02_Groom of Her Own (26 page)

Sam drew a shaky breath, realizing she’d run out of time. She was backed into a comer and there was no escape. “It’s just so…unexpected, Brad,” she said, the explanation for her reaction sounding lame even to her ears.

“I realize that,” he conceded, struggling not to betray his panic. “But I’m also getting the impression that it’s unwelcome,” he said cautiously.

“Oh, no! No! It’s not that,” she cried.

Brad couldn’t doubt the sincerity in her voice or her eyes, and he breathed a little easier. His instincts had been right—she cared about him deeply. But something—apparently of a very serious nature—was holding her back. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Brad!” She didn’t even know where to start. Maybe it was best to begin with the lesser concerns. “Think about it. We’re so different. How could this ever work?”

“We’re not as different as you seem to think we are.” She was stalling, avoiding the real problem, and he knew it. But eventually she’d have to tell him, and all he could do was wait until she was ready.

“But…well…there are issues.”

“Like what?”

“Like…I don’t want to quit working,” she said, groping for excuses.

“I don’t expect you to,” he assured her. “Lots of ministers’ wives work. Besides, we could use the extra money. Especially if we buy that house you found,” he said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood of doom that now hovered menacingly over the room.

“I’m not the domestic type, either. And I can’t cook.”

“Trust me, I know,” he replied, his mouth twisting into a wry grin. “But I’m used to microwave food.”

She frantically racked her brain for other excuses. “I probably make more money than you do,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

She stared at him, taken aback. “Well, no. But— Oh, Brad, I’m not religious enough to be a minister’s wife!”

“We’ll work on it,” he said easily. “I think that more of your Christian upbringing survived than you realize. It’s just a matter of giving it a chance to develop.”

Sam was out of excuses. This was the moment of truth. She reached for a throw pillow, crushed it between her fingers and hugged it in front of her like a shield before turning to face him.

Brad frowned, his perceptive eyes missing none of her distress. She looked pale, almost ill, and once more his gut clenched as he braced himself for whatever was to come.

Sam drew a deep, steadying breath, and when she spoke, her tone was no longer frenetic or agitated, but resigned. “Brad, there are things you don’t know about me,” she said slowly, her voice subdued.

“I know everything I need to know,” he assured her, but for the first time she detected a slight hesitation in his voice.

Sam swallowed convulsively and shook her head jerkily. “No. You don’t.” She walked over to the window and stared out silently for a moment, still gripping the pillow protectively. “But it’s time you did,” she affirmed quietly, taking another deep breath before she forced herself to turn and face him. “You know that volunteer work I do on Tuesday nights?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s at a counseling center. We work with young unmarried pregnant girls, giving them the support they need to carry their baby to full term instead of destroying it.”

“That’s good work, Sam. It’s admirable,” he said carefully, unsure where this was leading.

“No,” she replied, her voice choked. She turned away, unable in the end to look at him. “I don’t do it for altruistic reasons. I do it because…because of guilt.”

There was a moment of silence as Brad absorbed her words, and though her face was averted, Sam could feel a slight withdrawal, a distancing, even though neither had moved.

When he spoke again, his tone was measured, his voice cautious. “Do you want to explain that?”

No, she cried silently. What she wanted to do was forget it! To erase it from her memory forever and be free to live her life without the shadow of guilt that darkened her days. But that was a futile wish. And it was time he knew the truth.

And so she told him. Of her pregnancy. Of Randy’s threats. Of her indecision and desperation. Of the pills and the drive and the accident. She told him how her irresponsibility had caused two deaths and left her potentially unable to conceive. She spared him none of the details, placing the blame squarely where it belonged—on herself. Because this man, who had just offered her his heart, had a right to know the burden she carried—and would always carry—in hers.

Not until she finished, tears running down her face and her voice choking on the last few, choppy sentences, did she turn with dread to face him.

Their eyes met, hers filled with anguish, his with shock. They stared at each other silently across the room, now shrouded in gloom by the fading twilight Brad’s lips were compressed into a thin, grim line, and there were deep furrows etched in his brow. His eyes were no longer warm, but distant, horrified and dazed. It was exactly the reaction Sam had feared, and she reached up to wipe the back of her hand across her eyes, trying to stifle a sob.

“I’m sorry, Brad,” she whispered brokenly. “I should have told you all this a long time ago, before…” Her voice trailed off. She had started to say, “before we fell in love,” but the words lodged in her throat “I’m so sorry,” she repeated helplessly.

Brad didn’t say anything. He just bowed his head and passed one hand wearily over his face.

Sam watched him, her heart breaking. She knew his reaction was what she deserved but she wished with all her being that it had been different In the last few weeks she’d allowed herself to hope that maybe she could find her own happy ending, as Laura had. But now she was forced to acknowledge that her hope had never been more than a fragile illusion. One that was crumbling now before her eyes as she stood by helplessly, unable to do anything but watch.

Sam felt ready to crumble herself, and she suddenly knew that the one thing she couldn’t handle was Brad telling her it was over. The words he would say would be forever burned in her memory, replaying over and over again in the lonely years ahead. She couldn’t deal with that. It was better if she ended it herself.

Sam moved shakily toward the coffee table and picked up the velvet box in her trembling fingers, allowing herself one last look at the ring, the sparkling symbol of the dream that might have been. Then she closed the lid. The finality of the snap echoed hollowly in the heavy stillness that suddenly lay between them. She put the ring carefully into his hand and walked unsteadily to the door.

“I think it will be easier for…for both of us if we just…say goodbye, Brad.” Her words were choppy, her breath coming in short gasps. “I hope someday you can find it in your heart to…to forgive me for not telling you all this sooner. I guess I hoped that…well, it doesn’t matter now. Please…just leave.”

Brad stared down at the ring box, almost as if he didn’t understand how it had come to be in his hand, then walked toward her. “Sam, I…”

“Please,
Brad,” she repeated in a choked voice. “Just go. Please.”

He stood only inches away from her, but the chasm between them felt so deep and wide it might as well have been an ocean. Sam opened the door and stepped back. He paused on the threshold to look at her, his eyes still glazed with shock, the porch light mercilessly highlighting the haggard planes of his face. He almost seemed like a stranger, she thought. The warmth and love and passion she’d grown so used to finding in his eyes had vanished. In their place she saw only…emptiness.

“Goodbye, Brad.” Without waiting for him to respond, she gently eased the door shut and slipped the lock into place.

Sam sagged against the frame and closed her eyes as the tears ran unchecked down her face. It was over. She was alone. Again. Just as she’d been for the past seventeen years.

Except—maybe the Lord was still with her, she thought suddenly. And in her despair she turned to Him with a desperate plea. Forgive me for what I did to that wonderful man, she prayed fervently. I let him fall in love with me, knowing what would likely happen when he found out about my past. That was wrong. And, Lord, please…please forgive me, also, for what I did that night seventeen years ago. I’ve never asked for Your forgiveness before, because I never felt I deserved it. And I probably still don’t But I’ve carried the burden of guilt and sorrow for so many years. I don’t think I can carry it any longer. Even if Brad can’t find it in his heart to forgive me, I hope that You can. Because I need to feel Your love and forgiveness, and to know that I’m not alone. Please help me.

Laura frowned and replayed the answering machine one more time.

“Laura, it’s Sam. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going out of town for a few days, in case you try to reach me. And would you do me a favor? Tell Brad that Leslie Nelson at my office will handle the contract for him. Thanks, kiddo. I’ll call you when I get back.”

Laura’s frown deepened. Despite the straightforward content of her message, Sam didn’t sound at all like herself. Her voice was…funny. Rough, ragged, like she’d been crying. And the message had been left at eleventhirty. If she and Nick hadn’t stopped for a late bite after the theater she would have been there to talk to Sam directly. Now all she could do was wonder—and worry.

“What do you make of it?” Laura asked Nick, who entered in time to hear the last play-through.

Nick shook his head, frowning. “I don’t have a clue. But that sure doesn’t sound like Sam.”

“Do you think I should call Brad?”

Nick glanced at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty. I’m sure he’s in bed by now.”

She sighed resignedly. “You’re probably right I guess I’ll just have to wait and talk to him after church tomorrow. I just hope he knows what’s going on.”

One look at Brad’s face the next morning was enough to convince Laura that he knew exactly what was going on. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept all night, and he had an uncharacteristic pallor. Obviously, Sam’s problem was also Brad’s.

Laura waited in the church after the service while Nick went down to the coffee room. The moment Brad emerged she rose. He saw her immediately and strode toward her quickly.

“Laura! I was hoping you’d wait. Do you know where Sam is?” he asked without preamble.

She shook her head helplessly. “I thought maybe you did. I had a message on the answering machine when we got home last night that she was going out of town for a few days. And she said to tell you to work with Leslie Nelson in her office on the contract, if that makes any sense.”

He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, it does. The contract part, anyway. I’m getting ready to put a bid on a house. Listen, Laura, do you have any idea where she went?”

“No. None.” She reached up and touched his arm, her voice etched with concern. “Brad, what happened? She sounded awful. And pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look so great yourself. I have a feeling there’s a connection there.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “You’re right There is. Sam and I…well, she told me some things last night…I guess I was just in shock or something…. I’ve been calling her, but I keep getting her machine. I don’t know what to do….” He sighed again, his frustration almost tangible. “Frankly, Laura, I acted like an idiot,” he admitted bluntly. “She needed me, and I wasn’t there for her.”

Laura couldn’t follow Brad’s disjointed rambling, but obviously something serious had happened between him and Sam the day before, which Brad now regretted. And if Brad was in this almost incoherent condition, Laura suspected that Sam’s mental state was as bad, if not worse. Laura desperately wanted to help, but she had no idea where to even begin looking for her friend.

“I’m sorry, Brad,” Laura said helplessly. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but Sam sounded devastated.” She frowned worriedly. “I hate to think of her being alone, feeling like that.”

“So do I,” he said, his voice raw with pain. He reached around and wearily massaged his neck, his eyes desolate. “Look, Laura, if you hear from her, would you ask her to call me? Or find out where she is, at least?”

“I’ll do what I can, although I have a feeling she won’t call until she gets back. But if she’s going to miss Bible class I’m sure she’ll let me know,” she added hopefully.

Brad stared at her uncomprehendingly. “Bible class?”

Laura bit her lip and frowned at her indiscretion. “I wasn’t supposed to mention anything about that,” she said slowly.

“Sam goes with you to Bible class?” Brad repeated incredulously.

Laura nodded reluctantly. “She has been for months. But she didn’t want me to say anything.”

Brad closed his eyes, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. All these months, while he’d been wrestling with the notion of getting involved with someone who didn’t actively practice her faith, she’d been going to Bible class. Probably learning all about mercy and forgiveness and withholding judgment—the very principles he’d neglected to demonstrate last night, he thought bleakly.

He was a minister, a man who had dedicated his life to spreading the Lord’s principles, who preached every Sunday about the importance of living the words in the good book—not just reading them. Oh, he talked a good show. But when push came to shove, when he’d been dramatically called on to put those principles into action, he’d fallen short.

Brad shook his head helplessly. “I can’t believe how I failed her,” he said, his voice shadowed with despair and self-recrimination. “She needed support and understanding, and I just shut down. I don’t know how I can ever make it up to her.”

Laura reached over and once more touched his arm. “Brad, do you remember the sermon you gave last Christmas Eve?” she asked gently. “About mending relationships and saying ‘I’m sorry’? It gave me new hope when I needed it the most And those two words really do make a difference. Maybe you just need to follow your own advice.” She paused to pick up her purse, then turned to him again. “Call me if I can do anything to help, okay?” “I will. Thanks, Laura.”

Brad watched her leave and then sank down on the pew, his head bowed. It had taken him hours last night to sufficiently emerge from his shock to think coherently. He had spent the long, sleepless hours that followed pacing, trying to sort out his feelings. On the one hand, he was appalled by Sam’s story. The deaths of two young children, one yet unborn, was tragic. And the tragedy
was
her fault. That was the undeniable fact. There weren’t many things that tested Brad’s tolerance, but irresponsible behavior that hurt others was one of them.