Late on the evening of Palm Sunday, long after her usual bedtime, Susan’s world teetered precariously on the edge of collapse.
It wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Okay.” She folded her hands in her lap and swallowed the quivery tone. With resolute finality she said, “I quit.”
Seated in the other winged-back chair in the family room, Drake rubbed his forehead.
The day had worn on him as well. At least it was not the one Sunday of the month when evening church services were held. Tonight people met in homes instead, in small groups. They fellowshipped. Susan and Drake did not participate.
They hadn’t eaten. Somehow she managed to remove the roast from the oven before it burned, but neither of them were interested. Somehow they changed from dress clothes into casual. Somehow Drake built a fire to warm the always chilly family room. Somehow they survived the hours laden with tension.
Somehow Susan had not shriveled once again into a bent posture or slipped her arms into a straitjacket, eager to placate her husband at any cost.
Perhaps the morning hugs in the church lobby from the Martha Mavens kept her going. Perhaps the knowledge that they exited the service in support of her filled her with courage.
“You quit what?” he said.
“I quit talking. I’m exhausted.”
Drake lowered his hand. “We both are, but nothing is settled yet. I see two impasses. One, you think we should coddle Kenzie. I absolutely refuse to do that.”
“Coddle is your word, not mine.”
“Two, you think I should repeat my request to the entire church, asking them to pray for Kenzie.”
“It wouldn’t be a repeat since it wasn’t stated in the first place.”
His mouth worked so strenuously she expected a pink bubble to emerge from it at any moment.
“Drake.” She leaned forward, arms on her knees, surer of herself than she’d been all day.
The Marthas must have been praying up a storm.
She gave him a gentle smile. “We disagree on this. It’s all right for married couples to disagree, isn’t it?”
“Certainly.”
“I imagine other people do it all the time.”
“We’re not other people. We have to settle this subject before quitting. I can’t lead if you’re not on my side.”
“It can’t be a question of sides, Drake. I can’t choose between you and Kenzie.”
“We must agree on a workable plan regarding our daughter.”
“How about we agree to disagree?”
“Susan.” Exasperation pushed his voice up a notch.
They were breaking new territory here. Since midafternoon he hadn’t resorted to his just-above-a-whisper volume, the usual indication of agitation. Not that he yelled, but he spoke in a manner different than she’d ever witnessed. His breath came in irregular bursts. It was as if he’d…lost control.
Strange how that comforted her in a way.
His eyes flashed. “What in the world has gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so non-submissive!”
Ah. Now he’d named the true impasse.
Her muscles froze, holding her in that leaning pose, the one that offered to meet him halfway. “Submission means I have to agree with you?”
“No, not at all. We’ve exchanged opinions and disagreed. Fine. But now as head of this household it’s my duty to decide how we’re going to act. As a respectful wife, you’ll see the wisdom in following my lead.”
Feeling returned to her muscles and she straightened, her spine stiff as a ramrod. “If you don’t expect me to do something that goes against God’s Word.”
He blinked rapidly.
“My favorite preacher taught me that.”
“I’m not expecting you to go against God’s Word!”
“‘Parents, do not exasperate your children. Do not drive them to resentment.’”
“‘But correct them in the Lord.’”
“She’s been—Oh, Drake. I am not going to argue Scripture with you. The point is, I will not turn my back on her.”
“I’m not asking you to turn your back on her.”
Lord, talk about exasperation! Why can’t he let go?
“Susan, please.”
His voice carried the pouting tone she could now recognize immediately. His shoulders and face sagged.
And she saw him as a little boy. Like a kid threatened by a normally compliant buddy suddenly transmuted into nasty bully.
She leaned forward again. Halfway. “Drake, I love you. Please believe that.”
“Then let’s present a united front. Let’s—”
The doorbell rang. They exchanged a glance. The time was very late, but Drake was on call twenty-four/seven/three hundred sixty-five. There was no question of what to do.
But he hesitated getting out of his chair. Susan knew they both looked bedraggled, not quite presentable for company. Their minds were a million miles from being able to listen to another’s woes. It was the last thing they needed.
On the other hand, it provided the opportunity for Susan to quit talking.
She led the way to the front door and breathed a prayer of thanks.