Lambert's Code Page 3

  Meanwhile, Ethan worked his way up in the family business, starting on the production floor at the same pay rate as all the others on the crew. Those were lean years.

  But by now, Ethan wanted to be more financially solvent. At the very least, buy a house. He’d never factored in the cost of conceiving a dream.

  What sparked the idea in Julie to buy a car? She’d been more than happy with her old vehicle until tonight. She’d rather spend money on medical treatments. Last year, they’d had a whopper of an argument over money and the value of their unsuccessful fertility treatments. But tonight, she had a different look in her eyes.

  He checked the mantel clock. Eleven thirty. He’d been home for over two hours, and as on most nights, he sat up in the living room while she read upstairs and fell asleep with the light on. They were in the same place but definitely apart.

  The urge hit him to run up to his wife, his best friend, and wrap her in his arms, promising that everything would be all right. He’d done that after their first newlywed arguments, though lately. . . He wondered when resisting became so simple.

  Ethan pointed the remote control at the plasma screen and upped the volume. He felt exhausted from the emotional turmoil. Trying to have a baby was one thing, difficult and disappointing. But losing touch with his wife burdened him. He slumped down in his lounge chair, closed his eyes, and listened to the noise.

  ❧

  Julie drew the down comforter up to her chin, the resonance of television laughter bouncing up the stairs. Emotionally drained, she tried to pray, knowing she needed the Lord’s comfort. But her thoughts twisted around Ethan and how she wanted him to come to bed. She ached to snuggle next to him and bury her face in his chest. Her heart longed to hear him promise everything would be all right.

  When did they stop talking face-to-face? Were they the same two people who sat up all night in her family’s basement game room, talking? The two who bought cell phones with anytime minutes the moment they could afford them?

  She should confess Dr. Patterson’s conclusions. Yet if he wanted to know, if he cared, he would have made it to the medical center. Fifteen minutes. All he needed to surrender was fifteen minutes. Her disappointment over his lack of interest only made her barrenness more pronounced.

  “Lord,” Julie cried out in the darkness, “I can’t go on like this.”

  Burrowing under the covers, she sobbed until her soul released its burden.

  Sleep eluded her, and the longer Ethan stayed downstairs in front of the TV, the more her sorrow turned to anger.

  She went to the bathroom to blow her nose. All he cares about is sports and winning a basketball trophy. She crawled back into bed with a burning in her middle.

  “Lord, do something with him.” She rolled over on her side, determined to think of something else—like a new car.

  I need a new car. My old broken-down heap is on its last leg. She felt sure her parents would prefer she drove a reliable car over paying back their loan.

  When Ethan tiptoed upstairs and slid into bed, Julie remained awake, her back to him.

  The bed gave way to his long, lean frame as he adjusted the sheets and blankets to suit him. She wondered if he would reach for her, as so many times in the past when things weren’t right between them.

  When they first married, they agreed never to go to bed angry or discontent. Many a quarrel had been resolved on this very bed. Remembering caused familiar feelings to stir in her heart. When did they first bend the rule? Had they broken it completely?

  To Julie, life itself felt broken.

  Ethan, if you reach for me, I’ll respond. Despite her anger, she yearned for his touch. She craved his kisses on her hair, her face, and her lips. She wanted to lose herself in his safe embrace.

  Making up her mind, Julie inched toward the center of the bed and lightly touched her husband’s back with her fingertips. He did not stir. The soft sound of his breathing filled the air around them.

  Julie moved back to her side of the bed. How can you fall asleep so fast, Ethan?

  She tried to sleep but couldn’t. Images of her future loomed before her, blank and void, without the melody of children’s laughter, without porcelain faces molded with her eyes and his nose.

  Long into the night, Julie finally fell into a fitful sleep.

  Four

  In a sleepy stupor, Ethan slapped the alarm button and rolled out of bed. He showered and dressed, then checked his data assistant for the day’s action items while slipping his keys and wallet into his pockets. He clipped on his cell phone and tied on his shoes.

  “Julie,” he called. He caught her made-up side of the bed in his peripheral vision. If he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if she’d slept next to him at all.

  But he remembered how warm the bed felt when he climbed in a little after midnight. He’d wanted to reach for her but didn’t, considering her mood when she went to bed. Besides, she seemed to sleep so peacefully.

  “Babe, I thought we’d grab a little breakfast on our way in this morning. I can drop you off at school afterwards.” Ethan leaned out the bedroom door, fastening on his watch, his ear tuned to the sounds of the house. Silence. He sniffed. No coffee.

  “Jules?” Ethan ambled downstairs. “Julie?” Did she leave already? Her carton of beef and broccoli from last night remained on the living room floor. But her school papers were gone.

  With a shake of his head, Ethan tossed the leftovers in the garbage. Back in the den, he found a note from Julie tacked to his new trophy.

  Ethan, Sophia came by for me. We’d planned to have coffee at Peri’s anyway. Julie

  Ethan crumpled the note, juxtaposed between ire and relief. He wished she’d told him she was leaving, but hopefully today would be better than yesterday.

  He sat down in his desk chair. “Lord, we’re in a rough patch, aren’t we? Give us grace. Give me grace.”

  A thought flashed through his mind. What about a nice romantic dinner at Italian Hills? Hmm? Good idea, Lord.

  Candlelight? Soft music? Julie would love it. She could forget about her cares in the peaceful ambiance and enjoy fine cuisine. Ethan made a mental note to secure a reservation for six o’clock.

  Snapping up his cell, he dialed the familiar number of his grandpa and grandma Lambert.

  “Hello?” The soothing voice of the Lambert patriarch eased down the line.

  “Grandpa, it’s Ethan.” He cradled the phone on his shoulder as he packed up his laptop.

  “How’s my favorite grandson?”

  “Is it my week to be your favorite?”

  Grandpa chuckled. “It is if you’re inviting me to breakfast.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Why else would you be calling me so early?”

  “All right, if you know so much, what’s Sam’s special today?” He hooked his laptop bag on his shoulder and reached for the trophy.

  “All-you-can-eat pancakes with a side of bacon and eggs.”

  “Guess I’m buying then.” With a chuckle, Ethan grabbed his coat from the closet.

  “I’m the retired old guy. Of course you’re buying.”

  “Deal,” Ethan said, locking the front door behind him. “See you at the diner.”

  Hopping into his Honda sedan, Ethan shifted into gear and backed out of his parking slot, pausing to look through his cell phone contact list. If Julie liked driving a stick shift, he would trade cars with her. But she’d contended she liked her automatic, albeit dilapidated, car.

  He pressed Talk when the screen flashed Mel Brothers’ Towing.

  ❧

  “If you ask me, he’s an insensitive clod,” Sophia said with conviction before sipping from her grandé caramel coffee topped with whipped cream.

  Julie tore at her napkin. “He didn’t know.”

  As disappointed as she was in Ethan, Julie defended her husband. She blamed herself for Sophia’s skewed perception. She’d painted a bad picture of him lately, and she resolved to change that im
age.

  “You should have told him then.” Sophia waved her long, manicured finger in the air.

  Julie swirled her latte. “I couldn’t form the words. Then, all of a sudden, I wanted a new car, so we argued over that.”

  “Girl, you need a new car.”

  “I know, but—” She stared out the coffee shop window and wished she was sitting with Ethan instead of her acerbic friend.

  “If you ask me, he’d rather play sports than raise a child anyway.”

  “Sophia, stop. That’s not true.”

  “Seems to me he’s always finding some jock thing to do.”

  Julie pressed her fingers to her temples. “Can we please change the subject?”

  “To what? My dateless life? There are no good men, I tell you, none.”

  Oh, but there are good men. Ethan. “You’re just not looking in the right places.”

  “Where shall I look? Church?” Sophia rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat.

  Julie jabbed her in the arm. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

  Sophia immediately changed the topic and launched into the latest politics of White Birch Elementary School and the status of the new building budget. “By this time next year, we should have a dozen new classrooms.”

  Julie sipped her coffee. “Do you think I’ll get that new music room?”

  “It’s in the plan.” Sophia winked with a nod.

  “Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  “Yes, but don’t hold your breath. Until they hand you the classroom key, anything is possible.”

  Julie sighed. “So true.”

  “Speaking of teaching—” Sophia pointed to her watch. “We’d better get going.”

  “Is it that late already?”

  Sitting in the passenger seat of Sophia’s SUV, Julie watched the town of White Birch slide past her view. Her heart leaped when she saw Ethan step out of his silver Honda.

  Ethan! Hi. He looked handsome. She loved the way his coat hung straight from his square shoulders and how his slightly gelled brown waves glistened in the morning light.

  She jerked her purse onto her lap and dug for her cell phone. Did he get my note? Did I miss his call?

  After a second, she tossed her cell back into her purse.

  “He didn’t call?” Sophia asked in a low tone.

  “No.”

  “Clod.”

  “Stop, Sophia. He’s not a clod.”

  “OK, cad.”

  “Stop.”

  ❧

  “So the inspectors are bothering you,” Grandpa said, cutting his pancakes in long strips and loading them up with butter and syrup.

  “Does Grandma know you eat like this?” Ethan motioned with his fork at the syrup and buttered pancakes.

  Grandpa smirked. “What, you think I’d do this behind her back?”

  Ethan laughed. “She’d find out for sure, knowing this town.”

  “I imagine you’re right.”

  “If you had a coronary, I was worried I’d have to out you. But if she knows—”

  Grandpa speared his first bite. “I told her on my way to meet you, ‘I’m having Sam’s pancakes.’ ”

  Ethan squirted ketchup on his pile of scrambled eggs. “Those inspectors are about to give me a coronary.”

  “Just oblige them, son. It will make life easier.”

  “You’d think in this day and age a man would never hear the words ‘in triplicate,’ but it’s standard op for those guys.”

  “Your dad struggled with them until he retired.”

  Ethan spread a thin coat of jam on his unbuttered wheat toast. “Yeah, when I asked him about it, he laughed.”

  “Might just be why he retired early.”

  “That or Mom getting on his case about working so hard.” Growing up, Ethan often overheard his parents discussing his father’s devotion to the business. Many times, his mother reasoned for more time at home and family vacations. His father talked about responsibility, loyalty, and hard work.

  It was his father who masterminded the production process Ethan now managed. The implementation of his ideas rocketed Grandpa’s small furniture business into a multimillion-dollar furniture factory.

  Grandpa sipped his coffee. “He and your mom are having fun with their little tax business. Your dad always was good with numbers.”

  “It’s a great second career for him. Keeps them busy in the winter so they can vacation the rest of the year.”

  The waitress came over with a coffeepot in each hand. “Heat up your coffee, Matt?”

  Grandpa lifted his cup to her. “Janet, you’ve waited on me for over ten years. You know the answer.”

  “Sam makes me ask.” She winked at the older man. “How about you, Ethan?”

  “Decaf.”

  Janet poured from the orange-lipped pot in her left hand. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Grandpa held up his fork. “I’ll have another round of pancakes.”

  Ethan glanced up at Janet. “He tells me Grandma knows about his eating habits.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure she does. I’ll put in the order.”

  Grandpa sat back and patted his flat belly. “Your grandma knows everything I do. It’s our code.”

  Ethan furrowed his brow. “Your code?”

  “Lambert’s Code. I’ll tell you about it some time. You’re ’bout due, I think.”

  “I’ve never heard of Lambert’s Code.”

  “It’s one of the marriage rules your grandma and I live by. Just might help you and Julie along the way.”

  Ethan bent over his breakfast wondering if Grandpa could read the concern of his soul through his eyes. He’d never heard of Lambert’s Code, but if it helped Grandpa’s marriage to Grandma, he wanted to know.

  “Want to tell me about it, Ethan?” grandpa interrupted his thoughts.

  Ethan looked up. He regarded his grandpa’s lean face, the one that had seen a great war, the one that had built a great business, and the one that knew great love. “Not sure I can put words to it.”

  “Work or home?”

  “Home.” The sole word spoke volumes.

  Grandpa nodded, understanding without a word.

  Ethan set his fork down and gazed out the diner window. The White Birch horizon promised sunshine. “We’re snapping at each other, miscommunicating. We don’t connect anymore.”

  “Consider the last few years, trying to start a family. Doctor visits, medical expenses, going to school, launching your careers. It’s a lot to bear, Ethan.”

  Ethan’s eyes burned for the first time in a long, long time. “I guess you’re right. So tell me about this code you and Grandma invented.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you—”

  “Excuse me.”

  Ethan glanced up to see Dr. Patterson standing by the table, his hand extended.

  “Dr. Patterson, good to see you.” Ethan shook his hand.

  The gentlemanly doctor greeted Grandpa Matt, then asked Ethan, “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

  Grandpa scooted out of the booth. “I think I’ll find Sam and compliment his pancakes.”

  Dr. Patterson slid into his place. “I just wanted to remind you, these things are always hard.”

  Ethan rubbed his chin. “What things?” He didn’t like the way the light faded from the good doctor’s face.

  “Did you talk to your wife yesterday?”

  “Yes.” Sort of.

  Dr. Patterson regarded Ethan for a second. He started to say something when Grandpa returned.

  “Janet’s about to bring out my cakes. Is it safe?”

  Dr. Patterson laughed and gave Grandpa his seat back. “I never get between a man and his breakfast.”

  “You’re a good man, Casey.”

  Ethan felt unnerved, unsure what had prompted this odd, private conversation.

  Dr. Patterson rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “Ethan, why don’t you stop by my office at twelve thirty?”

  He nodded. �
�Okay.”

  “Nice to see you, Matt. Give my best to Betty.”

  Grandpa shook his hand. “Will do.”

  Ethan watched him leave, a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  Five

  “All right, class, settle down.” Julie walked the breadth of the music room, passing out the graded short essays to her sixth graders. “Overall, very good work. May I suggest a review of your grammar rules?”

  A collective moan filled the room. Julie laughed. Groaners. She taught a bunch of groaners. They groaned when she told them to practice, groaned when she gave them assignments. Yet despite the groans, she cared deeply for each of them.

  She was about to move on to the day’s music lesson when her classroom door opened and Ethan filled the doorway.

  “Can I see you outside?” Only his lips moved; his jaw remained tight.

  In the hall, Ethan did not greet her with a kiss or hello. “Were you planning on telling me that we can’t have kids, or were you going to wait ’til we’re fifty and say, ‘Oh, by the by, Ethan, on that kid thing? Never gonna happen.’ ” He popped the wall with his fist.

  A chill ran down Julie’s back. “How did you find out?”

  “Dr. Patterson, who else?”

  “What? How?”

  “I ran into him at the diner this morning. By the way, I wanted to take you to breakfast.”

  “How was I supposed to know?” Julie modulated her voice. Her words felt hard and brittle. “You could have told me you wanted to have breakfast.”

  Ethan stood right in front of her. “You could have told me, too, about the test results.”

  She focused on her shoes. “I couldn’t find the words.”

  “Couldn’t find the words? I’m your husband. Remember me, Jules, the man you vowed to cherish your whole life?”

  She jerked her head up, eyes intent on Ethan. “Yes, and remember me, the woman you vowed to cherish your whole life?”

  Ethan stood back, arms akimbo. “What are you saying? I don’t cherish you?”

  “I think I have stiff competition.” There, she said it.

  “Competition? With whom?” Ethan spread his arms, defensive, inviting conflict.

  “Not whom. What.” Julie counted off on her fingers. “Basketball, golf, football, racquetball, ice hockey. If it rolls, slides, bounces, or spirals, you give attention to it.”