Wildflowers (23 page)

Genevieve hadn’t moved at the same lightning pace, but she had come up with a floor plan she liked and asked Brad to help her order the necessary booths as well as tables and chairs from his source through the Internet.

Anthony made good on his promise and had a full crew there from morning till night once the plans were approved.

Thanks to Leah’s forcefulness and relentless promotion of Glenbrooke Days, paperwork flew through the necessary town hall channels at record speed. Everyone knew Leah and was glad to help her.

With all the progress they had made during the past two weeks, Genevieve felt good about taking off for Edgefield that afternoon. Mallory and Anna were happy to stay behind and help Leah paint the interior walls of the Dandelion. Anna had come up with a sketch for Leah’s back wall. It was a field of dandelions that were in what Mallory called “the wishing phase.” That meant the slender green stems were topped with fuzzy white hats, all begging to be blown to the winds while some child closed her eyes and made a wish.

The plans for the Wildflower Café were less whimsical. Genevieve let the tree house idea go, but she held onto her wish for a fireplace. Brad helped her find a fireplace unit that
could be installed directly up against the wall. It came with a wood mantle and, with the flip of a switch, could warm the area faster and more efficiently than any wood-burning fireplace. The best part was that it looked real.

The interior design was still taking shape. Genevieve was leaning toward a library décor with shelves and books. Her intent was to create an atmosphere that invited people to sit and feel comfortable. She thought she might substitute one of the table and chair sets with a love seat, two overstuffed chairs, and a large coffee table in front of the fire. Guests might feel funny at first, dining off of a coffee table instead of at a booth. Her instinct told her it would catch on. All it would take was one cozy conversation by the fire with a bowl of her carrot and coriander soup, and customers would want to return a few days later to repeat the soothing experience.

Genevieve checked her watch when she pulled into the parking lot of the hair salon. Her appointment was at two o’clock, which was in five minutes. She hoped this didn’t take too long because she wanted to do some shopping before she went home.

“What gorgeous, thick hair you have.” The beautician lathered up Genevieve’s hair. “How much did you want cut?”

“Not a lot,” Genevieve told her. “I work at a restaurant, and I wear it back in a ponytail or up in a clip most of the time. It feels frazzled to me. I just want it freshened up and an inch or two shorter.”

The beautician went to work, and when Genevieve
walked out forty-five minutes later, she felt lighter. Prettier. It was a good state of mind for her to be in for the next errand she had planned.

Genevieve drove to a nearby department store and headed for the lingerie department. It had been far too long since she had bought anything pretty for herself. Of all her wonderfully romantic memories, she cherished the sunny afternoon when Steven had whisked her off to the coast. The only regret she had was that her underwear was embarrassingly old. One of her straps had been held in place that afternoon with a small safety pin. It was definitely time to spend a little money on some new unmentionables.

Taking her time, Genevieve tried on a variety of undergarments. She decided to buy six pieces that made her feel feminine and attractive. She shook her head at a small stack of rejects that made her feel more like a freak of nature than a natural woman. It was the first time in her life that she remembered ever owning undergarments that actually matched each other and that fit her comfortably.

Maybe Steven would notice. Maybe he wouldn’t. One thing was certain. Genevieve would know. And knowing that she had on pretty underwear and that her hair was shaped made her feel freshened all over. On impulse, she also bought a bottle of gardenia-scented hand lotion when she stopped for groceries on the way home.

Yes
, Genevieve thought as she pulled into her driveway.
When Steven comes home tomorrow, he is going to find one fresh, feminine, and fragrant wife waiting!

However, Steven didn’t return the next day.

B
y eight o’clock Wednesday night, when Steven had neither arrived home nor called, Genevieve did something she hadn’t done since the early days of their marriage because she disliked the procedure so much. She called the airline to check on his flight status. It usually took a minimum of half an hour for whoever answered the call to check the schedule and check the flights before he could make a rough estimate of where Steven was en route.

This time Genevieve found an automated system in place of a human voice. She checked the notes she had listed in the back of her address book and punched in the number for Steven’s flight. The recording said the flight had arrived in San Francisco six hours ago. She then checked the numbers on the connecting flights that Steven usually took from San Francisco to Eugene, Oregon. If he made the first
flight, he should have been home by six. If he was on the second flight, he would be home around nine.

Nine o’clock came and went. Genevieve took Steven’s dinner out of the microwave and placed it in the refrigerator, covered with plastic wrap.

At ten o’clock, she sent the girls to bed, still trying to appear unconcerned.

At ten-fifteen, Genevieve called the airline again. This time she punched
O
, hoping an operator would come on the line. Instead, the automated service thanked her for calling and promptly disconnected the call.

This is what drives me crazy. This is what has always driven me crazy. Since Steven hates cell phones and refuses to wear a pager, I have no way to get ahold of him. He could be dead along the side of the road somewhere, and I wouldn’t know
.

She hit redial and listened to the list of automated options once again.

This does it. He has to get a pager. I can understand all his reasons for not wanting a cell phone, but there’s no reason he can’t carry a pager and simply turn it on when he’s not flying
.

Just then Genevieve heard Steven’s Triumph sports car rumble into the garage. She slammed down the phone and flew to the garage, throwing her arms around Steven, as he emerged from the front seat.

“What’s wrong?” Steven asked.

“I was so worried,” Genevieve said. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m fine.” Steven held her at arm’s length, examining her with a concerned look. “What got you so upset?”

Genevieve explained how she had called the airline and how helpless she felt when she couldn’t get ahold of him. As she listened to herself, she remembered a time early in their marriage when she had gone through a meltdown like this when he was a day late in getting home because of flight delays, and he hadn’t called her.

To steel herself against another such scene, Genevieve had told herself she didn’t care. She had stopped paying attention to Steven’s flight schedules. He came home when he came home. She didn’t allow herself to keep track.

“I didn’t know you would be so concerned.” Steven stroked her hair. “I got the later flight out of SFO and did a little shopping in Eugene. I would have called if I’d known you would be so upset.”

Genevieve shook her head. “I’m okay now. I thought you would be home sooner, that’s all.”

“Here, I bought these for you.” Steven reached into the passenger’s side of the car and pulled out a bouquet of daisies mixed with snapdragons. His smile showed that he hoped she would be pleased with his thoughtfulness.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Genevieve gave him a kiss. They embraced and kissed again. Genevieve knew that if she didn’t care deeply for her husband, she wouldn’t have felt such a strong reaction. She saw it as evidence that her love for him was at a deeper level.

“I want you to get a pager,” Genevieve said. “Or at least a cell phone that you keep in the car. I know we’ve talked about this before, but will you do this for me?”

“Sure,” Steven murmured in her ear. “For you, anything.

Tell me what’s been happening around here. What’s the latest at the café?”

Genevieve had talked to Steven half a dozen times on the phone during the two weeks he was away. He knew all about the decision to divide the café and for Leah to start her own Dandelion Corner. The only part he didn’t know about was the blessing party Leah had scheduled for Friday night. The walls were all painted so it was too late to write out Scripture verses on them, but the old linoleum flooring was being torn up at the end of the week. Leah thought they should gather a bunch of friends and have everyone write out favorite verses on the floor before the workers came in next week to lay the new flooring.

“So you’re going to write Bible verses on the floor?” Steven said. “Isn’t that kind of superstitious for Christians?”

“We’re not doing it to ward off evil spirits,” Genevieve explained. “Shelly’s family had a party like this when they restored the Hidden House B and B. I heard Leah explain it as a way of leaving our mark on the building and getting us on our knees to pray at the same time.”

Steven opened the Triumph’s trunk and pulled out his wheeled suitcase along with a shopping bag. Genevieve followed him into the house, wondering what he thought of their blessing party and if there was any way he would join them.

“What time is the party?” he asked.

“Six o’clock. We’re going to have pizza and then pass out the permanent markers.” She knew it sounded strange. It still sounded strange to her, too, but she liked the idea of
marking the Wildflower as a place set apart. It meant something to her to ask for God’s blessing on her business while in a circle of close friends. If Steven didn’t want to go with her and the girls, she would understand.

“Do I get to pick my own verse?” Steven asked.

“Your own verse?”

“To write on the floor. Do I get to pick the verse I write on the floor, or do you have them already selected?”

“No.” Genevieve felt a spark of hope rise up inside of her. “You can pick your own verse. I’m glad you want to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Genevieve thought that was a remarkable statement.

Steven plopped the plastic shopping bag onto the kitchen counter, and to her amazement, he pulled out a modern translation of the Bible along with a tube of toothpaste, a can of shaving cream, and a box of his favorite Mystic Mint cookies—the results of his shopping trip in Eugene.

Tearing open the box of cookies, Steven said, “I thought I’d buy myself a Bible. I’ll find a good verse for your café, Gena.” Then, without missing a beat, he said, “Do we have any milk?”

Over midnight milk and cookies, Genevieve and Steven snuggled on the couch. He told her about another airline that was going on strike and about one of his pilot friends who had recently switched companies to work for the one that was now on strike.

“I tried to tell him it was better to stay where he was,”
Steven said. “I told him I thought careers can be like marriages. We go through highs and lows, but it’s better to stick it out in the lows and wait for the highs to return. He went from low to rock bottom, poor guy.”

Genevieve licked the chocolate cookie crumbs off her thumb. “Steven, did you ever think of leaving our marriage when it was in one of its lows?”

He paused. “I thought about it. I guess everyone thinks about it. But I’m a man of my word. You know that. I don’t know if it came from my father’s military background or because my parents stayed together through all the highs and lows. I knew when you and I got married that we would stay married for life. For better or worse. Isn’t that what we said in our vows? Do you want any more milk?”

Genevieve shook her head. Steven got up, and she was glad he hadn’t asked her if she ever considered leaving their marriage. Over the years she had fleeting thoughts when she was really low. But she had abandoned the idea for their girls’ sake.

Sitting there, with the cottage of her heart open and flooded with light, Genevieve made a disturbing realization. She may have never considered leaving her marriage by moving out and taking her share of the furniture, but that was exactly what she had done emotionally.

I divorced Steven silently on the inside years ago. I took my share of the interest and attention and directed it to other areas that I loved more
.

The realization brought a sweeping sadness over her.

Oh, God, what did I do? I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I
know You have forgiven me for my lack of forgiveness toward Steven and the way my heart turned cold and dark toward You and toward him. I just never understood until this moment that I had been living a lie in saying I was married when all those years I was really separated. Painfully separated from my husband. Forgive me, Father. You desire truth in the deepest parts of me. I don’t want to ever live a lie again. Change me
.

The sadness that had come over her passed the way summer clouds sail across the sky, covering the sun only long enough to make you look around and then look up to see if the darkened landscape is permanent. By then, the cloud has passed, and the sun returns unobstructed.