“It won’t be easy for either of us, starting over again.” Elaine’s eyes had given him a transparent look straight to her heart. “We’re going to need time to work through all the changes.”
Her words gave him the greatest sense of relief. “I thought . . . I was the only one feeling that way.”
She smiled. “It would be easier for both of us to keep things the way they were, living out our lives in the comfort of the past.”
“But easier isn’t always better.” He put his arm around her shoulders, his eyes still focused on hers.
“Exactly.”
The conversation faded from his mind, and he eased himself up to a sitting position. Elaine understood. This morning she was no doubt going through the same mix of emotions, excited about the future and yet deeply aware of all that had brought them to this day. The closure that would come because of it. The heartache and loss they’d both survived was one reason they’d found a friendship in the first place, but today their overriding joy was bound to mingle, at least in part, with some of that same hurt.
The wedding would take place at four this afternoon, followed by a dinner reception at Katy and Dayne’s. The invitation list wasn’t quite fifty people—family and a few close friends. John had lots of time between now and then, and he already had his day mapped out. Breakfast and Bible time at the dining room table; then he would spend a few hours in the garden, tending to Elizabeth’s roses.
The buyer had closed on the Baxter house nearly a week ago now. John had until the second week in July before he needed to be completely out, enough time to move the furniture he was keeping into the new house, time to let his kids go through what remained in case there was anything they wanted. But it was important that he turn over the house in good condition with the rose garden and yards manicured and attractive, the way he and Elizabeth had always kept it.
Erin and Sam, who would move to town next weekend, had asked for the bedroom furniture, and John was glad. Even after so many decades, the old pieces were in great shape, and at least now the sentimental set would stay in the family.
Slowly John slid his legs over the side of the bed, and as he did his eyes fell on the photo of him and Elizabeth, the one that sat atop the dresser in the corner of the room. The portrait that had brought him such comfort in the months and years since her death.
Without warning, a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal dug its claws into his shoulders and refused to let go. He could never replace what he’d shared with Elizabeth, so why was he about to try? How could he stand in front of his family and friends and pledge a lifetime of love to another woman?
He stood and took measured steps across his room to the dresser, and almost in slow motion he reached out and took hold of the framed photo. Elizabeth’s eyes seemed to be looking straight at him, loving him unconditionally, bringing no judgment even today. “Elizabeth, darling, I didn’t want it to go this way.” His voice was so soft it barely made any sound at all. “I promise I still feel you here with me, as real as if you were standing at my side.”
For a long time, he studied the photo, memorizing it, allowing the image to burn itself even more deeply into his heart. He would keep the picture, the same way Elaine would keep photos of herself with her deceased husband. But would he ever have a moment like this again, where he could look at her eyes and long for her the way he did right now? Or would that be another betrayal, the kind that went against Elaine?
The weight of his emotions and the burden of responsibility that came with choosing to remarry pressed in against him from every side. He set the photo back on the dresser and opened the top drawer. This was where he kept his own copy of Elizabeth’s book of letters. After making one for each of the kids, it had taken little time to put one together for himself. Not that he’d leave it out on the coffee table at their new house, but he wanted it handy.
He pulled it out and tenderly carried it back to the edge of his bed. He sat down, the book on his lap, and opened the front cover. I need to read something from her, something to help me shake the awful sense that I’m doing something wrong by marrying Elaine, that I’m somehow hurting her. . . .
John began flipping through the pages of the book. Many of Elizabeth’s letters had helped him over the years since her death, but right now he wasn’t sure where to turn, which page would contain the assurance he needed.
He took hold of a section of pages and stopped at a letter near the back of the book. Elizabeth had used floral paper, and the vividness of her handwriting stood out more sharply on this one than the others. His book did not contain copies of her letters but the originals. He ran his thumb over the page and with great reverence began at the top.
My dearest John,
He closed his eyes and willed himself to remember her voice, the songlike quality of her tone and the hope that rang out from her soul with every word. When he could hear it again, when her voice was so clear it was as if she were sitting beside him talking to him, he opened his eyes and continued.
Ever since I got sick again, I’ve felt more inclined to write to you. I bring this silly pad of paper with me so that when I’m hooked up to the chemo I have something to take my mind off the treatment. Whenever I place my pen to the paper, my heart turns to you. I’ve told you before that I believe with all my heart God will heal me. Eventually I will be whole and well again. I’m convinced. But I think you and I both know that healing can happen here . . . or it can happen in heaven.
I’m not trying to be negative with this letter, but if God chooses that my healing doesn’t happen until heaven, there are some things I want you to know. First, that you’ve given me a life of love I never could’ve had otherwise. My greatest dreams about marriage pale in comparison to the decades you’ve created for the two of us. I understand that as you’ve looked to God for wisdom and leadership, He’s equipped you to be the man you are. Without our Lord none of this wonderful journey would’ve been possible. So let me just say here that I am grateful for the privilege of loving you, the privilege of being loved by you, and I will remain grateful as long as I live.
John looked away from the scrapbook page and turned his attention to the open bedroom window. The blue was deeper now, the rays of sunlight a warmer golden color. The privilege was all mine, Elizabeth. All mine. With her words filling his mind and heart, he truly could feel her beside him, sharing a morning together one last time. He looked back at the letter and found his place.
Secondly, I want to give you a very special gift, John. The gift of choosing life for yourself no matter what happens with me. I know I’ve written to you about this before, but I think it’s worth repeating. Deuteronomy tells us that God sets before His people life and death and that He urges us at every turn to choose life.
It was the same message John had seen in another of Elizabeth’s letters, the same Bible verse. God must’ve been making a great impression on Elizabeth to make sure he knew her heart, that she would want him to embrace life—even if that life didn’t include her.
You see, love, I’m choosing life right this minute sitting in this chair with the chemo dripping into my veins. I want to live because I want to grow old with you. I want to live to see the birth of our future grandkids and great-grandkids. I want to see the story of our children’s lives unfold in the decades yet to come.
The wording stopped there, but the ending felt strangely abrupt. Was it possible the letter continued on the other side? Typically Elizabeth used a second piece of paper rather than write on the back of a single sheet. But John had the sudden strange sense that this letter was the exception. He eased his thumb beneath the tape at the bottom of the page, and when he’d broken through it, he carefully lifted the page.
Sure enough, there was more to the letter on the back. John felt his breathing quicken as he rotated the book so he could read the writing. He began at the top.
But I also know that God might have another plan for me. If He does, then you must continue with the same fervor fo
r life that we shared as a couple. What I’m saying is you must choose life. I would never want you to waste away in the shadow of all that was. Not if I’m no longer here to be a part of your life. In that case, you must embrace new adventures and new friendships, and you must follow where those friendships lead. If it means remarrying someday, then remarry. And do so with a full and whole heart, knowing that somewhere in heaven I’ll be cheering you on.
John’s breath caught in his throat, and he read that last section again. If it means remarrying someday, then remarry? He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was convinced he’d never read this letter before, not in its entirety. The book probably held more than a hundred notes and letters from Elizabeth, so somehow he must have overlooked the back of this one.
But to find it here . . . today . . . A shiver came over him, and he found his place once more.
I hope you understand the tone and intention behind this letter. I won’t give it to you right away but only if it seems fairly certain that God is planning to heal me in heaven and not here. Until then I will continue to choose life, and I will believe that you will do the same. Whether I’m here or not.
With all my love,
Elizabeth
With great care, John straightened the sheet of paper and closed the book. Then he did something he’d done often throughout his life when his desperate need for Christ was so pressing he could hardly draw a breath and when the realness of God’s miraculous presence was so strong he could do nothing but cry out in praise.
This was one of those times.
He dropped to his knees at the foot of his bed and buried his face in his hands. The oppressive weight of betrayal was gone completely, and in its place his heart and soul were filled with a joy that knew no limits, a joy that was supernatural. God, my Lord, You are so faithful, so kind and good. I asked for a sign, and You answered me in a way that leaves me breathless.
My son, love is of God. . . . Anyone who loves is born of God and knows God.
John was overcome by the presence and Spirit of the Lord, sheltering him, surrounding him like a cloud of love and peace that was simply beyond anything he’d ever felt. The response was straight from Scripture, from 1 John, and in it was proof of God’s love for him but also of God’s endorsement of love between His people. Especially married love between a man and a woman, equally determined to serve Him.
Thank You, God . . . that You would create the universe and send Your Son to die for me and still have time to lead me to that letter. . . . Thank You.
As John opened his eyes, as he stood and returned the book of letters to the top dresser drawer, he felt a happiness he hadn’t felt in years. He would never forget this moment or the way God met him here on the morning of his wedding day.
He went to the window and breathed in long and deep. This was his wedding day! He was going to marry his best friend and begin a life that would take them into their twilight years loving and serving and trusting God together! Great joy welled within him and swelled his heart to nearly bursting. God had brought Elaine into his life, and God had given him the gift of certainty about his decision to marry her.
And something else. The knowledge that somewhere in heaven, Elizabeth was cheering him on.
Luke had taken every detail of his father’s and Ashley’s advice, and in a civil conversation with Reagan, the two of them had agreed to take an hour or two before his father’s wedding to talk. It was just past ten o’clock in the morning when he and his family arrived at Ashley’s house. She and Landon had agreed to take Tommy and Malin for as long as they needed.
“Okay, kids, Mommy and I need you to be very good for Aunt Ashley.” Luke looked over his shoulder at the two of them, both buckled into their car seats. Already this morning Tommy had flown into a full-blown temper tantrum because Malin found his favorite robo-dinosaur and broke off the tail. He sat with his arms crossed, eyes still puffy from his earlier crying. Luke maintained his patience. “I need to hear ‘Yes, Daddy’ from both of you.”
Malin went first, uttering a mournful repetition of the words, and then Tommy followed. But his tone made it clear he wasn’t happy about anything that had happened today. Not the dinosaur, not Malin, and not the idea of being dropped off at his aunt’s house, where he would need to behave.
Luke didn’t dwell on the moment. Reagan opened her car door and began helping Malin out of her seat, and Luke did the same with Tommy. Ashley and Cole met them at the front door.
“Hi, Tommy! I got the bin of LEGOs out.” Cole grinned at his littler cousin. “We can build a whole city if you want.”
The sour look left Tommy’s face instantly. He struggled to get down, and as soon as his Spider-Man tennis shoes hit the ground, he ran to Cole. “It could be a space city! A space city with dinosaurs!”
Gratitude filled Luke and calmed his nerves. “That kid of yours is a keeper.” He reached Ashley and gave her a side hug. Her belly was too big for anything else. “Hey, thanks. . . . I mean it.”
Reagan allowed a faint smile in Ashley’s direction. “We really need this time.”
“I know.” Ashley kissed Reagan on the cheek. “We’ll be praying for you guys.”
“We should be back before noon.” Luke stepped back while Reagan set Malin down. “Is that okay?”
“Plenty of time to get ready for the wedding.” She smiled, and the joy in her expression seemed genuine. She’d come a long way in her acceptance of their dad’s marriage. “Until then we’ll just have playtime.”
Devin appeared at the door, and after a few seconds, he and Malin ran off into the house.
“Thanks again, Ash.”
“Are you kidding?” She grinned at Luke. “Tommy gives us more entertainment than we usually get in a solid week around here.”
They all laughed, and Luke put his hand on the small of Reagan’s back as they walked to the car. The gesture came naturally, and it wasn’t until they reached the bottom of the sidewalk that Luke realized the small victory they’d just experienced. Because this time Reagan hadn’t pulled away.
It’s a good sign, right, God? Please let it be a good sign. He uttered the prayer silently as he took his spot behind the wheel. There was no answer, but that was okay. God was with them today. Luke knew because he’d spent the last few weeks praying about this moment, making sure—like his dad had advised him—that he had thought through everything he needed to say. Even more importantly, waiting for a time when Reagan was open to talking. Something she’d been opposed to when he brought it up the first time.
It was only through repeatedly asking her and by allowing God to give him patience and kindness toward Reagan that finally she had agreed to the meeting they were about to have.
He filled his cheeks with air and exhaled through pursed lips. As he did, he turned to Reagan. “Thank you for doing this.”
“It means a lot to you. I understand that.” She buckled her seat belt and looked at him. She didn’t exactly smile, but the gentleness in her eyes was something he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Her tone suggested that she felt indifferent about the benefits of the pending talk, but Luke refused to let that discourage him. At least she didn’t sound hurt or angry, something that had marked nearly all their conversations since Christmas.
Luke opened the console between the two front seats and pulled out a Chris Tomlin CD he had burned for the ten-minute drive ahead. He slipped the disc into the stereo and turned the music up just loud enough so the words could fill his soul. “Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord. . . . We will wait upon the Lord. . . .”
The truth in the message magnified the hope he felt for the coming hours, and he sang along as he drove. At some parts, it was hard to keep his hands on the steering wheel when all he wanted to do was reach them high to heaven, to the God who could still turn his terrible mistakes into a triumph. If only Reagan would forgive him.
Praise music was a funny thing. After failing as a husband and a Christian, Luke had felt like a h
ypocrite listening to music like this. But now because of something Ashley told him, he understood differently. Music like this was balm to the soul, a reminder of a perfect God, especially in times of imperfection. So Luke had learned to let the music help him focus not on his own inabilities but on the Lord’s great capabilities.
Reagan shifted in her seat so she could face him. “Where are we going?”
“To the university.” He didn’t want to tell her exactly where they were headed. “I have a spot in mind.”
She studied him for a moment. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“Yes.” The flicker of hope fanned into a bright flame. Luke reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have no idea how much.”
Two more songs played out before they reached the parking lot, the one that sat adjacent to the apartment building where Reagan had lived when the two of them started dating. Most kids had gone home for the summer or had things to do on Saturdays, so there were only a few other cars in the lot.
Reagan rolled down her window and stared out at the apartment complex. Then she turned to Luke. She looked puzzled. “This is where you want to talk?”
“Here. Where it all began.” Luke had so much to say that for a few seconds he hesitated, not sure where to begin. But then he forced himself to start with the reason he’d brought her here. “I wanted to find a place that would help us remember the reasons we fell in love. I thought about Lake Monroe and the softball fields on campus, and I thought about the stadium or the creek behind my parents’ house.”
Her eyes held a light that hadn’t been there before.
“All those places had a better atmosphere, but I thought if we were here, it would help me remember not only how much I loved you back then—” his voice was thick as his eyes met hers—“but how much I let you down.”
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