Indio aroused herself from a fitful sleep at 2:50 a.m. and gave up the notion that she could get a good night’s rest.
She repositioned pillows and leaned back against them.
Ben stirred. In the bright moonlight that poured through the windows, she watched him roll from his back to his side toward her. “Need me?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she whispered. Thank You, Lord, for this man who is so in tune with me.
“Ah.” There was a grin in Ben’s voice. “It’s a bird night.”
“Mm-hmm.”
They listened for a few moments. It tickled them both to catch the odd sound of birds singing in the dead of night. They imagined that the dulcet notes were praises to the Creator.
“I should have called them, Ben.” The clothespin snapped shut on her lungs again. She began to knead her chest bone.
“I recall you quit worrying about Max and Claire flying a long time ago.”
“I wasn’t concerned about them flying.” When Max first bought the plane, Indio’s faith had taken flight every time he flew in it. She bugged him, phoned after each leg of a trip, until he told her in no uncertain terms to stop. She could still hear him declaring in a sharp tone that he was not BJ, he was not a Navy pilot, he was not in Vietnam.
Indio sighed. “Maybe they reconciled on the trip.”
Ben scooted up to a sitting position and put an arm around her shoulders.
She leaned into him. “It couldn’t happen that fast, though, could it?”
“No, it couldn’t.”
“God could have made it happen that fast.”
“Yes, He could.”
“Oh, Ben.”
“Shh.” He rested his chin atop her head. “Remember our story. God had quite a few kinks to iron out along the way in our marriage. It was a long process. The same holds true for them.”
“We could have taught them more diligently what we learned.”
“Love, we showed them by how we relate to each other. Preaching at them would have fallen on deaf ears.”
“It’s just so obvious how backwards they’ve got it.”
“Climbing up to your pulpit, are you?”
Indio ignored his remark. “They look to each other for happiness and security, like they’ve got the power to give that. Claire bottles things up instead of communicating with him. And he certainly is the world’s worst at communicating when it comes to heart issues. Now they’re reaping what they’ve sown, and it’s destroying any shred of love they might still have for each other.”
“Finished yet?”
“No. They are two selfish, selfish people.”
“Who needs prayer.”
I’m too mad to pray.
Now who wasn’t communicating? “I don’t really feel like it.”
“You can be prickly, woman.”
“Oooh! I just want to shake some sense into them.”
He chuckled. “Listen. This is part of their journey. We can’t take it for them.”
She moaned against his shoulder. “Why do I lose it whenever it comes to Max? After all these years!”
“Because you keep taking back the sins God has forgiven. Yes, we screwed up parenting him. We put BJ on a pedestal and made Max feel unworthy by comparing him. But we have confessed all of it to Max and God. We’ve tried to make amends. We love on Max the best we know how. Indio, let it go.”
“Max hasn’t let it go.”
“And is that your job to make him? You even think you can make him?”
“No.” She wiped a tear on his cotton T-shirt.
“We can only pray for them.”
“Go ahead.”
“Guess we know why I woke up.” He wrapped his other arm around her. “Dear Father, we come to You with praise and thanks-giving. We have anxieties about Max and Claire. We pray for their healing, for their reconciliation . . .”
He continued. After a time, Indio breathed easier. She fell asleep to the soothing rumble of her husband’s voice.