Free Fireproof by Alex Kendrick Page B

though he owed his buddies back in Iraq more than he could give them here on friendly soil.
    What he could give, though, was his best—to his wife, his son, and his fellow firefighters.
    â€œWhatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might . . . ”
    He lived by those words from Ecclesiastes. Or tried to, anyway. He’d been given a second chance and he meant to use it wisely.

CHAPTER 12
    C aleb parted the dining room blinds and saw his parents’ car cut into his driveway. John and Cheryl Holt had made the trip over from Savannah, and he figured he should be thankful for their concern. On the other hand, as a healthy American male—a self-made man, right?—he believed he should be able to tackle the problems in his marriage on his own. Surely there was a logical solution. Something obvious.
    Of course, he wasn’t dealing with a logical creature, was he?
    See, there was part of the problem.
    He ushered his parents inside. Offered sweet tea to his mother. Set out a bowl of snacks that went untouched. Apparently they had no more appetite for this conversation than he.
    â€œSon, can you tell us what’s been going on?” John said solemnly.
    Feeling defensive and helpless all at the same time, Caleb situated himself on the living room love seat, alone — how fitting—and faced his parents on the matching sofa.
    John wore a ring of white hair around his head and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that gave him a sage, scholarly appearance. Cheryl had short, graying hair, glasses, and looked her usual presentable self in a peach top and pearl necklace.
    â€œCaleb,” she said with a heavy Southern accent, “I just can’t help worryin’ about you two. Is Catherine doin’ all right?”
    â€œCatherine? Whose side are you on, Mom?”
    â€œOh, it’s not about sides. She’s a daughter to us, by her marriage to you.”
    There was no arguing that point. Caleb had experienced similar acceptance from Catherine’s family. Of course, with his recent struggles, he’d made no real effort to communicate with them. He and retired Captain Campbell hadn’t even gone fishing together this year, and that was a first.
    â€œSo,” he said. “I might as well just get it all out . . .”
    John nodded. “That’s why we’re here, son.”
    With no further preamble, Caleb wheeled out his frustrations. It felt good to share them with someone, even if John and Cheryl weren’t exactly shining examples of marital bliss—at least they hadn’t been in the past.
    Caleb’s childhood had been full of slammed doors, clanging pots and pans, and shouts loud enough for an occasional visit from the local patrolman. Even worse were his parents’ long bouts of silence, during which they wouldn’t speak. They’d circle around each other, warily, like they’d come upon a dead animal in the road.
    That had been worse than the yelling—walking on eggshells and never knowing when the next eruption would occur.
    Still, they were his mother and father. He would weigh any advice they could give, especially in light of the love they seemed to have rediscovered in the last few years. They not only loved each other, they seemed to like each other.
    Good for them. At least someone was happy.
    â€œCaleb,” John said, peering through his glasses, “how long has this been going on?”
    â€œI don’t know,Dad. Uh . . . we’ve had our arguments now and then, but it seems like now she is constantly frustrated with me. I mean, I walk in the door and she’s mad about something.”
    His mother leaned forward, hands folded and eyes full of care. “Have you given her a reason to be upset? I’ve never known Catherine to be unreasonable.”
    â€œListen,” Caleb said, “I could’ve saved the lives of two people at work, but if I’m not here helping wash the dishes, I’m a