We were so proud when we brought Arianna home from the hospital. I rocked her until late into the night. Then I laid her gently in the cradle Rick made for her.
The cradle. Where is that? I need to see it. In a frenzy, I toss boxes and keepsakes here and there. If anyone saw me in such a state, they’d think I had lost my mind.
I expel a relieved sigh when I spot the wooden cradle tucked between an old bookcase and a footlocker my grandfather used during the Korean War. I kneel beside the little bed and run my hand along the curved headboard. It rocks a slightly crooked arc. I remember how proud Rick was when he showed this to me for the first time. His baby would sleep in something he made with his own hands. Something that cost him more than money—which was good because we never could have afforded to buy a cradle back then.
Rick’s new baby will have anything he or she could possibly dream of. I can only imagine the layette Darcy is planning.
A twinge of something akin to pity pinches me. Darcy won’t see the joy of a young husband presenting her with something like this.
I’m still feeling sorry for them when a thought comes to me. I reject this unwelcome scenario immediately. But it returns with more force.
Let it go, Claire. It’s time to let it go once and for all.
I know that sweet, still voice. And I’m filled with a sense of awe to be on the Lord’s radar. Still, He’s asking me to do something I don’t know that I have the strength to do.
My grace is sufficient.
I rest my head on top of the cradle and tears slip down my cheeks as I picture each of my babies lying there. In the cradle made with their daddy’s hands.
My heart softens toward Rick. He truly did set out to be the best husband and father he could be. Life happens. Hurt happens. We say things we don’t mean. Things we regret but are too stubborn to take back.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. It wasn’t just Rick. I get it. I was a bitter, angry wife. I didn’t support him, and I wasn’t even nice to him very often.
When one finally stops and takes a look at one’s own heart, it starts a snowball effect. It’s like you see one thing after another. Things you didn’t even realize were there. But now that I’ve finally faced my own responsibility, I’m seeing every scowl, hearing every resentful word.
Oh, Father. I was so afraid for my marriage that I pushed Rick away. The truth is, I’m equally to blame for our marriage not surviving. Infidelity isn’t the only betrayal. I stopped loving, honoring, cherishing. Rick was right. I might not have been unfaithful sexually, but emotionally I pulled away first.
An invisible hand squeezes my heart and the ache is almost more than I can bear. What right do I have to virtuous indignation? I swipe at a tear and drop to my knees beside the cradle. More tears slip down my cheeks as I cry out my heartbreak and ask for forgiveness for my part in the divorce. Forgiveness for all the nasty things I’ve thought and said about Rick and Darcy. For what seems like forever, I sit on the attic floor, sobbing tears of repentance and asking God to change my heart.
I wait, feeling God’s presence, His tenderness, His love. Knowing I’ll never be the same after today, that God is wiping me clean.
As I gather in a deep breath, I hear that still, small voice speak to my heart. I know My plans for you, Claire. This isn’t the end, but the beginning. Your best days are yet to come.
The thought that I have a future shoots like an arrow into my heart, and I lift my eyes (like God’s really in the attic rafters). Hope lightens my heart. Hope that I can move ahead, let Rick and Darcy be happy without my constant sarcasm and venom. How about letting my kids be happy for them, too, and not so afraid of hurting my feelings that they pretend indifference to their new little brother or sister?
I think of Rick and Darcy and the kids again, and my earlier vision of their perfect Christmas fades. I know I’ve put a damper on their happiness. And I know I can’t justify my actions, but I can put action behind my faith that God can change my heart toward Rick.
I lift my children’s cradle lovingly, carefully, and start down the stairs. I spend the next hour cleaning it up. Dusting, polishing. It’s still old and scarred, but it’s clean. Exactly how I feel. A little scarred, old, but clean. I take a swath of wide red ribbon, wrap it around the length of the cradle and fix a large bow to the headboard.
I slip into my coat and carry the cradle to the van. My heart pounds against my chest as I drive over to Rick and Darcy’s. I carry my offering to the porch, set it down, and ring the bell before hurrying back to the van. This is about them. Rick will understand. And so will Darcy.
I don’t look in the rearview mirror as I pull away. I feel such a sense of peace, closure. I realize this baby is a gift from God. For more reasons than one. Finally, I’m ready to move forward.
Speaking of which. I pass Greg’s house on the way to mine and suddenly I remember his invitation. I pull into my drive and try to decide if I want to take him up on it, or just go inside and fall into bed. In a hasty decision, I get out, stuff my keys into my jeans pocket, and walk the few yards to Greg’s house. He seems a little surprised when he comes to the door.
“Claire, come in.”
“Is the offer for dessert still open?”
His face lights with pleasure. “It sure is.”
Mrs. Lewis hugs me and wishes me a merry Christmas.
“How was your Christmas, Miss Sadie?” I say to the little girl.
She melts my heart with the same gap-toothed grin as Jakey’s and shows me a CD Walkman.
“Very cool. What are you listening to?”
“Veggie Tales.”
I look at Greg and grin. “What else is there?”
The only thing that could have made my evening nicer would have been having my kids with me. But all in all, a rousing game of electronic Clue sure beat spending the evening alone. And Mrs. Lewis’s (or Helen, as she insists I call her) apple pie was melt-in-your-mouth delish.
“Sadie, kiss your daddy good night and Grandma will tuck you into bed,” Helen says as we put away the game pieces.
The little girl doesn’t even protest as a wide yawn stretches her mouth. She hugs and kisses Greg then gives me a shy little wave. “Good night.”
“Well, I suppose I should be going, too.” I stand and take my hot chocolate cup to the sink. Greg holds my coat as I slide my arms in. “Hang on while I get my coat,” he says. “I’ll walk you home.”
I know better than to protest. I lean against the frame of the door between the living room and kitchen while I wait. I never thought I’d be able to walk into Mom’s house and feel as though it truly belongs to Greg. But he’s made it his own.
He walks back into the room and a funny little smile tugs at his lips. “What?” I ask. Standing directly in front of me, he slips a finger underneath my chin and tips my head.
Oh. My face flames instantly. Directly above me is a sprig of mistletoe made from construction paper—obviously put together by Sadie as a school craft.
“I hope you don’t think that I stood here on purpose.” I straighten up and I’m just about to walk away when Greg moves in. He rests his forearm on the wall behind me. My heart rate doubles. He’s standing so close I can feel his breath, warm on my face. His eyes capture mine and I couldn’t look away if the house suddenly went up in smoke.
“Claire,” he murmurs, and his eyes look downward to my lips. “I haven’t even thought of kissing another woman since the day I met my wife.”
Hey, Romeo, probably not the best thing to say to the woman you’re about to make a move on.
Lucky for him, he shuts up and dips his head for the kiss. A firm, steady kind of kiss. I only have one guy to compare him to, and in all honesty I have to say, Greg’s kiss was… all right.
He pulls back, and I figure he knows I’m underwhelmed because a boyish grin tugs at his mouth. He attempts to explain. “I was being a gentleman.” His voice suddenly takes on a husky sort of heart-stopping tone. “But since you mentioned it…”
I sink against him, and he chooses that moment to remember he’s a gentleman.
My eyebrows go up as he gives me that “Now what do you have to say about that?” kind of look. He looks so smug—no doubt caused by my shameless reaction to his mind-boggling kiss.
I shrug. “Better.” I grin. He laughs and we head for the door. He catches my hand and laces his gloved fingers with mine as we turn toward my house.
“I thought you said the kids were staying with Rick.”
I look ahead to my driveway. Rick’s car sits there with the engine running. “They were supposed to. For the whole week.”
To my delight, and a little bit of embarrassment, he keeps his fingers tightly intertwined with mine as we greet Rick and Darcy by the car.
“Are the kids here?”
Darcy shakes her head. “Ari’s watching the others.”
Rick’s eyebrows go up when he notices I’m holding hands with Greg. Darcy’s eyes are moist and her face is shining. She pays no heed to the fact that we’re standing in the freezing cold with snow blowing around us or that I am holding hands with my great-looking neighbor. Instead she rushes toward me, leaving me no choice but to drop Greg’s hand and embrace her. “Thank you, Claire. Thank you so much.”
My own tears are flowing. “I’m sorry for the way I acted, Darcy. I hope you can forgive me.”
“You know I do.” We hold each other at arm’s length. In a moment like this, there’s nothing to do but give in to an awkward moment of laughter.
Rick steps forward. I’m not ready to hug him, so I can only hope he doesn’t have that in mind.
He doesn’t. Rather, he stands in front of me and smiles. His eyes, too, are moist. “Thank you for the cradle. I’d hoped. But I knew I couldn’t ask for it.”
“Like you didn’t ask for my forgiveness?”
“Something like that.”
“It’s okay, Rick. You don’t have to ask for either. They’re yours.”
As Greg and I stand on my front porch and watch them drive away, Greg slips his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “You’re an amazing woman, Claire Everett,” he whispers into my hair.
In his arms, I feel like an amazing woman. This day has been just too much. I rest my head on his shoulder and my breath leaves me in a sigh. I finally put my past behind me today. In a way that was more than faith. I walked it out. I felt it inside. I know the work is done.
Forgetting those things that are behind me, I’m pressing on . . .
I look up at Greg. Are you my future, Mr. Wonderful?
He gives me a curious look. “What is going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”
Okay, anyone who thinks I have a brilliant mind is definitely a keeper.
“My thoughts are all my own tonight.”
He brushes his lips across my forehead. “I’m going to go home so you can get out of this cold.”
I don’t go in right away. Instead, I take a moment to enjoy the fat flakes still blanketing the ground. Greg’s steady footfalls are carrying him toward home, and I watch his broad shoulders and tall, lithe form. I keep focused on him, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s part of that future God said was going to be filled with my best days.
I wish I could say I’ll never get angry with Rick again. I know better than that, but I think in my desire to make all those changes in my life, I lost sight of what’s important—inward change. I believe I’ve made a great start tonight. But it’ll take faith to change my actions. The heart change is quick, and God’s grace is sufficient for that. The rest I’m going to have to work on. Be vigilant. Put action to my faith.
And as far as the kids are concerned… Well, having a healthy mom who is spending time with them is one thing. They’ve enjoyed that. But having a mom who is ready to put away her anger toward their dad is going to have major benefits for their own emotional well-being.
The thought of the future is always a little shaky. Especially when you’re not sure where you’re headed. And, personally, I have no idea what tomorrow holds. The only thing I’m sure of is where I’ve come from—the mistakes I’ve made. I’ll forget the past, but not the lessons learned back there.
My pulse quickens as Greg stops in his driveway, which is illuminated by the motion light over the garage. He turns and waves. Even from this distance I can see his smile. “Good night,” he calls.
I lift my hand and return his wave.
From where I’m standing, my future’s looking pretty bright.
Epilogue
January 2, I drop the kids off at school and come back to the house with a sense of purpose. Time to dig into the sequel to Esmeralda’s Heart. I climb the steps to my office. Instead of turning on my computer, I glance at the Wal-Mart receipt attached to the top of my monitor. The List. I smile, remembering how desperate I was to change my life. So much has occurred during the past three months that I almost don’t feel like the same girl. Okay, let’s be honest. I’m still me. No doubt about it. And guess what? At the New Year’s Eve celebration when Rick and Darcy announced their pregnancy, I felt a little bit miffed. So I know I have a ways to go. But I also recognize that it’s my problem, not theirs.
I’m a work in progress.
So let’s take a look at this list of mine. I smirk at myself and lean back in my chair with my legs propped on the desk.
During the next three months I will:
1. Go to church more. (This includes daily prayer time and maybe a Beth Moore Bible study.)
I can safely say I have achieved this one. And more than I dreamed possible, my relationship with God has grown. I’m a different woman inside. The Word has definitely been a double-edged sword, cutting away the ick in my heart.
2. Clean my house. (Or probably hire someone. My wrists, you know.)
Okay, I read an article the other day about how homes with a little dust in them actually boost children’s immune systems against allergies. So I figure I’m actually being a better mother by not achieving this one.
3. Reconnect with my children. (Will have to plan further for this one.)
All I can say about this one is “Thank You, Lord.” For the first time since Rick walked out, I feel like I have a real place in my kids’ hearts and lives. And I’m staying there. Trust me.
4. Exercise—maybe. (But then again, I will be recovering from surgery. Wouldn’t want to hurt myself. Could probably walk on the treadmill. We’ll play this one by ear.)
Lost seventeen pounds before Christmas, gained back four. So I’m still in the black. Time to get serious again. Maybe I should go for a walk now, before I start working for the day. Hmm. Nah, I’ll do it later. If I have time.
5. Figure out why my only socialization revolves around my computer. I mean, I love the writing groups, but does lunch with the girls always have to involve trying to negotiate a turkey sandwich while instant-messaging one-handed?
Ladies’ Bible study has given me a great handle on real relationships, not to mention the friendship I’ve developed with Linda. (Who, by the way, came back from her second honeymoon, tanned, radiantly happy, and more beautiful than ever. And I still love her.)
6. In response to #5—Join ladies’ group at church. Perhaps read the book How to Make Friends and Influence People. Or maybe one of Dr. Phil’s.
Joined ladies, made friends. Without Dr. Phil.
I gather a breath and look back over the List. Technically I achieved my goal. Which is amazing because lists don’t usually work for me. If I really want to analyze the whole thing, I recognize that in the past I’ve always tried to fix my life from the outside in. And it wasn’t until the inward change began that I saw outw
ard changes in my life.
When this forced sabbatical began, I didn’t realize how far I’d wandered from the things in life that matter most. I hid from the problems, and only when I decided to face things head-on did I finally understand that sometimes God chooses to give us a reason for the tough things in life—like unapproachable kids, mothers who leave town in the middle of a crisis, ex-husbands and their new wives, and a body that looks like a marshmallow—and sometimes He stays quiet and watches as we either follow His lead and grow, or fall on our faces.
I admit I’m not necessarily the fastest learner, but during the past three months, I’ve learned that there is peace with surrendering to God’s dealing in my life. I’m not all the way there yet where Rick and Darcy are concerned. I’m not thin, the kids aren’t perfect, and Greg hasn’t proposed. But I’m not giving up. I’m pressing on, running my race. God is at the finish line with a “Well done” and a pat on the back.
7. List to be amended as necessary. (amending)
8. Press on to the goal so that I may obtain the prize.
With a smile, I power up my computer, open a new document, and begin to write.
READING GROUP GUIDE
Approximately 50 percent of non-Christian marriages will end in divorce. Startlingly, Christian marriage statistics are neck and neck with these. How should the church deal with the victims (the children, the divorcees themselves, the new spouses of divorcees) of divorce? Are we doing enough?
Claire often uses pop culture, movies, the Internet, and food to deal with her issues. Do you turn to other things besides God for your comfort? Does it work?
Claire’s relationship with her mother is based on need; she leaned on her a lot following her divorce. What did she learn by letting go and beginning to handle life on her own? How does your relationship with your mother/grown daughter affect your life and decisions?
Leave It to Claire Page 26
