For all the times when she couldn’t seem to stop talking, Abby was absolutely speechless. She stood there, soaking in the nearness of him, trying to convince herself she wasn’t dreaming. When she said nothing, he continued. “Go out with me tonight after the game. We can get pizza or just walk around the campus.”
Go out with him? Again the shock nearly knocked Abby to the ground. She felt suddenly shy with him. “Okay. If my parents don’t mind.”
A smile filled his face and he glanced over his shoulder. “I better go get ready. Meet you at my folks’ house after the game, okay?”
“Okay.”
Then without any hesitation, he hugged her the way old friends hug at a class reunion. “It’s good to see you again, Abby Chapman.” He pulled back and smiled at her. “Really.”
In an instant he was gone, taking with him all that remained of her heart.
She laughed out loud now, remembering the innocent, carefree days of seventeen and how smitten she’d been with John Reynolds, how sure that even if the world stopped spinning nothing would ever change the way she felt about the young man who stood before her that Saturday morning.
Abby’s smile faded as she saw their house a hundred yards up the road. It was more fun walking down yesterday’s trails than taking this very real one. Blinking back tears Abby dug her hands deep into her pockets, imagining the cool reception she would receive from John in a few minutes. An image came to her. She and John two years into their marriage, nestled close together on a threadbare sofa watching a suspenseful movie.
“I hate this part!” she whined and buried her head in John’s shoulder. Stifling a grin, he took her hands gently in his and laid them across her face so she couldn’t see.
“There. That better?” She remembered feeling safe and sheltered with John’s arm around her.
“Yeah. Just one more thing.” Her voice was muffled, filtering through the cracks in her fingers.
“For you, love, anything . . .” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
“Tell me when I can open my eyes, okay?”
“Always, Abby. Always.”
What had happened to that man, the one she’d fallen in love with that Saturday morning outside the Wolverine locker room? For the first time in years, against all her better judgment or reasoning abilities, Abby missed what they’d been, ached for the loss of what they’d once shared.
“Always, Abby . . . always, Abby . . . always . . .”
She was only a dozen yards from the front door and she stopped, feet buried in a foot of snow as tears pricked at the inside of her eyelids. I hate this part. Help me through this, God; it’s more than I can bear. I’m terrified of being alone, and the scary parts haven’t even started yet. But this time I have no one to turn to, no shoulder to hide my face in.
And no one to tell me when I can open my eyes.
Ten
THERE WAS NOTHING QUITE LIKE THE RELIEF of silence echoing through a high-school classroom ten minutes after the final bell.
It wasn’t that John Reynolds disliked teaching. In fact he was one of the handful of teachers on campus that truly relished arriving at school each morning, greeting his classes, and alternating between educating and entertaining them. His classroom was his personal domain where he ruled supreme, the place second only to the football field where he felt completely in charge of his destiny.
Still, there was something he cherished about the solitude that came after every student had cleared the campus. Oftentimes it was the first chance all day for John to work on lesson plans for the coming week or ponder his personal life. Especially on days like today when everything about his existence outside the classroom seemed to be caving in around him.
The image of Abby’s face earlier that day flashed in his mind. She’d been on the Internet, no doubt, probably e-mailing the editor she swore she wasn’t involved with. But even with all the distance between Abby and him, John knew guilt when it flashed across his wife’s face. And Abby was definitely guilty of something. He closed his eyes and remembered the exchange as though it had happened only minutes ago.
The tension between them had gotten worse since Nicole’s engagement announcement, and he’d been determined to find a neutral zone, a common ground where they could set up camp and coexist for the next six months. With ten minutes to spare before leaving for work, he’d popped his head into her office.
Immediately she moved her computer mouse across the pad and clicked twice. “You scared me.” Her tone was filled with accusation, and a dark shadow of wrongdoing shrouded her features.
“Sorry.” He struggled for the right words as he entered the boxy room and shut the door behind him. Why was it so hard to talk to her now? Were they really that far gone, unable even to carry on a conversation? He knew the answer as surely as he knew that divorce was the only option they had left, the only way either of them would ever find happiness again. “Can you talk for a minute?”
She had sighed loudly and closed down her America Online application. “What is it?”
Her attitude caused his entire mind-set to change. If she couldn’t be civilized first thing in the morning, what hope was there that she might be willing to reach some sort of combat-free agreement? Never mind, Abby. Who needs your moodiness anyway? “Forget it.” He spat the words and turned to leave, but she cut him short.
“Listen, don’t come in here interrupting my work and think I’m going to turn somersaults about it, okay? I have a life, too, you know.” She remained in her office chair but turned it to face him. John hated the contempt in her eyes, the way they seemed to belittle him and everything he might have wanted to say.
“Why do I bother?” His arms hung at his sides, fists clenched. “I came in here to see if we could maybe work out some kind of deal, some way we might actually survive the months between now and July. But like always your attitude is too big to get around.”
Anger pinched her features tightly together. “My attitude?” She didn’t pause long enough to let him respond. “When you won’t stay away from Charlene even now after I’ve asked you a dozen times to give it a rest. I mean really, John. Six months? Can’t your teenage hormones wait that long?”
John chuckled once and shook his head. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
“Well, maybe you do. I’m finding notes, counting hours. Don’t you think I know when you should be home? I’ve been married to you twenty-one years, John. I’m not completely stupid. I mean, you’re either leaving early to be with her or staying late for it. Even now, when you promised me you’d back off.”
“I absolutely refuse to make this a discussion about Charlene!” He was raising his voice, no longer worried about whether it might catch the kids’ attention from upstairs, where they all were getting ready. “I’ve been keeping up my end of the deal, Abby. But you . . .” He let his voice trail off and stared at her dumbfounded. “You’re so downright hateful I don’t even see the point anymore.”
Don’t do it, My son.
He closed his eyes now, remembering the holy warnings, how they’d echoed through him . . . but they hadn’t mattered. After years of ignoring them he’d become an expert at blocking them out. Besides, they were so infrequent these days he wasn’t even sure anymore that they were holy warnings. I can say what I want . . . she deserves it.
“The point of what?” Abby stared at him as if he were a stranger demanding entrance to her house.
“If I spent more time with Charlene, at least I wouldn’t have to be around here.”
Abby shot him one more daggerlike glare, then spun around and anchored her gaze on the computer screen. “Get out of here, John. I have nothing to say to you.”
Resignation worked its way up from John’s chest. “What else is new? Isn’t that where this all started? Back when you found your own little writer’s life and stopped having anything to say to me?”
She refused to even shift her eyes in his direction. “Oh, here we go. Let’s blame the w
hole thing on my writing. That’s so you, John.” She released a laugh that was completely devoid of humor. “You discouraged me about writing from the get-go, refused to read my work, and left me with the job of raising the kids. Now blame me for the fact that our marriage is in cardiac arrest. That’s really good. Perfect.”
Her sarcasm stung at his nerves like so many fire ants. “Just once why don’t you get off your high horse and look at the bigger picture, Abby? I wanted you to write articles. It’s a great outlet for you. But you let it take on a life of its own, and whether you want to see it or not, after you started writing I fell down the list to about fifth or sixth in importance. Somewhere after the kids and your dad and e-mailing that—” he waved at her computer—“that editor friend of yours.”
She jerked ever so slightly at the mention of her editor, and again John was sure that the darkness in her eyes was guilt. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, John. I mean, did it ever occur to you I might need a little help, that I had a lot on my plate? Would it have killed you to do a load of laundry or fold your own socks?” She tossed her head in mock amazement. “You expected me to fawn over you when I was too tired to spell my own name by the end of the day?”
Her words were dry and biting, and he was suddenly sure he’d had enough.
“I’m leaving. And if I’m late tonight I’m sure you’ll be too busy writing to notice.”
John had replayed the scene a dozen times throughout the day. Now he reached for a paper clip from the organizer on his desk and bent it mindlessly. Had it really come to this? Was it impossible for them to even get along? If so, then how in the world was he supposed to stay away from Charlene? Especially now when Abby’s mandate that he keep his distance only made him think of Charlene more.
He planted his elbows on his desk and hung his head. If Abby had been this way back in their dating days, he’d have dumped her after their first night out. She was arrogant and rude and downright mean. No wonder their physical relationship had been the first thing to go. Clearly she had no good feelings for him whatsoever and hadn’t for years.
Maybe it’s my fault . . . maybe I stopped loving her the way she needed to be loved . . .
Almost as if in response to his musings, Charlene opened the classroom door and peered inside. “Hi. Got a minute?”
She was dressed in navy slacks and a blazer, which she wore unbuttoned over her tight white T-shirt. John forced himself to keep his gaze from falling below her neck. “Sure.” He sat up straighter and all thoughts of Abby vanished from his mind. “What’s up?”
“It’s the kids in fifth period again.” She moved into the room and sat across from him, her forearms resting on his desk so that their hands were only inches apart. “No matter what I do they test me. Don’t you ever get sick of it? The way kids have changed over the years?”
“Sure.” John studied her, fairly sure she hadn’t come to talk about unruly students. Her perfume filled his senses, and suddenly it was nothing short of work to keep from thinking about how good she made him feel.
Flee! What God has joined together let no one separate.
The scripture felt like a bucket of cold water, and John blinked, trying to focus on what she was saying.
“So, what’s the answer? You never struggle with control in your classroom.”
I’m struggling now . . . “They know I’ll make ’em run laps if they act up.” He was teasing her, enjoying the relief she brought from the heaviness in his life.
She pushed at his arm in mock frustration. “Come on, I’m serious. You’re supposed to have all the answers.” With those words something changed in her eyes and her gaze locked onto his. “Are the answers any clearer these days, John?”
Without a doubt she was no longer talking about classroom control. He ached with the desire to walk around the desk and take her in his arms. It wasn’t her fault. She cared for him, clearly. And now the two of them would be forced to wait another six months before anything could be decided.
What God has joined together—
I didn’t divide us, Lord; Abby did. His silent comeback was swift and sure. Besides, it was way too late for Bible verses now. Their decision to divorce was already set.
Charlene remained motionless, waiting for his answer, her head cocked, her face full of questions about his feelings for her. John released a hiss of air through clenched teeth. “I told you, Nicole’s getting married in July. I won’t know anything until she’s back from her honeymoon.”
Her face flooded with defeat. “So you’re really going to wait?”
John hated the way her innocent questions underlined the fact that he was trapped, stopped against his will from doing the one thing he wanted to do—start over again with the fun-hearted, beautiful woman sitting across from him. “I have to. We owe it to the kids.”
Abby would have fought him on the issue, but not Charlene. She settled back in her chair and let the information sink in. “What if . . . what if Abby wants to work it out?”
John chuckled sadly. “The only thing Abby and I are going to try and do is not kill each other.” His eyes met hers again. “Lately we can’t say two sentences without it getting ugly.”
Charlene angled her head in a pretty gesture that always tugged at John’s heart. “I’m sorry. I . . . well, I wish there was something I could do to help.”
Yeah, you could convince me to run away with you and never—
Flee, My son . . . Flee.
I’m not doing anything wrong! The voice in his heart fairly shouted at the whispered warning echoing in his soul. He tried to keep his thoughts on a more honorable level. “It’s just one of those things. We’ll get through it somehow.”
Questions continued to flash in her eyes. “What you asked me . . . you know, about giving you space . . . is that true for the whole time, the whole six months?”
She looked so young and lovely, so lonely and in need of someone to take care of her. John tightened his fingers into fists and forced himself to answer her. “I have no choice.”
For a moment she said nothing, but John was sure she was wrestling with her emotions. Clearly she wanted to be with him, and finally, after nearly a minute, she reached out and wrapped her hands around his. “I’ll stay away.” She paused, allowing her thumb to rub small patterns of empathy across the back of his hand. “I didn’t really have to talk about fifth period today.” She dropped her gaze. “I just missed you.”
John tightened his grip on her hands and lowered his head so he could connect with her gaze once more. “I miss you, too. And once in a while we’re bound to spend time together. But otherwise it has to wait until—”
At that moment his classroom door swung open, and Kade walked in carrying a notebook and a stack of papers. His eyes fell to the desk where John’s and Charlene’s hands were still linked. “Dad? What’s going on?”
Charlene was immediately on her feet. “Your dad was praying for me.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “I was just leaving.”
Praying for her? Charlene’s words hit John in the gut like a prizefighter’s fist. Charlene was not a praying woman; they’d never even discussed his faith. What kind of witness have I been to her, Lord . . . what am I doing here?
Kade stepped aside as Charlene hurried across the room and out the doorway. “See you later,” she said, casting John a pained look before she disappeared down the hall.
“What was that all about?” Kade’s face was still flooded with confusion. “Since when do you and Ms. Denton pray together?”
John’s throat was suddenly thick, and he struggled to find his voice. “She, uh . . . she needed someone to talk to. She’s having some trouble at home.”
“Isn’t she divorced?” Kade moved into the room, set his backpack down, and took the chair Charlene had been sitting in. The boy wasn’t accusing, just curious and more than a little bothered.
“Yes, for a while now.”
Kade shook his head as though the situation didn’t mak
e sense. “Weird.” He reached into his backpack, pulled out his notebook, and set it on the table. “Do you think it’s a good idea to pray with her like that, Dad?” He leveled his gaze at his father. “Might give her the wrong idea.”
John laughed but it sounded tinny and forced even to him. “Son, Ms. Denton and I have been friends for a long time. I don’t think anyone’s going to get the wrong idea.”
Kade studied him a moment longer. “Okay. But what would Mom think if she walked in and saw you two holding hands like that?
It’s kind of . . . I don’t know, just weird, you know?”
God, give me the right words here.
Repent! Remember the height from which you have— “Everything’s fine between me and Ms. Denton,” John interrupted the scripture flashing in his heart. “Besides, your mother knows we’re friends. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“Sure . . . whatever.” Kade shrugged, and John was struck by how much the boy looked like himself twenty years earlier. Almost like history repeating itself. “It just didn’t look good.”
John shifted positions, desperate for Kade to change the subject. “I’m sorry. She needed someone to talk to.” He fingered his son’s notebook. “Did you want something?”
Kade opened the book and took out a bundle of stapled papers. “I had to pick a topic for my senior project.” He turned the paper so it faced his father.
John let his eyes scan the sheet. “Habits of Eagles? That’s your topic?”
A grin spread across Kade’s face. “Yep. You know, like kicking tail all season long, winning the big games, standing up to adversity. Habits of Eagles. Marion Eagles, get it, Dad?”
John laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as hollow to Kade as it felt. The memory of Charlene’s hand in his still burned deep in his belly, stirring feelings he desperately wished he could control. She’s like a drug, God . . . get her out of my system.
Repent! Flee immorality! Remember the height . . .
A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace Page 11
