by Liz Bradford
“Thanks.” Warmth filled Jocelyn as she hugged Becca and left. She drove away and tried to pray, but her words felt hollow. God, I know You say You love me. But I also know I’ve screwed up. Why would You even listen to me now? But help me. Please.
On Thursday afternoon, Jocelyn sat at the little wrought-iron table on the screened-in porch at the back of the little Cape Cod house that had once been hers and Patrick’s. She poured herself a glass of sweet tea while she prayed and waited for Patrick to arrive. She had no idea what he wanted to say or how he would take her news. He could be such a hothead, but he was the one who’d initiated this conversation. Maybe he seriously wanted to get back together. But is it too late for that?
The low rumble of Patrick’s car echoed off the garage at the end of the driveway. She sat up a little straighter. The nose of the car appeared, and as soon as she heard Patrick close his car door, she hollered, “On the porch.” She didn’t want him getting mad because he couldn’t find her.
A moment later he opened the door to the porch. “Hey.” His cocky smile didn’t spark her heart like it used to.
“Hey.” Once upon a time, whenever this man walked into a room, her heart fluttered. Once upon a time, whenever he looked at her, she had melted. Once upon a time wasn’t today. Today those feelings weren’t there.
Those feelings hadn’t been there for years. Love was a choice, and she had chosen to love him for all those years, no matter how he treated her. Some days choosing to love him had gone against every fiber in her being, but God had given her the grace she had needed.
Well, until last summer when she’d stopped praying every day for God’s help to love Patrick. She hadn’t meant to stop praying, but once he’d moved out, her life became easier and, somehow, she’d stopped thinking about it.
“Would you like some tea?” She lifted a glass.
“Sure.” He sat in the chair across from her.
She forced her hand to stay steady and poured his tea. How should she start? She bit her lip.
But before she could say anything, Patrick spoke. “I think maybe it’s time I move back in.”
The air vanished from Jocelyn’s lungs. She looked down at her hands wrapped around her glass. As soon as she regained her breath, she said, “Why couldn’t you have said that last fall?”
“Because I wasn’t in the place to. Especially after Scott tried to set me up for what he did by putting his stupid rape kit in my bag.”
“I could have been there for you.” She tried desperately to keep her voice steady as every possible emotion flooded her body.
“No. I needed something different then.”
Jocelyn’s heart thundered. What did he mean by “different”?
“Look, Jocelyn, I’m going to be honest with you. As you know, a man has needs, and since we weren’t connecting, I got my needs met elsewhere. There were several women—nothing you need to worry about. They kept me satisfied, so you don’t have to.”
Her stomach did not drop like it would have years ago, but why should it? She wasn’t even slightly surprised, nor had she been faithful herself. For the first time since he’d walked onto the screened-in porch, Jocelyn looked him in the eye.
He smiled at her. “What do you think? Should we give this marriage a second chance?”
“Well...” She pursed her lips together before she continued. “I need to tell you something before we talk about this any further.”
“Talk about it? There’s nothing to discuss. If I say I’m moving back in, that’s what I’m doing.”
Of course he didn’t care what she thought or had to say. Every cell in her body screamed to run away. There was no out. She looked out across the backyard. “Patrick…” she looked back at him. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. “That’s not possible. We haven’t been together in over a year.”
“I know.” Was she going to have to spell it out to him?
A shadow passed over Patrick’s face as realization dawned on him. “You had an affair?” He pulled back and sneered. His nostrils flared.
Jocelyn instinctively sat back in her chair and stiffened as his anger grew, and a different side of him emerged.
“How dare you?” He stood and pointed to the kitchen door. “Inside now. We will not talk about this outside where the neighbors can hear.”
But maybe they should hear you.
He clenched and unclenched his fists, and a vein in his forehead pulsed so hard it looked as if it would explode.
“No. Let’s j—”
“Don’t tell me no, woman! Get your butt inside now.”
She didn’t have a choice, did she? He was her husband. Wasn’t she supposed to be submissive? She stood and set the pitcher and glasses back onto the tray she’d used to bring them out.
“Wow! You aren’t a little pregnant, are you?”
“I’m four months.” She kept her voice soft and walked past him and into the house. “Why are you angry? It’s not like you—”
“That’s different.” He was in the doorway behind her.
“Not really.” Her voice cracked. She turned into the kitchen.
Patrick huffed. “You’re such an idiot!” His hand contacted her back, and he shoved her. The tray and drinks flew across the tiny kitchen and crashed into the cabinets by the sink.
She had expected the shove. He always pushed her. But her center of gravity had changed, and the push threw her off-balance.
“You stupid klutz! So, who is the dog?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I say it does. Who knocked you up?”
“I’m not telling you.” She knelt on one knee and picked up the pieces of broken glass scattered across the floor.
“Get up and talk to me!” He grabbed her hair and yanked hard, forcing her to stand, making it hard to get her balance.
She backed up in front of the sink and braced herself. She wanted to shout at him to leave, but she didn’t dare.
Patrick made a big show of hauling in a deep breath, and he stepped closer to her. “Now look”—his voice was calmer, but he jabbed his index finger at her chest—“I’ll still consider taking you back.”
Jocelyn bit her tongue. She wanted to spit back at him that he was the one who left, but she knew better.
“One condition, Jocelyn. I’ll come back if you get an abortion.”
Her heart seized in her chest. That was the only thing she wasn’t willing to do. “Never.” The word barely escaped her lips.
Patrick’s face contorted.
Jocelyn tried to back away, but she had nowhere to go.
“What was that?” He took a step closer.
“I said no.”
Patrick’s hand flew up across his body, and, before Jocelyn could react, the flesh of the back of his hand met her check. The class ring on his finger caught her cheekbone, ripping her skin. Curse words flew in her direction.
She reached back to the counter to steady herself, but her hand slipped, and she fell to the floor. She tucked her head down, wrapped her arms around her belly, and turned away from Patrick. He swung his foot at her. The toes of his boot collided with her right thigh. She felt it, but the pain didn’t register. Her mind was too focused on protecting her baby to acknowledge the pain or the unending profanities and insults being hurled at her as Patrick kicked her several more times.
He swept his arm across the counter opposite of her. The ceramic jars of flour, sugar, and coffee plummeted to the floor with a crash, barely missing her. “This isn’t over.” He turned and stormed out the door.
The emotions and pain finally registered. Her leg and back hurt, but she had successfully shielded her belly. Pain shot through her hand. A large chunk of glass was sticking out of her palm. She stared at it, and tears streamed down her face. Why hadn’t she left the tea things out on the porch? She leaned her head back against the cabinets. A flutter in her womb brought her head back up as she lo
oked down at her round belly.
“You okay in there little one?” Her voice shook along with her hands. What was she going to do? “Jesus, how can I tell Gavin now? If I tell him, Patrick will find out it was him.” Patrick would kill Gavin if he knew. More than ever before she wanted to tell Gavin the truth, but now she couldn’t. She let her head fall back against the cabinet. All she longed for right now was for Gavin to wrap his arms around her and take care of her wounds. But only Jesus could heal the wounds in her heart.
“Jesus, I need You right now. What do I do if Patrick comes back?”
CHAPTER THREE
Gavin stared at the words of Scripture. The guys in his Bible study were discussing the story of David and Bathsheba from Second Samuel 11–12, while he listened. They sat around the table in a classroom at church on Thursday evening. He had spent the past week studying this passage and had really sought God’s forgiveness, but the enormity of his sin still weighed heavily on his shoulders.
God, I thought we dealt with this. I know I sinned against You and Jocelyn. I know You forgive me, so why does it feel like I haven’t dealt with this yet? Is this the devil trying to bring up the past to distract me from You? Or did I miss something?
A verse he had memorized came to mind: “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed…” Really? I have to tell the guys? Gavin looked around the table. He trusted these men with his life. Normally, a few others came, but only Jared, Caleb, and Adam were there tonight. You didn’t get higher quality guys than that.
“Gavin, you’ve been really quiet,” Caleb said. “What’s God doing?”
“Oh, He’s convicting me.”
“Ready to confess?”
Gavin squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then faced his friends. “I really screwed up. I want to be like David—well, the whole ‘man after God’s own heart’ part—but I’ve managed to be more like this David.” He tapped the page in his Bible.
“How so?” Jared asked.
Gavin smoothed the pages of his Bible out. “I had an affair with a married woman.” He leaned his head in his hands, ready to hear the “how could you’s?,” but they didn’t come. Jared rested his hand on Gavin’s shoulder. Silence hung in the room. Gavin met the eyes of his friends, his brothers in Christ.
Caleb asked, “Is it still going on?”
“Ended about three months ago.” Gavin’s heart ached. He could never be with her again.
“Did you cut it off or did she?” Adam asked.
“She did. Just stopped returning my calls and texts and started avoiding me. I guess for the best.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Adam said. “Especially after what happened with Nikki.”
“True.” He tried to swallow the tears forming in his eyes, but it didn’t work. Adam was right that the intensity of the pain he felt from losing Jocelyn drudged up the sting of the pain of Nikki running off on him.
“I take it the affair was more than a one-time fling?” Jared asked.
Gavin nodded.
“Well, you know what James says.” Jared squeezed his shoulder. “That we’re to confess our sins and pray for each other, and then healing comes.”
Gavin smiled at Jared’s reminder of what God had just prodded him with.
“So, let’s pray.” The other men moved around him and put their hands on Gavin and Jared began to pray.
“Father God, thank You for being available to us. Thank You for Your gentleness and patience. Our brother Gavin has brought his sin before You, and we praise You for the forgiveness You offer us at the foot of the cross. We ask that You would heal his heart from the pain of the sin. Wash him clean, that he would feel new joy in You. We pray You would spur on his spirit to walk in submission to Your commands. We also ask, God, that You would heal him from the sting of rejection. This experience has brought some freshness to old wounds, and we ask for healing for those as well. We pray that You would be at work in this situation. That Your will would be done. And that You would redeem the sin we each walk through for Your good. We pray You would be glorified even when the enemy means to destroy. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Gavin wiped away the tears that had fallen during Jared’s prayer. The strain of his sin seemed to lessen as he embraced God’s forgiveness. “Thanks, guys.”
“We’re here for you,” Caleb said.
As Adam sat back in his seat across the table from Gavin, he said, “Wait, you said you were like David. You didn’t kill her husband, did you?”
“No, I didn’t… but if I did, do you think I’d tell a group that includes a couple of cops?”
The men laughed before returning their focus to the text.
Jocelyn fiddled with her hair, making sure it covered her right eye well enough, as she walked up to the police station Friday. She had spent the morning listening to worship music, and it felt like the Lord had filled her with new strength. She wasn’t going to let yesterday’s spat with Patrick weigh her down. Never again would she let him control her mood. There were better things in her life than her lousy excuse for a husband.
She took the stairs that led up to the front door too quickly and winced. Her right thigh hurt as did her lower back on the same side. Exactly where Patrick’s boot had found its resting place. The bruises were probably nasty, but she had avoided looking. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and eased her way through the heavy glass doors. She turned toward the stairs that would take her down to her little corner of the lab.
But Becca’s voice rang out across the open lobby. “Jocelyn!”
She turned to see her friend coming toward her with a big smile. A smile that quickly faded as Becca drew closer. “Joc, what happened?”
“Oh, nothing.” She tilted her head a little further to the left so her hair fell farther into her face.
Becca reached up and brushed Jocelyn’s hair to the side. “That’s not nothin’, girl.”
Jocelyn watched as dots connected in Becca’s head.
“Did you end up seeing Patrick yest— He hit you?”
She couldn’t lie to Becca, her friend and confidant, the only one who knew the whole—well, most—of the situation. Jocelyn shrugged.
“Are you hurt anywhere else? Did he do more than…?”
Jocelyn nodded.
Becca reached out and gingerly pulled Jocelyn into a hug. “Oh, girl.”
Jocelyn accepted her friend’s empathy and shoved down a few tears.
Becca pulled her back to arm’s length. “Come with me. Something has to be done about this.”
“Oh, Becca, no. I’ll be fine. What are you going to do? Open a case and press charges against a cop?”
“You bet.” Becca gently squeezed Jocelyn’s shoulder and turned toward the detectives’ squad room. The one place in the whole building she didn’t want to go.
He would be there. And as if seeing him wouldn’t be hard enough, if Becca pursued this case against Patrick, so would the father of the child she carried. After all, Gavin was Becca’s partner. “I can’t.” Becca had no clue.
“I’m not letting him get away with hitting you.”
There was no talking Becca out of something once she’d set her mind to it. Jocelyn had no choice but to follow. She pulled her lightweight cardigan over her belly, hoping to conceal it just a while longer.
As soon as Becca pushed through the doors into the squad room, Jocelyn’s eyes fell on Gavin. Her heart felt like it was in a vice. She had hardly seen him at all in the last three months. She had occasionally crossed paths with him at a crime scene and here at the station. But she’d worked hard at avoiding him. Her conflicting emotions were almost unbearable. He was as handsome as ever, his blond hair cropped short and his strong jawline freshly shaved. But the pangs of guilt and shame at the memories of their time together shredded her heart.
“Gavin,” Becca called out.
Jocelyn pulled her bag in front of her belly.
Gavin turned. His crooked s
mile faded to shock. His eyes locked with hers. But was that a flash of pleasure?
Jocelyn and Becca came up to Gavin’s desk, where he was standing. “I’ve got us a case.” Becca’s voice was quiet and solemn.
His eyes didn’t break with Jocelyn’s. “What’s up?”
The hair in Jocelyn’s face was starting to drive her crazy anyway, so she answered Gavin’s questions by tucking it behind her ear.
“Oh, my word, Jocelyn, what happened?” He took a step closer to her, and his hand gravitated toward her face, but he quickly dropped it.
She bit her lip. She couldn’t form any words.
He grabbed the chair on the other side of his desk and pulled it over for her. “Here, sit. Tell us what happened.”
She sat carefully, keeping her bag in front of her so Gavin wouldn’t see that she was pregnant. She was not ready for that conversation.
“Take us through it,” Gavin said.
Becca pulled her chair next to Jocelyn and nodded.
“Well…” How was she supposed explain any of this without telling Gavin about the baby? “Patrick called on Wednesday and wanted to talk, so he came over yesterday afternoon. He was hoping to try to work things out. He was acting fine. We were actually talking. But when I told him what I needed to say, he got really angry. And when I refused his conditions, he completely lost it.”
A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Jocelyn looked up behind her. It was Adam; Amelia stood next to him. He knelt beside her as she continued.
