It had been a long day, and it was late. Ariel still wasn't home, but Shaw didn't know that yet. I did not want to interrupt his reading. If Ariel could come home quietly and go to bed without a fuss, a confrontation could be avoided. I wished for her to come home sooner rather than later. There was a rustle just outside the house. I peeked out the window, hoping it was Ariel, but not knowing who else it would be.
"Ariel!" a voice called. "Ariel!"
Chuck Cranston. I should have known. Wrapping my robe around me, I glanced at Shaw, who was still absorbed in his reading, and slipped quietly outside.
"She's not here, Chuck." I said, tiredly.
He jumped at the sound of another voice, and I almost chuckled. "Oh, Mrs. Moore." He was recovered now, acting as though nothing had happened.
"Did I scare you?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"Oh no, not at all," he said smoothly. "Did you tell Ariel that…"
"Yes, Chuck. I've told her every time you've called." I said, cutting him off.
"I guess she's busy and all," he said, elusively.
"Hm. She and the girls went over to Wendy Jo's to study."
"Really? I was just at Wendy Jo's. She said Ariel left hours ago…with Rusty." Chuck stated greasily.
A syllable escaped my mouth in surprise, "Oh."
"Who is it, Vi?" I heard Shaw in the doorway behind me. "Oh, Mr. Cranston." At the sight of the high school dropout, Shaw stepped in front of me and crossed his arms.
"'Evening, Reverend. I was just lookin' for Ariel."
"Isn't it a bit late, Mr. Cranston?" Shaw asked rhetorically. He sounded tired.
"Yessir, that's why I'm surprised she's not home," Chuck said with his usual smirk.
"Really? So am I." Shaw threw a glance back in my direction. I looked away. "Good night, Mr. Cranston. And please remember, we have a front door for guests."
"Yessir," Chuck replied as he sauntered away.
I turned and reentered the house, Shaw behind me. This was about to be a conversation that I didn't want to have. I tried to escape upstairs, but before I could, Shaw sighed in exasperation. "Where is she?"
I stopped. "She told me she was going to Wendy Jo's." Without turning around, I said sharper than I intended to, "Don't bother calling. She's not there."
I heard him hang up the phone. "Did you know about this?"
I turned to him, my tone incredulous: "No, I did not!"
"So, how does it feel, Vi, now that she's lying to you." Shaw said. I could tell he was trying to ignite something.
I walked to him in the kitchen and stood on the opposite side of the table. "I'm not saying anything until I hear an explanation from her." I emphasized the last 2 words, making it clear that I wanted to hear all parts of the story before making a decision.
"Ha! Well, it was bad enough when she was running around with Chuck Cranston. But now, she's out in the middle of the night with this… punk who's trying to challenge me and the town council! How long can you keep defending her?" Shaw said, leaning over the table towards me.
"I'm not defending her! We're not on opposite side here, are we?" I cried out, disbelieving. "Or are we?" I finished quietly.
Shaw opened his mouth to retort when the front door slammed shut. His head snapped up as Ariel entered the kitchen area. "Where were you?"
"Oh, Rusty and Wendy Jo and me, we were…" Ariel began happily.
"Don't," Shaw cut her off, "even bother."
Joining Shaw on the other side of the table, I decided that it was time someone state the situation, plain and simple. "We know you weren't at Wendy Jo's."
Ariel's expression fell further, then went to disgust. "I can't believe you're checking up on me!" she said, as she brushed past me to put her jacket on the counter.
"Sweetie, how do we know you're not sick or hurt?" I said gently.
"I'm concerned for your well-being," Shaw said. He was genuine, and it touched my heart to hear it. He hadn't really been genuine in anything he said since Bobby died.
"Oh really? Then how come when I'm home, you never care about what I say or how I feel? But the minute I walk out that door, suddenly you're the concerned parent." Ariel said, bitterly and sarcastically.
I could feel the blood beginning to boil. Walking back to Shaw, I tried to tranquilize the tempers, "Shaw, she doesn't mean that."
"Stop taking her side!" he shouted at me. I turned away. "She's got to start answering for herself, Vi!"
I turned to watch the argument from the vantage point of the counter. I needed space. Shaw had hurt me. His words stung, but his tone burned.
"Well, I don't know what good that would do! You don't listen to me anymore than you listen to her!" Ariel shouted.
I saw his hand fly up. I saw her shrink away. I saw rage burn like fire in his blue eyes. And I saw the fear in hers. I was helpless to stop it.
God, no. Make him stop.
"Shaw!" I screamed, shocked and afraid.
His hand stopped dead on its path, a look of horror coming across his face. Ariel, her eyes wide with fear, looked into Shaw's eyes and then mine. I began to walk around the table slowly. I reached my arms out to her - and to him. If only I could just hold them both in my arms - she was gone. She ran upstairs, and a silence ensued as Shaw looked at his hand in disbelief. Looking up from it, he looked me in the eyes and said, "I have never hit anyone."
I turned away, feeling the tears begin to burn again in my eyes. "I know."
"We're losing her, Vi. She's become willful and obstinate," he said as he collapsed into a chair at the head of the table.
"Like her father," I said, smiling slightly as I turned to him.
"I am her spiritual guardian," he said, firmly.
"You used to be her friend!" I said, desperately.
"I…I just don't understand. I don't know what to do anymore," he said, defeated.
"Yes, you do," I said quietly. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive her? Can't you stop and see there's part of her that's trying to obey, while part of her is dying to run away? Can't you hear what she's trying to say?"
I walked to his other side, knowing that he wasn't really listening to me. "Can you find it in your soul to accept her? If she stumbles on your holy path, do you have to reprimand? Or are there ways to make her understand, without using the back of your hand?"
At my last words, he turned to me, sadness consuming his gaze. He was finally listening. I sat down at the table, next to him.
"Can't you remember when we were that age: pumped up with promise, and wrestling with rage?"
He smiled slightly as he took my hands into his own, toying with my wedding ring. How long had it been since he had held my hand or held me in his arms?
"Can't you remember when we were a family back when? Could we be one again?"
Shaw looked at me in disbelief, withdrawing his hands. "But we are a family."
I was tired of being silent. The truth was coming out now. "No, ever since Bobby's death, you've made impossible demands on Ariel."
He stood up from the table and turned to me, "I have not confused Ariel's behavior with my son's death."
"He was my son too!" I cried, standing quickly from the table and turning away. A tear found its way down my cheek. I brushed it away. Turning to him, I began, "Shaw, it's been 21 years I've been a minister's wife and I still feel that you are a wonderful preacher. You can lift a congregation up so high, they have to look down to see heaven!"
We were so close now. He held my hands gently, his gaze tender and almost happy. No, I couldn't do it. I couldn't break the moment. I could finally see that he loved me again. But the truth! It hurts. And here we are, so close to love again! It was my choice: the truth, or his love. Praying that I wouldn't regret my decision - "But it's the one on one where you need a little work." Truth.
A pang of regret stabbed my stomach as I searched his blue eyes for understanding. Nothing. They seemed to go from summer sky to ice in seconds. I held his hands a little tighter, hoping to hold them for just a little while longer. He pulled away from me, turning to walk out of the kitchen. He turned back to me. I hoped that just for one second, he would make it right - "I thought that, at least, you still believed in me."
And he was gone. I stood in the kitchen, alone. We had come so close. I saw the man that I had married: not a grief-driven pastor, whose sole job was to set everyone right, but a thoughtful, kind-hearted man who cared for everyone and his/her salvation. Did he ever think about me? Did he ever think about how much I cared?
"Does it ever cross your mind that I miss you?" I whispered. I knew Shaw couldn't hear me, but it gave me comfort to whisper to the wind. "Is there any chance we'll find the joy that we shared at the start? Can you remember what you felt, before that feeling…fell apart? Can you find it in your heart?"
I stopped. All the time we've lost…I never stopped loving him. Every day, I loved him more and more. What if he stopped loving me on that awful day, 5 years ago? I don't think I've been a bad wife. I've tried to be supportive of him in everything he does, but maybe I haven't done enough. I've told him the truth in the most loving way possible. What more can I say to him? Did he still care? Did he still love me?
I leaned on the table, letting my arms support me, for my legs could not. My heart skipped a few beats as dark thoughts of a future without loving Shaw crossed my mind.
No.
Letting out a small sob, I whispered again, "Have you lost my love somewhere far behind? Or can you find it in your heart?"
When Bobby was killed, the future seemed eternally dark. I thought we could get through it as a family, but now -
Oh, Shaw…
I collapsed into a chair and buried my face in my hands, breaking the silence with nothing but my anguished gasps for breath as I cried for a lost future.