“There are more than two sides to every story. I’ve learned there’s his, and hers, and somewhere between them is the truth. I figure you two are getting around to the truth. Am I right?”
“You could say that, yeah.”
“Then I’ll thank you for making my little girl very happy. God knows I couldn’t buy those horses from you outright. This way they’re Rachel’s. It means more.”
Rick offered his hand. Nick accepted.
“You’ll see us at church,” Nicholas said. “No need to be strangers.”
“I appreciate that,” Rick said. “Ya’ll come see the horses any time.”
“Thanks.”
They finished sweeping, returned the brooms. Nicholas walked to the arena gate where Angelina stood watching Rachel walk Godiva.
“Are you still sure?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” she said. “I just spoke with Julie in the tack room.”
“I would have gone with you. You didn’t have to do that alone.”
“My mess. I should be the one to clean it up.”
He waited, hoping she’d tell him what happened.
“I apologized for what I did, made sure she knew Rick did nothing wrong. Then I told her I haven’t been this embarrassed in a long time. I expected an awkward silence and hard looks. Instead, she thanked me for thinking of Rachel. She said she forgives me. I almost didn’t know what to say.”
“What did you say?”
“What could I say, but thank you? I’m a little sad, though. I think she and I might have been friends.” She paused. “Maybe one day. She and Laurie are friends, so, yeah, maybe one day.”
He drew her closer. He kissed her hair and held his lips there.
“Can you imagine me having two female friends?” she asked.
“I think that’d be great. Add Kay, and you’ve got three.”
“If things were different, I think you and Rick could have been friends. I’m sorry I might have ruined that.”
“You didn’t ruin it. And I’m not mad. We were both wrong. I’d rather hold on to you than a grudge. I love you.”
She turned to him, chewing her bottom lip. For half a second, she gently touched her mouth to his, then laid her head on his shoulder. “I love you, too,” she whispered.
The boulder sitting on his heart was lifted away. He actually felt his chest expand in relief, then tighten again. He wished he’d never bought that first property, never met Gavin Hawk.
He wished he’d valued his wife and marriage more than money.
“I couldn’t help asking Julie why she was willing to forgive me,” she said.
“What did she say?” He slid his arm around her waist.
Angelina fidgeted with the chains at her neck. “She said she figured I wouldn’t apologize if I still wanted her husband. She laughed when she said it—kind of lightened the mood, you know? Then she said it’s because God and Rick have forgiven her so much.”
“I suppose we can relate to that.”
“It’s been a very humbling week for both of us.”
“It has.”
“We’re starting over, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” he said. “I think we really are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
She hadn’t looked forward to going to church in a long time. Yet this morning, excitement simmered inside Angelina. Not simply because Nicholas was home and would be joining her. No, for the first time, she wanted to go. She wanted so badly to grow her relationship with God, if Nicholas backed out or were summoned by Julius at the last minute, she’d happily go to The Barn Church alone.
Sitting on the couch in the carriage house, she slipped on boots, her wedding rings, and the set of metal bracelets Nick had given her the night before. From a trip to India, he’d said, when he’d spent a couple of hours strolling an open market and watched a woman create jewelry from melted-down pennies. The artisan had worked with the same intensity Nick remembered seeing in Angelina when she painted.
Angelina gathered her purse, coat, and keys, and caught herself scanning her work area. She’d not worked on the desert painting, nor the two others waiting to be completed, in days. Glancing now at the bangles on her wrists, the urge to invite Nicholas into her workspace, to show him her work, swelled in her heart.
After church this morning, she might do just that.
She walked to the main house. They shared a meal of breakfast casserole, then Nick drove them to church in his car.
News vans sat at the edge of the full, grassy parking lot, no doubt waiting to pounce.
“Does Julius know about this?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “Do you see him? I’ll pull up close to the doors so you can hurry inside without being accosted.”
He stopped near the doors, and she stilled his hand.
“I’ll stay with you if you want me to,” she said. “So you don’t have to face this alone.”
“I always want you with me.”
Julius knocked on Angie’s window; she lowered it.
“Park around back. Pierce is waiting at the rear door.”
“What about the media?”
He grinned. “Pierce has a plan.”
They followed Julius’ instructions and found Pierce waiting. He led them inside.
“Maybe we should leave,” Nick told Pierce.
“Oh, no. Didn’t you see the building is packed? Dad sees this as an opportunity. Says we should take advantage of it.”
“I don’t understand,” Angelina said.
“That’s right. You two wouldn’t have watched the news this morning. The local affiliates dug up Julius’ history and opened this morning with the headline Local Ex-Thief and Drug Addict Defends Con Man From Same Local Church. Dad suggested Julius offer a statement—from the pulpit. He’s going to give his testimony first.”
Angelina laughed. “No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is.”
“The press and nosey spectators won’t stay to hear the truth,” Nick said.
“They might not,” Pierce said. “If they do, they’ll hear the gospel, too.”
Pierce turned to Angie. “You ready to be a spectacle?”
She certainly hadn’t planned on it. Merely sitting with Kay in the front row was a huge step.
“We didn’t string up a banner with your face plastered on it,” Pierce said. “But texts between church members have been flying this morning. You’re going to be welcomed, Angelina. Get ready for hugs.”
“Look at my hands.” She held them out so the men could see them shaking.
“Pierce. Give us a minute?” Nick asked.
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
Pierce left them in the back hall.
Nick moved to stand in front of her. “We should get remarried here.”
“Nicholas! That’s too fast.”
“I know. I’m jumping the gun. Sorry. Some habits die hard.” He grinned. “Although I would love the chance to marry you again, do it right and include God this time.”
“Can we just get through this morning?”
“You stopped shaking. Guess I distracted you enough, huh?”
“I suppose you did.”
Pierce returned. “I just made an announcement to the congregation. Dad’s cleared the front two rows and aisle on one side for the media. He’s going to get them.”
Angelina blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“You know my dad,” Pierce said. “Do you think I’m kidding?”
They waited a few minutes. Then, Pierce ushered them into the sanctuary from the door behind the stage. Bulbs flashed. Reporters spoke into television cameras. Laurie and Kay flanked Angelina as Julius took Nick aside. The congregation stood, and Angelina caught the gaze of Clyde and Millie Newman. Deacon Floyd and his little wife. And finally, Daniel.
Her church, she thought. These people were her church family.
The choir started to sing “How Great Thou Art.”
She joine
d arms with Laurie and Kay and walked down the steps to sit with her friends. How great, indeed.
The song ended. During other services she’d attended, Angelina remembered listening as the choir and congregation sang several songs. But this morning, they stopped after one. Daniel stepped to the pulpit and motioned for Julius to join him. He explained about the media’s presence in the service, about Nick’s predicament, and encouraged folks to pray for Nick and Angelina.
She felt eyes on her. Some of those gazes were probably full of speculation and judgment. But she let herself glance up and to each side. Mostly she saw compassion. Several mouthed Praying for you. Deacon Floyd’s wife crossed her arms over her heart, an obvious gesture of love and care.
Kay patted Angie’s knee, and Angelina felt her heart open to the people around her. No matter what the future held for Nick, she need never be alone or lonely again.
Julius stepped to the microphone. “Good morning, everyone. Some of you will remember me as the kid who, years ago, stole from the church, went into drug rehab, then became a lawyer. That’s what happened, but it’s not what I want you to take away from this morning.
“I grew up attending this church. I watched my parents live godly lives. I heard sound, scriptural teaching. I learned—I knew right from wrong, and I knew about Jesus and His death for us.
“What I didn’t know was everything I needed for every moment of my life was already waiting for me at the foot of the cross. I didn’t know the gifts—presents, if you will—which waited for me to simply open and receive.”
Presents.
As Angelina listened to Julius, the word prompted an image to form in her spirit.
Gifts. For her. Strewn around the base of the cross. Waiting for her to open.
Waiting. For her to receive and use and enjoy.
She looked over at Nick.
She’d thought she understood God’s love in providing for her salvation, then thought she’d lost it when she’d come so close to committing adultery.
She’d thought she understood Nick’s love in marrying her, then thought she’d lost it when he’d repeatedly left her.
Love didn’t work that way. Not God’s love. Not real love.
Love continued offering.
Gift after gift. Present after present.
A smile spread across her face. Not the practiced, pageant smile she’d learned to depend on to keep others at bay. No, this smile came from deep inside—the smile of a child who’d discovered the joy of being loved and wanted and valued. The smile of a woman who knew she was loved and wanted and remembered.
She wanted every gift God had for her.
She wanted every present from Nick she’d refused to open before.
And it’s only been a few days, she thought. Only a few days since she’d re-opened her life and heart to God, to Nick.
What wonderful things could happen if she continued on this path for the next week? Month? Year?
Angelina looked to heaven.
Dear God, I want it all—forgiveness, mercy, wisdom, strength—all of You and everything You have for me. And if You grant me time with Nick, I vow I’ll receive and appreciate every moment, every gift he gives, too.
***
“That was some service.” Nicholas walked with Angelina to the carriage house. “I’m still surprised a few of the media actually stayed.”
“Did you know about Julius being injured while playing football, then getting addicted to painkillers and other drugs?” she asked.
“No. But I believe it. Believable, too, that he thought sports were his only path to a successful life, so being hurt would seem to threaten his whole future.”
“I’m glad we’ve got him on our side.”
“Me, too,” he said. “He’s good at calming me down, that’s for sure. Sometimes I still can’t believe all that’s happening. I’ll probably have to take another polygraph this week. Julius says it’s another step toward my absolution.”
Knowing at any moment, his time with her could be taken away was starting to wear on his nerves. Dear God, please give me more time with her.
They stopped.
“Thank you for lunch,” she said.
Before they’d left for church that morning, he’d placed a roast, carrots, and potatoes in the oven, set the temperature and the timer.
“I must confess, I didn’t know the timer on the stove worked that way,” she said.
“Stick with me. You feel brave enough, one morning this week I’ll teach you how to make the perfect omelet.”
Angelina turned the bracelets at her wrist.
“Too fast again, huh?” he asked. “Sorry.”
“No, I … would you like to see my paintings?”
His heart sputtered and settled into a heavy rhythm. “I’d love to.”
He followed her up the stairs. She unlocked and opened the door. Sunlight streamed in the rows of windows on both sides of the long room. To his right sat a small kitchenette. To his left, shelves of art supplies, some untouched, some partially used. A thick stack of blank canvases rested against that wall. The remaining perimeter was lined with stacks of completed paintings, easels holding works in progress, and long tables of brushes, paints, rags, and solvents.
A sectional sofa dominated the center of the room. Two open suitcases rested on a large, matching hassock.
“Living this simply really doesn’t bother you?” He walked to the middle of the space.
“No.”
“That might be a good thing since we probably won’t get our money back or be able to keep the house.”
“I told you I didn’t care about the house.”
“I’m beginning to believe that.”
He stepped closer to her work. He saw waterfalls. A beach that looked too crisp, too beautiful to be real. Monuments he recognized as being in Spain and Portugal.
“Are these for your show?”
“Yes.”
“You painted all of these?”
“I had a lot of time on my hands.”
“Your perspective, your talent—I feel as if I could reach out and touch stone or water or sand.”
Joy bloomed on her face. “Thank you. I’m pretty nervous about the show. I’ve kept in touch with galleries back in Birmingham, but I didn’t share about my art with anyone here. Until the radio spots about the exhibition aired, I don’t even think anyone at church knew I painted. Somehow, it seems right you’re the first to see it all.”
“How will you move them?”
“By truck on Thursday. I’ve just begun preparing the packing lists. I’ll have to oversee the process and stay in Mobile in a hotel until the show Saturday.”
“I wish I could be there.”
“Can Julius ask special permission for you to leave the county?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see. I’d give almost anything to be there for you.”
He again surveyed the expansive work she’d done. “You must be proud of all this. Don’t artists name their paintings or groups of paintings? These are amazing. How did you remember the details? How did you know what colors to choose? What techniques to use?”
She laughed. “Are you my first groupie? My first obsessed fan?”
“Yes. I always will be. I want to take you back to all of these places. I want to experience them with you and see them through your eyes.”
His memory pricked, and his gaze sharpened. She’d visited Paris without him, too.
He scanned the stacks but found no French scenes or Paris landmarks. Then, he spied a dark cloth draped over a solitary stack of paintings at the far end of the room.
“Is that Paris?” he asked.
She turned away, hugging her elbows, and nodded.
“May I look at them?”
She nodded again.
“Are you crying?”
She didn’t answer.
He lifted the drape.
The bank of the Seine. The Eiffel Tower. A quaint café. The unique, nearly transparen
t pyramid-shaped entrance to the Louvre—she’d created both a day and a night version, complete with a starry sky and what must have been hundreds of glowing lights.
In the left forefront of each, she stood, always wearing a red cape. Her long dark hair bordering her right shoulder. Her head turned so the viewer saw a swath of her cheek as if looking over her shoulder at the object of her perusal.
As he replaced the drape, a packing list fluttered to the ground beside his feet. Eleven pieces. Series Title: The Lonely Woman.
He rushed to her and turned her in his arms. She wept silently, her body quaking with long-buried hurt.
“I’m so sorry, Angelina.”
Feeling helpless and awkward, he kissed her hair. Then her face, her tears.
Then he simply held on and rocked her while she cried.
Her chest shook against his. Her tears dampened his shirt.
“I’m sorry, my love.” How he wanted to turn away from the pain he’d caused. “Don’t hold the pain inside. Don’t hold it between us. Forgive me. I was reckless and blind and focused on all the wrong things.”
Finally, she drew back and looked up at him. “You’ve never let me cry before. Never held me or comforted me.”
His eyes misted. “It was wrong of me. As long as I live, if I can get to you, you’ll never cry alone again. Come sit down.”
He led her to the couch. She snuggled up to his side.
He stroked her hair. After some time, he realized her breathing had gotten deep and even. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in months, slept beside his wife.
***
She was warm and safe and held.
Angelina breathed in, her husband’s scent confirming he hadn’t only held her while she cried but had continued to hold her while she napped.
She opened her eyes. Daylight was fading to dusk. The temperature dropping from yesterday’s cold front, which was expected to stay a few days.
She burrowed against her husband and nuzzled his neck. How she’d missed him.
He woke with a start and moved to sit up. She tightened her hold on him.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Almost six-thirty. Your alarm hasn’t sounded.”
“I turned it off for church. Guess I forgot to reset it.”
Abide With Me Page 25
