“No, no. I’m not offended. I understand. Please go on." Paula really did recognize some of herself in what Jan was saying.
“Well, I came to realize what an awful, conceited person I had become and that a person’s outside appearance isn’t what really matters. I try to look at what’s inside a person now." Jan paused again.
“What happened? What happened to change your thinking?" Paula asked with sincere interest.
“I became a Christian," Jan answered with a soft smile. “That’s the short answer." She caught a noticeable change on Paula’s face. It was a look of hesitant interest now.
“A friend’s husband died unexpectedly a few weeks ago," Jan continued. "The church, where the funeral was held for my friend's husband was having a revival, and the pastor, who conducted the memorial service asked her to attend. My friend really wasn’t all that interested in going, much less by herself. So she asked me if I would go with her. She didn‘t want to disappoint the pastor, who had been so nice to her. I had no interest whatever in going to a revival, but I felt obligated to support my friend. So I went with her." She looked at Paula with a questioning look, seeking permission to continue.
“So, what happened then?" Paula asked. She looked a little more uncomfortable and less interested now. She felt trapped into continuing the conversation. She had never had any interest in discussing faith and religion with anyone, especially a stranger.
“For the first time in my life, I realized what sin is." Jan’s face took on a more determined look.
Paula's interest was rapidly declining.
“I realized that our thoughts and attitudes are just as sinful as some of the things that we do. And I learned that pride is probably the greatest sin of all. And boy, had I ever been prideful!"
Paula thought about pride. Yes, I have pride. She never considered herself to be as beautiful or sexy looking as Jan. But she certainly never considered herself to be unattractive either. She always knew that she had artistic talent. And she considered herself to be superior in business skills, to most of her acquaintances.
“Of course the key message of a revival," Jan continued, “is that we have all sinned, and that our sin has separated us from God; from his love; and from his blessings; and that God sent his son, Jesus, to die for our sins so that we don’t have to be separated eternally from him. I’m probably telling you stuff that you already know." She looked at Paula with inquiring eyes.
Paula was hesitant to respond.
“Oh, I guess I have a vague understanding." Paula had been carried away in thought. “Yes, I suppose I’ve heard that before, that part about Jesus. I guess I never thought that much about what sin is. Hmm.” Paula tried to hint with the tone of her response, and facial language, that her curiosity was satisfied and there was no need for Jan to explain any further.
“I hadn’t thought much about sin either," Jan continued.” She caught the subtlety of Paula’s reply but bravely decided to ignore it. “I always thought that sin was killing someone or robbing a bank or something big like that. And of course those are definitely sins, but I never knew that just one little sin was enough for God to condemn me.”
“What do you mean, ‘condemn’ you?" Paula asked.
“Well, what the Bible teaches is that we’re all going to spend eternity in one of two places. Either we believe and trust in Jesus and go to Heaven when we die, or we're condemned to go someplace else because of sin.”
“You mean Hell?”
“Yes. It’s our choice. We can’t change the judgment by our self. Nothing we do, no matter how good we are, can make up for even one tiny sin. That‘s all in the Bible. Do you ever read the Bible?" Jan asked.
“No," Paula replied. “I tried to read a little, a few years ago, when I was going through something, but I couldn’t make much sense of it. Seemed like a lot of weird stuff like genealogies, and laws, and killing animals, and wars. It was boring and I gave up trying to understand it." She was increasingly uncomfortable and was plotting an end to the conversation. She sat more upright as though she were going to get up from her chair.
“Sounds like you were reading in the Old Testament. That can be heavy reading. I’ve been going to a beginner’s Bible study class. We’re reading the book of John in the New Testament. It’s a lot easier to understand. Sometimes we read from the Old Testament in order to better understand something. You might like that kind of Bible study." She checked Paula’s face. She noticed that Paula began to shift her position in her seat.
“I might," Paula acknowledged. She felt intimidated now, and didn’t like the feeling of being cornered. She hadn’t expected the conversation to be so involved. It started to produce feelings of anxiety and remorse. She decided that it was time to bring the discussion to a close. “Should think about it, I guess." She rose from her chair.
Jan knew that Paula was ill at ease. She remembered what that felt like, when she attended the revival. She didn’t enjoy seeing Paula uncomfortable. She rose from her chair too. “Well, that’s pretty much why I said what I did about not being interested in modeling. It’s just seems too— I don’t know. For me, it would just feel wrong." She looked at Paula‘s face for understanding.
“I think I see what you mean." Paula stepped away from her desk. “Thanks for sharing that with me. And thanks again for the purchase. I hope the painting pleases your friend."
Jan followed Paula's lead toward the door.
“I think it will help to take his mind off of his health problems. I hope so anyhow," Jan said.
“Oh, he has serious health issues?" Paula asked.
“Yes. Very. I’m afraid it may be life threatening." They reached the front door. “But, on the bright side, I believe he’s saved.”
“I’m sorry to hear that your friend is so ill. Thanks again for your purchase. Take care and come back again," Paula said as they parted.
Afterward, Paula sat down at her desk and replayed the conversation in her mind. She hadn’t thought much about Heaven or Hell since Len was killed. When that happened, she naturally thought about her own death. She always considered herself to be a decent person. She didn’t dislike anyone or mistreat people. So it never occurred to her that she could go to an afterlife of punishment. Jan’s description of pride as a terrible sin troubled her. Paula knew that she had her fair share of pride. “Doesn’t everyone have pride? Yes, she answered her own question, and a lot of people are ‘condemned‘ too, she recalled Jan's words. I probably should have asked her more about that. I should have at least asked her full name.
Paula busied herself rearranging paintings and brushed aside troubling questions that arose as a result of her conversation with Jan.
A couple with a little girl came into the store in late afternoon and looked around without buying anything. They reminded Paula of Karen, Stan and Jenny. That caused her to reflect on the gravity of Stan’s medical condition. Karen gave her the impression that it could be fatal. The thought of his possible death, steered her thoughts back to the conversation with Jan. Her friend, the girl told her, also had a potentially fatal condition. But she thinks ‘he’s saved’.
In all their years of close friendship, Paula and Karen had never discussed religion or life after death. Paula wondered if Stan were to die, would he go to Heaven or to the other place. That caused her to think about Len. Is he in Heaven or someplace else?
Disturbing memories and questions began to overwhelm her. She hurriedly locked the front door and left the store.
Chapter 27
Jan admired her purchase as she rode home on the train. She hadn’t noticed the artist’s signature until now. Hmm, she thought. It was the same as the painting at her apartment. She could hardly wait to get home, change clothes, go to Stan’s apartment and give him the painting. She wished that he had a phone so she could tell him that she was coming. Maybe I can take him out to supper too, she though
t.
A major storm was brewing in the area. Strong winds tugged at Jan and the painting when she left the Elm Street train stop. She had to really hang on to the painting to keep from losing it. Pieces of twigs and leaves sailed through the air. Jan’s hair blew around her face. She held the painting with one hand and her purse and skirt with the other. She walked briskly from the station to her apartment. She noted that there weren’t many clouds in the sky, but clearly a storm was developing.
“Whew!" she said, as wind slammed the front door of her apartment building behind her. Once inside, she locked the door to her apartment and examined the painting. No damage had been done. She glanced at her tousled hair in a hallway mirror and smiled to herself.
“Me model?" she said mockingly, and flipped her hair around her face with her hand.
She went into her bedroom to change clothes and noticed that a message light was blinking on her answering machine. She pushed a button on the machine and removed her skirt and blouse while Karen’s recording played.
“Please call me when you get this, Jan. Thanks.” The second message ended.
“What would Karen Bronsky want with me?" Jan wondered aloud. She continued to wonder about that as she finished changing clothes. She dressed in faded blue jeans and a pink cotton pullover blouse. While she tied her tennis shoes, she began to invent objections and advice for possible directions that the conversation with Karen might take. She prayed for divine help to suppress feelings of anger toward Karen that had developed since she saw Stan. She wondered if the messages from Karen could somehow be an answer to her morning prayers for him. Perhaps God intended for her to help bring reason to Karen. Yes, I do think this is you God, she thought.
Jan dialed the first number that Karen had recorded.
“Chantley Gallery. Our hours are ten to five, Tuesday through Saturday,” a recording told her. She hung up.
Chantley Gallery? That’s weird. She thought that she must have dialed the wrong number and tried again with the same result.
“Is this some kind of prank?” she asked aloud.
She reluctantly and slowly dialed the second number that Karen had recorded.
Karen rushed to grab her ringing phone. “Hello," she answered hopefully. Jenny was making loud playful noises in the background. “Shh,” Karen pleaded with her.
“Is this Karen?" Jan asked, in her southern drawl. For just a fraction of a second, jealousy and suspicion did their best to take control of Karen‘s mind.
“Yes. Yes it is," she quickly replied. “Is this Jan?”
“Yes it is. I got your message. What was it you wanted to talk about?" There was a brief silence because Karen hadn’t fully prepared for what she would say and Jan was still bewildered over her previous phone connection to the gallery.
“Jan, the reason I called is to find out if you might know how to get in touch with Stan. I just found out that he is really sick and I desperately need to locate him. Oh, I’m sorry. You probably wouldn’t know. Our house burned a couple of months ago and we’ve not— I’ve been staying with my mother.”
“As a matter of fact, I do have Stan’s address," Jan interrupted. “I ran into him yesterday, on the train. I could see that he wasn‘t well. He actually had a attack while I was with him. Scared me to death. And I asked him to give me his address so I could check up on him.”
“Oh my God, Jan! That's wonderful! I am so glad! I mean I’m so glad that you know how to reach him. I’ve tried every way I know to find him.“
“He told me all about it, Karen. I mean his health and the house and all. He told me about his headaches and the doctors and the tests. I felt so sorry for him. I bought a sort of get well gift for him this afternoon. It's a painting. I was just getting ready to go up there and check on him, and give him the painting. He said that he doesn’t have a phone. His place is up north. He said that it’s a dreary place in a bad neighborhood. If you have a pen and pap—”
“I’ve got a pen, Jan. But listen, could I just pick you up and we can drive there together? We can talk more on the way. I would really appreciate it." Karen felt that she needed to discuss more with Jan, than she wanted to take time to do over the phone.
“Sure. That’s fine with me, Karen. My address is 27—”
“I know," Karen interrupted. “I got it from the phone book. I can be there in thirty minutes or less.”
“That’s good with me," Jan chimed.
“Great! See you in thirty minutes." Karen felt elated.
Finally! Oh God, please let him be alright. And please help him to forgive me.
After twenty minutes had passed, Jan walked out to the street carrying the painting. The wind was gushing more fiercely now. A twig broke from a nearby pin oak and swept across the top of Jan’s head then collided with the back side of the painting. She turned and ran back into the house to find a cover for the painting. She stuffed it into a pillow case and went back outside.
Leaves, twigs and debris swirled in the air in all directions. Scatterings were accumulating on the front lawn of the apartment building and on the streets and sidewalks. Trees bent, swayed and twisted perilously under the force of the strong wind. The sky was filled with ominous clouds.
Karen spotted Jan standing on the sidewalk, leaning into the wind. She hurriedly pulled her car to the curb and shoved the passenger door open for Jan. Jenny was asleep in her car seat in back of Karen.
“Whew!" Jan said as she slid into the passenger’s seat. Karen quickly shushed Jan, pointing to the back seat.
“Aw-w. Isn’t she sweet?" Jan whispered, looking over her shoulder with a look of affection. Then she turned back toward Karen. “This wind is something else!"
“I know," Karen replied softly. “It almost blew me off the road. They said on the radio, that there are possible tornadoes in the area." She looked at Jan. “Thank you so much, Jan. You have no idea how grateful I am that you called and that you know how to reach Stan.
Jan handed a small piece of paper to Karen. She thought that she saw tears welling up in Karen’s eyes.
“This is Stan's address. I think we probably want to go north on the parkway and then east on Wellington." She continued to check Karen’s eyes.
“Thanks."
They rode in silence for several minutes. Finally Karen broke the silence.
“Jan, did Stan tell you that I left him or why?”
“He basically said that it was because he was fired and then he caught the house on fire. But—”
“That’s only part of it, Jan." Karen interrupted and then hesitated. “God, I don’t know if I should tell—”
“Karen, listen. I don’t have to know anything. I just know that it was largely my fault that Stan lost his job. And I feel terrible about it.”
“What do you mean, it was your fault?" Karen fought back suspicious thoughts. “Jan, you do know that Stan destroyed company property, and that CTC sued him for doing that?" Her voice was becoming louder and she caught herself. She checked Jenny in the rear view mirror and softened her speech again.
“Yes, I know all about that. But listen Karen, that was my fault. I had let my work deteriorate, until Stan had to put out extra effort to keep both of our projects from missing key deadlines. And Keith was just as bad as me. I think Stan just reached a breaking point. Even without the headaches he was having, which I did not know about then, it was all a terrible strain on him. And Charlie and Bob were pressuring him, constantly. I know it‘s too little too late, but I begged Stan yesterday, to forgive me. It was totally unfair what happened to him, and to Bob too. I hope you can forgive me too, Karen.”
Karen tried to digest this new and totally unexpected information, and to fit it in with all the wrong understandings that she had held for weeks and months. The new information magnified the personal guilt that she felt, because of her unfounded suspicions and wrong assumptions about Stan, and abo
ut Jan.
“Watch out!" Jan quietly warned, pointing to a large tree limb that blew onto the road just ahead. Karen swerved to miss the limb. The car rocked and weaved in the increasing gusts.
“Jan, I—I’ve been, absolutely unfair in— I totally misunderstood some things, a lot of things. I only found out yesterday about Stan’s medical problem. When I look back now, I can see where I jumped to wrong conclusions. I thought that Stan was having— I thought he was losing interest in me, and in Jenny too. We just kept spending less and less time with each other. And it seemed like we just weren’t communicating on the same wave length. The first inkling I had, that something was wrong with Stan, was the day he quit his job. And then, stupid me—I thought he was drunk or on drugs or something. I had already made up my mind to leave him though. See, I honest to God thought that he was having an affair or something."
Oh God, I hope she doesn’t ask me, who I thought the woman was. Karen hurried to move on with the conversation to avoid that embarrassment. “I was wrong about him being drunk. I know that now. I just met yesterday with Dr. Ravit, and he told me about Stan’s problems, and tests, and about the pain medication that Stan has been taking. Jan, I was totally wrong about why Stan was coming home late all the time. I was wrong about why he didn’t have the time or energy for us. I was wrong about him being drunk or on drugs. I was wrong about everything." She threw both hands into the air momentarily and quickly took the wheel again. “I just blew it, Jan." Her eyes were filled with tears now and some began to make their way down her face. Jan took a tissue from her purse and handed it to Karen.
“You’re not the first person to ever make a mistake," Jan sympathized. “Humans are just mortal beings and we all make mistakes. Karen, most of my life I’ve misjudged people. My problem was my own pride and vanity. Everything I observed about people or situations was filtered through the lens of my own flaws. Thank God, he helped me to see what a vain, prideful person I was and helped me to change. That‘s when I realized how terrible I had treated Stan.”