The Impressionist Part 1

The Impressionist.

Tim Clinton, Max Davis.

Foreword.

Power of a Story.

By Karen Kingsbury.

I was at the front of a line of reader friends after speaking in Roanoke, VA, at an Extraordinary Women event when a woman stepped up and started crying. "How is Ashley?" she searched my face, completely sincere.

"Ashley?" I blinked. Did I know the woman? Had we met before?

"Yes!" The woman seemed almost frantic. "Ashley Baxter."

I smiled. Ashley Baxter is a character from my Baxter Series. "Well...the stories are fiction. You know that, right?"

The woman hesitated. Her eyes drifted to a spot near the back of the room. "Well," she looked at me again. "I guess I do know that deep inside. I mean, I took her name off the prayer list at church. But still ..." her eyes lit up again. "I was hoping for an update."

This is the power of story.

As a novelist I've seen that sort of thing over and over and over again. G.o.d puts a story on my heart and He uses it to touch the hearts of other people. Through story we are teachable. We allow truths to enter through the back door of our hearts. Every now and then the message in a story is so unforgettable it almost becomes real.

Like Ashley Baxter.

Tim Clinton is that sort of storyteller. He has a lifetime of truth about faith and relations.h.i.+ps and how G.o.d wants us to live. His ministry changes lives for the Lord daily. G.o.d is using Tim Clinton to change this culture for Christ on a number of fronts.

But in this-his first novel-he tells you a story.

I'm honored to introduce to you the latest way you can learn from Tim Clinton. Settle in to The Impressionist and its beautifully written lessons. Let G.o.d speak to you between the lines.

Who knows?

You just might remember the journey forever.

#1 New York Times Bestselling novelist Karen Kingsbury is America's Favorite Storyteller. She has nearly 25 million books in print and her last dozen t.i.tles have all topped bestseller charts. Karen is also a speaker at Extraordinary Women events around the country. She is a fan of Tim and Julie Clinton and everything they stand for. Karen lives in Nashville, TN., with her husband Don and their five sons, and nearby their daughter, Kelsey, who is married to Christian Recording Artist Kyle Kupecky. You can learn more about Karen Kingsbury at www.KarenKingsbury.com.

Dedicated to James Edward Clinton, who first taught me about the love of G.o.d and the truth that is in Christ. A faithful father, husband and pastor extraordinaire, he brought healing to all he encountered, teaching others to become the masterpiece G.o.d created us to be.

"Remember the Lord, great and awesome, and fight for your brethren, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your houses."

-Nehemiah 4:14.

1.

"So what are you trying to say Paige?" My voice began to elevate. "Go ahead. Spit it out! What cha got? I can take it!"

She snapped her head toward me, eyes piercing. "Just forget it Adam, all right. I don't want to fight."

"You don't want to fight?" I laughed. "You started this for crying out loud!" Frustrated, I jerked opened the refrigerator and stared inside while drumming my fingers on the door.

"I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Stand there with the refrigerator door open. You're letting all the cold air out. Make a decision or close the door."

"You want it shut? Well fine!" I slammed the refrigerator door so hard bottles knocked over inside and several family pictures jarred loose from their magnets and fluttered to the floor. Paige flinched backward, stunned by my outburst.

"That wasn't very smart," she said.

"There you go again!" I shouted. "Criticizing! That's all you do anymore!"

"I wasn't criticizing, just stating a fact. The last thing we need right now is to buy a new refrigerator."

"What's that supposed to mean? You know how hard I work!"

"You?" she said. "I work hard too." Then Paige did what she usually does when she's upset. She started cleaning. I hate it when she does that. She turned on the faucet and began was.h.i.+ng our breakfast dishes while staring off into s.p.a.ce. I hate that too-when she checks out on me like she wishes she were somewhere else. But don't be fooled, Paige knows exactly what she's doing. She's pus.h.i.+ng my b.u.t.tons. It gives her a sense of power. I moved to her side, looking down on her, violating her personal s.p.a.ce, pus.h.i.+ng her b.u.t.tons.

"We have a dishwasher you know," I said.

Paige didn't respond, just kept was.h.i.+ng.

"Oh, now you're silent?" I barked, pressing. "You know it drives me crazy when you clam up like that-get me all worked up and then shut me out! It's a game to you isn't it?" Giving in to rage, my mouth couldn't stop. I was on a roll, a runaway train out of control. "You're sorry you married me, aren't you? Just admit it! It's true! I know that's what you're thinking-how disappointed you are in me."

"I never said that."

"You don't have to, Paige. It's written all over your face!"

Paige slammed down a plate into the sink shattering it. "Fine," she cried out, "I'm sorry I married you! There, I said it! Happy now?" She turned away from me to gaze out the kitchen window. Wetness formed in the corner of her eyes and her bottom lip began to quiver. "It wasn't supposed to be like-" She cut herself off before finis.h.i.+ng the sentence and began carefully picking up the broken pieces of plate and placing them in the trash canister under the sink.

Clutching her shoulder, I spun her around to face me. "What Paige?" I demanded. "It wasn't supposed to be like what?"

She pushed herself away from me, stronger, forcefully. "This okay! It wasn't supposed to be like this! I can't take this anymore! Something's got to change Adam."

"Change!" I yelled back. "What do you mean? ...Oh, you mean me, right? I've got to change?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits!"

"The problem is you're impossible! I can't please you no matter what I do!"

Paige took a moment to regain her composure and then smiled sadly through her pain. "You should take some lessons from Eric," she said calm and calculating. "It's so obvious how much he loves his Carolyn."

"Eric?" I shook my head in disbelief. "You gotta be kidding me? The guy's a wuss! And it's not exactly like you're in compet.i.tion for the World's Greatest Wife Award! Maybe you could take some lessons from Carolyn...maybe join her fitness cla.s.s. It's definitely working for her!"

The moment those poisonous darts shot out of my mouth, I wished I could have pulled them back. Before my eyes, I watched my wife go limp as the deadly toxin took effect. Then the tears burst free and flowed down her cheeks, her expression no longer of anger but of defeat and devastation, of hurt. Paige collapsed into a kitchen table chair and buried her head into her hands.

"I'm tired Adam," she said through broken sobs. "I've had enough. I want out. I've got to get out."

It took a moment for the full impact of her words to register in my brain. These were words I'd never heard before, words that Paige had never uttered, not in the entire nineteen years of our marriage. Yes, we'd argued before, done the dance, but it had never come to this. This time a line had been crossed. Issues and feelings that had been percolating for years had finally boiled to the surface. Staggering under the weight of her words, a panic began to seize me.

"You don't really mean that," I plead while reaching out to touch her arm. "I'm tired too, honey. We're both worn out. Be reasonable. Let's just talk about this later when we're not upset. I wasn't thinking, just reacting."

"Don't touch me!" She yanked her arm back, recoiling away from me as if she'd been burned. "Leave me alone!"

"All right," I said stepping back gingerly. I leaned against the counter with my arms folded across my chest, not knowing what to do. "If that's what you really want...for now."

"Oh trust me, Adam. It's what I want!" She dabbed her eyes with the dish towel she was holding. "Right now what I want is to be as far away from you as possible!"

Feeling the knife twisting in my gut, out of nowhere, I blurted out desperately. "G.o.d hates divorce!"

"Really, Adam?" she spat. "I didn't know that! G.o.d also hates husbands being jerks!"

Realizing my mouth had already done way too much damage, I fought the urge to lash out again. Nervously, I s.h.i.+fted my weight from one foot to the other, looking at her. Paige laid her head down on the table and closed her eyes like every bit of energy had been drained from her. An awkward silence filled the kitchen magnifying the everyday sounds around us. Water dripped slowly from the faucet, echoing off the stainless steel sink, while the refrigerator hummed. Birds chirped outside the window and dogs barked in the distance.

"There's something else I need to tell you," Paige eventually said. "The timing stinks, but it's important."

"Fire away," I replied. "It can't get any worse."

"Yes it can," she moaned. "Josh is using again."

"What!" I pounded my fist against the granite counter-top. "I thought his tests have been clean?"

"Apparently he's been lying to us. He's been using synthetic marijuana that's undetectable to most tests. They changed tests. The princ.i.p.al called. They also found pills in his locker-Xanax."

"Xanax?"

"Yes, so he's suspended again. They haven't decided if they are going to expel him. The handbook calls for expulsion and he could go to jail, Adam!"

"Ugh...what's wrong with that kid! What happened to my boy?" I said, my rage rising. "He's been playing us this whole time! And you were planning on telling me this when?"

"I didn't call you because I knew how upset you'd get and Josh begged me not to say anything until you got back in town. I was going to tell you first thing this morning but..."

"And you obliged him! I'm your husband, his father!"

"You're never around anyway."

"That's low Paige!" I slammed my heel against the cabinet. "It's all on me, how convenient."

She flinched. "Stop slamming things!"

"You're the one who's always complaining about the money!" I threw my hands up and made a beeline out the kitchen toward Josh's room. "It's past ten and he's still sleeping! Get ready to call cause he's gonna need an ambulance when I'm finished with him!"

Paige jumped up from the table and ran after me. "Adam! STOP!"

Already in the hallway, I turned around. "What now!"

"You're too angry!"

"Oh no, I'm angry," I said. "You wanted me worked up- well you got it!"

"Don't say or do something you'll regret! Please!"

I moved to ignore her.

"I'll call the cops, Adam! I swear I will!" Her eyes locked onto mine, narrowing. Gone were the tears, now replaced with fire, a mother's fire.

Believing her every word, I stopped dead in my tracks only a few feet from Josh's bedroom door contemplating. The simmering rage inside of me was at the point of eruption. With clinched teeth and fists, my temples and neck throbbed. I'd never considered myself a violent person but things were changing fast. At any second I was going to blow and the harm caused from the shrapnel would not be pretty. "Aaaaaaahhhhh!" I screamed so loudly, I was sure every neighbor on the block could hear it. Blowing past Paige, I bolted out the front door slamming it behind me. With my hands shoved deep into my jean pockets, I exploded on a half-deflated soccer ball that was laying in the front yard. The second it launched from my foot I realized it had become a projectile that could do serious damage to something or someone. Once again, I'd reacted before thinking. Fortunately, the ball arched in the air and across two driveways eventually rolling to a stop underneath a neighbor's minivan. "Safe from at least one lawsuit," I mumbled as I stormed down the street.

2.

There was a crisp, fall breeze stirring the leaves that Sat.u.r.day morning. It was a great day to get some air. If my head hadn't been so clouded with anger maybe I could've enjoyed it. Still, I had to get away and driving was out of the question because I'd probably run over somebody! I knew one thing for sure. I didn't want to go back in that house. So I walked. It just so happens that our neighborhood is located about six or so blocks from Indian Mounds City Park. Unusually nice, it's the city's biggest one and a much-needed reprieve from the concrete jungle. It had been one of the perks for us moving to the area. Wearing an old pair of Nike running shoes, my favorite UM sweats.h.i.+rt, and too upset to do anything else, that's where I headed.

Indian Mounds boasts of numerous paved trails weaving throughout a canopy of trees and gardens with periodic fitness stops along the way. The main trail circles around a tranquil sixty-acre lake complete with an a.s.sortment of duck and geese. On any given day a plethora of die-hard fishermen line the banks casting their lines. During the summer months, wind surfers and small sailboats abound. Dotted strategically around the area are playgrounds and picnic tables with barbeque pits. At the park's entrance there's a fifty-foot totem pole overlooking five historical Indian burial mounds, thus the name. Across the boulevard is a convenience store where I stopped to pick up a drink before hitting the trail.

Once inside the store I marched up to the cooler, opened the gla.s.s door, and reached for a Dasani but jerked out the Red Bull instead. Yes, that's what suited me at the moment, a triple shot of caffeine! When I spun around to head to the cash register, I ran smack dab into Eric from church. I nearly knocked him over. He was standing right there! I couldn't believe it! What are the odds?

"Hey, Adam," he said beaming like he'd just won the lottery or something. He was dressed to the hilt in running apparel-tight, long-sleeved, dry-fit, fluorescent green s.h.i.+rt, black tights, and high-dollar matching shoes. "How you doing, brother?" he asked. "You okay man?" No doubt he could tell something was up with me. Hiding my emotions has never been one of my strong suits. Still, I put on the best religious face I could.

"Great!" I said, "Couldn't be better." I lied.

"Good to hear." He zeroed in on my Red Bull. "You know that stuff's bad for you?"

"Yep, but the kick is ridiculous!" I said moving to go around him.

"I get my kick from the Lord, brother!"