Page 78 of The Marriage Game

“She saw you fighting two times?” Hannah is surprised.

“Maybe,” Max hedges.

Hannah shakes her head then, with the air of someone explaining something hard to a small child, says, “Well that was also unplanned, although no offense, Max, but it’s not too surprising…you guys have been fighting quite a bit lately.”

And apparently not hiding it as well as we thought.

“Fair point,” Max concedes, looking as abashed as I feel. “Look, Hannah, I appreciate what you were trying to do here, but it really doesn’t sit well with me that you gave up something that clearly meant a lot to you. Take back the prize—get some free counseling sessions from Dorothy. There’s still tonight, and then a full day left of the retreat, after all.”

“See, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you in the first place.” Hannah sighs, and crosses her arms across her chest. “You know, Max, I know that Jesus said it is more blessed to give than it is to receive, but my goodness, if you’re always giving, how can others have the blessing of givingtoyou? Even Jesus—the ultimate servant king—let Mary Magdalene wash his feet, Max. He let Zaccheus feed Him. Simon of Cyrene helped Him carry the cross because He literally collapsed under the weight of it.” I can hear the threads of deep emotion in Hannah’s voice as she appeals to him, and my own throat grows thick with matching sentiment. Hannah and Brooke are my little sisters, I’m not supposed to need their help. But from what she’s saying it hurts her that I don’t—same as with Max. The kingdom I built of my own strength is looking more and more like a lonely, wretched place.

“Which means, Max,” she continues on, “that on His way to performing the greatest act of love in history, Jesus also knocked down the idol of self-sufficiency, demonstrating once and for all that none of us can do this life alone. Nor were we ever meant to.” Hannah looks Max square in the eye. “So I expect you and Jill to meet Dorothy for breakfast in the morning. That was going to be one of our session times before we gave her free services away to you.” She tosses her head. “Be there or explain to Jesus why you think your way is better than His.” With that weighty statement she swivels on her heels and heads down the hall.

Silence descends. I don’t quite know how I feel. It’s hard when there are so many thoughts and emotions circling around in my head, each one insisting I pay it the most attention. At a loss, I tilt my head up to the heavens. Like a sudden gust of wind that leaves stillness in its wake, there’s a stirring in my soul that quiets all but one voice: His.

Repent…No buts.

Chapter 29

Max

EvenasIclosethe door behind Hannah her words stick with me, haunting me. I’m not the one who struggles with self-sufficiency. Jill is. My problem is that I’ve been working too much. I’ve come to terms with that. I need to cut back. Be more present both for Jill and the kids.

The self-sufficiency thing is way off.

Jill steps out of the bathroom. She looks as stunned as I feel.

“Could you hear all of that?” I ask wearily. She nods.

I expect her to make some sort of indignant comment about Hannah’s interference, but instead she pulls her shoulders back and sucks in a breath before blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I echo, taken aback. “For what?”

“So many things!” she cries, cheeks pink, one eye twitching slightly—a Jill stress tell. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I wanted you to work less. I’m sorry that instead of coming right out and telling you that I didn’t want you to run for attorney general I entertained a wild sabotage scheme and also vented to my sisters about your lack of communication when I was justas guilty of poor communication.” She sucks in a breath, then meets my gaze. Her eye is no longer twitching. “But most of all I’m sorry that I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t need you.” Jill moves toward me, slipping her hand in mine. “I do need you, Max. You’re not a necklace or a purse or any other accessory that I could just remove and still have a complete outfit. You’re a coat in December, a hair tie when I’m stuck outside in July,” she flutters her eyelashes as she concludes, “you’re mascara all year-round.”

I smile. Jill has this weird thing about never going out in public without mascara because she has blonde lashes. She’s always calling mascara an essential, something she couldn’t make do without. I think her lashes are perfect as they are, delicate and soft, but there are some things you just can’t convince a woman of. Either way, her meaning isn’t lost on me: I’m essential. Someone she couldn’t make do without.

Jill shakes her head with a self-conscious laugh. “Wow, that really didn’t sound as romantic or sweet as I thought it would. Although in my defense, you started the clothing metaphor.”

I chuckle, deep affection for her running through me like a rushing river. “It was accessories, not clothing,” I tell her playfully.

“I guess I embellished your metaphor then,” she says. “When I actually use them, rather than sulking silently, I am quite good with words, you know.”

“I do know.” I grin. “And I also know that you don’t just embellish metaphors. You embellish my life.” I tug her by the hand still in mine, pulling her flush against me. “And I forgive you for all of those things.” I reach up my free hand and brush her hair back behind her ear just so I can feel its softness. “I need to apologize too,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I’ve been working so much and that I didn’t ask you about running for attorney general. That was inexcusable. Reprehensible even. As much as I didn’twant to admit it at the time, I knew that I was doing the wrong thing by not asking for your input.”

“So why didn’t you?” she asks softly.

The question, though not unexpected, gives me pause. “I don’t really know,” I begin, raking a hand harshly through my hair. “I guess because I wanted to run.”

“And what— you knew I would say that I didn’t want you to?” she presses, looking confused. “Because you certainly seemed surprised to find out that I felt that way.”

“No, I didn’t know that you wouldn’t want me to run. On the contrary, I assumed youwouldwant me to. After all, me being in political office has always been what sets our family apart. My successes give our family significance in the community. I know that’s important to you. I wanted you to be as proud of the present day me as you were of the version of me that you married. You had expectations for me when we got married, and I needed to live up to them.”

“What?” Jill is aghast. “You think I had expectations of you when we got married?”

“Of course. You once said as much to your family.” I pitch my voice higher in my rendition of the words I overheard her say so many years ago. “Max is going to do great things.”

“Okay, first off, that is not what my voice sounds like, and second, I literally have no recollection of ever saying that.”

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