by Dana Corbit
“You have lost me, but because you didn’t tell me.”
His insides clenching, he started toward her, shaking his head. “No. No, Lindsay. You can’t mean that.”
But her eyes flashed anger. “Yes, I mean it. You couldn’t trust me with the truth about my own life. You made me wait until I remembered it and let me relive it like a nightmare.”
“I’m so sorry. I was wrong. But can’t you forgive me?” He reached out to her again, resting his hands on her forearms. “We can get past this.”
“No!” She shook her head and backed out of his reach, losing her balance but regaining it by hitting her hand on the wall. “You shouldn’t have done it.”
And just like that, Joe’s fear of losing Lindsay turned to a fury at least as strong as what she had to be feeling.
“Which thing, Lindsay? Which thing shouldn’t I have done? Saved you first or failed to tell you that awful other part of the story?” The words felt like acid on his tongue, but he spoke them anyway because he needed to hear the answer.
“Both,” she said in a quiet, resigned voice.
“You can’t mean that.” Although he’d guessed she felt that way, he was still shocked by the tragedy of hearing her say it aloud.
“I shouldn’t have become involved with you in the first place.” She shook her head. “You’re the man who chose between Delia and me. Even after I begged you to help her.”
Joe stalked to the window again, wondering whether he should just keep on walking or turn and offer at least a parting battle, though the war was already lost. But hopeless or not, he couldn’t leave until he’d had his say.
“Your parents were wrong to ever let you believe that you weren’t as valuable as your sister.” When he saw her open her mouth to argue with him, he shook his head to stop her. “But do you know what’s worse than that? It’s that you never realized your parents were wrong.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“Don’t I?”
She shook her head, but she wouldn’t look up at him.
“I might not know everything, but these things I do know. You are valuable, a child of God, worthy of being loved.” He paused to watch her, not convinced she was even listening to him, but he had to try.
“You are even worth being the person someone pulls from an accident first,” he told her. “That’s in the tragic circumstance that your rescuer can’t save you both.”
“Are you finished?” she said in a small voice.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think that I am. Because I love you. You weren’t being honest when you said you loved me. You were looking for a reason to sabotage our relationship because you don’t believe you deserve to be loved.”
“That’s not true,” she began, but she stopped when he shook his head.
“You’ll never be able to love anyone until you learn to love yourself.”
With that, he turned away from her and started for the door. He didn’t stop until he was all the way to his truck. He couldn’t allow himself to look back at her, to even think about what he was leaving behind, because that would only make it harder for him to leave. She didn’t want him, and there was nothing he could do to change that.
But no matter what he’d said or neglected to say to her, no matter what he’d thought before this moment, he knew without a doubt that he’d left a part of his heart that he would never find again in that condo with Lindsay. He would survive; he didn’t have any choice. But he would never love again. Some scars ran deeper than the ones on Lindsay’s skin. His sliced straight through his heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Lindsay stared after Joe’s truck as he pulled out from the curb and headed down the street. He didn’t look her way, and his brake lights never flashed to signal second thoughts. She knew he was mad, but she, not he, was justified in being so angry that she couldn’t see straight. So angry that her eyes burned and her chest felt ready to implode.
Crossing the room to sit on the tan sofa by the window, she hugged one of the red decorative pillows to her chest. She continued to stare as though his truck might come roaring down the street again. He wasn’t coming back, and she shouldn’t even want him to.
How could he ever have justified not telling her the whole truth from the night of the accident? His excuse that he’d been worried that she hadn’t been ready to hear it had been just that…an excuse. But it was worse than that. Instead of falling all over her with apologies the way any rational person would have, Joe had turned the whole thing on her, as if it had been her fault that he’d kept the truth from her.
How could he have said all of those things about her parents and especially about her, someone he claimed to love? Though angry, she was hurt even more, as much by the cruel things he’d said as by the fact that he’d told her he loved her while he’d still been hiding part of the truth from her.
Joe was wrong to say she didn’t love herself. He had to be. He was wrong to believe she couldn’t love someone else, too, because she was certain that she really did love him. Even now that a relationship between them would be impossible, her heart still cried out for him.
He was the one person she wanted to tell about the custody crisis over Emma, the only one who would understand how much losing the child would destroy her. Now she would have no one in her corner when she faced her parents in court.
“Are you crying?”
Lindsay turned around with a start, the pillow still braced against her chest. Emma stood in the doorway, her ponytails sticking up every which way after her brief nap. How long had she been standing there? Lindsay had been staring so hard out the window, pretending not to care one way or another whether Joe came back, that she hadn’t noticed Emma coming down the stairs.
“Of course not, honey.” But when Lindsay brushed her hands over her face, they came away damp with tears. When had that happened? She shook her head. “Oh. It’s nothing.”
“Where is Trooper Joe?”
She cleared her throat. “He’s gone now.”
Emma frowned. “When is he coming back?”
“I don’t know.” She reached out her arms so the child would come and sit on her lap. “How did you know he was here?”
“I heard you talking. You were loud.”
Lindsay straightened. At least Emma hadn’t said she’d heard them fighting because that was exactly what they’d been doing. And all of a sudden Lindsay couldn’t swallow for the knot in her throat. She’d just had one of those experiences that parents dread—that their children will overhear them fighting with their spouses. Not only would Joe never be her spouse, but also, Emma would probably never legally be her child. It was too much. How could she bear to lose both of them?
“Can we go riding?”
Even in her sadness, Lindsay couldn’t help smiling at the question. Riding was what Emma had started calling the few times that they’d gone for a run with the jogging stroller since the child didn’t do any of it on foot.
“You know, that sounds like a good idea.”
In that other life before the accident, Lindsay used to go running when she needed to think, and thinking was something she really needed to do today. “You like riding, don’t you?”
“You do, too.”
Lindsay nodded. Running this way was just another one of the changes that had come into their lives since she and Emma had become a family, one that she would miss terribly if the child couldn’t live with her anymore.
After a quick clothes change and a slathering on of sunscreen, Lindsay strapped Emma into the jogging stroller, and they started up her street toward the bike trail. The rhythmic clicks of Lindsay’s running shoes on the pavement calmed her nerves as they always had. As her muscles and lungs burned with exertion, she found her anger against Joe beginning to cool.
She was still mad at him—she wasn’t ready to let go of her righteous indignation just yet—but she could begin to see that Joe had been holding back information because he’d wante
d to protect her from more pain.
She couldn’t help wondering if some of the things he’d said were true. Had she used her anger over his withholding the truth as an excuse to sabotage their relationship? And if she really loved herself, then why had she been willing to settle for living in Delia’s shadow? And why hadn’t she insisted to her parents that there was more to her than what they seemed to see?
Glancing down as she continued her slow and steady progress forward, Lindsay caught sight of Emma sitting awkwardly in the seat, with her back arched and her head tilted so she could stare up at Lindsay through the lenses of her princess sunglasses.
“You’re running fast,” the child observed.
“Getting faster, I guess,” Lindsay answered, surprised she was barely winded.
It couldn’t have been more obvious in the way that Emma looked up at Lindsay that she adored her. Emma didn’t mind that her aunt hadn’t had a clue about what to do with a child when she suddenly found one living with her. None of her mistakes or missteps mattered to the child who simply loved her.
“God don’t make junk,” she whispered, remembering the poster wisdom that Delia used to say to her with a wink after they’d endured another of their parents’ awkward comparisons.
Had she ever believed her sister’s words back then? And then Joe had reminded her today that she was a child of God and worthy of love. Did she really believe she was? The truth accused and convicted her without deliberation.
Earlier, Joe had given her the credit for being his inspiration to repair his relationship with God. But how could she claim to have a strong faith when she’d had so little value for one of God’s creations—herself?
“Aunt Lindsay?”
“I’ll run faster again in a minute, honey, okay?”
“Okay.” She was quiet for a few seconds before saying again in a small voice, “Aunt Lindsay?”
“What, honey?” She looked down this time and found the child watching her too closely.
“Will you be my mommy for always now?”
Suddenly unable to draw in enough oxygen to support her stride, Lindsay slowed to a stop and took several long breaths to calm herself before she could speak. “Emma, your mommy will always be your mommy, even if she’s gone to Heaven, just like your daddy will always be your daddy.”
“Then can you be my Mommy Lindsay?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll always be your Aunt Lindsay. I will always love you.” Her heart ached that she couldn’t even guarantee she would play a significant role in her niece’s life, any more than she could assure Emma that they would be living together a month from now.
It wasn’t enough. Lindsay owed Emma more than just acceptance that she couldn’t win a custody battle against her parents. Still, she was relieved that the little girl accepted what she told her now, even smiling up at her. But just when Lindsay put her hands back on the handlebar and started forward again, Emma asked another question.
“Are you going to marry Trooper Joe? He could be my Daddy Joe.”
“What?”
It was all Lindsay could do not to burst into tears again. As questions bombarded her thoughts, Lindsay continued to push the jogger forward but stared down at the child. Just how much had her niece overheard? But then she remembered that Emma had not only caught her and Joe kissing on the front porch just a day before, but she’d also been a part of that amazing first and last date.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Okay.”
Something about Emma’s easy acceptance of that sad reality didn’t sit well with Lindsay. Especially since Lindsay had resigned herself to it easily enough for the both of them. She’d barely given him a chance to say he was sorry, and she hadn’t accepted his apology.
She’d been no better when she’d found out about her parents’ plan to seek custody. She’d only listened, feeling helpless, when she should have challenged what she’d heard. Didn’t she have any fight in her at all? Not only had she lost the only man she could ever love, now she also would lose the child who had become the center of her life. She felt hopeless and alone.
Lindsay’s heart was heavy as she walked the rest of the way to the condo. After she let Emma in the door and the child ran upstairs to play in her room, Lindsay went to find her purse on the desk area in the kitchen. From the outside zipper compartment, she pulled out that folded and worn piece of paper that had come to mean so much to her.
Taking a seat at the dinette, she unfolded the paper and read those familiar words from an anonymous author.
“Don’t be afraid.
You are a child of God.
You are precious in His eyes.
He counts every hair on your head.
“Don’t be afraid.
God knows your pain.
He sees your doubts and fears.
He wants to heal your broken heart.
“Don’t be afraid.
You are not alone.
God will wipe away your tears.
He’ll cradle you in His loving arms.”
Tears came in a rush before she had time to put a dam in place. Dampness even dotted the paper that Joe had given her to remind her to trust God during some of her darkest days. He couldn’t possibly have known that those same words would comfort her after she’d made the mistake of sending him away.
She read the words she could have recited by heart one more time, and then she folded her hands and bowed her head, closing her eyes.
“Father, I’ve made a mess of everything, as usual,” she prayed. “Please help me to make it right. I’m placing the situation in Your hands. Please guide me if it is Your will. Amen.”
As she lifted her head, Lindsay felt an urge to fight with the kind of intensity she’d never felt before. For Emma. For herself. For a future with Joe. No matter what had happened between them today, she knew if she asked Joe to help her deal with her parents, he would. But not this time. She needed to handle this situation on her own. She didn’t need someone to save her, only to love her.
The prospect of it would have terrified her a few months ago, but she was no longer that person. Just as her leg had become stronger in the healing process, allowing her to nearly give up the cane, she was stronger. Maybe it was because Joe had helped her to see the strength she already possessed, or maybe she’d never had anything worth fighting for before.
“‘Do not go gentle into that good night.’” Lindsay smiled as she got up from the table and started for the stairs. Joe would find it ironic that she’d started quoting poets like Dylan Thomas along with her Bible verses, but just as in that poem Thomas had encouraged his father to “rage” against impending death, she intended to fight for the people who made her life worth living.
After making a quick call, she climbed the stairs and crossed to Emma’s room. The child sat in the middle of the floor, dressing fashion dolls in outrageous outfits.
“Hey, sweetie. How would you like to go and play with Miss Tricia and Mr. Brett’s kids for a little while?”
She didn’t have to ask twice. Emma dumped her fashion dolls unceremoniously in the toy box, grabbed Monkey Man and started putting on her shoes.
Soon they were on their way to Milford for a quick child-care stop, and then Lindsay would continue on, alone, toward a destination she’d needed to reach for a long time. Although she was still waiting for God’s will here, she’d learned that prayer was most effective with a little action. God had a plan, which she hoped He would reveal to her soon, but she knew in her heart that whatever happened now, they all would be safe in His arms.
Lindsay sat on the edge of her father’s worn leather easy chair and faced her parents sitting opposite her on the sofa. She’d expected the words to pour from her with ease, but now she searched madly for a place to begin. Her parents weren’t any help, watching her with their arms crossed over their chests.
“Mom, Dad, I came here because I wanted to talk to you about Emma.”
“I already told you that a friend, Tricia, is watching her.” She paused, trying to pick just the right words. “So here’s what I’ve come to say. I don’t want to you to go to court to seek custody of Emma. She needs to stay with me, always.”
Her mother opened her mouth to interrupt, but her father rested his hand on hers to stop her.
“Let’s give Lindsay her say.”
Lindsay cleared her throat. “I might never measure up to your memory of Delia. Who am I kidding? I never measured up to my sister, even when we were still teenagers. But the fact remains that Delia chose me to care for her daughter.
“I don’t know why she chose me. Maybe she saw some value in me,” she paused, flicking a glance their way before looking down at her hands. “Something my parents couldn’t see. Maybe she thought I would be the kind of guardian—the kind of parent—who would celebrate Emma’s accomplishments no matter what they were and love her for just being her.”
She looked at her own parents steadily. “She was right. I will.”
Finding it too difficult to stay seated, Lindsay stood and started pacing the room filled with photographs and memories, some with bright smiles, some with curling edges. She didn’t use her cane now, but her movements were slow and steady.
“Even if I’m not the best guardian for Emma yet, I intend to become the kind of parent that she deserves.” She turned back to the couple still sitting on the couch, their eyes wide in reaction to her words. “I love you both, but if you take me to court for custody, I will fight you. I have to.”
“Lindsay, you need to think about Emma,” Donna said.
“I am, Mom, and I’m thinking about myself, as well. Raising Emma is going to be the best thing I ever do, and I’m going to do it my way,” she said. “I also plan to keep seeing Joe. I’ll even marry him if he asks. Emma loves him, and he’ll make a good father figure for her.”
Warming to her subject, she returned to her seat. “I’ll probably make other decisions in raising Emma that you won’t agree with, either. I might make her bedtime too late or let her eat junk food on occasion or even put her down to sleep a few hours at my future father-in-law’s house and then take her home—”