Up in Smoke (19 page)

I hung up the phone and headed to go find Cole. He was doing dishes in the kitchen. “Fred and his PI buddy are coming over. They might have found Lincoln. I’m going to see if the RV they have a picture of is the same one.”

“Okay,” Cole replied.

Not even twenty minutes later, the fire station’s doorbell rang. I headed down the stairs and to the door. Opening the door, I saw two men standing out on the sidewalk.

“Hi,” one man said, stretching out a hand. “I’m Fred. This here is Duke Macer. He’s a PI.”

“Hey,” I replied, shaking both of their hands. “Come in.” Turning to let them in, they declined.

“It’ll only be a moment,” Duke said. He pulled out a picture from his inside coat pocket and handed it to me. “Is this the Winnebago you saw?”

Taking the picture, I looked at it. It was the one. The slightly broken door on the entryway was a dead giveaway. That was the only distinguishable thing I could recall from that awful night. “That’s it,” I said, handing it to him. “Why couldn’t you send this to my phone? I could have identified it just as easily.”

“It’s not always a ‘for sure’ type thing when it’s sent to your phone.” Duke remained emotionless as he put the picture back in his coat pocket. He looked at me and said, “Plus I always like to get a feel for a person I’m working for. Anyway, we’ll cut him off before he makes it to the Canadian border. We’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks. To the both of you,” I said.

“Catching bad guys is what we do best,” Fred replied, beaming with a smile that stretched across his bony jaw line. I could tell he was proud to be involved in the case.

“Hope it works out. I’ll look forward to the call.”

They left and I returned upstairs and grabbed my tablet off the couch in the multi-purpose room. I went into the sleeping quarters to my bunk. I said my prayers and read a little bit before drifting off to sleep. Within a few hours of my visit by Fred and Duke, I got the call I had been waiting for.

“We got him,” Duke said on the other end of the phone.

I sat up in my bunk and let out a “Really?!”

“Shut up!” Kane said from a few bunks down.

“Thank you, so much,” I said in a soft voice into the phone. My fears melted away, and I began to feel a weight lift from my shoulders. He was gone. He was finally gone and I finally felt okay.
Thank you, Lord!
I lay back down and was able to sleep better than I had in a long time.

M
eeting with Pastor Conner every week for the next several weeks, I found myself getting closer with the Lord again. Susan continued to keep to herself out in the guest house, but I came to terms with it. I was just happy she didn’t end up moving when November rolled around. It worried me at first, her staying out in the guest house, but it became the new normal. Our daughter, Beth, found out about the separation when she tried to surprise us with a spontaneous visit. It was awkward, but she came to an understanding even though she didn’t like it.

Taking a seat in the pastor’s office the Saturday before Thanksgiving, I said, “Think it’ll snow before Thursday? Can’t believe we haven’t even seen a dusting so far,” I said as I took off my gloves and warmed my hands by rubbing them together.

The pastor shrugged. “I don’t know. Speaking of . . . any ideas on what you’ll be doing for Thanksgiving?”

I knew what he meant. Was I having Thanksgiving with Susan and the family? He knew just as much as I did—that she had been cold to any of the attempts at reconciliation between the two of us. There was even a little suspicion in both the pastor and me that she was done with me for good. “Oh . . . I don’t know. I was thinking about volunteering down at the shelter on Division.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really have come a distance, Alderman.” He smiled warmly at me as he leaned back in his chair and set his hands together on his stomach.

“I want to help.” I shrugged. “Without much family or my wife, it’s a good way to spend my time. Plus, I’m sure Susan will be hosting some kind of shindig in her guest house. I’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Just give her the house to use that day,” he recommended.

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t think about that.” Looking over my shoulder toward the sanctuary, I asked, “Need any more help for the Thanksgiving play?”

He shook his head and raised a hand. “Building those lighting poles was plenty enough, Rick. Thank you. You ready for retirement?”

“Ready as I ever will be.”

“How many more days?”

“Seven,” I replied, grinning.

“What’s next?” the pastor asked.

Shrugging, I said, “I don’t know. Haven’t figured that out.”

“You will,” he replied. “What else is going on?”

“Got my will done finally. I sat down and just powered through it.”

“Good, good. When did you do that?”

I laughed. “Last night. I remembered last night that you told me to tackle it before I came here today, so I did.”

He smiled. “Good. And your daughter? How’s she?”

“Doing well,” I said.

“Did she and Jonathan get that house?”

“Yep. Escrow closed last Wednesday.”

“That was nice of you to sell that car to help them out like Ron suggested to you. You have some good friends, Rick.”

“I do, I’ve been blessed. I really just want to help whenever I can now. It feels good. It’s satisfying.”

The weekly meetings had turned from counseling into just a friendly get-together and fellowship with a fellow believer. We’d spend a half hour to an hour just catching up and discussing whatever came to us. I treasured my pastor’s advice and conversation.

Later that day, back at the house, I was reading Redeeming Love for the umpteenth time when Susan came into the house to fetch something. I let out a laugh as I read the scene that involved Michael, Sarah and the barn.

She stopped and looked over at me. She was over in the kitchen, and I was in the living room.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“I’m reading Redeeming Love, and—”

She interrupted before I could continue my sentence. “You’re still reading that? And what are you laughing about? If you don’t like the book, just don’t read it! You don’t have to be rude about it.”

She continued off toward the hallway that led back to the laundry room. I got up and dropped my tablet on the couch to pursue her. Catching up behind her, I said, “I was reading the barn scene with Micah and Sarah. It’s funny. As far as reading it, I’ve read it several times through since I got it. I want to read more like it, but I don’t know where to start in the book world.”

She stopped and turned to me. Her anger fell away and was replaced by a surprised look. The corner of her mouth curled up in a smile. “That is a pretty funny part.” She thought for a moment. “Miriam . . . ” She let out a laugh.

I smiled and nodded. “I truly love the book, Susan. I can see why yours is so worn out.”

She turned and continued onward to the laundry room. I followed her again.

“Hey . . . I was thinking about Thanksgiving and—” I began to say.

“I want you to be there, I just feel it’d be awkward, Rick. Could you find something else to do? I know Ron always has that turkey dinner down at Heidi’s every year . . . maybe go to that?”

Her words hurt like a serrated knife jammed into my leg and twisted. Pushing the painful comment aside, I said, “I was just going to offer you the house.”

“Oh,” she replied softly. She looked remorseful for her comment. “I’m sorry I said that. That’d be amazing if I could use the house.” She breathed a relieved sigh. “It’d help a ton, actually. I’ve been worried about how to fit all my family in the guest house.”

I nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “What were your plans?”

“Going to volunteer at a soup kitchen. Figured I’d make use of my time.”

“That’s generous of you.” She looked me in the eyes. It was one of the few times she had since the split. I saw a glimmer of hope in them. I saw a sparkle of that admiration she’d once held for me. She said, “You’ve changed.”

“I didn’t do anything. God did. But yes, I feel different, in a better way. I’m a different person altogether.”

She didn’t say anything, just nodded.

We parted ways. Leaving the laundry room, I went back to the living room. I sat on the couch and held the tablet in my hands to give the impression I was reading, but I wasn’t. While my eyes fixated on the words that lay before me on the tablet, I got lost in my thoughts. I had been with Susan for longer than I’d lived with my parents when I was a kid, almost twice as long. She was all I ever knew when it came to life, and I missed her. My thoughts skipped over to retirement, and then leaped over to the pastor’s question—what’s next?

I didn’t know.

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I prayed for God to help me know what to do next. I put all my trust in Him in that very moment.

T
hanksgiving Day came too fast. When I woke up that morning in my bed, it reminded me of every Thanksgiving we’d ever had in the Alderman household. I could smell the sausage, onions and celery cooking downstairs in the kitchen. Getting out of bed, I made my way down to the kitchen. Susan was nice enough to even brew me a pot of coffee.

She turned to me as I walked in smiling. She grinned over at me from the stove. “Good morning.”

I went around her to the coffee pot. “Thanks for the coffee. Sure feels like old times,” I said, pulling a cup down from the cupboard.

A smile crept from one side of her mouth as she continued pushing the sausage in the skillet around in the pan. Looking over at me as she tilted her head slightly, she said, “Yeah. It really does.”

I took a seat at the kitchen table and began thumbing through the black Friday ads. Toys, clothes, waffle makers and more toys flooded the colorful, full-page ads. “Doors open at six pm Thanksgiving day?” I asked with a laugh under my breath.

She looked over at me. “Yeah . . . every year they get more ridiculous. Not sure why it’s still considered
Black Friday
when it’s on Thanksgiving—a Thursday!”

I continued through the ads. “It truly is ridiculous.”

We shared light conversation for thirty or so minutes. It was enjoyable. I suspected that she reciprocated the feeling, because even though she was done prepping the stuffing for the turkey, she lingered in the kitchen a bit longer than needed.

A text came through on my phone. It was the contact I had down at the Division’s soup kitchen. He needed me to come in right away since one of the volunteers called in sick.

I told Susan about it and then went and put on my favorite sweater. It was a dark gray sweatshirt, rather boring by anyone’s standards, but it was special to me. Susan had bought it for me last winter after my last one got left behind when we vacationed to the hot springs in Idaho. I didn’t even ask her for a new one. She just bought it and surprised me with it one day when I came home from work. It was these little moments that I missed the most since she had left. She had a way about her that kept everything running smoothly in life. “I’ll see you around,” I said on my way through the kitchen to leave.

“Okay.” She turned back to what she was doing before whipping around again to face me. “I’ll put some leftovers for you in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. I left out the front door and headed to the soup kitchen.

Walking into the soup kitchen, I immediately saw the speaker from the men’s breakfast that I had spoken harshly with. I felt an overwhelming need to make amends with the man. I strolled across the smooth cement floor and over to him just as he was leaving a table he had been talking with.

“Hi,” I said as he turned around and saw me.

He smiled.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” I said. Shaking my head as I looked down, I continued. “You were right about blind faith. Man . . .” I let out a laugh. “Our lives are so driven by trusting God fully and being blind to the future. I’ve learned that so much lately, and I’m sorry for what I said.”

He nodded and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you came around, and thank you for the apology.”

“No problem. I’d better get going. I’m helping out here. Gotta find this guy that I’m supposed to meet here.”

“Named Jake?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I tilted my head slightly. “How’d you know?”

“That’s me, Rick!” He laughed.

A smile broke out across my face. “Wow . . . I didn’t even remember your name.” I went flush.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it happens to us all sometimes.”

“Okay,” I replied. He showed me over to the serving stations and helped me get set up. As I began to serve, my eyes scanned across all the tables and the people that were at them. Some of the people looked normal—I’d never guess they were needy if I saw them on the street. Others looked needy. It broke my heart to see so many people there on Thanksgiving Day getting food, but I also felt extremely blessed to be part of their lives, if only for a meal.

It was tragic, yet at the same time, beautiful. So many people were in need, and a dozen or so people were there to help fill that need.

I met and served a multitude of people for the next few hours until the second shift came to help. After saying my goodbyes, I left to go check on Ron at the diner. On my way over to the diner, I reflected on my time at the soup kitchen. The people I met had real problems. Instead of worrying over a pension, they worried over where their next meal was coming from. Instead of being concerned about how much they had in their savings account, they worried where they were going to pillow their head every night in winter in order to live another day. It helped to shape my perspective and give me a deeper understanding of how really petty and small my problems were in light of others.

When I arrived at the diner, I wasn’t surprised to see it busy. Ron’s deep fried turkey was one of the best meals I have eaten in my life, second only to my wife’s turkey. Everything she did, made, or had a part in was just a little bit better than anything else in life.

Penny wasn’t there. It was one of the other ladies that worked there, Ally. She greeted me when I walked in the door. I took a seat up at the bar top and declined the menu she offered me.

“You going to have the Thanksgiving meal?” she asked.

I nodded and looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen’s serve window. “Ron back there?” I asked, glancing at her.

“He is. But he’s a bit busy. Bet you could slip back there and say ‘hi,’ since it’s Thanksgiving and all.”

“I’ll do that,” I replied, getting up from the barstool I sat on. Coming around the bar, I went through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

There he was. His hands moved like a blur as he ran three different burners and worked on slicing turkey all the same time. He didn’t even notice me standing there for a few moments. Looking up at me, he grinned, but the smile fell away. He looked disappointed and asked, “Why aren’t you home with Susan?”

I leaned against the pillar that sat in the middle of the kitchen and let out a long sigh. “Things aren’t so hot with her. I’ve been trying.”

“Try a little harder.” He laughed. “You’ll get there.”

“I don’t know, man. She’s pretty cold about the idea. I’ve been doing counseling with the pastor and she’s still not coming around.”

“You made her pretty mad with all this, eh?” he asked, looking up for a second as he paused for only a moment from cutting slices of turkey.

“Guess so,” I replied, letting out a breath of air from my lips that revealed the defeat I felt inside. Adjusting my feet, I said, “I gave her the house for Thanksgiving . . . let her host all the family she wanted to have over.”

“Isn’t it your family too?” he asked, continuing to fill plates of food and toss them up into the serve window.

“Nah. All my family is back in Arkansas. The ones I have left, anyway.”

He nodded. “What you been up to?”

“I was at the soup kitchen helping out today.”

Ron stopped what he was doing entirely and stared blankly at me. “
You
served at a soup kitchen, Rick?”

“You’re making me nervous, Ron. Go about what you were doing, it’s not that profound.”

He continued his work as he spoke. “No, Rick. That is quite profound for you.” He looked at me and shrugged to his side. “No offense.”

“None taken.” I knew I’d been rather selfish for most of my life, and it wasn’t until I really started getting close to God again and relying on Him that I saw that light.

“So what are you going to do? Aren’t you retiring soon?”

“Yeah, my last day is here in a couple of days. I don’t know my plans yet.” Thinking about Jake and the basis of the message on blind faith, I said, “I’m just going to trust God fully and have faith that He will lead me.”

“You’re sounding like a real Christ-doer, Rick.”

“What’s that?”

“Doing what Christ would do. Remember when He was sweating blood in that garden? He struggled, but He poured his faith into God and trusted.”

I nodded.

Ally popped her head through the double swinging doors and said, “Rick. You got someone here for you.”

“Weird. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here,” I said.

Going out through the double-swinging doors, I froze when I saw Susan standing near the door of the diner. She looked like an angel. She had on her black and white pea coat and a pair of red gloves. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, holding her white purse. She was wearing the red Cloche hat that I had bought her a few winters ago for a fireman’s ball we had attended. She was absolutely breathtaking.

Slowly, I made my way over to her, coming close so I could hear her over the noise of the diner.

She cleared her throat, looking nervous as she said in a soft and delicate tone, “Rick.”

“Susan.”

“I’ve spent quite some time trying to locate you. Is your phone off?”

I reached for my pants pocket and it wasn’t there. “Must be in the car.”

She looked nervous as her eyes bounced around behind me. She was looking all over the diner. Using the brim of my index finger, I pulled her chin delicately to look at me. “What is it, dear?” I asked.

She looked into my eyes so deeply that I could feel our souls touch.

“You don’t know this . . . but I’ve been meeting with the pastor too.” She touched my arm. “Don’t be mad at him. I told him to keep it from you. I didn’t know if this was really what I wanted. I needed to work on me first.”

Even the chilliest November on record in forty years outside couldn’t keep my heart from melting at my wife’s words.

She smiled for a moment and then said, “I want you to come home.” The six sweetest words I had heard all day. Heck, in months, even years, maybe.

“Okay,” I replied, nodding without hesitation.

“I want to make this work, Rick. Please take a minute and think about it,” she insisted. Disbelief at my answer was clear on her face.

Looking into her frightened eyes, I softly grabbed her cheeks, pulled her in close to me, and kissed her.

My heart swelled with so much love, emotion and happiness that I could barely stand it. It was ecstasy to taste those lips again.

“I love you,” I said, rubbing her shoulders as we released from our kiss. “Of course I want to go home with you.”

She smiled, but I could still sense the worry behind those beautiful eyes of hers. But it didn’t matter, we were going home together.