“I believe so.”
Laurie looked at Daniel, who sat uncharacteristically silent. “Dad, what are you thinking?”
“I remember when Luther first came to me.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “He found me in the church in the middle of the day, weeks before he sent Pierce to us. He had spoken with an attorney that morning, someone he knew. He said he couldn’t take care of his son alone. I thought that meant Pierce’s mother had already died. Although he looked hard, rough, and labor-worn, I could tell he cared about Pierce. Why else would he have tried to find a new home for him? But from what you are saying, she was still alive and pregnant with another child.”
Kay set plates before them and returned to her seat. “Maybe they were too poor to care for two children, or maybe he expected her to die in childbirth. Did Pierce say anything about his mother’s health? But he was only five. He wouldn’t know, would he?”
“I have no idea,” Laurie said.
Daniel sat back. “Luther came to see me twice. Kay, you met him when we went to the lawyer’s office.”
“When I saw him, I felt so sorry for him. He looked lost and defeated, I guess. Like he no longer had a reason for living.” She turned to Daniel. “I can’t believe Pierce never told us. But this means he has a sibling somewhere. Doesn’t he want to find his brother?”
Laurie reached for her glass. “I don’t know what he wants.” She shook her head. “He hardly talks to me, except about the youth building renovation. He won’t talk about the baby.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Except for the night we put the crib together, we’re not even sharing a bed.”
Daniel rose and left the room.
“Is he angry with me for saying that?”
“No, no. Of course not.” Kay shook her head. “You should eat, you know, even if it’s just a little bit.”
She wiped her eyes again. “I … don’t think I can.”
Daniel returned with an old manila folder and spread its contents on the table. “Here.” He picked up a thick stack of stapled papers. “The adoption was between us and Luther Bridges—no mother listed. We received signed copies days after he sent Pierce to us. We had already completed our part with the lawyer. There was nothing more to it.”
“I thought it odd,” said Kay. “The way Pierce’s father contacted us, handled all the arrangements. Then only called once—I think he used a pay phone—the morning he sent Pierce. He never gave us a number to reach him.”
“What about the lawyer?” asked Laurie. “Maybe he knows something.”
Daniel returned the documents to the folder. “The lawyer died years ago. Luther arranged the adoption. We simply signed and paid the fees.”
Kay looked at Laurie. “He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would just give a child away. I think he was heartbroken.”
“If he thought his wife was going to die and he wouldn’t be able to take care of his older son, a newborn, and his farm, he would be.” Tears slipped down Laurie’s face again. How many had she cried over the last several weeks? Enough for a lifetime. More than when she lost her parents.
“We never asked him about his mother.” Kay walked to the sink. “We thought she had been dead for a long time, too long for Pierce to remember her. He never told us any different. No wonder, even as a teenager he didn’t mind me taking him to school rather than riding the bus. Daniel, how did we miss this?”
“That’s what Luther led us to believe. And he cut off all contact after he sent Pierce.”
Kay ran water, then shut off the faucet and closed her eyes. “I remember that face. A dirty, tear-stained face on a stinky little boy I scooped up into my arms. He was so quiet. Probably shocked by the grief. The shock of losing his mom, watching his dad bury her in the yard … how could a child hold that inside? Then being swept away from all he knew to a new home, a new family?”
“He didn’t know what living with an inside bathroom was like,” Daniel turned in his seat. “Remember, Kay? He used to play with the light switch, turning it on and off two or three times before he went inside and closed the door. That switch is low on the wall and clicks so loudly, we thought he liked being able to reach it or was fascinated by the sound.”
Kay braced her arms on the counter. “He was thankful it wasn’t dark. Oh, Daniel.”
“He didn’t want me to tell you,” Laurie said. “He doesn’t want you to make him talk about it.”
“But we love him,” Kay argued.
“To Pierce, that’s not the issue.” Daniel rose and went to his wife. “It’s not personal against us. He’s just surviving.”
“He’s surviving by pulling away from me,” Laurie said. “I think he’s afraid I will die while having our baby. How could he believe that?” Her shoulders fell as she remembered the night she miscarried. What started out as an evening of celebration ended with Pierce’s strange, mumbled prayer at her bedside. “We’ve waited for years for this miracle. We both wanted this, talked about it, dreamed about it, and planned for it. But maybe a hidden part of him hoped I’d never get pregnant again.”
Daniel barely swallowed his mouthful before he spoke. “Did you really think that because you’re married to a preacher, everything would be easier?”
“Well … ” Yes, she supposed she had.
Daniel stuck one, then a second piece of Juicy Fruit gum into his mouth, popped and smacked. “Honey, he’s a Christian, he’s a minister, and he’s our son. But he’s not perfect. No one is. Just ask Kay.”
“Daniel, be gentle.” Kay sighed. “Laurie, he means well. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”
“Have you suggested he talk to a professional? A counselor?” Daniel asked. “I know someone. But, this has all been revealed in the last what, twenty-four, thirty-six hours? He’s probably still in shock.”
But she did want to tell. Not just for sympathy, for insight. “He barely speaks to me. He won’t talk to you two. I suggested seeing a counselor, but he says he can’t talk to a stranger.”
“Maybe he’s not ready yet. You can’t fast track this for him,” Daniel said.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” She pointed at her belly. “I’m on a deadline here.”
Kay leaned forward. “And a beautiful deadline it is. Let yourself get excited, Laurie. Let yourself feel the joy of this baby, your long-awaited miracle. What Pierce does or doesn’t do, doesn’t change the fact you’re going to be a mom.”
She looked at them both. If there was ever a day she missed her parents, it was today. The way Daddy’s eyes twinkled when he called her baby girl, and wrapped his arms around her like the sweetest blanket. The way Mama listened as if enthralled by every wish, daydream, what if, and heartache Laurie shared. But at least the orphan inside her had Daniel and Kay.
“I never thought I’d be married, and except for you two, facing a pregnancy alone.” She rose. “I’m okay. I mean, I’ll be okay. I should go home.”
Daniel walked her out and watched her leave.
Give him the journal.
The thought hit when she reached the highway. Adrenaline surged through her as she passed the red water tower, Benson’s, and the Downtown Diner. She caught herself pressing the accelerator, looked down, and hit the brakes. Sixty-five in a thirty-five mile an hour zone—she’d never speeded like this in her life!
She adjusted her speed, rolled down her window, and re-settled her hands on the steering wheel. Hot wind slapped her face, snapping her hair, and pushing its way into lungs that had cramped this morning when talking with Pierce about renovations at the youth building. Would he ever again look at her the way he used to?
Give him the journal.
Usually she avoided confrontation. She didn’t like conflict. Compassion had been strengthened by her grief from losing her parents. Having experienced pain herself, she recognized it in others.
But sometimes pain was a good thing. Her sickness, nausea, and vomiting confirmed someone wonderful grew inside of her.
Labor would be the same way. There would be pain, but there would also be a pay-off. Enjoying the second required embracing, or at least enduring, the first.
Oh, yes, she thought, pulling in front of their home. If she wanted her marriage to change for the better, she had to act. With wisdom, with love, with God’s leading, but she had to act.
After all, of the two people in this marriage, she was one of them.
Dear God, please help me.
***
He’d thought his parents would call. And Pierce couldn’t decide if he was happy or unsettled that they hadn’t. What did they think of him now?
You’re damaged.
Would they have adopted him if they’d known how damaged he was? Would Laurie have married him?
He wouldn’t have asked her if he’d known. He wouldn’t have married at all.
She was sitting outside in her car, the headlights shining straight into the dining room where he sat having just finished eating a sandwich. He wanted to go to her, but felt he had nothing to offer.
The headlights went out. She turned off the engine and came inside, passing by the doorway without looking in his direction. He didn’t blame her.
Moments later she approached, placed a notebook and an opened envelope on the table between them.
“Laurie, we need to talk.”
She sat. “Yes, we do.”
“Did you tell my parents?”
She opened her mouth to answer, closed it, and simply nodded.
“Thanks for doing that. I didn’t know what to say.”
“The truth is always a good place to start.” She took a breath, set her chin. “I told them exactly what you told me. And they listened because they love you and care about you. Shutting out people who love you damages you and them.
“See this?” She pulled a card from the envelope and slid it to him. “It’s from Ina Hood.”
The “Congratulations! You’re expecting!” card showed a smiling pregnant woman in profile.
“There’s a check in there for $1000. You know Ina. It’s not enough to her to send the crib. She wants us to start a savings account for our child.”
He held his breath for a moment, exhaled, focused. He reached for her hand and saw the thrill in her eyes when he did.
“Laurie. Look. This is new territory for both of us. And again, I’m sorry I can’t give you …”
You’re broken. You’re damaged.
Confusion etched her face as she crossed her arms on the table. “I … accept your apology?”
He ran a hand across his forehead where sweat beaded like dew. “I grew up watching my father be a minister. I learned some scripture in college, but mostly I learned theology and the logistics end of being a pastor. I had one pastoral counseling class. One. Nothing I learned touched on anything like this.”
You hurt like no one else. You can’t be what she needs.
“So now you understand why I can’t be with you during the birth, right? Why I can’t talk about or get excited about the baby?”
She cocked her head. “What?”
“I’ve always loved how deep your feelings are. Your tender heart, so sensitive to others.”
She answered with a narrowed gaze.
He wanted to get up. To move, to pace. But something held him in the chair.
“If someone came to you and told you the same story—my story—you would understand immediately why they couldn’t handle certain things, couldn’t do certain things.”
“Let me get this straight. You think that because I’m tender-hearted and have soft feelings, I’ll understand how upset and uncomfortable you are about me having our baby.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but she held up a hand. He closed his mouth.
“And since I understand, I’ll accept the fact that you can’t be there for me, won’t be there, actually. We won’t talk about our child, and we won’t enjoy this pregnancy together.” She shoved her chair back, rising as her voice did. “Am I supposed to tell you when I go into labor, Pierce? Do you even want me to bring the baby home?”
A flood swept down her face. Her breath heaved. Her body shook.
“You know what?” She raised a hand again. “Don’t answer.”
He knew better than to try. And he was glad he hadn’t stood. “I’m not going to fight with you, Laurie.”
“Fight with me? Fight with me?” She almost stepped away, then turned back, slapped her hands on the table in front of him and braced herself on the surface. “I want you to fight for me. For us.”
“This is what’s best for us. You can be happy about the baby. Go shopping with Mom. Have her be your labor coach. Do whatever you need to do.”
“Do you even hear yourself? You won’t talk to me. Won’t go to sleep with me. You’ve barely touched me in weeks.”
“Laurie, I’m sorry. I know my limits. I can’t do this.”
She sank like a deflated balloon back into her chair, reached for a napkin and dried her eyes. “I knew something was wrong. Every time I asked, you brushed over it and denied it. And I let you! Because it was easier. So, I’m sorry, too.”
“I didn’t know what was wrong.”
“But you knew something was wrong.” She took his hand in both of hers, stroked her thumbs over it and lowered her voice. “I’m not mad at you for not telling me before now. You didn’t remember before now, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“But we need to handle this together. Remember that ‘two become one’?” She paused. “I miss you. I miss us. Don’t you miss me?”
Yes, he missed her. He hadn’t felt this unattached since his mother died.
He looked at her sweet, round face. In her red-rimmed eyes he saw the woman he’d fallen in love with, married, and vowed to cherish “’til death do us part.”
She’ll die. You’ll be there to see her die.
And having his baby could kill her.
He shuddered as cold, black dread clenched his heart. What would he do if she died?
No. He could not deal with her pregnancy. If he stayed busy enough, the next few months would fly by, she’d deliver, and the acid eating up his insides would subside.
She searched his face. “I love you so deeply, so much. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my best friend, yet I feel by refusing to get help, you’re willingly killing my dreams right in front of me. Pierce, please. I want to look into your eyes when I have this baby. I want to share this with you.”
He slid his hand free.
“I know you’re going to say no. You’re pulling away from me. You’ve done it before, and you’re doing it again.”
“I don’t even know who I am anymore! Don’t you get it? I’m not who I thought I was. And I won’t lie to you. I won’t make a promise I don’t know I can keep. My father promised my mother he’d keep me. He broke his word and it destroyed me.”
“You need to know what your pulling away has done to us, to me.” Her voice was a gravelly whisper as she slid the notebook to him. “It’s all in here.”
Pierce stared at his plate.
She’d be better off without you. You’re too messed up to be a pastor.
The notebook, with its glossy red cover, lay before him like a still pool of blood.
The chime clock struck midnight. A second later his cell rang—Gilbert. The only person whose call he’d answer right now.
“Pierce! Oh, buddy. The EMT’s think Dad had a heart attack. I know this is the third time in just a few months, but man, I think this is real. Can you come?”
“Sure.” He hung up. “Gilbert called an ambulance for Angus. I need to go.”
“We need to go. I’ll call your parents. They’ll probably beat us there.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Laurie wondered if Pierce realized he was driving her to the place where she would deliver their child.
After arriving at the hospital, they went upstairs while Angus underwent an immed
iate procedure—his cardiologist happened to be on duty. They found Gilbert, Daniel, and Kay in the large waiting area on the second floor, a space shared with the labor and delivery unit. Nervous families paced anxiously or huddled together counting minutes beside expectant fathers and excited grandparents.
Laurie shook her head. She could almost picture the evil one himself prying at her fingers, diligently working to loosen her grip on God and peace and her dreams of having a family with Pierce.
She didn’t want to let go of God or Pierce, but if Pierce continued in the opposite direction, how could she possibly hold onto both?
Gilbert, who sat alone in a corner, gave her half a smile and reached to shake Pierce’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
Laurie watched as Pierce hugged his friend.
“Anytime.”
She turned away from the tenderness, from the compassion her husband showed Gilbert. But no matter how she tried to control it, jealousy, sharp and strong, seared her heart when Pierce bowed his head right there and prayed aloud with Gilbert.
Gilbert was only a friend. She was his wife.
And, at this very minute, she was pregnant with his baby. But he hadn’t prayed with her in weeks. As far as she knew, he hadn’t prayed for their child since the day she told him about the pregnancy.
“I’m going to the restroom,” she turned around and mumbled to Kay.
“He doesn’t realize what he’s doing to her,” she heard Kay whisper to Daniel.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to,” Daniel answered.
Laurie darted down the hall with Kay following. She eased the restroom door open, bee-lined for the closer of the two stalls and locked herself in. She couldn’t squelch the sobs.
Kay gently knocked on the metal door. “Laurie.”
“Mom, I don’t know what to do.” Laurie talked through the door and blew her nose. “It’s like we take one step toward each other and six steps back. Eventually, we won’t be in the same country.”
Laurie opened the door, unfolded and refolded the soggy tissues in her hand. “We just had the worst—and I mean the worst conversation.”
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