Chapter Eighteen

Dante

As usual, my stomach reacted pleasantly to the smell of cooking food as I walked through the door, and even more so today because I’d worked through lunch, eating only a sandwich from the stack in the refrigerator that Becca had made for me and the kids to take that morning. We were responsible for whatever else we wanted, and usually I had time to heat leftovers from dinner, but today I’d wanted to leave work on time.

Becca was surprised to see me home so early. “Hey, you’re home,” she said, greeting me with her customary kiss.

“I didn’t want to rush dinner.” Tuesday night in a way was one of my favorites, but it was also one of the most exhausting. I had most of my youth interviews on Tuesdays, mostly because the kids were already there for Mutual activities, other interviews, and a meeting with my counselors. I enjoyed interacting with others as I fulfilled my calling, but now with my increased sensitivity to Travis’s situation, I worried that he’d resent one more night that I wasn’t home. Making a solid appearance at dinner should go a long way to establishing my presence.

“It’s basically ready. But I need someone to set the table.”

“How’s Travis?”

“Okay. He’s doing homework, which is a good sign. He’s downstairs with the rest of the kids. If you’ll call them up, we can eat.”

Nodding, I headed for the basement stairs, going over my daily checklist in my mind. I needed to ask Travis how his homework was going and if there was anything I could help with—then try to fit it in my schedule if he did. I had to keep my promise to him. His brother and sisters were also on the list. I hoped this would eventually become habit and I wouldn’t have to actually itemize my tasks. Yesterday morning I’d realized I had no idea what homework they had or which classes they were taking. I could claim that was because the year had only begun, but Becca would know them all, and if I didn’t learn all I could within the next week or two, I would be letting my children and myself down. At the very least, I needed to make sure I was taking the time to participate in more of their activities. When was the last time I’d tossed a ball with Cory and Lauren?

Then there was Becca herself. What with Sundays being so busy for me, and Mondays being family home evening, I’d had no time to approach her about the garden show. Rikki had said it meant a lot to her, but if so, why didn’t she bring it up? It was all enough to make me wish I were back in the simpler, black-and-white world of work.

“Daddy!” Cory and Lauren attacked me, and I hugged them tightly. When had they grown so big? Only yesterday, Lauren had been a baby. “Mom says dinner’s ready,” I announced. “But she needs help setting the table.”

“I’ll do it!” Cory yelled. “It’s lasagna!”

I upgraded Cory in my mind from carnivore to omnivore.

Lauren ran up the stairs after him, always willing to help—especially if it meant getting in the way. At least this was something she could actually do.

I went to stand behind Travis, who was focused on the computer. “What are you doing?” I asked casually.

“Essay for English.” He turned around to look at me. “What would you call a sacrifice? I mean a real sacrifice. I was thinking of stuff like, you know, studying hard to get scholarships, obeying rules, being nice to your siblings, paying tithing, that sort of thing. But after we talked about it in class and now that I’m reading about it on the Net, it seems none of that is really a sacrifice because you get something back, and the definition of a sacrifice, a real sacrifice, is giving something important and not getting anything back.”

“Not getting anything back or not expecting something back?”

“Ah,” Travis said.

“Because sacrifice always brings blessings. Some sacrifices you know will give back in physical benefits—like studying and saving and working hard. Others, like giving to the needy or paying tithing, also have blessings attached but are sometimes far less obvious. It depends what you are sacrificing and why. Think of Christ. He sacrificed His life. Do you think He got a return?”

“He got us?” Travis asked.

“Yeah. Would you sacrifice your life to save Cory or Lauren?”

Travis grinned. “Maybe them but not Allia.”

“Right.” I laughed. “It may not be in this life that you get a reward, but I can’t think of a single instance when sacrifice doesn’t bring some kind of blessing, even if it’s just building your character.”

“But if sacrifice always gets us to a sweet place in our career, or makes you strong so you can do more things, harder things—get farther in life—or if God blesses you for helping someone, then doesn’t that mean sacrifice really isn’t a sacrifice?”

“Oh, sacrifice is real, but it requires giving something that is a challenge for you to give. It’s not a small thing. But you are also correct when you say the nature of sacrifice is that it brings blessings.”

Travis tilted his head as he stared up at me. “Is that why you don’t mind being a bishop?”

I sat on the edge of the computer desk. “I see lives change. I see miracles. It makes it worth it.” I grinned. “Most days.”

Nodding, he turned back to the computer. “I’ll be right up. I want to write this all down while I still remember.”

“Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were at the table in the kitchen eating. Cory was already on his second helping, but Lauren was pouting at something he’d said and wasn’t eating at all.

Travis downed his food, and before I could ask him about school, he was out of his seat and heading for the stairs. “Remember Young Men’s tonight,” I said.

“’Course. We’re doing baptisms at the temple.”

The children cleared out, and I was left wondering what I had accomplished by being there. Well, at least Becca was still here. She’d been so busy dishing up and helping Lauren that her plate was still half full.

She set down her fork to take a drink, and I grabbed her hand before she could pick it up again. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

She smiled. “Yeah. You, too.”

“Look, about that garden show.” I felt almost stupid bringing it up. I knew my wife a lot better than Rikki did.

She pulled her hand away and picked up her fork. “That’s Rikki’s nonsense.” The flippant way she spoke didn’t ring true. Not that she was purposefully lying, but more like she was trying to convince herself.

“I think we ought to go.”

“To Saint George, for a garden show?” Her voice was flat. “You’d be bored out of your skull.”

“No more than you were at that writing seminar, and you went with me.” Two years ago I’d begun exploring the option of freelancing in my free time—self-help topics, adventure, products. Topics that didn’t take as much know-how as my day job writing about software but that used the same skills. Except I’d become the bishop shortly after the conference and that was the end of any free time. Since I still did what I loved every day, I hadn’t been disappointed. I could always go back to it someday.

“The hotel had a nice spa,” Becca said with a smile. “And it was our first night ever away from the kids.”

Had it been? “You hate leaving them.”

“Well, they’re getting older.”

“So let’s go to Saint George next weekend. For one night. I’ll get off early from work, and we’ll go, just the two of us. That is, if the show is still on.”

“I think next week is the last week for the show, but what about the kids? We can’t exactly leave Travis in charge.”

“We’ll find a sitter.”

“Who?”

“We’re in a ward where half the people have all their children grown and gone. I’ll find someone.”

She laughed. “No, I’ll find someone.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She was pickier than I was, and I didn’t want her to worry about the kids.

“Maybe my sister will watch them,” Becca mused.

The more I thought about the trip, the more excited I was. Maybe I could get tickets for a play somewhere. Didn’t they have an outdoor theater there? We could go somewhere romantic for dinner, sit in the hot tub afterward. Enjoy ourselves with no interruptions.

Becca picked up her plate and started for the sink, though her plate was still half full. “We’ll have to hurry to fit in all the gardens. It’ll be a bit of driving, but the gardens should be fabulous.”

Oh, that’s right. Saint George wasn’t a romantic getaway, but a chance for her to see gardens. I grimaced internally. Rikki had been right that I hadn’t been listening. Not even now. I’d changed the trip into something else entirely. Something for me. “Great,” I said.

Becca returned to the table and put her arms around me. I turned and met her lips. Well, maybe Saint George wasn’t a romantic getaway, but whatever I’d done had made Becca happy, and I wanted her to be happy.

“You’d better get going,” she said. “Or you’ll be late for your meeting.”

I hadn’t done what I’d wanted with all my kids yet, but there was always tomorrow. I stifled a wave of guilt as I gave Becca another kiss and headed out the door.