Firstborn

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Anger began to replace worry.

  He shouldn’t have to justify his decisions. Paula was in the wrong. Let her act like a petulant child. He was going to do what he wanted, and she could like it or lump it. Two could play at this game.

  Kirsten sat in a molded, hard plastic chair on her miniature deck, watching as three white ducks—like odd-shaped ghosts—waddled across the lawn toward one of the ponds that dotted the grounds. The fireworks had ended hours ago, and now the night air was cleansed of the smell of sulfur and smoke, replaced by the sweet scent of new-mown grass. A breeze tickled the tree limbs at the corner of her building.

  She took a sip of iced tea, then lifted her gaze toward the starry sky. A sliver of moon rocked on its back directly overhead.

  “I like it here,” she whispered, as if to inform the celestial regions of her sentiments.

  One of her most pleasant discoveries about Boise was how the temperature dropped quickly at nightfall. The low humidity was another plus, especially for a girl with naturally curly hair.

  It’s like I’ve come home.

  That was fanciful thinking. “Home” wasn’t part of a person’s DNA, but it felt that way to Kirsten.

  Her birth parents had grown up here. Idaho was in their blood, emotionally if not physiologically. They’d gone to the same schools and visited the same hangouts. They’d camped in the same mountains and swum in the same lakes and reservoirs. They’d floated the Boise River in inner tubes right into the heart of town, the same way Kirsten had seen others doing this week during her lunch-hour walks.

  She wondered then if Dallas Hurst would come to Erika’s on Sunday. Kirsten knew a little about him—but not enough to satisfy. Not nearly enough.

  She sighed, took another sip of iced tea, then closed her eyes as she rested her head against the back of her chair.

  Life was funny. She’d grown up thinking things would always go along the way they were, and then it all turned out different. She’d never dreamed of leaving Philadelphia, yet here she was, more than two thousand miles away, living in a much nicer apartment for a lot less rent. She’d met her birth mother and half brother. In a few days, she would meet her great-grandmother and her maternal grandfather. And if she got her heart’s desire, she’d meet her biological father, too.

  My dad.

  Kirsten had been half of a family of two. But now…

  Anticipation fluttered through her as she pictured herself in the center of a large gathering. Like one of those reunions people were always having with aunts and uncles and cousins, grandparents, siblings. The image was both wonderful and terrifying.

  She opened her eyes again, gazing upward. The sky seemed endless, an inky canopy sprinkled with glitter.

  If You’re up there…

  It wasn’t a prayer. She couldn’t say she believed or disbelieved in God. Almost everybody was spiritual in one way or another these days. She had one friend who went for past-life regression sessions at least once a month. A girl who’d worked in the next cubicle at her old office had talked about the angels that attended her, listening to her prayers.

  Whatever makes you happy, I guess.

  Then she thought about Erika and Ethan Welby, thought about some of the things they’d said and done in their few times together. They were… different. It was as though they had something she didn’t have, or they knew something she didn’t know.

  Well, if You are up there, I’d like to think this will all play out okay in the end.

  Standing beside the bedroom window, Erika stared up at the starry heavens.

  Father, what do I do now?

  She could hear muted voices and music from the family room television. Steven was out there again, for the fourth night in a row. The first time he hadn’t come to bed all night he’d used the excuse that he’d fallen asleep while watching TV. She’d believed him because she wanted to believe him.

  She couldn’t continue to pretend. The truth was her husband wouldn’t even share the same bed with her anymore.

  It seemed impossible that a marriage she’d thought sound and durable could go this wrong so quickly.

  Marriage isn’t supposed to be easy all the time. I know that, Lord. It isn’t always hearts and flowers. I don’t expect it to be. You never promised us smooth sailing, day in and day out. But Steven’s forgotten that our marriage is supposed to be more than him just gritting his teeth and enduring me. God, how do I reach through the barricade of silence he’s set up?

  There was so much she longed to talk to Steven about. For over eighteen years, her husband had been her sounding board, her best and closest friend. She’d been able to talk to him about anything and everything. Well, everything with one exception. Now she wanted to tell him what she’d seen at the coffee shop on Monday so they could pray about it together. She wanted to tell him about her father’s cold response to her confession. She wanted to pour out her fears and doubts, her hopes and dreams.

  But she couldn’t. Steven had removed himself from her.

  I don’t know what to do. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, the twinkling stars turning murky beyond her tears. Everything seems so dark, Father, and I feel alone.

  Beloved.

  She allowed the tears to fall.

  I will guide you along the unfamiliar way. I will make the darkness bright before you and smooth out the road ahead of you.

  She knew His voice. Knew it as certainly as she knew her own.

  I will indeed do these things.

  God had not forsaken her. In the darkness of this hour, she would cling to that promise for all she was worth.

  Twenty-six

  Dallas was tying his shoelaces the next morning when Paula shuffled into the kitchen, looking rumpled, sleepy, and beguiling. Beguiling enough to forget last night’s argument.

  She gave him a cursory glance on her way to the coffeemaker. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to your senses,” she mumbled.

  Okay, maybe not that beguiling.

  “You’re being selfish, you know.” She turned toward him. “It isn’t like you to think only of yourself.”

  That’s because you expect me to think only of you. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?

  She ran her fingers through her hair, then gave her head an angry shake. “Why can’t you see what you’re doing?” Her voice rose in pitch with each word. “Why?”

  “I’m going for a run,” he said, then left before his temper got the better of him.

  A jogging path carried Dallas around the edge of a private park—empty on this Friday morning—and toward the river. The air was cool, but it held the promise of warmth.

  Paula should be with me on Sunday when I meet Kirsten. She should choose to be with me.

  His anger pounded in his chest the way his feet pounded the ground.

  What if this girl is the only kid I’ll ever have?

  A sobering thought and not the first time it had drifted into his mind. If the doctor discovered that Paula was unable to conceive, it might be that there wouldn’t be anyone to carry on after Dallas, no one to bear his name. Shouldn’t a man have someone to leave everything to when he died?

  Not that he meant to pass on any time soon.

  Will I be ready when the time comes?

  That was an unpleasant question, and the answer was simple: No, he wouldn’t be ready. How could any man be ready for death?

  I’ll bet Steve is.

  “Or at least he thinks he is,” Dallas muttered, his breath coming faster.

  But what if Steven and Erika were right? What if what they believed was more than superstitious nonsense? What if Dallas would be held accountable for all the not-so-nice things he’d done and the sometimes questionable choices he’d made?

  It made a man wonder…

  “Get a grip, Hurst,” he said, louder this time. Then he lengthened his stride, as if trying to outrun his thoughts.

  By the time he arrived home, he felt more like himself. He even felt calm enough to attempt
smoothing things over with Paula, but she’d already left, so he showered, dressed, and headed for work. Halfway to the Hurst complex, he abruptly turned his car off the freeway and drove in another direction, steering along familiar streets and straight into the Welby driveway. He cut the engine and stared at the house.

  What if they’re right? The thought wouldn’t leave him alone.

  Steven and Erika had lived in this home for most of their marriage. They’d never had much in terms of material things. Dallas and Paula, on the other hand, always owned the latest gadgets, newest toys, fanciest cars, biggest house. Yet, as he sat there, the hot July sun beating down on the roof of his Lexus, he realized he envied Steven more than any man he knew. Even now, with this Kirsten matter going on, Dallas had a gut feeling the Welbys would be okay, when all was said and done. He didn’t know if he could say the same for himself.

  At that moment, Erika appeared through the gate to the backyard. She stopped when she saw Dallas, then lifted her hand in a half wave before walking down the drive, Motley at her heels.

  Dallas opened the car door and got out.

  “Steven isn’t here,” she said. “Did he know you were coming?”

  “No. He wasn’t expecting me. I just felt like dropping by.”

  She motioned with her head toward the backyard. “Come on back. I was having coffee on the patio.”

  “If I’m interrupting anything, I—”

  “I’d be glad for the company, Dallas. The house feels a little empty this morning.”

  He followed her.

  When they reached the patio, Erika asked, “How’s Paula?”

  “Mad.”

  “At you?”

  “Me. You. The entire free English-speaking world.” He sank onto a chair.

  Erika sat opposite him. “About Kirsten? Or is there… something else?”

  Dallas raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “Mostly. But I’m beginning to think it goes deeper than that.”

  A frown creased Erika’s forehead, and Dallas wondered what she was thinking.

  After a lengthy silence, he said, “Sometimes I don’t even know who Paula is.”

  “She’s your wife.”

  He grunted.

  “Nobody ever claimed marriage was easy,” Erika said softly, her gaze dropping to the Bible on the table.

  “So how does a couple make it work? How are you and Steven making it work in the middle of this mess?”

  She offered him an uncertain smile. “I’m trusting Jesus to bring us through.”

  “Jesus…” He knew, even as he said the name, that this was why he’d come. “That’s always your answer, isn’t it? Yours and Steve’s.”

  “He’s the only answer I know.”

  “I’ve never understood what you two mean when you say stuff like that,” Dallas said honestly.

  She was quiet for a short while, then said, “I’ll try to explain if you care to listen.”

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  It wasn’t as if Erika and Steven had never shared the gospel message with Dallas before. But this time, something was different. This time, Dallas didn’t just listen to what Erika had to say. This time he heard.

  God loved him.

  Jesus died for him.

  The truth overwhelmed him. It surrounded him, invaded him, transformed him.

  He believed, and suddenly everything had changed.

  Dallas lifted his gaze to stare at Erika. “I feel… it’s like… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

  “You’re a new person inside, new in your spirit.”

  “Yes.” Dallas nodded. “That’s what I feel—like someone new. It’s too simple, isn’t it?”

  She smiled. “First Corinthians 1:18 says—” she quickly flipped open the Bible on the table and read the verse aloud— “‘I know very well how foolish the message of the cross sounds to those who are on the road to destruction. But we who are being saved recognize this message as the very power of God.’”

  Dallas wondered if he should ask Erika to come to his house to talk to Paula. If she explained it all the same way she had to him, then maybe Paula would believe, too.

  “Steven and Ethan will be thrilled when they hear what happened today.”

  “You’ve all been praying for this for a long time.” It wasn’t a question. Dallas knew it was true.

  “A long time.”

  He stood. “I’d better go.” He took a step back from the table, then asked, “What time’s church on Sunday, and how do I get there?”

  The instant Erika saw Steven’s car pulling into the driveway, she rushed outside.

  “You’ll never guess what happened,” she said before he was out of the car. “Dallas came over. He… Steven, he accepted Christ.”

  Her husband’s eyes widened. “He what?”

  “It’s true.” She nodded. “He did. About six hours ago. We were in the backyard and he let me tell him about the Lord, and then we prayed together and he asked Jesus into his heart.”

  Steven turned away, grabbing a duffel bag off the backseat, then closing the car door. When he turned again, he said, “Are you sure he wasn’t doing it to pacify you?”

  This wasn’t the reaction she’d imagined. “Of course, I m sure.

  “How long was he here?”

  “I… I didn’t pay any attention. It seemed like no time at all.”

  A shadow passed across her husband’s face. "Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  She drew back, stung by the rancor in his words.

  “I need something to eat,” Steven said and started toward the house.

  She wanted to make him stop, wanted to make him talk to her, to tell her what he was thinking, what he was feeling. But she didn’t know how to make him do anything. She didn’t know what to say to him. She used to know. She used to be able to read his thoughts, to know what the next words out of his mouth would be.

  But no longer.

  Oh, Steven, what’s happened to us?

  Heavyhearted, Erika followed him inside.

  It was after midnight.

  Steven reclined in his easy chair, the television flickering at him from the opposite wall, the volume turned low. So low he couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t listening anyway.

  Erika had led Dallas to Christ. The news should have caused rejoicing. They were celebrating in heaven. But not here. Not in this room.

  Enmity burned in Steven’s heart the way bile burned a person’s throat, hot and sour. He resented Dallas, and no amount of prayer could change his feelings.

  What prayer?

  No, he hadn’t prayed. He hadn’t opened his Bible in days either. When he was with other believers, he put on a practiced Christian facade and mouthed all the right words, while on the inside, the worms of jealousy and hatred ate at his soul.

  Steven knew he’d slipped away from the Lord, knew he was slipping still, knew he was the one who could change it if he wanted. But he didn’t take that first step. Couldn’t or wouldn’t made no difference. He simply didn’t.

  “You’ll never guess what happened. Dallas came over. He… Steven, he accepted Christ.”

  He ground his teeth at the memory of Erika’s words. He didn’t believe his friend’s spiritual rebirth was real, no matter what Erika said. Deep down—in that small, secret corner of his heart—he didn’t think Dallas was worthy of God’s forgiveness. Not yet. Steven wanted him to suffer first.

  Everything always came easy to Dallas. Everything. He’d played the bachelor for years, escorting a parade of beautiful women to parties and political functions. He’d built a successful business and made a small fortune with what seemed very little effort. He’d lived a charmed life, no doubt about it.

  But Dallas also had betrayed Steven as cruelly as any man could betray another, and now he was going to be forgiven by God for his sins. As easy as that.

  It wasn’t just, and Steven wanted justice.

  Or maybe what he wanted was
revenge.

  “Dad? You still up?”

  Steven glanced toward the hall entrance where Ethan now stood. “How was the movie?” he asked.

  “Okay. Cammi liked it more than I did.” Ethan walked into the family room and sat on the couch, fixing his eyes on his father, a frown pinching his brow.

  Steven turned his gaze toward the TV. “You probably should get to bed. You work the morning shift, don’t you?”

  “What’s going on between you and Mom?”

  “Nothing that you need to worry about.”

  “I’m not blind, Dad.”

  The television continued to flicker, and Steven continued to stare at it, unseeing.

  “I don’t think you’re being fair to Mom.”

  The words were spoken softly, solemnly, but they slid between Steven’s defenses like a sharp knife between his ribs, piercing him, shaming him.

  “She needs you.”

  Steven rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t talk about this now.”

  “Don’t you think you should—”

  “I don’t need to be lectured by my son,” Steven snapped, looking at Ethan again. “You don’t understand everything, so just let it alone.”

  Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I understand plenty.” He stood. “What about doing the right thing? What about loving somebody even when it isn’t easy to love them?”

  “Ethan,” he warned.

  “It’s time to step up to the plate, Dad.” With those words, he left the room.

  Steven remained stubbornly in his chair, only the flickering set and his anger for company.

  Twenty-seven

  The congregation stood as the worship team played one of Erika’s favorite praise songs. Around her, voices and arms were raised as others declared to the Lord, “You are in control.”

  Erika bowed her head and closed her eyes. It doesn’t feel like You’re in control, God. I need to hear Your voice. I need to hear Your promises again.

  Steven hadn’t come to church today. When Erika and Ethan left the house, Steven was still sitting in the family-room easy chair, the same place he’d spent every night for the past week.