“Chet, you know I’d be back if I could. I didn’t tell my mom to break her hip.”
She listened to his superior attitude, and she controlled herself from knocking it down a peg. She had the ammunition, but she thought better of it. If she reminded him of his underhanded ways with her, she’d only put herself in a deeper hole.
“Look, Chet, think compassion. Can you do that?”
“What’s that?” he asked her.
She wanted to give a smart remark back. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. I’m all my parents have, and they—”
He cut her off and his question struck her.
“Yes, I have a brother, but he’s married and lives out of state. My dad—”
She cringed at his next demand. “Look, I have two more weeks’ vacation.” Her vacation. Her stomach knotted. This wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her vacation, but Chet wasn’t going to manipulate her. “That’ll nearly take me to the Christmas holidays. She’s improving every day. Maybe by then, I’ll—”
Chet’s demand charged through her as he cut her off.
Her hopes fell to the ground. “I realize I have clients and yes, I’m going to talk with them today. I’ll work out something about the meeting.”
Christine hung up and fell backward on her bed. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and dripped to the quilt beneath her. Chet had made the threats she’d expected. She could go over his head, but it could destroy her. Right now, she needed to keep things low-key and try to cooperate as best she could.
She’d forgotten about a meeting she had with a client in less than a week, a big client who needed a sizable ad campaign. She wasn’t the type to forget, but she wouldn’t dwell on this now. She’d promised them mountains, and she’d better get busy. If she couldn’t keep her appointments, someone else could. She’d be slipping from her status at the company.
As the outcomes swirled in her head, she pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes to stop the welling of tears. She refused to feel sorry for herself.
She rose and slid forward, her feet dangling from the mattress. Since she’d been here, she’d learned to enjoy some things about being laid-back—cozy, as she’d called it a couple days earlier. But it was more than cozy. The world had a sense of calmness and acceptance. Life had stresses, but they were different. They lacked the panic and the tension that she’d come to accept in her work and in city life.
She recalled the traffic jams on Southfield Road and I-696. She’d line up for miles. Her time would be frittered away while she directed her anger at drivers cutting her off and driving down the shoulder to sneak in ahead of her.
But here on the island, traffic? She smiled. Traffic was two horses and a carriage or two snowmobiles passing on a quiet road. She found something about that image soothing. No wonder her grandmother still looked so good even after her stroke. A little droopy in the face, perhaps, but she still had a sparkle in her eyes and a will to live fully.
Christine’s thoughts slipped back to Will. She still felt troubled about what had happened at the bazaar. Yesterday he’d been busy at the event, too, and they hadn’t really talked. Today he’d slipped away without a hello or goodbye. She longed to know what she’d done.
She pictured Will in the studio—his confidence and sense of being, sense of control. She admired his creativity, and though she was certain he had deadlines and responsibilities, he could pace himself. He could say yes or no to a job. He could take a day off without having his director threaten him. He could come home early and go in late if the fancy struck him.
She lowered her head in her hands. She’d been so excited to tell him about her great ideas for his store, and now she felt depressed and miserable. Being upset solved no problems. She’d find an answer.
Christine forced herself to rise. She dabbed powder around her eyes to cover the redness. The last thing she wanted was for her grandmother to know she had become upset again. Her grandmother mentioned a couple of the circle ladies were bringing her some jigsaw puzzles after her therapy. Christine hoped she could take the snowmobile—she looked to heaven and begged for mercy—and drop by the studio. She had to find out what was wrong.
Will lifted his head from his work, and his breath left him. Christine stood in the doorway of the studio, a smile on her face, but her eyes were questioning. What could he tell her? Not the truth. First he needed to figure out what he wanted and where he wanted this to go.
“Hi,” he said, trying to remove the apprehension from his voice. “What brings you here?”
“Christmas gifts. You told me to drop by, and Grandma Summers has company.”
“Great,” he said, before pausing to ask his next question. “How did you get here?”
“The sled. You give good lessons.”
That made him grin. “Thanks.”
“How was the bazaar on Sunday?”
“Just about as busy as Saturday.”
“Who won Doud’s sled?”
He shrugged. “A year-round resident.”
“Oh,” she said. “Then it wasn’t me.”
“No, it wasn’t you.” He knew they were batting around the inevitable, so he took a different tack. “Sorry about Saturday. I didn’t mean to let my mood affect our fun.”
She drew closer, resting her hand against a display case. “What was that all about? I figured I did something, but I didn’t know what.”
“It was me,” he said, feeling less than capable.
“What?” Her eyes narrowed as if his response had confused her.
“You’re so sure of yourself in business. You have tremendous drive. I’ve seen it since you’ve gotten here. Your mind never stops.”
She drew back. “It comes across that much?”
He shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s bad, but I know you’re anxious to get back to your work, and I—I’m not as anxious to have you go.”
She studied his face. “I’ve been a diversion, I know.”
“Diversion? Christine, you’re more than a diversion. I really like you. You’re great to be with. You make me laugh. I—”
“And somewhere in there I make you feel less confident and less capable. That doesn’t make sense. You should want me to leave.”
“It’s difficult to explain. The longer you’ve been here, the more you’ve let down your...” He struggled for the words. “You’ve let go of your job at times. I see the love you have for your grandmother despite your drive to get back to work. You—”
“I know.”
He felt his eyes widen at her admission.
“You look surprised that I see that in me, but I do. Let me tell you what happened today. I called my boss.”
He listened while she told him her plight. He had to admit she’d fought a good fight. The vacation days were the biggest evidence. She’d once said she didn’t want to give those up. “What will you do?”
She lowered her head and shook it. “I don’t know. I’ll do what I can and pray that Grandma Summers improves enough for me to go back when the time comes. Or...”
Her voice faded, but he wanted to know more. “Sounds as if your boss is trying to get even for some reason. Do you know why?”
She shook her head. “I really don’t want to talk about it today. I need to decide what I can do. There are clients I need to talk with, and I may have to go back to the office for a day or so this week.” She lowered her head again, then lifted it. “I hate to ask you but—”
“If you need me, Linda and I can handle it. I’m sure.”
“Really?”
“We handled it a couple days before you got here, and your grandmother is doing better now.”
“Thanks, Will. I feel much better with your offer. I can’t tell you how much.”
“I have some news,” he said, the words blurting from him more loudly than he expected. He noticed the surprised look on Christine’s face.
A frown wrinkled her forehead. “What kind of news?”
“My parents are coming up on the weekend for an early Christmas.”
Her expression showed her confusion. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“Right,” he said, trying to convince himself.
“Why early?”
“They have their Christmas traditions, and I said I couldn’t get there this year so they’re coming here.”
She fell quiet, as if trying to understand. “Are you worried about Grandma Summers? Is that why you’re not going home?”
“That’s a small part of it.” He turned away, afraid to look into her eyes for fear she’d read the truth. “I don’t enjoy the family’s social calendar. They either drag me with them—not always happy about it because I don’t have the proper clothes—or I stay with the family and wish I were here.” He finally looked at her.
She became quiet again, her eyes shifting from him to the distance. “I look forward to meeting them.”
Her comment twisted in his stomach. “Say that after the fact.” He heard the bitterness in his voice, and he regretted letting her see it.
He steadied himself. “Ready to look around for your gifts? I always give my friends a great bargain.”
She gave him a pleasant look, but her voice seemed strained. “My credit card is ready. Show me the way.”
Christine lowered her cell phone and pulled back her shoulders. Done. She had to go back tomorrow for an overnight stay. She’d hinted at changing the appointment, but her client hadn’t been receptive to change, and she knew if she wanted to keep the company happy, she’d better make the trip.
Flying from the Pellston Regional Airport to Detroit Metro, then renting a car seemed easier than driving the five hours home. She checked the flight schedule. The trip flying would take about an hour and twenty minutes. She could even fly back to the island the same day, but she wouldn’t. She wanted to see her mother while she was there.
Christine rubbed the gritty feeling from her eyes. She hadn’t slept well. All night, she’d waded through the subliminal undertones of Will’s reasons to stay on the island for Christmas. Bitterness seemed to rise from the mix of emotions she sensed in him—bitterness and disapproval. His attitude made her curious, and she was anxious to meet his parents.
When he’d suggested she look at his stock, she’d been relieved. It had distracted her from speculating.
Will’s talent amazed her. The beadwork had been lovely, and he’d promised her a lesson. He told her bead making was simple, but that would seem the same as her telling him planning an advertising campaign was easy. It could be when the person had expertise.
She’d purchased a number of items to use as Christmas gifts—a gorgeous molded plate made with crushed glass for her mother. Will called it frits—a whole new language for her. She selected a string of beads in shades of blue for her sister-in-law, stained-glass barrettes for her two nieces, and a butterfly sun catcher for her coworker Sandy. She’d admired one for herself but let it pass. She’d spent enough money, and she still had numerous gifts to buy. Perhaps if she could spare a few hours, she could shop in the Detroit area when she went home.
Home. She pictured her loft in Royal Oak, looking over the store-front business area. The only trees were in the distance, appearing over housetops. She liked her place, but lately the image of the wide-open space seemed stark and empty. It wasn’t like her grandmother’s house, with doors sprawling along hallways, nooks and crannies and rooms she hadn’t used in years.
With her decision made, Christine headed to the first floor. She stood in the doorway watching Judy encourage her grandmother to lift her arms and legs. The progress seemed slow but steady, and that gave Christine hope.
“How’s it going?” Christine asked as she sat nearby. “You’re using the sofa today.”
“It’s lower and firmer,” Judy said. “It adds to the challenge, but I can see an improvement.”
She turned to Christine. “You know, the insurance only covers three more weeks. That gets you up to Christmas. I hope you or someone can continue the therapy here, rather than sending her—”
“We’ll work something out,” Christine said, stopping the woman from suggesting they send her grandmother to an assisted-living complex. She’d seen the look in her grandma’s eyes. She couldn’t do that to her.
“Grandma.” Christine faltered. “I’m going to have to go home for a couple of days—I need to get online and make my reservations—but Will said he and Linda could stay with you while I’m gone.”
“We’ll do fine. Don’t worry.”
Her grandmother said the words, but Christine saw a look of concern on her face.
“I promise I’ll be back. I’m planning an overnight visit home—Wednesday, I think, and I’ll be back Thursday evening.”
“I know this is a hardship for you,” her grandmother said. “If I could make it any different—”
“Grandma, don’t say that. We’ll talk later.” She patted her grandmother’s hand and headed upstairs to her cell. She needed to make reservations for the flight and car, then tell her father she was coming for a brief visit, and while she was at it, she wanted to make lunch plans with her friend, Ellene, and see how married life had affected her.
When Christine came down the stairs, she found her grandmother in the living room, her Bible in her hands.
She waited a moment before Ella looked up from her reading. “Judy said you’re doing well.”
“That’s what she said.”
Christine sat across from her grandmother. “I made plans, and I called Linda. She’s ready to come in to help you in the morning and get your meals, and when she can’t be here, Will said he has no problem getting home early.”
“I know. I’m frustrated, I guess, and when that happens, I seek God’s Word. I always find comfort in this book.” She rested her hands on the Bible.
Christine leaned back, ready to be open with her grandmother. “When I came here, I’d been drifting from church attendance. The last two Sundays have been nice being with you in church. I love the hymns, and the lessons haven’t hurt me, either.”
Her grandmother only looked at her.
“I’m sure you didn’t know but—”
“But I did.” A faint, lopsided grin settled on her face.
“You did?”
“You can’t fool an old lady, Christine. I knew you didn’t want to go to church, and I could tell from your attitude that you’d drifted a little too far from the Lord, but I see the difference, and it does my heart good.”
“But I didn’t say anything.” She searched her grandmother’s face.
“No, but I saw it in your manner. Actions speak louder than words. I know you’ve heard that a thousand times, but it’s true.”
Christine hung her head. She remembered saying the same. “Faith without positive action was a dying faith.”
“But remember that we’re saved by grace alone, and not good works. The Bible tells us that, but when the Lord has blessed us, then we want to show our love by doing as He would want. Those are the things that everyone can see.”
A smile pulled at Christine’s mouth. “I remember a song I sang in the teen group years ago—“They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love.”
“I remember that song.” She shifted the Bible and fondled the page. “It reminds us of our behavior. Since the stroke, I can’t do as much, and I get frustrated with my fumbling arms and a leg that either stays glued to the floor or tries to trip me up.”
“But you’re getting much better now.”
“I am, and I’m still filled with self-pity, but lately when that happens, I read from Psalms because they are a beautiful blend of prayer and praise.
“When I feel sorry for myself, I think of what could have happened with my stroke, and then I’m filled with thankfulness. Here’s what I just read. It’s from Psalms 142:3. ‘When my spirit grows faint within me, it is You who knows my way.’” She drew her attention from the scripture. “This verse is for you, too.”
The verse wrapped around Christine’s heart. She’d always struggled to find her own way, forgetting to ask God to guide her.
“And speaking of seeing change,” her grandmother said. “In the past week, you glow. You’re not like you were the day you came. I know you’re still feeling stressed from your work, but you’re not as determined—aggressive.” She nailed Christine with her gaze. “You were aggressive when you arrived, but you’ve softened. You’re a lovely woman, and now it shows.”
Tears grew behind Christine’s eyes. She had no idea she’d appeared aggressive to her grandmother. She opened her mouth to apologize, but she choked on the words.
“Don’t be upset,” her grandmother said. “You did nothing wrong, but now I see you and Will laughing about things. You’re going off on the sled and coming back with rosy cheeks and a vibrance I haven’t seen in you for years. The island can get in your heart and change you.”
Had it been the island or her grandmother’s love? And Will. He’d impacted her, too, by making her face herself. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the beat of her heart and the rise and fall of her lungs. She felt alive on the island, much more alive than she had at home.
“I love you, Grandma,” she said. She rose and kissed the elderly woman’s soft cheek.
“And I love you, too, Christine—more and more each day. I’ll miss you when you go back home, and I know you must. I don’t mean for this little trip, but later when I’m doing well. You’ve been good for me.”
“You’ve been even better for me.” She clasped her hand. “And now, let’s work on the jigsaw puzzle. We need to get those fingers moving.”