Chapter 43
Mickey set a plate of goulash and biscuits in front of Doug. He looked exhausted. Wheat harvest was in full swing, and he’d only been in long enough to take a quick shower and plop down at the table. The sun was quickly sinking below the hedgerow west of the house and the clock over the refrigerator said 9:55. He’d been working since five-thirty this morning, in the field most of that time.
Growing up in Clayburn, Mickey had always known harvest was a pivotal time of year, but she’d never realized what hard work it was to bring in the crops. Since the first day the wheat was ripe enough to cut, Doug had been out the door before dawn and didn’t come home until it was dark.
“You want iced tea or a Coke?”
He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “Tea, please. But I can get it.” He started to push back his chair.
“Don’t be silly. Stay put.” She fixed his drink and brought it to the table, then went back to the sink.
“The kids are all in bed?”
She nodded.
They’d barely seen him for three days. If she hadn’t taken them out to the field last night, he wouldn’t have seen them at all yesterday. But she and the kids had stopped at Dairy Barn on their way home from the daycare and ordered chocolate malts for him and the crew.
“How’s Kayeleigh?”
Dishrag still in hand, she turned from the sink and leaned the small of her back against the counter. “She seems okay. She really does. She asked about you.”
He looked up and talked over a mouthful of goulash. “What do you mean?”
She twisted the dishrag. “When we got home from daycare, she asked when you’d be in. When I told her it would be late, she asked me to wake her up before you left the house tomorrow.”
“You think something’s wrong?”
“I asked her. She said ‘no.’ I think she’s just worried about you. I don’t know—” Mickey hesitated, not sure if Doug was in the right frame of mind to discuss what had happened the other morning. But harvest or not, they couldn’t just sweep things under the rug.
He took a swig of tea and looked up at her. “Go on…what were you going to say?”
“Kayeleigh seems like a different girl since…everything that happened. She’s been really sweet to me.” Her voice broke and she teared up. “I think she just wants reassurance that things are okay between you and her.”
Doug didn’t trust his own voice, but he nodded. Mickey was right. He would be sure and wake Kayeleigh in the morning. He hoped her new demeanor meant she was handling everything okay. There was a lot for her to process—the terrible thing he’d done in striking her, then he and Mickey practically accusing her of being pregnant. And of course, their discovery about Kaye.
He still didn’t know if it was true or not. Maybe they would never know. But he and Mickey had gone online and found numerous references to positive pregnancy results that remained readable many months or even years after the initial test.
Somehow, he felt certain in his heart that it was true. That Kaye had been expecting a baby. Knowing her, she’d probably had a plan up her sleeve to tell him in some clever, romantic way.
In spite of the harried pace and long hours of the harvest season, he’d had many hours riding the combine to think about everything that had happened. God had both touched his heart and broken him in those moments. He knew he needed to share some of the things he’d discovered with Mickey. Things that might not be easy for her to hear.
Maybe tonight was a good time to begin.
He finished eating and took his plate over to the sink. Mickey took it from him and put it in the dishwasher. Somehow, they’d become shy with each other, but he forced himself to look her in the eye. “Are you too tired to talk for a little bit?”
She lifted her brows in surprise. “No.”
“Mind if we go out on the porch?”
“Sure.” She switched off the light over the sink and followed him out front.
The air was still warm and crickets chirped a monotonous chorus. An inky blue sky formed a starry canopy over them, and something about that infinite sky put a lump in his throat. A portal to heaven. Where Kaye and Rachel lived now. Where the answers to all his questions were hidden.
He eased onto the top step, elbows on his knees. Mickey sat beside him, leaning back against the round column that supported the porch roof.
She bent her head, waiting. How could he possibly say the things that were in his heart without hurting her? He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.
“Doug, I need to say something.”
He waited, praying her words wouldn’t make the things he had to say more difficult.
She shifted on the step, angling to face him. “When you…got so angry with Kayeleigh the other day, I realized that it wasn’t really her you were angry with. It was me.”
The pain etched on her face nearly killed him. He wasn’t making excuses for his behavior, but he couldn’t honestly argue with her conclusion.
She swallowed hard and went on. “I don’t know how we…how you and I lost whatever there was between us once. I don’t know why we haven’t been able to”—her voice broke—“to find that again. I thought I could make a difference in spite of it…for the kids, if not for you. But if this…this anger is what I’ve done to you, what I’ve brought into your life, then I can’t stay.”
“No, Mickey. Please. It’s not your fault. What I did—it’s not your fault. Please don’t ever think that.”
“What am I supposed to think? I saw in Kayeleigh’s eyes that she’d never seen you like this before. Not until I came along.”
“But I can’t blame you, Mickey. It’s…when I lost Kaye, when I lost Rachel, I lost my way. I should have turned to God more than ever, and most of the time I thought I was. But…I’ve been praying a lot these last few days, and I realize that, in many ways, I turned my back on God.”
Mickey nodded as though she’d recognized that all along.
“Since we found out about Kaye, about the baby––” He dropped his head. “I don’t know…in some ways I feel like I’ve begun the grieving process all over again.”
“And I wonder if you ever truly grieved in the first place. The way you needed to. I think I got in the way, Doug. It was too soon. I should have realized that. And did, I think. I just didn’t want to admit it. To you, or to myself.”
He nodded. She was probably right. In fact, her words sounded familiar. Maybe she’d said as much when he was courting her. Or maybe Wren’s words––and Harriet’s, and who-knew-who-else’s—were coming into focus now. He should have listened. “I was in so much pain—emotional pain—when I first lost Kaye and Rachel. I don’t think I allowed myself to think too deeply, even to remember what I’d had. How blessed I was. It hurt too much. That wasn’t healthy. No matter how agonizing it was, I should have plowed through the pain. Instead…”
He looked at his boots, trying to find the right words. “Instead, I reached for you. And for a little while, I felt happy. You helped me forget how much I hurt. I just wanted something, anything that would take away the pain. You did that for me.”
She looked at him with such hope in her eyes. But he couldn’t lie to her again. He’d done too much of that already. “Mickey, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize what I was doing, but I used you. You were…almost like a drug for me. I just wanted the hurt to go away. I was just so desperate to be happy again. And for a little while you made me feel happy. But…I’m afraid I mistook happiness for love. I’m so sorry.”
“And now—it’s too late?”
He feared the ember of hope he saw in her eyes. Whatever he did, he could not fan it into flame. At a loss for words, he simply nodded.
She rubbed the frayed hem of her T-shirt. “I wish we could start all over. I wish there was some way to turn back the clock— But, of course, if that were possible, you’d turn it back to…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “To Kaye.”
He couldn’t deny
it. Nor could he look at the pain in this beautiful woman’s face. He turned away, gazed to the east.
What had he done? What had he done?
Her lower lip quivered. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No! Oh, Mickey, no.” He’d never thought she would leave him. Even when he told her the truth—that he didn’t love her as he should, couldn’t love her as long as he carried this terrible love for Kaye—he’d never expected that she might leave him.
“Doug, I know now that you never loved me…not in that way. Not the way I need you to. As much as it hurts, I understand that. I do. But how can I stay, knowing that?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, numb.
“If I leave…” She began to weep and covered her face with her hands. “What about the kids? I love them, too—” In the midst of her tears, she gave a little gasp, and he realized that with that small, three-letter word, she’d confessed that she still loved him.
Her shoulders shook and he wanted to hold her while she cried. But how could he? If he touched her, it would negate everything he needed to say. “I don’t want you to leave, Mickey. I don’t know if my kids could ever forgive me if I pushed you away. They love you.”
He wished with all his might that he could go on, say the next logical words: “I love you, too.” But he couldn’t. Confusion swirled around him like the swift eddies of the Smoky Hill in the spring thaw.
Finally he took a deep breath. “Mickey, I have nothing to offer you. Nothing. I’m a miserable, broken man, and I’ve caused you more pain than any woman deserves, let alone a woman as wonderful as you are. But…I’m asking you to stay. For the kids. They need you.”
She sat with her head down, and he couldn’t tell if she was angry or hurt, or simply numb…like he was.
“I promise you, Mickey, I’ll be good to you. I will never, ever again lay a hand on one of the children, or God forbid, on you. I’m not a rich man, but you will never want for anything that’s in my power to give you. But…for now, I can’t…offer you love. Not the love you’re wanting. That you expect.”
“What choice do I have, Doug?” A splinter of bitterness crept into her voice. “I’ve rented my house out. I can’t go to my brothers. I can’t afford another place. You’ve left me no choice.”
He tried to breathe through the boulder sitting on his chest. “If you hate me, I don’t blame you. What I’ve done to you—the position I’ve put you in—it’s reprehensible. But I’m asking you to stay. I’m begging you to stay.”
“I don’t hate you, Doug. What we did—you didn’t force me to say, ‘I do.’ But if I stay, I-I can’t share your bed.”
Her words startled him. “No. Of course not. I’ll…move into Landon’s room. You can have our—the master bedroom. And the bath.”
“What will you tell the kids?”
“I don’t know. We’ll come up with something.”
“You’ll come up with something.”
“I’m sorry. Of course.” He dared to touch her arm. “Mickey, all I can hope for is that someday you’ll forgive me. And that maybe—” He’d been about to offer her hope that someday his wounds might heal, and he might be able to offer her some piece of himself, of his heart.
He shrugged and let his words trail off. He’d already made her too many idle promises. From this day forward, he vowed in his heart to offer her nothing less—or more—than kindness.
And the truth.
Chapter 44
Doug pulled the last sheet of paper off the massive Heidelberg press and punched the shutdown switch. The roar of the press faltered to a whirr, then shut off. A dying fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Trevor was in his office, working late. Through the open door, Doug could see him at his computer, but the CD player that usually blared classical music was silent.
He untied his filthy apron and hung it by the back door. Grabbing a copy of this week’s edition of the Courier to take home to Mickey, he gathered his lunch bag, flipped off the lights, and opened the back door to a blast of August heat.
“Doug?”
He turned to see Trevor standing in the doorway between his office and the pressroom.
“Hey, Trevor.” He closed the door and set his things on his desk beside a precariously stacked pile of school calendars. Enrollment was only a couple weeks off and the district office had gotten the order for the calendar in late. “I was just finishing up. You need something?”
“I want to talk to you for a minute…if you have time.” Trevor rubbed his hands together and looked at the floor, seeming reluctant to speak.
For a terrifying second Doug thought his boss––his friend––was going to let him go. Business had been on the slow side for the print shop, but that wasn’t all that unusual for this time of year. Things would pick up once school started.
But when Trevor looked up, he was wearing an odd smile. “We just found out we’re having another baby.”
“Oh, man, that’s great!” Doug closed the space between them and shook Trevor’s hand, feeling genuinely happy for the man. “Congratulations, buddy.”
“Yeah, thanks. I…we didn’t exactly plan on having another one this soon.”
Doug laughed. “Well, you’ve got to know I know how that feels.” He waited for Trevor to laugh along.
Instead his friend’s expression grew sober. “Man, we can barely handle Jenna. I don’t know when the last time was either of us slept through the night. I thought babies were supposed to sleep all the time.”
Doug stifled a laugh, then decided it might be just what the situation called for. “They start sleeping really well when they hit ten. About the same time they could finally be big help.”
Trevor shook his head and let out a low whistle. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“You do it one day at a time.” He punched Trevor in the arm. “One kid at a time.”
“Was it as easy as you made it look when your kids were little? Last night Meg and I were doing the math—two cribs, two strollers, two highchairs, two—”
“Make that three of everything if you have twins. Like Kaye and me.”
Trevor’s eyes grew round. “Thanks a lot.”
“Just a dose of reality.” Doug laughed.
This time Trevor joined in. “So you’re telling me we’ll survive?”
Doug clapped a hand to Trevor’s shoulder and held it there. “You’ll not only survive, you’ll thrive. That first baby’s great, but she’s just practice. When the others come along, that’s when you really start to feel like a family.”
“Whoa…whoa!” Trevor held up a hand and took a backward step. “We’re thinking two is a very nice number. Two.”
“Two’s nice,” Doug deadpanned. “Six is better.” He thought of Rachel, and his heart welled with remembrance. And with love and pride.
“Don’t let Meg hear you say that.”
Doug laughed, then turned serious. “The thing is, Trevor, you do it together. I couldn’t have done it alone…but then, I don’t think Kaye could have either. God knew what he was doing when he designed families.”
“I know you’re right on that point. The six kids’ part, I’m not so sure about.”
“I’d be up a creek without Mickey now. After I lost Kaye…” He shook his head. The truth was, for all the mistakes he made with Mickey, he didn’t know how he ever would have gotten through without her. For sure, things would have been far rougher on the kids without her gentle touch on their lives.
“How are things going with you two? I know it was a struggle for a while…”
“Still is some days. Most days, I guess. More for her than me, probably.”
“Well, I’m praying for you.”
“It’s Mickey you ought to be praying for. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how she’s put up with me all this time. But she has. And she deserves a medal.”
“I doubt she thinks she got the short end of the stick.”
“Oh, she knows. She’s a very intelligent woman.
” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. Then he immediately felt guilty for making light of what he’d said.
“You don’t sound like you’re kidding.” Trevor’s voice was tinged with worry.
He sighed. “I’m not, Trevor. I cheated Mickey out of a lot of things. Not intentionally, but I didn’t think. Or if I did, I was only thinking of one person. And it wasn’t Mickey.”
More and more, he was aware of how much Mickey had sacrificed to marry him. She’d never thrown it in his face or reminded him of all the dreams she’d thrown away. Dreams that would never be fulfilled—that big wedding with the white dress. Children of her own. Even the excitement of a long courtship and time to enjoy being engaged. All those things had been denied her because he’d fooled himself into thinking she would ease his pain.
And she did. It was good to have her laughter in his house. Even if it wasn’t him that provoked it. For his kids’ sake, he was glad Mickey was part of their lives. But she deserved better.
“But you’re working things out?”
He wished he could honor the hope in Trevor’s voice, but he couldn’t look him in the eye. “Let’s just say, we’re making the best of it.”
“You’ve been through some hard stuff. I know where you’ve been, man.”
“I know you do.”
“Maybe…maybe I should have been there for you more.”
“You didn’t have to say a word. Watching you—breathe, survive—helped me through those first days.”
“But it’s hard on a marriage. Even all these years”––Trevor swallowed hard––“after Amy and Trev, Meg still has to put up with the…aftermath.”
Doug shook his head. He knew what Trevor was saying and hated that it was true for Mickey, too.
“Have you talked to Phil?”
“Pastor Phil?”
Trevor nodded.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a good counselor, Doug. If you haven’t already talked to someone, I can’t recommend it enough. He helped me get my head on straight.”
“Your head is on straighter than any man I know.”
Yesterday's Embers (Clayburn Novels Book 3) Page 26
