Hearts Communion

by Marianne Evans

  After stocking up on food and drinks, they took their seats and settled in. They sent up a unison roar of support at kick-off when the Lions took possession and performed a decent, 30-yard return. After a while, the game evolved into a back-and-forth rhythm that enabled Jeremy to join his brothers in simply stretching back, downing some junk food, and chatting.

  The Lions and Packers were locked in a three-three tie at the end of the first quarter. Jeremy put out a test comment as he surveyed the cheering crowd that surrounded them. “This is the best. And I love watching the families.”

  “We gotta train ’em young to appreciate the joys and agonies of pro football in Detroit,” Collin answered, tossing back a handful of popcorn and propping his feet against the chair in front of him.

  “Pro?” Marty shot back. “You sure about that?”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “The Lions are hanging tough. Have faith.” He bit into his hotdog and chewed, pondering for a bit. “Have you ever thought about what your life would be like without kids?”

  If surprised by the question, Marty and Collin didn’t show it.

  “Nope. Once you have them, you can’t remember a time when they weren’t a part of your life,” Marty said.

  “They change everything, for sure,” Collin added.

  Jeremy’s intensity increased by small degrees. “Yeah, but”—he stopped watching the game and instead, regarded his brothers—“what if you weren’t able to have them? What if Stephanie couldn’t have conceived? What if Daveny were infertile? Would it have made a difference to you? You know, in your relationship?”

  Marty and Collin exchanged a look, then gave Jeremy their complete attention. Collin leaned in. “It would have been a tough thing to consider, I have to say that, but I also have to say nothing would change the love I feel for Daveny. It’s that powerful a thing.”

  “Same here. I can’t imagine my life without Steph. But it would have taken some serious help to overcome. Some serious prayer time and heart-to-heart.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jeremy muttered, trying to keep track of the action on the field. Players, uniforms, downs all became a blur.

  “What are you saying, JB?” Collin asked. “What’s up? Does this have to do with Monica, somehow?”

  Jeremy speared his brother with a look. Come clean? Protect their privacy as a couple? He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but these were his brothers, his allies. “Monica can’t have kids. She can’t conceive.”

  Despite the noise level of the game, a stillness settled between the threesome. Glances were exchanged as Jeremy’s revelation was absorbed.

  “So, that’s what these questions are all about.” Marty’s eyebrows lifted, and he blew out a sigh. “Gotta say, that’s a tough one, JB. What’s the issue? Why can’t she have kids?”

  “Ever hear of endometriosis?”

  Compassion glimmered through Marty’s eyes. Collin frowned.

  “She’s had it for years. It’s serious enough that she’ll never be able to have kids of her own.” He filled them in with a bit of background.

  When he was through, Marty seemed to check in with Collin. “Listen up, JB,” Marty began. “You want some input from my end? Stick by her. She’s good for you. I’ve never seen you look at a woman with love in your eyes. You’ve never let your heart go. Not completely. Now you have. You’ve got Monica, and you’re happy. I could tell that as soon as I saw the two of you together on Sunday.”

  A bomb blast could have taken place at mid-field and Jeremy wouldn’t have noticed. His focus latched onto Marty and stayed put.

  “All I’ll add is that you can’t let her condition stand in the way,” Collin put in. “Not if she’s the one. If you do, you’ll lose the woman you’re meant to be with.”

  The Lions must have done something great on the field, because the crowd sent up a yell that resounded through the stadium. When the cheering abated, Jeremy admitted, “I don’t know if I can take it, guys. I want a family. I want kids. I want a houseful of noise and love like we grew up in. With Monica I’d have to give up that dream.”

  Collin paused, then looked Jeremy straight in the eyes. “And Monica?”

  Jeremy stared at him blankly.

  Collin sighed, and shook his head. “What about Monica? What about her dreams? You’ve told us just now how important kids are to her, and I see her day after day at Sunny Horizons. I can tell how much she loves them. This isn’t just your dream, JB. It’s hers, too.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Jeremy’s reply came out tinged by heat because Collin’s observation placed him smack-dab between love and heart-felt wishes. “Her needs, my needs, they’re tough to reconcile, all things considered, know what I mean? That’s my problem!”

  “You bet I know what you mean,” Marty said. “And we’re on your side—but maybe what the two of you need to do is see all the alternatives available—all the opportunities you have to pursue a family outside of traditional, natural means.”

  “Adoption,” Jeremy said.

  “Adoption,” Collin and Marty answered.

  Jeremy pursed his lips and looked, unseeing, at the carpet of green field before him. He focused enough to recognize the Lions now led by a field goal. So that had been the cause of ruckus just a bit ago. “I hate to even raise the issue. She’s emotionally and physically exhausted. To be honest, I think she’s done trying to deal with family issues. Instead, she’s pouring her energy into the daycare center and her dance classes at the community center.”

  Collin leaned forward on his knees. His attention centered on the field, but his eyes were cloudy, distant. “I can understand that method of coping. She’s trying to convince herself she’s fulfilled. That everything is OK in her life. I used to practice that kind of evasion about Lance, until Daveny, and God’s plan, entered my life and turned it completely around. Maybe that’s the role you’re meant to play in Monica’s life, bro. A catalyst. A lifeline, as well as a partner.”

  Marty took it from there. “I’ll bottom line it for ya,’ JB. Do you love Monica enough to forego the single life, and family? She’s unable to have kids. If she’s dead set against adoption once you guys talk it over, you’ll need to make that decision.”

  Marty’s observation was on the mark. Jeremy swigged back some soda and crunched some popcorn. “I can’t help how I feel. I want a family. I’ve worked hard to build Edwards Construction into a source of provision, a company I can maybe pass on to my kids someday, or at least see to their security as they grow up. That’s part of what drives me. Part of what I am.”

  Collin gave him a sharp look. “Fair enough. But don’t sacrifice your heart for that. If you do, you’ll end up miserable. Provision, and legacies, are great, but they won’t fill that empty spot you’re talking about.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” Marty chimed in. “You may not be able to have it both ways—Monica and a family, too. Figure out what you want, sort it out and build from there. Time will win her trust. Your support—and it can’t waver—will do the rest.”

  A course to follow. Back to basics.

  Marty started to pay attention to the action on the field. He sent up a happy whoop that drew them all back into the game. “First down, baby!”

  Collin and JB exchanged smirks.

  “Don’t fall into the trap, Marty. Remember, it’s the Lions.” Collin slapped Marty on the shoulder.

  Marty looked at Collin with a determined glint in his eye. “And remember, like JB said, hope springs eternal.”

  ****

  At home that night, Jeremy’s restless mind refused to calm. He changed into sweats, tried to unwind. Instead, he paced.

  In the end, he stood before golden, slowly-dying embers in his fireplace, studying a lineup of photographs along the mantle. He reached out, picking up one of the framed pictures. This particular shot featured the entire Edwards family; it had been taken by a professional photographer last year. Methodically he traced several of the images, thinking h
ow important each person was to him.

  Adoption. Jeremy was of the mind that if Monica were comfortable with that idea, she would have floated it by now. Adoption, an obvious means to the end of having, and raising, a family, had never been mentioned.

  So, the biggest question looming involved his own ability, or inability, to reconcile himself to the possibility of being a family of two—him, and Monica.

  He had witnessed Monica with children both at her daycare center, and at the dance classes. Now, he felt nothing but a yearning that bordered on jealousy. Over time, she would be able to dote on children. Knowing her condition, she had wisely made them fundamental to her life. She could pour loving energy into their care. How was he supposed to make that adjustment, and find fulfillment? This was all so new to him still, and such a surprising—unexpected—twist of heart.

  He paid particular attention to the images of his nieces and nephews. He had always enjoyed spoiling them. If his relationship with Monica continued and grew, his siblings’ children would become even more precious; they might help fill the void in his heart.

  But it won’t be the same.

  One by one, different scenarios came to mind: teaching a little boy how to swing a bat, playing catch, helping a little girl color with crayons, or fly high on a swing. He thought of school days, dances, dating and milestone moments like first days of school, driving a car, graduation. Weddings.

  Jeremy replaced the picture and rubbed his eyes with a tired sigh. Nieces and nephews were wonderful, but they weren’t his. He couldn’t raise them, or watch them grow each day. He couldn’t be the constant they relied upon when they had problems, or when they wanted to share a victory.

  But then, like a circle, his thoughts returned to Monica. He couldn’t sacrifice his love for her. Not even for children.

  I need to adjust, he told himself. I may have to find a way to be fulfilled without children. And if that’s the case, I’ll cope somehow. She means that much.

  Hearts Communion

  13

  What in the world am I doing here?

  Monica sat in a comfortably appointed reception area at Woodland Church. The appealing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee drifted in the air, tempting her to indulge in a cup from the nearby counter-top service. Warm lamplight bathed gently worn wooden end tables that were positioned next to a couch and the easy chair where she sat.

  Jeremy is what you’re doing here, came the annoyingly perceptive reply of her inner voice. And that should tell you something important.

  She toyed with a couple of magazines that were placed on the coffee table in front of her. Parenthood. Oh, sure. Family Circle. Naturally. There were even a few copies of Highlights, for the kids and a pair of big, colorful Bible books. In nervous repetition, she kept glancing at a closed door bearing a gleaming brass nameplate.

  Kenneth Lucerne, Pastor

  She gathered a deep breath. It didn’t help. She twisted a simple sterling ring round and round her right middle finger.

  Girl, you’re such a coward! Seriously! This is just a conversation, not an inquisition!

  For days after she’d taken Ken’s number from Jeremy, she’d studied the small sheet of paper until she knew the sequence by rote, but making the appointment proved to be a challenge. She had picked up the phone—even dialed a couple of times—but promptly hung up before the call connected.

  Why did she need God? It’s not as though He could change any of the circumstances in her life. Plus, not even a gifted, well-meaning member of the clergy could wave a magic wand and make her infertility go away—or grace her with the children she longed for.

  Still, for Jeremy, she had stiffened her resolve and made the jump. After all, what could it hurt?

  A click and a soft whoosh filled the air. The door to Ken’s office came open, and Monica snapped alert, standing up fast. Nerves prickled hot along her arms.

  Ken entered the room with a powerful vibration of warmth and a smile that almost set her at ease. “Monica, hi.”

  “Hi, Ken.” She winced. “Pastor Ken.”

  “Ken works for me just fine. Come on in.” He gave her extended hand a squeeze when she approached, and gestured to the interior of his office. “Have a seat.” He closed the door and crossed to the chair behind his desk. “I’m so glad to see you. Actually, our meeting today aside, I intended to give you a call, unless Kiara already beat me to the punch. We’re eager to check out Sunny Horizons. It sounds like a terrific facility.”

  Monica relaxed. What a nice thing to hear—especially when she considered that Kiara would be a protective first-time mother, and Monica didn’t feel like she had made much of a winning first impression on any of the Edwards clan. “Please stop by any time. You don’t even need an appointment for a walk-through. My policy is strictly open door. I’d love to show you both around.”

  “Then we’ll do it. Thanks. I admire what you do, Monica. I meant it when I said it’s a special gift you share to be so engaged in the lives of children.”

  Straight away his words cut to the very core of what was taking place in her heart, but he didn’t know that, and she needed a few more minutes of assimilation before taking any kind of emotional dive—even with someone as welcoming as Ken Lucerne.

  “Let me return the compliment. I enjoyed my introduction to Woodland this past weekend. The services were wonderful.”

  “I’m happy you were here. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to talk to you afterwards. I feel bad about that.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. You were kind of busy.” Busy? The man had been corralled by parishioners, and he had focused exclusively on each one. Most of them simply wanted to reach out, extend a hand, an encouraging word, or share a story. A few had talked to him somewhat intently, and he had nodded, held a hand, offered himself as a source of support.

  She had enjoyed the ebb and flow of the Sunday gathering, the connection of the people in this faith community. It had felt good to become familiar with the heartbeat of Woodland before attempting this meeting with its pastor.

  “I hope we’ll be welcoming you again soon.” After that, Ken rolled his eyes, and he laughed. “That wasn’t about pressure, by the way. Honest.”

  Monica laughed, and relaxed completely, because he was disarmingly genuine, and sincere. “You don’t even need to say the words. No pressure taken at all.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” Ken leaned forward, and settled his folded hands on top of the desk. “What can I do for you, Monica? What’s on your mind today?”

  The question was gently framed—curious and nothing more. Still, it stopped her like hitting a brick wall at the speed of Mach 3. Comfort and ease sailed away, replaced by an onset of the trembles. Monica looked into the patient stillness of Ken’s eyes and shifted restlessly.

  How to begin? Where?

  While Ken waited, and gave her space to move forward, Monica could think of only one thing to do. Talk. Come clean. The idea of unburdening suddenly felt right; it would be OK.

  Once she reached that decision, the emotional wall burst. “I guess you might say I’m here because I’m angry.” She gave a small, sheepish laugh. “Not a very positive way to begin, I suppose, but that hits the worst of it.”

  “No, Monica. The worst of it isn’t that you’re angry. The worst of it is whatever creates and feeds that anger. Do you want to talk about that? What’s going on?”

  Just like that, Ken earned her admiration. This man wouldn’t be fooled by coy witticisms. She couldn’t help but respect the way he called her out, yet at the same time encouraged her. Ken was easy. Most of all, there was no sense of awkwardness. He seemed not the least bit distressed or dissuaded by her confused attitude.

  Like Elise had been. Silence built, and re-fed her tension.

  “What happened, Monica?” Ken gently urged.

  “I…” She picked up a nearby crystal paperweight. Cube shaped, it was heavy, and prismatic. As she toyed with the piece, its squared ridges and laser cuts captured the desk
light and set off rainbows of color. “I had to tell Jeremy that, if our relationship continues, he’s going to end up making a sacrifice he never would have banked on.”

  “What sacrifice is that?”

  Monica barely registered the question. She heard the words, but her thoughts spun ahead. Giving them voice became paramount. “It’s not something he can control, and it’s not even something I can control. It’s like this…curse…this inadequacy I’ve had shoved into my life, and I hate it, and it makes me angry.” Her voice rose a bit, and her words, at the end, had begun to rush. She slowed herself. And breathed out.

  “What, Monica? What is it?”

  The summons was quiet. Monica continued to still herself, muscle by muscle, breath by breath. She looked up at him. “I worry about the fact that the one thing Jeremy probably wants most is something I can’t give him. A family.”

  Ken blinked hard. He opened his mouth, as though to speak, then closed it. He seemed to gather himself. “You can’t have children.”

  “No. No, I can’t.”

  “Oh, Monica—I’m so sorry. Not just for that, but, I can’t help thinking about what you must have gone through when Kiara and Daveny announced their pregnancies.”

  Monica set aside the paperweight with care, and she sighed. “Please don’t. On that count, I’m the one who’s sorry, Ken. I reacted poorly. I came off seeming rude. I didn’t mean to, but that entire day was like enduring a marathon for which I’d never trained.” As best she could, she provided him with an overview of that Sunday dinner from her point of view, ending with the fact that at its conclusion, she had informed Jeremy of her condition.

  “In so many ways, I lashed out at him afterward, and I know it. The thing is, I didn’t know how to stop. Maybe I was testing him, seeing if he’d duck and run. Half hoping he would, maybe. Terrified of what I’d do if he did.”