Firstborn

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Oh, baby. Of course I knew. Every girl wants a daddy who’ll treat her like a little princess. If he’d lived, Felix would have done exactly that. You would’ve been spoiled rotten, no doubt about it. He loved you so much.” There was a tiny catch in her voice. “You never saw a man as happy as he was the day we got you. When you were two, you used to run to the door when he’d get home from work, your chubby little legs going as fast as they could. You’d throw yourself at him, and he’d love all over you, hugging and kissing and tickling and laughing.”

  Kirsten wished she could remember it.

  “But I’m glad you’ve found someone to… to fill his empty shoes. I hope with all my heart that this Dallas Hurst will love you and cherish you the way your… the way Felix did.”

  Kirsten could tell her mother was fixing to have a good cry. “Mom—”

  “Honey, I’ve gotta run.” Sniff. “Always lots to do on a Saturday.” Sniff. “You call again soon, okay?”

  “I will. I promise. Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye-bye.”

  After hanging up, Kirsten lay on the sofa, covered her eyes with her right forearm, and imagined herself as a toddler, throwing herself into Dallas’s welcoming embrace.

  Harvest Fellowship had a small prayer chapel at the back of the building that was open twenty-four hours a day. It was simply furnished—two short pews; a prayer altar; a plain wooden cross before a round stained-glass window, track lighting turned low.

  Steven sat in the front pew, Bible open on his lap.

  Sometime in the night, when he lay sleepless on that lumpy motel mattress staring at the ceiling, he’d begun to wonder why he’d never been truly tested in his Christian walk. He wondered what that said about him and his faith. Finally, he’d opened his Bible and began looking for answers.

  He recalled different passages now:

  “He will sit and judge like a refiner of silver, watching closely as the dross is burned away.”

  “These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold.”

  “For when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything.”

  “I proved weak in character,” Steven whispered. “I wasn’t ready for anything. I failed the test. I failed my family.” His chest ached. “I failed You, Lord. Forgive me.”

  “If we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from every wrong.”

  It was amazingly easy to get God’s forgiveness, Steven thought. All he needed to do was confess and repent, and he’d be forgiven and cleansed. God’s grace and mercy were boundless. He would set Steven’s sins as far from him as the east is from the west.

  I guess that’s the problem. How easy it is, how great is Your mercy.

  He hadn’t understood what grace meant. Not really. If he had, he wouldn’t have taken it for granted. He wouldn’t have been such a jerk, sitting on his high horse and judging those around him. Judging Erika especially.

  She’s right. I have been self-righteous. Father, forgive me.

  He knew that God’s forgiveness was his the moment he asked, but it would be much harder to gain forgiveness from those here on earth whom he’d hurt with his words and his actions.

  How do I begin? How do I win their forgiveness and earn hack their trust?

  He thought of Kirsten, thought of the way he’d reacted to her from the first moment he’d learned of her. He’d hated her. There, that was the truth. He’d hated her for living, even more so when he’d seen how much she looked like Erika and Dallas.

  But Kirsten was loved by God. Her life had value to the Lord. God had formed her in Erika’s womb. How had Steven dared to despise her when God loved her? Wasn’t his wishing she’d never been born the same as wishing her aborted?

  O Father, forgive me. I didn’t understand.

  He heard the soft squeak of the chapel door opening. He hoped it wasn’t someone he knew. Most of all he hoped it wasn’t Pastor Tischler or Pastor Nick. He wasn’t ready to talk. Not while he was trying to wrap his understanding around it all.

  He heard entering footsteps, then a pause, then the footsteps again. He supposed he’d have to look up to see who was there.

  “Steve.”

  He turned toward the aisle, his gaze colliding with Dallas’s.

  “Sorry to intrude,” his friend said. “If you want—” he jerked his head toward the door— “I can leave.”

  Steven wanted to reply in the affirmative. Then he remembered the prayer he’d lifted moments before: How do I begin? It seemed God’s answer had come quickly. “No,” he said. “You don’t need to leave.” He slid to his right on the pew. “Go ahead and sit down.”

  Dallas sat.

  Both men turned their eyes toward the cross and waited, the silence of the chapel closing around them. Dust particles drifted through the air, colored by the light filtering through the stained-glass window.

  After a long while, Steven said, “I never thought of myself as a jealous man, but I’ve discovered I am. I thought of Erika as mine, as my very own possession. But she isn’t mine. She’s God’s, and she has a right to make mistakes, just like anybody else.” He glanced toward Dallas. “And so do you.”

  Dallas rubbed a hand over his face before saying, “I’ve made plenty of them.”

  Steven thought he looked defeated. That wasn’t normal. His friend usually wore an air of cocky self-confidence.

  “Are you going home now?” Dallas asked.

  “I don’t know.” Steven turned once again toward the cross, feeling the shame for what he’d done, what he’d put his family through. “I don’t know if Erika or Ethan will want me to.”

  “They will. They do.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  More silence. More reflection.

  Again it was Steven who broke the stillness. “I never even rejoiced over your salvation. I prayed for it for years, and then I wasn’t glad when it happened because of my jealousy and anger.” O God, how did I sink so low? “I’m sorry, Dallas. I’m real sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Pride, Steven believed, was at the root of all sin, and pride was a hard thing to swallow. “Will you forgive me for the things I’ve said and done the last few weeks?”

  Dallas seemed to understand the importance of the moment. He didn’t reply quickly or in an easy, offhanded manner. He met Steven’s gaze with a serious one of his own, and only after a long while did he answer. “I forgive you, Steve. You’re more than my best friend. You’re my brother in Christ.”

  As they embraced, Steven knew this would be the easiest of the reconciliations. Nonetheless, he was glad to have it behind him.

  When they broke apart, Steven asked, “So how’d you know to find me here?”

  “I didn’t know. I… I needed a place to pray.” He swallowed hard, then said, “Paula’s been having an affair. I found out this morning. I should have figured it out before this, but I guess I had blinders on.”

  “Oh, man.”

  Dallas released a humorless laugh. “Oh, man.”

  Here we are. Both of us with marriages on the rocks.

  As if reading Steven’s thoughts, Dallas said, “The difference between us is, your wife loves you. Paula made it pretty clear before she left the house this morning that any love she once felt for me died long ago.”

  Steven wanted to tell his friend that things would work out, but platitudes wouldn’t cut it. So he slipped an arm around Dallas’s shoulders, and the two of them sat in silence.

  Thirty-four

  Steven sat on the front stoop, waiting for Erika to return home. He had a key, but he wouldn’t use it. He had no right to use it until she told him he could.

  If she told him he could.

  He was scared. Scared things
wouldn’t work out the way he wanted.

  Erika’s car pulled into the driveway, and Steven rose from the step, waiting, his heart pumping. When she got out, she stared at him, her face an expressionless mask. He couldn’t tell if she was happy or horrified to see him.

  She closed the car door and walked slowly in his direction.

  “Did I come at a bad time?” he asked as she drew near.

  She shook her head.

  “I hoped we could talk.”

  “You look tired, Steven.”

  “I haven’t slept well.” He could have told her she looked tired, too. He didn’t.

  “You cut yourself shaving,” she said, pointing at the nick on his jaw.

  “I was out of practice.” He shrugged, then shook his head before she could ask him what he meant. “Can we talk?”

  With a nod, she unlocked the door and led the way inside.

  Steven would have preferred to hold this discussion in the kitchen, but Erika went into the living room. She sat on the sofa. He took the chair opposite her. Her posture was rigid, her hands folded in her lap. She looked fragile. She’d lost weight. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes.

  I did this to her.

  Something inside him broke under the load of guilt.

  Erika ached at the sight of him, at the distance between them. If only Steven would get out of that chair and come sit beside her. If only he would take her in his arms and hold her the way he used to, the way that had always made her feel cherished and safe.

  But even as she longed for those things, she wondered what she would do if he tried. She wondered if she would let him. There was so much hurt in her heart.

  Do I even still love him?

  How quickly she could have answered that question in the past. But today? Today she felt only emptiness where the love had once been.

  “Why did you come, Steven?” she asked at last.

  “I need to ask for your forgiveness.”

  Forgive him? He’d been gone nearly a week without a word, without so much as a telephone call to tell her where he was staying, and now he wanted her to forgive him. Was that all he had to say?

  “I… ah…” He paused to clear his throat. “I went to see Ethan at work yesterday. Did he tell you?”

  Erika shook her head.

  “He said I needed to get right with God.”

  She could imagine the way Ethan had said it, too. She almost smiled.

  “He was right,” Steven said softly. “That’s what I needed. I was angry at you, so I got angry at God, and then I ran away from Him… and you.”

  A week ago, his simple confession would have been enough for Erika. A week ago, she would have made it easy on him.

  This wasn’t a week ago.

  Steven couldn’t sit still any longer. He felt pierced by Erika’s unwavering, unrelenting gaze. He rose and paced to the window, where he stared out at the lengthy afternoon shadows.

  “You were always so perfect in my eyes,” he said after a while. “That was the problem, I guess. I imagined that you were perfect, and then I expected you to be exactly what I imagined. I expected you to never make a mistake—past, present, or future. I put you up on some fancy pedestal and expected you to stay where no human being can stay for long.” He glanced over his shoulder. “When you fell off, I blamed you rather than myself.”

  She continued to meet his words with silence, and he had no clue whether or not he was getting through.

  You could have told me about Kirsten, he was tempted to say, the impulse to justify his actions springing suddenly back to life. He pushed the urge away as he turned toward her.

  “Last night, God showed me that when I’m discontent with my life, the life He gave me, then I’m arguing with Him. I’m saying He isn’t sufficient, He isn’t enough. I’m saying that what I want is more important or better than what He wants for me.”

  She sat so still, he wondered if she listened or heard.

  “When I walked out of here, I was like the rich young man in the Bible. I didn’t want to give up what I thought was rightfully mine.”

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “A perfect you.”

  She gave her head a slow shake.

  “You were right, Erika. I was self-righteous. I realize it now. I had no concept of God’s grace, of what it really is. I just accepted it as if it were my due instead of a gift.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Are you able to forgive me?”

  She looked at him with that unemotional gaze and whispered, “Am I able?”

  He had the distinct impression she was asking the question of herself rather than echoing him. He held his breath, waiting for the answer.

  Am I able to forgive you? I don’t know. Even if I knew, I’d be afraid to say it. What if we fail each other again? What if the next time we’re with Kirsten or Dallas you remember what I did and you hold it against me? What if you resent having Kirsten as a part of our lives? Because if she’s part of mine, she’s part of yours, like it or not.

  Gently, in the midst of her stormy thoughts, she felt God’s touch upon her heart.

  I’ll guide you, beloved. Trust Me.

  I’ll try, Lord.

  “Erika?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think I can forgive you.”

  He took a step toward her.

  She put out a hand, like a traffic cop, knowing there was more that had to be said. “It isn’t that simple.”

  He stopped, and his shoulders slumped.

  “If you put me on a pedestal, Steven, then I suppose I did the same to you. You were my high school sweetheart, my first and only love. I thought the sun and moon rose and set with you.” She drew a shuddery breath, feeling her way, thinking aloud, facing things she’d never truly faced before. “Perhaps I made idols of you and our marriage, setting you higher than the Lord.” She sighed deeply. “It would be easy to pretend that none of this happened, to pretend we didn’t hurt each other the way we have.”

  “But you didn’t—”

  “Don’t. Don’t say I didn’t hurt you. I did, and we must be free to talk about everything if we’re going to tear down the wall between us.” She stood. “What I’m trying to say is, we can’t simply go back to the way things were, as if none of this happened. We’ll have to work on our marriage and find ways to make it what it should be, what God intended it to be, not what we imagined it was.”

  “That’s what I want, too.”

  “Will you go with me to counseling?”

  He nodded, looking both shaken and hopeful. “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be at church tomorrow?”

  Steven heard the question and understood. She was saying she didn’t want him to come home yet. He was disappointed, but he couldn’t blame her.

  “Yes,” he answered, “I’ll be there.”

  She turned and led the way into the hall. At the front door she gave him the slightest of smiles and said, “Ethan and I will watch for you there.”

  When was the last time he’d held his wife in his arms? When was the last time he’d kissed her mouth or touched her shoulder or held her hand? Weeks. Eons. It seemed forever. He wished he could do it now, but he couldn’t. He had given up that right of his own accord, and now he would have to earn it back.

  He walked past her, opened the front door, and stepped onto the stoop. Then he paused and turned toward her. “Do you think you’ll be able to love me again someday?”

  “Someday?” Now there were tears in her eyes. “Steven, because you’re my husband, I choose to love you today.”

  He nodded. She chose to love him. It wasn’t what he’d wanted her to say. He’d wanted to see the love in her eyes, to hear it in her voice. But a decision to love him was what he’d received.

  For now, that would have to be enough.

  Thirty-five

  Kirsten knew she’d suffered a weak moment. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be standing outside her apartment on a Sunday morning—wearing a dress, for crying out loud!
—waiting for her father to take her to church.

  But how could she deny his invitation, especially after she learned that Paula had left him.

  I’m like a marriage torpedo, she thought with chagrin.

  Still, when she remembered the things Paula had said to her on Friday, she couldn’t help feeling a small thrill of victory, too. She supposed that wasn’t entirely a good way to feel, but there it was.

  Her father’s Lexus rounded the corner and pulled to the curb in front of her.

  Dallas smiled. “Morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “Are you ready?”

  As ready as I’ll ever be, she thought. She opened the car door and got in.

  “Thanks for agreeing to come.”

  “I’m not exactly the churchgoing type, but I don’t suppose it’ll kill me.”

  Her father laughed. “I guarantee it won’t. And up until a couple weeks ago, I thought the same way as you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Dallas put the car in gear, then drove through the complex toward the road. As he pulled into the light Sunday morning traffic, he said, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  “What?”

  “I’d like to introduce you as my daughter.” He glanced at her, then back at the road. “Is that all right with you?”

  Was it all right? All right? It was what she’d hoped for, dreamed of, but never expected to really happen.

  “And if you ever feel you can,” Dallas added, “I’d like you to call me Dad. I know it’s too soon now. You hardly know me. But someday, when you feel you can.”

  Someday, Kirsten thought with joy. Someday.

  Knowing she would see Steven in church made Erika as nervous as a teenager on prom night.

  Lord, don’t allow me to rush ahead of You.

  Wait, the Lord had told her. Trust Him, for He held her in the palm of His hand. Lean on Him, for He was her rock and her fortress.

  Help me to listen and be patient. Help me to see You at work when it seems nothing is happening.