Chapter 35 - A Small Home

My friend Dawn and her husband offer to care for Nick for a few weeks until I decide where to live. Mom Smith has muscular dystrophy, and Dad works full-time, so they are unable to watch him alone. They are grieved over Zachary’s decision. Mom prays for us often, but they don’t know how to help Zach and me. We hug good-bye with tears.

I hold Nick tight before handing him over to Dawn. “I’ll come and get him as soon as I can, I tell her.

“We’ll take good care of Nicky. Call whenever you can…tell us how you’re doing, OK? The Smiths are going to help also.”

Zach and I head out of Phoenix in the little gold Maverick and are quiet most of the way. I consider where I might settle, praying silently. It is the beginning of August, and my parents won’t be home on furlough until early summer of the following year. I could live near Romaine in the Chicago area where she has a nursing job. Or near Grandma and Grandpa Hofer in St. Paul, who could help with Nick—or try to get my nursing job back in Fosston, and live near Leota and Bonnie, until Mom and Dad arrive in the States.

One night we stay in pine scented Woodland Park, Colorado. Driving on, the next night we’re somewhere in Kansas, in a nondescript motel.

Lying next to Zack, I am amazed and wondering. This is our last night together. Three years of dating, almost five years of marriage--and this is our final night in the same bed. My emotions are numb with grief. I can’t absorb this truth…I fall asleep.

By afternoon of the next day, we are near Chicago. We find Romaine’s apartment, and I hug her long, wordlessly. Ro still has her long, golden hair, but doesn’t wear glasses—she has contacts, and looks beautiful. We take Zach to the bus station where he will ride north to St. Paul, where his Bronco is parked at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

“Where are you going to live?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers. I suppose where I find work. In the Twin Cities, or up north. I’ll keep in touch.” He kisses me lightly. “Bye,” he waves to Romaine and me, carrying his suitcase and bag.

It all seems unreal. Is this really Zach? He has turned into someone I don’t know.

Romaine is deeply sympathetic. “God’s going to take care of you, Marti. It’s going to be OK.”

We spend the next couple of days visiting, and I get reacquainted with Jim Webber, Ro’s fiancée, a former missionary kid from Dalat High School. They are to be married next December at the church Jim’s parents pastor. I am so happy for Romaine…but the Chicago area does not seem like the place to live. I need familiarity of location since I’m going through so many other changes.

Grandma and Grandpa in St. Paul welcome me gladly. Zach stopped by as he travelled north, they inform me. They are deeply saddened over the separation and try to comfort. I consider living in St. Paul, but the puzzle pieces don’t seem to fit.

So I drive on north to Bagley, stay with Leota and Josh….and they tell me of a small house I can rent from them. “It was my parents’ home when they were living,” Lee explains. “It’s on the edge of town, with pines around the yard.”

We look at it the next day. Painted white with green trim, the little two-bedroom cottage looks inviting, with a large yard, and a red currant tree in front of the kitchen window. The living room is carpeted a warm gold, and the kitchen has room for a table and chairs. I like it!

“Could I paint the bedrooms, maybe wallpaper the bath?”

“Sure,” Lee smiles. “You can make it as cozy as you like!”

Driving west to Fosston Hospital I find I can resume my former charge nurse position, working three evenings a week. Since Josh and Leota are renting to me cheaply, I can work part time if I’m frugal. Zach has sold our big Harley to pay bills and has offered to make my car payment and insurance. God is making a way for me.

I hear that Zach has gone back to Myra again. I can accept this mentally, but emotionally it is unabsorbable. He’s still my husband! How can the ex-minister live with his mistress in the hamlet where he pastored? Has he no fear of God?

Leota organizes a moving day where she, Bonnie and others will pack and carry my belongings over from the parsonage. I dread going to the remodeled farmhouse where we had once been happy. On moving day I’m in the little new house to receive furniture and boxes…later we all gather for dinner at Lee’s home. Amazingly, Zachary comes for dinner also, having moved out his part of the belongings. He is cheerful, genial, seemingly untouched by this splitting of our lives. Leota is kind to him. “He really doesn’t know what he’s doing, Marti,” she says.

In the next couple of weeks, I settle in and start shifts at the hospital. I paint my bedroom a soft pink, and Nick’s light blue. Bonnie’s friend Larry helps me hang bookshelves on the long wall of the living room, and I find a shimmery gold couch from a used furniture store. Old-fashioned lamps cast a warm glow, and pictures on the wall make me feel welcome. One framed print is of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. It reminds me that Jesus is my Husband here.

I have been talking to Dawn Benson on the phone, and Nick is doing well, she says. He’s had a few stitches on his cheek after falling from a swing, but it is healing. I am lonely for him, praying for money to fly and pick him up. Living paycheck to paycheck it’s hard to save much…should I ask the Smith’s for money? I have no way to contact Zach, and I certainly don’t want to go to Myra’s house.

On Sundays I attend Ebro church where an older man named Clyde is now pastor. He is quiet, kind, and being of Ojibwe descent, fits into the community well. I share my prayer request for flight money one Sunday, and a family who farm nearby come to me after the service.

“We received some tax return money lately,” the man informs me. “We want to give the tithe to you, so you can bring your son home."

I am overwhelmed. “Thank you so much!” I choke out. “This is such an answer to my prayers!”

In about a week I have several days off so I can drive to the Twin Cities, fly to Phoenix, pick up Nick, and fly home. I visit with Mom and Dad Smith, they drive me to pick up Nicky. It’s been a month, and he doesn’t recognize me. He is calling Dawn “Mama.” Hugging him close, I overflow with gratefulness to Dave and Dawn. “How can I thank you enough! I’m going to send you money later.”

“We were glad to do it,” Dawn answers. “We’ll be praying for you all.”