. He gets off work at 4:00. That's when your orientation meeting is, right? With Charlotte?”

“That's right.” She looked at her watch. It was an hour and a half away. Now she wondered if she should cancel. How could she pay attention to anything with this crisis going on between Tom and Jean?

“Are you still going?”

“I . . . uh, I think so.”

“You sounded so excited about it before,” he said.

“I know. I really do want to go. It's just . . .” She sighed.

“What's the matter?”

“Something's come up. Something I found out about at lunch with Michele.”

“Something between her and Allan?”

Marilyn shook her head no. “Something Michele told me. Could you use a break? I really need to talk to you. How about I go in the house and pour a Coke. You can clean up a bit and I'll fill you in.”

“You want me to take a shower? I'd like to finish digging first, if that's okay. Might take me twenty minutes.”

“This can't wait. Can we talk now? Maybe you could just dry off with a towel, change your shirt.”

“Sure, hon. Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

After she'd left Jim by the fence, Marilyn spent most of her time praying about what to say, but even more about how Jim would take it. She set the sodas on the bar and pulled out a stool.

A few minutes later, Jim came in and sat beside her. “Okay, what's up?”

“Before I tell you, I want to say I probably won't have answers to most of your questions. This thing just happened, last night, I guess. And Michele still doesn't know most of the details.”

“Well, you've certainly got my attention.” He lifted his glass and took a long swallow.

Jean reached for hers but didn't drink. “I don't even know where to begin. You know how we tried not to talk about our kids' problems on our trip?” Jim nodded. “And you know how that didn't work out very well?”

“Some of the time it did.”

“Well, you're right. But I couldn't get one of our kids completely out of my mind.”

“Tom?” She nodded. “So this is about Tom and Jean? What's the matter? What happened?”

She looked in Jim's eyes, trying to read them. “It looks like our son has done something very foolish. When Michele first told me, I couldn't even believe it.”

“I'm listening.” His face grew serious.

“He was either fired or got laid off from his job at the bank.”

“Well,” Jim said, “I guess he got fired, if you're saying he did something foolish.”

“Jim, you need to let me finish.”

“I'm sorry.”

“The foolish thing isn't about how he lost his job, but
when
.” Jim looked properly puzzled. She continued. “It happened five months ago.”

“Five months ago! Five months ago! What are you saying?” Jim set his glass down.

“He lost his job at the bank five months ago, but he didn't tell anyone. Not even Jean.”

“You're kidding. That's . . . that's absurd. Why wouldn't he tell anyone?”

“We don't know, not yet.”

“Well,” Jim said, “what has he been doing all this time?”

“Apparently, he's been getting up every day pretending to go to work, keeping the same routine he always had.”

“That's just . . . that's crazy. Where was he going? What's he been using for money all this time?”

“I don't have all the answers, remember? I really don't know. I guess he's been on unemployment.”

“Well, they can't live on that. Not with
that
mortgage, and those car payments. He wouldn't last two months on unemployment with his bills, let alone five.”

“I don't know, Jim. I guess we'll find out those kinds of things in a little while.”

Jim sat back in his stool, propped up his legs on the footrests. He was shaking his head back and forth, staring at some point in the kitchen. “This is just crazy. What an idiotic thing to do. What was he thinking? He's probably gonna lose the house, the car. Maybe both cars. Five months, that's a long time. And he didn't tell anyone? What possible excuse could he have for not telling anyone?”

She realized he wasn't really asking questions at this point, just venting his confusion and frustration. But she was concerned about where his heart would go with this information.

He looked out toward the backyard and continued, as if Tom was standing nearby. “C'mon, Tom, you can't be serious. That's not how I raised you. You take responsibility for your mistakes, you don't bury them under the rug. You deal with them. Did you think you'd get away with something like this?” He turned back to Marilyn. “It's like something a little kid would do. Isn't it? Not something a grown man would do.”

Little kid, Marilyn thought. Yes, a little boy. A picture flashed in her mind, her little Tom. He was such a sweet child. All she could think of now was the pain he must be feeling, and the confusion.

“Marilyn, are you listening?”

“Yes, I suppose it does seem immature,” Marilyn said. “And if you ask me, pretty out of character for him. Of all our kids, Tom was the most responsible. Even when he was a child. I almost never had to tell him to do something twice. He always did his chores, always followed through.” She couldn't see Michele doing something like this, either. Now Doug? That really wouldn't surprise her at all.

“There's gotta be more to the story,” Jim said. “I didn't raise Tom to do something as crazy as this. It would be easier to believe he shot somebody.”

Marilyn didn't like hearing Jim say the phrase “I didn't raise Tom,” as if he had raised Tom on his own. That was the second time he'd said this. But in a way, it was partly true. She had always struggled with the heavy expectations Jim had placed on Tom growing up. She regularly felt like Jim was too hard on Tom. But Tom never seemed to mind. He adored his father.

But still, Marilyn regretted the fact that she had never spoken up about it. It was wrong, clearly. Look at all the bad fruit showing up on the tree now. Maybe if she'd had more courage back then and pressed these issues with Jim, she could have begun to steer him in a healthier direction.

“Where are they now?” Jim asked. “Tom and Jean, what's the status of things?”

“Michele said there was a big blowup last night when Tom got back from the airport.”

“So Jean just found out about it?” Jim said. “How?”

Marilyn took a few minutes to explain what she understood, then said, “From what I gather, Jean put Tom out of the house, at least temporarily.”

“Good for her,” Jim said. “Where is he now?”

That sounded a bit harsh. “I don't really know.” She was more worried about Tom than angry.

Jim stood up and started walking toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my cell phone,” Jim said. “I've gotta call Tom, get to the bottom of this.”

“Stop right there,” Marilyn said. “You'll do no such thing.”