The Promise (24 page)

 45 

T
he next day, Jean drove her SUV down the little tree-lined service lane that ran behind Jim and Marilyn's big house on Elderberry Lane, then pulled into the driveway. It had been over a month since they had visited as a family.

She looked in the backseat. Carly was already zonked out. Little Tommy smiled at her, but he was blinking pretty slow. She had initially asked to have the ladies meet at her house, where she could put the kids down for a nap, and now wished they had listened to her. But Jim had some reason for wanting to meet Tom at their home in Lake Mary.

Marilyn had pointed out that they had converted one of the guest bedrooms upstairs to a kids' room to accommodate Tommy and Carly whenever they visited, which was true. In some ways, that room was nicer than the kids' rooms in their own house. Jean loved coming here anyway; it was such a beautiful house in every respect. Like walking through the pages of
Southern Living
magazine.

As she lifted Carly out of her car seat, Michele's car pulled up beside her. Seeing her dilemma, Michele quickly got out.

“Here, Jean, let me help you.” She ran around the other side of the car.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Aunt Michele,” Tommy said, “when did you get here?”

“Just now, Tommy. Can I help you get out of your car seat?” He nodded and lifted his hands. She unbuckled him and pulled him out.

Jean started walking through the garage, carrying Carly. In the car, she had opened her eyes for just a moment; now she was out again.

“Would you like me to get this diaper bag?” Michele asked.

Jean stopped in her tracks. “Oh yes, please. I totally forgot about it.” Why was she so nervous? She knew Marilyn and Michele were just here to help her. And she so wanted the help. She'd been waiting for years to get closer to them. Now that the day had finally arrived, she was all keyed up inside.

She made her way through the garage, then out the door leading to the main house. She heard the overhead garage door close. There was Marilyn, standing by the French doors in the great room, waving and smiling. As Jean and Carly neared, Marilyn opened the door to let them through.

“Oh look, the precious thing,” Marilyn said quietly, her face instantly the grandma. “I want to eat her up, she looks so good.”

Jean walked past her, not wanting to give her up to Grandma just yet, not until her nap was through. “I'm just going to take her right upstairs, if that's okay.”

“I know it has to be,” Marilyn said. “But I haven't seen her in over two weeks. It will be so hard.” A few moments later, in walked Michele carrying Tommy. “Oh, look.”

Michele had been stroking his cheek, and he looked drowsy enough to fall asleep. “I'm just going to follow Jean upstairs,” she whispered.

“Make sure you set the gate across the top of the stairway nice and tight,” Marilyn said.

“I will.”

After the kids were all safely tucked away, Jean and Michele tiptoed down the stairway. Marilyn had things all set up in the living room. The coffeepot and three matching mugs lay on a tray on the coffee table, next to a small platter of blueberry scones. Pleasant instrumental worship music played softly in the background. Jean paused at the foot of the stairs to take in the scene.

How many times over the last several years had she wished for a visit like this with Marilyn and Michele? Although not under circumstances like these. Hopefully, this might be the start—as Uncle Henry promised—of a new beginning for their family, and this scene might be repeated again and again in a far more relaxed atmosphere.

“Have a seat, ladies,” Marilyn said.

“Where?” Jean asked.

“Anywhere is fine. Don't worry about getting crumbs on the rug or the furniture. After Jim and I got back together after Michele's wedding, and Jim promised I wouldn't have to host any more hoity-toity parties, I told him this living room was no longer going to be treated like a museum. It is now officially—like all the other rooms in the house—a place we can enjoy.”

After fixing her coffee and snagging a scone, Jean sat in a plush chair across from Marilyn. “I love these,” she said then took a bite. A piece broke off, bounced on her lap, and fell to the floor. “Oh no.”

“My vacuum cleaner does an amazing job,” Marilyn said. “So don't worry about that. Why don't you both eat while I give you an update about what's happened? And what's supposed to be happening right now with Tom and Jim.”

“Okay, but first I need to say something.” Jean set her coffee down. “I'm so sorry you and Jim had to come home to this nightmare. You didn't even get a chance to unpack before you got slammed with this thing. It was horrible timing. I hope we haven't ruined your vacation.”

“You haven't,” Marilyn said. “We had a great trip, and we made the most wonderful memories. But Jean, you and Tom are family. Nothing is more important. After we get through this challenging time, I'll invite you both back just to chat about our trip and look at all our pictures.”

“I'd love that,” Jean said.

“Me too,” said Michele.

Marilyn picked up her coffee cup and tucked her feet beneath her on the couch cushion. “Jean, I want you to know how sorry I am. No, how sorry both Jim and I are, for what Tom has put you through these last five months. We don't blame you or see you at fault for any of it. When we first heard about it, we were totally shocked. It seemed so unlike the Tom we know, to do something like this. Jim even said he'd have more easily believed it if you told us Tom had shot somebody.” She took a sip of coffee. “I was almost going to say, that's not how we raised Tom to be. But after hearing what Uncle Henry had to say, I'm not so sure that's true.”

Jean wasn't quite sure what Marilyn meant but decided to just keep listening.

Marilyn continued. “I'm sure you've seen how much Tom admires his dad.”

“Maybe just a tad,” Jean said.

“I think the saying ‘The apple doesn't fall far from the tree' was made for Dad and Tom,” Michele said.

“Well,” Marilyn said, “the fact is, it's been a cause of great concern for me. Really, for several years. I've watched how Tom has treated you and the kids in family settings and, to be honest, most of the time it's really bugged me.”

Jean wanted to ask why she'd never said anything, but she thought she knew the answer.

“Then last summer,” Marilyn said, “after everything came to a head between Jim and me, I kept hoping Tom would see
how much his father had changed, and get the message that most of Jim's example—the things Tom had been following all those years—was wrong, because Jim had repented of them completely. And that maybe Tom might—”

“Do the same?” Jean said.

Marilyn nodded.

“I was hoping and praying for the same thing,” Jean said. “But it didn't happen.”

“So then I started asking Jim about it,” Marilyn said. “Asking him to initiate some dialogue with Tom when we got home that would bring all this to the surface. We talked about it on our Italy trip, even though we both made promises to ourselves not to talk about family problems.”

“That's kind of ironic,” Michele said. “Don't you think? That God was setting up something to bring all this to light at the same time?”

“I guess it is, in a way,” Marilyn said. “But I'm glad Jim didn't have that conversation with Tom yet. Not until we heard what Uncle Henry shared with us yesterday. Because now we see the situation a lot more clearly, and we can get at the root of this thing that's broken in our family.”

“What is ‘this thing' you're talking about?” Michele said.

“It's what your father is talking about right now with Tom. Let me try to explain it.”

 46 

T
om paced back and forth across his living room rug like a restless lion in his cage. Every few minutes he stopped to peek out through the curtains. His dad was supposed to arrive any minute. It was the first time Tom had been home in two days. Somehow, home had lost all its familiar warmth. It didn't help that Jean and the kids were already gone by the time he'd gotten there. That was part of the agreement.

That was the language she'd used, an
agreement
. Not a good sign, Tom thought. Didn't sound like she was moving toward reconciliation. If anything, it sounded like something legal.

And why had his dad asked to meet here at the house, of all places? This was the last place Tom would have picked to have this talk. It represented the biggest of his many failures.

He still remembered the conversation vividly, back near the end of 2007.

“Tom, you don't want to buy that house,” his dad had said. “Not now. Believe me. You do, you'll regret it.”

“I have to buy now, Dad. You don't understand. You've been telling me to wait for over a year. The bubble's gonna burst, you say. Has to. The market can't sustain prices like these. Well . . . look at the market now. They want fifty thousand more than they
did six months ago for houses like this. In three more months, I won't be able to afford a two bedroom in this neighborhood.”

His dad had just looked at him. Didn't say a thing. Just gave him that half-disgusted look, like he'd raised some kind of idiot. That day, Tom had decided not to stand there and take it. “Dad, I appreciate what you're trying to say. Really. But this time, you don't know what you're talking about. You're not paying attention to the housing market anymore. You're working with commercial real estate. A totally different animal.”

“You think so,” his dad replied, raising his voice a few notches. “Well, some things don't fluctuate with the market. Like common sense. I don't care if a thousand realtors and mortgage guys are telling you to buy now, they're out of their minds. All of them. It's simple economics, supply and demand. House prices are super inflated right now. You got all these people getting mortgages with zero down payment, no closing costs, some even borrowing more than the house is worth. I'm telling you, it's totally absurd. The whole thing's gonna come crashing down like a house of cards. Be smart, wait till that happens.
That's
when you should buy. Not now. But hey, you've got it all figured out. What do I know? Do it your way. But if I'm right and you're wrong, don't say I didn't warn you.”

Tom looked out the front window again. His dad's car had just pulled into the driveway. “Well, Dad, you were right, and I was wrong,” he mumbled. “About the house and everything else.” Tom sighed, pulled away, and walked toward the front door. He dreaded this moment. Especially the look in his father's eyes.

A flash went through his mind.
Leave. Leave now. Slip out the sliding glass door in the dining room. You don't have to do this.

But he did. Of course he did.

He glanced at the mirror hanging in the foyer, saw what he always saw. Stood up straight, set his shoulders back, and reached for the knob just as the doorbell rang.

This was it. The door opened.

“Hi, Tom.”

Tom stood there a moment, took a deep breath, and looked into his father's face. When he did, he was taken aback by what he saw. So unlike anything he expected.

Tenderness, kindness.

And then, “I'm so sorry, Son. For everything you're going through.”

Now tears. Tears in his father's eyes?

“Dad, I . . . I really screwed it up.”

His father stepped forward as Tom collapsed into his arms and just sobbed. Strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. “It's okay. It's all right.” He felt those arms squeeze him closer still. “I'm here for you. It's okay.” This went on for several minutes. A thought went through Tom's head. They were standing outside in full view of the neighbors. But it no longer mattered. He was holding the man he'd been wishing his entire life would hold him this tenderly.

Finally, he regained some composure and lifted his head up. “Maybe we should step inside.”

“Okay,” his father said, “you lead the way.”

Tom stepped aside so his father could come in all the way, then closed the door behind him. “Should we meet in the family room? You can head in there, I'll be right in. There's some fresh coffee in the kitchen, if you want some.” He ducked into the half bath beneath the stairway to wash his face and blow his nose. He stood there looking at the roll of toilet paper, wondering if he should bring it with him. He hadn't expected that outburst by the front door and couldn't be sure it wouldn't happen again. Then he remembered the Kleenex box on the hutch.

When he came out, his father was sitting on one end of the sofa. “I just grabbed a glass of ice water, if that's okay.”

“Sure, Dad. Think I'll do the same.” Tom went out to the
kitchen, poured himself a glass, then sat in his usual chair diagonally across from his father. “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

“Sounds like we do,” his father said.

“I suppose Uncle Henry briefed you pretty good on where things are at with me. I mean, my financial situation. But feel free to ask any questions. You can't help me if you don't know what's really going on.” It felt good saying that, because Tom realized he genuinely meant it. He was all done hiding things from this man, and he could tell by just looking at his dad that this was going to be unlike any conversation he'd ever had with him.

“I guess my first question, then, is . . . how bad is it for you guys?”

“It's pretty bad. For starters, there's no way we're going to be able to keep the house. I haven't even told Jean that yet, but I'm pretty sure it won't come as a surprise. The best we can hope for is a short sale instead of a foreclosure. At least one of the cars is gone. Maybe both. I'm hoping to trade them in, maybe get an older minivan, and just have one car payment. But we're underwater on both, especially the SUV. Our credit may be too shot to even do a car deal now.”

“How about . . . your credit cards? What have you got on them?”

Tom hated going there, but there was no way around it. “I know you don't even believe in credit cards, unless you can pay the balance off each month. But I got stuck. Well, trapped is more like it. See, at first—”

“Tom, it's okay. You don't have to defend what you did. I just want to understand what you guys are facing now.”

What was going on here? His dad had said this so gently. Could Tom really just tell him everything now, without fear? He paused, checked his father's facial expression, then continued. “I got just over five thousand on two cards.” His father winced when he heard the amount, but that's all he did.

“And this new job, at the coffee shop—”

“It's just temporary. It's full-time, but it doesn't come close to covering our expenses, not in this house. It's just buying us some time.”

“Putting your finger in the dike,” his father said.

“That's one way of putting it. I'm using the time to study for my IT certification. That's another thing you were right about. I should have gone after it right after I graduated, or at least when I first started at the bank. It keeps coming up in these interviews, the fact that I don't have it. So I'm planning on working at this coffee shop while I study and get ready.”

“How long do you think it will take, to get ready to take those tests?”

“A few more months. But the truth is, even if I got a great IT job tomorrow, we're in such a deep hole, I don't see us ever getting back to square one.”

“Well, don't worry about that now. I know things look bleak—”

“Real bleak.”

“Okay, real bleak. But from what Uncle Henry tells me, you've gotten squared away with the Lord on all this. Right?”

“Yes. Well, almost. I'm still not right with Jean yet. She and I still need to talk.”

“But I mean, you've repented of all the lying and deception.”

“Definitely.”

“Uncle Henry thinks you're committed to doing whatever God tells you to do from here.”

“If I knew what that was,” Tom said. “Then yes, I am.”

“Well, see, you've taken care of the most important things,” his father said. “Nobody fixes things like God. Once we humble ourselves and start looking to him for direction, and we're willing to do whatever he tells us, he can start turning everything around again, working it all to our good and to his glory. I know
all about this now, Tom. Firsthand. You'd be amazed at what God can do, even in a matter of months. That's why I'm here this afternoon. You know that, right? Not to judge but to help you. Maybe share a few of the things I've learned. Some of it from last summer, when I almost lost your mom. Some of it I just learned yesterday from your uncle Henry.”

“He mentioned he had something kind of big to talk to you about.”

“Well, he did. And it was big. I'd like to share it with you if you're okay with that.”

“I'm all ears,” Tom said.