Roses in Autumn by Donna Fletcher Crow Page B

and think about it. Work on it in your mind. Try to get comfortable with the idea.”
    “And what about Tom?”
    “I was hoping you’d ask that. Your concern for your husband’s happiness is very refreshing. Most people come in here asking, how can I be happier? What can I do to get more fulfillment for me? Of course, it works together—in a marriage the more satisfied one partner is the more satisfied the other will be too.”
    “Like what you were saying about one flesh?”
    “Precisely. Try to go back to being friends with your husband before you attempt to be lovers.”
    “Yes. That’s exactly how it used to be. Tom and I were best friends. That’s what I miss so much since—since all this trouble. I’ve lost my best friend.”
    Kyle nodded. “You have to start all over on your relationship. You didn’t jump into bed on your first date. Don’t rush things now.”
    “Oh!” Laura leaned back in her chair and threw her hands up, the internal pressure escaping as if from a balloon. “Oh, it’s like the first day of summer vacation.”
    “Good, that’s just what we want. Nice and easy.” He opened his desk book. “Now, I’ll see you again in a week.”
    “A week? Oh, didn’t I explain? We’re only here for another week and a half. Can’t I come back sooner?”
    He scanned his appointments. “How about two days —Thursday morning?”
    “That’s perfect. Thank you so much—for everything!” Laura could never have imagined that losing an argument could be so liberating.
    In her let-out-of-school spirit she chose to run down the two flights of stairs from Dr. Larsen’s office rather than take the elevator. She had so much to think about. She had glimpsed a whole new world. A world ruled by a smiling, approving God. Not a thin, scowling old man holding her on a spider’s web over a smoking pit hoping the filament would break. This was a whole new God. A God who created sunshine and blue skies and fields of flowers for His children to play in.
    “I always feel God is watching me,” she had said.
    “Yes, He is,” Kyle replied. “He’s watching, and He approves.”
    “Even in bed?” It had been so hard to ask that question, to refer to the forbidden fruit in the light of day.
    But Kyle had smiled at her kindly. “Especially in bed, because you’re being obedient to His plan for you and your marriage.”
    Laura knew Kyle was right in cautioning her to go slow. It would take a long time for her subconscious to accept what her brain was saying, and then longer for her body to respond. But she had started. She had taken a step toward building a whole new structure—not just clamping down another grip on the situation with determination and willpower and clenched teeth.
    This was unclenching, a letting go and relaxing. If she could really accept that God wasn’t condemning her, she could quit condemning herself.
    Oh, Tom, I can’t wait to tell you—to start our journey back to friendship! To Laura’s ecstatic vision the many-globed Victorian streetlights began to glow like iridescent opal balloons, and the baskets of trailing blossoms hanging from each lamppost nodded to her with joy.
    She rounded a corner and there, leaning against one of the flower-draped lamps, was Tom, waiting for her just where he said he’d be. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits. She felt as if she were running to him through a flower-strewn meadow, although in reality she somehow managed to keep both feet on the sidewalk—except for one tiny skip to match her heartbeat.
    Tom stepped forward with his hands held out to meet hers, their eyes and smiles locking as warmly as their fingers. They strolled down the flower-hung street, hardly noticing the appealing shop windows or other passersby. There was so much she wanted to tell Tom, but it seemed she didn’t need to. It was as if he read it all in her expression and found his own freedom in hers. Their steps hadn’t matched so perfectly