Superior Storm (Lake Superior Mysteries) (17 page)

“There aren't many private places on a boat that size.”

“Exactly. And it wouldn't surprise me if the couples drew you into the conversation. I'd say, if you are drawn in, try to ask questions more than give answers. Mostly, if they are going to work things out, they need to be thinking things through for themselves. Questions help them to do that more than answers most of the time.”

“That actually makes some sense,” said Leyla, smiling and slurping some more gumbo.

“Don't sound so surprised.”

“It's that whole macho-sensitive thing,” she said. “Sometimes I get so caught up in the hunter-fisher-martial arts side of you that I forget the sensitive side.”

“You forgot intelligent, good-looking, and above all, modest.” For some reason
,
she kicked me under the table.

After that, things began to come together pretty well. I appointed myself maritime chef, of course, and happily stocked up on avocados.

I had one more land-based session with each couple before we went.

Phil and Angela Kruger seemed a little tense with each other again. After they were seated in my office, Phil looked directly at me.

“Is this really necessary
,
P
astor? I mean
,
we're going out on the boat in a week.”

“Normally
,
I recommend counseling at least once a week, if not more,” I said. “Plus, the sailing-counseling tour is not magic. I think it will help you guys, but you can't sit back and wait for some bolt of lightning from the sky. You need to be at work on your relationship
now
.”

“Yeah
,
O
kay
, fine,” grumbled Phil.

“Philip,” said Angela, “this is an opportunity. Let's make the most of it. There are some things I want to talk about right now.”

Phil look at her like she'd stabbed him in the back. He looked at me.

“Go on, Angela,” I said. “If you have something to say to him, go ahead.”

I figured she was feeling ready to confess the affair. Frankly, I wasn't sure if it was a great idea, considering her husband's current mood.

“I don't like how you patronize me, Philip,” said Angela. I quietly let out a little air.

“What're you talking about
,
Babe?” he said. “I try to treat you like a queen, Angie, you know I do.”

“I've asked you to call me Angela,” she said. “And maybe I don't want to be a queen.”

“Ten years
,
I been calling you Angie, all of sudden, this year it's got to be Angela? Plus
,
now Phil isn't good enough for you, and you gotta call me Philip, like my second grade teacher or something.”

“Philip is your given name. Angela is mine. They are nice names. Nicknames an
d diminutives are demeaning
and are often used by authoritarian figures for the purpose of dominating others.”

I said a silent thank-you to the Lord that it was difficult to turn Jonah into a nickname, and so I was protected from being demeaned
and dominated
. I think
God
might have laughed. He seems to have a better sense of humor than most of the people I know.

“I don't even know what that means,” said Phil
, sounding a little plaintive
.
“
We used to be happy. We didn't worry about garbage like what we called each other, and who was dominating who.”

“Whom,” said Angela, and I
felt I
had to agree with her grammar.

“I think it’s these crap feminist classes you’re taking at UMD. They’re putting ideas in
to
your head.”

Angela shot him a deadly look. “They have only confirmed what I already knew intuitively to be true,” said Angela. She looked at me, and it sounded like she was trying to convince me, more than Phil.

“I’m sorry Angela,” said Phil respectfully. “I didn’t mean that.”

She glared at him for a minute and he looked down.

“Anyway,” she
said at last
, “you know I won't be taking classes anymore for a while.”
She
sounded sulky.

“Hey
,
B
abe,” said Phil, putting his hand on hers. “I'm sorry you gotta quit. I know you liked all that crap. May
be you can do it again someday.”

“You're quitting your studies?
” I asked Angela. On the whole
,
it seemed to me that her studies were not helping her come to grips with her
issues
, and she had to get the philandering professor out of her life, but I also knew that she derived a great deal of satisfaction from her feminist courses a
t
the University of
Minnesota
Duluth.

“Yes,” she said, looking away. “It's kind of a money-thing.”

Phil gave a little smirk. I wondered if he had been less than honest with her about their finances, in order to get her to stop.

Phil got his face under control again. “Look
,
Angela,” he said, “I know things are kind of tense with us right now. Just hang in there
,
OK
?
You know it will get better soon.”

She smiled weakly and took his hand. “I know
,
Phil
ip
. It will be
better
soon, won't it?”

“Before you know it, Babe,” he said.

“All right
,
listen,” I said.
“
When
you
go home tonight, I want you
to
talk more about Angela's studies. But I want you practice telling each other only how you feel.
Instead of blaming the other person, or accusing them, just tell them about your feelings. Instead of saying, ‘you demean me when you call me Angie,’ try something like, ‘I feel very hurt and small when you don’t call me Angela, like I’ve asked.’ Get the picture?”

After some more conversation, they were on their way. They remained committed to the cruise, and I thought maybe we were getting somewhere.

My purpose for meeting with the Stones was to talk them out of coming on the cruise. After we were all seated in my office, I told them so.

“But why?” said Jasmine. “I think it could help us so much.”

“We have problems,
P
astor,” said Tony Stone. “I think this cruise will help us. We don't know anyone up here. We don't have the support of a community, and you can give us that with this cruise.”

They sounded like little kids asking for extra cookies. “Look,” I said, “the truth is I still don't understand your marriage. You are like no other married couple I've counseled. I don't understand your problems. I don't even understand your
relationship
. I think I will be wasting your time and money.”

Stone, normally so expressionless
,
had a queer look on his face, part heartsick, part something that almost looked like admiration. He began to stand up.

“Sit down honey,” said Jasmine. “We need to tell him.”

“
Tell
him?” Stone sounded shocked. “Jaz...”

“Yes.” She turned to me quickly. “Our problems are all about sex.”

Stone was staring at her. He slumped heavily back into his seat. She patted his ch
eek. “Oh, quit pretending
,
H
oney. O
bviously
,
Pastor
Borden could see we were not being honest with him.” She turned back to me. “It's just that we're kind of embarrassed, and we didn't know how to bring it up.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, where I felt a slight headache beginning. “Well, OK, what seems to be the issue?”

“Can't we talk about this on the boat?” asked Stone. His voice was a little hoarse, and he cleared his throat.

“The boat isn't magic,” I said. “I think it can be helpful, but I don't know why you think that will solve all your problems
,
if you can't begin to face them here and now.”

Stone looked like he wanted to swear.

“OK,” said Jasmine, with a defiant glance at her husband. “I'll start. How come
men seem to
think that having sex will fix everything?” Tony was staring at her again, his mouth gaping slightly.

“Because it will,” I said. Now they were both staring at me.

“I beg your pardon?” said Jasmine after a minute.

“Tony thinks sex will fix everything, because for him, it
probably
will. It does for many men, though not all.
”

Stone began to grin. Jasmine seemed off balance for the first time since I'd met her.

“Look,” I said, “
I’m
a
Christian counselor. What I believe is that God made sex, and it was good. He made it specifically for marriage. Outside of marriage it is destructive. But in marriage it can be incredibly positive and helpful. In some ways, it’s almost like magic.”

The
y
both chuckled, a little uncomfortably, I thought.

“This doesn’t apply to all men,” I said, “but it probably does to at least a majority. For those men, it is almost impossible to overemphasize the importance of physical intimacy. That kind of intimacy alone will resolve many conflicts – for the men, anyway – and
it goes
a very long way toward making them feel happy and content in their marriage. It’s almost like magic.
My suggestion to
many
wives is, you've been given your magical powers for a reason. Use them.”

“But it doesn't work that way for most women I know,” said Jasmine.

“That's very true,” I said. “It's unfair, but men have
not
been given a magic potion that will make everything better for their wives. Physical intimacy doesn't do that for most women. So
,
Tony, you're still on the hook. It takes hard work and sensitivity.”

“That’s kind of strange,” said Jasmine. “What’s so helpful for men is sometimes hard for their wives, and vice versa.”

“True,” I said. “We often think marriage is about our spouse making us happy. But I suspect that in part, God created marriage as
a
means to
force
us to mature as human beings.
”

Both of them had perked up immensely at this discussion, and they peppered me with questions,
and when we were done forty-five minutes later, I had changed my mind, and agreed that they should come on the sailing cruise.

Bayfield
,
Wisconsin
,
reminded me of all the quaint New England
f
ishing villages I've never been to. It could have been the set for Amity, the town in the old movie,
Jaws
. The main street drops straight and smooth toward the lake and the town marina. On that early October day, the impossibly beautiful water sparkled to its endless horizon in the sunlight, framed between old brick buildings housing mom-and-pop stores, as well as touristy craft shops, a sprinkling of boutiques and
a
few hometown cafes. There were only a few masts still bobbing in the harbor, but they were enough to complete the picture.

“I love Bayfield,” said Leyla, sighing. She had her legs tucked under her in the front seat next to me, both hands wrapped around a cup of convenience-store coffee. I shifted down as we dropped toward the harbor.

“There are some good trout streams nearby,” I allowed. For some reason she hit me.

“Hey,” I said,
“I was agreeing with you.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“It's an adequate town,” I amended, feeling generous.

“It's a good thing I have such manly shoulders,” I said a moment later, “or all this unwarranted violence might injure me.”

Truthfully, however, it
was
a gorgeous little town, and we were arriving
early
morning on a day that was singularly spectacular for October in the North
C
ountry.

“What a day!” I said when we got out of the car at the harbor and stretched. “It's got to be at least seventy degrees.” Peak color season had passed, but there were still wide swaths of gold and red forest along the shoreline, all the more brilliant in their contrast with the blue water.

“It's adequate,” said Leyla.

“I suffer because of my upbringing,” I said. “I was taught never to hit girls.”