His lips formed a straight, angry line and all trace of sadness and compassion vanished from his face. He brought the palm of his hand down hard on the countertop.
There was a beat. “Hey . . . did something break in there?” Nicole yelled her concern from the next room.
Abby forced her voice to sound cheerful, normal. “No, dear. Your father dropped a cup. Everything’s fine.”
She shot an accusatory look at John and he narrowed his eyes.
“Believe what you want, Abby. I’ve told you the truth. I don’t care how you want to handle this, but we need to make a plan.” He paused and the tension left his face. “Our decision to divorce isn’t about Charlene any more than it is your e-mail buddy, Stan. Things have been falling apart between us for years.” Some of the warmth returned to his eyes. “Let’s not go out fighting like this, hating each other.”
New tears filled her eyes, and she crossed her arms tightly, gazing once more at the floor. He was right, and she hated him for it. Stan was her editor and friend, nothing more. But her marriage to John had been dead long before Charlene entered the picture. How in the world had they managed to keep everyone fooled for so long? Even the kids? Habit, Abby guessed. A lifetime of loving for all the right reasons had become a pattern of going through the motions. Nights of laughter and deep conversation had given way to silent isolation, hours of meaningless television, and using old magazines to pass the time and fill the emptiness.
And now they were left with this.
She nodded, wiping at a tear before it could slide down her face.
John sighed. “I’ll stay away from Charlene as much as possible. I mean, I work with her and nothing can change that fact. But I’ll do my best.” John reached out and gently lifted Abby’s chin, and she felt even the small muscles along her spine go tense. He never touched her that way anymore. Now that they’d agreed it was over, she preferred his angry indifference to this . . . this reminder of all they’d once been.
“Can you do it, Abby? For six months?”
She held her breath, searching for another way and knowing there was none. This was Nicole’s season, her time of becoming. Abby would do nothing to mar it, even if the pretending killed her. She turned her head slightly and John took the hint, allowing his hand to drop to his side. But she maintained eye contact. “We’ll be busy, I guess. With wedding plans and all.”
John nodded slightly. “Right. The weeks’ll fly by and then later on—when they’re back from their honeymoon—we can go on with our plans.”
Abby considered the notion and knew it was the only way. Her thoughts landed on Charlene and her heart skipped a beat in response. “Don’t make a mockery of me, John.” For the first time that morning there was fear and vulnerability in her voice.
Again John brought his hand to her face and brushed a lock of hair back from her eyes. “I respect you, Abby. You have my word.”
She wanted to push away his fingers, his kindness, shout at him that it was too late for that, but right then she needed his touch more than she understood. She shifted slightly, and he removed his hand once more. “So it’ll be our secret, right? We tell no one?”
“Right.”
She raised her eyes and studied the silk plants that lined the top of her cupboards. “I guess it won’t matter, anyway. The next six months won’t be about us; they’ll be about Nicole and Matt.”
“That’s right.” His hesitation drew her eyes back to his. “Besides . . . we’re already basically divorced. We go our separate ways, spend time with different groups of friends, and sleep in separate rooms. The only thing we’ll be waiting on is telling the kids.”
Abby blinked. John’s description of their lives sounded as appealing as cold oatmeal, and she willed away the wetness that returned to her eyes. It was true, wasn’t it? They were separate people living separate lives. “Let’s try to get through it without a lot of fighting, okay?”
“I’m all for that . . .” John chuckled lightly, and immediately Abby’s ire ignited. What did he think? She caused all the fights? Before she could come back with a biting response, she stopped herself. Deep breath, Abby. If they weren’t going to fight, then it had to start now. With her.
Abby thought of something. If he was conceding that things were separate, that meant he couldn’t comment on the fact that they weren’t sleeping together, weren’t physically intimate. Of course, they hadn’t been for six months—ever since the first time she’d caught Charlene in his classroom late one night—but that hadn’t stopped John from making an occasional dig at her. Especially after sessions with their counselors. She leveled her gaze at him thoughtfully. “So for the next six months we’ll be cordial roommates, nothing more. Agreed?”
John lowered his eyebrows, clearly confused by her statement. “Agreed.”
“And none of this, ‘Fine wife you are, sleeping down the hall’ stuff, either. Right?”
A darkness fell over John’s eyes and the intimacy that had been there a moment earlier faded. “Don’t worry, Abby, I don’t want anything from you.”
His statement left a pit in her stomach. With his words sounding again and again in her heart, she excused herself and went to the bathroom where she splashed her eyes with cold water. “Don’t worry, Abby, I don’t want anything from you . . . I don’t want anything from you . . .” Wasn’t that the problem? That neither of them wanted the other anymore? Abby waited until her eyes had cleared and some of the redness in her face had faded. “I don’t want anything from you . . . from you . . . from you . . .”
Abby held back any further tears and stared hard at the mirror. John’s words might hurt, but they were more than appropriate.
Because at this point, she had nothing left to give.
She drew a steadying breath and went to join John in the living room with the kids. None of them seemed to notice anything different and Abby settled back into her chair, fixing her attention on Nicole and casting her an unspoken invitation.
Nicole immediately picked up on the message and joined Abby, taking a spot on the floor at her right side. “Everything okay?”
Oh, honey, if only you knew. “The steam from the kettle melted my makeup. It got in my eyes. I’m fine now.”
Relief washed over Nicole’s face. “That’s good. I was beginning to think you weren’t happy about it. You know, excited for us.”
The boys had quit wrestling and flipped on the television again for the first of two NFL play-off games. In the din of activity and football noise, no one was listening to their conversation and Abby was thankful. She needed time alone with Nicole, needed to let her daughter know from the beginning how excited Abby was about her impending wedding.
She stroked Nicole’s dark blonde hair. “Honey, I’m so happy for you. Matt’s a wonderful young man. Really.”
Nicole smiled at her. “He is wonderful, isn’t he?”
Abby felt another wave of tears and she did nothing to stop them. Tears for Nicole’s happiness were appropriate; tears about the death of her own marriage and the tombstone they would be keeping in the closet for the next six months would be absolutely forbidden. At least in public. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up.” A single tear spilled over onto Abby’s cheek. “My little girl, ready to make a home of her own and get married.”
Nicole’s eyes were suddenly brimming with tears, too, and she reached up and clasped Abby’s hand. “You know what I read today?”
Abby smiled through wet eyes. “What?”
“Jeremiah 29:11 . . . ‘I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to give you hope and a future’ . . . Remember that one?”
The words hit Abby like falling bricks. Remember? Their pastor had recited those very words at their own wedding more than twenty-one years earlier. She swallowed hard. How do I handle this, God? What do I tell her?
The truth will set you free, daughter . . .
Abby wasn’t sure the response had come from God, but she acted on it anyway. What would it hu
rt? “I remember it well. We read it at our wedding, honey. Did you know that?”
Nicole’s eyes lit up. “No, way . . . really? I thought it was my special verse. That’s amazing.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe we should use it, too.” She started to rise as if she might approach Matt and ask him about the scripture right in the middle of the football game, then she paused and sat down again. “I’ll tell him later. Hey, Mom, I almost forgot. I bought a Christian Bride magazine. Wanna look at it later, after Matt leaves?”
“Sure.”
Pangs of nostalgia stung at Abby’s heart. She remembered going over the details of her wedding with her own mother, planning the reception, searching for the perfect dress . . .
Would she feel this way every day for the next six months? Aching and grieving every time she drifted back through yesterday and revisited the days before she and John had taken this very step? She sighed inwardly. If she could get her perspective right, it wouldn’t be so bad to walk through that time in her life. Sort of like recalling a friend who had died too young. Yes, that’s exactly what their marriage was like. No amount of recall could bring it back, but certainly there would be nothing wrong with remembering the good times.
Sean interrupted her thoughts by muting the sound on the television and staring expectantly first at John, then Abby. “When do we finish the meeting?”
John glanced around the room. Abby wasn’t sure what to say, so she shot him a look that said, Think fast; it isn’t going to get any easier.
There was a momentary deep-seated fear in John’s eyes as he cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. Shrugging lightly, he forced a smile. “Summer plans.” He looked at Abby once more. “Right, honey?”
Abby felt like a character in a poorly written play. “Yep. Summer plans.”
John clapped his hands in a show of closure. “And since Nicole and Matt have given us their news, I guess the summer has enough plans already.”
Sean looked satisfied, and a quick glance around the room told Abby the others believed John, too. “Then can I go to Ben’s? Please?” Sean was on his feet, already heading for the coat closet. “He got the new Play Station for Christmas. You should see the NFL game, Dad.”
Abby couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Okay, go. But be back before dinner.”
“Right . . . and make sure you’re the quarterback,” John yelled after him, winking at Kade who was now stretched out on the sofa grinning. “Reynolds men are always quarterbacks.”
“You got it, Dad!” Sean was gone in a blur of flying scarf ends and a half-fastened coat.
Matt stood up and after another round of congratulations, set off to take care of errands and pressing schoolwork. Abby watched him go, and someplace deep inside her she trembled at the charade she and John were living out, the way the kids were believing them and had been for months. Just like everything’s fine. The whole family was plummeting toward a major disaster, and not one of their children had even the slightest idea what was coming. What would the kids think when they found out? Would they feel deceived? Lied to? She forced the thought from her mind. Whatever price she and John would pay, they wouldn’t have to face it until after the wedding.
John and Kade were lost in the football game as soon as the door closed. Nicole studied them and then giggled at Abby. “Never changes, does it?”
“Nope.” Abby’s mind flashed back to a long-ago celebration—a moment in John’s career for which they had waited years—a time when she and John were madly in love in every way that mattered. John’s arms had been around her and everything had seemed perfectly right with their world. She could hear him, even now: “I couldn’t have done it without you, Abby . . . couldn’t have done it without you . . .”
Stop! The silent, harsh command forced the memory to disappear. It was one thing to remember how she and John had met, how they’d fallen in love and decided to marry. It was another to be hit by more recent memories, glimpses of their happy days together, back when they were halfway to forever.
Nicole squeezed her hand. “Did you hear me?”
Abby sat up. “Sorry, honey. I was drifting.”
“I said, let’s go check out my magazine.”
Nicole led the way, and Abby looked to see if John would notice their departure. She should have known better. His eyes were fixed on the screen and the play about to unfold.
Up in her room, Nicole tossed the magazine on her bed, and Abby sprawled out next to her.
“I think I know what I want in a dress, but I’m not sure about the neckline, you know?”
Abby smoothed her forefinger over the images of fresh young brides in their assorted wedding gowns. “Lots to choose from.”
Nicole sat up and crossed her legs, her eyes full of wonder. “Isn’t it amazing, Mom? How faithful God is? Bringing Matt like this as an answer to all those years of prayers.”
Abby pulled herself up and brought her knees close to her chin. Where was Nicole going with this? There was only one right response, of course. “He’s always faithful.”
Indeed, God had answered Abby’s prayer for Nicole to find a godly husband.
But for the life of her, as she and Nicole poured over pictures of wedding gowns, there was something Abby couldn’t understand. If God could answer her prayers for Nicole, why hadn’t He answered her prayers for herself?
Seven
JOHN HAD NO IDEA HOW HE WAS GOING TO pull off pretending for the next six months that he and Abby were happily married, but he did know one thing: if the problem continued to consume him, he would be useless in the classroom.
He planted his elbows on the cluttered surface of his desk in the back of the weightroom and closed his eyes. He had to handle four health classes and two sessions of weight training, do grades and tests for 152 students, and get ready for spring league coming up in ten weeks. All while trying to avoid Charlene Denton. Someone dropped a weight in the next room, and John looked up. As he did his eyes fell on his family’s Christmas photo from . . . hmm . . . what year? He looked at it more closely. Sean was two, so it had to be eight years ago.
Lord, how did it all get so crazy?
It had been so long since he’d talked to God that the silent question felt foreign, and he was struck by a pang of guilt. Maybe it was his fault. He was supposed to be the spiritual leader, after all. Maybe things would be different if only he’d— There was a knock at the door and John turned. Charlene stood there.
Ah, Charlene . . . What am I going to do with you? He kept the question to himself and smiled big as he reached for the door and opened it. “Hey, what’s up?”
She swept into the room and took a seat opposite him. John studied her for a moment, enjoying the easy way they had with each other. It wasn’t so much that she was beautiful, really . . . There was just something about her—a Sandra Bullock look maybe—that made him want to spend time with her, to protect her from the dangers in life.
“Wanna get coffee?” Her eyes twinkled and John wondered, as he had a hundred times before, whether down the road a year or two things might work out for the two of them. She was willing; she’d told him as much. But he wasn’t sure. He’d already made a mess of one marriage.
He resisted the urge to take her hand in his. “Not today.” How was he going to say this? “Listen, Char, I have something to tell you.”
Her expression changed, and John could see fear in her eyes not far from the surface. “Okay.”
“It’s about Abby and me.”
Charlene shifted in the chair. “I’m listening.”
“We’re postponing the divorce.” John watched as she sat straighter in her seat, more formal, further back from him, as though the words had sent a knife straight through her heart. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “It wasn’t anything we planned. Nicole and Matt announced their engagement Saturday. Right before we were going to tell them.”
Charlene moved her head up and down in a subtle motion, and John knew she was
trying to be strong. “Okay, so for a few weeks or what?”
A few weeks? Didn’t she know how hard this was going to be on his kids, his family? He uttered a disbelieving laugh. “No, until the wedding is behind us. Six months at least.”
She held tightly to the arms of the chair. “And you want me to wait around six months?”
Her voice wasn’t angry, but it was close. John closed his eyes and wished himself a thousand miles away—there had to be a place where life was quiet and uncomplicated . . . maybe a football field, where the main thing that mattered was the way his boys played the game. When he opened his eyes, she was waiting. “What you do is your choice. I haven’t promised you anything.”
“I matter more to you than she does. I know I do.” Charlene sounded like a petulant child, and John felt a ripple of doubt. This was a side of her John had never seen before. “Ever since Rod left last year, you’ve always been there for me.” Her voice showed she was back in control. “You know how I feel about you, John.”
Yes, he did. She was in love with him. If he hadn’t been sure before, her reaction now removed any doubt. “I only wanted your friendship, Charlene. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think there was more between us.”
This time she was the one who laughed. “Who are you kidding? That was you I kissed that night after practice, right? Don’t tell me all you wanted was friendship then.”
There it was again. As though someone else had entered the room wearing Charlene’s skin. He released a troubled breath. “I don’t know what I want anymore, but I know this. I can’t face a future with you—or with anyone—until my past is behind me.”
The scowl on her face faded, as though the fact that he’d admitted a possible future with her somehow calmed her concerns. “You’re right. We both need time to think about things.” She grinned at him and tapped his foot playfully with hers. “Besides, it’s not like we won’t be together.”
John felt his neck muscles relax. This was the Charlene he was familiar with, the one who was his buddy, his fun friend. The one who reminded him of the way Abby used to be. John leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He hoped Charlene would still be smiling when she heard what he had to say.
A Time to Dance Page 6