“Devon, think about what you’re saying. We’ve been apart for a long while, and you’re only remembering the good things about our life together.”
“No, I remember it all, Sandra. I acted out of anger and selfishness. I behaved like a single man instead of a husband. I thought only about myself instead of about our family. And I’m ashamed of myself. I can’t change what happened. All I can do is ask your forgiveness. Will you forgive me, Sandra?”
She turned away. “You have no right to ask me that. You hurt me, Devon, me and the kids.”
He bit back a slew of excuses that came to his mind, reasons he did the things he did, shifting the blame to her behavior. He said none of it. God gently reminded him this wasn’t about him. It was about restoring his marriage. When Jesus was persecuted on the cross, he didn’t fire back. Devon couldn’t either if he truly wanted to reconcile with Sandra. He would have to be the bad guy, the guy who had walked out. He would accept that blame without argument.
He touched her shoulders and felt her shiver under his touch. That was a good sign. “Isn’t there anything in you that still wants what we had? I felt it that night at the graduation. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
She stepped back away from his touch and shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not ready for this. I just got used to the notion that perhaps we can be friends.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Sandra. I want to be your husband.”
“Why do you have to do this? Why do you always have to ruin a good moment?”
“I ruined the moment by telling you I want you back? Most women would melt at that kind of romantic gesture.”
She jutted her chin. “I’m not most women, Devon.”
“No, you’re not most women. You’re my wife. The woman who is supposed to stand beside me through thick and thin.”
“Well it’s hard to stand beside someone who is walking out the door.”
Anger bit at him, deeply rooted in past hurts and past transgressions. This time he didn’t bite them back. “Why shouldn’t I have left? What did I have to come home to besides a cold, controlling woman who wanted to plan my every mood and emotion?”
“So now it’s my fault you walked out on your family? I did everything I could to make a nice home for our kids.”
“If you had lavished as much love and attention on me as you did on our kids, we would still be together.”
She marched toward the car. “I knew this was a mistake. Take me back to the house.”
“Gladly.”
She didn’t even give him a chance to open the door for her this time. Beating him to the car, she got in and slammed the door.
He slid into the driver’s seat, his blood still boiling with anger. He started the car and headed back toward Brandon Hall with gusto.
“Slow down before you kill us,” Sandra quipped as he darted between traffic.
He knew she was right. He shouldn’t be letting his emotions control his driving, but the fact that she’d pointed it out… “So now you’re trying to control how I drive?”
“Someone should.”
He sped up just to irritate her, taking the curve that put them back on the Natchez Trace at a speed that would have thrown her into his lap had she not been buckled up.
“You’re a maniac,” she shouted.
He slammed on the accelerator, speeding up on the open stretch of road.
She gripped the dashboard. “You’re going to get us both killed.”
He glanced at her, enjoying the panic in her voice and on her face. At least she felt something for him.
Suddenly her eyes widened in fear. “Deer!” she screamed.
He jerked his head back toward the road in time to see a herd of deer darting across the asphalt. He hit the brakes and jerked the wheel, causing the car to skid sideways. It narrowly missed the deer, who bounded away. The car nearly went off the road.
His focus went immediately to Sandra, making certain she was unhurt, but when he looked at her, the expression of contempt on her face threw him right back into retreat.
Her words were quick and full of resentment. “Take me back now.”
Devon jammed the SUV into gear as he continued toward Brandon Hall, waiting for the inevitable I-told-you-so from Sandra.
She was out of the car the moment he pulled up to the house. “I cannot believe you. I should have known better than to think you would ever change.”
He jumped out, too, and followed her. “Why should I change? You’re the one with all the lists and the plans. You think you can control everything and everyone? Well, you can’t control feelings.”
He was only vaguely aware that the front door had opened and the family was spilling out onto the porch.
“You certainly can’t control yours. One minute you still love me and the next you’re trying to drive us into a ravine.”
“I should have. At least that would put us both out of our misery.”
“Yes, and it would be a lot cheaper than a divorce, wouldn’t it?” She reached into her purse then threw a stack of papers at his chest. “Consider yourself served.”
His mother marched between them. “Stop this, both of you! Think about the children.”
He looked at Cara and Jacob standing on the porch. Jacob’s face was sullen, and Cara’s face was planted in Kim’s shoulder as tears shook her.
His anger began to dissipate.
He’d done it again. He’d hurt his family.
God, why can’t I get this right?
Chapter 8
Don’t worry, Lynn. It won’t happen again. I’ll be leaving in the morning. I see now it was a mistake to come.” Sandra marched up the steps, stopping only momentarily to shoot Devon an angry look. She looked at Kim. “I’m sorry if we ruined your wedding.”
His mother turned to him once Sandra disappeared into the house. “What happened between you two?”
He pulled his hands through his hair and let out a resigned sigh. How had things spiraled so out of control between them? One moment he was telling her he wanted her back, and the next she was accusing him of trying to kill them both with his driving.
He brushed off his mother’s question. “It’s complicated.”
“Well then, uncomplicate it.”
“She thinks I’m jealous of my own children.”
“Are you?”
“What? No, of course not. I love Jacob and Cara.”
“That wasn’t the question. Are you jealous of the kids’ relationship with Sandra?”
He struggled for an answer. Why didn’t “no” slip easily from his lips?
“Sandra was right about one thing. You do need to learn to control your emotions.” She walked back onto the porch and went inside. Kim and Cara followed behind her. Jacob stayed behind, standing on the porch. His face was full of disappointment.
Shame filled Devon at his son’s disdainful stare. “Jacob—”
“You did it again, Dad. You blew it.” He walked back into the house, shutting the front door behind him.
Devon couldn’t face the family inside yet, so he walked down by the pond. The evening air was beginning to grow cold, but not nearly as cold as his family would be. He picked up a rock and tossed it over the water. Overhead the sky was clear and cloudless. Stars began to appear in the night sky.
He sat on the ground and stared up. The big question loomed. Was he jealous of his own children?
Ashamedly, he was.
Jealous of the love and attention and affection Sandra showered on them. He didn’t begrudge them that, but he wanted some of it for himself, too.
He closed his eyes and aimed his prayers toward heaven. “God, I’ve messed up again. I thought I could do this. I thought I could shoulder the blame and the rejection, but I can’t. I need Your help. I need You to fix this mess I’ve made.”
Sandra stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d tried to hide the tears from Cara, but even looking at herself now she knew she hadn’t
been successful. Devon’s words cut like a knife into her heart. He’d tried to blame her for the failure of their marriage. He was the one who’d given up. He was the one who’d walked away.
For one fleeting moment, she’d had the hope that he was serious about reconciling. But his behavior, his out-of-control emotions, had ruined that. She should have known better than to pin such hope on him. He was a man controlled by his feelings. He wanted to be with her only because they were in a romantic setting and she was close by. But if he couldn’t even stick to the plan of being friends for one day, what hope would their marriage ever have? They would be right back where they were within a matter of months, at one another’s throats playing the blame game.
She switched off the bathroom light but stood in the doorway watching her daughter sleep. She should never have allowed Cara to convince her to stay. It had been a mistake. Now they had ruined Kim’s wedding getaway with their bickering.
Tears pushed at her eyes. The truth was it was more than the fighting that upset her. It was the fact that the one fleeting moment of hope she’d had came crashing to the ground. Why had she allowed herself even that brief glimpse into what their futures could hold? Why had she allowed Devon the control to raise her expectations and then shatter them to pieces?
She tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come, so she finally pushed back the covers and got up. Perhaps she could sneak into the kitchen for a glass of warm milk or take a walk to release some of the energy that would not allow her brain to shut off.
She put on her slippers then grabbed her coat, deciding a brisk walk might be just what she needed. She was quiet as she moved about the room then opened the closed the door, careful not to awaken her daughter.
She stopped as she approached the stairs and saw Devon’s familiar frame sitting on the steps.
He turned when he heard her.
“What are you doing out here? It’s late.”
“Actually, it’s early. It’s 4 a.m.”
She was surprised at the time. Had she spent all night crying over him?
“Actually, I was waiting for you. Will you take a walk with me? There’s something I want you to see.” He pulled a flashlight from his coat pocket.
She tried to keep the tremor from her near emotional break from showing. “What is it?”
“Please, Sandra, come with me.”
She slipped into her coat and followed him outside. As he headed toward the edge of the drive, he flipped on his light.
Sandra stopped when he moved into the woods. “What are you doing?”
“It’s safe. I promise.” He held out his hand for her to take.
Reluctantly, she took it and followed him through the woods. Her feet crunched leaves and fallen sticks, and every now and then something else crunched loudly beneath her feet.
Devon moved the flashlight to the ground. “It’s pecans. Rachel says they’re all over the place.” He continued walking, and Sandra followed.
They came to a clearing, but it was only the absence of the crunch beneath her feet that alerted her. The night was so dark she could see only what was illuminated in the beam of light in Devon’s hand. She held tightly to his arm as he walked.
“Are you certain you know where we’re going?”
“Absolutely.” He shined the light on a group of trees then headed for them. “We’re here.”
Through the trees, Sandra saw an old iron gate and tombstones inside. “Another cemetery, Devon?”
“This one is special. Rachel told me about it. It’s the Brandon’s family plot, the original Brandons who built the house. Only six of their thirteen kids survived past the age of eighteen. The rest were buried here.” He scanned the light over the large oaks surrounding them. “Mrs. Brandon planted thirteen trees, one for each of her children. They surround this place, protecting her children.”
He scanned the light over small markers. Sandra noticed some had only initials. Some were bigger than others. She knelt beside one that indicated a one-year-old was buried there. “This is so sad. Some of these were just babies.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what I would do if something ever happened to Jacob or Cara.” She leaned back into the comfort of his arm that surrounded her, and his breath tickled her ear as he spoke.
“When Rachel told me this story, it reminded me of us.”
“Why?”
“They suffered so much loss in their lives, yet they didn’t give up. They kept on going”—he stared down into her eyes— “together. Sandra, you and I have no idea what it means to suffer like that, yet we gave up. After the war, Mr. Brandon fled with his slaves because he was going to have to pay them freedman wages. Yet when he heard about the death of one of his children, he immediately returned, unconcerned about what it would cost him, to be with his wife in her grief. I want to be like that, Sandra. I want to be that kind of husband. One who will drop everything when you need me. I promise you, that’s the kind of man I’ll forever strive to be. And I have a surprise. No more traveling. I’m off the road for good. They offered me a new position, and I’m going to take it. I want to be home with you, with my family, as much as possible from now on.
“You were right about me. I am jealous of the kids. I see the way you fuss over them. It’s been a long time since you fussed over me that way.”
So they were back to blaming her.
“I know I should have said something. I should have opened my mouth and told you straight out how I felt, but there was a time when I didn’t have to do that. When you fussed over just me, when you made me feel special. I miss that. I miss you. I don’t want you to go, Sandra.”
“I think it would be the best thing.”
“No, it won’t. It won’t be the best for anyone.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him. “Please stay. Give me one more chance. Give me tomorrow. Take the plunge with me, Sandra. If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for the kids.”
She cringed. It was unfair of him to use the kids against her. She would never intentionally do anything to hurt the kids.
He pulled her hand to his lips then kissed the other one, too. “Think about it,” he whispered.
As they followed the path back through the woods, Sandra’s mind was awhirl with what Devon had just said. He’d seemed so sincere, but did she dare get her hopes up again?
Her foot slipped on a pecan, and she lost her balance. Devon caught her before her feet went completely out from under her. His strong arms surrounded her now, just as they had months ago at the graduation.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice lingering in the darkness. The dim light from the house and the beam from the flashlight he’d dropped wasn’t enough for her to see his face, but she felt his hot breath on her skin and the desire to kiss her. As his lips touched hers, a shiver rushed through her, not caused by the chill in the air but by the warmth and familiarity of the man beside her.
“Oh, Sandra,” he whispered. “Please say you’ll give me another chance. I want to prove I can get it right this time.”
She pushed away from him and rushed ahead toward the light of the house. She didn’t slow down even when she heard the familiar crunch of the gravel driveway beneath her feet. She rushed toward the back of the house, her mind awhirl with Devon and all he’d had to say.
Did she owe it to the kids to give her marriage another try? Did she owe it to Devon? To herself ?
And what was the worst that would happen if she took the chance?
She stopped running when she heard a voice. As she got closer, she recognized Jacob’s voice then spotted him sitting on the brick steps, his cell phone to his ear.
“I love you, too,” he said into the phone. “Good night, Maggie.”
He hung up, slid his phone into his pocket, then turned back toward the house. “Mom, what are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I was just talking to Maggie.”
“It’s col
d out.”
“I wanted some privacy.” He took a deep breath. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes.”
“I know you think I’m too young to fall in love, Mom, but I’m not. I love Maggie, and I want to marry her.”
She closed her eyes and sat down, uncertain how to handle this situation.
“That’s why I’m so worried about you, Mom.”
“Jacob, you’re worried about me?”
“Sure. With me and Cara away at college, you must be lonely.”
“I’m the parent. I’m supposed to worry about you. Not the other way around.”
“I can’t help it, Mom. I love you. I don’t want you to be alone. Me and Cara both want you to be happy.”
“Cara and I,” she corrected.
“Both of us. We just don’t want you to be lonely.” Jacob kissed her cheek. “Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, sweetheart.”
She watched Jacob walk back into the house. His words stayed with her. He and Cara were moving on with their lives, just as children should. Devon’s accusations flowed back to her mind. Was he right? Had she given so much of herself to the kids that she’d had nothing left for him? For the first time, she realized she had. She’d given them everything she’d had, leaving nothing for her husband—or for God.
She went to church every week, but it had become more about habit and duty than about praising the Lord. And since Devon left, she’d thrown herself even more into serving at the church instead of taking time out to listen and learn. She knew why now. If she kept busy, she could suppress the anger and heartache of allowing her marriage to falter.
And she had allowed it.
Loving the children had been easy. They’d relied on her. Now she realized Devon had needed her, too. He’d needed her support, her encouragement, and mostly, her attention. But did she even know how to be a wife again? And did he know how to be a husband?
Sandra sat on the steps and watched the water flow up through the fountain then rain back down. A verse from a Sunday school lesson in Ezekiel came to mind. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. One of her friends had admitted to using the promise of this verse to change her attitude toward her husband and learn to be more loving. Her words and this verse had stuck with Sandra, though she hadn’t known before exactly why.
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