A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace (32 page)

John was suddenly nervous, anxious to be on his way to the appointment with the attorney. Where could this meeting with Charlene possibly go, anyway? He waited for her to continue.

She crossed her arms, her face more serious than before. “I’ve been given a job offer.”

John’s heart lurched. She wouldn’t move away, would she? Charlene had finished her administrative credentials the year before and had put out feelers in local school districts. Her goal was to take an assistant principal position somewhere in Marion. “That’s great.” He searched her eyes, looking for clarification.

Charlene’s hands came together, and she dropped her gaze. “The job’s in Chicago, John. Someone at the district office told the staff up there I was looking.” She brought her eyes up again, and he could see how strongly she was struggling. “It’s a good offer.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and he fought with himself. Why were his feelings for Charlene all over the board? One minute he was wishing he’d never met her, the next wishing he could . . . “Is it what you want?” If it was, he could hardly stand in her way.

She exhaled through pursed lips and a sadness filled her eyes. “I want you, John Reynolds. If I have to wash dishes for a living.”

Well, there it was. So why did her words make his heart feel like it was being squeezed by a vice grip? There was something she wasn’t saying. “But . . .”

“But if you don’t see yourself . . . having a future with me . . .” Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled a neatly folded tissue from her purse, dabbing at the wetness before it could mar her perfect makeup job. “Then I have no choice but to go. To start life over somewhere without you.”

Once, a long time ago, John had seen a movie where a man was trapped in a shrinking corridor, where both walls were moving slowly in on him. Now, with all that was looming in his life, John knew how the man felt. His shoulders slumped. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me you feel the same way I do, that you see us together when this mess you’re going through is finally behind you.” Her answer was quick, and he saw in her eyes that she cared enough for him to turn down any job, to call him at home even when it meant making him angry, to risk getting caught kissing him in his classroom—clearly a violation of school policy. The truth was simple. She thought she was in love with him, and if he were willing, she would gear the rest of her life around him.

She was young and pretty, bright and incredibly devoted to him. In her presence he felt loved and appreciated and full of life. So why didn’t he jump at the chance she was offering him?

Was it the fact that he wasn’t legally divorced yet that held him back? Was it his faith? Or was it the way she’d come across as manipulative and pushy lately? His feelings were so jumbled he had no answers for her. “You know how I feel about you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Her tone had gone from troubled and sincere to impatient. “Am I part of your future?
That’s
what I need to know.”

John thought about her question. He did care deeply for her . . . didn’t he? Hadn’t she been the one willing to put her life on hold while he sorted out the details of his divorce? Wasn’t she the one who had been his friend, his confidante and ally, while Abby drew further away with each passing year? He thought about the pain in Abby’s eyes when Charlene had called at the house the other day. Was that why Abby had stopped being his friend? Because she felt replaced by Charlene?

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be away from her, by himself where he could sift through his emotions.

“When do you have to let them know?” He gathered his posters and felt her eyes follow him.

“The end of July.”

The end of July. There wasn’t any way the timing could be more perfect.
Like trading Abby’s dreams in for Charlene’s.
He winced inwardly and forced the thought from his mind. “Give me some time, okay? I’ll let you know before the wedding.”

“If you want me, John, I’m staying.”

He had nothing more to say to her. Instead he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to run.” Divorce attorneys charged by the hour. He stood and grabbed a few files and his car keys, leaving Charlene alone in his classroom without so much as a good-bye.

As John climbed into his truck he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and wondered at the man he’d become. His older son was graduating the next day, and a few weeks after that he would walk his only daughter down the aisle and hand her over in marriage. But here, in the hours before the milestones his family had waited a lifetime for, he’d allowed himself to be swept into a wave of passion that but for his weakly uttered prayer would have led . . . where? Would he have cancelled his appointment and followed her home? Allowed his passions to dictate his actions as though he didn’t have a responsibility in the world?

He thought of his prayer again and how the blaring office message had broken the spell, changed the moment so that he could think clearly again. A shudder went over him at the thought of what might have happened.

Then it hit him.

What was the difference? Whether he gave in to Charlene now or later, he was still destroying something he’d vowed to keep forever, burying for all time the dreams of Abby and Nicole and Kade and Sean. Who was he kidding?

The image of Abby’s father and his final request filled his mind:
“Love her . . . love her . . . love her.”

He pushed the gas pedal down and felt the truck pick up speed. The plans were already in motion, too far gone to change despite distant holy whisperings or graduations or weddings or deathbed promises made about honoring his marriage. It was too late for any of it. His marriage was terminally ill, and in a few minutes he would take part in the only thing left to do.

Sit down with an attorney and draw up the death certificate.

Twenty

F
OR THE MOST PART
D
ENNY
C
ONLEY WAS NOT
a nervous man. After all he’d found the nerve to stand in front of his Twelve-Step group and tell the whole wretched story of how he’d drunk away his early years of being a father, how he’d walked out on Jo and Matt when the kid was barely old enough to remember him. Not only that, but in the past year he’d been bold enough to tell a whole congregation that he, Denny Conley, was a sinner and needed a Savior.

The boldness, he’d learned, came from God and not himself, and that was a good thing. That kind of power would never let him down.

But none of that mattered now as he followed the final directions to Nicole Reynolds’s house. He was shaking like a leaf, and only the grace of God kept him from flipping a U-turn and heading back home, an hour south.

The meeting had been Matt’s idea.

“Dad, don’t wait ’til the wedding.” His son’s voice had been filled with such sincerity that this time it was Denny who’d been choked up. “Come to the graduation party. There’ll be lots of people; you’ll fit right in.”

Denny gulped.
Calm me down, Lord. Calm me down.

He’d seen pictures of Matt of course, but he hadn’t looked into his son’s eyes since the boy was four years old. Hadn’t felt those young arms around his neck or wrestled with his son or brushed his fingers against the boy’s hair. Hadn’t loved him the way a father should. A gust of shame blew through his beat-up Ford, and he shook his head.

“Kid must be crazy,” Denny mumbled out loud as he changed lanes. “Shouldn’t be givin’ me the time of day.”

It was another one of the benefits of following after Jesus, the rewards Pastor Mark had talked about back when Denny first made his decision. The idea that he might actually have a second chance with his boy, a chance to know him and love him like he should have done at the start, was almost more than Denny could imagine.

No doubt it was the reason he was fighting the shakes. After nearly twenty years he was about to be a father again. Not only that, but he was going to meet the pretty little thing who was marrying his boy. She was a smart one, just like Matt, and she came from good people—parents who’d loved each other since the beginning of time.

Parents like he and Jo might have been if he’d done things differently.

Denny eased up on the gas pedal at the thought of Jo. With all the excitement of seeing Matt again, he’d done everything he could to keep from thinking about the woman to whom he’d once promised forever. He glanced at the directions. Right turn at the light, four blocks to the lake. Left, and the Reynoldses’ house was third on the right. He’d be there in two minutes.

The best news of all, of course, was that Jo had actually given her heart to God, too. Two decades after scattering into the world, the members of the Denny Conley family had each found their way home to the Savior. That fact alone was proof that God was real and that He listened to the prayers of His people—even those in the off-key voices of one like himself, those with so little to offer.

Denny was more nervous than ever before, if that were possible, but nothing could replace the deep-rooted joy that grew in his gut like an everlasting flame. He was going to see his wife and son again! Going to hold them, feel them snug in his arms. Denny’s heart pounded so hard he was surprised he couldn’t see it pushing its way out of his chest with every beat. He made the final turn and saw twenty or so cars gathered around one of the driveways.

The Reynoldses’ home.
Here I go, Lord. Walk before me.

He ran a hand over his slicked-back hair and moved quickly now, as though he were leaving everything about his old life behind and moving into some new, brighter existence with every step.

Jo Harter had been anchored in a chair by the front window, glancing out every minute or so and searching the street for the old beater Denny drove. Matt had described it, and then fiddlesticks if he wasn’t able to let it go at that. None of this hanging-around-the-window routine for Matt.

The party was in full swing, people gathered in pockets throughout the house, celebrating young Kade Reynolds’s graduation. That boy had a real good future set before him for sure, and Jo’d made a point of telling him so when she first arrived. After that she’d found Matt and asked for the tenth time when Denny was set to arrive.

“Mom, he said he wasn’t sure.” Matt grinned at her as though somehow their roles had reversed, making him the patient adult and her the pesky child.

Come on, get here, Denny . . .

She’d no sooner thought the words than she saw a car like the one Matt described move slowly past, turn around, and stop not far from the house. Jo held her breath as he climbed out and headed for the house. He looked just like she remembered him. Not much taller than herself, dark hair—what was left of it—and just enough bowlegged that she could pick him out in a crowd. A catch if ever she saw one.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Jo nearly danced across the living room to the front door and swung it open. “Denny!”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes locked onto hers while a full-bore grin spread across his face. It punctuated his cheeks with the cutest dimples Jo had ever seen, and suddenly she was in his arms, certain beyond words that the marvelous God they served had pulled off nothing less than a miracle.

He put his hands along either side of her face and studied her like a winning lottery ticket. “Jo . . . I’ve missed you, sweetie. I can’t believe I’m here.”

There were a hundred things Jo had hoped to say but none of them was right at hand except a few simple words: “Welcome home, Denny Conley.”

Once again his smile lit up the late afternoon. “Thank you, Jo. And now I believe I have a son to see.”

Abby surveyed the dwindling party guests from the doorway of the kitchen and her gaze fell on Jo and Denny, deep in conversation with Matt and Nicole. They looked awfully cozy. Was it possible that life was going to turn out right for Jo and her beloved Denny after so many years? She remembered Jo’s monologue about her ex-husband and how she’d hoped to lose ten pounds in order to catch his eye at the wedding.

She watched Jo’s eyes sparkle and saw the way she spoke to the man she clearly still loved. The woman might have lost weight in the past few months, but it wasn’t what she’d lost that had Denny Conley hanging on her every word.

It was what she’d gained.

Abby sighed and turned back into the kitchen.
How come Jo’s faith
seems more real than mine, God? She’s only believed for a few months.

Silence.

Abby grabbed a stack of empty platters and began wiping them down in the sink. It wasn’t fair. She and John had been faithful all their lives, teaching their children about walking with God, building a relationship with Him, worshiping Him. But now, when it mattered most, their faith was like a corroded, dead battery. Incapable of giving off any power at all.

Washing dishes was mindless enough, and she listened to conversations in the adjacent room as she worked.

“So, Kade, tell me it isn’t true about your sister.” Abby recognized the voice of Dennis Steinman, one of Kade’s football buddies. “She isn’t really marrying someone else, is she?”

“Yeah, in four weeks.” Kade’s tone was light and full of laughter. The party was already a huge success, graced by the presence of friends, teachers, and townspeople who had been a part of Kade’s life since he was a young child.

“Come on, I thought she was waiting for me. She loved me, man.”

“No, Steiner, that wasn’t love. It was pity.”

Laughter erupted among the friends, and Abby thought back to earlier that afternoon and the graduation ceremony. John had been one of the teachers asked to stay near the student section, so Abby and the others sat together without him. She had glanced at him every now and then and knew his attention couldn’t have been farther from the students. It was all focused on Kade, his older son, his star quarterback . . . and Abby’s gut had ached at the loss John must have been feeling that afternoon. There was always pain in bidding good-bye to a senior player, someone John had worked with three, sometimes four years straight.

But losing Kade . . .