Composing Amelia Read online

  Marcus came up behind her. She tensed in anticipation of his touch, but it never came. She was glad. “Amelia, look, I’m sorry if you were hurt by what I said. You have to know that wasn’t my intention. But if God is telling me to take this job, then what choice do I have but to assume you’re shutting Him out rather than letting Him change your mind?”

  She pulled a butter-yellow poor-boy sweater and brown tweed jacket from the closet and tossed them on the bed, careful to avoid Marcus’s eyes as she turned. Ignoring him, she changed clothes and then reapplied her makeup and brushed her hair. He stood watching her the entire time, saying nothing, and the ball of tension in her stomach grew tighter with every second that she thought over what he had just said. Now she knew firsthand why so many people hated Christians. Thanks to Marcus and Jill she was beginning to rethink her decision to call herself one.

  “Are you going to ignore me all night?”

  Amelia could hear the strain in his voice and wanted to hit him for being mad. He had no reason, none whatsoever, to be anything but a groveling mess of guilt and remorse. She said nothing, moving to the kitchen to fix a snack before leaving for the party. Though the more she thought about it, the less sure she was she wanted to spend the evening with people from church. They were probably all just as two-faced as Jill and Marcus.

  “Amelia, come on.”

  She bit her sandwich, poured a glass of milk.

  “This is ridiculous. You can yell at me all you want, I’m okay with that, just … do something.”

  She took her plate and glass to the table and sat down, staring out the window and clinging to her spite to stop herself from giving him what he wanted. He sat down across from her and stared at her as though he could subdue her by the sheer force of his thoughts. “Look.” His voice was calm, though she heard the irritation behind it and was pleased to know she’d finally shaken Mr. Even Keel. “I know this is painful. I know it means giving up the theater job. I know you see it as a step backward for your career. But do you not trust God to take care of you in Nebraska? Do you think He’s incapable of bringing you opportunities? It’s not a third-world country we’re moving to, you know. There are musicians there too. We’ll start looking for jobs tomorrow, since we both have the day off. We’ll get you a whole list of them to work off of.”

  This was his best offer? Please. She ate her last bite, swallowed the last of her milk, and checked her watch. Only then, as she stood to leave for the party, did she respond. “There’s no need. I’m not going.” She pulled gloves and earmuffs from a basket on the floor by the door and pocketed her phone and keys. “Don’t wait up.” Without waiting to see if he planned on joining her, Amelia left for the bus stop, wishing she was going to a party with spiked punch and hoping the new year would start better than this one was ending.

  “Amelia!”

  Amelia groaned inside as Jill’s voice rose above the din of the crowd around the bonfire. It had been easier to avoid a serious conversation with Jill at the community supper because there had been so many people crammed in their apartment, but out here with everyone spread out on the beach, Amelia knew she wouldn’t be so lucky. And she’d had so much on her mind she hadn’t given any thought to how to respond when, and if, Jill finally apologized.

  Jill reached Amelia’s side, and the look on her face told Amelia she was contrite. “I’m so glad you came. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

  Amelia shrugged. “Not a lot of other options.”

  “Yeah, but still. I’m glad you came. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you; didn’t you get my messages?”

  Amelia nodded. They’d all met the same fate Marcus’s messages had that afternoon. “I did, yeah. Just … didn’t feel like responding.”

  Jill nodded. “I know. I understand. And I’m really sorry. I really wasn’t trying to say you weren’t a Christian. I can’t see your heart; only God can do that, and it’s all between Him and you anyway. It’s none of my business. Do you forgive me?”

  Amelia swirled her Styrofoam cup of lukewarm hot chocolate. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

  Jill smiled. “Thanks. I really mean it.”

  “I know you do.”

  Jill glanced around. “I still haven’t seen Marcus. Did he come? Dane saw you first and was all psyched you guys were here.”

  “No, he’s not here. And I don’t know if he’s coming.” Normally she’d have called Jill to vent and cry the second she left the apartment, but obviously she hadn’t wanted to do that. But even now that Jill had apologized, Amelia felt weird telling her what had happened. “We … We had a fight.”

  Jill frowned. “Oh no. What happened?”

  “He took the job in Nebraska, even though he promised not to if I didn’t want to go.”

  Jill’s face registered the appropriate shock and Amelia felt a little safer. “Are you serious? That doesn’t sound like Marcus.”

  “It gets better. He tried to use the ‘I’m the man, it’s my call’ card.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say. What did you say?”

  “I told him I wasn’t going.” She left out the part about divorce, knowing Jill would overreact. “I have a job, he made a promise, it’s that simple.”

  “What did he say?”

  Amelia drained the rest of her hot chocolate and wandered toward the trash can as Jill fell in beside her. Marcus’s actual words had left her, but the gist of them had left their mark. “That his job was more important than mine. That he knew God better than I did. That I didn’t have any faith.”

  Jill’s mouth hung open. “He said all that? Marcus?”

  “Not those exact words, no, but that’s what he meant. If he keeps this up I’ll be glad to see him leave.”

  “But … he wouldn’t really leave without you, would he? And you wouldn’t really let him go—right?”

  Amelia took a slow breath, sensing Jill’s support was not going to extend as far as Amelia had hoped. “I’m not the boss of him. If he wants to leave, he can leave, that’s his choice. But I’m not going to chase him and beg him to stay, and I’m sure as heck not going to follow along behind him like a will-less Stepford wife. If he breaks his promise and decides to go, then I’ll be glad I saw this side of him six months into our marriage instead of six years.”

  “Amelia, what are you saying?”

  “Hey, guys.” They turned in tandem to see Dane and Marcus approaching. Amelia was stunned that he’d even decided to come, and could tell by the look on Dane’s face that Marcus had already shared his side of the story. Marcus’s face told her nothing had changed for him, and she bristled, crossing her arms and squaring her stance in the sand, preparing herself for a face-off.

  “Marcus told me what happened,” Dane said. Jill nodded, her face telling him she knew as well. “I don’t want to see you two split up over this.”

  Marcus shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. “What am I supposed to do?” His mouth worked as though preparing to speak again, but then clamped tight as he cast his eyes to the sand.

  “There’s got to be a compromise,” Jill said. “There’s got to be some way to fix this.”

  “I don’t think this is necessarily the place to try to work this out,” Amelia said, not liking the feeling of such a serious discussion in the middle of so many other people. “I kind of wanted to forget about it all for the evening and just enjoy the holiday with my friends.” She would have preferred to spend it with her husband, too, but not when he was acting like this.

  “You know …” They all looked to Dane, though Amelia wasn’t as interested in what he had to say as the others appeared to be. Unless he flat out told Marcus to stay in LA, she doubted she’d appreciate his idea. Dane looked at Jill. “We have that second bedroom. It’ll be the nursery next year, but we won’t need to do that for a long time …” He scratched his chin, thinking while the rest of them wondered where he was going with this. “Okay, so, this might sound crazy, but what if you guys both took a trial run with yo
ur jobs? Amelia could stay with us, Marcus could move to Nebraska, and when Amelia’s first show is over she can reevaluate to see if it’s where she really wants to be.”

  Amelia gave him a dark look. “Why am I the one who has to reevaluate? Shouldn’t Marcus have to do the same thing?”

  Dane thought a moment. “Well … when does your first show end?”

  Amelia thought back to the conversation she’d had last week with Ross. “Just before Easter, I think?”

  “Okay, perfect. At Easter you can both talk it over and see where you stand. It should be a mutual thing, both of you agreeing to be open to the possibility that you’re not in the right place. No gloating from the other party allowed.”

  As little as she wanted to admit it, Dane’s suggestion had merit. She’d have to move anyway if Marcus left; it took both their incomes to pay the bills. And Amelia was certain it wouldn’t be her packing bags and booking a flight come April. What did she have to lose? She swallowed hard. Here goes nothing. “Okay.”

  The other three looked at her with varying expressions of surprise. “Really?” Marcus said. “You’re willing to stay behind?”

  She cocked a brow. “You could always just stay, you know.”

  “No,” Marcus said, head shaking. “I appreciate the idea, Dane, but no.”

  “You know, Marcus,” Amelia said as a new angle dawned to her. “When we were dating you always said you’d be okay if one of my gigs toured around a little. This isn’t really any different. This is what it would be like, you know? Well, except you’re the one moving, and not me. But the result is the same. If you were okay with that, then why is what you’re doing any different? I mean, sure it’s longer than we were thinking I’d be gone, but three months is still less than a typical tour.”

  “Yeah, but … I just …” Marcus rolled his eyes heavenward. “It’s just different.”

  “It’s really not.”

  “There has to be another solution.”

  Amelia shrugged. “If there is, none of us are thinking of it.”

  Marcus blew out a breath that fogged in front of him. “All right. Fine. Three-month trial run.”

  Amelia found herself smiling. She never would have expected a somewhat happy ending to this. She even had it in her to peck Marcus on the cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance and sighed. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

  She hooked an arm through his and tugged him toward the table of food. “Come on, let’s get a snack. Fighting always makes me hungry.”

  Marcus stared as his phone, willing his finger to dial but not able to make it happen. He didn’t often feel such conflict, but Randall Sheffield had an uncanny ability to make Marcus feel all sorts of things he didn’t like. And yet I keep after him. I’m such a glutton for punishment.

  He’d almost called his parents a dozen times to tell them the news, but he knew trying to explain the arrangement with Amelia was going to ruin the moment. Part of him was tempted to conveniently forget to mention that part. But, besides the fact that he didn’t want to lie to his parents, he knew somehow it would come out eventually, and the last thing he wanted was to give his father another reason to be disappointed with him. That was the catch, though—there was no way to spin this so that he wouldn’t be disappointed. He prayed that, for once, his father’s pride in his son’s achievements would overshadow what he knew his father would perceive as Marcus’s weakness as a husband.

  Finally his finger jabbed at the buttons, and before he could change his mind his mother had answered. “Hey, Mom,” he said, mentally cursing the nervous break in his voice. “I’ve got some good news.”

  “Oh, wonderful—what is it?”

  “That job I told you about at Christmas? I got it. I’m the senior pastor of New Hope Church in Wheatridge, Nebraska.”

  At least he could always count on his mother for enthusiasm. “Oh, Marcus, that’s fantastic, congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

  Marcus smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

  He heard his father’s voice in the background. His stomach tensed. “Your father heard me cheering and wants to know what the fuss is about. Here he is.” A brief crackle on the line ensued, then his father’s voice was in his ear. “What’s going on, Marcus?”

  “That job, in Nebraska—I got it.”

  “Didn’t Amelia just get a job?”

  “Yes, she did.” Leave it to his dad to hone in on that and not Marcus’s accomplishment.

  “So she’s giving it up for you, eh?”

  Marcus couldn’t believe his ears. Either he was mistaken, or a note of pride had infiltrated his father’s voice. The temptation to say yes was almost too strong to withstand, but knowing he’d have to get Amelia to lie along with him made him tell the truth. “No, actually—she’s going to stay in LA with some friends of ours. At least until her first show is over. After that she’ll probably come out.” He winced at the half truth, but just couldn’t help himself.

  “Wait—she’s staying here? You’re going to lose her to her career, you know. If you weren’t able to convince her to come now, she never will. You’ll be divorced by this time next year, mark my words. And what kind of a church is this that they’re putting you in charge at twenty-six and no experience? Either you’ll drive it into the ground or they’ll chew you up and spit you out. You’ve taken on more than you can handle, Marcus. Amelia has the right idea. Stay in LA.”

  The crackle hit his ear once more, and he heard his father’s voice receding in the background before his mother spoke up. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she said, her tone as smooth and soothing as it always was when she was salving the wounds of her husband’s bite. “God will work it all out, don’t you worry.”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.” With all the joy sucked out of him he no longer had the energy to keep up the conversation. “I’ll keep you updated.”

  Marcus hung up the phone and dropped it to the cushion beside him on the couch. Once again history had repeated itself. His father always knocked him down, and Marcus kept getting up and asking for more.

  One day, though, he’ll be supportive, Marcus told himself. He has to be eventually, right? And Marcus was determined to give him something to be supportive about. He’d been working at it for this long—he wasn’t going to stop now.

  Ten days later Marcus was sealing up the last of his boxes in preparation for their shipment to Nebraska, eager to get on the road. He’d experienced a brief moment of paralyzing doubt after speaking to his father, and had very nearly called Ed Donovan to rescind his acceptance. But it had been Amelia, of all people, who had encouraged him to stick it out.

  “Is this or is this not what you’ve always wanted? And you’re going to let your pessimistic, hypercritical father ruin that for you? You give him an awful lot of power, don’t you?”

  She’d said the words with venom, and it took Marcus by surprise. He’d had no idea she felt that negatively about his father. He’d never met anyone who spoke of him with anything other than respect and admiration. But even though the words stung, the more he thought about them, the more he had to agree. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He’d get fired for not knowing what he was doing and prove his father right. Again. It was definitely a worst-case scenario Marcus didn’t like to contemplate, but eating humble pie was more savory than tasting regret for the rest of his life.

  And for a brief moment, Marcus had basked in what was the closest thing to a supportive comment Amelia had made about this whole situation. Her attitude toward his new job hurt far more than he’d ever let on to her. He understood why she was angry, and didn’t want her to feign support out of guilt, so he’d never admitted it to her. But he sorely missed the encouragement he craved and that, until now, she’d always provided.

  The planning of the move went faster than he’d expected, and when Ed floated January 20 as Marcus’s start date, he’d found he had no reason not to accept it. He’d given notice at his jobs as soon as
he’d taken the position with the church, and the days passed quickly as he packed and prepared for the move. The busyness had been a welcome distraction from the one hitch in this whole plan that still made his heart hurt: leaving Amelia.

  At first he’d thought she was completely cool with the arrangement. He watched carefully for signs of sadness or anxiety, but she seemed her typical, chipper self—until he recognized her upbeat demeanor as the same smoke screen busyness was for him. And when he caught her crying in the bathroom the night before he left he’d felt both awful and relieved at the same time. She was going to miss him. She did love him. They connected at that moment more intimately and passionately than they had in months, and set aside packing for a while to just talk.

  “I was crazy when I said I didn’t mind if you toured,” Marcus said, nuzzling the base of her neck and inhaling the coconut scent that lingered in her hair from that morning’s shower. “I was a stupid, ignorant boy in my youth.”

  She chuckled. “The youth of that whole year and a half ago?”

  He smiled. “I’ve grown a lot since then.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re a sage.”

  “You’re sure you can trust these theater guys, now? The theater kids always made me nervous in high school.”

  She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean, trust?”

  “Oh, you know—they’re not going to try to make any moves on you or take you out and get you drunk?”

  She laughed. “Seriously not the kind of thing you need to worry about. I think Ross and Gabe are okay people, and theater guys are pretty harmless. It was the guys in the automotive classes you had to be careful about. Never knew when they might jump on the hood of the wreck they were fixing and bust out with ‘Greased Lightning.’ You know what that kind of choreography does to a girl’s senses.”

  They both lost their breath laughing, and Marcus held Amelia tighter as they both recovered. This was the Amelia he loved. He’d missed her the last few weeks. How was he going to handle the physical distance for three months when he’d barely handled the emotional distance of the last twenty-four days?