by Irene Hannon
“Good night, Kate. Call me if Sarah isn’t a lot better by tomorrow.”
She swallowed, with difficulty. “I will. And thank you, Eric.”
“It was my pleasure.”
He looked at her for a moment, his gaze intense, and her breath got stuck somewhere in her chest. Slowly he reached up and touched her face, and she felt every muscle in her body begin to quiver. His fingers were gentle, the contact brief and unplanned, but as their gazes locked for an instant, Kate saw a flame leap to life in his eyes. Her stomach fluttered strangely, and she remembered Sarah’s words to her earlier—“I think you should get to know him better.”
Her mouth went dry and she seemed unable to move. Eric’s gaze seared into her soul—assessing, discerning, seeking. She stopped breathing, not at all sure what was happening. Or if she could stop it. Or—most disturbing of all—if she even wanted to.
And then, abruptly, he turned away, striding quickly down the stairs. Kate stared after him, her heart hammering painfully in her chest as she thought about what had just happened. Had Eric been thinking about kissing her? Or had she only imagined it? But she hadn’t imagined his touch. Her cheek was still tingling where his hand had rested.
And what did that touch mean? she wondered with a troubled frown as she slowly closed the door. And why had he done it?
Why did you do that? Eric berated himself as he strode angrily toward his car. He tossed his bag onto the passenger side and slid behind the wheel, his fingers gripping its curved edge as he stared into the darkness, struggling to understand what had just happened.
The self-control he’d carefully honed through the years had slipped badly tonight, he admitted. He wasn’t normally an impulsive man. But as he’d looked at Kate’s willowy form silhouetted in the doorway, he had been overwhelmed by a powerful urge to touch her, to reassure her in a tactile way that she wasn’t as alone as she seemed to feel. He had wanted to tell her that she could always call on him, for anything. Had wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. Had wanted to kiss her, to taste her sweet lips beneath his.
Eric let out a ragged breath and closed his eyes. Thank heaven he hadn’t given in to that impulse; that he’d resisted his instincts and confined himself to a simple touch. But it hadn’t been easy. And he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the next time, it would be even more difficult.
Eric knew that he should strengthen his resolve to keep their contact to a minimum. He knew that just being around Kate was a dangerous temptation he didn’t need. But he also knew it was a risk he was going to take—as soon as he regained his equilibrium and self-control. He figured that would take a week, maybe two. It wouldn’t be easy to wait that long to see her again, he acknowledged. But he would manage it.
Three days later, Eric was already trying to think of an excuse to call Kate. So much for resolve, he thought grimly as he pulled into the attached garage of his modest bungalow, then headed down the driveway to retrieve the mail. She hadn’t contacted him, so he’d assumed Sarah was feeling much better. Which had meant no more house calls. That was good, of course. For Sarah, anyway.
Eric reached into the mailbox and withdrew the usual assortment of bills and ads, flipping through the stack disinterestedly until a letter with his former sister-in-law’s return address caught his eye. He frowned. Odd. He hadn’t heard from Elaine since the divorce, more than four years ago. He closed the garage door and entered the kitchen, tossing the bulk of the mail on the counter and loosening his tie before slitting open the envelope and scanning the letter.
I know you will be surprised to hear from me, Eric, but I was reasonably certain that unless I wrote, you might never hear about Cindy. I know there was no love lost between the two of you by the time your marriage ended, but I think it’s only right to let you know that she died a month ago. She was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago—so far along that it was hopeless from the start. I guess her chain-smoking finally caught up with her.
Cindy never talked much about the divorce, although she did say that it was her idea. She was my sister and I loved her, but I want you to know that I always felt she had thrown away something pretty wonderful when she left you. I’m sure there was fault on both sides—there always is—but I suspect, much as I loved Cindy, that the bulk of it lay with her. I can only imagine what a devastating experience the breakup was for you, knowing what I do of you from our contact during your marriage.
I hope life has treated you more kindly since the breakup, Eric, and wish you only the best in the future.
Elaine
Eric stared numbly at the paper, then slowly sat down at the table. Cancer was a devastating disease that ravaged its victims physically. He couldn’t even imagine how Cindy, who had always taken such care with her appearance, had coped with that—not to mention all the pain and suffering that cancer inflicted.
For a moment he allowed himself to recall how she had looked at their wedding, her blond beauty absolutely radiant and perfect; and how his heart had been so filled with love on that dream-come-true day. But over the next few years he’d watched that dream slowly disintegrate, until the night of the accident, when it had become a nightmare.
Eric raised a shaky hand and raked his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t thought about that night in a long time, had purposely kept the memory of their confrontation at bay. But now the scene came back with startling clarity, the sequence of events unfolding in his mind as if on a movie screen.
At Eric’s insistence, they’d cut their evening short. He hadn’t been able to get the accident out of his mind, and the smoke at the party had actually begun to make him feel nauseous. Usually he’d deferred to Cindy at such events, enduring them until she was ready to call it a night. But that evening he’d simply told her they were leaving. She’d fumed all the way home in the car, then had confronted him the moment they walked in the door, turning on him in cold fury.
“Okay, do you want to tell me what that caveman act was all about?”
Eric wasn’t up to a fight. But her tight-lipped, pinched features and belligerent tone told him there was no avoiding a confrontation.
“I just couldn’t handle it tonight, Cindy. Not after the accident. It all seemed so…shallow. And the smoke was making me sick.”
She uttered an expletive that made him cringe. “Why do you have to take everything so personally, anyway?” she demanded harshly. “You did your best. More than you needed to, probably. Why can’t you just walk away? It’s only a job.”
He thought of the accident scene, of the woman’s devastated face, the man’s mangled body. And of his wife’s inability to understand, even after all this time, that walking away simply wasn’t in his nature. “It’s not that easy, Cindy,” he replied wearily.
She reached for her purse and extracted a cigarette, staring down his look of disapproval defiantly as she lit it and inhaled deeply.
“You and I need to talk, Eric.”
She was right. But he was too tired tonight for the kind of discussion she had in mind. “Tomorrow, Cindy.”
“No. Now.”
There was an odd note in her voice, and he looked at her with a frown. Her gaze flickered away from his, as if she was suddenly nervous, and his frown deepened. He suddenly felt sick again—not from the smoke, but from a premonition that whatever Cindy had on her mind was going to change their relationship forever. And he didn’t want to hear it. Not tonight.
“Look, can’t this wait?”
“No. It’s waited too long already.” She moved restlessly to the other side of the room, paused as if gathering her courage, then turned to face him.
“Eric, this isn’t working anymore, if it ever did. You know that. Let’s face it. This marriage was a mistake from the start. We’re not a good match. You can’t have enjoyed these last six years any more than I have.”
Eric wanted to pretend that this wasn’t happening. But the tenseness in his shoulders, the sudden feeling of panic, the hollowness in
the pit of his stomach, made it all too real.
“We took vows before God, Cindy. We can’t just toss them aside. Remember the ‘For better, for worse’?”
She gave a brief, bitter laugh. “Oh, I know all about the ‘for worse’ part. When do we come to the ‘for better’?”
That hurt. There had been some moments of happiness, at least at the beginning. “We had some good times.”
“A few,” she conceded with an indifferent shrug. “But not enough to sustain this relationship. And I want more, Eric. In this marriage I’ll always be competing for your attention with a bunch of sick kids. And I’m tired of losing.”
“You knew I was a doctor when you married me.”
She dismissed the comment with an impatient gesture. “I thought you were going to be a surgeon, Eric. With decent hours most of the time. Doing really important work. I didn’t know you were going to turn into the pediatric version of Marcus Welby, always on call, always ready to jump every time some kid has a runny nose.”
Eric’s mouth tightened. Cindy had always made her opinion clear on the subject, but she’d never before used such hateful language.
Something in his expression must have registered, because when she spoke again she softened her tone. “Look, Eric, let’s not make this any harder than necessary, okay? Let’s just agree to call it quits and go our separate ways.”
“You’re asking for a divorce.”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
She shot him an assessing look. “You want the truth?”
Suddenly he wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded nonetheless.
She took a deep breath and reached down to tap the ash off her cigarette. “Okay. I’ve met someone I…like…a lot. There’s potential there. And I want to be free to explore it.” She paused, and as she watched the color ebb from his face, she spoke again. “I’m not having an affair, if that’s what you’re thinking. I wouldn’t go that far, not while we’re married. You know that.”
He didn’t know much of anything at the moment. He just felt shocked—and numb. He sat down heavily and dropped his head into his hands.
“Look, Eric, it’s not that bad. Lots of marriages fail. This way we can both be free to try to find someone who is more compatible.”
Slowly he raised his head, his face stricken, and looked at her. “I married for life, Cindy.” His voice was flat, devoid of all emotion.
“I thought I did, too. But it didn’t work out. I don’t think God expects people to stay in miserable marriages.”
“I think He expects people to try as hard as they can to make it work.”
“I did try,” she replied defiantly. “And it still didn’t work. I’m sorry, Eric.”
But she didn’t sound sorry, he thought dully. She sounded almost…relieved. As if she’d made up her mind about this a long time ago and had been waiting for the right moment to tell him.
When he didn’t reply, she glared at him impatiently. “So are you going to make this easy, or am I going to have to fight you on it?”
He raked the fingers of his hand through his hair and his shoulders drooped. “I’m tired of fighting, Cindy. I can’t hold you if you don’t want to stay.”
“Good.” The relief in her voice was obvious. “I’m glad you’re being sensible. It’s for the best, Eric. Maybe you’ll find someone in the future who’ll make you a better wife.”
He looked at her sadly. “I already have a wife, Cindy. We may be able to break the bonds of our marriage in the eyes of the law, but in the sight of God we’ll always be married. ‘Till death us do part.’”
Eric returned to the present with a start and stared at the letter from Elaine. “Till death us do part.” The words echoed hollowly in his heart. He’d remained faithful to that vow, but the cost had been deep-seated loneliness and episodes of dark despair. Now he was free. He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. But there would be time to think about it later. Right now he needed to talk with the Lord. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Dear Lord, be with Cindy, he prayed. Show her Your infinite mercy and understanding. And forgive me for all the times I failed her. May she find with You the peace and happiness I couldn’t provide her with in this life. Amen.
Kate peered at the mailbox, verified the address, then pulled up to the curb and parked. She surveyed the small bungalow, surprised at its modest proportions and its location in this quiet, family-oriented neighborhood. She’d assumed that a successful doctor like Eric would live in more ostentatious surroundings.
She reached for the coffee cake, then paused as her nerves kicked in. She knew Eric hadn’t really expected her to follow through on his “payment” suggestion for the house call. But it had given her an excuse to see him again. Just being in his presence made her feel good. In fact, since he’d come into her life she felt better than she had in a long time. Thanks to him, she was taking steps to renew her relationship with the Lord. Thanks to him, she’d found a wonderful caregiver for Sarah. And thanks to him, the spot in her heart that had lain cold and empty and dead for five long years was beginning to reawaken.
Actually, she wasn’t sure whether to thank him for the latter. In fact she wasn’t sure how to handle it—especially considering that Eric was off-limits. He’d made that very clear. Plus, she didn’t know if she was ready to say goodbye to her past yet, despite Amy’s advice. But something had compelled her to come here today. It might not be wise, but she had listened to her heart. She only hoped that it would guide her through the encounter to come. After their parting on Sunday night, Kate wasn’t at all sure what to expect when Eric opened the door.
What she hadn’t expected was his shell-shocked appearance. There were deep furrows between his brows, his hands were trembling and his face was colorless. She looked at him in alarm, her own trepidation forgotten as panic set in.
“Eric? What is it? What’s wrong?”
He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to refocus. “Kate? What are you doing here? Is Sarah all right?”
“She’s fine. I dropped her off at church for Christmas-pageant practice, and I wanted to stop by and repay you for the house call.” She held up the coffee cake. “But…well, you look awful! Are you sick? What happened?”
He sighed and wearily passed a shaky hand over his eyes. “I had some…unexpected news. Come in, Kate.” He stepped aside to let her enter, but she hesitated.
“Look, I don’t want to intrude, Eric. Maybe I should come back another time.”
“You’re not intruding. And I’d like you to stay, actually. I could use the company.”
Kate searched his eyes, but his invitation seemed sincere rather than just polite, so she stepped past him into the hallway.
“I was just going to make some coffee. Can I offer you some tea?”
“Thanks. But why don’t you let me make it? You look like you should sit down.”
He smiled wryly at her concerned expression as he led the way to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Kate. I’m not sick. Just shocked. But you look tired. Go ahead and sit down and I’ll put the kettle on.” He indicated a sturdy antique wooden table and chairs in a large bay off to one side of the kitchen.
She complied silently, watching as he stepped between the stove and the oak cabinets. He moved with an easy grace, a quiet competence that was restful and reassuring. She glanced around her. The kitchen was a lovely spot, cheerful and bright, with big windows that offered views of what appeared to be a large tree-shaded backyard. But the room itself was somewhat sterile, with few personal items other than a letter addressed to Eric on the table. Though Cindy had been gone a long time, Kate was surprised that there was so little evidence of the decorating touches usually initiated by the woman of the house. But the room was comfortable and clearly had great potential.
“I like your house, Eric,” Kate remarked as he set plates and forks on the table.
“Do the honors on the cake, would you, Kate? And thanks. The house is nice. It’s the kind of
place I always wanted.”
“Me, too. Jack and I had a house something like this when we first moved to St. Louis.”
Eric heard the wistful tone in her voice, and it tugged at his heart. He knew from his mother that Kate had sold the house after Jack died. She’d needed the money for other things—like paying medical bills. But he didn’t want her dwelling on the past.
“The only problem with this place is the decorating—or lack thereof. It needs to be warmed up, but I’m not even sure where to begin.”
“I’m surprised Cindy didn’t do more,” Kate admitted.
“Cindy never lived here, Kate. I bought this place after the divorce.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. Believe me, this wasn’t her style. We lived in a condo in West County when we were married. It was what she wanted, and it suited her.”
But what about you? Kate wanted to ask. Didn’t your wants count? What about whether it suited you? But she remained silent, for he suddenly grew pensive as his gaze came to rest on the letter. Kate suddenly realized that whatever it contained accounted for his recent shock. And that it had something to do with Cindy.
She looked over at him, and their gazes met. She didn’t want to pry, but she wanted him to know that she cared. “I’m a good listener, Eric,” she said quietly.
He studied her for a moment, then sighed and turned away to retrieve their mugs. Kate tried not to be hurt by his silence. After all, they were recent acquaintances. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep his problem private. But when he sat down he surprised her.
“That letter is from Cindy’s sister.”
Kate looked at him curiously but remained quiet.
“Cindy died a couple of weeks ago.”
