“All I need is You, God. You alone. Please give me strength as I sort through these unsettling memories,” she prayed.
Rest in Me, My child. My grace is sufficient.
Chapter 11
It irked Jason profusely to find himself seated in the middle of a concert hall that night, listening to the city orchestra, when he would have preferred to be at home, snacking on take-out and reading, surfing the Internet, or watching a mindless movie—or sitting at Rachel’s house, taking in the delightful sounds of Meagan’s squeals and Johnny’s babble while he conversed with their mother. But that particular notion quickly fell away when Candace grabbed his hand possessively.
“Aren’t you glad I surprised you with concert tickets?” she whispered during a concerto, leaning into him and batting her pretty lashes. The signature, floral scent of her perfume created sickening waves in his gut.
“Yeah,” he muttered. He pasted a smile on his face and tried to appear completely taken in by the swelling tempos and complex harmonies, yet all they produced in him was an unnervingly restless spirit.
Lord God, I’ve got to tell her, he privately confessed somewhere midway through the third or fourth movement of some classical, seriously boring, unbelievably long opus.
After the concert, they drove back to his office, where Candace had left her car. From there, he followed her to her apartment, all the while praying for direction, hoping that somehow during the course of the evening, a door would open and present him with an opportunity to end their long-standing relationship—without a mountain of harsh words spoken between them or a flood of hurt feelings. He figured he might as well wish for the moon.
“Okay, so you hated the symphony,” Candace said the second they entered her apartment, whirling around and producing a pouty frown. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you squirming in your seat.” She cast off her coat and flung open the closet door, grabbing a hanger and slipping her coat onto it. “Good grief! You yawned so loud that the guy in front of us turned around and gave you a dirty look.” Not offering to hang up his coat, she shut the door and turned to face him. He tossed his coat on the back of the nearest chair.
“I’m sorry, Candace. I truly appreciated the gesture. It’s just that I—”
“What?” She looked at him with those crystalline eyes.
Lord, give me strength. “I’d have preferred to just relax after the long week.”
“For heaven’s sake, going to the symphony is supposed to relax you.”
Yeah, except when you’re wound tighter than a spool of thread.
Her expression turned soft as she reached up and slid her hands behind his neck, running all ten manicured fingernails through his hair. A skittish feeling swelled around his chest, but he hid the emotion. “Oh, I get it,” she whispered, a sly smile finding its way to her plump lips. “You’d have preferred that we snuggle up on the couch, maybe watch a romantic movie, and, who knows, perhaps even wind up doing something more interesting than going to that old symphony.” She stood on tiptoe, closed her eyes, and waited for a kiss.
He sighed, took her by the wrists, and lowered her arms. “Candace, we need to talk.”
In an instant, her countenance melted into a pool of worry, but she quickly recovered. “All right, but how about I make us some coffee first? Shall I turn on some music?” He could tell by the counterfeit buoyancy in her tone that she wanted to postpone any kind of serious discussion.
“No thanks on both counts.” He took her by the hand. “Let’s sit.”
In an almost robotic manner, she followed him to the sofa. They made themselves as comfortable as possible, she curling her legs beneath her slim body and folding her hands in her lap, he sitting forward, knees spread, elbows resting atop them. “Go ahead,” she said with forced lightness in her tone.
He prayed silently for courage. “Remember when we started talking a while back, and then you left early because of that storm? We were discussing Ray’s sermon and that whole topic of surrendering our all to Christ.”
“Well, of course, I remember. You started getting all preachy on me.” She giggled, but he failed to see any humor. She immediately sobered and laid a hand on his arm. “Jason, I know where this is going.”
He raised his head and gave her a penetrating look. “You do?”
“We belong together. You know that, don’t you?” This she said with determined vigor, almost desperation. “What is it you want from me, Jason? Do you want me to learn to cook? I can do better; I know it.”
He could hardly believe it. “This isn’t about food, Candace.”
“Jason, I’ll do anything, really. I love you. I’ll stop nagging you to set a wedding date. I know I’ve pushed on that issue. I can be patient; no worries.” She squeezed his arm. “If it’s about my poor Bible reading habits, I can improve there, too.” He hated that it had come to this. “We can do more things that interest you, like watching football, going to sporting events…I know I talk you into things you’re not wild about. Let’s face it; I’m spoiled. You can blame my dad for that.” Her words tumbled out in rapid succession to the point where he took pity on her. “We could go hiking in the spring, start working out together, go skiing this winter…now, that’s something I do enjoy.”
Instant ire raised the hairs on his arms. Hadn’t he told her he’d given up skiing, at least for the time being? The fact was, he couldn’t stomach the notion of stepping into a pair of skis. Her insensitivity astounded him, even rendered him temporarily speechless, particularly when she didn’t attempt to right it. “I know I’m not terribly religious, Jason,” she hurried to say, “but I’m working on that. And have I ever once complained about going to church with you?”
“Candace.” He couldn’t let this slip by without a comment. “Knowing God personally is not a religion; it’s a relationship. And I wouldn’t want you to seek God on my account. It has to come from an inward desire to know Him better.” He let out a tired sigh and shook his head. “I think you and I…well, we’ve come to an impasse.”
Her mouth fell open in a disbelieving stare. “What are—? Don’t you dare tell me you’re breaking up with me.”
“I’m sorry, Candace; really sorry. We’ve had great times, wonderful times.”
Her eyes, damp in the corners, drilled holes of guilt through his heart. “We’ve had more than that, Jason,” she murmured, her tone frigid.
Her allusion to their physical connection produced a river of sorrow in him. “I know, and I regret that. I should have honored and cherished you more.” He felt himself running out of words but grasped for more when he saw her jaw twitch as the tears started falling. “You are a wonderful person, Candace,” he said hurriedly. “Someday, God will point you to the right man if you—”
Without so much as a second’s warning, she turned and dealt him a hard, stinging slap in the face. “How dare you?” she hissed.
“Wh—?” He rubbed his cheek, stunned by her impulsive act.
Her tears streamed faster, harder. “We slept together, Jason!” she wailed. “You told me you loved me, even talked marriage, and now, suddenly, you end our relationship and suggest I start looking for another man?”
“No, no, I didn’t suggest that—Candace, listen. This isn’t just a rash decision on my part. We’ve been struggling for months to hold things together, and you know it. More and more, I’ve sensed our differences. Please forgive me, but I just can’t go on living this lie. It’s not fair to you.”
She got up from the sofa and glared down at him. “I gave you my everything, and I do mean everything.”
He understood her hurt and wrath. He, too, rose, taking care to step around her to avoid another lashing. “I’m sorry, Candace,” he muttered, walking across the room to pick up his coat. At the door, he paused and turned, saddened by the way she stood there hugging herself, cheeks wet, eyes puffy. “I hope…I hope things go well for you.” She turned her back to him, so he quietly left.
Outside, the arctic air a
ssaulted his senses, but he still walked with a certain kind of optimism. Yes, he regretted hurting Candace and lamented over the sins for which God had forgiven him, but he couldn’t dispute the sense of relief this breakup brought forth.
Nor could he stop thinking about the future and its myriad possibilities. Oh, the possibilities! He seized his keys from his coat pocket, tossed them up in the air, and then hastily snatched them back with a deft move. He was even tempted to whistle, and he might have, if it weren’t for the sting of that slap on his jaw.
***
Rachel hummed the tune of a new chorus she’d learned in church the previous Sunday while she vacuumed up a mountain of cracker crumbs under Johnny’s high chair, keeping one eye on her task and another on Johnny. He occupied himself by hauling out measuring cups, rubber spatulas, and wooden spoons from a low kitchen drawer. Darn! They’d all have to go in the dishwasher—again. At eleven months of age, he’d already taken a few steps on his own and was showing hints of a mischievous streak, getting into everything imaginable and claiming it all as his. Heaven forbid should his four-year-old sister come along and pick up one of his toys or books, or, worse, declare that her own playthings—Barbie dolls, stuffed animals, puzzles, and tea sets—were off-limits to him. Fortunately, her attending preschool three mornings a week now gave Rachel some reprieve from settling squabbles between the two siblings.
Satisfied with the job, she hit the switch on the electric sweeper and started winding up the chord when the phone rang. “Ho!” Johnny instantly squealed, his eyes round as he looked at the phone.
Rachel smiled at his attempt to mimic her greeting and went to check the caller ID. It was her mother-in-law. “Hi, Mom,” she spoke into the receiver.
“Hi, Rachel. I’ve been telling Tom I want that caller ID feature, but you know your father-in-law, Mr. Tightwad himself. He won’t even invest in a cell phone, for goodness’ sake. We live in the dark ages, don’t we? Anyway, we’re doing all right for the most part. I keep thinking about…well, you know, the anniversary. How are you holding up, honey?”
Rachel’s heart tripped at the mention of the dreaded remembrance of John’s passing. It was all she could think about lately, and she knew it had to be paramount on everyone else’s mind, as well. She briefly wondered how Jason was handling it and then pushed down a swell of shame for having ignored his recent phone calls. All of those momentous “firsts” had been hard to grapple with—Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day, John’s birthday, their wedding anniversary, and, now, that one-year mark two days after Thanksgiving.
“Oh, I’m hanging in there—with the help of my friends and family,” Rachel answered. “My girlfriends have been calling a lot, and, as you know since you watched the kids, I went out for lunch with Sarah Michaels last week. She was so thoughtful to ambush me.” They shared a little chuckle before she went on. “Of course, the kids give me strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and that support group at church is helping me cope.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear you’re still going to that,” Donna said.
“We’ve been reading through the Psalms this month, and it’s been a great encouragement. You and Dad should be going to that group. A good number of people there are around your age.” That was one of the reasons Rachel had skipped some sessions at the onset. Not many people lost their spouses at twenty-nine, and, in the beginning, she’d felt out of place rather than comforted. But, thanks to Jason’s subtle urging, she’d resumed attending. She had since come to realize that grief knows no age barriers, and that those who grieve can relate to one another on many levels.
“We have the Lord to help us through our sadness,” Donna said. “Besides, Tom would never bare his soul to a bunch of people. Heavens, I can’t even get him to join a small group at church.”
“You could go without him,” Rachel offered. “I could pick you up sometime.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to go without him.”
No, she wouldn’t, Rachel mused. Donna and Tom did everything together, he depending on her to provide the meals, she relying on him to drive her to the grocery store. Donna had a driver’s license but simply preferred to have her husband transport her everywhere. In fact, Rachel wasn’t sure she’d ever filled the gas tank herself.
Sometimes, she was amazed by how close her parents were to Tom and Donna when she considered how outgoing, independent, and sociable they were compared to her in-laws. Of course, their long-standing friendship, plus the fact that they shared grandchildren, strengthened their bond.
“Changing the subject,” Donna said, “would you mind bringing a salad to Thanksgiving dinner?”
Oh. Rachel had wanted to do away with Thanksgiving this year and had secretly hoped everyone else would feel the same way. But how did one go about giving up a family tradition such as that even for one year? “Sure, I’ll be glad to,” she replied, putting on a chipper tone.
“Your parents are coming, of course, and Jason will be here. Last year, he went to Candace’s parents’, but we have him all to ourselves this year.”
“So, Candace is coming with him?”
“Oh, no. They’ve parted ways. I guess I thought he might have told you.”
A surge of adrenaline blasted through her veins, but she maintained a calm tone. “No, I actually haven’t talked to him in a while.”
“Oh. Well, he mentioned something about trying to call you the other night, so I thought perhaps you’d talked. Anyway, yes, they’ve ended the relationship; rather, he ended it, thankfully. I never have felt right about that girl. Oh, I think she’s a fine person, don’t get me wrong; just not suited for Jay. I didn’t tell him that, of course, since it’s just a hunch on my part, and he really didn’t bring her around enough for us to get that well acquainted.”
“I vaguely remember her from the funeral,” Rachel put in.
“Personally, I think he’s holding out for someone else,” Donna went on. “And I have no doubt the Lord will provide that certain someone at just the right time.” She rambled on a while longer, but Rachel hardly heard a word. She was trying to digest the news of Jason’s breakup with Candace.
Their conversation turned to an entirely different subject—the recent price increases in produce, of all things—and they hung up shortly afterward. Almost immediately, the phone rang again. This time, it was Allie Ferguson, her closest girlfriend since high school. They attended the same church, Harvest Community, and occasionally got together for play dates with their children, who were close in age. Allie was a teacher and often entertained Rachel with stories about her third graders. She was animated, generous, caring, funny, and encouraging, all rolled into one. Not only that, but she faithfully called Rachel at least once or twice a week to check on her. Sometimes, Rachel needed a simple distraction, or a shoulder to cry on—and, every so often, a little pep talk. Allie was good for all of the above.
“Hey, Rachel! How are you?” she asked in her usual, chirpy voice. “You busy right now?”
Rachel walked to the kitchen table and sat down in a chair chosen for its clear view of the living room, where Johnny had moved after abandoning the utensil drawer. She could have stood, of course, but her legs had grown weary from a long morning of chasing him down every hall and around each corner.
“Hey, you! I think this is the first I’ve sat all morning. I tell you, John-John is turning into a little tiger, constantly on the prowl. Lately, he gets into everything.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to bundle him up in exactly ten minutes and go pick up Meaggie from preschool. After that, it’s lunch and naptime. Thank goodness. What are you doing calling me from school?”
“Oh, I’m on break and probably should be grading papers, but I’m not in the mood. I thought I’d call you instead and tell you what one of my students said first thing this morning.”
“Oh, goodie! I love these stories. Tell me, tell me!”
“Well, Richie Cochran walked up to my desk all proud and tickled to tell
me his dad got a new Chevy, and I said, ‘That’s cool, Richie. What kind of Chevy is it?’ and he got all confused in the face and said, ‘Hmm, I’m—I’m not sure. I think it’s a Ford.’”
Rachel burst out laughing. “Oh, my goodness. ‘Out of the mouth of babes….’”
“And then, oh, my word, I did the stupidest thing yesterday.”
“What?”
“You won’t believe it. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, but, hey, I can’t resist making you laugh.”
“Good, I need it.”
“Well, I went to the drive-up window at the bank yesterday after work, filled out my deposit slip, signed a check, and stuffed it in the canister. Then I waited for, like, forever. Three cars pulled up behind me in the meantime, so I shrugged at the guy directly behind me, as if to say, ‘Sorry for the clerk’s incompetence,’ but then this little buzzer rang in my ear and the lady said, ‘Ma’am, are you just about ready out there?’ Rachel, I forgot to push the send button!”
“Oh, no.” Laughter rolled out of her like it hadn’t done in weeks, perhaps months. “You are crazy, girl. You make me laugh.”
“So, I quick pushed the button, waited a minute more, grabbed my stuff from the canister, and sped out of there. But, then, guess what I did,” she screeched into the receiver.
“Oh, I can’t imagine. What else?”
“I got so flustered that I rolled my front wheel up onto a curb. I know the people waiting in line behind me must have thought I was high on something. But the worst is yet to come. I got halfway home and saw that I’d thrown the canister on the seat next to me!”
This had Rachel rolling, heaving, and holding her stomach to catch her breath.
“And I haven’t returned it to the bank yet!” Allie tacked on. “Will you do it for me?”
“No!” Rachel managed between giggles, still holding her stomach. “I mean, can you just imagine that guy behind you? What he was thinking when he finally drove up to the window and discovered you’d taken the canister with you?” Another round of laughter rolled out, and then Allie joined in on the other end.
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