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FIVE MINUTES AFTER three, and still Miles hadn’t shown up to the church for their lesson. Maybe she’d misunderstood. Maybe he was taking the week off because of Christmas, except that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t the whole point of taking lessons now because classes were out and he had the extra time?
Well, she wasn’t going to waste the gas to drive over to the school a second afternoon in a row.
At least she and Greg had been on better terms. He came home from last night’s prayer meeting a little more subdued, a little more reasonable. If only she could live with the man he pretended to be behind the pulpit each Sunday.
But the yelling had stopped. And he’d made more effort than usual at pillow talk, which was also an improvement. It wasn’t perfect, but what marriage was? She remembered a lesson he’d taught all the way back during her high-school days in his youth group. Change the things you can change, then thank God for the things you can’t. It was simple and trite, but there was some truth to it. There was no magic formula that would transform her husband into the loving, caring, sensitive man she wanted him to be. She just had to make the best of what life had given her and do so in a way that didn’t leave her bitter.
That was her biggest struggle right now. She’d been convicted at last night’s prayer meeting about how resentful she’d grown, not only of her husband but of the people in Orchard Grove. Even if Greg’s position here was far more stressful than either of them could have anticipated, it wasn’t fair to blame the church for their marriage problems. Every couple had to learn to cope with stress. You couldn’t live your whole life in a honeymoon, avoiding anything remotely upsetting.
Like the miscarriage. So many of their problems had started last October, when Katrina was mourning by herself, unable to talk to her husband, unwilling to share her sorrows with the members of her church. As easy as it might be to villainize Greg and the people he worked for, she was far from flawless herself.
She’d confessed her bitterness and resentment to God at the prayer meeting last night, then came home and continued praying before Greg came to join her in bed. Once she started dwelling on her sins, once she really started to see herself as God did, she wondered if she’d ever reach the end of her list of faults.
Bitterness toward her husband. Bitterness toward nearly every member of his church. Resentment over the way she and Greg had been treated. Anger over the miscarriage. Laziness that kept her house in such a deplorable state her husband was embarrassed. Unforgiveness over the way he insisted on pointing out her faults.
The problem with sins was they were like dirty dishes. No matter how many you confessed, there were still more to be forgiven for the next day. Katrina had started the morning after the prayer meeting grumpy, and it was actually Greg who’d tried to cheer her up while he got dressed for the day. His jokes were even cornier than normal, and his attempt at humor did nothing to heal the wounds his words had inflicted when they fought last night, but at least he was making the effort.
Which was more than Katrina could say about herself.
Once he left for the men’s breakfast, she resolved to be productive around the house, reminding herself that things could be so much worse.
At least she didn’t have her mom breathing down her neck every minute of the day. Orchard Grove, as flawed as it might be, was still better than life under her mother. Being told what to wear, having every outfit and piece of jewelry pre-selected and pre-approved. Being kept at home so she wouldn’t get sick before a big audition, prevented from having any fun because she might fall and break her wrist. At certain points during her teen years, Katrina had daydreamed about smashing one of her fingers on purpose just to spite her mother.
It was never a good idea to spend this much time dwelling on the past. Katrina looked up at the sanctuary clock. No Miles this time either. She’d go home and give him a ring. As much as she hated to do it, she might as well stop wasting time waiting for a lesson that wasn’t going to take place. Besides, her fear of making a simple phone call was petty and immature, just like so many other things about her.
She hadn’t even bothered bringing Dmitry over to the church, guessing that the afternoon would turn out the way it did. She stopped by Greg’s office on her way out and gave a little knock.
“Come in,” he called. At least this time he took the time to look up from his work and give her a smile. “Hey, Mouse. You already done with your lesson? That was fast. I didn’t even hear you.”
“He didn’t show up again.” She searched his face, trying to discern his reaction.
A shrug. “You should call. That’s not very professional of him.”
She didn’t respond.
“You going home then?”
“Yeah.” She paused before shutting him back in his office. “How’s your day going? How’s budget stuff?”
“Oh, that’s all done and taken care of.”
“Did you get Nancy those receipts on time?”
“Yeah. Thanks for copying them. It’ll be really nice to have that reimbursement check. I don’t even know what I’m going to buy you for Christmas yet.”
“I’ve already said you don’t have to get me anything.”
“But I want to. I hate to think of the way you grew up, knowing that I can’t give you that kind of lifestyle.”
“This is what I chose.”
“I know, but you deserve better.” He reached his hands out, and she automatically stepped forward to accept his hug. “I want to give you every good thing in the world. I love you, Mouse. I love you so much.”
She would have given up music lessons for the rest of her life if she could have felt at that moment a fraction of the passion and romance they’d shared before their wedding. “I love you, too,” she answered.
And my name’s not Mouse, she wanted to add, but like always, her voice refused to cooperate.