On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20) (40 page)

Dropping a blob of jelly onto her toast, she admitted, “I don’t know that I’m in a good mood, just a better mood.”

“It’s about time. You had us a little worried.”

“I had me a little worried too. But I’ll be okay.”

“Glad to hear it.” Since Christmas Eve, he couldn’t get the image of her with Lucy out of his mind. They were so sweet together, and he had to imagine there would never be another Christmas Eve that he didn’t think of them and their tender moment there by the door. “Lucy sure loves you.”

“And I love her.” Resting the knife on her plate, she admitted, “Tuck, if we’ve ever done one thing right in our lives, it was deciding that you should do whatever it took to keep her.”

Tears sprang to his eyes. Looking away, he admitted, “I know that. I’m just so sorry I lost you in the process.”

“You didn’t lose me. I’m still here. It just looks different now.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even though her mood seemed brighter, upon closer inspection, he noticed that her eyes held the same sadness as Blue Christmas Chelsea’s. “Won’t you at least tell me what’s going on? How did things take such a sudden turn?” He suspected that maybe she heard from the old guy during the holidays, or that maybe she’d tried to call and he never called her back.

“Have you ever been so certain of something that you would nearly stake your life on it, or at least all your hopes, but then that moment comes and you realize you were wrong all along?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” If anyone did, he did. After Lindsey left, it was his only hope to have Chelsea back. How could he not relate? As for that moment arriving when you realized you were wrong, he’d experienced it so recently that it was still fresh and raw. All hopes for having Chelsea love him were gone. She was experiencing the same feeling and he could only ache even more inside knowing the pain she was enduring. He’d take it from her if he could.

“And just so you know, I’m sorry I haven’t been as good of a friend to you as Lucy. I could’ve learned from her.”

“What do you mean? You’re a great friend. Not many people would get out on Christmas Eve just to bring a tree.”

“No. What I mean is that I missed it this whole time, how much you still love the old guy. I’m sorry you’re hurting so much because of him.”

“It’s not exactly because of him, more like I finally
get it
that he’ll never be mine. Honestly, I really did believe he would come for me.” Chelsea looked away, tears filling her eyes. “I was stupid.”

As much as he wanted to reach for her, he didn’t. The sight of her big brown eyes filled with tears brought tears to his own. When she looked back at him, he assured her, “You are anything but stupid.”

Two days later, Tuck was standing in the lobby of the Keller Industries building. One of the security guys was making a call, kind of giving him a look like he was certain he didn’t belong. He didn’t. While he waited, he was still mulling over what he might say. In order to get out of town without Lucy knowing where he was going, which would have meant Chelsea knowing, he had to flat out lie to her. Ever since then he’d
felt sick about it. As much as he tried to recall, he had never lied to his daughter. Sure, he’d joked around about things, but never lied in such a way as he did when he said he was going to an auction for farm equipment. He would have to confess to Lucy when he returned home. If not, he’d never get out from under the weight of his deception.

Since buckling in on the plane, he’d tried to decide what to say to John. In all the months Chelsea had been home, Tuck’s greatest hope was that he would never show up, so to think he was flying out to ask John to come seemed ridiculous. But since looking into Chelsea’s eyes that morning over breakfast, he knew she deserved to be with the man she loved. As convinced as she was that John loved her in return, Tuck had to at least give it a try, to find out if he loved her or if maybe he’d really been using her all along. Once he met the guy, he’d know.

When Irene walked into his office and closed the door, John looked up. By the look on her face, he could see it was important. “What?”

“There’s someone downstairs to see you. He says he’s a friend of Chelsea’s.”

John’s heart sank. All he could think was that something bad had happened to her and someone was coming to tell him. Why that was his first thought he didn’t know, but he jumped from his chair and said, “Have him brought up.”

Pacing the room, John considered the possibilities. Maybe it was Bob. Maybe it was Bobby. Before he could come up with another option, a tall, broad shouldered, younger man came striding slowly into his office. Without a doubt, it was Tuck, and he looked almost exactly how John had him pictured, other than maybe more handsome. He was dressed as a ranch hand might in jeans and a button down plaid shirt. At that moment, John’s mind went blank, unable to come up with any reason at all why Tuck might be there to see him.

Holding out his hand, he said, “John Keller.”

Tuck grasped the offered hand and exclaimed, “Wow, you are old.”

In response to Tuck’s stinging comment, John took a step back.

“Sorry,” Tuck said, sincerely regretful. “It’s just that I’m surprised, that’s all.” He’d already gotten off to a rocky start. So when John offered
for him to sit, he did, and apologized again, this time adding that he just meant old for Chelsea, not old in general.

At the second apology, John smiled at his honesty and sat down across from him. As soon as he was seated, John realized he was in the same spot where Chelsea sat that very first day they met. In his mind he could see how she fidgeted with her hands in her nervousness. He would give a million dollars to reach out and touch those hands at that moment.

“So what brings you to LA?” John was understandably curious. The man he supposed would marry Chelsea someday sat across from him looking like the Marlboro man. Ironically, John figured Tuck was too young to even know who that was.

“I thought you might wanna know; she’s giving up on you.” When John looked away, clearly shaken by his words, Tuck added, “She’s been waiting all this time. Trust me. I know what waitin’ looks like.”

The reality of Tuck’s mission suddenly settled upon him. What he was doing would ensure that he would lose Chelsea for good. His hopes to be a family, Chelsea, Lucy, and himself were gone as soon as he opened his mouth. He could see by the pained expression on John’s face that he loved her as much as Chelsea believed he did.

There were many arguments that John wanted to make to justify his position, but he knew how flimsy they would all seem to Tuck. As young as Tuck was, he could hardly envision life twenty-five-years down the road. No man in his twenties could. So he said nothing. Instead, his mind returned to the sight of Chelsea fidgeting with her hands, clearly regretting her decision to come. He should have let her leave. No, he didn’t mean that at all, he quickly thought.

“Look, I want you to understand. I love her, and the last thing I’ve wanted was to see you show up. But now I realize, if you don’t, she may never be happy again.” Tuck stood and began to pace. All the things he practiced were not coming to mind, so he came out with, “The way I see it, she’ll eventually give up on you, and I’ll be waiting right there to pick up the pieces. Then I guess she’ll have to go through the grieving process, as if she’s not grieving enough already. But I mean when she really and truly gives up. I’ll wait that out too and be there for her. At some point, she will be ready to date again. And guess who’s there?”
Pointing to his chest with both thumbs, he answered his own question. “This guy.” Moving to sit down again, resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned in closer to John and admitted, “Here’s the problem with that, though: I know for certain she’ll never love me again, not the way she did before, and never the way she loves you now. I’ll live my life with a woman who considers me second best. Do I love her enough for that? Honestly, yes, I do. But I also love her enough to want to see her with first best.”

If John hadn’t felt sorry for Tuck when he heard how things ended with him and Chelsea, he did now. His honesty and sincerity was so emotional and heartfelt, John could clearly understand what Chelsea must have seen in him all those years ago. He was a good man, a man like he’d never been himself.

“That’s what I want, too. I’ve always wanted what’s best for her. Truthfully, I thought maybe that was you. I thought that if only she could reconnect with you, she’d at least have someone to grow old with.” He stopped abruptly, turning away. The image of Chelsea loving Tuck and offering herself to him caused the deepest sense of pain in John’s chest. Tuck was this big, strong, virile man, and he could easily envision Chelsea standing in his arms, clinging to him the way she once did him.

What John said, about thinking that maybe it was he who was best for Chelsea, for so many years he believed it too. And deep down, he still did, but ultimately, he wasn’t who she wanted. And that mattered. If the pained expression on John’s face were not proof enough, then the fact that he was willing to walk away from her for the reasons he said did prove he loved her as much as she believed. All those months, that’s what she kept holding onto, her certainty that he loved her.

When Tuck said nothing, John admitted, “I can hardly stand the thought of her being tied down to me when she’s still young. Right now it may not matter to her, but eventually it will.”

“If that’s what you believe, then you hardly know her at all.” Leaning back in his chair, Tuck slung his ankle over his knee and tried to collect his thoughts. Finally, he said, “I’ve been thinking about this since I had breakfast at her place the other day.”

John winced at the thought of Tuck there with Chelsea eating breakfast. Why would he have been there for breakfast? The vision of her standing in his arms resurfaced.

“She has this sign that says, ‘Life’s short, eat dessert first.’ Ya know, she’s always lived her life with that outlook. Even as a kid, she wanted the best first. If you asked her if she wanted the good news or bad news, she always wanted the good first. Her belief was that once she had the good, she would have the heart to deal with the bad. It’s the same with you.

“If you are with her now, that’ll be like having dessert first, having the one she really wants. Yes, she’ll likely have to eat her spinach later, but if you give her the choice, she’d rather have the certainty of this crazy love now. And honestly, your love is pretty crazy with you being old enough to be her dad. But she doesn’t care about that. She loves you, and I’m afraid she’s about to stop living because of it.

“Sure, there’s the reality that she’ll have to let you go earlier than someone her own age. But who’s to say she will ever find someone else? And if she does, what if it’s just
okay
love, not the love she feels for you? So either way there’s no guarantee that she’ll end up happy. What you’re doing by trying to give her a better future – and I see that you mean well – but it very well may blow up in
her
face. Does that make sense?”

“It makes a great deal of sense.” On their first date she said those exact words, “
Life is short, eat dessert first
.” Who would have ever suspected those words would be the ones to bring him to his senses? Over the past months, his certainty was that Chelsea would find someone else. To him it seemed inevitable. Never had he considered her future the way Tuck did. What if, because he’d so hurt her, she never allowed anyone close enough again? What if she ended up alone, or worse, with someone she didn’t love or who didn’t love her the way he did?

After a few minutes more, Tuck was gone, leaving John time to ponder the things he’d said. What stuck with him most was the phrase, “if you give her the choice.” It reminded him of what his dad had said about taking away her voice. He’d done both of those things, stripped her of the choice and allowed her no say in the matter. In the past months, he found he regretted that the most.

For the remainder of the afternoon, he sat with those thoughts, until finally he left the office and headed for home. Mark had grown accustomed to him spending less time at work. As a matter of fact, Mark encouraged it. Always he was willing to step in and earn his title, but John had taken such control that Mark never felt quite as capable. He trusted Mark to maintain what he’d built since it meant so little anymore. If a few things were overlooked, life would go on. The business would survive it. Some weeks, between his work at the Harvest House and his time at church, John barely put in a forty-hour week. Since graduating college, he’d never put in less than fifty to sixty hours a week, other than when Tracy died.

It was Wednesday night, and once he left the office, he went by the condo to pack a bag and then to the airport. Within two hours, he was driving along his parents’ driveway. Knowing they would be at church, he went into the house and immediately up to Chelsea’s room, glad to be alone with her memory. Sitting on the side of the bed, he began to pray, deliberating, asking if he might ever be good enough for her. All he could wonder was what it might take to deserve her. His dad said godliness. Maybe that was it. Whatever the answer, whatever the investment, he was willing to make it.

In the past few months, his life had altered so drastically that he truly felt that sense of being
that new creation in Christ
he’d read about. What used to drive him, that desire to be better, no longer had the same hold on him. It was just before Christmas when he felt the Lord dealing with him strongly on the matter. The original need to feel good enough eventually began to take on an entirely different dimension in his heart. Over the years, John went from wanting to feel good enough to needing to feel better. He worked longer hours so that he was the best at what he did. Every moment for him was another opportunity to make another dollar so that he would know he was better. Eventually, he bought his own hype. He felt better, better than his dad, than Mark, better than the guys who went home early, better than the poor slobs who settled for less because they didn’t have what it took to pursue more. That left him fifty years old and alone, with the exception of two aging parents. For that
matter, parents who had always had enough because they had each other. Everyone around him was smart enough to see it. How had he missed it?