Tender Vow (7 page)

“Absolutely,” her mother said at her request. “We love taking them, but, honey, why don’t you come and stay, as well? A change of scenery would do you good. Dad and I can watch the kids; you can just relax.”

The offer sounded tempting, but Rachel knew that Johnny’s persistent cries and Meagan’s boundless energy would still grate on her nerves. What she needed was a twenty-four-hour escape from single parenting.

“I just need a little time to myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Falling apart better described her current state. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You could always call one of your friends to come keep you company. I bet Allie Ferguson would love to come by for a visit.”

“Mom, I don’t need your advice.”

“Oh. Well, of course, you don’t.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be short with you. I’m just so…exhausted.” When her mother didn’t readily respond, Rachel sighed. “I need you to be strong for me right now, okay?”

“Honey, I’m trying to, but you’re scaring me. I just have to say that.”

Rachel forced a little bounce into her words. “Well, stop worrying. I told you, I just need a little time, like twenty-four hours, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I understand that,” Arlene said after a little pause. “I don’t have to work tomorrow, so it’s really perfect for me to keep the kids overnight. I’ll be right over. How’s that?”

“Great. Thanks, Mom. You’re a gem.”

Within the hour, her mother came by to pick up the kids, scooping up little Johnny and taking Meagan by the hand. Rachel followed them out to the car with the diaper bag and Meagan’s little “Going to Grandma’s” suitcase. She hugged them and kissed their soft cheeks, buckled them in place, and then stood in the rain, waving and watching, until they disappeared around the bend. After that, she scuffled back into the house, but the sudden quiet didn’t afford her the immediate relief she sought. Instead, it produced an intense heaviness, like the sensation of being wrapped in a wool blanket on a warm night, prickly and oppressed.

Oh, for a strong hand—someone purposeful and levelheaded. Yes, she had her loving parents, but they tended to coddle her and try to fix everything, and, when they failed, they grew fretful, weighing down even more her already weary shoulders. Her in-laws were great, but they had lost their son. How could she look to them for courage when they needed it about as much as she did? This was true of her mother-in-law, in particular. Her father-in-law possessed an uncanny strength, but with it came a certain firmness that made Rachel leery. He loved her, yes, but from afar, always expressing deep regard for her well-being but never quite knowing the right words to say. Even her best friend, Allie, had no clue how to help. When it came down to it, no one did.

Lately, she worried about everything: her children, her inability to parent, her confusion about the future, her lack of energy. Why, even her milk production had slowed, increasing her feelings of inadequacy and forcing her to start using formula, which wasn’t all bad, just another disappointment. And then, there was the matter of her morose spirit, which produced the disquieting notion that haunted her in the middle of each sleepless night—the thought that her children might be better off without her.

The phone rang at nine thirty, rousing her from the place on the couch where she’d planted herself several hours before. Immediately, she worried that something terrible had happened. What kind of mother was she not to have called to check on her children?

She snagged the phone after it rang a second time. “Mom? Are the kids all right?”

“Rachel?” She recognized the voice instantly—calm, quiet, temperate. Ever so briefly, her shoulders sagged with relief before agitation set in. She couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to talk to less than Jason Evans. Forcing out a greeting seemed as if it would take the same amount of energy required to push a wheelbarrow full of rocks up a steep incline.

“Are you there?”

She breathed a sigh. “Yes.”

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. What do you want?”

“Hello to you, too. Did I wake you up or something? You sound groggy.”

Glancing across the room, she noticed that the television was on, but the sound was off. She had no recollection of pressing the mute button. “I…I was just resting.”

“Long day?” he asked.

Another sigh leaked out. “I guess.”

“So, the kids are at your mom’s, I presume?”

She could have kicked her own behind for not checking the caller ID before picking up the phone. “Yeah. I needed a little break.”

“That seems reasonable. It must be hard playing the parts of both parents.”

“Jason, what do you want?” she repeated.

The pause on the other end unnerved her. “I want to help, Rach. I think John would want it. He’d even expect it.”

She folded her lower lip between her teeth and applied pressure as he continued. “This has been hard on me, too, Rachel. I lost my only brother and my best friend, and, some days, my heart feels like it’s been stomped on by a herd of hippos. But I put one foot in front of the other and keep on going. It’s been tough returning home, facing reality, but I’m back, Rachel, and I’m availing myself to you. I mean it. I want to do what I can.”

“You mean you want to do penance. You feel guilty for John’s death, you pity our plight, and stepping in on John’s behalf will appease that.” When had she become so snide and stonyhearted?

She heard his long intake of breath, sensed him holding it till his face went red. “You can say and think what you want; that’s your right, but it doesn’t change anything for me. I saw issues around your house that need tending, and I have the expertise to take care of them.”

“I don’t—”

“And you can hold your arguments, young lady. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“You’re a stubborn coot,” she muttered.

His chuckle was low and throaty. “Always have been.”

She stared across the room at the fireplace screen, which was covered with fingerprints, and thought about her next words. “I hate being a widow.” A tear slid down her face and her throat clogged. “Sometimes, I can’t take it. I’m lonely, Jason. I’m lost, heartbroken, mad as all get-out, and downright sick of life!”

“You’re not alone, Rachel; you’re never alone. God is sitting there with you right now.”

God.
The name seemed somehow foreign to her, breeding mountains of guilt in her soul. And since when had her brother-in-law taken up preaching? Had Jason Evans, the die-hard party boy, found the Lord? Her cynical attitude bit through her core.
Lord, I’ve drifted away from Your presence. Please forgive me
, she prayed silently, then said, “Listen to you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you found the Lord.”

“And you’d be right. I got acquainted with Him not long after John’s accident.”

“Really?” She stretched her legs out in front of her, fanning her toes and making a mental note to remove the chipping nail polish. “Is this a ploy to pacify your conscience, Jason, or are you sincere?” Could she have been any more snide?

A tiny pause on the other end had her nearly apologizing, but not quite. “It’s the real deal, Rach,” he said, his voice quiet yet firm. “I reached a point where life got a little too crazy, and I had to step back and evaluate my goals. I came to find out that my priorities needed a good shuffling. Losing my brother…well, that started to put things into perspective. Instead of crawling out of bed to crack open a beer these days, I’m cracking open God’s Word. I’m changed, Rach. I’ve traded in the old me.”

She wondered why she found it hard to believe him. “How come you didn’t mention it when you came over last Sunday?”

“I guess I hoped maybe you’d sense something different about me without my bringing it up.”

She scrunched her eyes shut to push back her annoying tears. She had nothing to say in response because she had no desire to continue the conversation.

“What about you, Rachel? Are you keeping that Bible dusted off?”

“I’m very tired, Jason. Thank you for calling, but I just don’t feel like talking right now.”

“Then when?”

She relieved an itchy spot on her forehead with a swipe of her fingernails and sighed into the receiver. “I have no idea. I just…I don’t feel like talking. Matter of fact, I don’t feel like much of anything these days.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, leave me alone, would you?”

“Rachel.” His voice sounded all gentle and caressing. Blast him!

“I’m going to bed now. With a little luck, maybe I won’t wake up.”

She hadn’t meant it, of course, not one bit of it, and yet the stupid sentence trailed off her lips, anyway. Naturally, there’d be repercussions.

“Rachel!” The pliant tone was gone.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She hadn’t—had she?

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

Yes, why?
“I have no idea. It was just a slip of the tongue, okay?”

“A bad one. Now, you’ve got me worried.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Jason, you’re turning into a pest, you know that?”

“Have you talked to anyone…about your feelings?” he asked, passing over her remark.

“As in a grief counselor, you mean? Not that it’s any of your business, but, yes, I have. I’m in a support group at church.” Of course, she wouldn’t mention that she’d missed the last few sessions. Even though her friends and parents all readily offered at different times to watch the kids so that she could attend the weekly meetings, she’d begun to find them tedious and had started making excuses for not going.

“That’s good. I have, too.”

Briefly, she wondered what he’d learned at his meetings and whether they’d helped him cope, but she chose not to inquire, drawing her knees up to her chin now and hugging them. “Good for you. Look, I’ve got to go, okay?”

“Mind if I call you again?”

“Yes, I do, actually. I’d rather you left me alone.”

“Sorry, I’m gonna continue making a pest of myself.”

“Please don’t.”

“Rachel, I—”

“Good night, Jason.” She put the receiver in its cradle, and when the phone rang a couple of seconds later, she ignored it.

***

Just after eleven that night, Jason found himself on Rachel’s front porch, pressing the doorbell and pacing with impatience. When she didn’t answer, he put his hand on the doorknob and turned, finding it unlocked.
Crazy lady doesn’t even lock her front door!
He entered through the well-lit living room. The couch looked rumpled and was stacked with pillows, a balled-up blanket, and a wrinkled magazine. He wasn’t the best housekeeper, himself, but he knew Rachel. Before John’s passing, she’d been a regular neatnik.

Like a spy on reconnaissance, he skulked across the room, into the kitchen, back out through the formal dining room, and then down the hallway, past a powder room and a spare bedroom, its door open to a bunch of boxes, stacks of unfolded clothing, toys, books, and other things he couldn’t even name.
This must be the catchall room
, he figured. John would have had a fit. He’d liked order, not chaos. This was Chaos with a capital C. Another light glowed at the end of the hallway, but the house remained as quiet as a morgue.

“Rachel?” he called, tuning his ears for the slightest sound.

Nothing.

Any other time, he wouldn’t have fretted, but in view of the way she’d sounded earlier, he didn’t like the feel of things. Turning, he headed around the corner and up the stairs, tripping over a stuffed animal and then kicking it. If she’d gone to bed, why had she left half the lights on? He climbed the stairs two at a time, huffing when he reached the top. A hasty glance in Meagan’s room revealed no Rachel, so he moved down the hall. Just then, a door swung open, and Rachel emerged, wet hair dripping, long robe dragging on the floor, bare toes peeking out. One look at him, and she released an earsplitting, spine-tingling, roof-raising scream.

He grabbed her to him, muffling the sound with his shoulder. “Rachel, it’s me,” he said soothingly into her ear. “Shh. You’ll wake up the whole town.” She fought him wildly with both arms, flailing her fists until he grabbed hold and secured them tightly between his hands. When she settled down, he eased his grip on her wrists, but she broke free and unleashed her anger by giving him a good pound on the chest.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Jason Evans!” she yelled. “You scared me to death!”

“Well, don’t leave your front door unlocked, woman! Don’t you know how dangerous that is? I don’t care if you live in a nice, quiet neighborhood; you should have your door locked at all times, even during the day. No telling who could come walking in. There’re a lot of weirdos out there.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” she remarked, looking him up and down with disdain before giving him a stinging slap on the arm and stepping away. “What in the world are you doing here at this time of night, anyway?”

“I didn’t like your tone on the phone. You sounded stressed. And when you made that comment about wishing you wouldn’t wake up in the morning, it got me all worked up. I’ve spent the better part of the last hour worrying about you—and breaking the speed limit because of it, I’ll have you know.”

She shrugged and headed toward the stairs. He followed like a wounded pup. “I have no idea why I said that,” she said with a slight toss of her head. “It was stupid.”

“Yeah, it was.”

At the foot of the stairs, she bent to straighten a pair of shoes, as if that would fix everything else. Then she padded down the hall to the kitchen.

“I understand your feeling desperate, Rachel,” he said, still following her, “but don’t say rash things unless you want people to knock down your door. Stuff like that tends to make a person a little crazy.” He leaned his body in the doorframe, every nerve alert as he watched her open the fridge and take out a bottle of grape juice. Relief surged through his veins. He couldn’t live another minute if something happened to her. “You will get through this, you know.”

“What makes you the expert?” She opened a cupboard door and took out a drinking glass. “Care for some juice?”