Written in the Stars - Sample Chapter
Chapter 1
Taking a sheet from the laundry basket, Michaela Reynolds folded it in half as she glanced at the television before her. Although she'd turned it on mostly for company while she folded clothes that evening, she'd become interested in the romantic comedy.
She stopped for a moment to watch as the couple on the screen sailed off into the sunset, their sailboat cutting gracefully through gentle waves, the colors on the horizon blazing red, orange and purple as the sun sank lazily into an azure blue ocean. Romantic music played as the boat grew smaller and smaller.
She hugged the sheet to her chest, and her thoughts drifted away. To feel the fresh ocean breeze . . . the gentle motion of the waves . . . to sail away to an exotic island . . . away from all the cares in the world . . . to be so deeply in love . . .
It seemed so long ago that she and her husband, Ben, had ever been that in love. She wondered what had happened. How had everything changed right under her nose?
"Mom!" The voice of her six-year-old daughter, Jordan, broke into her trance. "Zach has a stinky diaper."
It took a moment for reality to return. Michaela wanted to stay in her daydream, inside the boat, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. And more than anything, she wanted for Ben and her to be like they used to be-putting each other first, doing little thoughtful acts of love for each other, facing life's challenges together, side by side.
"Oh, yuck. It's everywhere!" Jordan yelled again.
This was eighteen-month-old Zachary's fifth day with diarrhea, and it still wasn't getting better. He'd gotten it from his twin brother, Gabriel, who'd had it last week. Michaela wondered if she should take him to the doctor again.
Hurrying into the playroom, she was greeted with the overwhelming stench of a messy diaper and a smiling Zachary, who was standing in a puddle on the carpet that had just been steam cleaned.
"Poo-poo," he said with pride. He lifted one leg and smiled at his mother. Gabriel was playing with a little plastic fire truck and happily running its wheels through the puddle.
Fighting the urge to flee to her bedroom and hide, wishing her husband could be home early just once during the week, Michaela scooped up Zachary, threw a towel over the soiled spot and ran to the bathtub, with Gabriel following close at her heels. She deposited Zach in the tub, where he immediately set to playing with his Sesame Street tub toy, giggling as his mother attempted to remove his soiled clothes and diaper. Gabe whined because he wanted to get in the tub with his brother, but Michaela wouldn't let him.
Jordan, who'd discovered the mess in the first place, poked her head in to see what was going on. "Oooh, stinky. Can I have a fruit snack, Mommy?"
"Sure," Michaela answered. "Hand me that washcloth, sweetie. And get a fruit snack for Gabe, please."
Jordan gave her the washcloth and skipped off to get the snacks. Michaela was grateful that Jordan was such a mellow child because the twins were a handful. Actually, they were two handfuls and completely out of control. One or the other of them was usually into something-either pulling all the books off the bookshelves, dumping boxes of cereal onto the kitchen floor, unloading the cupboards in the bathroom, or drawing on the walls with pens and markers that could always be found, no matter how well Michaela kept them hidden and out of their reach.
She scrubbed Zach with soap and rinsed him off, then pulled him out of the tub. Wrapping him in a towel, she whisked him off to his room to get him diapered and ready for bed. She lived for bedtime. It was the only time she had to herself-when the kids were asleep.
"Mom!" another voice wailed. "You shrunk my jeans!"
Michaela closed her eyes and prayed for strength. Her twelve-year-old daughter, Lauryn, was probably her biggest challenge. Lauryn knew exactly which buttons to push, and she pushed them often. Michaela would rather change five of Zach's dirty diapers than deal with one of Lauryn's emotional outbursts.
Lauryn had reached the age when the acceptance of her peers was more important than anything. She had to have the right clothes, the right hairstyle, the right makeup. Everything had to be perfect or her life was miserable. And when Lauryn's life was miserable, so was everyone else's.
Michaela worried about her twelve-year-old, who already had the body of a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old. Remembering back upon her own youth, Michaela hadn't really grown and matured until the summer after her eighth-grade year. Lauryn's body had matured early, but her emotions and coping skills were still those of a twelve-year-old. Lauryn took after Ben's side of the family with her honey-colored hair, hazel green eyes, and smooth, creamy skin. She was also built like Ben's side of the family, long-legged and tall. All the boys at school seemed to have suddenly taken notice of her, which wasn't helping.
"Honey, I didn't even dry them," Michaela hollered back. "Zach, hold still!" Zach loved to run around without any clothes on, as did his twin brother. The other kids got a kick out of watching them streak naked through the house.
But Michaela was in no mood tonight to chase naked babies around the house or deal with a pair of shrunken jeans. In fact, if these kids didn't get to bed soon, she wouldn't be able to guarantee their safety. She'd had it with all of them!
"Mom!" Lauryn whined. "I wanted to wear those jeans to school tomorrow."
"Go throw them in the washer again, and I'll try to stretch them out for you," Michaela yelled, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into her voice.
"Mom," another voice yelled, this one from her son, Isaac. "I'm running over to Brandon's house to do my math."
She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. "Don't be late."
"I won't," he replied, clearly annoyed. The door slammed and Zach started to cry. He lived to go outside, especially when his big brother was out there.
"Come on, let's get you a bottle," Michaela told Zach, who stopped wailing at the offer and sniffled.
While Lauryn stomped down the hallway to her bedroom and slammed the door shut, Michaela quickly filled two bottles with milk. She really needed to wean the twins, but she was as attached to their bottles as they were. It was the only way she could get the beds made in the morning or dinner made in the evening. At least they'd sit and drink their bottles and watch Barney for half an hour. She laid Zach in his bed with his stuffed dog, Woofy, and grabbed Gabe, who was in the bathroom dipping fruit snacks in the toilet before eating them.
"Gabe, honey," she scolded. "No, no."
"No, no!" he yelled back and ran for the door.
Michaela caught him and carried him kicking and screaming to his room. She laid him in bed with his bottle, and he immediately curled up with his Pooh Bear. Michaela released a weary sigh. Who needed aerobics when she had active twin sons?
From the instant she had brought the twins home, everyone's lives had been drastically altered by their presence in the home. At first, Michaela had hoped to continue teaching piano lessons, but with twins in the house, reality struck her with the force of a Mac truck, and she'd had to tell her twelve students to find another teacher. Not that the twins weren't worth it, but she had loved teaching piano, using her background in music to help young children develop a love for music. At times she missed the fulfillment teaching had provided her. She hoped that someday she would be able to resume teaching, but that day seemed so far away.
"Mommy," Jordan called from the family room. "The carpet's all squooshy and wet."
"What?" Michaela shut the door to the twins' room and went to see what Jordan was talking about.
"The carpet's-"
Walking into the family room, Michaela screamed, scaring Jordan to tears. Sure enough, the carpet was soaked. The water appeared to be coming from the laundry room.
"Lauryn!" Michaela yelled at the top of her lungs, running for the washer. "Jordan, please stop crying." As she opened the lid to the washer, she heard footsteps pounding down the hallway.
"What!" her daughter said with a huff of annoyance.
"Look what you've done!" Michaela demanded, angry tears blurring her vision. The washer was so packed with jeans, towels, and bedding that the agitator couldn't move. Lauryn would have had to jump on the load to pack it in so tightly. Water was spilling out over the top where the washer was trying to fill the tub but couldn't saturate the contents.
Michaela quickly shut off the washer. "Put Jordan to bed," she commanded.
Lauryn opened her mouth to respond but clamped it shut again. Taking one look at her mother's face, she quickly obeyed.
Grabbing dry towels out of the nearest bathroom, Michaela packed the threshold going out of the laundry room to prevent more water from seeping onto the carpet. Inside the laundry room, water slowly emptied through the drain on the floor. She removed some of the items from the washer and then started the cycle over, knowing she would have dozens of towels to wash after she soaked up the water in the family room.
Irritated with herself for not buying the wet/dry vacuum at Costco that she'd wanted, Michaela moved the couch and rocker out of the way and laid towels all along the baseboards. Her husband, Ben, hadn't felt they could afford the vacuum, not with their oldest son, Jared, on a mission in Argentina.
Michaela began stepping on the towels to soak up the water. As soon as one towel was completely wet, she replaced it with another dry towel and continued the process. Sweat formed on her brow as she worked to get the water up as quickly as possible. Right in the middle of the disaster cleanup, the phone rang. She let it ring three times, thinking Lauryn would answer it, but finally on the fourth ring she reached for the phone herself.
"This is Neva Patterson. Is the bishop home?" an elderly voice asked.
"No," Michaela answered breathlessly. "He's at the church."
"Oh, dear," Sister Patterson said. "I need to talk to him right away."
"Why don't you try calling over at the church?" she suggested, with as much patience as she could muster. As often as Sister Patterson called, Michaela thought the woman would know her husband's schedule by now.
"Do you happen to have that number?" the woman asked.
Michaela was up to her eyeballs in soggy towels, and the last thing she felt like doing was playing "information" for ward members. "Just a minute," she said, finding the ward list and giving Sister Patterson the number for their church building.
Somewhat pacified, the older woman hung up and Michaela went back to work.
It wasn't enough that her husband, Ben, worked long hours as a broker training specialist for Hampton & Gibb, which took him out of town three or four times a month. For the last two years he had also been bishop of their ward. Both jobs were so demanding that he was rarely home, and his absence was felt in every aspect of his family's lives. With all the challenges at work and the constant demands from their ward, Michaela and the kids had gradually become used to being shoved onto the back burner. In fact, they'd been placed there so many times, they hardly bothered to include him in their activities anymore; it saved the energy of being disappointed or waiting anxiously for him to show up. They didn't like having him gone, but they'd been forced to adjust.
"What's going on?" It was Isaac, just getting back from his friend's house. He stood at the doorway as Michaela gathered up the last batch of wet towels off the carpet. It wasn't dry by any means, but it was as good as she could get it.
"The washer overflowed," she told him wearily, spraying carpet cleaner on the carpet where Zach had had his accident.
He pulled a face. "Do you need some help?"
She appreciated the offer; Isaac was a pretty thoughtful kid, when he wasn't wrapped up in himself. "I just need to get the fan from the basement and turn it on to help the carpet dry," she said, scrubbing the spot on the carpet until the stain was gone.
"I'll go get it," he offered.
"Thanks," she replied, with an appreciative smile.
She loaded another batch of towels into the washer and folded the batch that came out of the dryer, making sure to pull Lauryn's jeans out and stretch them while they were wet. She didn't want to wake up to another crisis, especially after tonight.
Isaac came upstairs with the fan and plugged it in, angling it toward the wet carpet. Just then the phone rang.
"Can you get it?" Michaela requested. "If it's Sister Patterson, tell her your dad still isn't home." She glanced at her watch and noticed it was almost eleven. Her husband usually got home around ten-thirty or so, but something must have held him up at the church. As usual.
"Mom," Isaac said. "It's for you."
She stuck her head out of the laundry room and mouthed, "Who is it?" to him.
He shrugged and set the phone on the counter. "I'm going to bed," he said.
Michaela pushed the straggly wisps of hair off her face as she walked to the phone. All she wanted to do was go to bed and escape.
"Hello?" she asked, wondering which member of the ward was in urgent need of her husband now.
"Mikki?" a woman's voice said. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
"Yes?" Michaela answered, searching her memory for a name to fit the voice.
"Mikki, this is Chelsie. Chelsie Powell."
"Chelsie! Omigosh, how are you?" Michaela exclaimed, collapsing onto a bar stool. She hadn't talked to Chelsie for months, and had forgotten that she and her husband, Nathaniel, were moving back to town after living in Switzerland. "Where are you?"
"We're finally back, Mikki. I couldn't wait to call so I took a chance you were still up." Chelsie's voice held a mixture of fatigue and excitement. She and her husband had originally planned to stay in Switzerland for two years, but then Nathaniel had a chance to transfer back to the states. Chelsie, homesick for family and friends, had begged him to take it. When Chelsie and Nathaniel had first moved to Switzerland, Michaela remembered thinking how fun and adventurous it sounded to live in a foreign country like that. Chelsie and her husband didn't have children yet, so it was easier for them to move overseas.
"I'm glad you're back," Michaela told her. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," her friend replied. "Have you talked to Jocelyn lately?"
"Not since Christmas. She's so busy with her travel business I hardly see her anymore."
"I can imagine. I tried to call her, too, but she's in San Francisco right now. She'll be home this weekend, and that's partly why I called. We need to get together and go out to dinner so we can catch up on what everyone's been doing."
Michaela didn't tell her friend that her life wasn't worth catching up on, but she was all for having an evening away from home with her friends. "Whatever is good for you and Jocelyn, just let me know," she said, trying to cover a yawn that sneaked up on her. It had been a long day and she was tired, too tired, in fact to shower before going to bed, even though her shirt was uncomfortably damp from her earlier exertions.
"I'll call you back after I talk to her. Hey, are you okay?" Chelsie's voice softened. "You don't sound good."
It was just like Chelsie to pick up on it, Michaela thought. The two women had been friends since grade school, and even with the passage of time and Chelsie's travels with her husband, they were still as close now as they had been growing up. Jocelyn remained a good friend as well, although her work schedule kept her busy. Chelsie, Michaela, and Jocelyn had been inseparable through high school and had even roomed together their first year of college. Then Jocelyn met Sean and the two had married. Chelsie and Michaela had remained roommates and finished another year of college, then Chelsie had gone on a mission.
Michaela had also considered going on a mission, and if it hadn't been for Ben, she would have. The two of them had dated in high school, and then continued to date after Ben had served his mission in England. The bishop of Michaela's student ward had counseled her to not put a mission before marriage, so she hadn't, although sometimes she wondered how much different her life would be if she had gone.
"I'm just tired," Michaela said. "It's been a busy day."
"Then I'll let you go. But we'll talk again soon, okay?"
Michaela hung up the phone, glad that Chelsie was back. She and Jocelyn were like the sisters she never had. Her two older brothers were great, but it wasn't like having a sister. She couldn't call her brothers and tell them how hard some days were-how difficult it was to take care of the children by herself, how often her prayers were pleas for forgiveness for her resentment toward Ben's clients and the ward members who saw her husband more than her family did. Worst of all was the guilt she felt on those days she wondered if it was all worth it, especially when her husband no longer seemed to have the time or patience to listen to her needs and feelings. He was too burned out from hearing everyone else's problems.
Michaela and Ben had always had a happy, loving relationship. From those first weeks after they'd met, she'd considered him her best friend. He was friendly and outgoing, and people were naturally drawn to him, which was why he was such a success with his job, training other brokers in offices around the country, and also why he was so good in his ward calling, especially with the youth.
But as good as he was doing with everyone else, Michaela had been thinking that she and Ben weren't doing so well. They seemed to drift further and further apart as daily life intruded upon them. They had six children with busy lives, and Michaela had her hands full keeping the home functioning smoothly; Ben had a demanding career, and his church calling took nearly every spare minute that he wasn't traveling.
Michaela knew that divorce wasn't the answer. She and Ben had decided when they'd married that divorce wasn't an option. They were committed to each other, they had made temple covenants and promises to each other, and they would work through their problems together.
Still, she kept picturing how it would be when the children grew up and moved away. She could see Ben and herself as complete strangers. Two people with nothing in common, nothing to say to each other. Two people who didn't even know each other anymore.
And the thought troubled her.
Taking a sheet from the laundry basket, Michaela Reynolds folded it in half as she glanced at the television before her. Although she'd turned it on mostly for company while she folded clothes that evening, she'd become interested in the romantic comedy.
She stopped for a moment to watch as the couple on the screen sailed off into the sunset, their sailboat cutting gracefully through gentle waves, the colors on the horizon blazing red, orange and purple as the sun sank lazily into an azure blue ocean. Romantic music played as the boat grew smaller and smaller.
She hugged the sheet to her chest, and her thoughts drifted away. To feel the fresh ocean breeze . . . the gentle motion of the waves . . . to sail away to an exotic island . . . away from all the cares in the world . . . to be so deeply in love . . .
It seemed so long ago that she and her husband, Ben, had ever been that in love. She wondered what had happened. How had everything changed right under her nose?
"Mom!" The voice of her six-year-old daughter, Jordan, broke into her trance. "Zach has a stinky diaper."
It took a moment for reality to return. Michaela wanted to stay in her daydream, inside the boat, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. And more than anything, she wanted for Ben and her to be like they used to be-putting each other first, doing little thoughtful acts of love for each other, facing life's challenges together, side by side.
"Oh, yuck. It's everywhere!" Jordan yelled again.
This was eighteen-month-old Zachary's fifth day with diarrhea, and it still wasn't getting better. He'd gotten it from his twin brother, Gabriel, who'd had it last week. Michaela wondered if she should take him to the doctor again.
Hurrying into the playroom, she was greeted with the overwhelming stench of a messy diaper and a smiling Zachary, who was standing in a puddle on the carpet that had just been steam cleaned.
"Poo-poo," he said with pride. He lifted one leg and smiled at his mother. Gabriel was playing with a little plastic fire truck and happily running its wheels through the puddle.
Fighting the urge to flee to her bedroom and hide, wishing her husband could be home early just once during the week, Michaela scooped up Zachary, threw a towel over the soiled spot and ran to the bathtub, with Gabriel following close at her heels. She deposited Zach in the tub, where he immediately set to playing with his Sesame Street tub toy, giggling as his mother attempted to remove his soiled clothes and diaper. Gabe whined because he wanted to get in the tub with his brother, but Michaela wouldn't let him.
Jordan, who'd discovered the mess in the first place, poked her head in to see what was going on. "Oooh, stinky. Can I have a fruit snack, Mommy?"
"Sure," Michaela answered. "Hand me that washcloth, sweetie. And get a fruit snack for Gabe, please."
Jordan gave her the washcloth and skipped off to get the snacks. Michaela was grateful that Jordan was such a mellow child because the twins were a handful. Actually, they were two handfuls and completely out of control. One or the other of them was usually into something-either pulling all the books off the bookshelves, dumping boxes of cereal onto the kitchen floor, unloading the cupboards in the bathroom, or drawing on the walls with pens and markers that could always be found, no matter how well Michaela kept them hidden and out of their reach.
She scrubbed Zach with soap and rinsed him off, then pulled him out of the tub. Wrapping him in a towel, she whisked him off to his room to get him diapered and ready for bed. She lived for bedtime. It was the only time she had to herself-when the kids were asleep.
"Mom!" another voice wailed. "You shrunk my jeans!"
Michaela closed her eyes and prayed for strength. Her twelve-year-old daughter, Lauryn, was probably her biggest challenge. Lauryn knew exactly which buttons to push, and she pushed them often. Michaela would rather change five of Zach's dirty diapers than deal with one of Lauryn's emotional outbursts.
Lauryn had reached the age when the acceptance of her peers was more important than anything. She had to have the right clothes, the right hairstyle, the right makeup. Everything had to be perfect or her life was miserable. And when Lauryn's life was miserable, so was everyone else's.
Michaela worried about her twelve-year-old, who already had the body of a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old. Remembering back upon her own youth, Michaela hadn't really grown and matured until the summer after her eighth-grade year. Lauryn's body had matured early, but her emotions and coping skills were still those of a twelve-year-old. Lauryn took after Ben's side of the family with her honey-colored hair, hazel green eyes, and smooth, creamy skin. She was also built like Ben's side of the family, long-legged and tall. All the boys at school seemed to have suddenly taken notice of her, which wasn't helping.
"Honey, I didn't even dry them," Michaela hollered back. "Zach, hold still!" Zach loved to run around without any clothes on, as did his twin brother. The other kids got a kick out of watching them streak naked through the house.
But Michaela was in no mood tonight to chase naked babies around the house or deal with a pair of shrunken jeans. In fact, if these kids didn't get to bed soon, she wouldn't be able to guarantee their safety. She'd had it with all of them!
"Mom!" Lauryn whined. "I wanted to wear those jeans to school tomorrow."
"Go throw them in the washer again, and I'll try to stretch them out for you," Michaela yelled, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into her voice.
"Mom," another voice yelled, this one from her son, Isaac. "I'm running over to Brandon's house to do my math."
She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. "Don't be late."
"I won't," he replied, clearly annoyed. The door slammed and Zach started to cry. He lived to go outside, especially when his big brother was out there.
"Come on, let's get you a bottle," Michaela told Zach, who stopped wailing at the offer and sniffled.
While Lauryn stomped down the hallway to her bedroom and slammed the door shut, Michaela quickly filled two bottles with milk. She really needed to wean the twins, but she was as attached to their bottles as they were. It was the only way she could get the beds made in the morning or dinner made in the evening. At least they'd sit and drink their bottles and watch Barney for half an hour. She laid Zach in his bed with his stuffed dog, Woofy, and grabbed Gabe, who was in the bathroom dipping fruit snacks in the toilet before eating them.
"Gabe, honey," she scolded. "No, no."
"No, no!" he yelled back and ran for the door.
Michaela caught him and carried him kicking and screaming to his room. She laid him in bed with his bottle, and he immediately curled up with his Pooh Bear. Michaela released a weary sigh. Who needed aerobics when she had active twin sons?
From the instant she had brought the twins home, everyone's lives had been drastically altered by their presence in the home. At first, Michaela had hoped to continue teaching piano lessons, but with twins in the house, reality struck her with the force of a Mac truck, and she'd had to tell her twelve students to find another teacher. Not that the twins weren't worth it, but she had loved teaching piano, using her background in music to help young children develop a love for music. At times she missed the fulfillment teaching had provided her. She hoped that someday she would be able to resume teaching, but that day seemed so far away.
"Mommy," Jordan called from the family room. "The carpet's all squooshy and wet."
"What?" Michaela shut the door to the twins' room and went to see what Jordan was talking about.
"The carpet's-"
Walking into the family room, Michaela screamed, scaring Jordan to tears. Sure enough, the carpet was soaked. The water appeared to be coming from the laundry room.
"Lauryn!" Michaela yelled at the top of her lungs, running for the washer. "Jordan, please stop crying." As she opened the lid to the washer, she heard footsteps pounding down the hallway.
"What!" her daughter said with a huff of annoyance.
"Look what you've done!" Michaela demanded, angry tears blurring her vision. The washer was so packed with jeans, towels, and bedding that the agitator couldn't move. Lauryn would have had to jump on the load to pack it in so tightly. Water was spilling out over the top where the washer was trying to fill the tub but couldn't saturate the contents.
Michaela quickly shut off the washer. "Put Jordan to bed," she commanded.
Lauryn opened her mouth to respond but clamped it shut again. Taking one look at her mother's face, she quickly obeyed.
Grabbing dry towels out of the nearest bathroom, Michaela packed the threshold going out of the laundry room to prevent more water from seeping onto the carpet. Inside the laundry room, water slowly emptied through the drain on the floor. She removed some of the items from the washer and then started the cycle over, knowing she would have dozens of towels to wash after she soaked up the water in the family room.
Irritated with herself for not buying the wet/dry vacuum at Costco that she'd wanted, Michaela moved the couch and rocker out of the way and laid towels all along the baseboards. Her husband, Ben, hadn't felt they could afford the vacuum, not with their oldest son, Jared, on a mission in Argentina.
Michaela began stepping on the towels to soak up the water. As soon as one towel was completely wet, she replaced it with another dry towel and continued the process. Sweat formed on her brow as she worked to get the water up as quickly as possible. Right in the middle of the disaster cleanup, the phone rang. She let it ring three times, thinking Lauryn would answer it, but finally on the fourth ring she reached for the phone herself.
"This is Neva Patterson. Is the bishop home?" an elderly voice asked.
"No," Michaela answered breathlessly. "He's at the church."
"Oh, dear," Sister Patterson said. "I need to talk to him right away."
"Why don't you try calling over at the church?" she suggested, with as much patience as she could muster. As often as Sister Patterson called, Michaela thought the woman would know her husband's schedule by now.
"Do you happen to have that number?" the woman asked.
Michaela was up to her eyeballs in soggy towels, and the last thing she felt like doing was playing "information" for ward members. "Just a minute," she said, finding the ward list and giving Sister Patterson the number for their church building.
Somewhat pacified, the older woman hung up and Michaela went back to work.
It wasn't enough that her husband, Ben, worked long hours as a broker training specialist for Hampton & Gibb, which took him out of town three or four times a month. For the last two years he had also been bishop of their ward. Both jobs were so demanding that he was rarely home, and his absence was felt in every aspect of his family's lives. With all the challenges at work and the constant demands from their ward, Michaela and the kids had gradually become used to being shoved onto the back burner. In fact, they'd been placed there so many times, they hardly bothered to include him in their activities anymore; it saved the energy of being disappointed or waiting anxiously for him to show up. They didn't like having him gone, but they'd been forced to adjust.
"What's going on?" It was Isaac, just getting back from his friend's house. He stood at the doorway as Michaela gathered up the last batch of wet towels off the carpet. It wasn't dry by any means, but it was as good as she could get it.
"The washer overflowed," she told him wearily, spraying carpet cleaner on the carpet where Zach had had his accident.
He pulled a face. "Do you need some help?"
She appreciated the offer; Isaac was a pretty thoughtful kid, when he wasn't wrapped up in himself. "I just need to get the fan from the basement and turn it on to help the carpet dry," she said, scrubbing the spot on the carpet until the stain was gone.
"I'll go get it," he offered.
"Thanks," she replied, with an appreciative smile.
She loaded another batch of towels into the washer and folded the batch that came out of the dryer, making sure to pull Lauryn's jeans out and stretch them while they were wet. She didn't want to wake up to another crisis, especially after tonight.
Isaac came upstairs with the fan and plugged it in, angling it toward the wet carpet. Just then the phone rang.
"Can you get it?" Michaela requested. "If it's Sister Patterson, tell her your dad still isn't home." She glanced at her watch and noticed it was almost eleven. Her husband usually got home around ten-thirty or so, but something must have held him up at the church. As usual.
"Mom," Isaac said. "It's for you."
She stuck her head out of the laundry room and mouthed, "Who is it?" to him.
He shrugged and set the phone on the counter. "I'm going to bed," he said.
Michaela pushed the straggly wisps of hair off her face as she walked to the phone. All she wanted to do was go to bed and escape.
"Hello?" she asked, wondering which member of the ward was in urgent need of her husband now.
"Mikki?" a woman's voice said. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
"Yes?" Michaela answered, searching her memory for a name to fit the voice.
"Mikki, this is Chelsie. Chelsie Powell."
"Chelsie! Omigosh, how are you?" Michaela exclaimed, collapsing onto a bar stool. She hadn't talked to Chelsie for months, and had forgotten that she and her husband, Nathaniel, were moving back to town after living in Switzerland. "Where are you?"
"We're finally back, Mikki. I couldn't wait to call so I took a chance you were still up." Chelsie's voice held a mixture of fatigue and excitement. She and her husband had originally planned to stay in Switzerland for two years, but then Nathaniel had a chance to transfer back to the states. Chelsie, homesick for family and friends, had begged him to take it. When Chelsie and Nathaniel had first moved to Switzerland, Michaela remembered thinking how fun and adventurous it sounded to live in a foreign country like that. Chelsie and her husband didn't have children yet, so it was easier for them to move overseas.
"I'm glad you're back," Michaela told her. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," her friend replied. "Have you talked to Jocelyn lately?"
"Not since Christmas. She's so busy with her travel business I hardly see her anymore."
"I can imagine. I tried to call her, too, but she's in San Francisco right now. She'll be home this weekend, and that's partly why I called. We need to get together and go out to dinner so we can catch up on what everyone's been doing."
Michaela didn't tell her friend that her life wasn't worth catching up on, but she was all for having an evening away from home with her friends. "Whatever is good for you and Jocelyn, just let me know," she said, trying to cover a yawn that sneaked up on her. It had been a long day and she was tired, too tired, in fact to shower before going to bed, even though her shirt was uncomfortably damp from her earlier exertions.
"I'll call you back after I talk to her. Hey, are you okay?" Chelsie's voice softened. "You don't sound good."
It was just like Chelsie to pick up on it, Michaela thought. The two women had been friends since grade school, and even with the passage of time and Chelsie's travels with her husband, they were still as close now as they had been growing up. Jocelyn remained a good friend as well, although her work schedule kept her busy. Chelsie, Michaela, and Jocelyn had been inseparable through high school and had even roomed together their first year of college. Then Jocelyn met Sean and the two had married. Chelsie and Michaela had remained roommates and finished another year of college, then Chelsie had gone on a mission.
Michaela had also considered going on a mission, and if it hadn't been for Ben, she would have. The two of them had dated in high school, and then continued to date after Ben had served his mission in England. The bishop of Michaela's student ward had counseled her to not put a mission before marriage, so she hadn't, although sometimes she wondered how much different her life would be if she had gone.
"I'm just tired," Michaela said. "It's been a busy day."
"Then I'll let you go. But we'll talk again soon, okay?"
Michaela hung up the phone, glad that Chelsie was back. She and Jocelyn were like the sisters she never had. Her two older brothers were great, but it wasn't like having a sister. She couldn't call her brothers and tell them how hard some days were-how difficult it was to take care of the children by herself, how often her prayers were pleas for forgiveness for her resentment toward Ben's clients and the ward members who saw her husband more than her family did. Worst of all was the guilt she felt on those days she wondered if it was all worth it, especially when her husband no longer seemed to have the time or patience to listen to her needs and feelings. He was too burned out from hearing everyone else's problems.
Michaela and Ben had always had a happy, loving relationship. From those first weeks after they'd met, she'd considered him her best friend. He was friendly and outgoing, and people were naturally drawn to him, which was why he was such a success with his job, training other brokers in offices around the country, and also why he was so good in his ward calling, especially with the youth.
But as good as he was doing with everyone else, Michaela had been thinking that she and Ben weren't doing so well. They seemed to drift further and further apart as daily life intruded upon them. They had six children with busy lives, and Michaela had her hands full keeping the home functioning smoothly; Ben had a demanding career, and his church calling took nearly every spare minute that he wasn't traveling.
Michaela knew that divorce wasn't the answer. She and Ben had decided when they'd married that divorce wasn't an option. They were committed to each other, they had made temple covenants and promises to each other, and they would work through their problems together.
Still, she kept picturing how it would be when the children grew up and moved away. She could see Ben and herself as complete strangers. Two people with nothing in common, nothing to say to each other. Two people who didn't even know each other anymore.
And the thought troubled her.
