The Perfect Life (19 page)

He caressed her hair with one hand, held her close with the other. “You know Hayley. When she thinks she's right, it's her way or the highway.”

“She thinks all men will cheat if a woman is willing.”

“She's wrong about that. Not all men. I wouldn't, and I don't think your dad would either.”

Emma sniffed.“Hayley wants Mom to get a divorce, and she's mad at her for not leaving Dad already.”

“We'll pray it doesn't come to that.”

Emma lifted her head from her husband's chest so she could look him in the eyes. “Do you think it will?”

“No.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I don't think it will.”

She released a deep breath.“Hayley blames Dad for her losing the baby because of that reporter. But she hadn't been feeling well even before that happened. She told me so.”

“I know.”

“It wasn't his fault, but I'm not sure she'll ever admit it.”

Jason cupped her chin with his hand as he leaned in.“Don't worry about tomorrow. Today has enough trouble of its own. Give God some time to work. He's got plans we don't know anything about. You'll see.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I love you.”

“Love you back.”

Twenty-four

GOING TO CHURCH THAT SUNDAY WAS BOTH BETTER AND
worse than I'd anticipated.

Friends expressed how good it was to see me again and murmured those expected words of encouragement, saying they were praying for us and that they knew the truth would come out. Some took my hand and squeezed my fingers, gestures of love and comfort. I received several warm hugs from women who'd attended my Bible study through the years. Likewise, there were men extending hands of friendship to Brad.

But there were also those who stared and whispered. I knew what they thought. I could guess what they said. I was aware of them even when I didn't look around.

We didn't sit in our usual place. That was my choice. As soon as we entered the sanctuary, I slipped into the back row. Brad gave me a questioning glance, but I ignored him. After a moment, he sat beside me. I leaned toward the opposite side of my chair, ensuring our shoulders wouldn't touch.

Help me, Lord.

If ever I'd come to church needing to hear from God, it was today. I needed Him to tell me what to do, what to say, where to go, how to survive until my world was set to right again.

It would be set to right again, wouldn't it?

Desert experiences. I'd heard people talk about them throughout my Christian walk, but I hadn't understood what they meant until now. Not only was the desert hot and dry, it was barren and lonely. God was absent in the desert place.

Where are You?

The worship team began singing an up-tempo song. Out of habit, I stood, but there was no melody in my heart, no words of praise in my mouth. The desert had dried me to dust.

It's too hard, God. You're asking too much. Rescue me.

Eyes closed, I admitted an unpleasant truth that I'd done my best to ignore for weeks:my faith was not what I'd thought it was. It wasn't strong and victorious. It wasn't unshakeable. It hadn't been tested. Perhaps God had spared me the testing because He knew how utterly I would fail, the way I was failing now.

Wasn't a faltering marriage enough without a faltering faith too?

Silence was our partner as we drove home an hour and a half later. In the past, this was when Brad would share something specific from the sermon that had challenged or enlightened him. But today he was quiet. Perhaps he'd heard no more of the service than I had.

I glanced toward him. His brow was furrowed, eyes squinting against the sunlight. What was he thinking? I wondered.

There was a time, not long before, when I would have ventured to guess his thoughts. I'd believed he was an open book to me, his wife. How wrong could a woman be? Even if he hadn't been unfaithful, as he insisted, he'd still kept secrets.

I turned my head to look out the window at the passing street scene. Tidy houses in established neighborhoods. Tall, leafy trees casting shadows over rooftops. Lawns in deep shades of green, many of them freshly mown. Flowers abloom around foundations and along walkways. I'd paid little attention to my yard this spring. Had weeds overtaken my flower gardens?

“Hayley and Steve weren't in church today,”Brad said, breaking the silence.

I turned from the window to look at him.

His gaze remained on the street. “Have you talked to either of them in the last few days?”

“No. I left a message for Hayley on her voice mail, but I haven't heard back.”

“She hasn't returned my calls either.” He paused, then said, “I'm worried about her.”

I was worried too. Hayley was depressed about the baby and angry with her father and me. Because of her anger I hadn't been allowed to mourn with her over the grandchild I would never hold, the child she would never see grow up. I pushed the switch to lower my window, needing fresh air on my face. I was grateful to see we were on our street now. We would be home soon. I wanted out of the car, out of the thick, uncomfortable silence that had returned to sit between us.

Secrets and silence. That's what my life had become.

Twenty-five

MUSIC DRIFTED FROM THE PORTABLE CD PLAYER AS I
knelt beside my rose bushes, perspiration trickling down the sides of my face. The heat of early afternoon felt more like midsummer than the middle of May. I raised my shoulders, one at a time, and wiped away the dampness on the short sleeves of my shirt.

Just a little more weeding, I thought, and I would take a short break. A tall glass of iced tea in the shade of the covered patio sounded ideal right about then.

A car pulled into the driveway, and I turned to see who it was—friend or foe. Annabeth Sorenson. Friend.

She waved as she got out of her car. “Hi, Katherine.”

“Hi, Annabeth.” I rose to my feet.

“I hope you don't mind my dropping by like this.”

“Of course not.”

“I saw you at church yesterday, but you left before I got a chance to talk to you.”

I offered a brief smile as she walked toward me but gave no explanation for our quick departure.

Her eyes studied me. “How are you doing?”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

I wasn't a very good liar. “Well enough.”

“Can I intrude upon your gardening?” She motioned toward the rose bushes. “I promise not to stay long.”

“I was about to take a break anyway. Come inside, and I'll pour us both a glass of iced tea.”

“Thanks. That sounds wonderful. I can't believe how warm it is, and summer hasn't even begun yet.”

I turned off the CD player on my way into the house, Annabeth following close behind. We went into the kitchen, and she sat on a chair at the table while I took two tall glasses from the cupboard, dropped in a few ice cubes, and filled them with tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator. I took the glasses to the table, then made a second trip for the sugar bowl and a saucer of sliced lemons.

Before I sat down across from her, I asked, “Would you like milk or artificial sweetener? I have both.”

“No.” She waved her hand. “This is perfect. Really. I didn't come over to have you wait on me.”

I sat across from her.

“I've been worried about you, Katherine.”

I sipped my tea.

“I learned last week from Martha Egbert that you've canceled your Bible study.”

I shook my head. My shoulders tightened. “Not canceled, Annabeth. I decided to begin our summer break earlier than usual. We'll resume again in the fall.”

“Oh, dear.” She leaned against the back of her chair. “I didn't mean to sound like I disapproved of your decision. I don't. It's just . . . It's just I think you need these women to gather around you right now. Even if they only came over to pray for you each week.”

Did my smile look as forced as it felt?

“You and Brad are so dear to us, Katherine.”

“You and Mike are dear to us too.” I focused my eyes on the ice cubes floating in my tea.

“Naturally, Mike hasn't told me anything Brad's shared in their sessions together, but I know it isn't easy for a man to go through something like this.”

Sessions together?

Why that surprised me I couldn't say. It was the most natural thing in the world for a man to meet with his pastor, especially in times of trouble. And my husband was without a doubt in trouble. Still, it did surprise me that he'd met with Mike. He hadn't mentioned it even once, but according to Annabeth, there had been multiple sessions. And yet I knew nothing.

Secrets.More secrets between us.

“It can't be easy for you either.” Annabeth reached across the table and touched the back of my hand. “Your church family wants to help carry the burden in whatever way we can. God doesn't mean for us to go it alone in this life. Promise me you won't do that.”

I released a shudder of air. “I promise, Annabeth. But really, we're doing fine. Our attorney told us last week that the AG should be nearing a decision in the next week or two. He doesn't anticipate the investigation will go any further.”

“Yes, I read that in Saturday's paper. That's good news.”

I continued as if she hadn't spoken. “Brad is working again so we don't have any financial concerns.” That was stretching the truth a bit. “I'm sure the whole mess will blow over soon.”

If she didn't believe me, she was gracious enough not to say it aloud. She allowed me to stay wrapped in the tatters of my dignity.

Over the next half hour, she asked after Hayley and Emma and their husbands, shared some about an upcoming mission trip to Africa, and finally offered to pray for me. When she finished, I walked with her to the door and thanked her for coming. She held my hand and kissed my cheek, told me again how loved I was, then said good-bye and walked to her car.

I cast a quick glance at the CD player on the sidewalk and the garden trowel waiting for me near the rose bushes. But I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

You're turning into a slug.

I returned to the kitchen for a quick cleanup and was almost finished when the phone rang. Caller ID showed an unfamiliar number and no name. I almost let it go to the machine, then at the last moment picked up.

“Hello.”

“Is this Mrs. Clarkson?”

“Yes.”

“I'm Doug Norton, the foreman on the job your husband's working.”

“Yes?”

“There's been an accident on the site. Brad's on his way to the hospital.”

I sank onto a chair, nearly missing it. I grabbed for the edge of the seat to keep myself from toppling to the floor. “What happened? Is he—”

“He's not in any danger, I don't think. But he's kinda busted up. His leg's broke for sure.”

A breath escaped me.