A Time to Dance

by Karen Kingsbury

  Abby watched a pretty blush fan across Nicole’s cheeks and then noticed that Jo was astonished. “Not enough time to fish? When you’ll be stuck out there in the middle of that warm Atlantic Ocean. Now listen, you two, if you change your mind you could always rent the—”

  Denny gently placed his hand over Jo’s mouth and nodded toward the bride and groom. “What she’s trying to say is have a wonderful trip and we’ll see you when you get back.”

  Jo conceded and laughed lightly as Denny circled her waist with his arm and brought her close to him. “Okay, okay. Go. We’ll fish later.”

  Watching them, seeing how Denny loved Jo, how Matt loved Nicole, Abby felt more alone than ever, drowning in an ocean of separateness and solitude. Get me through this, God, please.

  Seek first My kingdom and all these things will be added to you . . .

  Abby sighed quietly. Later, God. Let me get through this nightmare and then I promise I’ll come back around. After next week I’ll need You more than ever. Okay, Lord?

  There was nothing in response, and Abby’s lonely feeling worsened. Even God was against her these days.

  John was next. He took the initiative and stepped up, placing one hand on Nicole’s shoulder and the other on Matt’s. That deep something or other was back in his eyes as he began to speak. “If it’s okay, I’d like to pray before you leave.”

  Pray? An unnerving feeling worked its way down Abby’s spine. Was this part of his act, his way of making sure Nicole and Matt would think things were fine back home while they celebrated their new marriage in Jamaica? Other than before football games, Abby couldn’t remember how long it’d been since John had offered to pray.

  “Lord, grant Matt and Nicole safe travel this week, but above all else, give them time to realize the beauty of the commitment they’ve made to each other. Help them be like eagles, Lord . . . now and forever, amen.”

  “The beauty of the commitment they’ve made?” Abby played John’s words over and over in her mind and felt baffled by them. Was he so out of touch with the fact that he’d broken his own commitments to her? How could he pray for Nicole and Matt to be like eagles, to hold on forever, when he had determined years earlier to let go of Abby and all they had?

  She pushed the thoughts from her mind. What difference did it make? Their fate had been sealed for months, years. They had been helpless to keep their marriage together. Even counseling hadn’t helped. Why begrudge John the chance to pray for a different path for Nicole and Matt?

  It was Abby’s turn then, and she hugged first Nicole, then Matt, smiling through tears on the verge of spilling over. “It was a beautiful wedding, you two.”

  Nicole took Abby’s hand and bent her head close, her eyes glowing with sincerity. “Thank you so much for everything, Mom. We couldn’t have pulled it off without you and Dad.”

  Abby nodded. “You two go. Have a great time.”

  Nicole hugged Abby once more. “Love you, Mom. You’re the best.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Nicole leaned forward and whispered into Abby’s ear. “Remind me to tell you what God’s had on my heart lately. We’ll talk about it when I get back, okay?”

  When they got back . . . That would be when the meeting would take place, when she and John would finally tell the kids the truth about their marriage. Whatever Nicole wanted to talk about would probably be forgotten in the aftermath.

  “Okay, sweetheart. We’ll talk then.”

  In a flurry of motion, Nicole and Matt left the house and climbed into Beth’s car, waving out the window as they drove away. Sean had already gone home with his best friend, Corey, since he’d be staying with his family that week. With the bride and groom gone, the others said their good-byes and Kade set out with some friends. Jo and Denny were the last to leave.

  “Abby, thanks for everything.” Jo had tears in her eyes as she hugged Abby longer than usual. “Without you and John, your marriage and faith, I wouldn’t have known what real love was.”

  The lump in Abby’s throat was too thick for her to do more than nod her head. John reached for Denny’s hand. “It’s your turn next. When’s the big day?”

  “Two weeks. It’ll be a small wedding, nothing like this, but we’d like you and Abby to be there.”

  Tension began gnawing at Abby’s insides and she swallowed hard.

  “And happy anniversary, guys.” Jo reached out and pinched first her cheeks then John’s.

  Denny nudged his bride-to-be. “If we’d let ’em have a minute alone, they might actually get to celebrate. Come on, Jo, I’m taking you home.”

  “Bye! Thanks for everything . . .” Jo was still talking as Denny linked arms with her and headed for their car, leaving Abby and John standing in the doorway.

  When they were gone, the house was silent, echoes of laughter and conversation from moments earlier still fading in the foyer. Abby took a step back and leaned against the wall for support. An overwhelming sense of dread settled over her, their home, the air between them.

  John cleared his throat as he turned to face her. “I guess it’s time.”

  The sadness in his eyes was too much for her and she let her gaze fall to the floor. “Go, John. Don’t make a long ordeal out of it. Just go.”

  His suitcase was already in the car, and Abby was sure his keys were in his pocket. But instead of leaving, John stepped a few feet closer. “Abby, I know you’re mad at me and I don’t blame you.” He came closer still and gently lifted her chin so that their eyes met. The tears that had been brimming spilled onto her cheeks and she gulped back a torrent of sobs. “I’m sorry, Abby.” His voice was tender, barely more than a whisper. “Sorrier than I’ve ever been in all my life.”

  Abby had no fight left in her. She looked down again and nodded her understanding as she managed to speak. “Me, too.”

  “You don’t have to believe me, but the other day—while you were on the campout with Nicole—I told Charlene to move on with her life.” He hesitated. “The enemy of my soul wanted me to get sucked up in that mess, but God and I, well . . . we’ve been doing some talking. I ended it with Charlene, Abby. She’s moving to Chicago in a few weeks.”

  Abby kept her eyes trained on the ground, not sure what to say. Not sure whether she believed him. When she found the strength to look at him again, she saw tears on his cheeks as well. “Abby, I made some awful mistakes and I’m sorry. I kissed Charlene twice when I never should have . . .”

  Abby huffed under her breath. This wasn’t true confession time. Abby didn’t want to hear about Charlene now. Go, John, get it over with.

  Instead he slid his fingers up the side of her face and continued. “There was never anything more between us, Abby. Never.”

  “John, this isn’t the—”

  “Wait . . . let me finish.” His voice rang with sincerity, and again Abby was confused. Why is he doing this? Breaking things off with Charlene—if he really had—and talking so tenderly to me? Why now when it’s too late?

  He drew a deep breath and continued. “Look, Abby, I know you don’t believe me, and that’s something you have to work out, but it’s important for me to tell you anyway. I made mistakes but I was not having an affair with Charlene and I was never in love with her.” He sighed, his hand still framing her face. “For what it’s worth, I think God wanted me to tell you.”

  Her soul felt like it was being strangled within her and she remained motionless. How much can I take here, God? What’s he doing to me?

  He’s lying to you, Abby. Taking you for a fool.

  The answer came quickly, angrily, from some dark recess of Abby’s being and her back stiffened as she silently agreed with it. Of course he was lying. All those mornings and afternoons together and time alone when she was busy on the weekends? He must think she was incredibly gullible to believe there’d been nothing but a few kisses between him and Charlene.

  “I’ll always love you.” He brought her chin up again and looked directly into her soul. “
You know that, right?”

  If he loved her, would he have taken up with Charlene in the first place? Her tears were falling onto the floor now and her lack of response to his question caused fresh pain in John’s eyes.

  He captured a tear from her cheek and mingled it with one of his own. “We were supposed to be one; that’s what we promised each other twenty-two years ago. And just because we stopped being one doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.”

  A sob escaped from Abby’s throat as she nodded again. “G-g-go, John. Please.”

  “Okay.” He backed up toward the front door, his eyes still locked on hers. “I’ll never forget the years we had together. No matter what the future brings.”

  See, there it was! The reference to Charlene and the future they’d have together. She hung her head and let the sobs come. They stood there, not speaking to each other for nearly a minute. When she finally found control again, she opened the screen door and held it that way. “Good-bye, John.”

  He nodded his understanding, his voice thick. “Good-bye.”

  With that he walked out of their home, out of the life they’d shared together. In years to come he would be little more than a stranger, someone she used to love a long, long time ago.

  Feeling as though her arms were being ripped from her sides, Abby watched him go, watched him climb into his truck and drive away. She stayed there until his taillights disappeared and she could no longer hear his engine. Then she shut the door, locked it, and wandered back into the house like a child orphaned in battle, wounded and cut to the core. Her eyes fell on the back door, and she knew where she needed to be: on the pier. Even if she was all by herself, she needed to be there.

  The air had cooled some, so she ran upstairs to find a sweater. Tears still streamed down her face as she made her way through their closet. It was emptier now, missing the items John had taken with him. It would all be gone soon, everything that might remind her of John’s place in their home. His former place.

  Her eyes fell on John’s zip-up Marion Eagles sweatshirt. Gathering it to her, she buried her face in the soft fleece and felt another wave of sobs wash over her. It still smelled like him. She eased it off the hanger and slipped it on over her dress, relishing the way she felt small and protected inside it, as though John’s arms covered her shoulders.

  “Dear God . . .” She could barely speak for the force of her tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone . . .”

  Again the pier beckoned her. Hugging herself tightly, she moved from the closet into their bedroom . . . then paused. A brown notebook sat on John’s dresser. She blinked twice, clearing the tears so she could see more clearly. What was that? Abby had never seen it before

  Don’t let it be from Charlene . . . please, God . . .

  Abby almost walked past it, but something halted her, nudged her, and she went to take it gingerly in her fingers and open the cover.

  It was John’s writing. She turned a few pages and saw that there were several entries. Was it a journal? Could it be that her husband had kept notes she was completely unaware of? She flipped back to the first page and began reading:

  July 9, 2001: I have made the most terrible mistake in all my life and I— Abby closed her eyes. Was it a confession about what John had done with Charlene? If so she couldn’t bear to read it, not now. She opened her eyes, terrified at what she was about to see. Unable to stop herself, she continued down the page.

  . . . and I have no one to talk to, no place to share my feelings. That’s why I’m writing now. Oh, God, what You’ve shown me in Kade’s report.

  About the eagle and how he will hold onto his mate to the end. Even to death. My mistake is this: I let go of Abby. I loved her with all my being but someday, sometime, I let go. I’m sorry, God . . . if You’re listening, let Abby know how sorry I am.

  Her heart fluttered strangely. What was this? What had he done that caused him to be so sorry? And why hadn’t he told her in person? Suddenly her mind filled with the image of John trying to talk to her the night before, and she bit her lip. He had tried to talk to her, but she was too weary, too sure he was lying to listen. She swallowed a series of sobs and dried her face on the sleeve of John’s sweatshirt. The next entry was on the same page.

  July 10, 2001: There’s nothing I can do to make Abby believe me. I’ve made mistakes, God. You know that. But I haven’t lied to her about me and Charlene. The memory of every moment with Charlene makes me sick to my stomach . . .

  The room was spinning, and Abby had to sit on the foot of the bed to keep from falling on the floor. Was it possible? Had John been telling the truth all along?

  A dozen times when she had ridiculed him, shouted at him, called him a liar played again in her head. What if she’d been wrong? What if he had been telling the truth?

  She read the other entries, struck by John’s humility, his transparency. Had he left the journal on his dresser intentionally, hoping she’d find it? The final entry answered her question:

  July 13, 2001: Nicole is getting married tomorrow, the same day that I’ll lose everything that ever mattered to me. One day . . . maybe ten years from now . . . I’ll find the right moment to share these feelings with Abby. For now . . . there’s nothing I can do. It’s over between us and it’s all my fault.

  Abby closed the book and set it down. A different kind of sorrow gripped her heart, suffocated her with the reality that she’d been wrong about John. Yes, he’d made mistakes. They both had. But clearly he wasn’t in love with Charlene and he hadn’t lied about his relationship with her. Just the opposite. He’d tried to tell Abby every detail, to confide in her the feelings in his heart . . . but she had refused to listen.

  Tears still pouring down her face, the sobs having their way with her, she followed the familiar path outside and down the damp grassy hill, past the deserted tables and empty dance floor to the old wooden pier. There were two chairs there, and Abby took one of them, doing her best to get control of herself. No wonder he had left. She hadn’t really listened to him in years, hadn’t been the friend he needed to confide in.

  Okay, Abby, let it go. He’s gone. It’s all over; you can open your eyes.

  She was cold and alone and the ache in her chest felt like it would kill her. John Reynolds, the man she had fallen in love with when she was barely more than a girl, was gone from her life. In part, at least, because she had refused to hear him, to believe him. Lord, what have I done?

  Trust Me, daughter . . . look to Me. All things are possible with God.

  But it’s too late . . . I’ve pushed him away and now we have nothing left.

  The wind in the trees made it sound as though God Himself were holding a finger to His mouth. “Shhhhhh,” He seemed to say. “It’s okay. Trust Me, daughter . . . come home to Me . . .”

  I want to, God, I do . . . But I’ve made such a mess of things.

  Abby had no idea how long she sat there, sobbing quietly, not sure she would survive the losses in her life. Finally, when she didn’t think she had tears left to cry, her mind moved back to the wedding and the lovely bride Nicole had been.

  Dear God, let her and Matt stay together forever; don’t let her happiness be dimmed because of John and me.

  Abby stared out at the water and imagined how Haley Ann might have looked if she’d been Nicole’s maid of honor. Abby looked intently across the water. “Haley Ann, baby, we missed you today. I missed you.”

  There was a rustling of bushes and grass behind her, far up on the hillside, and Abby spun around. She had never felt nervous here, in this place where she had lived nearly all her married life. But now that she was alone, every sound seemed magnified. Nothing caught her eye, so Abby decided it must have been a deer making its way across the field.

  She turned back to the water and stood up, her pale blue dress flowing in the breeze beneath John’s sweatshirt. She moved to the edge of the pier, then reached down and moved her fingers across the water. Mommy loves you, baby girl. Haley Ann wasn’t there
of course, but something about dipping her hand in the place where her baby’s ashes lay gave Abby a sense of connection with her.

  It was the closest she could come this side of heaven to holding Haley Ann, and right now it was the only thing that brought even a fraction of peace to Abby’s heart. As she stayed there, the lake water moving between her fingers, her mind returned to John’s final words in the hallway. So, he hadn’t lied after all . . .

  The reality left a sick feeling Abby knew would never quite go away. The death of their marriage was no longer something she could blame on John alone. It was her fault, too. Why didn’t I see it sooner, Lord?

  Love covers a multitude of sins, My daughter.

  If only it weren’t too late . . .

  Abby gazed into the starry summer sky and there, alone in the night, she was overwhelmed by the presence of God.

  As I have loved you, so you must love one another . . . love deeply, Abby.

  The unspoken words came at her again and again, and she ached for the chance to tell John about finding the journal. To think that everything he said had been the truth. That he hadn’t wanted an affair, hadn’t been sleeping with her. That Abby’s mocking comments had probably driven him into Charlene’s arms in the first place. That it had been both their faults . . . refusing to talk, watching love die . . .

  Year after year after year.

  The realization was suffocating, and she pulled her hand from the water, frozen in that stooped position at the end of the pier. God, forgive me. What have I done? I could have believed him. Instead I convinced myself he was a cheater, a liar. And I treated him that way for years. Dear God . . . what kind of woman am I?

  Return to your first love, Abby. Love as I have loved you . . .

  But how could she return to God now when she deserved nothing but condemnation? As if in response, Abby felt an overwhelming sense of grace wash over her. Grace precious and undeserved. I’m sorry, Lord. How much of what happened was my fault and I didn’t see it until now? And why couldn’t I have heard You this way before it was too late? Oh, God, please forgive me . . .