“Nothings wrong. It’s just that …” Sherry made a face and lowered her voice. “I had no idea how many people I’d never met in our own church! I only recognize one or two of the folks here. And we’ve all been going to Trinity for years.”
“It really is hard to get to know people in a church our size. It’s so important to get plugged into a small group—that’s where community is built.” Lisa handed her a tray laden with savory breads, fruit, and veggies, and pointed toward the den. “Why don’t you take this in there and make yourself popular with everyone? We’ll start up in just a few minutes.”
Ten minutes later, each member of the group took a moment to tell the new couple a little about themselves. Sherry tried to keep all the names straight, but she forgot half of them within seconds of their introduction. There were the young newlyweds, the single mom with three kids, the technology manager Doug had been speaking to, an older husband and wife that had just returned from three years on the mission field, and several other people that lived within a few miles of the Elliotts’.
Finally, Eric turned to Sherry and Doug. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourselves? What you do for a living, where you live, about your family, how you came to know the Lord … all that sort of thing.”
Doug glanced at Sherry and took her hand. “Well, I’m Doug Turner, and this is my wife Sherry. I guess I’ll start. I’m the CFO of an information and technology services company downtown …”
For the next few minutes, he and Sherry shared some brief details about their lives. They held hands and neither gave any indication of the distance that had grown between them. For tonight, at least, they would act as if everything was normal. And suddenly, Sherry realized, it felt normal.
As Eric led the group in a discussion time, Sherry could feel herself relaxing in the warmth and candor of those around her. She actually heard the newlyweds share how tough the last few months had been for their marriage, how many expectations had been shattered, how each had come from broken homes and were terrified of the same thing happening to them.
An older wife leaned over and patted the young woman on the knee, speaking words of encouragement.
Sherry found herself wishing that someone knew her well enough to reach out and comfort her, encourage her, and support her in what she was going through.
What do you think Lisa is there fan silly?
Sherry looked across the room and caught Lisa’s eye. Her friend smiled, and Sherry felt almost as if Lisa could read her mind. She felt her cheeks turning pink, and turned her attention back to the discussion at hand.
Doug held Sherry’s hand and listened with veiled interest to the advice the newlyweds received. He could not, of course, let on that he was worried about the tension in his own marriage. But he could listen.
Ten minutes later the topic turned to fathering. Eric asked everyone to describe how their experience with their father had affected their view of God as the ultimate Father. When it was Doug’s turn, he could feel Sherry grow still by his side, could feel her support in the way she leaned against him, the way she squeezed his hand.
“Well …” Doug gave a self-conscious laugh and rubbed his hand over his hair. “This is actually a bit hard for me to share, since I don’t know you all very well.”
“You don’t need to share anything you don’t want to, Doug,” Eric said. “I should’ve made that clear.”
“Well, I’ll just say this. As you can probably guess from my reaction, I didn’t have a great relationship with my father. He was never abusive or anything like that, he was just distant. He worked all the time, was traveling all the time. And when he did come home, he would be so critical. My grades were never good enough, that kind of thing. I spent all of my childhood trying to please him, hoping that this time he’d give me a hug and say ‘well done.’ ” Doug shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “But that never happened. I finally just learned to accept it, so it would stop bothering me.”
Lisa gave Doug a sad smile. “That must’ve been so hard. Did that affect your view of God at all? You said you’d been a believer since childhood?”
“I was a believer, but yes, I guess that did affect my view of God. It took years before I could grasp the concept that God loved me whether or not I did things right. I guess you could say I had a real works-oriented view of the Lord. I did good, He loved me; I did something wrong, He didn’t.”
“I know that happens a lot,” Eric said, “but it still hurts to hear it. God is so loving toward us no matter what we do!”
“I know that now.” Doug shrugged again. “But it took a long time.”
“Well, thanks for being so honest.”
Doug could feel embarrassment rising. They probably thought he was a phony.
After a time of group prayer to close out the meeting, people began talking in animated tones, looking in no hurry to leave. It was a Friday night, after all.
One couple with a new baby excused themselves, but the rest continued to chat while Lisa went to make a new round of hot chocolate and decaf coffee. Sherry found herself laughing along with the many stories and jokes. Doug even chipped in a couple of quips about the vagaries of the technology world, drawing chuckles.
A few minutes later, one woman was finishing a story about all the problems they’d found with their new house, once they moved in.
“And the downstairs sink didn’t work, the bedroom windows wouldn’t open, and all the support beams on the deck were rotten! We were beside ourselves, trying to figure out how to fix everything, until two investigators showed up at our door asking questions about our inspector. It turns out, he was the contractor’s brother and both had been under state investigation for a year! Thank goodness, once we knew it was fraud, our home insurance covered all the repairs.”
Sherry put a hand to her head. “It’s amazing you can laugh about it.”
“I can now. You should’ve seen us a couple of months ago!”
“I know what you mean. Last week our kitchen sink and dishwasher shut down. No water where it was supposed to be, but lots of flooding where it wasn’t supposed to be. So Doug decides he’ll crawl under the sink and try to fix the problem.” Sherry laughed. “Now this is the man who doesn’t know a screwdriver from a socket wrench, but that doesn’t phase him! He wouldn’t even look at a book to figure out what to do. He just gets the toolbox—actually he had to borrow our neighbor’s—and starts banging away. But Doug was in way over his head. His dad can fix anything, but Doug’s just the opposite. He’s a great businessman, but when it comes to home repairs, he’s totally clueless.”
She flashed Doug a teasing grin,
“So anyway, he tried his best, but nothing worked. And then he couldn’t figure out how to put all the pieces back together! We finally had to call a plumber who charged us this insane amount to fix the original problem, and all the things Doug had broken, banging away for three hours.”
Doug waited until Sherry finished the story, afraid that she might say something even worse. When she was done, he excused himself to find the bathroom.
His back was ramrod stiff. Fine. That was the last time he tried to figure out a homeowner project, get soaking wet, and make his back ache for three hours to try to get his wife a working sink. They could spend all their money on contractors from then on, for all he cared.
Sherry watched as Doug left the room. Couldn’t he take a little teasing?
The missionary wife gave Sherry a short smile. “You know, my husband wasn’t much good with tools either until a few years ago. But out in the field, we had no other choice. So by trial and error, he learned how to fix all sorts of things—even our car!” She looked around at the group, her voice proud. “He’s amazing now. You should see him. He can poke around with his tools and almost always have the car fixed in no time.”
There were plenty of pats on the back for her husband, who looked embarrassed.
She glanced again at Sherry, her eyes kind. “I bet Doug
would be the same way if he had the chance to make his mistakes. Trial and error is sometimes the best way to learn.”
Sherry suddenly felt about two inches tall. Her face flushed again.
“I’m sure you’re right. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Dessert everyone!” Lisa walked in with a tray of cookies.
Sherry watched, glum, as Doug returned to the room, but stayed away from her. She rose and edged her way over to him. “I’m sorry. I just realized that I—”
“You made me feel so stupid.” Doug had his arms crossed over his chest. He kept his head turned toward the room and away from her. “Great first impression. I can imagine what everyone thinks of me now.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You think about everything. All the time!”
“I know.” Sherry put a hand on his arm, but he didn’t budge. “It was just a joke, though. Just a joke about plumbing. I can’t believe it would make that much of a difference to anyone.”
“Then you’re the one that’s clueless this time.” He stalked off without another word.
Doug went into the kitchen to get a drink. Eric passed him on the way back out to the den. “Hey, Doug, can you go grab another pack of napkins from the pantry?”
“Uh—sure.” He found the door to the walk-in pantry, fumbled around for a light, and stood in the small room, staring at the shelves laden with canned goods, drinks, paper products. He could hear two women enter the kitchen and rinse their cups in the sink.
“Wow, it sounds like it didn’t go well at all.” Doug recognized the voice of the missionary wife.
“No. I really liked him, but if the kids don’t, it’s sort of a moot point.” That was the single mom talking. There was a sad sigh. “I guess I was just trying to make something happen.”
“I’m sorry. It must be so hard sometimes.”
“All the time. It’s especially hard to look around the home group and see so many happy couples—so many wonderful husbands. Why couldn’t my ex-husband have been like them? I mean, look at Eric. He adores Lisa. And Doug—I’ve seen him at church with the kids. He’s such a wonderful father. And he even tries to help around the house. I mean, Sherry doesn’t know what she has! If my ex had ever tried to do anything to make my life easier, I would’ve just keeled over from shock.” There was a long sigh, and the sound of the women moving away. “Why can’t I just find someone like Doug or Eric?”
The older woman’s reply was lost as their voices faded into the general ruckus in the other room.
Doug emerged from the pantry, napkins in hand and face flushed. He stood a little taller, shaking off his previous anger and melancholy. At least other people appreciated him.
TWENTY
Ronnie Hanover brushed past the last group of customers heading out of the gift shop, their purchases in plain brown bags. The neon stage lights were extinguished and the overhead lights were coming on as the group straggled toward the main door.
Once all the men had left, she slipped into the gift shop to exchange some of her Monopoly-like “club cash” tips for real bills. She waited for her change, glancing around the small room lined with racks of adult videos, magazines, and paraphernalia. She yawned and turned back to the counter. How funny that all that stuff used to shock her.
The gift shop door chimed as Maris headed in on the same errand. They chatted for a moment, then headed for the bar.
Nick saw them coming and pointedly looked at his watch.
Maris clucked her tongue. “Honey, keep your pants on. We’re doing the best we can.” She counted out her bills and laid the required percentage in front of Nick. Ronnie did the same.
Nick gathered in the money and gestured to a group of staff lounging in the main club area. “The gang is partying at my house tonight. Don’t want them to beat me there. Especially since some of them are half-wasted already.” He tucked the bills into a money belt. “You two coming?”
Maris shook her head. “I’m asleep on my feet.” She gave a jaunty salute as she walked away.
When Ronnie also shook her head, Nick rolled his eyes. “You gotta get out, girl. You work too much.” He closed up the bar and walked toward the front door, jangling his car keys.
The sound of laughter caught Ronnie’s attention, and she glanced across the darkened room to where Marco was holding his weekly staff meeting with the dancers. Several of the girls were counting out their night’s earnings as he talked, separating out the tips for the bouncers and the disk jockey. She noticed that their stacks of money were significantly thicker than the one she had just used to tip Nick. Marco said something amusing, and the group laughed again.
Ronnie sat on one of the deserted bar stools, waiting for Tiffany. This not-having-a-car thing was getting old.
Tiffany was kidding around with one of the bouncers, who suddenly picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Tiffany shrieked, upside down, and pounded his back in mock protest until he set her down.
Ronnie leaned against the bar and set her chin in her hand. The dancers had all the fun and made all the money. What was her problem? Why shouldn’t she be in the elite group? She was a great dancer. She could probably do the job better than most of them.
By the time the meeting broke up, Ronnie just wanted to go to bed. Tiffany approached but walked straight past her, chattering with another dancer about a party.
Annoyed, Ronnie hopped off her bar stool. “Hey, wait up.”
Tiffany turned, surprised. “Oh, hey, Ronnie, I thought you’d left already.”
“How could I, silly? You’re my ride.”
“Oh … yeah.” Tiffany glanced at the dancer beside her. “We’re heading over to Nick’s party. You want to come?”
“No way. I really need to get some sleep.”
“Well … can you get another ride back to the apartment? I really want to go to Nick’s.”
Ronnie sighed. “I think everyone I know well enough to ask for a ride left while I was waiting for you to finish your meeting. Can you drop me off and then go?”
Tiffany hesitated, then looked up. “Look, Ronnie, if I drop you off, it’ll be at least forty-five minutes before I get there, and it’s late already. Most of the others are already there. I don’t want to miss a good party just because you’re too uptight to go.”
Ronnie pressed her lips together. “Is that the way everyone thinks of me?”
“Well … yeah. I mean—I know you’re not, but all you ever do is work. You need to come out with us.”
“I’m not uptight, Tiffany. I’m tired.”
She waited for her friend to speak, but Tiffany just looked at the door.
“I guess I’ll just have to get a cab, then.”
“That’s probably best.” There was a long pause, and then Tiffany looked back up at her friend. “I don’t want to do that to you, but honestly … I’m getting a little tired of being your limousine.”
Ronnie sighed. “I guess I can see that.”
“You really need to get a car, girl. You’ve got to have saved up enough in a month for a down payment.”
“I guess.” There goes my college deposit. “It’s just that I don’t know anything—”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself!” a boisterous voice broke in.
The bouncer who had thrown Tiffany over his shoulder stopped beside the two girls. He was digging at his teeth with a toothpick and smacking his lips. He grinned sideways at her. “From what I can see, you’re not, like, a total idiot. Maybe a half idiot—or a quarter idiot.”
Ronnie rolled her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. “Brian, you jerk, that’s not what I was saying. I was trying to say that I don’t know anything about cars.” She shoved Tiffany sideways, breaking their tension. “And now I have to go out and buy one just because my friend here simply refuses to cart me around like royalty wherever my little heart desires.”
“Well, I’ll help you,” Brian said.
“Yeah, right.” Ronnie tried to shove him, too. It was like trying to move a wall.
“I’m serious.”
“Sure you are.” When he didn’t respond, she looked up at his face. “Are you serious?”
“Sure.” Brian tossed the toothpick into a nearby trash can. “I have all morning and afternoon off tomorrow. Why don’t we drive around and look for a new vehicle for you. I didn’t have anything else planned.”
Ronnie took a deep breath. “You know what, Brian? You’re really sweet. I think I’ll take you up on that.”
Tiffany grabbed his arm. “Since you weren’t going to the party, would you maybe take Ronnie home?”
“Tiffany! I don’t want to inconvenience—”
“Boy, you really are uptight, aren’t you?” Brian clapped a hand against Ronnie’s back, steering her toward the door. “Just accept the help, for Pete’s sake!”
Ronnie allowed herself to be ushered through the front door and toward Brian’s Lexus. She saw Tiffany, laughing, wave good-bye as she climbed into her convertible.
Ronnie rode in silence as Brian made one correct turn after another. After a minute, she spoke up, her voice casual. “I guess you know your way to Tiff—uh, Sasha’s apartment.”
“I helped her move in.”
They approached the security gates, and Brian punched in the access code. Ronnie’s eyebrows rose, but she kept her mouth shut. When Brian pulled up in front of her darkened building, she gave him an awkward smile.
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem. How about I pick you up at ten tomorrow? It’s sort of early, but when you’re comparison-shopping it’s best to get an early start.”
“That’d be great.” Ronnie climbed out of the car. Before she shut the door, she said, “I—well, I want to thank you for driving me home. But, listen, don’t feel like you have to help with the car.”
Brian held up a hand and shook his head at her. “You need to stop selling yourself short, Ronnie. You’re a nice girl. Let me be a friend, okay?”
Ronnie nodded, warmth rising in her cheeks.