The Someday List

by Stacy Adams

  Stevens tumbled in with them, breathless but excited. He motioned for Malichi to take off.

  The two boys huddled together on the seat. The girl climbed onto Gabe’s lap and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She clung to his shirt as if they were on a tightrope and if she let go, she would spin into a freefall.

  Gabe was speechless.

  Akello turned toward the children and spoke to them in Acholi, their tribal language.

  “I told them they are safe and they can go to sleep,” he said as Malichi drove swiftly, racing through the cover of night to reach southern Uganda. “They know we are their caretakers until we get them to the orphanage. I told them we are good friends and that we will protect them, okay?”

  Gabe nodded. Wait until he told Rachelle about this.

  Then he realized he couldn’t, not only because he couldn’t risk the safety of these three youngsters and other children like them, but also because maybe it was too late for his marriage.

  Yet the biblical passage that Stevens had shared with him just last night, before they set out on this adventure, had encouraged him.

  With God, nothing is impossible.

  Gabe stroked the cheek of the little girl who lay against his chest falling into a deeper sleep with each mile they crossed, and he knew.

  It was time to go home. For good.

  35

  The years peeled away as Rachelle sat on Melba’s red sofa, across from Troy.

  She and Troy were twenty-one and twenty-two again, standing at the altar preparing to say “I do.” She saw it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. And yet, it had not.

  Pastor Taylor and Aunt Melba abruptly reminded her of that. She and Troy were fifteen years older now and had become different people, living different lives. The only context in which they needed to view that November 9 wedding was one that allowed them to grieve for its potential and put it to rest.

  Pastor Taylor and Aunt Melba agreed on those ground rules from the beginning.

  “That just clears up why we’re here,” Pastor Taylor said. “There’s no need to play games or be coy in the hopes that it will allow you to rekindle what you once had. That relationship died a long time ago, without a proper burial.

  “I’m not saying you can turn your emotions on and off like a faucet—I know that’s impossible,” he said. “But your memories and feelings about this part of your past can’t continue to shape your future. It’s just not healthy.”

  He sat back and folded his arms. “Right now, I’m not Pastor Taylor. I’m Malcolm—Troy’s ‘uncle,’ here to listen and offer fair and equal support.”

  Aunt Melba nodded. “You know who I am. I’ve known you since your sophomore year of college, Troy. I’m here to listen and help both of you.”

  Pastor Taylor—Malcolm—looked at Rachelle. “You’re married with two children. I don’t know the status of your relationship with your husband, but the fact that you’re here is a bit telling.”

  He turned to Troy. “You’ve been engaged twice and just went through the breakup of another serious relationship. I know you’re tired of this happening.”

  Rachelle tried to mask her surprise. Troy had as much at stake as she did.

  Pastor Taylor sighed and rested his hands on his miniature paunch. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  With his laid-back demeanor and gentle smile, he seemed safe. Rachelle understood why Troy confided in him.

  “I’ve been here for almost three weeks and nobody has addressed the fact that Troy was my first love—the love of my life,” Rachelle said. “Everybody keeps telling me to get myself together and focus on my husband, without acknowledging that things weren’t right in my second marriage from the start because of my feelings for Troy.

  “Troy and I loved each other enough to get married, and even though everyone thought it was too soon and inappropriate to elope, for us it was right.”

  Troy leaned forward and made a teepee with his hands. “Then why did you leave me, Rachelle? And if you felt you had to, why didn’t you tell me face-to-face?”

  His voice was controlled, but she heard the thread of hurt coursing through the question. Rachelle felt it too.

  She lowered her eyes. “I couldn’t tell you face-to-face because, first of all, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it. One look in your eyes and I wouldn’t have left.”

  Melba leaned over and touched her arm. “Look at Troy while you’re talking to him now, Rachelle. Look him in the eyes.”

  That was the problem. She still couldn’t bring herself to do that. She loved him too much to really tell him goodbye.

  She considered the revelation about his relationship woes. This was about his healing as much as hers. She owed him all she could give.

  Troy obviously saw her struggling. He took her hand in his. “I love you, Rachelle.”

  She looked at Aunt Melba for the usual warning and tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t loosen his grasp. Melba didn’t react.

  “Let me finish,” Troy said. “I loved you from the first time I saw you on Everson’s campus, heading into the McPherson Hall choir room. When you opened your mouth and sang like an angel, I think my heart memorized your name. That won’t ever change.

  “We dated for three years and didn’t make the decision to marry lightly,” he said. “We got married during our senior year so we could find graduate programs that met both our needs, remember?”

  Rachelle recalled the late nights they had spent mapping out their five-year plan after choir rehearsals, over homework, pizza, and tender kisses.

  “We had it all figured out, didn’t we?” she said, mindful that he continued to grasp her hand.

  “What we had then was real,” Troy said. He peered at her until she locked eyes with him. “And for one crazy moment last week, I thought it was still real.”

  Rachelle held her breath.

  “But you and I both know that it’s not,” Troy said. “I am sorry I overstepped my bounds and kissed you. I was out of line and just plain wrong. I’m representing God before everyone I encounter—even you, and I apologize.”

  Rachelle didn’t know what to say. She was the one who owed him an apology. More than one. She was the one who shattered their marriage and never told him why. She was the one who remarried, thinking she could forget what they had.

  Pastor Taylor cleared his throat. “Was that all you wanted to say, Troy?”

  He shook his head. “No, I guess not. This conversation has been a long time coming, and I really just need to get everything out.

  “I told you I forgave you, Rachelle, and in my head, I did, a long time ago. But if you ask the two women I dated after grad school at Georgia Tech whether I was over you, they would beg to differ. So would the woman I asked to marry me just before I moved back to Jubilant.”

  Rachelle’s eyes grew large. There was someone else? What was all this talk for, then?

  Troy produced a slow smile. “I know you’re wondering where that came from. But yes, I’ve dated and I’ve been in love with other people. I’m in love with someone now, but she doesn’t believe that I love her as much or more than I loved you.

  “She keeps telling me that you are the silent partner in our relationship, because I trust her just enough to love me, but not enough to let down my guard, in case she decides to leave too.”

  Rachelle felt the golf ball–sized lump in her throat expand into a grapefruit. “Troy, I am so sorry. I’m sorry for promising to spend my life with you and instead, leaving you a good-bye note next to your coffee cup. I’m sorry for putting my desire to please my parents before our marriage. They dangled the threat of not paying for me to go to optometry school if I didn’t move on with my life without you, but I’m wise enough to know now that if I had wanted it badly enough, I would have found other ways to reach that goal.”

  Rachelle inhaled. No tears today, please, God. “I’ve never loved anyone as deeply as I loved you, Troy. Not even my husband, Gabe. And all these years, I think he�
��s known it, so I owe him an apology too. After that kiss last week, I realized that we can’t go back in time. We’re different people. But I don’t think that will ever keep me from loving you, or being in love with the man you were.”

  Pastor Taylor laid his hands on top of both of theirs, which were still locked together. “I’m hearing a lot of regret,” he said. “Yes, it’s too late to think that you two can pick up where you left off and spend your lives together, happily after ever. But it’s not too late to acknowledge a never-ending affection for each other. You can feel strongly about someone and still decide to move on. If your decision honors God, he’ll give you beauty, even for those ashes.”

  As Pastor Taylor gave their hands a squeeze and leaned back, Rachelle slipped her hand out of Troy’s.

  She accepted his answer. However, the unspoken question was, what would it mean if they didn’t want to move on? What if they did want to try again? Why was everyone so adamant that they shouldn’t?

  Rachelle wanted those answers, even though she didn’t deserve them.

  She saw something she didn’t quite understand in Troy’s eyes too. He looked from her to Melba to Pastor Taylor.

  “I’ve been living in the land of what-if for years,” he said. “What if Rachelle found me and wanted to try again? What if she was still single and we could pick up where we left off? What if our love was strong enough to overcome any challenges that our reunion might cause the people around us? Those are legitimate questions, aren’t they?”

  Aunt Melba pursed her lips. “He’s right, Pastor Taylor. People ask those questions every single day and decide that finding answers is worth risking everything else. Usually the odds are stacked against them, but that can’t always be the case.”

  She turned her attention to Troy and Rachelle.

  “When those questions arise, I think you need to not only look at just the Troy and Rachelle equation,” Aunt Melba said. “Look at the panorama of your lives. Everything—from your service to God to your careers to your hobbies to your extended family to your long-term life vision. In the entire scheme of things, ask yourself where a relationship between you two would fit.”

  She sat back on the sofa and shook her head. “I don’t know that either of you have ready answers to those broad questions today.”

  Rachelle leaned forward. “Melba’s right, Troy—my feelings for you can’t rule my entire life. I’m not prepared to put everything on hold like I’ve been fantasizing about doing.

  “But I am prepared to tell you that you did absolutely nothing wrong. You were a good husband and you are a good man. You loved me and treated me like I was your queen. I was just plain stupid to leave you. But I did, and I have to live with that.

  “When we got married, I was a baby in a grown woman’s body. I allowed my parents to orchestrate my every move, and I’m still dealing with issues of control with them that I need to address. And all these years later, I’ve realized that I still don’t really know who I am or what I want out of life. I need to figure that out before I do anything else.”

  Troy sat back in his chair and folded his arms, oblivious to the tears that now streamed down his face. “So that’s it, Rachelle? You left me on a whim because your mommy and daddy said so? My mother was just a seamstress and my Rolling Stone daddy was a bus driver, so I wasn’t good enough. That’s the answer I’ve been longing for all these years? You should have just put that in your farewell note.”

  They sat in silence and let those words simmer.

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” Pastor Taylor told Rachelle. “You’d be surprised at how many people go through life making choices based on someone else’s likes and dislikes or because someone else is footing the bill.”

  Rachelle looked at him. He must think she was awful.

  Pastor Taylor shook his head. “I see it every day, from the pulpit to the pew. No one is immune. The interesting thing is that God brought both of you back to Jubilant this summer to revisit this.”

  He looked at Troy. “You took a job here, in the place where you had your heart broken, for a reason. Something led you here, before you even knew Rachelle was coming for an extended visit. What was it?”

  Troy shrugged. “When they called and told me about the engineering department fellowship, I saw it as a great opportunity for me and a good place to raise Chaundra. You were here and there was an opening at the church, so that was the icing on the cake. I prayed about it and told God that if this wasn’t for me, to close the door. Instead, he opened it wide.”

  Pastor Taylor turned to Rachelle. She looked at Troy.

  “I haven’t mentioned this, but Jillian is dying,” she said softly. She gave Troy a moment to absorb the news.

  “I learned about a month ago that she has terminal cancer, and in dealing with that news, I just . . . flipped. This other side of me tried to break free. On the morning my plane landed in Houston after a visit with Jillian, instead of going home to my so-called fabulous life, I directed the car here, to the one place I remembered being truly happy, other than when I gave birth to my children. That’s why I’m here. I guess I was chasing happiness, and it just so happened that the biggest part of that—you, Troy—wound up being here to meet me.”

  Pastor Taylor looked from one to the other. “So what are you two going to do now?” he asked. “Your feelings for each other aren’t going to dissipate like smoke. How are you going to handle that?”

  Rachelle and Troy stared at each other for the longest time, as if they were mustering the courage to get it over with.

  “I want you to be happy, Troy,” Rachelle said. “I’ll always love you, and I’ll always wish the best for you.”

  Troy held her gaze and gave her a half smile. “Here I am, a grown man who still gets weak-kneed in your presence. And yet, I know I’m in love with who you were, because I don’t really know you now. Thank you for telling me what happened; I’ve wondered all these years what I could have done differently. I’ll always love you too.”

  He gathered Rachelle in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His embrace felt good, but for the first time in forever, she realized she didn’t belong there.

  36

  Rachelle’s eyes flew open and she clutched her throat.

  She sat up in bed and wiped sweat from her brow. A single word came to her.

  Pray.

  She frowned.

  Her? Pray? For who? For what?

  Jillian.

  She struggled to fight off panic. She wanted to get up and run downstairs to the living room, where Aunt Irene lay resting. She would know what to say.

  Or maybe Uncle Charles could help her—he was a deacon in the church. She had heard him render some moving prayers from the altar at St. Peter’s Baptist.

  What did she know, except the prayers she had recited on occasion as a child?

  Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep . . .

  Then there were the ones she bowed to nearly two decades ago, during her choir days in college. Watching her fellow choir members pray with such passion and faith had been awe-inspiring. She had been curious about what that felt like, but had never sought an answer. Life had been pretty good without extra rules and commandments.

  This morning, though, something or someone was summoning her to speak, and for the first time in a long time, she believed it was God. He had put Jillian on her heart and mind, and knowing her friend’s circumstances, she was willing to help however she could.

  Rachelle slowly climbed out of Reuben’s bed and knelt against it, on her knees. She bowed her head and cupped her hands in front of her.

  “God,” she said in a whisper. “You haven’t heard from me in a long, long time, but I think you just woke me up. For Jillian, my sister-friend. Seems like you and she have a wonderful friendship, and even though you’ll be taking her away from this earth soon, she’s satisfied with the love you’ve shown her. I don’t know where she is in that process or what her
needs are this morning, but God, I ask that you grant her the peace and comfort that you are able to provide. Let her still be happy, God, and trusting you to do what’s best. Amen.”

  Rachelle remained in that position for several more minutes and let the tears fall. Somehow, she knew God had heard and answered. She felt a calm wash over her that she had never before experienced.

  She recalled the prayer she had uttered just weeks earlier, when she lay across the bed in the Hotel Magnolia and begged God to give her a sign that he existed.

  In the wee hours of this day, he had, and to her surprise, she welcomed his presence.

  37

  Rachelle poured her third cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table alone, twiddling her thumbs and watching the red lights of the digital clock like a hawk.

  When it was officially 10 a.m. Central Time and 8 a.m. Pacific, she called San Diego.

  Patrick, Jillian’s husband, picked up on the second ring. “Good morning, Rachelle. How did you know to call?” he asked. Obviously he had caller ID.

  Rachelle gripped the phone tighter.

  Please, God, no . . .

  Patrick understood the silence and quickly reassured her. “No, it’s not that, Rachelle,” he said. “Jillian’s still with us. But she has been in a lot of pain because she’s refusing to take regular doses of her medication. She wants to be as lucid as possible these last few weeks. She reminisced all day yesterday about the things you guys did together over the years. Your call is going to thrill her.”

  Rachelle was simultaneously heartened and saddened. She hated to think of her beautiful friend suffering so much. “Does she feel up to talking, Patrick?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “She consumes enough medicine to take the edge off the pain, to get to what she calls her ‘good zone.’ That allows her to function during the day. The pain comes back full force just around nightfall, and she’ll go ahead and fully medicate then, for the evening. She’s right here, Rachelle. Let me give her the phone.”