by Stacy Adams
“I know this is difficult,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to California?”
He heard a heavy sigh and suspected she was crying. Gabe settled back into his seat. “This must be traumatic for you, especially with Jillian being so young. I’m so sorry.”
Silence permeated the airwaves.
“You know what, Gabe?”
He could tell that Rachelle was clinching her teeth.
“I am insulted,” she said. “I’ve heard you assume this same tone hundreds of times when you’ve had to make difficult calls to your patients or their relatives. I would think that you’d have some real empathy to share with your wife, not some canned method you honed in med school.”
Gabe winced. He had underestimated her.
“What do you want anyway?” Rachelle asked.
This was it. The moment to get everything back on track. “Look, Rachelle, I’m sorry about everything that I’ve said or done over the past few days to upset you,” Gabe said as softly as he could, hoping that the doctors, who had begun to meet in the lobby for the upcoming sessions, weren’t listening. “Just come home so we can figure it out, okay? I’m taking a flight out tonight and will be there by seven p.m. Can you get to Houston by then and pick me up from the airport?”
Rachelle’s laugh was short and dry. He wished he could see her face; she sounded so unlike herself.
“Do I have ‘Taxi Driver’ stamped across my forehead, Gabe? Sorry—can’t do it,” Rachelle said. “And by the way, I gave Helen the week off, so she’s not going to be there, either.
“I’m at Aunt Irene’s for a barbecue in honor of Indigo’s birthday. She turned fifteen yesterday. Plus, I haven’t spent any time with my aunt and uncle in forever, thanks to you. I’m here now, so I might as well stay and enjoy myself.”
Gabe rose from the seat and grabbed his briefcase, which sat near his feet. “Rachelle, why are you doing this? I’ll be home tonight and I’m leaving for Uganda on Tuesday, remember? What’s going on? Are you messing around? Don’t be stupid.”
Rachelle wasn’t the type to cheat, but something clearly had her acting out of character. Did she know about Veronica? He quickly dismissed that thought. He had been too careful.
Maybe it was simply the shock of Jillian’s looming death. Whatever the cause, he needed to nip it, because it had Rachelle pushing all the boundaries.
He hated for her to go back to Jubilant without him. Somehow she always wound up on Everson’s campus, visiting the special spots she had shared with Troy or passing the church where she had eloped with Troy or visiting the aunt and uncle who had loved Troy as much as they had loved her.
Now she had defied his wishes and was probably there rehashing her past at a time when she was angry with him. At least Troy had moved away a long time ago.
He frowned again and wished he could get her under control. For now, he’d just be happy to have her home.
“Gabe, I’m sorry, but I won’t be there tonight,” Rachelle said, more calmly this time. “I’ll think about coming tomorrow, to be there before you leave for Uganda. In case I don’t, I’ve already packed your bags. They’re tucked in the right corner of your closet. Your passport and travel checklist are there too, okay? Be safe.”
She ended the call without giving him a chance to respond. Here he was, preparing to travel to Africa, and his wife was abandoning him.
Gabe placed the Blackberry in his belt clip and walked toward Stevens, who was waiting near the elevators, eyeing him.
“Everything all right? Ready for our presentation?”
Gabe forced a smile and clapped his friend and colleague on the back. “Ready as I’ll ever be, man. Let’s do it.”
Right now, work required his focus. Whether it happened tonight or after his ten-day stay in Uganda, he was going to put Rachelle in check. The other docs bragged all the time about straightening out their wives and girlfriends and reminding them who wore the pants. He’d never had a problem with Rachelle, and as far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t for much longer.
When he was off of his game because of distractions at home, someone’s life potentially could be jeopardized. If she wanted him to continue living up to his duties as her husband, she needed to fall in line as his wife.
12
Rachelle knew she had gone overboard, but it felt great.
Every jibe she uttered made up for the years of stuffing down her emotions, biting her tongue, and letting Gabe make decisions that weren’t always wise or fair.
She hadn’t meant to twist the knife, but when he had failed to ask why Jillian was dying or how much longer she might live, Rachelle’s hope that he really wanted to make things right faded. The fact that he couldn’t muster up genuine concern over the imminent death of a woman she had once been so close to broke her heart.
Granted, Gabe continued to hold a grudge against Jillian for refusing to participate in their wedding; but under these circumstances, none of that mattered.
Rachelle leaned back on Reuben’s bed, where she found herself for a second time today fielding a private call. She could hear the partygoers just outside the window, laughing and chatting.
She felt like curling up and taking a nap, which wasn’t an option. But then again, facing Troy, who was outside with the other guests, wasn’t either.
She sat up and stared at the suitcase in the corner. Technically, she could repeat her actions from a few days ago and sneak out of the house unseen. The thought both intrigued and rattled her.
How would that feel—to up and go, leaving Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles a note, informing them that she would be back to visit at another time? They’d get the message that she didn’t appreciate how they had handled Troy’s arrival, without her having to initiate another uncomfortable conversation like the one with Uncle Charles this afternoon. And maybe the next time something like this came up, they’d treat her like an adult, instead of a child who needed to be spoon-fed the news.
I should do it, she thought. Her heart pounded as she envisioned the scenario. Isn’t that what I want?
Well, respect, yes, but not at the risk of losing the adoration she had always received from her aunt and uncle. Was it possible to get both? If she changed the status quo, would their affections shift, too?
Honoring Jillian’s request to thrive and be happy wasn’t going to be easy. In the few days since she had promised to live in that fashion, she was realizing that she had been existing like a wind-up doll, going through the motions and following expectations set by others. She had somehow numbed herself to the possibility of writing her own script, like Jillian had managed to do.
Was it too late? She just didn’t know. But hurting Aunt Irene’s and Uncle Charles’s feelings this afternoon wasn’t the answer. Jillian hadn’t told her to rush the process; she had simply urged her to begin.
Rachelle surveyed Reuben’s walls, which were plastered with an eclectic mix of posters, ranging from those featuring the poses of his favorite sports figures to the beguiling glances of singers Beyoncé and Rihanna.
She chuckled. Is this what she had to look forward to when Tate was older?
She stood up and stretched. She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to return to the barbecue before Aunt Irene or Aunt Melba came searching for her. She had to face Troy Hardy.
Rachelle followed the hallway from the bedroom to the kitchen, as before. This time the pictures didn’t distract her; she was trying to prepare for whatever awaited her outside.
However, just as she reached for the double-paned door leading to the backyard, Troy pulled it open. The two of them nearly collided. He kept her from tripping over his feet by grabbing her arm.
Great, Rachelle thought, just great.
Troy quickly let go once she had steadied herself.
“Hello, Rachelle,” he said. “Sorry about that. I’m looking for the bathroom.”
He stepped aside and pulled the door open so she could exit
.
She was surprised, expecting him to try and make small talk.
“Thanks, Troy. It’s right down the hallway.” She motioned to the area she’d just left, but made no effort to walk past him. “It’s nice to see you. Congratulations on your position at the church. I didn’t know you were pursuing music as a career.”
She could have kicked herself. That sounded so dumb. How would she know what he had been doing for the past decade unless she had been stalking him?
Her eyes were drawn to his dimpled chin when he smiled at her. He was about ten pounds heavier, but it was in all the right places. She thought about her hastily secured ponytail and her rumpled, sweaty outfit. She must look a hot mess.
“Yep, I’ve been fortunate to use both sides of my brain—the artistic and analytical sides,” Troy said. “Engineering and music have been a good combination.”
He was still holding the door open for her and gave her a quizzical look. Rachelle had more questions—like where was the mother of his child?—but didn’t want to seem overly interested.
Humph. Funny how the tables had turned. She had been intent on fleeing from him after church today, but he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by her.
She nodded and stepped outside. “Well, good to see you. I hope you and your daughter enjoy St. Peter’s.”
Troy hesitated and cleared his throat. “I’m sure we will. Pastor Taylor is a great leader, and the members have already given us a warm welcome. It’s good to see you, Rachelle.”
With that, he slid into the kitchen and let the door close behind him.
Rachelle stood there for a moment to get her bearings. The encounter had been odd. Not as uncomfortable as she had expected, but somehow unsettling for that very reason.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts and wandered over to the grill, where Aunt Melba was begging Uncle Charles to burn her a hot dog.
“You know how I like them—nice and crispy,” Melba said.
Uncle Charles shook his head. “You and your burnt stuff, girl. Burnt baloney, burnt hot dogs, burnt—”
“Dates!” Melba finished for him and laughed.
“Dates?” Rachelle asked and laughed. “Are you still breaking hearts, Aunt Melba?”
She smiled slyly. “Can’t tell all my business, niecey. Some things need to remain between me and the Lord. I’m single, so I can keep looking.”
She put her hand on her hip and leveled her eyes at Rachelle. “You on the other hand? Watch it. I just saw that exchange with Mr. Ex-Husband in the doorway. Be careful, Rachelle.”
13
By the time the last guest left around nine p.m., Rachelle was emotionally and physically spent.
Jet lag from her early morning flight had caught up with her, and she struggled to make small talk with Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles while they tidied the kitchen.
Everyone in the Burns family, except the resident teenager, seemed ready to fall into bed too. Indigo had wandered off to the family room with her cell phone attached to her ear, chattering with the same level of energy she possessed six hours earlier.
Rachelle returned to Reuben’s bedroom and removed her sandals. This time she lay across his twin-sized bed as if she owned it.
She hadn’t slept in something this small in forever, but if Reuben, who was nearly six feet, could fit comfortably, she figured she should fit too. At least the mattress was firm.
There was a light rap on the door and Aunt Irene peeked inside. “Got a minute to chat, or are you about to pass out?”
Rachelle rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Come in, Aunt Irene; we haven’t had a chance to catch up. Besides, I need to talk to Tate and Taryn before I call it a night.”
Aunt Irene shuffled into the room and eased herself onto the bed.
“When will you have your hip replacement surgery?” Rachelle asked.
Aunt Irene sighed. “Soon, I hope. My doctor was scheduled to perform it last month, but had a ministroke. Another orthopedic surgeon has taken on Dr. Cain’s patients in addition to his own, so he hasn’t let me know yet when he can work me in.”
Rachelle patted her hand. “It seems painful . . . Is that why you had something stronger than water in that red cup?”
A wave of embarrassment crossed Aunt Irene’s face. “I was joking with you. You know me better than that!”
Rachelle wasn’t convinced, but didn’t press the issue. She had no right to interrogate her aunt.
“Enough about me. What’s going on with you?” Aunt Irene asked. “Why are you here without Gabe? And why did you run inside at the first sighting of Troy? He’s not going to bite, you know. I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s reality.”
“If it’s reality, then why didn’t you tell me that he had been hired by your church?” Rachelle bit her tongue. “Sorry.”
Aunt Irene ignored Rachelle’s tone and her apology. “Again, I’m asking, what’s going on?”
Rachelle shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just fed up. I don’t know what I want anymore and whether I even want to be with Gabe anymore. I’m tired of being with someone who thinks the world revolves around him and that as his wife, I’m here to cater to him.”
Aunt Irene leveled her gaze at Rachelle. “Let’s get real, young lady. The man you’re describing is the same man you met soon after moving to Houston for optometry school. He was self-absorbed then and he’s self-absorbed now. I know you didn’t marry him expecting to change him. Did you?”
Rachelle sat back and looked at her aunt. “What do you mean Gabe was self-absorbed? I thought you liked him. I mean I know you weren’t crazy about him like you were about . . . Troy, but still.”
Aunt Irene shook her head. “Rachelle, this has nothing to do with me liking or disliking Gabe. That should only matter for you—you’re the one who has to live with him.
“But in response to your comment, I never knew him as well as Troy, because you two began dating after you graduated from Everson. However, I saw what I saw, and I thought you did too. Didn’t I tell you before you married him to expect the things you liked about him to get better and the things that annoyed you to get worse?
“I know I must have,” Aunt Irene said, “because it’s true. When you’re in love, you see everything through those rose-colored glasses. The things that get on your nerves are okay because he’s your prince, or in Gabe’s case, your king. But let a few years pass and get a few babies and a few bills, and those same things can drive you right out the door.”
Rachelle pursed her lips. “What if I really didn’t love him? What if I just thought I did? Or, I was taking my chance with him because I kept hearing he was a ‘good catch,’ and I didn’t want to be old and lonely?”
Aunt Irene smiled. “As pretty as you are, that should have never entered your mind,” she said. “But you wouldn’t be the first to choose a mate for that reason. That doesn’t always mean you won’t grow into love, but it can make for a harder road to travel.
“Now, here you are, deep into this, with two kids to think about and, what? Are you thinking of leaving him?”
Rachelle shrugged and lowered her head. “I kinda have,” she said. “He’s coming home from a medical conference tonight and I’m here. He leaves for Uganda on Tuesday, and I don’t think I’m going home to see him off.”
She lifted her eyes to gauge Aunt Irene’s reaction. There was none.
“Can you believe Gabe is even going on a medical mission trip?” Rachelle continued. “It’s Christian-based too. The church that his surgery partner attends is heavily involved, and Lyle finally convinced him to go along.”
Aunt Irene nodded. “See what I mean? Do you hear yourself? Even what you’re saying about him now makes him sound like he’s more into himself than anyone else—you’re surprised that he would go on a mission trip, to help others in need,” she said. “What you’re going to have to decide is how you can be the Rachelle God has called you to be, regardless of what Gabe wants or demands from you, because in the end, you’l
l have to stand before him one day for yourself, and be accountable for how you used this life he gave you.
“But”—Aunt Irene raised a forefinger—“I’m not saying that you can’t do that and stay with your husband. Marriage is a ministry too, you know. God can work through a union centered on him to do wonderful things that bless others.”
Rachelle frowned. “A ministry? Okay, that’s a new one for me.”
Aunt Irene laughed. “Trust me. If I didn’t believe that the life Charles and I have created together somehow draws others to God, and if I didn’t understand that one of my reasons for staying committed is to honor my promise before God, I might have left a few times myself.”
Rachelle’s dismay must have registered on her face.
“That’s okay,” Aunt Irene said. “I know you’re thinking that your favorite uncle couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. He is a good man, Rachelle, but he’s still a man. And no matter how good he is, unless you have to live with him, you just don’t know!
“But back to you. You have to find Rachelle’s purpose, and use that to guide you toward happiness and fulfillment.”
Rachelle thought again about her blank Top Ten List. “That’s the second time in less than a week that I’ve received advice like that. You remember my friend Jillian?”
Aunt Irene smiled. “Yes! How is that lovely girl doing? She had a bright future when she graduated from Everson. I just knew she was going to do well.”
Rachelle smiled. “She has done well, Aunt Irene. She continued with her photography and has traveled the world shooting pictures for National Geographic magazine. And you know what? Somewhere along the way, she found God.”
Aunt Irene raised an eyebrow. “Did she, now? Actually, Rachelle, God was there all along. Jillian must have decided ‘somewhere along the way’ to open her heart to him.”
Rachelle pondered that perspective. Was that why she couldn’t hear from God—because her heart wasn’t open?
“I saw Jillian over the weekend for the first time in years,” Rachelle said. “You probably remember that she didn’t come to my wedding, and after that we fell out of touch. Now she’s dying, Aunt Irene. She has breast cancer.”
