Authors: Donna Fletcher Crow
Laura was right about the walk being only three blocks, but they were three very long blocks, largely uphill, so in spite of the pleasure of walking in crunchy leaves, she was glad when they turned the corner and faced the gray and beige stone cathedral. Laura stood for a moment, looking up in awe at the massive square towers. “It looks as if it could have stood in Europe since medieval times, doesn’t it?” Then the bells in the tower began chiming right over her head, ending all dialogue.
Kyle and Glenda were waiting for them in front of the Gothic-arched door. This was the first time Laura had seen her new friends together, and she was struck with what a charming couple they made. Glenda’s freckled freshness and Kyle’s dark intensity were the perfect foil for each other. She thought of her own Gwendolyn and Kevin. Gwen’s auburn pageboy was longer than Glenda’s, while Kevin’s dark hair was just like Kyle’s, but his cool gray eyes were nothing like Kyle’s snapping black ones.
Laura introduced Tom. She thought there was a certain wariness in the handshake he offered Dr. Larsen. She hoped her anxiety for the men to become friends wouldn’t cause tension between them.
“I’m glad you’re a few minutes early so we can show you around a bit. This is a very special place.” Glenda led the way into the cool, high-vaulted nave with its pointed arches reaching heavenward like hands folded in prayer, then stopped at the baptistery and pointed to the stainedglass windows depicting children of all nations approaching Jesus. “See the white dove in the center window? The panes weren’t in yet when the first baby was baptized here. Just as the service began, a white dove flew in, circled around, then perched on the ledge until the service was over.”
“Oh, my goodness, that sounds like foreshadowing,” Laura said. “I wonder if that child grew up to be a preacher or teacher or something special.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Wish I knew.” Glenda ushered them down the side aisle. “Look across at the windows: Those are the 12 apostles, but the lower part of each window shows an activity of modern life and work. I like the idea that that’s holy too. But here, this is what I wanted you to see.” She stopped beneath one of the great stone pillars supporting the arched ceiling and looked upward. “This is the robin pillar. An intrepid little robin built her nest up there, and construction at that point had to be stopped until her family was fledged, so they put a stone model of her and her nest atop the pillar to mark the spot.”
“What a rich heritage to worship in.” But Laura’s comment was lost as all 3,000 of the organ’s pipes signaled the beginning of the service. Only her thoughts continued. This was the first time for her and Tom to worship together in ages. Tom was always so busy. He had dropped his Scout troop long ago, and it seemed they lost touch with their church friends who were now wrapped up in raising young families.
Could this service help bring them together? Kyle had talked so much about the spiritual aspects of intimacy, about marriages dying spiritually. Could they find their way back to each other here in these beautiful surroundings?
They took seats near the front in the dark wooden pews. “The choir screen is from Westminster Abbey, and the bishop’s chair still has scars from the London Blitz, and the pulpit is carved from a 500-year-old oak tree from England,” Glenda whispered just before the white-robed dean and assistant priests entered down the center aisle. Laura’s attention shifted to hymnal and prayer book.
Glenda noticed Laura’s fumblings with the prayer book and handed her one open to the correct page just in time to read the collect with the congregation, “Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid; cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy holy name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
Laura hoped her lack of familiarity with the liturgy wasn’t too apparent to those around her, but her heart thrilled with the service. She had always wanted to worship in one of the great cathedrals of the world. She loved the feeling of tradition and continuity—the sense of connectedness, knowing that Christians around the world had been worshiping with these prayers and forms for hundreds of years. She looked sideways at Tom. Were his thoughts perhaps akin to hers? Was he, too, realizing how much they had missed in leaving worship out of their lives? His immobile features gave no clue.
The dean ascended the stairs of the pulpit carved from that 500-year-old oak, and in spite of all the ancient traditions, the message was absolutely new and fresh to Laura’s ears. “Be generous to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another as God in Christ forgave you …” The very scripture Kyle used in telling her she needed to forgive her mother. At first a warm glow over the phone call filled Laura’s heart. She had done the right thing. It hadn’t been easy, but she had persevered against the difficulty and she’d done it. She had forgiven her mother.
Then the glow was replaced with a stab as she looked at Tom sitting in stiff profile beside her. Well, yes, she had forgiven her mother. And that was all Kyle had said she had to do. But her conscience wasn’t so easily put off. What about Tom? What about her husband and that—that other woman? Had she forgiven him? Could she forgive him?
Good grief!
She suddenly felt defensive.
What is this
?
I’m getting it from every direction. Can’t I have a break? What about Tom? Why can’t he do something for this relationship? After all, I’m the wronged one here.
“… We will never be commanded to do what we will not be enabled to do. But you must first
want
to forgive …” Her answer came from the pulpit as clearly as if the priest were reading her thoughts. And he used almost the same words Kyle had used, “… and once you have forgiven, you must be willing to trust the person who wronged you …”
Trust him? Wait a minute. I believe Tom when he says nothing really happened. But how can I keep from thinking, “What about next time?”
“… Now, being willing to trust and trusting aren’t the same thing. A little common sense can be useful here. I would like to suggest two guidelines you can apply. First, ask yourself, have you known this person to be honest in other areas? In business, in social obligations, can their word be trusted?”
Oh, yes. Tom’s absolute reliability is one of the things I’ve always loved most about him. If he says he’ll be there, he will be—and not even late.
“… And then, ask yourself, has this person repented? If they have asked God’s forgiveness and your forgiveness, then you must forgive and forget as freely as God has promised to do …”
Well, he apologized for hurting me—I don’t think that’s quite the same thing. Of course, if all he really ever did was hug her, I don’t suppose that would require too much of the sackcloth and ashes thing. The trouble is, I don’t really know what Tom feels about anything anymore. I didn’t realize we had grown so far apart.
“… and remember, if you forgive others the wrongs they have done, you will be forgiven; but if you do not forgive others, then the wrongs you have done will not be forgiven.”
All through the offertory hymn and the continued congregational readings and responses, and then, even while kneeling at the Communion rail beside Tom, Laura kept thinking,
Forgive. Forgive and trust. Forgive and trust and forget. I can say it. But can I do it?
All stood for the final prayer: “Almighty God, whose kingdom is everlasting and power infinite, have mercy upon us all, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with Thee and the Holy Ghost liveth and reigneth, ever one God, world without end. Amen.”
Laura walked stiffly down the aisle. Now the stones around her seemed so cold and forbidding. She had come with such high hopes: for her and Tom to find a special bonding through worshiping together, for Tom and Kyle to begin a friendship, for her to find the ability to forgive. Well, that hadn’t been one of her goals, but it was amazing how on-point the sermon was.
And perhaps she had moved closer to forgiving Tom. But she had felt no intimacy in their shared worship. They had knelt together, prayed together, even taken Communion side by side, but there must be something more.
The autumn brightness made her blink as they emerged onto the church steps. “Kyle and I are going to the Captain’s Palace for dinner—come with us,” Glenda invited.
Laura was delighted. There had been no opportunity during the service for Tom and Kyle to become really acquainted. Glenda’s invitation was perfect. Now the men could get to know each other, Tom could get comfortable talking to Kyle. After all, there was nothing like food to bring people together.
And nothing could have made a more perfect setting for their Sunday meal than the historic Victorian mansion on the point overlooking the blue and silver harbor. The long white
Princess Margurite
liner with her distinctive union jack smokestacks stood serenely at anchor while on around the bay the Empress reigned over her domain.
“The Captain’s Palace claims to be the smallest hotel in the world,” Kyle said as Laura turned her attention from the window and looked up at the twinkling crystal chandeliers hanging from a frescoed ceiling.
“How small?”
“They rent one room.”
Laura laughed, but Tom didn’t react.
“But don’t worry,” Glenda said. “Their quiche lorraine is terrific.”
“The fresh Sooke oysters are my favorite,” Kyle said.
“I think I’ll stick with chicken.” Tom snapped his menu shut. Laura was sure—almost—that he didn’t mean his comment to sound so dismissive. Perhaps if they left the men alone … “Would you show me the way to the ladies’ room, Glenda?”
Glenda jumped up and led the way.
Laura grabbed her arm as soon as the door closed.
“Well, tell me. Did you make an appointment with Kyle?”
“No. Yes. Well, in a way. I guess my acting skills aren’t as good as I thought. He saw through it.”
“Oh, too bad. You should have had a friend call for you.”
“Yeah, probably. But I don’t know—just the fact that I was desperate enough to try the ruse seems to have gotten his attention. He promised we’d have a serious talk.”
“Great. When?”
Glenda shrugged, smiling weakly. “Soon.”
“Mmm, well, hold him to it.”
They returned to the table to find the men sitting in silence.
“Tom, why don’t you tell Kyle about your work. I tried to explain it to him, but the machinations of higher economics are beyond me.” She hoped she sounded bright and encouraging rather than desperate and pushing.
“My company develops low-rate investment instruments to put investors and real estate developers together. Inflation protection is my specialty.”
“That sounds interesting. What kind of property do you do?”
“Residential.”
Silence followed Tom’s abrupt reply. “Captain Pendray, whose home this was, came here seeking gold,” Glenda jumped into the breach. “But he found his fortune in making soap for the other prospectors. He put in some special antiseptics that helped control lice.”
Laura shuddered, then forced a little laugh. She noticed a guest observing them with a smile from a nearby table.
I suppose we do make a good-looking party. Attractive couples, apparently well-suited to each other—none of our troubles showing. If only we were both living the serene lives we portray.
Then she took a really close look at Kyle. He looked truly haggard behind his surface smile and stylish glasses. Just knowing Glenda’s desire to be able to soothe and share his troubles made her want to reach out to them both.
And Tom. She turned sideways to study the clean, handsome lines of the face she loved. The bright sun coming in the bay window mercilessly revealed tiny tension lines around his eyes and mouth. Were these all the result of their marital problems? Or was there something else? Something she didn’t know?
And how could she deal with what she didn’t know? Her one hope of getting Tom to open up was her now obviously failed attempt to get him to talk to Kyle. Another failure to chalk up.
But maybe the day hadn’t been a total loss. She had hoped to see a change in Tom; instead she had discovered a change in herself. Well, at least she had encountered a new question. Maybe even considering the need to forgive Tom was progress. And she could hope that changing herself would change Tom. She had to have something to cling to.
They spent the evening reading. In the same room, but miles apart. Laura’s eyes were on her book, but her mind was elsewhere.
It wasn’t like this at first. We used to spend hours curled together on one end of the sofa. Even when we sat in separate chairs with our own books there was still a connectedness, an emotional closeness, as if we were inside the same bubble.
Tom rattled the
Wall Street Journal
as he turned a page. Laura looked up and the date on the paper caught her eye. “Oh, Tom, your mother’s birthday is next week. Why don’t you take that plate you bought for her back to the gift shop and ask them to mail it so she’ll get it on the right day?”
Tom glanced at Laura over the top of his newspaper but didn’t reply.
She tried again. “Sorry, were you lost in your reading? I said—”
“I heard you. I didn’t buy any plate for my mother.”
“Yes you did. I was there. A delicate country springtime scene with a gold edging—”
“I remember the plate. It’s not for my mother.” He folded his paper with deliberation and placed it on the coffee table.
“But you said—”
“No,
you
said. And I chose not to argue with you.”
A sudden fear made Laura’s throat constrict. “Tom, who did you buy that plate for?”
“Now don’t get upset, Laura. You didn’t object to my buying a piece of scrimshaw for Phil. So why should you object about—”
She knew. “About your buying the plate for Marla?” Her tones dropped an ice cube with each word.
“Look, it’s business. I’ve tried and tried to tell you that.”
“Business. Right. Except Phil is your partner and Marla is one of maybe 20 real estate agents you deal with. I’d ask what makes her special—only I don’t want to be told. It isn’t that I don’t know the answer. I just don’t want to hear it.”