Saturday morning Susan rinsed the carafe under the running faucet. It clanked against the porcelain sink.
“Doggone it!”
She inspected it carefully, grateful not to see a crack, and set it on the countertop. After turning off the water, she clasped her hands together, squeezing so they wouldn’t flutter about and knock something over.
“What I mean is, Lord! Help! I’m losing it. Calm me down. Please, please calm me down.” A song sprang to mind and she sang aloud. “‘Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms. Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.’”
Drake was on his way to the beach house. Cause for alarm? Or for hope?
“Hope. I choose hope. I do. Hope is from You. Fear is not. The straitjacket is not.”
“Susan.”
She turned and saw Drake on the other side of the screen door.
He grinned and stepped inside. “Are you talking to yourself?”
“Me, myself, and I.” She shrugged. “And God.”
Drake walked across the room, his arms held wide. “Sounds like good company.”
The memory flashed through her mind of Thursday night’s dinner. Her sharp words to him replayed. Yes, I got pregnant out of wedlock. But you know what, Drake? You were there when it happened. She thought of the voice mail she’d left for him, informing him of the baby shower.
His only response to both communications had been to call her that morning. He’d asked, somewhat tersely, if she was available that afternoon. He would come to the beach, after an early lunch meeting. They could talk.
At least it was a start.
She stepped into the circle of his arms.
“I miss you, Susan.”
She slid her arms around him and laid her face against his chest, cutting off her response. The truth was, she didn’t miss him. In some bizarre twist, life had been simpler at the beach house. Alone. In particular, alone without him.
What on earth were they going to talk about?
They turned the armchairs to face the large front picture window and watched people pass along the boardwalk just the other side of the patio and picket fence. Surfers disappeared in the glare of the afternoon sun bouncing off the ocean.
Weather talk and freeway conditions used up the time it took to shove the chairs around and settle into them.
“Your hair does look nice in that style.”
What was going on? He actually arrived and on time and now he complimented her.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Today’s April first. I thought you might say April fool!”
He chuckled. “No. I mean it.”
“Thanks.” She combed her fingers through it, up the back, making sure it didn’t droop. Making sure the attitude didn’t droop. “It’s easy to take care of.”
“Tess said she liked it.”
“You talked to Tess?” The director usually didn’t work on Saturdays.
“She stopped by the office this morning.” He leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and laced his fingers together.
Susan sank against the back cushion and crossed her legs. He and Tess discussed her hair?
“We can probably thank Tess for getting me here. She told me she came to the shower. That she knows. That she understands. And loves us both to pieces. She even cried a little.”
Susan folded her arms. “What did she say about Kenzie?”
“That she…seemed…okay.” He searched for words.
What else had Tess said? Okay did not scratch the surface. Did she describe Kenzie’s glow? The fear in her eyes? The obvious camaraderie she enjoyed with Pepper? The laughter that filled the little beach house while she was there?
Drake continued. “She believes that our daughter’s missteps are not a reflection on our character. It helped me see that you were right. We should share this burden with friends, those closest to us. Then, as word gets around, perhaps I can say something from the pulpit. Something along the lines of a difficult time, but our faith will see us through. She thinks, though, that I should head things off at the pass. Address the issue before it becomes gossip. Susan, you look distraught. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” That wasn’t true. She knew. When would she ever quit this pretending with him?
She kneaded her forehead and thought of Kenzie, pregnant, scared, lonely, and in need, despite the love the Carluccis poured on her. They weren’t her family. Susan and Drake were wrong to turn their back on her.
Something stirred inside of her. A long-asleep Mama Bear growled awake. She lumbered about Susan’s mind, knocking aside all fears that prevented her from protecting her child.
She lowered her hand. “I have to take that back. Yes, I do know what’s wrong. The thing is, I’m angry. Really angry. With you.”
A surprised moment passed between them. In all the years they’d known each other, she had never even hinted at such a thing. Submissive women did not feel mad. Ticked off maybe, irritated. Annoyed. Peeved. But not this. Not this white-hot rage.
“Anger is an emotion, Susan, neither right nor wrong. It just is. Can you explain the reason why you feel it?”
How to start?
“It’s all right.” He smiled crookedly. “I promise I won’t blow a gasket. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Okay, she had his permission. “I’m thinking it’s wrong for a submissive wife to feel this way. I’ve always thought my duty is to keep your world a peaceful harbor, to keep storms away.”
“Do I teach that?” He shook his head. “I would never intentionally suggest such a thing.”
“I am the keeper of the home environment.”
“Well, I have said that, yes. But…Oh, Susan. Storms come. We can’t avoid them.”
She swallowed. He could be incredibly thoughtful and understanding. It was no wonder people flocked to him for counsel. She was being silly. Overreacting. Life wasn’t that bad. He was only doing the best he could.
She realized her arms were crossed over her middle, so tightly the elbows nearly touched. It was like being wrapped in a straitjacket.
Was Drake forcing her back into it?
Or did she step into it herself?
He couldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to do. Even if her choices were made unconsciously, she alone was responsible for them.
She untwined her arms and inhaled so deeply her throat made a gasping noise. “Well.” She exhaled loudly.
Time to fly.
“Well,” she said again. “We’re in a storm right now. I bet you knew that.”
He smiled in a self-deprecating way.
“And I think I’m angry because you and Tess had a heartfelt conversation about our daughter.” Her voice wavered.
“What?” Total surprise. “That’s just Tess. You know we have that sort of relationship. She’s more a righthand man than Vince is.” He referred to his very capable associate pastor. “It’s a spiritual but business connection. She’s happily married.”
“I’ve asked you to tell people about Kenzie. Why is it Tess’ opinion counts more than mine? You even like my hair now that she okayed it.”
“That’s not true, Susan.”
“I’ve cried for three months. You’ve never referred to my tears as sweetly as you just did to Tess’. How could you? No one knows there’s a reason for me to cry. And another thing. It’s Kenzie we should cry for, not ourselves because this makes us look imperfect.” Her shoulders sagged, but she did not cross her arms.
“Is there anything else?” He spoke in a hushed tone.
Before she could say a word, tears gushed from her eyes and she sobbed. “You blame me for sleeping with you before we got married.”
“No, Susan.”
“You blame me for getting pregnant. For tarnishing your image.”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“It’s subtle, Drake.” She wiped at her damp cheeks. The accusations tumbled off her tongue. Frighteningly, as if they had a life of their own, they kept coming. “When was the last time you took my opinion seriously? Or thought one of my ideas worthy of your consideration? How could you? They come from someone you consider unworthy.”
She didn’t see him move, but now he was beside her, gently pulling her from the chair. His arm at her waist, he helped her to the couch. They sat side by side and he drew her into his arms.
Rage and pain tore through her, a physical sensation beyond release through crying. She felt as though she were falling into a gaping black hole, rushing headlong into oblivion.