FIRST PLACE IN THE HEART

FIRST PLACE IN THE HEART
Tuesday, April 9, 2024 by Linda Wood Rondeau

Categories: devotional / TUESDAY'S TREASURE

A Short Story

How a man’s car be his mistress

First published 2008 / VISTA / Wesleyan Publishing House

Jack flung the pilot case containing his pajamas, a change of clothes, and a few toiletries into a corner. Exhausted from an evening of heated arguments, he flopped to the bed. He stared at the ceiling, straining to clarify the cloudy images twirling through his recollections. How did it come to this?

He sighed as he scanned his life with Cheryl. He thought theirs was a good marriage. At least they were happy until he bought The BMW Alpina Roadster V8™. Why didn’t he see Cheryl’s misery? Had he been too busy? Was it possible he just didn’t want to see the signs?

Jack had dreamed of owning a German car since he was eight. He had predicted he’d buy one every year as he thumbed through Dave’s Auto Sales annual calendar. October usually featured a Beemer. “Someday, I’ll be rich enough to own a car like that.”

“I don’t need a fancy car, Jack. I’m happy with just a plain blue sedan. You and Eric are all I need.” Cheryl had always been the practical one.

They were married the weekend of college graduation. A year later, Eric was born. Even from early childhood, Eric was an achiever, excelling in his academics as well as in sports. But the boy’s dream was to be a doctor. Jack wanted more than anything to see Eric presented with a medical degree. He wanted Eric to attend Harvard or Yale—only the best.

Cheryl tried to tell him that if God wanted Eric to be a doctor, He would provide the right school. “All well and good, Cheryl, but we could still do our part.”

I should have listened to her—prayed about it, Jack thought in retrospect. Instead, he had emptied the small savings account he and Cheryl scraped together, quit his job as a data analyst, and started his own computer business. Cheryl thought he should have begun slowly, perhaps as a side business. Jack, on the other hand, insisted that success would be dependent upon diverting every resource to the cause. As he launched his business, he said a quick prayer promising to give 20 percent of his net profit to charity if God helped his business succeed. After a rocky first year, money began flowing like lava.

Determined to succeed, Jack had worked long into the nights and weekends. He had remodeled the basement into an office. Cheryl had objected when he put in the stove, refrigerator, and couch. “I never see you anymore Jack. Seems like you could at least emerge for supper once in a while!”

He had consoled Cheryl with the promise that he would slow down once Eric’s college fund was assured. Jack was astounded that the goal was easily reached within two years.

He knew Cheryl was right. Why didn’t he listen? Was it because of the dreams—the visions of driving a convertible on the open highway with Cheryl by his side? With Eric’s education goal met Jack had believed himself to be deserving of the car he always wanted. How could it be wrong if he could afford it? When the calendar arrived from Dave’s Auto Sales, Jack wishfully thumbed through the months, lingering when he reached October. There she was—The BMW Alpina Roadster V8.

Captivated by her silver exterior and red cockpit, he cut out the image, placed it in a picture frame, and positioned it by his computer. “A man has a right to dream,” he told Cheryl when she saw him embracing the picture. She had tried to surprise him with a picnic lunch. “Be careful you don’t get what you ask for,” she warned then retreated upstairs. I wish we’d had that picnic lunch.

Cheryl’s face was as red as its interior when Jack drove the Roadster home a few weeks later. She stood there in silence, not giggling with enthusiasm as he had hoped. She refused to get in for a spin around town. Her eyes swelled with tears as she blurted, “Well, Jack. I hope you’re happy now.”

“I bought Greta for both of us, Honey. Don’t we deserve a little something for ourselves?”

“Greta?” Cheryl had asked as if not quite believing Jack had actually given the car a name.

“We can well afford the payments. Business has been so good, I’m going to start giving even more money to charity.”

“Don’t think you can bribe God to satisfy your own lust. I’d rather have more of you than that stupid car. It’s just another excuse to work harder. What about our marriage, Jack? What does that mean to you?” Covering her face, she ran into the house.

Jack had flipped through the owner’s manual, but the rustling of the pages was not loud enough to drown out Cheryl’s sobs. He had wanted to comfort her in some way. Why didn’t I? Instead, he started the Roadster’s engine. Had he said it aloud? “She’ll get over it, Greta.”

He did cut back his workload after he bought Greta. He hurried through his daily business routine, rewarding his hard work with a two-hour spin on the open road. Greta’s performance was incredible. She could jump from 0-70 in a heartbeat and was able to stop from high speeds within 2 seconds. Her five-speed transmission purred like a contented kitten. Behind her wheel, he had felt invincible.

When business started declining, he had not told Cheryl. He had hoped it was just a temporary setback. Businesses often went through slumps. But within another three months, Retail Online had gone bankrupt. Thankfully, Eric’s college fund and the mortgage had been in Cheryl’s name, protected from foreclosure. He was glad he had registered the Roadster in Cheryl’s name as well.

Cheryl had seemed unflappable by the bankruptcy. “We’ll manage,” she said. “And Eric’s education is secure. We might have to sell that car, though.” Jack felt his stomach twist into a hundred knots at Cheryl’s suggestion. How could he part with Greta?

Jack had found employment within a few weeks of closing the business. The pay was less than half of what his business had been earning, but he was glad to be working again.

His salary should have been sufficient. There was enough to pay the mortgage, utilities, and to provide Cheryl with an adequate household management fund. The credit cards were negligible and for that, he had been grateful. But, there was not enough left to meet the monthly payment for Greta.

He stopped making his charitable donations. “Just until I figure something out,” he had rationalized in his prayers. “After all, Lord, I’ve given a lot more than most men for a long time. I’ll make it up.”

I meant it when I said it, even though I never gave another dime. Cutting out charitable donations, however, still left him short of meeting the car payment. Cheryl had been livid when he started cutting back on the household account.

“When are you going to realize, we can’t keep that car, Jack,” Cheryl huffed as she threw the checkbook onto the table and stormed up the steps.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way!” he retorted as he picked up the checkbook and pointed it toward the empty stairwell. The sight of the checkbook jolted his memory. Cheryl had added Jack’s name to Eric’s college account after the bankruptcy. He had felt ashamed when he took the passport and withdrew enough funds to pay off what he owed for Greta. “I’ll replace it,” he vowed.

Three weeks later, Cheryl discovered his deception. They had argued for hours until Cheryl threw the suitcase at him and told him to leave. As he walked out the door, Cheryl’s last words still echoed in his heart, “I hope you and Greta live happily ever after.”

Jack glanced out the motel window. The Roadster was parked below. You don’t look so pretty, now, old girl. Greta’s silver exterior paled within the shadows of the streetlight.

“Lord, I’ve really messed up. I’ve been a fool. If you can forgive me, please help me find a way to make it right with Cheryl.” Jack had always believed himself to be a God-fearing man. Yet, somewhere in the mundane of everyday living, he had lost track of the importance of giving God first place. He had attended church regularly and lived a moral life. He found a certain pride in His generous donations to charitable works. The realization dawned that money was not the Divine’s pursuit—the heart was the object of God’s affection. Jack had given his to a hunk of steel named Greta.

His pride had deceived him, led him to believe his wants and desires had been justified. Perhaps the worst of his sin was letting Cheryl down. For the first time in his adult life, Jack found himself on his knees, remaining until the first light broke through the heavy motel curtains.

He accidentally nicked his face when he conceived of the idea while shaving the next morning. Washing the blood from his face, he finished dressing and checked out.

“Sorry, old girl. But we’ve got to stop seeing each other.” He gently stroked the plush leather seat as he drove the Roadster to Dave’s Auto Sales.

It’s a fair trade, he thought as he drove out with the blue Escort™ sedan. He deposited the refund check into Eric’s college fund before heading to the house on Roland Drive. He wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get from Cheryl. Wouldn’t blame her if she slams the door in my face. She’d have to forgive an awful lot to take me back.

He hesitated just a few seconds before pulling into the driveway, rehearsing what he’d say when Cheryl answered the doorbell. To his amazement, when she saw the blue Escort edge into the driveway, she ran out to meet him. As they embraced, he lifted a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of her.

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