Just to See You Smile (3 page)

Britte extended her leg and poked his with her toe. “This is his persnickety side, Gina. Do you know about it yet? Are you sure you want to go through with the wedding?”

She laughed and untangled herself from him. “Yes and yes. Britte, I have something to ask you.” She leaned near and lowered her voice. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

Caught unaware again, Britte choked up and swallowed a bite of pizza with difficulty. There were way too many emotions playing tag with her today. “Really?”

She nodded. “Except for Brady, you're my closest friend.”

Britte set aside her plate, slid from the counter, and hugged her future sister-in-law. “Gina, it would be an honor.”

“Thank you!” She returned the hug. “We're keeping things simple. You're my only attendant. Chloe is going to be Lia's. And Isabel will sing.”

“And the guys will be each other's best man?”

“Of course. Etiquettely speaking, it may not be proper, but we don't mind.” Her entire face glowed. Gina was beautiful, inside and out, a compassionate veterinarian with brilliant green eyes and a Miss America smile.

“Brady.” Britte turned toward her brother. “I don't know how you won this woman's heart, but I'm so glad you did.”

He draped an arm around each of them. “Me, too.”

“Brady.” Joel Kingsley stood behind him. “I'm taking off.”

“Hey, thanks for your help, Joel.” They shook hands. “Thursday night at the Center?”

“Sounds good to me. Gina, it was nice meeting you again.” He shook her hand and then glanced at Britte. “See you Monday, Miss O.”

“Bright and early.”

As he made his way through the kitchen, Britte picked up a slice of pizza, her appetite suddenly restored. Good. She could tell Isabel goodbye without his supervision.

It was as if she didn't want to let her guard down in his presence. There were no warm fuzzies oozing from this principal's office! At the school he was all business, and that attitude produced results. He had made great strides in establishing changes, restoring much-needed order. The kids respected that and found him fair and trustworthy, even approachable. She felt that the 26 percent who didn't approve of him were simply lazy.

Yet, the thing was, she didn't know the color of his eyes. Eye contact with him was fleeting at best. He was always on to the next moment, leaving a trail of accomplished tasks in his wake as well as a distinct impression of…detachment.

One of the teachers had dubbed him “the General.” It fit. School was beginning to feel like a military academy. His intensity surpassed even Britte's, and she found that somewhat disconcerting.

Which was why she had no inclination whatsoever to call him Joel.

On his way home from helping Cal and Brady, Joel stopped by Swensen's Market. It was a day earlier than the norm for his weekly grocery shopping. He greeted a few high school students who worked there and a set of parents in the produce aisle, stocked up on supplies, and then drove home.

His newly constructed, two-bedroom condominium was on the south edge of town, just three blocks from the high school's athletic field. It was a great location, affording him the opportunity to walk to work. Open corn and soybean fields surrounded three sides of the small complex.

In the kitchen he started a pot of coffee, put away his purchases, made a salad for dinner, and poured marinade over a T-bone steak. By then the coffee was ready. He carried a large mugful into the spare bedroom, which he had converted into an office. A wide, L-shaped, cherry-wood desk dominated a corner. Manila folders were neatly stacked on a credenza to the left, a computer sat on the right side of the desk. At the bookcase just inside the door, he flipped on the portable CD player. Soft, contemporary jazz floated from small speakers. On another shelf, books were stacked in the order of to-be-read. He was looking forward to beginning Brady's first novel that evening.

Joel set the mug atop a coaster on the desk and sat, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and scooting the chair on its wheels toward the center of the desk. A sheet of paper lay squarely in the middle of his work space. It displayed a typed, to-do task list. There were reports to write, parents to
call, schedules to consider, problems to ponder, lesson plans to peruse. But first…

He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead on his hands.

“Dear God. Thank You for today, for the ability to meet new people and to help. Thank You for this community. Thank You for the friendship of Cal and Brady. Thank You for Britte and other teachers like her, the ones who take their job seriously and don't need my constant supervision. Give them the strength to fulfill their duties. Help me now in this work You've given me to do. In Jesus' name, amen.”

He fingered the sheet of paper, musing about the orderly developments of the past few months. Cal, a deputy sheriff, had introduced himself the week Joel arrived in town. They talked on numerous occasions. The cop kept a close eye on the kids. Six weeks ago, he had introduced Joel to his friend Brady at the Community Center. They started regularly playing basketball once a week, sometimes racquetball. It was always a good workout.

Even before he heard Brady's last name, he suspected he was related to Britte Olafsson. He learned they weren't twins, though they could have passed for a set. They were both blond with slender but strong athletic builds. Attractive. Tall. Not that she was 6' 4". The eyes weren't identical either. Hers were set close together. That proximity and their piercing blue grabbed your attention, almost as if they audibly announced, “Hey! I'm talking to
you!
Pay attention.” Valuable asset for a teacher. As was her coach's voice, low and clear, at times raspy after practice.

Joel turned his attention to the large-faced clock positioned dead center on the ledge at the back of the desk. Its second hand swept away the moments.

Musing time ceased. He read the first item on his to-do list.

Britte and Isabel exchanged a fierce hug but didn't say goodbye. They stood in the front yard. Britte knew the bonechilling wind would cut things short.

She turned to Tony. “You'd better take excellent care of her or I will hunt you down.”

Tony grabbed her in a hug. “Don't worry. She'll be in good hands.” Then he held her shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “You know that, don't you?”

She nodded.

“We're only 90 minutes away. We'll visit often.”

“Right. That's what they all say. My biggest dilemma is, who's going to keep me supplied with salsa verde?”

Tony and Isabel laughed, holding hands, noses reddening. “Okay.” She gave them both a brave smile and a thumbsup. “I'm out of here.”

“See you, Britte!”

She ran down the street to her Jeep. Not waiting for it to warm up, she drove past the house and waved at the couple still standing outside the front door.

What she was going to horribly miss was their common ground. Isabel led a Bible study for high school girls. Some of them Britte had coached; all had been in at least one of her math classes. Though the group was unaware of it, the two women bathed them in prayer.

There was going to be a hole in the community.

A few blocks from Isabel's, Britte pulled into her own driveway and pressed the automatic garage opener. The yard looked so bare this time of year, except for the junipers hugging the far corner of the house. Above the roof the backyard's massive sycamore was visible, a few giant leaves still clinging to its branches. In front, the two maples' barren limbs rocked slowly in the wind.

Britte liked her house. It was one level, with three bedrooms, the third being only slightly larger than the bathroom, the ideal size for an antique library table and school-related paraphernalia. There was a wonderful old fireplace in the living room, its brick chimney running up the outside beside the front door, which was recessed in a brick arch. The dining room also faced the front. Its diamondpaned windows reflected the corner streetlamp already burning in the dark late afternoon.

She had bought the house three years ago when the owner, Great-Aunt Mabel Olafsson, passed away. Of course the transaction was a good deal because her dad had inherited it along with three other nephews, none of whom wanted to keep it. As of last month, the house had belonged to a Miss Olafsson for 43 years. It carried a legacy as well as a bit of a stigma. Mabel Olafsson had been a beloved Valley Oaks kindergarten teacher for ages. She had also been a “miss” for eight and a half decades.

Britte drove into the attached garage, closed it up, and hurried into the kitchen. She was a few months shy of three decades. Although it disturbed her mother, Britte wasn't overly concerned at the thought of following in Great-Aunt Mabel's “old maid” footsteps. As a teacher, Britte's life overflowed with activity, challenge, and young people. What else was there?

She flipped on lights and pushed up the thermostat on her way to her bedroom. Shedding her warm-up jacket, she pulled on a thick sweatshirt and then returned to stand in the living room in front of a heat register, looking out at the darkening backyard, waiting for the warmth to reach her bones.

“I know You love me, Lord.”

Her parents had taught her everything about Jesus, but it was Great-Aunt Mabel who embodied His boundless, passionate love for students.

Britte shivered and crossed her arms. A feeling of uncertainty hovered. Not a common occurrence.
Time to check the emotional barometer, girl!

Life was satisfying. Teaching and coaching consumed her in the way that whitewater rafting in the Rockies left her breathless and exhilarated. When she wasn't engaged at school, she was, generally speaking, a loner and she liked that. Tonight she would watch a favorite video, eat popcorn, and snuggle up with Brady's latest five chapters he had asked her to critique.

Snuggle up with a stack of printer paper?

She shivered again.

This feeling must be from telling Isabel goodbye…from hanging out with only couples…well, not counting General Kingsley, but then he didn't count any which way…from the thought of turning 30… Loner was distinctly different from lonesome.

“Jesus, I know You're with me. I know I am the love of Your life. Sit with me tonight?”

The furnace heat rolled up from the register now, surrounding her with a comforting warmth. She replayed the day's events.

Breakfast with Mom and Dad and younger brother Ryan at the farm—it was a tradition to haul Christmas things down from the attic the day after Thanksgiving. Shoot-around with the team—the girls looked good, their attitude was topnotch, their free throws out of sight. Brady and Gina's announcement—Brady loved that woman so much. She would complete him, fill in the empty patches of his life. Helping at Isabel's—knowing her had enriched Britte's life. Perhaps Lia or Gina would fill in at the girls' Bible study. God, of course, wouldn't drop the ball in the teens' lives. And, above all, Jesus beside her every moment of the day—

Britte grinned and laughed softly.

“If I'm all that lonesome, I can always drink a
jug
of tap water.”

The hotel room's door handle rattled.

Anne Sutton uncurled herself from the plush armchair and, with her nose still buried in a paperback book, walked across the room. She pulled open the door. “Hey, mister.”

“You'd yell at the kids if they did that.”

“Did what?” Turning the page, she moseyed back to the chair.

“Opened the door without asking who's there.”

“Oh, Alec,” she objected with a little smile, eyeing him over the top of her reading glasses. “You're the only one who would be standing out there in the hallway fiddling with the card key.”

“Most ridiculous thing ever invented.” He tossed it onto the desktop and unfastened his watch. “Why are you still awake?” Not waiting for a reply, he headed toward the bathroom, peeling off his long-sleeved, sage green polo shirt.

Anne returned to her reading, eager to finish the chapter. It was a thrilling courtroom scene. Who was the bad guy?
Oh no!
Cliff-hanging last sentence. She peeked at the next chapter and then smacked the book shut.
Save it!
She set it aside with her glasses and scurried to the bathroom, where her husband stood at the sink, splashing water on his face.

She slipped her arms around his middle. For a 39-yearold, he had a nice waist. She spoke to the back of his head, at the naturally wavy nut brown hair. He needed a haircut. “I'm awake because it's our annual one night in a hotel without the kids. I want to savor the awareness that I do not
have to listen for them in the night, that I do not have to hear cartoons at the crack of dawn, that I do not have to juggle carpools tomorrow.”

Alec wiped his face with a towel. “You need to get out more, sweetheart.”

With a sigh, she straightened and leaned against the doorjamb, watching him brush his teeth. He'd change his tune when he saw what she wore beneath the hotel's complimentary white terry cloth robe. Her new nightgown was red silk. Well, not silk. It was polyester, but just as soft as silk. He liked her in red; he liked the contrast with her black hair. She pulled the scrunchie from her hair, loosened the ponytail, and snuggled against him again, this time shoulder to shoulder.

He edged away.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

“It's late,” he mumbled through foaming toothpaste.

“It's only,” she glanced over her shoulder at the bedside clock's red digital numbers, “twelve-seventeen?! Twelve—! What have you guys been
doing?
We finished dinner hours ago. I thought the meeting doesn't start until tomorrow.”

He lowered his face and rinsed the toothbrush. “It doesn't. I've been talking with Kevin.”

“Until midnight?”

He swept past her.

She turned. “Okay, help me out here. What is wrong with this picture? On the one hand, we have Kevin,” she held out a hand, palm up, “the podiatrist, whom I love dearly as the husband of my best friend. A guy who seldom strings more than two sentences together in a social setting.”

At the closet door, Alec pried off his loafers.

“Talking for two solid hours— Where? In the
lobby?
On the other hand, we have this.” She untied her robe and held it open. “A fetching wife in a fetching new, ruby red silk—
extremely silk-like anyway—nightgown. The French would call it a
negligé.
”

His back to her, he stood at the closet, attaching his slacks to a clothes hanger.

“Alec!”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Fetching.”

“I thought so, too. Okay, Alexander,” she teased, “what gives here? Normally you would not have let me read
this
late. Normally you would be kissing me by now.
Passionately
, I might add.”

He slowly shut the closet door and rested his forehead against it.

Struck with the realization that nothing about his actions was normal, she swallowed her bantering tone. “What's wrong?”

He blew out a loud breath and turned, leaning against the door, holding out an arm. “Come here, fetching wife of mine.” She stepped into his embrace, and he buried his face in her hair. “I'm sorry. I don't know how to tell you.”

And then she knew. “It's Kevin.”

He straightened, placed his hands around her face, and whispered, “He's leaving Val.”

The world stood still for just a heartbeat, and then it spun again, but Anne knew it was off-kilter, knew that from this moment on it would always be so.

“No!” she wailed. “No! They said—”

Alec pressed her head against his chest. “Oh, Annie. I'm sorry. Shh.”

“They can't!” She pushed herself from him, crossed the small room, and sank onto the turned-down bed.

“Sweetheart, it's not as if it's a surprise.”

“They're seeing a counselor!” Suddenly chilled to the bone, she wrapped the robe tightly around her.

“The counselor agreed that a trial separation could—”

“How can a
Christian
counselor tell them to
separate
?” Her voice rose, and the tears started flowing. “
They're
Christians! This isn't supposed to happen!”

“Annie.” He sat beside her, enfolding her in his arms again. “You know it happens to Christians.”

“Does Val know?”

“Yes.”

The sobs erupted. “Then why didn't she tell me? I should be with her. Why now? Why this weekend? We're in Chicago! On a church council retreat—”

“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “Kevin said they… They had a discussion late last night. It was their first calm one. And they reached this decision. He's…”

She felt Alec's intake of breath.

“He's moving out on Sunday. Val didn't want to ruin your weekend. Instead,” his tone grew sarcastic, “she let me do it.”

“Alec, that's not fair.”

He sighed and tightened his arms around her. “No, it's not fair. I don't know what to do with this gut-wrenching emotion. And I hated passing it on to you.”

They held each other, absorbing the pain they felt for their friends. Friends who, like them, were 30-something and had three children. Who, like them, lived in Valley Oaks, attended Community Church, car pooled, and volunteered whenever necessary for anything related to the elementary, middle, and high schools. Three kids, three schools.

Finally, Anne whispered, “I can't imagine their hurt. What can they be doing right this very minute? They don't have anyone to hug them.” She burst into fresh sobs, envisioning Val and Kevin hugging opposite sides of a king-sized bed.

Alec tightened his hold around her until her tears slowed.

She fumbled with a tissue from the robe pocket. “What else did he say? How is she?”

“Well, apparently she's all for this. You know Val. She's strong, stronger in her faith than he is. She'll get through it.”

“I thought they were making progress.”

“Kevin says no way. It's time they stepped back and got a new perspective. They thought it'd be best to do it before Christmas.” He took a breath. “
Kevin
wants it before Christmas. He'll step down from the church council. We've got to tell Peter. I don't know what he's going to do, but since he's the pastor, I guess that's his job. He can figure out what effect it will have on our planning session tomorrow.”

“Oh, Alec, the kids!” She plopped her head down on the pillow and pulled her knees up to her chest. They brushed against Alec as she rolled over toward the center of the bed. Her stomach ached. “Theirs and ours! It's like a ripple effect. From their kids to our kids, from them to us, from the council members to their wives to the whole church.”

He crawled over her, pulled the covers up over both of them, and laid down facing her. “Annie, don't internalize this.”

She looked at her husband's face just inches from hers. His easy smile was missing, making his jaw appear a rigid square. He needed a shave. The crow's feet were pronounced around his cinnamon eyes. “How can I
not
internalize this?”

He encompassed her hands in his. “I don't know. But you can't fix it.”

She caught her breath, struck with a new image. “What'll we do at the basketball games? We've always sat together— Oh! What'll we do for Christmas? Our families' traditions—”

“Anne! Just take it one day at a time. Okay? Now, it's late. We've got to get some sleep.”

“I can't sleep!”

“Well, I have to. I have to be coherent tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead and rolled over. “All you have to do is shop.”

She ignored his snide comment. After 17 years of marriage, she knew this was how he grappled with uncomfortable emotions.

He rolled back over. “I didn't mean that like it sounded. I love you, sweetheart.” He pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. “Please try to sleep?” He rolled back again facing the windows.

Within moments his breathing eased into sleep mode. Tears still burned in her eyes, and a wave of loneliness washed over her. She reached up to turn off the lamp.

Dear Father, comfort Val tonight… And Kevin. Hold both of them close.

Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.

Early morning sunlight streamed into the hotel room. Alec sat quietly on the edge of the bed and watched his wife sleep. Her thick black hair was mussed, spread out over the pillow, as if she had tossed and turned. The tiny scar was more noticeable when she was motionless like this. It was a subtle fold in the right corner of her upper lip, the result of a dog bite when she was six years old. It wasn't discolored. It simply made the smile of her wide mouth a little…quirky.

Should he wake her or not? She probably hadn't slept much. He mulled over the consequences. They wouldn't be alone again until late that night when they arrived home. He reminded himself that they were each other's best friend. Sleep was secondary to the comfort she would need when she first awoke.

He pushed strands of hair from her face. Her eyes would be dark today. Lack of sleep and this trauma would widen the black that rimmed the smoky gray, leaving only a trace of the lighter color showing. Annie didn't wear her heart on her sleeve, but it was right there in her eyes for anyone who dared to look close enough.

He noticed red silk poking out from under the covers and felt a twinge of disappointment, but he couldn't help smiling. How she could feel romantic was beyond his comprehension! Most of this 24-hour trip was spent with seven other couples. They were there for a mini-retreat, not an intimate getaway. As far as he was concerned, they could have doubled up on the rooms, put the women in a couple, the men in others, saved some money.

After arriving late Friday afternoon and checking into the hotel, the entire group had met for dinner. Today the wives would shop. The men—all members of the church council— would meet with Pastor Peter for an extended time of prayer and Bible study, followed by lunch and a business session. Relating with his wife wasn't on the schedule of events.

Not so with Anne, but that was just her way, grabbing the moment and wringing everything she could from it. In their short time away, she would catch up in detail on the lives of seven women, luxuriate in the hotel's bathtub, read an entire novel, finish the year's Christmas shopping, and wear red silk to please her husband.

He tapped the tip of her turned-up nose. “Hey, sweetheart. You want to wake up?”

“Hmm?” She peered at him and smiled. “Hey, mister.”

He gave her a gentle smile, waiting for the memory of last night's news to register.

It didn't take long. A tear slid out before her eyes were fully open. Her lower lip trembled. “Oh, Alec.”

“Why don't you call Val? Have her come over for a room service breakfast before you all go shopping. Our treat. You two can emote for a couple of hours before heading out.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced at the bedside clock. “It's 6:20. We're meeting for breakfast at 6:30. I'd better go now, try to corner Peter, clue him in on the situation.” He kissed her. “I'm sorry I have to leave you like this.”

“I know.”

“Hug Val for me.”

She grabbed his arm. “Alec, you wouldn't leave me, would you?”

“Of course not. Anne, you're internalizing. This is them, not us.”

“But why them and not us?”

“Because…” He stared at her a moment. “There's no simple answer.”

“But I think we need an answer.”

He stood up. “Because you're a fantastic cook and look great in red.”

She blinked. There was no gray showing in her dark eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart, it's good enough for me.” He smiled and went to the door. “I'm easy.”

“That's all you want from me?”

“Annie, I love you. If you love me, that's all I need. I gotta go. See you at four.”

Waiting in the hall for the elevator to reach the nineteenth floor, Alec gazed through a window at the Chicago skyline and pondered Anne's last question.
Was
that all he wanted from her?