A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace

by Karen Kingsbury

Abby shook her head and stared at him. He doesn’t comprehend what he’s done wrong . . . “Look at me.”

  John stopped pacing and met her gaze. “What do you want from me, Abby? I didn’t know Kade was going to walk in on us.”

  “I asked you to stay away from her. Six months, John. Six months.”

  He sighed, no longer trying to defend himself. “I’m trying, Abby. I didn’t invite her in; she came on her own. So I told her I needed time, told her to give me space until after Nicole’s wedding. And whether you want to believe it or not, she actually understood. She was just telling me she would do whatever she could to make it easier on me when . . . when Kade walked in.”

  Every word that came from John’s mouth was like an assault. How dare Charlene even need to be told to stay away? Who had led her to believe John would want her help to get through the next six months?

  The answer hung in the room like an executioner’s sword: John, of course.

  He had allowed himself to get that close to Charlene, and now Abby could picture the scene in his classroom as if she and not Kade had been the one to discover them. Charlene would have been almost inconsolable at the thought of a six-month silence between her and John. Of course he’d taken her hands to comfort her. If Kade hadn’t walked in, who knew what else might have happened?

  John was waiting, staring at her, a man at the end of his rope and out of options. “I’m sorry, Abby.”

  Abby hated the way she felt, the way the anger ripped at her heart and made her feel like a monster inside. “John Reynolds . . . I hate you.” Through gritted teeth, she fired each word with as much venom as she could muster. “Get out of here before I walk down those stairs and tell the kids the truth.”

  John’s gaze narrowed as he studied her. “I can’t believe what you’ve become, Abby. What we’ve become . . .” His expression softened. “I don’t know what to . . .” He released a heavy sigh and shrugged. In all her life she’d only seen him look that sad one other time. “I’m sorry, Abby.” Then without saying another word, he left the room.

  As he shut the door and made his way down the stairs, she hurt in places she hadn’t known existed. Come back, John. Don’t you care? Can’t you tell me you’ll forget about her, that she’s not important to you and that you still love me? She balled up her aching, bleeding hand again, and this time punched the pillow. Again and again and again . . . until the rage inside her subsided and gave way to an ocean of sadness.

  Help me, God . . . I don’t know what to do anymore. Make the time go fast, please. I can’t bear to live with him, knowing he’s in love with her.

  Love bears all things; love never ends . . .

  For most of her adult life, Abby had taken one thing for granted: if the Bible said it, she believed it. But as she lay there sobbing in a way that threatened to consume her, the scripture that came to mind made her consider that perhaps God’s Word wasn’t truth at all.

  The verse played again in her mind. Love bears all things . . . love never ends . . . never ends . . . never ends.

  It was a lie; it had to be. The love between John and her could not possibly bear this. While their daughter dreamed and planned about love’s beginning, she and John were plotting and planning love’s end. Either they had never loved at all—and Abby knew without a doubt that they had—or this time Scripture was wrong.

  Because the love they’d once shared, the love that had shone like a lighthouse among the shipwrecks of other marriages, was absolutely, undoubtedly over.

  Love ended, all right.

  She cradled her swollen fingers close to her chest and allowed another wave of tears. The terminal illness their bond was suffering had taken years, and in the end their love had died a predictably painful death. In a matter of months they’d have the proper documentation, the paper grave marker to prove it.

  Abby sat there a long while until she began to drift off, the same words, same feelings playing over and over in her mind.

  I hate you, John Reynolds . . . I hate you . . . I hate you.

  I hate you.

  Twelve

  IT WAS SUPER BOWL SUNDAY, A HOLIDAY THAT ranked up there with Christmas and Easter in the Reynoldses’ house, but Abby and Nicole had agreed to spend the morning and early afternoon looking for wedding dresses. The day out with Jo Harter had produced nothing but endless conversation, so this time Nicole was determined to find at least one gown she liked.

  They were in the dressing room, and Abby was closing the zipper on the fifth dress in an hour when Nicole’s mood seemed to darken. Ever since the comment from Kade, Abby had been extrasensitive to each of the children, aware that they might hear something about their dad and Charlene or pick up on the tensions between their parents. “You okay, honey?” Abby fluffed Nicole’s hair over the back of the dress and stood back. “Oh, Nick, it’s gorgeous.”

  Abby only used her pet name for her daughter once in a while anymore. Nicole tilted her head and looked intently at Abby. “Dad’s been quieter than usual lately. He’s happy about me getting married, right? I mean, he likes Matt, doesn’t he?”

  Every inch of Abby’s body was on instant alert. “Yes, sweetie, of course he likes him.” She paused, searching for the right words. “He’s been busy with school, that’s all.”

  Nicole studied her reflection in the mirror and tugged at the dress a few times until she was satisfied with how it fit. “The sleeves are too plain.”

  Abby took in the details on the sleeves of the dress and thought them simple, but lovely. But this wasn’t the time to argue with Nicole. “You’re right. Let’s see if we can find a few more.”

  Nicole hesitated and stared at Abby once more. “Kade said Dad’s been praying with Ms. Denton.” Nicole’s pained expression gave Abby the sense that her daughter was uncomfortable, as though she were opening a deep, dark topic. “That bugs me, Mom. Doesn’t she know he’s happily married?”

  Alarms sounded in Abby’s heart and soul, but she worked to keep her face from showing it. See what you’ve done, John? Why couldn’t you stay away from her? Abby angled her head and crossed her arms. “Well . . . I can understand how you feel. It bugs me, too.” Pick your words here, Abby. In a few months she’ll know the truth . . . “Your dad’s doing his best; that’s all I know.”

  Nicole thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. There’s just something about Ms. Denton I don’t like. She’s always flirting with Dad, giggling around him. It’s obnoxious.”

  If only John could have seen through Charlene as easily as Nicole had. Abby uttered an appropriate laugh. “Your dad can take care of himself.”

  Nicole smiled and bent her neck as Abby unzipped the dress. “So everything’s okay with you guys?”

  Abby knew her daughter well enough to know that this was the heart of her concern, the fear that every child lives with but rarely voices. And even now, with Nicole grown and about to begin a marriage of her own, the childlike antennae were still up, her concerns still deep and frightful at the thought of her parents in trouble.

  “We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.” She helped Nicole slip out of the dress and waited while her daughter donned her skirt and sweater once more. “This is supposed to be your day, remember? We have a wedding gown to find.”

  By the day’s end Nicole had found the perfect dress, and Abby was grateful that in her excitement her daughter had forgotten all thoughts of her parents and whether they were having trouble or not. After they were home she holed away in her room while Abby cut up vegetables and made snack trays for the game. Like always, they would have a house full—several of John’s coaches and their families, a few players, and the boys’ friends. Abby didn’t care who came over as long as she kept busy. The busier she was, the less she needed to find ways to avoid John.

  Her heart still ached from their blowup the day before, and she wanted more than anything to get through Super Bowl Sunday without a conversation or time alone with him.

  Just before kickoff
Nicole bounded halfway down the stairs and stopped at the landing. “Is Matt here yet?” Her voice was brimming with excitement, and Abby guessed her daughter wanted to show off her wedding gown.

  “Not yet.” She placed a stack of carrot sticks on the platter and ran her fingers under the water.

  “He said he’d be a few minutes late.” Kade’s voice came from the next room. “What’re you hiding on the stairs for?”

  “Ta-da! Mom, come here. I have my dress on. Quick, before Matt comes.”

  Abby dried her hands on a towel and headed for the TV room. Although the gown had looked beautiful on Nicole in the dressing room an hour earlier, now she had taken time to fix her hair and slip on a pair of heels. The sight of her elegantly posed before her father and brothers caused Abby’s breath to catch in her throat. She stopped midstep and let her mouth drop open. Lord, she looks just like I did at her age. Have twenty-two years passed since I modeled my own dress in the weeks before marrying John?

  Before she could speak, John muted the television and stared wide-eyed at their daughter. “Nicki, it’s gorgeous. You look . . . all grown up.” His gaze caught Abby’s, almost as if by mistake, and what she saw there mirrored all the things she was feeling. Did we really create this woman-child? Have the years flown by as quickly for you as they have for me? And how come when our little girl is celebrating love, we’re finding new ways every day to destroy ours?

  Abby looked away, refusing the subtle intimacy of the moment, and turned her attention where it belonged. To Nicole. “Sweetheart, the dress is perfect.”

  And it was, as right as if it’d been handmade for her. The bodice clung to her in fitted white satin, marked by sequins and fine embroidery. Sheer and subtly decorated with additional sequins, the sleeves ended with a wide cuff edged in elegant lace that lay against the backs of her hands. The layered satin skirt fell away gracefully, edged in the same lace as the sleeves and barely skimming the floor in the front. At the back it extended into a breathtaking train and a series of sequins and more embroidery that ascended to the bodice and made Nicole’s waist look beyond tiny.

  “I remember when my waist was that small.” Abby angled her head, gazing at Nicole. Back when I was the only one who could turn John’s head.

  Abby glanced in his direction and found him staring at her again. This time she scowled, doing her best to discourage him from making contact. They had nothing to talk about. Any nostalgic glances were only bound to make things more difficult. When she looked again, he’d directed his attention completely on Nicole.

  “Matt’s one lucky guy.” John stood up and stretched his bad leg, the one that had suffered the injury two decades earlier. It was something he did often—something most people missed—but Abby knew how badly John’s knee still bothered him, how it stiffened up on cold days and caused him to limp first thing in the morning.

  John took Nicole in his arms and hugged her close. “When did you get to be such a beautiful young woman, Nicki?”

  The sight of John and Nicole together was too much for Abby. If you cared about her at all, you wouldn’t be holding hands with another woman in your classroom. She kept her thoughts to herself and turned back to the kitchen. “Matt’ll be here soon, Nick.”

  She heard her daughter gasp lightly and kiss her father on the cheek. “Gotta run. Don’t say a word to Matt.” And with that she was back up the stairs, completely unaware of the tension between her parents.

  John was caught up in the second quarter when the phone rang. Abby had long since locked herself into her office, so he grabbed the cordless receiver and clicked the talk button.

  “Hello?”

  John thought he heard a rustling sound, but otherwise only silence. “Hello?” He was about to hang up when he heard her voice.

  “John, it’s me. Charlene.”

  A dozen emotions tore into John’s heart. Surprise, elation, guilt, anger. He waited a beat so he wouldn’t say anything he’d regret. Especially with a roomful of people seated around him watching the game. “Uh . . . hi.”

  She released a heavy sigh. “I know I shouldn’t be calling you at home . . . I shouldn’t be calling you at all. I just . . . I feel so alone, John. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  There were times when hearing Charlene’s voice sent unspeakable feelings coursing through his body. But here, in plain view of his children on a day that had always been theirs alone, John was torn between wanting to help her and knowing he should hang up on her. “We’re watching the game, of course. And you?”

  “You can’t talk; I knew it. I’m sorry, John . . . I’ll let you go.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  Kade cast him a strange glance as soon as he asked the question, but John wasn’t worried. He was willing to lie about it if he had to. If Charlene was in some sort of trouble, he wanted to be available for her.

  There was silence for a moment, and he heard Charlene crying. “I feel like . . . like I’m in limbo or something, like there’s no hope or promises or future for us.” She paused and John’s heart lurched. Why is she doing this now? When she knows my family is around? When he didn’t speak, she continued. “I love you, John. I wasn’t sure until you asked me to stay away. But now . . . now I’m sure. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else. But I can’t wait around forever . . .”

  Careful, watch your tone. “I understand that.” What did she expect him to say? Already there were bound to be questions, at least from Kade.

  Charlene sighed. “Oh, I don’t know . . . I never should have called in the first place. I’m sorry.”

  Again John was at a loss for words. He could hardly make her flowery promises now, even if the kids weren’t listening to every word. “Right, well, thanks for calling.”

  “John, wait . . . I know I shouldn’t have called you, but do me this one thing. If you think we have a chance . . . after Nicole’s wedding, I mean . . . tell me. Please. Tell me you think the Rams are the best team no matter what happens in the game. That way I’ll know at least that you care, that you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you.”

  John thought about that for a moment.

  Flee immorality, son. What God has joined together—

  The voice that surely belonged to God changed and became Abby’s from the other day. “I hate you, John . . . I hate you.”

  “John? Did you hear me?”

  He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Too many voices for a Sunday of football. How was he supposed to know what he wanted? Abby’s words of hate continued to play in his mind and the image of her spewing rage took up residence in his heart. Why not make promises to Charlene? He cared about her, didn’t he? And things were only going to get worse where Abby was concerned.

  John cleared his throat. Charlene knew him well—knew that his favorite team was the Rams and that no matter who was in the room, the words he was about to say would not sound unusual. Especially as well as St. Louis had done in the play-offs. “I don’t feel this way all the time, but right now I’d have to say the Rams had the best season all year.”

  There, he’d said it. It was true. If he and Charlene could make it through the next six months without spending time together, John had every reason to think he’d have his second chance at life with Charlene Denton.

  “What do you mean you don’t feel that way all the time?”

  John clenched his teeth. Why was she pushing him? He exhaled deliberately and forced a laugh. “You know me; I’ve liked the Rams for a long time.”

  Charlene hesitated for a moment and then released a childlike shout for joy. “John Reynolds, you’ve made me the happiest girl in all of Illinois. I’d wait a lifetime for you now that I know how you feel.”

  “Okay, well I better go. The game’s just heating up.”

  “All right, I’m sorry.” Charlene was contrite, but her happiness still spilled over into her voice. “And what I said about being discreet, I still mean it
. . . I’m here for you whenever you want me.”

  Her last words hit their mark, and John could feel his cheeks getting hot. “Right, well, I’ll call you later.”

  He hung up and immediately Kade caught his gaze. “Who was that?”

  Even though he’d expected the questions, John wasn’t prepared. “A teacher.”

  One of the coaches turned to him. “Who?”

  Way to go, Reynolds. Lie about a teacher in front of a room full of school employees. “Uh . . . Joe Jackson, track coach. Just wanted to see what I thought of the game.”

  Another coach joined the conversation. “Jackson called you? I thought he was in Palm Springs with his wife?”

  Cold fear ran through John’s veins, and he suddenly felt like everyone in the room knew he was lying. “Come to think of it, maybe he was in Palm Springs. He didn’t say.”

  The questions stopped as the room gradually turned back to the game. Only then did John realize how desperate he’d become. He had just promised forever to a woman who was not his wife in front of a dozen family and friends, and now his heart was beating almost out of his chest as payment for his choices. I’m a rotten excuse for a man.

  It was halftime already, and while John made small talk with his friends about the game statistics, Kade began rattling off facts about the eagle.

  “Okay, listen to this.” The men gave him their attention and Kade cleared his throat, glancing at the rough draft of his senior paper. “An eagle almost never eats anything dead.” He raised a single finger. “But if it does, if something happens to make him sick, he flies to the highest rock he can find, spreads himself across it, and lets the sun soak out all the poison.”

  The analogy was so strong John wondered if Kade suspected his father of deceit. Or is this just Your timing, Lord?

  I’m here for you, son. Remember the height from which you have fallen . . .

  John banished the thought and focused on Kade, who was standing now, enjoying the attention as he carried on with more eagle information. John was still thinking about the poisoned eagle, who after getting in trouble at least had the sense to take his pain to the rock and let the sun make him strong again. He had a Rock he could go to, a Son that would certainly make him strong like before.