To Know You (9781401688684)

by Ethridge, Shannon (CON)

  “I thought she was clear on that. Suddenly I was this terrible disappointment to her. She starting nipping at me. E-mailing me job postings. Telling me about church opportunities where we could have a parsonage and a car allowance. Play missionary on the weekends, she said.

  “And I started nipping back. Where’s your vision for God’s hand in our lives? I would ask. And that would wound her because she didn’t see what I did. It was like night”—Andy grabbed the flashlight and pressed it against his chest so the light formed an eerie circlet over his heart—“without any safety light or flashlight or even one flickering candle.

  “The louder she got, the more silent I was.”

  “Women hate that,” Julia said.

  “I know that. Now. It was intolerable for both of us, so she kicked me out. I went to my parents and they sent me back to her. She said I was wasting her time. She couldn’t in good conscience be the one to keep Saint Andrew—that hurt the worst—from where God was calling him. I slept on a mat in the kitchen until I found this opportunity.”

  “Are you communicating at all?”

  “It’s a lost cause. Sometimes we make stupid mistakes and God gives us enough grace to manage to live with them. Other times I guess God is merciful enough to let us move on.”

  “So what happens next for you?”

  Andy reached out, took her hands in his. So big, so warm in the summer night. “I want to redeem my mistake by being with someone who shares my vision. I want to know real love. Do you understand, Julia?”

  “Yes,” she said and let her lips brush his.

  23 Years Earlier, August

  Stolen kisses. That’s what Julia thought their midnight forays were.

  Not stolen from God because they were doing God’s work. These moments where their lips pressed together and she felt his heart beat against hers and knew how close they were to being one—these moments felt like a little sliver of heaven.

  How many times did he tell her that she understood him like Katie could not? How many times did he tell her that she was the angel of his healing, the inspiration for him to move forward in ministry and deeper into the Father’s heart?

  How many times had he kissed her and made her feel completely loved without making love? Tom had mixed sex into their equation so quickly that Julia had never had the opportunity to sort out emotions and decisions. This summer was different than the last two.

  This summer was right.

  In the middle of August, Reverend Paul found a sponsor to send all five basketball teams to New York City for a Friday night street tournament. This required emptying the house of staff to act as chaperones and gatekeepers. Julia and Andy volunteered to stay behind for any emergency needs in the neighborhood.

  Reverend Paul called an hour later to say they left the soccer nets set up and could you bring them down and also spray for yellow jackets in the fencing on the east side of the court?

  “Which one of us is doing yellow-jacket duty?” Andy said.

  Julia laughed. “I did a ton of it during our renovation work. I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll hold the ladder.”

  “You’re quite the holder, Andrew Hamlin. Hold the flashlight. Hold the ladder.”

  The stars were out by the time they finished killing hornets, cleaning up soccer equipment, fishing Nerf balls and Frisbees out of the trees. A warm breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves and cooling their sweat-soaked clothes. Sheltered from the street by the granite mansion and the sweeping front lawn, the back play areas were quiet.

  Andy had turned off the spotlights on the basketball court so Julia could spray the various wasps nests without rousing them from slumber. Creatures with nothing but instinct, they would not move from their poison-soaked environment and would be dead by sun-up. The only light came from a distant bulb on the back porch.

  “Another good deed in the service of IronWorks,” Andy said.

  Julia used the hose to wash her hands, gave him a quick spray. “Yeah, I do good work.”

  “Hey, look what I’ve got.” He dug into his back pocket, handed her two pieces of chalk.

  “Oh, so you’re the artist now.”

  “You’ve been itching to do something on the court. Now’s your chance.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even have an idea.”

  Andy lay down on the court, a gray shape in the darkness. “Draw me,” he said, spreading his arms as if he were about to make a snow angel.

  “This is crazy,” she said.

  “Crazy is often the place to start.”

  She bent down and drew an outline of his arm. Amazed at how he had such a strong body—a football player’s body—and such a sweet temperament.

  She traced carefully, moving up his forearm, using blue chalk that fit the color of his eyes. She shifted, groaned. “The pavement is biting into my knees. Maybe I should go change into long pants.”

  “No. Wait. Just . . . sit on me,” Andy said. “I can take it.”

  Julia knew she should go inside, grab a towel or maybe find an old stack of newspapers to kneel on. But she swung her leg across his body and settled herself on his abdomen. She leaned forward so she could trace his neck, then the side of his face.

  Leaning all the way so she could reach the top of his head.

  Blanketed by stars and night breezes, she stayed there, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her, her self-control evaporating like chalk dust in the rain.

  23 Years Earlier, August

  All those stolen nights, when IronWorks lay in darkness, perhaps Jesus slept too.

  Three weeks later Julia took a pregnancy test.

  She slipped to her knees in the bathroom, test strip still in hand, and bowed her head to the cold tile, praying, I know it’s not perfect but please bless this child, bless us. Please, God, hear my prayer.

  She hadn’t meant for this to happen, of course. When Andy asked about protection on that first night, she said she had just finished her period and all would be fine. That’s what she believed, or at least, decided to believe.

  After that, he carried a condom in his pocket, blushing because he had to hide them from the guys he shared the bunkroom with. Too late, Julia now knew.

  Each time they had been together, Andy said he wanted this forever. When Julia prodded for a definition of forever, he said that the divorce paperwork was moving through the system and they needed to be patient.

  She knew immediately how she would tell him. The staff would be gone again this coming weekend. She’d sneak out to the basketball court and chalk a tiny corner, just for him. A simple picture—her hand, his hand, and between them, a dark-haired, blue-eyed baby. The Midnight Chalker would come full-circle, and Baby Doe would live on in Andy’s son.

  The grief redeemed, the promise reborn.

  But for now, Julia had kids coming soon and easels to set up. Today was the day they’d have their first full-sized blank canvas. She washed her hands, brushed her hair, and came downstairs with that queasy flutter in her stomach and a bounce in her step. The doorbell barely registered when it rang.

  When she heard a woman’s voice, she thought, One of the kids’ moms. They always rang first as if this were still the mansion it once was. When she heard Andy’s voice, she felt a pang, trouble at home for someone.

  Julia eased her way into the foyer, saw Andy embracing a young woman with sun-streaked hair, holding her as if a single breath would tear her away. Someone’s mother—so young, but they often were. Someone’s mother in deep distress. Until she realized the woman was laughing and crying at the same time, and Andy with her.

  “Excuse me,” Julia said, stepping back.

  They turned and stared at her, Andy’s face flushing to the roots of his blond hair. The woman pawed away her tears, then extended her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Kathleen Hamlin. Andy’s wife.”

  “Oh,” Julia said, fighting for composure. Fighting for breath. “Visiting from Georgia?”

  Katie tipped her head to the s
ide. “I’ve been in Uganda. Volunteering for Village2Village. I wasn’t due back for another few weeks but . . .”

  Andy stood behind Katie now, pleading eyes. Giving Julia a little shake of the head.

  “. . . the government pulled my visa. No reason given, but they do that sometimes. So I thought I’d surprise Andy.” Katie smiled. “We agreed to do separate missions this summer. I didn’t know how much I’d miss him.”

  A strong cramp seized Julia’s stomach, a fist around her uterus, and she thought she would miscarry on the spot. Take him, Jesus, because all I can give this child is disappointment and shame.

  The pain passed and she mustered the breath to say, “Welcome home” and “Please excuse me because I’ve got kids coming any minute.” She backed into the art room and stood among all the blank canvases, her hands itching for chalk. When the kids came, she took them outside and told them to fill the court with whatever they wanted and so they did—with fanciful and adventurous and sometimes bloody images.

  These would draw a reprimand from Reverend Paul and a deep hosing because it was one thing to draw your pain on something small enough to show Dr. Liz and talk about it. It was another to announce on the pavement that dreams always died in bloody and awful ways. So Julia commandeered her piece of the pavement, the outline of her and Andy’s love long gone but the image of that night tattooed in her knees and hands. She drew Baby Doe for the last time and then folded him into a closed flower and prayed that God really would engrave him on the palm of His hand.

  She found Reverend Paul, told him she had a family emergency and was so sorry that she had to leave. She accepted his offer of a ride to the bus station. Andy caught her as she was packing.

  “Let me explain,” he said.

  “There was no divorce,” Julia said. “And I was a fool.”

  “I cared for you,” Andy said. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about Katie.”

  “Let me make that decision for you. Good-bye.”

  While waiting for the bus to Boston, Julia called Jeanne. “Please, can you help me?”

  Jeanne said of course with no questions asked.

  Julia rode the four hours in silence, with one thought. It is not Andy’s son. It is my daughter, and I will name her Hope because God will surely give her what I cannot.

  Eleven

  Boston

  Thursday, Midday

  Yesterday should have been the stuff that movies were made of. Julia had huddled under the covers with the two daughters she had given up at birth, eating junk food and talking about silly things. Every hour or so, one of them would jump out of bed, run in place for five or ten minutes, and then bring their body heat back under the covers to share.

  A grace day with her daughters. A lost day for Dillon, another twenty-four hours whittled out of not long with no hope in sight. Julia sneaked into the bathroom to phone him several times, not wanting him to know that she was with his sisters. A bright kid, he’d put two and two together and come up with liver—the correct result but only if one of the girls was compatible and would donate. She kept the conversations light for his sake.

  Matt had to tell her to stop calling because Dillon needed to rest.

  So she climbed back under the covers with the girls and talked about everything except the two elephants in the room. Julia longed to tell Destiny and Chloe about their brother. How he laughed. How he was close friends with the quarterback of the football team, the head cheerleader, and the autistic girl he made sure to sit with sometimes at lunch.

  The other topic that had been forbidden was the camcorder. Once Chloe was clear of the drugs—though horribly hungover—Destiny nagged and Julia gently prodded. Chloe had nothing more to say on the subject and screamed at them to let it be.

  The roar of the snowplow came on Wednesday night like a trumpet blast from heaven. They bought the last shovel at the hardware store around the corner and dug out the Mercedes. Julia cringed at the damage from the highway spin-out until she saw Chloe’s rental.

  A renegade road sign had smashed through the windshield, something that Destiny had somehow forgotten to tell them. Chloe’s phone was filled with messages from Jack and her mother, even though Destiny had texted them both to explain where they were and that they were safe. Chloe made arrangements for the rental to be towed and then drove back to Boston in the battered Mercedes with Julia and Destiny.

  Covered in fresh snow, the city was like a dream. Christmas lights glittered everywhere. Shoppers crowded the sidewalks, volunteers rang the Salvation Army bells with good cheer. Snow banks were higher than Julia’s head. Boston’s rainstorm had yielded almost two feet of snow.

  Julia heard a report about some poor soul who had been killed by a tree limb, and she trembled to think that could have been Destiny. Then she hated herself for wondering if the victim had a donor card and type-O blood.

  Sally had brought the plane back from Dallas after the airports reopened. She called a half hour ago to say the flight plan was filed and they could be in Colorado by dinnertime.

  Chloe refused to say anything more about Rob Jones. Maybe it’s for the best, Destiny said. Sleeping dogs, and all that.

  Julia FaceTimed with Matt, asking his advice on what she should do to help Chloe.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “I have to do something.”

  “She’s twenty-two-years old. This was her mistake—her emotional adultery. You can’t fix it for her.”

  “She’s like a wounded puppy,” Julia said. “She doesn’t know whether to turn left or right.”

  “It sounds like that act is playing well with you, Julia. Did you stop to think that this is simply clever manipulation?”

  “Don’t say that, Matt. You don’t know her.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “And that’s my sin.”

  “Drop it, Julia. Your part in this is long over. Long ago addressed and forgiven.”

  Oh, God, give me the words, she prayed. “Not completely. There’s the matter of Andy Hamlin ahead of us.”

  “I thought . . .” Matt rubbed his head. “. . . this was just like the Tom situation.”

  “I let you assume that.” Julia wanted to turn away so he couldn’t see the shame flush through her face. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “All these years I let you assume it was over and done and my repentance and reconciliation was complete.”

  “Say it, Julia.” Matt’s voice hardened. “Just tell me.”

  “I never told Andy about the pregnancy.”

  “What? What! He doesn’t know he’s got a kid?”

  “I was so humiliated when I realized I was just a summer fling, I couldn’t bear to look at him—or his wife—a moment longer than it took me to get out of that place. I came back to Boston and had the baby. Andy did not legally surrender Chloe because he didn’t know she existed.

  “I knew I’d lose custody. The second kid in less than two years, no income, no stability, no sense of what was right. I felt like filth and I hated Andy and his pretty, sparkling wife for making me feel like that.

  “For a day, maybe a couple of insane days, I thought about going to Tom and telling him he owed me this—to help me go to court and make sure Andy and his wife couldn’t take her from me. So I went to his office. I could see him through the glass, and he looked so tired and yet so happy at the same time that I thought . . . I thought I had to let him go, and let baby Destiny go. And I had to let the child under my skin grow and then let him or her go too.

  “Mattie, I don’t mind if Andy and his wife hate me when I tell them he has a daughter. But I can’t bear the thought of them hating her.”

  “Then don’t put them through this,” Matt said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—these girls initiated a joyride through your past and look at the mess it is already. Why drag two more people into this? I want you to come home.”

  “I can’t. I promised I’d bring them to their fathers, and th
ey promised to get tested. I can’t stop now. And Chloe’s in such a mess—”

  “Chloe?” Matt jutted out his jaw. “The rich girl with a perfectly healthy liver has a mess of her own making to clean up. Boo-hoo. You’re not there to play social worker, Julia. Come home before you do any more damage.”

  “Before I do damage? Is that how you see me—like a one-woman wrecking crew?”

  He drew a long breath. “I see you as a loving, desperate mother. We took a risk, having you meet the daughters. It’s not panning out. God must have something else planned . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Tom had a choice to parent or surrender. I never gave Andy that choice. I carried his daughter and then I carried this secret until right now. It’s nearly unforgiveable. And Dillon. Our son’s illness, our inability to find him a liver . . . all of it is on me.

  “Maybe,” Julia said. “Maybe if I lay my sin out to Andy, give him his due after all these years, maybe God will redeem this for Chloe, redeem something for Dillon.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “The decision isn’t yours or mine anymore. It’s Chloe’s. And if she says Colorado, we are going to Colorado.”

  “But, Julia—”

  “I’ll call you from Colorado,” Julia said and ended the call.

  Thursday, Midday

  “A video camera? That sounds kind of dodgy,” Luke said.

  “Tell me about it,” Destiny whispered, hoping her voice wouldn’t reverberate on the marble walls of the bathroom.

  “So, no cops?”

  “We don’t know if a crime was committed. She claims there was no sex, and without all that forensic stuff and blood work, we can’t even prove she was drugged. This guy would probably say she was fantabulously drunk.”