Chapter 44

Toni

It was six PM on Friday, and 'Berto was standing by the door with a bag at his feet. She was three feet away, tears in her eyes and – she could feel them – on her cheeks. His own cheeks were shiny where tears had trickled down. It was time for him to go to the motel – he'd picked up the key earlier in the day – and she was already lonely. "I'm going to miss you, my lord ... my beloved."

"I'll miss you too, Toni. But this is the right thing to do."

"I know it is. I've known it since you brought it up. I'm glad you thought of it. But that doesn't make it easier."

"No, it doesn't."

"I wish I could make it easier."

"I know, Toni. I do too. But neither of us can."

She then broke a resolution she'd made. She stepped toward him, wrapped herself around him, and let herself cry unreservedly. It wasn't a storm, there were no wracking sobs, but her tears flowed freely. She felt 'Berto holding her tightly, felt herself responding, knew that he was responding too from the way he held himself – and extricated herself. "We can't let ourselves weaken, my lord," she said. "We have to do this."

"I know. I know, my lady." He took her face in his hands, and kissed her, and then convulsively picked up his bag and darted out the door. She stood there till she heard the engine start in his car, and then stepped out onto the stoop, watching him drive away. Then she stepped inside, closed and locked the door, and sat on her end of the sofa. Her Bible was there, alone. She'd gotten used to seeing 'Berto's there alongside hers over the past two weeks, but now there was only hers. His was black, slim, small – what seemed to her to be a man's Bible, though that was merely her own notion; she'd seen men carrying Bibles of varying sizes and colors. Her own was big, a single column edition with the references along the sides of the page. She picked it up and opened it to the presentation page. She saw there what she already knew – her parents had given it to her on her 21^st birthday.

She ran her hand over the page. I love you, Mamá and Papá, she said in her mind, using the Spanish words even in her English thoughts. She knew they didn't hear, but it was something her heart couldn't restrain. And then she turned to Someone higher. Lord God Almighty, you've given me wonderful parents. You've given me life, and new life, and renewed joy. And you've given me a marvelous man to be my husband. Guide him tonight. Show him what You wish him to know. Help him, from tomorrow, to be the husband to me that you want him to be. And help me, through my prayer and study tonight, to be the wife you've called me to be.

She knew where she'd spend most of her time tonight, before she tried to sleep. But first she turned to the Song of Solomon. I may not be a Shulammite, and 'Berto may not be Solomon. But I know he loves me. And even if he doesn't use this kind of language, I know he feels it.

But there was more to the Song than a husband's gushing descriptions of his wife. She turned pages, scanning the verses. "My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, /Outstanding among ten thousand." Perhaps no one else would think 'Berto handsome, but to her he truly was outstanding above all others.

"I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine." Yes, we belong to each other. He is my beloved, and I am his, and there is no greater joy on earth for either of us.

She closed the Bible, her finger holding her place in the sixth chapter of the book. Lord God, thank you for giving me my beloved. Thank you for giving me to him. Thank you for causing us to love each other, to see each other as the Song teaches us to. Her tears were flowing again, but now they weren't tears of sadness at their temporary separation, but tears of joy for the love God had given them. If it weren't for you, my Lord, I would not know my lord and the joy he has given me. She knew God would be able to untangle who she meant with which pronoun. Next to knowing you, oh God, knowing 'Berto is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

But she had to turn to her chosen area of study. She withdrew her finger and turned to the New Testament. She located the book of Ephesians, and wondered whether 'Berto would also look here. She'd talked to him about the Bible's teaching regarding husbands and wives, and this had been one of the passages she'd showed him. He'd paid close attention to it, noting – as some men she'd known didn't want to do – how it put serious injunctions on husbands as well as on wives. But what the Scripture said here to husbands wasn't what she needed to examine tonight. I'm going to be a wife. I want to be a godly wife. And so I'll study what it means to be a godly wife, and let God lead 'Berto in the way he should go.

She found the verse she was looking for, where Paul instructs wives to submit to their husbands. But she didn't begin reading, not yet. She laid the open Bible on the coffee table, and folded her hands together. Then she reconsidered, and slipped off the sofa onto her knees. And for the first time since she'd gone to bed with Garry, she prayed aloud. "God, let your Spirit teach me. I want to be a godly wife, no matter what sort of husband 'Berto proves to be. I believe that he will be a good husband, a godly husband. But even if he is a neglectful, or abusive, or adulterous husband, teach me to be a godly wife, a wife who will love him, who will cherish him, who will be to him the wife you have called me to be. Please, God, teach me to be a godly wife."

And then she got up and sat on the sofa again, and picked up her Bible, and began reading.

'Berto

Roberto had indeed turned to the fifth chapter of Ephesians. He remembered Toni showing it to him, and reading it with him. She hadn't offered any commentary, but had simply read it with him, and then looked at him with that serene loving look that always had the power to enthrall him. He'd never forgotten that, and now he turned the pages and found the place, and began reading aloud: "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church ... So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it ... each individual among you also is to love his own wife even as himself..."