Firstborn

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “You don’t know?” Kirsten felt a little sick to her stomach.

  “Know what?”

  “He’s moved out.”

  “Who?” Dallas stared at her, wide-eyed. “Steve?”

  She nodded. “I found out last night. He left on Sunday before the barbecue. Erika didn’t say anything then because she didn’t want to spoil things for… for us.”

  “Not this.” Her father rubbed a hand over his face. “Not to them. Not Steve and Erika.”

  Erika let the newspaper fall closed on the table.

  “What am I to do?” she whispered.

  She had no idea where to begin looking for work. It was a lifetime ago since she’d held a paying job. How many employers counted “Den Mother” as a marketable skill or “Volunteer Teacher’s Assistant” as previous work experience?

  She hadn’t heard a word from Steven in the past three days, and the pain of his absence was nearly more than she could bear. Worse still was seeing Ethan’s bewilderment and anger.

  Would Steven have left, she wondered guiltily, if she hadn’t said he should? Could they have worked things through if only she’d guarded her tongue?

  “I don’t know.” She shoved the newspaper from the table to the floor. “I just don’t know.” She stood and went outside, her thoughts tumbling.

  Ethan was entering a crucial time of his life. This fall, he’d be a senior in high school. He planned to go away to college next year. He’d been working so hard, saving as much as he could. He needed his father. He needed guidance.

  “Where are you, Steven?”

  She didn’t understand how he could desert them this way. Was what she’d done so terrible it deserved abandonment? Did their years together, did their son, count for nothing at all?

  I’m afraid, God. I’m terrified. I feel alone. Where are You in all of this?

  She looked around the yard. The grass needed mowing, and she’d allowed weeds to encroach on her flower beds. She and Steven had always cared for their home together. They’d shared the duties. They’d been a team. And now her life partner had walked out without so much as a backward glance.

  I’ve asked for Your help, Father, but things keep getting worse. Why is that? Don’t You hear me? Is my sin so unforgivable?

  She dashed tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

  Why are You punishing me this way? Was I wrong when I thought You spoke to me? Was I wrong to think things would work out?

  Beloved… wait.

  Erika caught her breath at the stirring in her heart.

  Don’t you know that the Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth? No one can measure the depths of His understanding.

  God understood. He wasn’t punishing her. The Lord understood her heart’s cry.

  Those who wait on the Lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles.

  Waiting. It was the hardest thing of all to do.

  And yet, in those words from Isaiah, she believed God had spoken another promise to her, a promise for her future, a promise about her marriage.

  God understood. He had a plan. She couldn’t see it, but she would do her best to believe it.

  She would trust.

  She would wait.

  Thirty-one

  Steven hadn’t missed the weekly Bible study in over a year. But he didn’t go this Thursday morning. He didn’t want to explain his current situation to the men of his church.

  His current situation. Now wasn’t that a polite turn of phrase to describe where he found himself?

  He rolled over, feeling every lump and bump in the cheap mattress and remembering his mom’s nighttime refrain when he was a kid: “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He never imagined he’d be sleeping in a sleazy motel at his age, wondering if it might actually have bedbugs.

  Muttering an oath of disgust, he sat up on the side of the bed. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the growth of stubble on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved all week, and he knew he looked like a skid-row bum. Fitting, he supposed, given his current place of residence.

  If he was at home…

  He suddenly wondered if Erika wished she hadn’t told him to leave. Told him to leave? Well, so she hadn’t exactly told him to go, but she’d suggested it might be for the best. That made this her fault. Right?

  You haven’t even called her. She doesn’t know where you are.

  He wondered if she was worried about him. Was she lying awake nights, thinking about him? The same way Steven was lying awake, thinking about her?

  Her words whispered in his memory: “You don’t want to touch me. You never kiss me or tell me you love me. You walk wide circles around me. Like I’m a leper or something.”

  She didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. She had no idea how many times in the past weeks he’d wanted to reach for her—even in the midst of his anger. He’d wanted to find comfort in her arms. But every time he’d been tempted, he’d thought of Erika and Dallas together, and he’d turned away.

  He’d always turned away.

  Nick Franklin shook Dallas’s hand as the study group broke up. “We’re glad you joined us. Don’t know what happened to Steven. It isn’t like him to miss.”

  Dallas didn’t think it was his business to tell the pastor about Erika and Steven’s problems, so he said nothing.

  “We hope you’ll be back next week,” Nick went on.

  “Don’t worry. I will be.” This time Dallas smiled and nodded before heading to his car.

  Never in his wildest dreams would Dallas have imagined he’d enjoy a Bible study. When he thought of the derogatory names he’d called Christians in the past, he cringed in shame.

  But that was the old Dallas who’d said those things, he reminded himself. He was different now. He felt new, too. It was a difficult thing to describe, this feeling of newness. He’d tried to tell Paula, but she’d rolled her eyes and given him one of those looks.

  I guess if You can reach me, You can reach her.

  Maybe God was already reaching her. Dallas couldn’t believe how much better things had been between them since last Sunday. Ironic, wasn’t it? That was the same day Steven walked out on Erika.

  He frowned as he pointed the remote at his car and pressed the button. The horn honked its brief alert, and the driver’s-side door unlocked.

  What could he do to help his friends? he wondered. Half a dozen times yesterday afternoon he’d picked up his phone to call Erika. And half a dozen times he’d placed the phone back in its cradle, never making the call. After all, what could he say to her? He didn’t have any words of wisdom to share.

  Erika flipped the fried egg in the skillet, then checked the bacon in the microwave.

  “Morning, Mom.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Ethan. “Well, good morning. You’re up early. I thought you had today off.”

  “I do. Just couldn’t sleep.”

  “Want some breakfast?”

  “No thanks.” Ethan moved toward the fridge while rubbing his face with both hands. “Is there any orange juice?”

  “I think so.”

  He opened the refrigerator door. “Yup. There’s a little left in the carton. Want any?”

  She shook her head. “You can have it.”

  The phone rang, and she caught her breath. Was it Steven calling?

  “I’ll get it,” Ethan said. He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  As she pulled the frying pan off the burner, Erika wondered if Ethan had hoped it was his dad, too.

  “Hi… yeah, it’s kinda early… Sure, she’s here. Just a sec.” He held the phone toward his mother. “It’s Paula.”

  Erika’s heart sank with disappointment as she reached to take it from him. “Hello.”

  “Erika, I just heard about Steven leaving. It’s awful. Just awful.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling the disappointment turn to a knot in her stomach. She hated others knowing. She particularly hated Paula
knowing.

  “You must be terrified,” Paula continued. “I mean, there you are with no job experience or anything and almost forty years old. Do you have any idea what you’re going to do now?”

  “I’m praying,” she answered softly.

  “Well,” Paula said with a laugh, “that might bring you comfort, Erika, but it won’t pay your mortgage. I can guarantee it.”

  Fear of the unknown lifted its ugly head.

  “You know I’ll help if I can.”

  What was Paula after? A promise that Erika wouldn’t tell Dallas about Warren Carmichael? Or had Paula called to gloat?

  Paula asked, “How are you holding up emotionally?”

  “Fine,” Erika lied, wishing she could end the call.

  “You two were the last couple I expected this to happen to. Of course, I understand how Steven feels about you and Dallas. I was plenty devastated myself, thinking of the two of you having a child together, then keeping it a secret all these years.”

  Paula’s words were meant to sting, and they did.

  “Speaking of Kirsten,” Paula said, “I’m going to meet her tomorrow night. She’s coming to our place for supper. I was hoping you might bring her. It would make it more comfortable for everyone if you’re there.”

  Comfortable for everyone except Erika. She didn’t want to go out. She didn’t want to socialize. She certainly didn’t want to be pitied by Paula Hurst.

  “Why don’t you talk to Kirsten and let me know? I’ve got a call coming in on the other line.” Paula hung up.

  “What’d she want?” Ethan asked as Erika set down the phone.

  “Kirsten’s going to their house tomorrow. Paula wants me to come, too.”

  “Are you gonna go?”

  “What do you think I should do?” She turned to look at him.

  He shrugged and said nothing.

  She had a sudden image of herself as the child. Ethan was trying to be strong for her, but he was only seventeen. Seventeen and hurting because his father had left without a word.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan,” she said.

  He didn’t ask what for.

  “Don’t hold this against your dad. He loves you. This is about him and me, not you. He didn’t mean to hurt you by leaving.”

  He met her gaze. “Don’t make excuses for him, Mom.”

  Hearing the anger in her son’s voice, Erika wondered if things would ever be right in her family again. The Bible said that all things were possible with God, but did she believe it was true? It chilled her to the core to think that her husband and their son might end up with the same strained relationship as Erika and her own father.

  I’ve never forgiven Dad.

  She turned toward the window, staring outside but looking inward.

  That’s why I act like a scared, fretful child around him. I’ve never forgiven him for being who he is.

  The simple truth stunned her. Why hadn’t she seen it before now?

  Trevor James had never been the father she’d wanted him to be, the father she’d needed him to be. He’d failed her. He’d made her feel she wasn’t good enough. He hadn’t loved her the way she’d so desperately needed to be loved, especially after her mother died.

  Now it’s time I forgive him. It’s time I made my peace with him. It’s way past time.

  Several hours later, Erika pulled her car to the curb in front of her father’s house and cut the engine.

  Help me, Lord.

  She reached for the handle, opened the car door, then got out. With slow but determined steps, she made her way up the walk and rang the bell. She had plenty of time to change her mind before her father answered, but she held her ground.

  “Erika?” he said when he opened the door, a frown furrowing his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you, Dad.”

  “Got another mystery kid to tell me about?”

  The words hurt, but she did her best not to show it. “No.”

  Trevor turned and walked away, leaving the door open so she could follow.

  I can do this.

  The air inside the house was still and warm. The curtains were drawn against the late-afternoon sunlight.

  Her father sat in his La-Z-Boy. “Well, spit it out. What’ve you done now?”

  “Oh, Dad,” she said on a sigh. “I haven’t done anything.” She settled onto the sofa. “We need to talk about… about us.”

  “Us?”

  “You and me. The way we are with each other.”

  “Good grief. This isn’t going to be like on Oprah, is it? Bare our souls and all that other nonsense.”

  Erika clenched her hands into fists in her lap. “Maybe.”

  “Oh, save me,” her father muttered.

  She fought unwelcome tears. “Do you know how much that hurts, Dad, when you say things like that?”

  “You’re the one who came to see me. I didn’t ask you.”

  “No. No, you didn’t ask. You never do. You’ve never wanted to simply spend time with me. You’ve always adored Ethan, but what about your daughter?”

  He glowered.

  “Dad?” She leaned forward. “Do you love me?”

  “Do I—?” He stopped cold, then snapped, “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”

  “And you didn’t answer.”

  “Don’t think I will either.”

  “Why am I such a disappointment to you?”

  “For cryin’ out loud, girl. Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than to irritate your old man?”

  Erika wiped away the tears she couldn’t keep from falling. “After Mommy died, I felt so alone. I needed you to hold me and make me feel special, the way other dads did their kids. I wondered what was wrong with me that you couldn’t love me like that. I thought I’d get over the hurt after I married Steven, but I didn’t.”

  “I always took care of you. You had everything you needed.” Her father sank deep into his chair. He reminded Erika of a cornered animal. “You never went without,” he added.

  “Yes, I did.” She stood. “I went without you.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “There was one time—” she looked down at her hands— “after I became a Christian, that I asked God if He could hold me in His arms and let me really feel a father’s love. And He did.”

  Trevor snorted. He crossed his arms and turned his head away from her.

  That was when she saw her father as he really was—a prisoner of his own emotions—and she felt sorry for him. Unless God intervened, he wasn’t going to change. She would need to accept him—love him, honor him, forgive him—exactly as he was.

  “Okay, Dad,” she said. “Just remember, I love you. I love you, and I forgive you.”

  Time seemed to stop as she spoke those words, and in the stillness of that dimly lit room, Erika felt her childhood hurts being excised from her heart by a divine hand.

  Thirty-two

  At nine-fifty on Friday morning, Steven watched the red-and-white Chevy pull into the employee parking lot behind the hardware store. He got out of his car and strode in that direction. Ethan was halfway to the rear entrance before Steven called out to him.

  “Ethan, wait!”

  His son stopped and turned. He didn’t look any too happy to see him.

  “Can you spare me a few minutes?”

  Ethan checked his watch. “I guess so.”

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about… about what’s happening.” Steven moved a few steps closer.

  His son arched an eyebrow. “Really?” The word dripped with sarcasm.

  “Yes.”

  “As far as I know, the phones have been working at our house all week.”

  Steven took the verbal hit, waited a few moments, then softly said, “I guess I deserve that.”

  Ethan shoved his fingertips into his jean pockets. “I guess you do.” He frowned as he took in Steven’s appearance. “You look like something I’d hate to step in.�
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  Steven flinched. “I haven’t been sleeping too good.”

  “Who has?”

  Steven tried to stay calm. “How’s your mom doing?”

  “As if you care.”

  “I do care.” His voice rose a little, along with a sense of frustration. He’d expected Ethan to give him a chance to explain his side of things. “I do care,” he repeated. “But with everything that’s happened, it’s… it’s kind of confusing.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Ethan’s eyes sparked with anger. “It’s real simple. You’re always saying how we’re supposed to do the right thing. Well, anybody can see you’re not doing it.”

  “Ethan, you don’t understand what—”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand.” Ethan stepped forward. “All my life you’ve told me how much you love Mom. Then you walk out on her like this? That’s not love. So she made a mistake when she was in high school. Is being an unwed mother the unforgivable sin? Would you disown me if I fathered a kid at seventeen?”

  “Ethan, you and Cammi aren’t—?”

  His son made a noise of disgust as he turned toward the store’s back door. “You need to get right with God, Dad.” He hurried inside without a backward glance.

  Steven stood still, rooted to the ground.

  “You need to get right with God, Dad.” The words pierced his heart, an arrow to the center of a bull’s-eye. “You need to get right with God, Dad.”

  His pride demanded his son’s words be rejected. Who was the father here and who was the child? A boy shouldn’t talk that way to his dad.

  But he’s right, that pesky small voice whispered. You do need to get right with God.

  If Kirsten had come to her father’s alone that Friday evening, she would have turned around and left the instant she saw the house. She’d known Dallas Hurst was successful. But she hadn’t expected this.

  As Erika turned her car into the driveway, Kirsten looked at her and said, “How long have they lived here?”