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KATRINA RETURNED TO the parsonage after leaving the Safe Anchorage Gift Shop empty-handed. The first thing she did was check her phone. No messages.
What happened to Miles?
Maybe she should call. But it was so long after their scheduled lesson time. Why would she try to get a hold of him now? If she wanted to talk, she should have called sooner.
He probably just forgot. A simple mistake, and if she were to ring him up now, it would only make him feel bad.
She’d wait until tomorrow, and if he didn’t show up then, she’d force herself to call. Sooner in the day this time so she wasn’t left indecisive like this.
Staring at the cluttered kitchen counters, she tried to think of something she could make for dinner. She was out of inspiration, but unfortunately she and Greg had eaten up the last of the leftovers at lunch.
Spaghetti again?
Well, whatever it was would have to wait until after the prayer meeting.
The front door burst open, sending a blast of cold to the base of Katrina’s spine. It slammed shut with even more force, rocking the whole house.
“Where are you at?”
He was angry. What had she done or forgotten to do? Did it have anything to do with her music lessons?
“I’m in here,” she called out, trying to force cheer into her voice. It was probably something with church. Hadn’t he been focused on the budget all day? It was enough to work anyone up into a temper.
He stomped into the kitchen. “We need to talk.”
Her heart gave a faint flutter, reminiscent of the closing trill in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring.
Trying her best to walk on steady feet, she followed her husband into the dining room. “Is everything ok?”
He scowled without looking at her. “No, everything’s not ok. I just spent forty-five minutes tearing apart my office trying to find the receipts for our reimbursement check.”
Katrina bit her lip.
Greg continued to glare. “Well?”
“I forgot to copy them.” If her voice had been any quieter, she couldn’t have heard it herself.
“What?”
She did her best not to flinch at Greg’s roar. “I’m sorry.” She glanced at the wall calendar hanging in the kitchen, but it was too far away for her to make out the dates.
“You know we need those by the fifteenth. Especially this month with all the extra expenses.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“And we talked about it last week,” he added. “I asked you to get them done a few days early since I knew I’d be working on this budget.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She sounded like The Blue Danube, timidly offering the same two-note phrase over and over.
“Now they’re not going to be ready by tomorrow morning when Nancy comes over for the treasurer’s meeting, and so we’ll have to wait and submit them next month, and that basically eats away half our grocery money and anything extra we wanted to have for Christmas. Plus it messes up the church budget because now some of this year’s expenses are going on next year’s report.”
“Why don’t you let me go copy them now real quick? It won’t take me long to find them.”
“And then what? Huh? Because tonight’s the prayer meeting, tomorrow morning is the men’s breakfast, and after that I’m going straight back to my office to meet Nancy, so when am I supposed to fill everything out and get them in on time?”
“You don’t have to do anything. I can make the copies and fill out the paperwork now, and you won’t have to touch it.”
He glowered at the microwave clock. “When? The prayer meeting is about to start. We’ve got to go open the church up, I need to throw some salt down on the walkways ...”
“Do you want me to get those receipts now or not?” There was no reason for him to yell for ten minutes when it would take her two to find the records he needed and get them over to the church. If he stopped fussing about it and allowed her to focus on her job, everything could be filled out, signed, sealed, and ready before the prayer meeting even started. She could hand them over to Nancy Higgins herself. Greg wouldn’t even have to touch the envelope.
“I already told you,” he shouted, “there’s no time.” Which was technically true if he continued to waste precious minutes fuming.
It wasn’t his fault. Not all of it. He was under so much stress. All the extra holiday events, the annual budget meeting, their personal finances already as strained as a frayed violin string about to snap.
Anybody in his situation would feel frazzled.
At least that’s what she told herself to keep from yelling right back at him.
“What’d you do all day, anyway?” His voice was calmer now, but based on previous experience, she knew that wasn’t necessarily a good sign.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I want to know what you did all day.”
What did he expect? A minute-by-minute rundown of every single one of her activities since the moment she woke up?
Unfortunately, it was harder to answer his question than it probably should have been. She’d piddled at some housecleaning this morning, put the sheets in the wash but not the dryer. Cleaned and dried one load of dishes, which meant that by now there were two more loads waiting for their turn.
He shook his head without giving her time to respond. “That’s what I thought.”
“What do you mean? I didn’t say anything yet.”
“My point exactly.” He gestured to the messy counters. “Look around you. What do you see?” He grabbed a dirty pan and held it up. “Because I see dishes all the way from last night that still haven’t gotten clean.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “I washed that one this morning and then used it again for the vegetables at lunch.”
“Fine.” He set down the pan and picked up one of the large microwavable bowls. “But this is old. See? Here’s two lima beans from last night’s dinner. And it’s still sitting here on the counter. Still taking up space when all you need —” He squirted some soap into the bowl, swirled it around with some running water, and rinsed it out. “— is fifteen seconds to clean it up. And here.” He grabbed a towel. “Here’s five more seconds to dry it. See? Twenty seconds max. That goes for this pot and these mugs and this bowl of leftover breakfast cereal ...”
“All right.” She brought her sweaty hands up to her temples. “I get it. You’ve made your point.”
“Really? Because I’m not sure I have.” He stomped into the living room. “What’s this? Isn’t this the same pile of laundry that was here when we went to bed last night? And here we are almost a full twenty-four hours later, and it’s still in this exact same spot? Look at this.” He picked up a bra and twirled it around his finger. “What happens when the Porters or the Higginses or anyone else from the church stops by? Hmm? Is this what you want them to be staring at while they’re here?” He waved the bra in front of her, and she gave a halfhearted attempt to swat it away from her eyes.
“I’m not trying to be mean, and I’m not trying to complain,” he said. “But look at this place. It’s unacceptable.”
There was no appropriate response. She looked around and realized her husband was right.
“I know it’s not fun folding laundry and doing dishes all day, but do you think I’m having a blast pouring over these stupid numbers for that budget meeting?”
“I never said you were,” she mumbled.
He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I don’t want to be a demanding husband. I don’t think I’m asking too much. A clean house. Not spotless, but clean enough so that if company drops by unannounced — like you know they will — I don’t feel like I have to make excuses for my embarrassment of a wife.”
Katrina’s body tensed while Greg’s visibly deflated. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know. It’s just ...”
His not-quite apology was interrupted by a knock, followed immediately by the sound of someone opening the front door.
“Pastor Greg?”
Katrina was too numb to try to recognize the voice, and she was too tired to think about hiding that bra.
“Pastor Greg? You in there? We were just wondering if prayer meeting’s been cancelled or if you’ll be joining us tonight.”
He let out his breath. “Yeah,” he called out in his cheerful church voice. “I didn’t realize it was already that time. We’ll be right over.”