He had never been rude before, and it had stunned her. Then there were his eyes . . . they had been darker than she had ever seen them. She poured him some coffee, but he didn’t touch that either. It was as though anything she offered him was tainted and untouchable. Nothing she did was good enough.
It was like living with Grandma Helene. Nothing was ever good enough. . . .
Nora didn’t want to think about the past. She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to figure out how to get Annie home again and how to make Fred forgive her.
Fred’s words rang in her ears. “You’re always sorry, Nora, but nothing ever changes. Just once, I’d like to see you think about someone other than yourself. I’d like to see some effort . . .” He had started to say more, but she had been so distraught, she had fled into the living room and flung herself into the swivel rocker. She thought he would follow her and say he was sorry for upsetting her. That’s what he usually did. But last night, Fred went upstairs and closed the bedroom door. When she went up and asked him whether he cared how she felt, all he said was, “I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”
Tired? Of what?
Of her?
No one understood her. No one cared.
Fighting tears, Nora glanced around Pastor Burnie’s office. Three walls were covered with bookcases laden with volumes neatly arranged in categories: family, Bible studies, commentaries, devotionals, prayer, biographies. Two entire shelves behind Pastor Burnie’s desk held various versions and editions of the Bible: King James, New International Version, The Living Bible, New American Standard, Phillips, New Living Translation, The Jerusalem Bible, TouchPoint. Nora frowned. How many Bibles does one man need? Of course, the man was a pastor . . . perhaps he collected them. One Bible was enough for normal people. More than enough. She had tried reading it once—after all, it was supposed to be classic literature—but it was boring.
What was taking Pastor Burnie so long? Nora stood up and paced. The wall behind the couch on which she was sitting had family pictures on it. The beatific face of Sally Burnie annoyed her, as did the laughing faces of the Burnies’ son and daughter. Here and there about the room were mementos from trips Pastor Burnie and his family had taken to Israel, Africa, Greece, an Indian reservation in New Mexico, an orphanage in Honduras. They stood there, in every picture, smiling, always smiling.
How did they manage to be so happy? She knew their lives hadn’t always been easy. Sally had multiple sclerosis. Pastor Burnie’s salary was a fraction of what Fred made, yet they got by. The Burnies’ son had learning disabilities, and though their daughter was quite intelligent—Nora studied the girl’s features in the photos on the wall—well, she would need her brains. Nora didn’t understand it. How could the Burnies all be so happy when so many things were so clearly wrong?
Why can’t I be happy? What have I ever done to deserve the misery I live with on a daily basis?
She heard Pastor Burnie in the outer office. It was about time. He entered his office. “Hello, Nora.” He closed the door quietly behind him. “I’m sorry for the delay. We needed to have one of the deaconesses take over the class this morning. I had to give her a quick outline of what I was going to cover. Now, how can I help you?”
She burst into tears. She hadn’t meant to cry, but what could she do when she was so unhappy? Dr. Leeds sometimes put his arms around her and let her cry it out.
“Has something happened to Fred?” Pastor Burnie’s tone was concerned, though he kept his distance.
Nora clenched her hands in her lap. “Fred is just fine. Everything is business as usual. Annie left home. Had you heard that yet? Her father spent a ridiculous amount of money on a car for her, and she just got in it and drove away without so much as a backward glance. She’s living with a hippie in San Francisco, of all places. I’m so disappointed. I thought my daughter had a conscience.”
“She’s living with Susan Carter,” he said quietly. “I know her. And her family. Susan’s been well grounded.”
Nora looked at him. “So was her brother Sam. Do you remember him? He’s caused that family nothing but grief. Did you know he was in jail for a while?”
Pastor Burnie’s expression made Nora’s face go hot. She wasn’t gossiping! It was the truth about Sam Carter. How could the pastor look at her as though she were carrying tales he didn’t want to hear? He went around his desk and sat down. Nora felt as though a wall had gone up between them. She was on one side; he was on the other. She had never felt so uncomfortable and confused in her life. She couldn’t look him straight in the eyes.
What had she done to feel so ashamed? She dabbed at her nose delicately with her lace hankie. Maybe Pastor Burnie didn’t understand the whole picture. He’d be more sympathetic when he did. “Anne had a scholarship to Wellesley. All those years of hard work, and she threw it away.”
“College isn’t for everyone.”
“It is most certainly for Anne-Lynn.”
“You seem very certain of that.”
His neutral tone irritated her. “Of course, I’m certain! It’s what she’s always wanted. It’s why we worked so hard. She’s always had outstanding grades. And when she didn’t, I made sure she had a tutor. She’s belonged to the best clubs. What girl wouldn’t want an opportunity to go to a prestigious school like Wellesley? Any girl with an ounce of sense would jump at the chance. Anne-Lynn said she’d go.”
“Do you think Annie might have said that to please you, Nora?”
What was he driving at? “If she wanted to please me, she wouldn’t be taking art classes in San Francisco. That certainly doesn’t please me. What use is that going to be to her? Besides, she hasn’t any talent.” The words came out before she had time to think how they would sound. She saw the pastor’s eyes flicker. Her face heated once more. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just upset. That’s all. Sometimes things come out badly when I’m upset.”
She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose delicately. “I suppose some might say Anne can draw a little, but you can’t make a living at it. She’s only opening herself up to rejection. I don’t want to see her hurt. I want to see her succeed.”
Pastor Burnie put one hand over the other on his desk blotter and closed his eyes. Was he praying? Nora cleared her throat nervously. He raised his head slightly and looked at her. “Nora, all the answers to your problems are found in a new relationship with God.”
What was that supposed to mean? “I know God.”
“Do you?”
“Of course, I do! I’ve been going to this church for five years. Have you any idea how much money Fred and I have given? And I’ve been on all the most important committees.”
“People come to church for all kinds of reasons. It would help if you could tell me what you believe.”
“Believe about what?”
“About Jesus Christ.”
“This is ridiculous.” Nora felt cold with shock at the implications. “You know what I believe. I believe what everyone else who goes here believes.” She was completely at a loss as to what more she could say. And yet Pastor Burnie sat, waiting. Hadn’t she said enough? Was this a trick question? Furious, she glared at him. She wasn’t a Sunday school child to be tested on her recitation of the Apostle’s Creed or the Ten Commandments. She was an adult, for heaven’s sake! “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’m not asking you to recite anything, Nora.” His smile seemed almost tender. “What I do need is some idea of where you stand with the Lord.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Considering how my life is going, I would say I don’t count with God at all. He certainly hasn’t shown me any favors lately. No matter what I do, it’s never enough to change anything.” She stood up and moved to the window overlooking the street.
“What brought you here?”
“Desperation.” Why not tell him the truth? Maybe he wouldn’t be so holier-than-thou if he knew he was her last choice. “My therapist didn’t have time for me today, and I needed h
elp. That’s why I came to you. I don’t mean to sound insulting, but that’s the truth.” Why should she apologize for it, especially after he’d left her waiting for twenty minutes?
“Can you tell me what your problem is?”
She turned and saw the compassion in his eyes. Finally, someone willing to listen, someone willing to help her solve everything. Dr. Leeds hadn’t been able to do it. Maybe Pastor Burnie could. “There are so many, starting with my own miserable childhood.”
“Were you abused?”
“I wasn’t beaten or molested, if that’s what you mean, but I was most certainly neglected.” She turned away and looked out the window. “My mother was gone early every morning and came home about the time my grandmother and I were making supper. And then she’d go out in her garden. My mother was never interested in me or my brother, you see. She just handed us over to my grandmother and went off to live her own life as she pleased.”
She faced him again. “Anne-Lynn takes after her. What’s worse, she is now spending weekends with my mother, who is undoubtedly poisoning her mind with lies. I know because Anne-Lynn hardly ever returns my telephone calls.” Her heart ached.
“Is that why you’re here today?”
“No. Partly. It’s her fault . . .” She shook her head and swallowed convulsively. Pastor Burnie looked utterly confused. “It’s my mother’s fault,” she said, hoping that would make it clear for him. “Fred’s angry with me over some silly business function I missed. I went to speak to my mother about Anne-Lynn and was so upset afterward that I forgot all about the dinner. Now Fred hardly speaks to me. He’s being so unreasonable. Everything is falling apart. No matter how much I do for everyone, no one seems to care about me!”
“What do you want me to do, Nora?”
He looked and sounded so sincere, but hadn’t he been listening? She wanted him to tell her how to fix everything! She wanted him to say he would come to the house and talk to Fred and make him behave like a loving husband again. She wanted her pastor to talk to Anne-Lynn and make her come home and behave like a loving and dutiful daughter. But when she looked into Pastor Burnie’s eyes, she couldn’t say all that because she had the feeling he wouldn’t even consider doing it.
Oh, why had she come at all?
Maybe all she really wanted was the chance to talk about how miserable she was. She wanted an empathetic listener. She wanted someone to understand her and stand with her against those hurting her. At least Dr. Leeds agreed it had all started with her mother.
She rubbed at her temples. When had her life gotten so out of control? Why did everyone she loved turn away from her? Husbands, children . . . her own mother had been the first one to reject her.
“Nora?”
“I don’t know, Pastor Burnie. I just don’t know anything anymore.”
“That’s a beginning.”
She turned and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes we have to be knocked down before we look up.”
She frowned. What was he saying to her?
“I can give you one certainty, Nora. God loves you. I can assure you the answers to all your problems are found in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Until the center of your life changes from you to the Lord Jesus, you’re only going to repeat the same mistakes and have the same heartache over and over again. It’s the condition of all flesh. But God loves you. He wants a personal relationship with you. He’s made that possible through Jesus Christ’s death on the cross. And by His resurrection, He’s shown that you have nothing to fear from Him when you come for His love and guidance.”
There it was again: the insinuation that she was selfish. And what did Pastor Burnie mean about repeating the same mistakes? What was he talking about? She hadn’t come to hear a Sunday school lesson. She didn’t need him preaching at her. Was he so stupid he didn’t know she was already a Christian? She had been sitting in the pews of this church for five years! Hadn’t Pastor Burnie heard what she told him? Wasn’t he listening at all?
“God doesn’t want part of you now and then, Nora. He wants all of you all the time. That’s what it means to ask Jesus into your heart.”
“Meaning what? I’m supposed to spend every day at a women’s Bible study or involved in some kind of missions work?”
He gave her that look again. Sad. Enlightened. It was as though he saw something in her of which she was not the least aware. “I didn’t say that, Nora. I’m not speaking about works but about a relationship.”
“A relationship you don’t think I have. Isn’t that right?” She allowed her anger to build. She was safe and strong inside her anger. She felt in control. How dare the pastor speak to her like this? She thought about all the times other people had said hurtful things to her, and the anger grew even more—burning coals that she fanned into flame.
People had always persecuted her. Her own pastor didn’t even try to understand her pain and sorrow. Where was his Christian compassion? Where was the support? Shouldn’t he feel some righteous indignation over how meanly she was being treated by her daughter and husband? Didn’t it say in the Bible to honor thy mother?
Her mouth trembled. “I come to you in desperate need of help and all you can say is I need a relationship with Jesus? How dare you question my faith?” Her voice rose slightly. “After all I’ve done for this church over the years, how dare you question me about anything to do with religion?” Clenching her hands, she pressed down the urge to curse him.
“I’m a pastor, Nora. It’s my calling to try to draw a lost lamb back into the flock.”
“I’m not the one who’s lost! You should be talking to Anne-Lynn. But then, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?”
“On the contrary.”
Trembling violently, Nora snatched up her purse from the couch. “I should’ve known better than to come here. What do you know about counseling?”
Pastor Burnie’s secretary glanced up as Nora yanked the door open. The woman’s hands froze over the computer keyboard as Nora came out of the office. Ignoring her, Nora kept walking. Going out the doors of the church, she marched across the parking lot to her Lexus. Slipping into the driver’s seat, she slammed the door and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life. The tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking lot onto the main street. Someone pulled off a side street in front of her so that she had to slam on her brakes. Blasting her horn, Nora cursed as she pulled around the old Ford. “Stupid old fool! They should get these people off the road!”
She drove around for over an hour before deciding to go to the mall. She would walk and give herself time to think. Maybe she’d feel better if she bought a new dress. Something green. Fred liked green. Better yet, something blue. She liked blue.
She wandered through the stores, looking at the merchandise. Nothing appealed to her. Finally, weary and depressed, she stopped at the food court and bought a sweet roll and a cup of coffee. Sitting by herself, she watched the beehive activity of mothers with their children, groups of teenage girls giggling and watching the boys, boys watching the girls, older women sitting together and talking, a new mother nursing her baby in a quiet corner.
Hands trembling, she lifted her Styrofoam cup to her lips and sipped the hot fluid cautiously. She had never felt so alone before.
You can tell a tree by its fruit.
Where had she heard that? It sounded like something her mother would have said. She had always tossed out foolish little comments that didn’t seem to go with the conversation.
“Good soil helps develop strong roots. . . .”
“Without proper pruning, these bushes won’t bear healthy blossoms. . . .”
“Things grow stronger with some manure.”
Nora had never cared about gardening.
“Come out in the garden with me, Eleanor. I want to teach you . . .”
Teach her what? How to dig in the dirt? How to tie up vines and plant vegetables she wouldn’t eat? How to g
raft? How to transplant seedlings from the apricot or plum tree? Who wanted sprouts when they could buy a small tree from a nursery for a couple of bucks?
Her mother had never bothered to find out what interests she had. Not once had she taken Nora to a concert or a ballet, nor did her mother even consider the fact that Nora longed to go to college.
Interesting that the garden flourished while there had never been enough money for anything Nora wanted. As soon as she was old enough, Nora had gone to work at a fabric store and spent every break watching the woman who demonstrated the sewing machines. Grandma Reinhardt had already taught Nora the rudiments of dressmaking. In home economics classes in high school, Nora had learned most of what she needed to make her own clothing. No ragged edges for her. She finished every seam, lined up plaids, and picked the best and most adaptable patterns. Thankfully, she had had enough talent that she could make dresses that looked as though they had been purchased off the racks at Macy’s or Capwell’s. By the time she was a junior in high school, she had achieved enough skill that not one of her friends suspected that the stylish clothes she wore were homemade.
Nora remembered one high moment in her life when Miss Wentworth, her home-economics teacher, had told her that she had the talent to be a designer. Nora had warmed at such praise, though she’d had no illusions about going to school in New York or even to a local college.
She had sworn to herself then that someday she would shop for herself and her children at the best stores. She would make sure no one in her family ever wanted for all the things she had missed during her childhood. They would live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood, have nice store-bought clothes, dancing lessons, season tickets to concerts and ballets, trips to museums, poolside parties at a country club, and a bachelor of arts from a prestigious college. No child of hers would go without anything money could buy.
It had cost her dearly, but she had kept that promise. Her first husband had run from the responsibility; her second had rebelled. But she had never wavered. Not that her children had an ounce of gratitude for all she had sacrificed for them. She had put them ahead of everyone and everything else in her life, hadn’t she? Wasn’t Fred angry because she had put Anne before him? She was so stressed over her daughter’s mutiny that she hadn’t thought about her own duties to her husband. And did Anne care what anguish she was causing? No, of course not. Anne didn’t care about anyone but herself. She just waltzed away without so much as a “Thank you, Mother,” for all the years of driving her to gymnastics and dancing and music classes, drilling her with lessons, typing out applications, and getting records in order. Not to mention the money! Thousands of dollars wasted. Nora could have gone around the world on what she had spent on her ungrateful daughter!