Ecc Study Six

Study Number Six

Read Ecclesiastes 3-4:12.

“two are better than one”

Keegan and Clare had not conversed long over coffee. He wanted to discuss plans for the youth group with Abigail and the boy, who were seniors and had become leaders among their peers by their own doing; Keegan hadn’t pressed them into anything. They were just confident, outgoing kids whose parents were very active in the church, and so were they.
Keegan told Clare about them and a little about some of the other kids in his youth group when he called her a week later. She could tell he enjoyed his job and really cared about the young people he worked with.
He said he’d tried to catch her at church and hadn’t been able to. “Thought I’d ask you to go rock climbing with me and a couple of the guys,” he said, with a laugh.
Surely he wasn’t serious, Clare thought.
For her part, she’d stared at him off and on throughout the service and had intended to talk to him afterward, but a couple who were friends of her parents had invited her over for dinner and she’d stayed with them until they left the building shortly after the conclusion of the service. They’d only stopped to chat with one other couple for a few minutes.
Clare was to follow them to their house. She saw Keegan leave the building as she pulled out of the parking lot. She thought he might be looking for her, but decided it was just wishful thinking on her part.
She didn’t know why she was so drawn to him. Sure he was good-looking, but he was so—well—youthful. Just a bigger version of the high school students he worked with. Sporty, energetic, and shallow was how Clare had perceived him when she’d observed him at church. It was true that she thought she’d caught him looking at her at church a few times before they actually met in the coffee shop, but he hadn’t, as far as Clare could tell, made any effort to get to meet her until Abigail recognized her, pointed out that she was an author.
When he called her, she could tell he was nervous. He was oddly talkative and quiet by turn. After telling her he’d not been able to catch her after church, he made some joke about hating to talk on the phone because he was afraid he’d get cut off right as he was saying something really important. “Can you hear me now?” Then he apologized again, this time for not talking to her longer at the coffee shop. Then he was quiet for a long time. She asked him a couple questions about his family but he didn’t say much in response. After another stretch of silence, he asked her if she liked her job. She told him about a student she had who was frustrating her because he kept handing his work in late. He did good work but she always had to deduct from his grade for late penalties.
When she finished talking, Keegan said, a bit abruptly, “Would you like to go to an orchestra concert with me?”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Vi-Vivaldi’s Four Seasons,” he said eagerly, though he stumbled over the composer’s name.
She wondered if he’d intended to go anyway or had gotten tickets in hopes of going with her. Somehow, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d be interested in.
“Yes, I’d like that,” she said, finding herself already looking forward to it, wondering what she should wear. Would it be formal?
She wondered why he was asking her. What he hoped would happen between the two of them. Surely he was as aware of how very different the two of them were as she was.
He picked her up minutes before the concert was to start. She was a little annoyed. After finally telling herself that she looked all right and she needed to stop dillydallying because he’d be there any minute, she stood by the window and then paced from the window to the clock for half an hour until he finally arrived. Toward the end, she worried that something had happened to him or that he’d forgotten.
When his car finally turned into her driveway, she felt like telling him she didn’t want to go after all, that they’d be late anyway, or that they might not be allowed in until intermission. But when she answered the door, he immediately apologized for being late, looking embarrassed. His face was red. Then he said, “You look so nice.” She was glad she’d worn her royal blue blouse with her black skirt. She’d had the jacket on that went with the skirt but had taken it off at the last minute and unbuttoned the top button of her top. She didn’t want him to perceive her as a prissy English teacher.
She quickly forgave him for his tardiness, no explanation needed. The sight of him, the way his gaze caressed her, the warmth he exuded, and the gentle tone of his voice were so welcome. More than she’d expected them to be. They brought a lump to her throat that she quickly swallowed away.
In just one month’s time, they went to a couple concerts and a dinner theater performance together. The next month, Keegan took Clare to several nice restaurants, and to one more casual one. The following month, they went to the state fair an hour away and to a ball game in town. He also called Clare frequently to talk with her. He talked about the kids in his youth group. She talked about her students. She talked about books she had read and about things that frustrated her. He listened. She continued to think he was very different from her, not a thinker, too accepting of everything. Then he would make a sarcastic, knowing comment, and she’d change her mind. Clare found him fascinating and a little frightening. She wasn’t sure if it was him or her fascination with him that frightened her. She kept trying to tell herself she wasn’t interested in him, but she knew she really was. She found the thought of doing some of the things he liked to do with him—like going rock climbing—very scary. But she found the thought of not doing those things with him very depressing.
The fifth month they’d been dating, Clare joined Keegan for a roller blading activity with his teens. Clare felt very awkward, as roller blading was something she’d done only once before in her life and consequently wasn’t very good at. Also, she found it embarrassing that three of the young people had an older sibling who either currently had or in the past had had her as a teacher. One was Abigail. When Abigail had first met Clare, she hadn’t known the connection, but later, when she was talking to her family about meeting Clare, her mother mentioned that Abigail’s older sister Serena had had Clare as a teacher.
When Abigail told Clare at the youth activity, Clare immediately remembered Serena. “She was one of the first students I ever had,” Clare said. “Whatever happened to—I can’t remember his name—she was dating someone?”
“I don’t know,” Abigail said. “Serena dated a lot of different guys. She was very popular. She’s married now. Her husband’s name is Frank. Does that sound familiar?”
“No,” Clare said. “It wasn’t him. I’m glad. He didn’t seem like the best person for Serena. At least I didn’t think so. What is her husband like?”
Abigail shrugged. “Frank’s a nice guy, I guess,” she said. “He seems kind of boring, though. He’s short and kind of fat and wears really thick glasses.”
“What does he do?” Clare asked.
“He’s writes for the paper.” She stopped and frowned. “No, maybe he’s an editor,” she said after a moment. “Not here. They live a few hours away. It’s sort of a smaller town.”
Clare smiled. She thought journalism sounded like a rather glamorous career. Not Abigail, obviously, though maybe she was merely categorizing her brother-in-law as boring because of his personality, not his job. You’d think the job would help though. Perhaps if his were a bigger paper for a bigger town, something well-known. Or if he were on the radio or TV. Then Abigail might be impressed, Clare thought. That’s what impressed her about me.
Recognition. The word had many meanings for Clare, all of them applicable. Nor was she the only one who sought it and what came with it. Clare saw face after face in her mind, and one face in particular. One who had had and had appreciated the recognition of her peers more than anything. At least Clare had thought she hadn’t wanted anything more.
Abigail was looking at Clare expectantly.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Clare said, realizing the girl must have asked her something, and she hadn’t heard.
“I want to know if you’ve dated a lot, before Keegan,” Abigail said.
Clare blushed. She tried to think of the best response, after she got over Abigail’s referring to Keegan by his first name, something Clare’s students rarely did, not because made a big deal of their not doing it, but just because she was that kind of a teacher, she supposed. Not standoffish or stodgy, necessarily, though very focused on her subject, wanting to get them interested in it. Fun, she hoped. But very much a teacher. If one of her students asked her about her dating history, she’d probably feel it was impertinent; at least she wouldn’t be eager to share current information about the subject. Somehow, Abigail’s probing didn’t seem quite as out-of-line, but it certainly made Clare uncomfortable, especially since she sensed Abigail was just as interested or more so in the present as in the past.
“I’ve dated quite a bit, I guess,” Clare said slowly, her tongue feeling kind of thick. Why was it that in non-threatening, everyday conversation, she sometimes seemed to trip over words so badly, when in the classroom, she often had moments, or entire lessons when words came to her lips as quickly and smoothly as they came to her mind? Of course, this conversation wasn’t completely non-threatening, but Abigail was only a child, or just a little more than.
“Anybody serious?” Abigail asked.
Clare wondered if Abigail meant serious in personality, about her, or about dating in general. Or did she mean had Clare been serious about anyone? Of course that was what she meant.
“Mostly, I spent time with a lot of different people when I was in college,” Clare said. “I had quite a few friends—guys and girls. I wasn’t really thinking about getting married.” She knew her words were evasive, purposefully so, and she knew her response wasn’t answering Abigail’s question, not specifically at least. But she didn’t really want to answer Abigail’s question yet. What she was telling Abigail had just been true before, not after. After it happened, there were still a few—precious few--true friendships, but even those weren’t, weren’t truly satisfying.
Abigail looked disappointed. She looked away from Clare, who was sitting next to her on the bench, to the path where her friends were whizzing by. Clare was afraid Abigail was going to join them. As much as she’d be relieved to have the questions stop, she’d rather miss the company, and the excuse to not be skating with the others for a while, without seeming unfriendly. Also, Abigail, even with the questions, was in some ways a more comfortable companion than Keegan. Clare suddenly wanted to confide in her. “I’ve never really dated anyone seriously,” Clare said. “I’ve had some guys interested in me that I just went on one or two dates with before I decided it would be false encouragement to continue, a couple who wouldn’t leave me alone, even after I told them I wasn’t interested in more than friendship, and one guy friend who proposed. I didn’t accept.” Sounded awful, put that way, Clare thought. Like she was flirtatious or cold. Maybe, she’d first been a bit flirtatious and then cold. But all of that was after it happened—before she’d been more simply naïve. After she was more—distrustful. She had no intention of telling Abigail though. Possibly she already knew. Possibly she could see the guilt and pain in Clare’s eyes.
“Why not?” Abigail asked, seeming really interested now, her eyes completely on Clare, the rollerbladers forgotten.
Clare had to think back to what she was asking. “Why didn’t I marry him? That’s a good question. I’m not really sure. He just wasn’t—the one for me. Afterward, I kind of wished I’d said yes, but then he was dating someone else. They’re married now.”
He’d been Prof. Michaels’ prodigy. Michaels had actually set them up. Clare had thought he was amazing, at first. He was so smart, funny. Arrogant, maybe. Spoiled. But it was more than that about him or—about him and her—that had bothered her, more than that that had held her back. She’d regretted her decision, had felt—a little—betrayed when she found out he was engaged. But only fleetingly. Now she didn’t regret it, not really. But she was lonely. Her life was so quiet. So still. At least the students were full of life. But their world wasn’t hers, though the two intersected for relatively brief chunks of time, sometimes not particularly pleasant times, but sometimes sweet, intoxicating moments of light and substance and—living water from the red rock, or at least some of the spray. Good old Eliot. But they weren’t the red rock. Her students weren’t. People weren’t. She knew they couldn’t satisfy, though they could help—unless. Unless they turned out to have many secrets.
“Are you going to marry Keegan?” Abigail asked.
Now Clare really blushed, fiercely, though she should have known that question was coming. She realized, however, that she blushed not simply because Abigail asked it, but because she was fairly certain Keegan would hear her reply. Abigail was the type of girl who would be sure to tell him. In fact, she started wondering if Keegan had put Abigail up to it. “We’re just friends,” Clare said firmly and a bit quickly.
“But you’re dating, aren’t you? You do a lot of things with him. And he says you’re more than just friends. He might propose to you. Would you say yes?”
“I don’t know,” Clare said.

Later, Clare rollerbladed next to Keegan. Because she didn’t feel very confident, especially at the speed they were going down a long, though thankfully not terribly steep, decline, she reached for him and clung to his hand for support. It was large, warm, and strong. Clare swallowed. Her hands seemed to her rather smallish and square and somewhat sticky.
“Not so fast,” Clare said. “Please.”
Keegan laughed. “You’re fine. I’ve got you,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.” But then he pointed to a bench ahead. “We can stop there, if you want.”
Clare nodded. “Please,” she said again.
“You’re doing great,” Keegan said when they were seated. “I told a couple of the kids that you’ve never been before, and they couldn’t believe it.”
“They must be blind,” Clare said. “Anyway, I have been—once. Not that I learned anything. I never did quite get the hang of roller skating in grade school either. And I’ve only been ice skating once too.”
“Skiing?” Keegan asked.
Clare shook her head. “Never,” she said.
“Well, I’d love to teach you,” Keegan said.
Clare smiled a little uncertainly and was thankful when Abigail stopped to ask Keegan if he would help a girl who was struggling to learn. Abigail had been working with her for a while, but one of the guys had asked her to go ahead with him and she was eager to do so. Clare thought it was a little sad that she was so ready to leave her friend for a boy, probably the silly one she’d been with at the coffee shop. Typical, though, and understandable. Natural, really. Clare herself would be the first to admit that there was an extra dimension to interaction with the opposite sex, even if there was only a mild attraction between the two; still, there was a heightened sensibility that wasn’t present with another of the same gender. Clare dreamed of marriage and family just as did most single women, maybe more than some and less than others. She enjoyed many aspects of single life but she also relished the thought of having someone share her heart, someone she could talk to about anything, someone who really knew her well and appreciated her, someone whom she could cuddle up to at night. Someone she could trust. But it wouldn’t be enough, would it? It wouldn’t solve all her problems, quiet all her dissatisfactions. Nor would it have changed anything. It probably wouldn’t have been enough for her sister either.
Clare watched Keegan coach the thin, freckled teenaged girl. He rollerbladed slowly next to her, reaching for her occasionally when she teetered and threatened to fall over because of problems with balance or her roller blades skipping a bit as they ran over twigs or pebbles on the sidewalk. The girl was flushed and her eyes were bright when she looked up and laughed at something Keegan said.
He is a nice man, Clare thought. Considerate of others. Very interested in the world around him. He makes you feel so—special. But he still didn’t really strike Clare as being very much of a thinker, certainly not a literary man. She wondered if he’d ever actually read more than one Shakespeare play, something other than Romeo and Juliet. He seemed to like Clare, to want to get to know her better as something more than a friend, but on the other hand, she wasn’t at all the type of girl you’d expect him to pursue. She wasn’t particularly athletic and hadn’t quite that kind of silly sense of humor he had, though he could be sarcastic too. She might be pretty, but if that’s all that drew him to her, that and possibly her newfound and most likely soon to be short-lived fame, then she was better off without him and he without her, even if he didn’t think so right now. Clare appreciated that he’d taken her to concerts and plays. She thought they were activities he’d chosen more because he thought she’d enjoy them than because he would. She knew though that sooner or later it would be far more difficult for the two of them to do things only for the other person, if they weren’t able to find something they both enjoyed. Even in their conversations she felt they didn’t really share themselves with each other, they held so much back, and there was still so much that she just wondered about him, but didn’t ask. She so wanted to ask him everything and didn’t want to know anything more about him at the same time.
We might complement each other, she thought. Have strengths and weaknesses in different areas and be able to make up for the other’s lack. But Clare wanted to be with someone who would share things with her, really share them, not just vicariously.
Two are better than one, Clare told herself. But not always. Only if those two really worked together. She’d seen enough bad marriages to know that she wanted to have a very good marriage or none at all.
Keegan came back to Clare after a short time. “She’s getting the hang of it,” he said, a little breathlessly. “Not as well as you, but well enough that her friends should enjoy being with her a little more. Not that they didn’t like being with her anyway,” he quickly added.
“There are a lot of nice kids in your youth group,” Clare said. “I would have liked to have been with a bunch like that when I was that age. Our church was mostly older people. But there were always my sisters.”
“That’s probably better,” Keegan said.
“I don’t know,” said Clare.
“Not to change the subject, but—did Abigail say anything to you about—“ Keegan faltered and reddened slightly. He stopped. Clare could tell he was trying to think of how to continue. She supposed she should help him.
“She asked me about all of my dating history and the exact nature of our relationship. She’s a nosy little gal,” Clare said.
Keegan laughed a little awkwardly. “Yes, she is,” he said.
“I didn’t tell her much but still probably told her too much,” Clare said.
“Hmm,” Keegan murmured. Clare knew he wanted her to say more but she didn’t volunteer anything else and he didn’t ask. Instead he asked her if she’d like to go hiking the following week and maybe take along his friend’s canoe and try it out a bit.
Clare told him she’d get back with him. She enjoyed hiking and some other outdoor activities but generally not as much as he did and he obviously sensed that, though he’d hinted several times that he’d like her to share that interest with him. Canoeing she could handle though she wasn’t thrilled about it. A hike with him would be really fun, though. A great opportunity to talk and to just be together and get to know one another better, that is, if there was more to know. Surely there was, but would it be disappointing? How could it make up for the differences she’d already seen in herself and him, and her uncertainties about their relationship? Would it be better just to quit now, better not to go ahead and ask those questions and possibly hear unwelcome answers? But she did so much enjoy his company. And she was truly attracted to him. When he looked at her a certain way, she felt such sweet, happy, exciting warmth.

Clare rummaged through her cupboards looking for something to snack on while she wrote. She was out of chips and crackers, nuts, and chocolate, all her favorite things to snack on. She settled on a piece of string cheese, ate it all while she stared at her computer screen, and then started to furiously type. But what she ended up writing was pretty much a transcript of her last date with Keegan. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.
They’d had a fabulous time hiking. They’d hiked all the paths in the park, and in a couple of spots, it had been a bit of a climb going up. Going down, Clare sat and eased herself down in those areas. Keegan took her hand several times to help her. She loved the feel of his large, warm, strong hands. He had such incredible hands, she thought. They seemed so sure and so safe, but their touch also made her pulse race.
They’d spent much of the time in companionable silence, and also much chatting about whatever came to mind. She told him about someone putting spiced peanuts that tasted like motor oil in the teachers’ lounge. “The note beside them did say they were a bit spicy,” Clare said. “But it also said they were free. Everybody had to try them. Teachers are so cheap. They have to take anything that’s free. But I spit mine out in the trashcan. You can’t believe how awful they were.”
“Did you ever find out who put them there?” Keegan asked. “I wonder where they got them?”
He sounded like he wanted to try pulling a similar prank himself. Clare narrowed her eyes at him.
“It would be hilarious to put some in the church office,” Keegan said.
“I’m not going to find out for you,” Clare said.
“Oh, why not?” Keegan asked. “Spoil sport.”

As they got into the canoe, Clare was quiet. Keegan held the boat until Clare was settled in it, and then he climbed in himself. He used his oar to push them away from shore. Soon he was rowing so hard, water splashed in on Clare’s legs.
“You’re getting me all wet,” she said.
“I’m getting myself wet too,” he said. “Isn’t it great?”
Clare laughed. It actually was.
He started singing “The Water Is Wide,” a little off-key. He finished the line “and we both shall row, my true love and I,” and fell silent, reddening in embarrassment. For some reason, though, Clare didn’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable at all. She was becoming more and more pleased with the thought of being his true love.
As she thought about it, Clare was glad he’d only sung the first verse. The second was depressing. She was pretty sure it began “I put my hand in a rosy bush and pricked my finger to the bone.”

“As ladies’ president I promise to—
“And I will—
“Finally, I thank you so much for your votes. I hope you’ll never regret them.”

“Did you hear she’s going to homecoming with the men’s president?”
“No, I thought she was running for homecoming queen.”
“Don’t you remember? She was homecoming queen last year. They just made a rule that you can’t do it two years in a row.”
“Yes, I remember that she was queen last year. I just never heard about the rule. This is the first year she’s been ladies’ president though, right? Can she do it next year too?”
“No, the rule is for all elected positions.”
“Oh.”
“Rebekah C. was last year‘s women’s pres. What’s she up to now, since she graduated?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me either. Going to college, probably.”
“No, I don’t think so. Somebody said she’s working at a gas station just outside of town.”
“No. Really?”
“Well, that’s what I heard.”
“I wonder what will happen to Abby. You don’t think she’ll end up like that?”
“No, not her. She’ll do great things or at least know great people. We’ll never hear the end of her.”

Questions to Answer

1. Discuss the meaning of 3:11.

2. Chapter 4:1-12 talk about relating to others. What are the negatives mentioned about relating to others and what are the positives?

3. What do you think of Keegan?

4. Whom would you describe as your closest friend on earth? Why?

5. Do you feel you have difficulty forming healthy relationships? Why?