A Kingsbury Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  The only sound in the room was that of Maggie crying as she forced herself to remember the rest of the conversation. How could she have hung on to a memory that had never existed? How fair had that been?

  The questions weighed on her heart as she found her voice. “He told me he thought God had a girl for him, someone like him … someone who loved the Lord and had s-s-saved herself the way he had. H-H-e told me he thought she had hair like mine, and a smile like mine, and a laugh like … ”

  The memory of her husband and all he’d been back then lay in front of her, like an innocent child about to receive a punishment for something he hadn’t done. Ben hadn’t demanded perfection from her after all. He had merely been teasing, baring his heart and telling her in his own, shy way that he could picture the two of them marrying one day. Somehow … sometime, she had twisted the truth, convincing herself Ben had started the conversation, that he’d stated his expectations up front: He’d only marry a girl who was as pure and wholesome as he was.

  “I convinced myself it was something he demanded, a requirement.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Trembling from her fingers to her knees, Maggie stared at Dr. Camas, desperate for answers. “Why did I do that?”

  The doctor considered her for a long moment. “You tell me.”

  The answer danced on the tip of her tongue, but it was so bitter she hated to speak it. Her voice grew quiet, and she felt regret like a millstone around her neck. “So I wouldn’t have to … ” She drew two quick breaths and stifled another wave of sobs. “So I’d have someone to blame … someone whose fault it was that I gave my baby away.” Maggie covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  She had been running from the truth all this time, refusing her part in what happened. By blaming Ben every time she thought of her baby, her little girl growing up somewhere else, with some other mother, she had eventually …

  She looked up, her sight blurred from the tears. “I taught myself to hate him, didn’t I?”

  “What do you think?” Dr. Camas’s tone and gaze were filled with compassion.

  “Yes. I did. So I wouldn’t have to blame myself.”

  “Maggie, depression often comes from lies we tell ourselves. When we’re willing to lie to those we love—the way you did when you married Ben—then it’s quite normal to lie to ourselves, as well. That’s at least part of why you’re here, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Maggie nodded, feeling as though she were falling into a dark hole. What have I done, God? Help me, please … help me find a way back out.

  “How do you feel, Maggie?” The doctor wasn’t pushing, but his question stabbed at her all the same. How was she feeling? Like she was suffocating under the weight of her bad decisions. Like there would never again be hope for her. Like she was the worst mother, the worst wife in the world …

  “Like I made a lot of mistakes.”

  “And … ”

  Suddenly it dawned on her. All she’d ever wanted from God was deep, genuine joy. The kind that would remind her in the darkest days how close and real God was, and that somehow hope was at hand. But every bit of joy she’d ever felt had vanished that terrible day, the morning she gave her daughter up for adoption. She had always thought it was because she’d been forced into it. Backed into an emotional corner.

  Now she knew different.

  Not only had she walked away from her child, she’d walked away from God as well. Hadn’t she heard His quietly urging voice that day telling her not to let go, to hold tight to her tiny daughter whatever the cost? It had taken every ounce of strength to fight against the screaming inside her soul, her desperate longing to stop the social worker from taking her baby. Back then she’d thought she was fighting against herself, her selfish desires. But the situation was clearer now. She’d gone against the prompting of the Holy Spirit, choosing to take matters into her own hands—and every day since then she’d blamed Ben for having expected perfection from her.

  But no one had forced her to give her baby up for adoption or to lie about it all these years. The lies were hers and hers alone.

  And never, not once since then, had she ever repented. Maggie fought back the sobs that caught in her throat.

  I’m here, daughter, turn to Me …

  Slowly, finally—after all this time, all her pain, the quiet prodding of the Holy Spirit felt like balm to her soul. She exhaled and forced herself to remain steady, for her entire being ached to do the thing God had always wanted of her.

  Okay, Lord, I will … I’ll repent. She made the promise silently, but she meant it as much as if she’d broadcast it throughout the hospital.

  “What’re you feeling, Maggie?” Dr. Camas waited patiently.

  She drew a deep breath and allowed herself to be comforted by the kindness in his eyes. Where do I start, Lord? “I need to make things right with a lot of people.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, Ben most of all.” How cold she’d been to him, how unbending and hardhearted. Could he ever forgive her for all she’d done? Even if he could, would he still want her?

  The questions were staggering; Maggie would have to deal with most of them later.

  “Are you ready to talk about it in group?”

  Maggie nodded. “In some ways I’ve never felt worse than I feel right now.” She wrung her hands together and blinked back fresh tears. “But I also feel hope; it doesn’t make sense.”

  A warm smile filled the doctor’s face. “God promises us joy in the morning, Maggie, and I believe for you the darkness is beginning to lift.” He paused. “It’s all about being honest. First, with God; second, with ourselves.”

  The words washed over Maggie, easing the anxiety within her. He was right, and even in the fading darkness it felt wonderful to finally be truthful with the Lord and herself.

  Now it was time to be honest with everyone else. The group, her parents, her daughter. And of course Ben.

  Him more than anyone.

  Early the next morning as she slept, Maggie dreamed of a hospital in Woodland, Ohio, and a beautiful baby girl sleeping in her arms. A nurse entered the room and made an announcement. “Liars can never be suitable mothers.” Then the woman walked up to Maggie’s bed, snatched the baby from her arms, turned, and disappeared through the door.

  Maggie screamed for the nurse to stop. “I won’t lie. I’ll tell the truth, I promise. I love my baby. Please, bring her back. Please!”

  But the nurse was gone, and a strange aching developed and grew stronger until finally it woke Maggie at four o’clock in the morning. Drenched in sweat, tears running down her face, she realized the aching was the emptiness she felt without her baby.

  “Where is she, God?” Maggie whispered the question through her tears. “I only want to know that she’s okay.”

  Is that all?

  The startling question seemed to come from the Lord Himself, and it echoed quietly in her heart.

  Yes, God, that’s all. Even as she thought it, Maggie knew she was lying again. She wanted more. Much more. She wanted her daughter back, wanted a chance to undo what she’d done that day at Woodland Hospital, wanted to hold her daughter close and take her home and raise her the way she’d imagined in those early days of her pregnancy.

  “Why can’t I stop lying, Lord?”

  Repent, My daughter. Now. While your heart is right. My grace is sufficient far you …

  Maggie’s breath caught. She had realized her need to repent, but she’d never actually done it. The day had slipped by, and still she hadn’t met with the Lord, asked His forgiveness. Quietly, reverently, she slipped out of bed and landed on the cold, linoleum hospital floor. There was no time to wait.

  Forgive me, Father. Forgive me …

  She hung her head, pouring her heart out to the Lord, begging His forgiveness and promising to be honest with Him and herself and everyone else as long as she drew breath.

  Then, one at a time, she confessed the lies she’d told—lies to herself, lies to Ben, and
lies to the Lord—until finally she repented of the one she’d just told. And then, just before breakfast, she did something else … something she’d been wanting to do since she checked herself in at Orchards.

  She pulled a small phone book from her purse and turned to the T section. There it was. Laura Thompson. Wrapping her robe tightly around her waist, Maggie carried the book into the hall, toward the community phone, and made the call.

  “Hello?”

  Maggie closed her eyes, squeezing back tears. Help me find the words, Lord. “Laura … this is Maggie Stovall. I should have called you sooner … ”

  “Maggie, dear! I’ve been praying.” The woman’s voice was pure and filled with such love that Maggie almost went to her knees again.

  She’s been praying far me all along hasn’t she, Lord? His love, His provision, overwhelmed her. “If you have a minute, Laura, I have some things to tell you … things I’d like you to pray about … ”

  “I’m listening, honey. Tell me whatever’s on your heart.”

  Maggie poured out the entire story, amazed that there was cleansing in every word she spoke. Laura listened and Maggie could feel her concern and understanding through the phone lines.

  “So that’s why I needed prayer.” Maggie was grateful for the older woman, certain that along with everything else God had done, He’d blessed her with a lifelong friend in Laura Thompson.

  “Well, I finally understand the mask.”

  “The mask?”

  “Yes, dear.” There was no condemnation in Laura’s voice. “The Lord gave me a picture that first day, the day I drew your name. A woman in a mask.”

  Goose bumps rose on Maggie’s arms. “Me?”

  “Yes. And the image of a little girl, too. Your little girl, I’m guessing. When I pray for you, I pray for her, too.”

  “Oh, Laura … I don’t know what to say … ” Maggie closed her eyes briefly. It’s all coming together, Lord. Was the arm of God that far-reaching? His love that persistent? Had He cared so much that He’d put Maggie’s deepest needs in the heart of Laura Thompson? I stand in awe, Father.

  Maggie made plans to talk with Laura again soon. And after she hung up, Maggie was engulfed by a peace so vivid she could almost feel it wiping away what remained of the darkness. The older woman’s words of hope and encouragement rang clear in her mind.

  I’m sorry, Lord … so sorry. I want to be close to You again, clean and right and ready to do Your will.

  Daughter, I have loved you with an everlasting love … I will remember your sins no more.

  “Oh, Lord, you’re so faithful.” Maggie hung her head as the words flooded her heart with peace—and with the beginning of what Maggie knew was joy. Joy of knowing she was a daughter of the King of kings, joy of being saved by His precious blood, joy of being certain that one day she would live with Him in heaven, eternally. Deep, abiding, genuine joy. And once it had taken root in her heart, Maggie knew it would continue growing until the darkness was gone forever.

  Forgiveness, wholeness, restoration … they all were hers. Even if she ached a lifetime for the daughter she would almost certainly never know.

  29

  It was noon, and the commotion at Party Pizza was at a fever pitch. Picnic tables lined the dining room where mothers, preschoolers, and the occasional older child gathered for lunch.

  Ben ordered a large Hawaiian pizza as he took in the scene and tried not to be nervous. Kathy was picking Amanda up at school fifteen minutes before lunch, so the two would be there any moment.

  He’d been thinking about Amanda Joy since the moment he’d learned of her existence. Would she look like Maggie? Would her eyes twinkle when she laughed? What would her personality be like? Probably jaded from years in the Social Services system …

  For what had to be the hundredth time in the past twenty hours, he wondered how different all of their lives might have been if only Maggie had been honest.

  Judge not, lest you be judged.… Love covers a multitude of sins.

  The sting of conviction came, as it always did lately, every time he tried to blame Maggie for what happened. He planted his forearms on the table and exhaled slowly The Lord was right. Back then he would never have understood. He would have written Maggie off, broken up with her without looking back. There would have been no getting together again, no engagement, no marriage.

  But even if he and Maggie had parted ways, at least one little girl might have been spared a beating, one child might have known a lifetime of love rather than sorrow.

  Ben pushed the thoughts from his head. It wasn’t my fault she got together with John McFadden.

  Love covers a multitude of sins …

  A sigh escaped him, and Ben massaged his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. That same Scripture had haunted him for days now. Weeks, even. Ever since Maggie left, it seemed. What does it mean, Lord? I loved Maggie; I treated her right.

  Silence.

  Fine. Leave me wondering. But one of these days, Lord, I’m going to need You to make it clear to me.

  A blur of motion near the front door caught his eye, and he turned and stared. It was Kathy. And clutching her hand tightly was a beautiful, wide-eyed, blond-haired child, whose face …

  Ben sucked in his breath. Oh, man … she looks just like Maggie.

  He watched them weave their way closer until they were standing before him. If the girl had come by herself and stood among a throng of children, Ben would have recognized her without any trouble. He’d have known her anywhere. The shape of her eyes, the way she held herself—stiffly, wanting him to think she was tough even though her eyes showed her fear—she was the image of her mother.

  Maggie, if you could only see her. Ben had an overwhelming desire to take the child in his arms and soothe away a lifetime of pain and hurt and abandonment. Instead he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Ben.”

  Amanda nodded curtly and gave him a polite smile. “I’m Amanda.” The child still held tightly to the hand of her social worker and after several seconds, Ben pulled his back. It hit him then. Amanda loved this woman, this social worker. In a world of uncertainty, Kathy Garrett had always been there for Maggie’s little girl. Now the child would see him as the intruder, the man who wanted to take her away, maybe forever.

  What am I doing. Lord? She’s got a life already. Give me wisdom, please; the child’s been hurt enough.

  Kathy had been watching the brief exchange between Ben and Amanda, and now she opened her purse. “Well, you two sit here and get acquainted. I’m going to order pizzas and—”

  “No, sit down.” Ben motioned to her. “I ordered a few minutes ago. It’ll be up any minute.”

  Amanda and Kathy took their seats beside each other, across from Ben. He noticed how the girl snuggled close to Kathy, how her small eyes had softened just a bit. She looked at Ben with a gaze that didn’t waver. “I like pizza.”

  He was taken aback at how her comment made him feel. His heart soared at the small concession—it seemed a white flag of sorts, her way of saying she was going to try to like him. He smiled at her. “Me too.”

  Kathy slipped an arm around Amanda’s shoulders and squeezed once. “Listen, I have to use the ladies’ room.”

  “Me too! I—”

  “Amanda … ” Kathy’s tone was part warning, part reminder. Ben wondered if the two had talked about the child needing time alone with him.

  Amanda’s face fell and she nodded a slight smile in Kathy’s direction. “Okay. I’ll go later.”

  Great. Kathy’s leaving. What am I supposed to say? What do seven-year-old girls like to talk about? He studied her face, and the image of Maggie was so vivid he had to blink to focus his thoughts. “So, tell me about school.”

  “It’s fine.” Amanda’s gaze followed Kathy until she was out of sight. Then she turned to him, her eyes veiled in uncertainty.

  Off to a good start … Fine. If she wasn’t in the mood to talk, he’d make up for both of them. And maybe, just maybe … �
�Okay, so tell me about the class pet. I mean, everyone in second grade has a class pet, right?” Before Amanda could answer, Ben cocked his head. “Let’s see, I think our class had a monkey when I was in school. No, wait. That was the teacher. She just looked like a monkey … ”

  Amanda giggled and a twinkle—Maggie’s twinkle—brought a spark of life to her eyes. “We have a goldfish.”

  “A goldfish?” Ben’s voice was filled with mock indignation, and Amanda giggled again. “That’s not the right kind of pet for second grade. You need something like a muskrat or a house of rabbits or a giant python. Something the boys can let out of the cage to scare the class half to death, isn’t that right?”

  “We have a lizard, too, named Frank.”

  “Frank the lizard? Sounds like a very old lizard to me; does he do tricks? Read newspapers, work the computers, that kind of thing?” Ben made his eyes wide, as though he actually suspected Amanda might say yes. This time she let her head fall back and the laughter that spilled from her throat sounded so like Maggie a lump formed in his throat and a wave of sadness washed over Ben. It was Maggie back in the days when they first met … back when she still had something to laugh at. He worked hard to keep his face from reflecting what he was feeling.

  “Are you always this goofy?” Amanda leaned forward, resting her thin arms on the table and meeting his gaze.

  “What day is it?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Yes. On Wednesdays I’m always this goofy. Now Thursdays are my days to sleep a lot, and on Fridays I’m serious nearly all the time. But on the weekend … well, then I’m actually extra-goofy. Sometimes I tell knock-knock jokes for an hour straight. Especially on Saturday.”