Need You Now

by Beth Wiseman

  “Sure, baby.” He put his arm around her, and they found the kids. She nestled herself into the safety of his arms as they went home, knowing that whatever Brad had to say to her about Barbara, she would love him until the day she died.

  The next day, Darlene assured her family that she was fine, although the void in her life and in her heart was colossal. She insisted the kids go to school. They needed to keep busy, and Darlene wanted to hole up and cry, stop having to be strong in front of everyone. Brad had offered to stay home with her, but she’d insisted he go to work. They would have to talk soon, but she didn’t have the strength for it today.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home today?” Brad kissed her on the forehead.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

  He finally left, said he’d call her later that morning to check on her. He wasn’t even to the end of the driveway when Darlene lay down on the couch and cried, loud thunderous sobs she wouldn’t want anyone to hear. She’d been bottling it up since the funeral, and she pulled her legs to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and allowed herself to feel the pain of losing Layla. Even on her drive back from the hospital the day Layla died, she’d forced herself to suppress everything, knowing she had to drive back to Round Top, arrive safely, and be there for her children.

  She knew that her continued conversations with God had gotten her through all this so far, but she was going to need His help to get her through one more thing. Tomorrow, she’d talk to Brad.

  For the next twenty minutes, she cried, prayed, and cried some more. She was crying so hard that she didn’t see or hear Brad walk into the room. He ran to her side. “Baby, honey . . .” He threw his arms around her. “I was afraid of this. I got about ten minutes down the road, and I decided to turn around. I knew you were having a hard time with this.” He sat down on the couch, pulled her into his lap, and stroked her hair. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. What do you need?”

  She didn’t answer, but buried her face in his chest and cried. For a long time. When she was done, she eased out of his lap, squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, then took a deep breath. She stared at him for several moments. “I need you to tell me about Barbara.”

  Brad tensed as he reached up and scratched his chin. “Who?”

  She wasn’t sure she had the strength for this, but she knew she didn’t have the emotional energy to carry the burden for one more day. “I know about Barbara.” Brad’s expression clouded, and fear squeezed Darlene’s heart. “How long has it been going on?”

  Brad stood up and paced the floor in front of her in the living room. “A couple of months.”

  Confirmation. She felt light-headed as she put her feet on the floor, elbows on her knees, and face in her hands. God, I need You now. More than ever. I can’t do this. I can’t.

  She sat taller, but through her tears, she didn’t look in his direction. All of her loneliness and anxiety melded into one upsurge of determination, and she asked him the one question that was fueling the worst of her fears. “Do you love her?” Just thinking about it shattered her, and she squeezed her eyes closed.

  “Who?”

  She opened her eyes and turned to face him, a war of emotions raging within her, as she wondered how he could innocently ask her that. “Barbara.” Her stomach clenched tight, and the seconds ticked by in slow motion as she waited for her world to change forever.

  Brad’s jaw dropped. “Why would you ask me that?”

  She sniffled. “Because I just need to know if you love her.”

  “Of course not!” He sat down on the couch beside her. “Baby . . .” He reached up to put his hand on her cheek, but she slid over on the couch.

  “Don’t touch me, Brad. You tell me everything! I can’t take one more day, one more second of this! I’ve known for weeks, but I’ve been too scared to ask. Then with Layla . . .” She cried so hard she could barely breathe. “I need to know how long you’ve been having an affair with this Barbara woman.”

  “What?” Brad dropped his jaw again. “You think I’ve been having an affair with Barbara Rollins?” He gave his head a shake. “What? Why?”

  “I heard you on the phone, Brad. I heard you say that if your wife found out about the two of you, then your marriage was over.”

  “You never heard me say that, Dar. I’d never say that because there was nothing going on with—” He stopped, stared at her, then sighed. “Oh . . . you must have overheard my conversation with Barbara when I was out in the barn, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dar . . . Barbara is a stockbroker. The insurance wasn’t covering Grace’s visits to the psychiatrist, and I wanted you to be able to redo this house the way you want to.” He paused, then spoke slower than before. “I invested a large chunk of our savings in a plan that Barbara suggested. And it lost a lot of money almost overnight. I told Barbara that she better figure out a way to reinvest it or get the money back, because”—he took a breath—“if you found out about it, our marriage was over.” He shook his head. “I was just trying to make her understand how important it was.” He sat down on the couch, reached for her hand, then squeezed. “The market shifted, and the money is finally back in a much safer investment program.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you really think that I would cheat on you? I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you about what I’d done, but it all turned out okay, and I was just trying to make some extra money. I’ll never do anything like that again without discussing it with you, but, Dar . . . I would never, ever even so much as touch another woman.”

  Darlene pulled her hand from his, stood up, paced, and chewed on her fingernail. She could barely breathe. She wanted to run away, to run back to a time when Grace wasn’t cutting herself, to a time when she and Layla were sitting on her couch talking, to a time when she and Brad were laughing and loving each other, to a time before she’d ever met Dave Schroeder. “Oh, Brad,” she whispered as she bent at the waist.

  He ran to her, wrapped his arms around her. “I’d never, ever betray our love. Never. I’d never cheat on you.”

  She shoved him back, then glared at him. Despite the warning voice whispering in her head, the one saying, Don’t tell, she tossed the words into the air, knowing she would be the one to fall. “Well, I thought you did. And I kissed Dave Schroeder! I kissed him twice. Here, out by the barn.”

  The color drained from Brad’s face as he stared at her.

  “I don’t feel anything for him. It was a mistake, and I’m so, so sorry. I thought you were having an affair with someone named Barbara.” Darlene dropped to her knees. “I’m sorry. You are the love of my life, my everything. I’m so sorry.”

  The silence thickened between them like a heavy mist, and Brad’s nostrils flared. He looked like a volcano on the verge of erupting. “You and Dave? Making out in the barn? Our barn?” Brad was yelling now, and Darlene knew she deserved it. She just wondered if he could get past this. And if she could forgive herself.

  Darlene stood up and faced him. She reached for him, but he backed away. “Brad, who do you . . .”

  But before she could even finish the question, he turned and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  For the next two days, Brad spoke to her as little as he could. He stayed up late and fell asleep on the couch. She knew he was sending her a message, one that she deserved. It was all out now. Ultimately, she’d been the one to betray Brad, to keep a secret worse than the one he’d been keeping. And she was sure, beyond any doubt, that she’d never seen Brad as angry as when she’d confessed to him—his eyes blazing, his words filled with utter contempt. She felt empty. Lost. And she missed Layla.

  She’d been relying on God for strength. In her heart, she knew He was listening, hearing her cries for help, but guilt and regret were suffocating her. The only thing she knew to do was to keep busy.

  Despite Brad’s promise that they would replace the old wooden floors in the d
en, Darlene had rented a floor sander yesterday. It was hard work and torturous on her back. She’d hardly been able to crawl out of bed this morning to resume the task, but idle time was her enemy. She started running the sander right after the kids left for school and Brad left for work.

  Every time she moved, her body ached. And she deserved it. But with each push forward, she could see the reward for her efforts. As the top layer of weathered wood turned to sandy residue throughout the den, there was a fresh surface underneath, worthy of restoration. She coughed, groaned from the exertion, and stopped to cry when she needed to.

  Brad left the office early that afternoon. He missed his wife, but bitterness wrapped around him so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. As he pulled into Dave Schroeder’s driveway, he had every intention of punching the guy in the gut. But when Dave opened his front door, Brad held his breath. Cara was standing beside him, a gentle smile across her beautiful face.

  “Can I talk to you?” Brad stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks as Dave’s eyes met his.

  “Sure.” He hung his head, swung the door wide, then he and Cara stepped aside so Brad could go in. His heart was beating hard in his chest as he fought the images of Dave kissing his wife.

  Dave wrapped an arm around Cara, the color draining from his face. “Let me go get Cara settled in her painting room, and I’ll be right back.”

  Brad picked up a picture of Dave standing next to a beautiful woman outside of this house. He realized the woman must’ve been Dave’s wife. A chill ran down Brad’s spine at the thought of ever losing Darlene, but before he had time to discern whether or not he was feeling sympathy for Dave, the man returned. And so did the bitterness Brad felt.

  “I know what happened with you and Darlene. You stay away from my wife.” Brad’s voice trembled as he spoke, and he still hadn’t ruled out a swift punch.

  Dave rubbed his forehead and looked at the floor for a few moments. When he looked back up, he swallowed hard. “I’ve never kissed another man’s wife, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am that it happened with yours.” He paused, nervously rubbing his forehead again. “It goes against everything I believe in.”

  Brad was glad Dave was nervous, but he was upset with himself for feeling a wave of sympathy for Dave. The man appeared sincerely sorry. Brad glanced at all the pictures of Dave and his wife on a hutch near the door. Again he thought about how hard it would be to live without Darlene, and he suddenly wanted to get home to her.

  “I don’t want you in our life.” Brad’s voice was stronger, his eyes fixed on Dave’s. “It’s a small town, and we’ll run into each other, but I don’t want you around my family.”

  Dave nodded, looking down again. “I understand.”

  Brad knew Dave wasn’t fully to blame, but right now that logic was buried beneath Brad’s own need to fix things with Darlene. Blaming her wouldn’t achieve that result. He needed Dave to take the blame, which he seemed to be doing.

  Brad turned and headed toward the door. He was almost there when he heard a whisper that made him pause.

  For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.

  He didn’t move for a moment as his own indiscretions rose to the front of his thoughts. Was what Darlene and Dave did worse than what Brad had done by lying to his wife, or at best, avoiding the truth? Who was he to decipher the importance of one sin over another? Sadness, bitterness, and shame fell over him. He needed to blame Dave and Darlene, but had he not looked in the mirror lately? He turned around and faced Dave.

  “I forgive you.” He wasn’t ready to forgive Dave, nor did he want the man around his wife, but something in his heart cried for him to mean it. He said it again, “I forgive you,” and hurried out the door.

  When Darlene’s back couldn’t take any more, she stowed the sander in the corner and admired her work. More than anything, she wanted Brad to be pleased, to be proud of her work on the floors.

  She sat down on the couch, sweat dripping down her face. The front of her T-shirt was soaked as she laid her head back. Here it was—idle time, when her thoughts turned sour. But she was sure she couldn’t do one more thing around the house. In addition to sanding the floors, she’d scrubbed the bathrooms, washed all the linens, and even polished the dove pendant. She reached up and grasped the bird in her hand, praying that the Holy Spirit would fill her, give her strength.

  Ten minutes later, Brad walked in, almost two hours early. He was carrying a slender box about three feet tall, but only four or five inches wide. He put it down in front of the couch. “This was on the front porch.”

  Darlene wiped her face on her shirtsleeve. “I guess I didn’t hear UPS come.” She glanced at the sander, wondering if Brad would comment on the floors. When he didn’t, she asked, “What is it?”

  “Something I bought for you months ago.”

  She covered her face and started to cry. “Back when you still loved me.”

  Brad sat down beside her on the couch and pulled her hands away. “I never stopped loving you, Darlene. But I need to know . . . Do you feel anything for Dave?” He gave her hands a slight jerk. “Do you, Dar? Because I don’t think I could take that.”

  She shook her head. “No!” Tears poured down her face. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I could never love anyone else.” She put an arm across her stomach, her body trembling, her heart breaking. “I’m so sorry, Brad. I just—”

  He put a finger to her lips. “Darlene . . .” He spoke softly, tenderly, as he locked eyes with her. After a few moments, he brushed back her hair on both sides and cupped her face. “Who do you love?”

  As tears poured down her face, she said, “You, baby. Always and forever.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry for not being truthful with you.”

  “I’m sorry—sorry for everything.” She buried her face into his chest, his love as necessary to her survival as food and water. “I’m so sad, so incredibly sad, about everything. I can’t breathe.”

  He lifted her chin until she was facing him. He kissed her softly. “I know you are. And I’m going to stay with you today, tomorrow, and as long as it takes until you feel better.” He paused, gazed into her eyes. “I know you, Darlene. So listen to me.” He kissed her on the nose. “I know you love me. That’s why I don’t ask you all the time. I know I’m the only one for you. So please . . . forgive yourself. Because I forgive you, and I need you to forgive me for keeping a secret too.”

  “I do.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Losing Layla is a big loss, and it’s going to take some time before you feel better.”

  She started to cry. “Brad . . . I need you. More than ever.”

  “I know, baby. I need you too.”

  The following Saturday, Darlene, Brad, Chad, Grace, and Ansley found a nice spot in the far corner of the front yard. Darlene carried her gift from Brad, a fruit salad tree that didn’t look like anything more than just a stick. About three feet long, it resembled any number of broken branches in the yard that had fallen from their trees.

  The instructions said to soak it in water for a few days, then once it was planted, it had to be watered every day. Darlene planned to nurture that tree into the most luscious fruit salad tree anyone had ever seen.

  Brad was hauling a shovel, and Ansley carried the small plaque they’d had made so they could plant the tree in memory of Layla.

  “So that tree is actually going to bloom all different kinds of fruit on one tree?” Chad had already asked the question several times. Darlene had pointed the tree out to Brad in a catalog months ago and was thrilled he’d remembered.

  She assured her son one more time. “Yes.” Darlene smiled at Chad. “Ours is a stone fruit tree, and it’ll have peaches, plums, nectarines, and apricots.”

  It didn’t take long for Brad to dig the hole and get the small tree packed in. Grace reached for the water hose nearby, then soaked the ground under and around the tree. Ansley plac
ed the marker at the tree’s base. In loving memory of our friend, Layla Jager.

  “Let’s all bow our heads,” Darlene said after a few moments. They formed a circle around the tree and held hands. “Lord, we miss Layla, and . . .” Darlene swallowed back the sob in her throat and took a deep breath to go on, but Brad squeezed her hand and spoke up.

  “Why don’t we all say something about Layla, and something we’re thankful for. I’ll go first.” Brad paused. “Lord, we know Layla is in a wonderful place, Your kingdom. And she’s enjoying all the love that You have to offer all of us, whether in heaven or on earth.” He squeezed Darlene’s hand again. “Blessings for her and for us as we all heal. I’m thankful for my wonderful family.” Brad nodded to his left where Grace stood.

  Grace cleared her throat. “I’m going to miss Layla, Lord, but I know that she is with You and Marissa.”

  Darlene felt a tear roll down her cheek, but she smiled as she recalled the last word Layla had spoken on this earth.

  “I’m—I’m . . .” Grace took a deep breath. “I’m thankful for my family. And also for Dr. Brooks.”

  Darlene knew that after their breakthrough, Grace was truly on the mend, and much of the credit went to Dr. Brooks. They all looked at Ansley.

  “I’m going to miss Layla too, Lord. And I’m thankful for my family, my chickens, and my friends at school.”

  They all looked at Chad.

  “Hi, God. I’m really gonna miss Layla too.” He bowed his head for a moment, and Darlene hoped he wouldn’t cry. But he raised his head, and a smile spread from ear to ear. “And I’m thankful that Skylar finally let me kiss her.”

  “Chad!” Ansley sounded disgusted, and Grace picked up the water hose and shot Chad in the chest. Darlene was glad that Grace had accepted—even encouraged—the budding relationship between Chad and Skylar.

  Next thing Darlene knew, they were all running around, laughing, spraying each other with the water hose, and darting around a tiny tree—a sprig of life no bigger than a twig. But with proper nourishment, the tree and its various fruits would be forever grounded, rooted together for life, for generations to come.