Through the Tears (Sandy Cove Series Book 2)

by Rosemary Hines

  John’s focus shifted to the window. It was clear he was beginning to think about how to tell Sheila everything. Phil squeezed his shoulder gently, before turning and walking out of the room.

  Michelle flipped through a catalog of baby furniture and was startled when Max pounced on her lap. “You scared me,” she said, ruffling his fur. “I’m looking at pictures of furniture for the nursery. See?”

  Max seemed unimpressed. He nudged her hand with his head. “Okay, okay.” She set aside the catalog and cradled him in her arms, scratching under his chin while he purred contentedly.

  “Maybe we don’t need a baby after all,” Steve said as he came down the stairs. Looks like you’ve already got one.”

  “Yes, little Max is my baby, aren’t you Max? But that doesn’t change anything about little Joey.”

  “Joey?”

  “Yeah. I like that name for a boy.”

  “Oh, so now we’re naming the baby too.” Steve shook his head.

  “That’s right. It’s part of getting ready. So what do you think?”

  “About what?” He sat down on the couch beside her and draped his arm over her shoulder.

  “Names, Steve. What names do you like?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “Well, start thinking. What do you think of Madison for a girl’s name?”

  “It sounds like a last name to me.”

  “But that’s what makes it so cute,” she explained with a smile.

  “Lots of girls have names that used to be last names.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Why are guys so clueless?” Michelle asked herself aloud.

  “Hey. If we were all so ‘clueless’ there wouldn’t be any babies, would there?”

  “Funny, Steve. We aren’t talking about that.”

  “Well, I am.” He pulled her close and used his free hand to begin tickling her.

  Max quickly wiggled free and fled the scene while Michelle was laughing and trying to fight her way out of Steve’s grip. Finally, she collapsed exhausted and admitted defeat.

  “You know I love you, honey,” Steve whispered into her hair.

  “I love you, too,” she said softly in reply.

  He turned her face toward him and studied her for a moment.

  “What?” Michelle asked.

  “Our baby is going to be so beautiful. I hope she looks just like you.”

  Smiling, she reached to touch his cheek. He leaned forward and kissed her gently at first and then more passionately. “Let’s skip dinner tonight,” he whispered in a throaty voice.

  “Okay,” she agreed. They rose and walked upstairs with their arms wrapped around each other.

  John watched Sheila as she fussed over his bed, adjusting the covers and fluffing the pillows. “Do you want to watch some TV tonight?” she asked, reaching for the remote control.

  “No,” John replied as he placed his hand over hers. “We . . . need . . . to . . . talk.”

  Sheila stopped and looked into John’s eyes. She could see the worry written across his face. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Sit . . .down.”

  Pulling the chair up to his bedside and taking his hand in hers, Sheila began again. “Tell me, John. What’s troubling you?”

  He studied her face. How could he explain Marilyn to his faithful, loving wife? He grasped for words. “A mistake.”

  “A mistake? What mistake?”

  “I . . .don’t . . . want. . .to. . .hurt . . .you.”

  “Is this about your accident, John?” She still could not get herself to use the word suicide, even though that had been the intent behind his injury. Accident somehow softened the blow.

  John thought for a moment. “Yes…. No.”

  Sheila could see he was wrestling with his words as well as with whatever he needed to tell her. Trying to help him, she said, “It’s kind of about what happened in Bridgeport, but not totally?”

  He nodded. Then he took a deep breath and sighed, closing his eyes momentarily as if to shut out the truth.

  “We don’t have to talk about this right now.” She could tell he was exhausted.

  John opened his eyes and struggled to sit upright in the bed.

  “Here. Let me help you.” Sheila stood up and readjusted the pillows again, supporting John at the elbow as he scooted up.

  “I . . . am . . . so. . .sorry,” he began again.

  “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. Just give it time.”

  “No.” He paused, took another breath and continued. “About . . . Marilyn.”

  Sheila’s pulse quickened. She hadn’t heard that name in quite a while. Her mind flashed back to the first time she met Marilyn Marlow at a company Christmas party. She had the appearance of a lingerie model — sultry and seductive in her clinging, low-cut black cocktail dress.

  When Sheila had learned about Marilyn being John’s assistant in the Dallas project, it had taken all her reserve and trust to resist protesting jealously. But John had always been a family man, and he’d never given her any reason to question his faithfulness.

  “What are you talking about? What about Marilyn?”

  “She . . . framed . . .me.”

  “How do you know? Did Clark figure this out?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why? What did she have to gain?”

  “Money . . . and . . . re . . .revenge.”

  “Revenge for what?” She could see this was taking a great toll on her husband, but it was clear he needed to get it off his shoulders.

  “For . . . telling . . .her. . . no . . . more.”

  “No more?”

  “No . . . more . . .us.” John let out a deep sigh. His eyes were full of sorrow and regret.

  “Are you telling me you and Marilyn had a relationship?”

  “Yes. Three. . . weeks. Dallas.” A tear rolled down his face.

  Sheila released his hand and stood up. She walked over to the window and looked out over the sprawling lawn and rose garden that flanked the west side of the hospital. Her heart was squeezed in a vise, and her vision was blurring from the tears that threatened to spill. Dear God, help me. What do I say to him?

  Running her fingers under her eyes, she wiped the tears away before turning to face her husband again. Sitting back down, she reached over and gently touched his hand. He turned and looked at her. His eyes were deep pools of expression. She could see compassion, regret, love, and surrender.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she began, grasping for words. “You know I’d love to deck you,” she added with a slight smile, “but it looks like you’re already flat on your back.”

  He squeezed her hand and smiled his crooked smile, one side of his face remaining frozen in paralysis from his injury. “I . . .have. . .always. . .loved. . .you.” His earnest expression touched her heart.

  “I believe you, John. I have always loved you, too.” She could not bring herself to say anymore than that.

  “Call . . . Clark.”

  “Okay, I will.” A few moments later, he was asleep — the exhaustion from the afternoon taking a huge toll on his already depleted reserves. Sheila leaned over, kissed him gently on the forehead as was her usual nighttime routine at the hospital, and then walked quietly out of the room.

  When she arrived home, the phone was ringing. Before she could get to it, the answering machine picked up and she heard Michelle’s voice on the other end.

  “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Just checking in to see how Dad’s doing today. Give me a call when you get this message.”

  Sheila sunk into the soft cushion of the sofa and sighed. It meant so much to her that the kids checked in daily. But she didn’t have the energy to call her daughter back tonight. Besides, she needed time to think — to process what she had learned tonight and decide how to put it all behind her. The kids must never know about John’s affair. It would crush them, and maybe turn their hearts away from a father who so desperately nee
ded their love now more than ever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Steve woke up and reached across the bed to find his wife’s side empty. Hearing muffled sniffling from the next room, he threw off the covers, raked his hand through his hair, and walked into the bathroom. Michelle was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in her robe, tears streaming down her face.

  “What’s wrong, babe? Did you have another nightmare?” he asked.

  “No. I’m okay,” she replied, turning away. Her voice was thick with emotion as she rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

  Steve sat down beside her. He spotted the pregnancy test on the counter by the sink. Putting his arm around her, he gently pulled her head down onto his shoulder. Not quite sure what to say, he hesitated to speak. Instead, he took her hand off her lap and laced his fingers through hers. “It’ll happen, Michelle. We just have to give it time. This is only the second month.”

  Her shoulders shuddered as a stray sob escaped. “The doctor said it shouldn’t take more than three months,” she began.

  “So we still have another month left,” he said, rubbing her back. “We can wait four more weeks, can’t we?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she replied softly. “Come back to bed. It’s lonely in there without you.”

  She turned and looked at him. “I was thinking of going downstairs and making a pot of tea. Maybe I’ll read the Bible for a while.”

  “Want company?”

  “No. I’ll be okay.”

  He stood up with her and gave her a warm hug. “Be patient, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll try.” Giving him a peck on the cheek, she headed for the kitchen.

  As Steve climbed back in bed, he saw Max curled up in the covers. “Move over, buddy. This is my side of the bed,” he said as he scooted the cat out of the way. Pulling the quilt up over his shoulders, he heard the sound of the teakettle beginning to whistle as he drifted off to sleep.

  Michelle poured herself some tea, added a little honey, and took it into the family room. She wrapped herself in the afghan and sat at the end of the couch, pulling her feet up underneath her and cradling the warm cup in her hands.

  God, You know how much this baby means to me. You promised to give us the desires of our hearts. Please give us this one thing we so desire.

  She could feel God’s presence. It was almost as if He were sitting on the couch right beside her that very moment. She closed her eyes and listened with her heart, but all she could hear was a silent voice telling her, Wait. Wait for My timing.

  She shook off her impression. Not wanting to hear anymore about waiting, she went to the kitchen, wearing the afghan like a cape. Then she reread the scripture she had posted on the refrigerator, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

  Michelle glanced over at the Noah’s ark lamp, sitting on the counter, and smiled as she imagined her baby’s nursery all decorated.

  Like Steve said, I can wait one more month. With that thought settled, she went upstairs and crawled back into bed, allowing Max to snuggle under the covers with her.

  In twenty-five more minutes, the alarm clock would ring for Steve to get up. She wanted to get up with him and make a good breakfast before he took off for work. Pretty soon she’d have a baby to care for and wouldn’t have as much time or energy to give her husband.

  As she was starting breakfast, she remembered her mother hadn’t returned her call from the night before. Yesterday was the first day she hadn’t talked to her since her dad had been transferred to rehab. Michelle’s mind started racing with possible scenarios.

  What if her dad had suddenly relapsed? What if they were back in the hospital? Surely her mom would call her, wouldn’t she?

  It was early, and she hated to wake her mom if there was nothing wrong. On the other hand, her fears were escalating. They’d come so close to losing her dad. His safety and well-being were on Michelle’s mind throughout each day.

  She picked up the phone and dialed home. On the third ring, she heard her mother’s somewhat garbled voice. “Hello?”

  “Mom?”

  “Mimi, is that you? Is something wrong?”

  “That’s what I was wondering. You didn’t call me back last night. Is Dad okay?”

  Her mom cleared her throat and replied, “Everything’s, okay, honey. It was late when I got back. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Don’t ever worry about that, Mom. I need to talk to you everyday. I need to know you guys are alright.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Please try not to worry. I promise I’ll call you if your dad has a setback, no matter what the time.”

  “Okay. Sorry if I woke you up.”

  “It’s no problem. I need to get going anyway. And thanks for calling and checking. I really look forward to your calls everyday. It was just a late night last night, but everything’s fine.”

  “Okay. Love you, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “I love you too, Mimi.”

  Turning back to the breakfast preparations, Michelle heard Steve come barreling down the stairs. Better hurry, or he’ll leave hungry, she thought as she grabbed some bread and threw it in the toaster.

  Thanksgiving arrived two days later with a torrential downpour that threatened to close the highway. Michelle wondered if there would be a problem with Kristin and Mark flying into Portland, but Steve reassured her that only small private planes would be restricted from landing in the low visibility caused by the storm.

  Michelle spent a half hour between preparations calling home and talking to her mom and grandparents. They had brought her dad home for the day, and she was able to speak with him briefly.

  “Hi....honey,” his voice struggled to communicate.

  “Hi, Daddy. How are you?”

  There was a long pause and then, “Okay. They....take....care....of ....me.”

  Michelle’s heart ached. She wanted to be there to give him a hug and tell him how much he meant to her. He seemed so vulnerable. Would he ever recover the strength he had once possessed? Or would his life be a daily struggle just to say and do the simplest things?

  “Daddy, you know how much I love you, right?” she asked, forcing her voice to be steady and calm.

  “Love...you...too...Mi –chelle.”

  “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving. I miss you so much.”

  “You...too.”

  The next thing she knew, her mother’s voice was on the other line. “Were you done talking, Mimi? He just handed me the phone.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Give him a big hug for me, Mom. Wish I could be there.”

  “Christmas is around the corner, sweetheart. We’ll all be together then,” her mother said reassuringly.

  Ben and Kelly arrived in the late afternoon, bringing Kelly’s special scalloped potato casserole. The fragrance of the turkey cooking in the oven and the warm glow of the fire in the fireplace gave a cozy and festive air to Steve and Michelle’s house. “Smells great,” Ben commented as he helped Kelly out of her raincoat.

  Michelle noticed a slight bulge at Kelly’s waistline. “Are you starting to show already?” she asked with amazement.

  Kelly smiled. “I’m thirteen weeks now. First trimester is about over, but it seems like it will be forever until June 6th. I feel really sick if I don’t keep something in my stomach. Most of this is probably just fat,” she replied as she patted her tummy.

  “What’s your excuse?” Steve asked as he glanced at Ben’s stomach, which also looked larger than usual.

  “Sympathy pains,” he explained. “Whenever I see her eating, I have to join in. You know, to keep her company.”

  “Right.”

  “Okay. Enough talk about stomachs,” Michelle piped up. “Why don’t you guys just make yourselves comfortable out here, and Kelly and I will go finish the feast in the kitchen,” she said, smiling at Kelly.

  “Sounds good to me,” Ben replied. “Let us know if you need any help.”

  “Yeah. Let Ben
know if you need any help,” Steve said as he reached for the remote control and flipped on the football game.

  “You guys listen for Kristin and Mark. They should be here anytime.”

  “Will do,” Steve replied without taking his eyes off the game.

  Michelle and Kelly retreated to the kitchen. As they cooked, they talked about their plans. Kelly was waiting to decorate her nursery until she made it halfway into her second trimester.

  “I should probably wait, too, especially since I’m not even pregnant yet,” Michelle replied. “But I keep finding all this cute stuff for my Noah’s ark theme.” She showed Kelly the lamp and some pictures from the baby store catalog.

  Kelly didn’t want to put a wet blanket on Michelle’s plans, but she felt concerned about how determined Michelle was to make this all happen. “Michelle,” she began carefully, “have you been praying about all this?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, I’m just wondering if you are certain this is God’s timing for you and Steve to start a family.”

  “I guess. It feels right. Wouldn’t God take away this desire if it wasn’t His timing?”

  “Maybe. I just know I’ve gotten ahead of God a few times in my own life, and it’s always ended up adding lots of extra grief.”

  “So how do you know when it’s His timing?”

  “Just pray and then wait to see what happens. But don’t stress over it. By the way, I love the lamp,” she added.

  “Thanks,” Michelle replied, her frown relaxing into a smile.

  Suddenly the lights flickered and went out, leaving them standing in the dark.

  “Hold on a sec,” Steve called as he eased himself into the kitchen, sliding his feet carefully along the smooth flooring to avoid tripping over Max or any other obstacles. It was totally dark everywhere, indicating it was not just a power outage in this one residence but also affected the surrounding area, including the street lamps.

  “What happened?” the girls asked in unison.

  “A transformer must have gotten knocked out by the storm,” he answered, retrieving a flashlight from the utility drawer. “Why don’t you two come out to the family room with us.”