by Nancy Moser
“If you’re happy, I’m—” She stopped herself. She ached to let him know what was on her mind. For three years she’d waited for God to give her an opening to tell Sig the whole truth. But every time she’d thought This is it, something had happened or been said to change the direction of the moment. Would the same thing happen again today?
Sig angled his body toward hers, bringing one leg onto the cushion between them. He looked ready to listen.
She waited for the phone to ring, for Nelly to interrupt them, for Sig to talk about the weather, some detour away from the subject that begged for release.
Sig sat in silence, studied her face, and took her hand. “What’s troubling you, Deidre?”
With that one question, her prison gate was opened.
She rushed through before it clanged shut. “Me,” she said. “I’m troubling me. The me who I am is troubling me.”
He smiled and swept a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “I love who you are.”
She shook her head adamantly. “You shouldn’t. I’m not the woman you think I am, or the woman you thought I was.”
“So your name is Mary or Linda or Brunhilde or something?”
“Don’t,” she said. “This is serious.”
“Then just say whatever’s on your mind. We’ve already lived a nightmare. Nothing you say can be worse than what I’ve put us through.”
Wanna bet?
Her old impu
lse to run returned. How many times had she fought this battle against flight? How many times would she fight it in the future?
But she was still here. That said something.
Sig put a hand on her knee. “I love you. Does that help?”
Actually…
Deidre sprang from the couch and moved so the coffee table sat between them. “No, it doesn’t. Because you shouldn’t love me. You should hate and despise me.”
“Why would I do that?”
She raised a hand, stopping him. “You wanted to hear what’s bothering me; you’re going to hear all of it. It’s been eating at me for three years—if not longer than that.” She sighed. “I am a master at ignorance, at not allowing myself to see what’s wrong, at pretending I’m handling everything wonderfully when I’m not handling anything at all. This stupid need I have to control—”
“Deidre, just tell me.”
Her hands were at her sides, making fists, so she tucked them across her chest. “First off, I did more than just date Brett Lerner. He raped me. Nelly is his child.”
Through all her practice sessions regarding what she would say and how she would say it when the chance arose, she’d never considered being so blunt.
In response, Sig just sat there. Then his mouth dropped open and his head started to shake in short bursts of no.
“It’s true, Sig. He raped me; I got pregnant and had the baby.”
“But I thought Don was her father.”
“Don was her father. In every sense but one. Even he didn’t know about Brett. He knew Nelly was my child from a previous relationship, but he didn’t know the circumstances behind her conception. I couldn’t tell anyone that because I couldn’t risk Nelly ever finding out she was the child of rape.”
“It wasn’t her fault.”
“I know. It was mine. I was the one who trusted Brett, and was too stupid or naive to realize the type of man he was.”
“You could have told me about it.”
“The secret was old by the time I met you. And then you fell in love with Nelly and—”
“I fell in love with you.”
Why was it so hard for her to accept that? “You shouldn’t have loved me. That’s the other secret I’ve kept from you. Because I didn’t love you. I was a widow with no money and few hopes for the future. Nelly needed a father. Nelly needed an operation. I used you to get the two of us out of a bad situation.”
“I know “
She took a step back. “What?”
“I know that you were interested in me for what I could do to better your life.”
“Then why did you marry me?”
“Because I fell in love with you. And Nelly. And because of that, I wanted to give you all the things you didn’t have. I wanted to give you everything I had.”
“Even if I didn’t deserve it?” Deidre put a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.
He went to her and pulled her into his arms. “Love has nothing to do with what we deserve. It just is. And when it shows up we need to embrace it as tightly as possible, cherish it, and help it to grow. That’s more important than any career, any project, even any calling. Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.’ You, Nelly, and Karla are my family. You are why I’m here.”
“But—”
He tipped her chin upward. “But nothing. ‘We love each other because he loved us first.’ Without stipulation, reservation, or even logic. Can you accept that?”
She let his eyes convince her. “I’m trying to.”
“What if I spend the rest of our lives helping you accept it?”
“It may take that long.”
“Then I will enjoy the process.”
He leaned down and kissed her.
And she kissed him back.
THE END
***
Live a life filled with love,
following the example of Christ.
He loved us and offered himself as a sacrifice for us,
a pleasing aroma to God.
EPHESIANS 5-2
Dear Reader,
Shakespeare said, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.” Some good parts and some bad. Some in public and some in private. The trouble arises when the distinction between our public persona and our private one is vast. At such times are we pretending to be something we aren’t?
H. Jackson Browne said, “Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking.” When the curtains are drawn, who am I? What kind of person am I? Am I better or worse than the person I present to the world?
In Solemnly Swear I wanted to create characters who were playing parts—who were stuck in a part. I wondered whether they would recognize that they weren’t being true to their real selves. Would they come to see that the part they were playing wasn’t as satisfying as they thought it was? Would they discover that being honest with themselves about themselves offered release and freedom? Would they feel the need to seek out their true part and purpose?
The biggest consequence to playing a part is believing it’s who we are. We hide within our roles, often unwilling to let God behind the curtain. We cover our eyes and think he can’t see us, can’t see what we’re doing, or what’s in our hearts and minds. It’s exhausting work, keeping all that a secret. Only when we let God in do we give him the chance to direct the development of our character and mold it into something pleasing to ourselves, the world, and most importantly, to him. He’s the only one who can tighten the boundary between public and private, making each of us a stronger, unified person. “Characters live to be noticed; people with character notice how they live.”
I must admit the journey I took while writing this book was not always pleasant. Although Abigail, Ken, and Bobby behaved, Deidre and Sig did not. They kept hiding from me, teasing me with “This is who I am. Really. I’m not kidding this time” only to repeatedly lead me astray. Actually, unlike most characters (most people) they pretended to be worse than they really were. Stern and hard, needing no one. They had chips on their shoulders, daring me to knock them off.
When they were misbehaving like that, I didn’t like them much, but finally, after fighting with them through many edits, I broke through their patina of toughness and found their softer, vulnerable cores. And when I did, I was allowed to show you, the reader, the private times when they weren’t the mighty doctor and the self-assured socialite. I liked them be
tter with their masks off because I empathized with them and understood them.
Can we be creating similar problems in our own lives? Do we keep our masks on, denying our friends and loved ones access to our true selves? And if our true selves are devoid of admirable traits, shouldn’t we do something about it?
The saving grace is that God knows us and loves us no matter what part we play. However, we will be able to love him (and ourselves) better if we are honest and open and let him in. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. So do it. Honestly and candidly introduce yourself to the Almighty and see what happens. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
“Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal comfort and a wonderful hope, comfort you and strengthen you in every good thing you do and say” (2 Thessalonians 2:16-17). Blessings on your journey as you let God cast you in just the right part.
Nancy Moser
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
In Chapter 3, Abigail sits beside Bobby during a break. She is surprised to find him listening to classical music. We inflict stereotypes upon others and have them inflicted upon ourselves. Yet stereotypes exist because there often is an element of truth in them. How do you see stereotypes played out in your daily life? Who has surprised you?
All the characters in Solemnly Swear play a part: Bobby (the Nobody) pretends to be less than he is. Ken (the Somebody) acts more important than he is. Abigail (the Has-Been) acts like the fame of her past is all there is. Deidre (the User) pretends her past choices are acceptable because she acted in order to obtain a secure life for herself and her child. Did these characters choose the parts they play or have they been unwillingly cast into the part by circumstances? How does this part keep them from achieving their true purpose? What part do you play? Are you playing it willingly? What is the danger in playing a part?
The emotional scars of Deidre’s past led to her marry two men for the wrong reasons. Put yourself in her shoes. Go back years before, to the time when she first dealt with Brett . . . what other choices could she have made? How might her life have been different? Better? Worse? What do you think of the choices she did make?
Fear is an underlying emotion for each character. What do each of them fear? (Deidre? Bobby? Abigail? Ken?) What do you fear? How can that fear be relieved?
Each of the characters seek control. How important is control in your life? Have you learned to surrender control to Christ? If so, how? If not, why not?
Deidre tries to hide part of her life from God. Only when she stops the game does she find release. When have you hidden something from God? What was the result? What are you still hiding from Him? What’s holding you back from being honest with Him?
Deidre is guilty of running ahead with her own plans, unwilling to hear what God has in mind. Name a time you’ve run ahead, wanting your own way. What happened? Did you finally let God catch up with you and lead? What happened then?
Sig is a good man who helps children. Yet with Brett he makes a huge mistake. What do you think about his initial decision to try to hide his guilt and let another take the blame—a person who’s life didn’t have as much obvious “worth” as his own? What do you think about his decision to come forward? What do you think would have happened if he had not come forward? What would you have done in his situation?
The Kellys have to deal with the issue of violence with Brett and also with Nelly’s bully. Is violence ever justified?
Many of the characters have painful pasts or have made choices they regret. Forgiving others and ourselves is one way to move on. How have you dealt with painful issues from your own past? What issue still dogs you? How can you move on, free of its power?
In Chapter 11 Deidre realizes she should tell Nelly that God is there to help, yet she hesitates because she hadn’t talked about God for years. She was afraid of Nelly’s reaction. When have you been afraid to talk about God-issues? Why? Did you do it anyway? How did it turn out?
Bobby has trouble believing his God-given talent has worth. He is unwilling to let God “do His stuff”. What talent are you hiding or diminishing from its true potential? What’s the worst that could happen if you committed to using your gifts fully? What’s the best?
In the epilogue Sig alludes to God’s unconditional love when he tells Deidre that “Love has nothing to do with what we deserve. It just is.” When have you loved someone when they didn’t deserve it? When have you received love when you didn’t deserve it? Who needs your love now? How have you felt God’s unconditional love in your life?
About the Author
NANCY MOSER is the best-selling author of twenty-nine novels, including Christy Award winner, Time Lottery and Christy finalist Washington’s Lady. thirteen historical novels including Love of the Summerfields, Masquerade, The Journey of Josephine Cain and Just Jane. Some of her contemporary novels are: The Invitation, Solemnly Swear, The Good Nearby, John 3:16, Weave of the World, The Seat Beside Me, and the Sister Circle series. Nancy has been married for over forty years—to the same man. She and her husband have three grown children, seven grandchildren, and live in the Midwest. She’s been blessed with a varied life. She’s earned a degree in architecture, run a business with her husband, traveled extensively in Europe, and has performed in various theaters, symphonies, and choirs. She knits voraciously, kills all her houseplants, and can wire an electrical fixture without getting shocked. She is a fan of anything antique—humans included.
Website: www.nancymoser.com
Blogs: Author blog: www.authornancymoser.blogspot.com, History blog: www.footnotesfromhistory.blogspot.com/
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/nancymoser1
Facebook: www.facebook.com/nancymoser.author
Twitter: www.twitter.com/MoserNancy
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/117288.Nancy_Moser
Excerpt from
THE INVITATION
JULIA CARSON STARED out the window of the bus and smiled at the children waiting for her.
“Stop here, Murray,” she told the driver of the Book Bus.
Murray stopped the vehicle in front of the Minneapolis Magnet summer school. Two dozen children ages six through fourteen waved at their ex-governor.
“Is it always like this?” Murray asked. He was new on the job.
“Word is definitely getting around.” Julia waved at the children through the window. “Some of these kids have never owned a book, so getting a free one every time I come makes it feel like Christmas—for all of us.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Murray said.
Julia put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ll take one happy kid over a dozen grumpy politicians any day.”
Murray opened the door, and Julia stepped out amid cheers and hugs. She found the open adulation satisfying but also embarrassing. All this gratitude for a few books, for something that was a basic need in every child’s development. She vowed as long as she and Edward had money to fund the Book Bus, it would continue.
“Mrs. Carson, Mrs. Carson, I read my last book two times already,” said a little boy whose oversized T-shirt skimmed his knees.
She put a hand on top of his head. “I’m proud of you, David. Are you ready for another one?” He nodded, looking up at her with dark eyes. She leaned close and whispered. “Do you want to go first?”
He smiled like he’d won the lottery.
“Me, too!” said ten-year-old Telisha. “I finished Little House in the Big Woods all by myself.”
Julia tugged her hair affectionately. “Then you shall be second.”
David and Telisha’s good fortune spurred the other children to all talk at once as they vied for Julia’s approval. She was relieved when the director of the summer school clapped her hands, quieting them.
“Get in line, kids. You know the rules. Six at a time. No dawdling when it’s your turn. Mrs. Carson will help if you have questions."
The children got in line with a minimum of commotion. There was a
nother cheer as Murray exited the bus carrying a crate of juice boxes and three packages of cookies.
Julia eased her way past the children and entered the bus. She stood in the door. “David, Telisha, come on in. And then you, Sarah? Is that your name? You and Gaylord and Grant, and we’ll end the first group with the handsome young man with the gorgeous smile...yes, that’s you, kiddo. Come, children.”
The children scrambled in, shoulders bumping shoulders as they jockeyed for position near their favorite bookshelf. Julia loved this part. She delighted in helping each child pick out a special book they could take home forever. Books had been such an important part of her childhood. One of her most precious memories was her family’s evening ritual: after the dinner dishes were cleared, her father had read to them around the walnut dining table with the tatted lace tablecloth. It was there that Julia had been introduced to Oliver Twist, D’Artagnan, and Anna Karenina.
If only she could do the same for all the children who searched the limited shelves of the Book Bus. With a hot meal warming their stomachs, she’d gather them close and safe and read aloud to them. She’d marvel as their faces glowed while they absorbed the age-less stories.
Julia’s attention was brought back to the crowded bus by the sound of a book falling to the floor. “Don’t grab, Sarah. There are plenty of books for all of you.” She retrieved the book. “Christy,” Julia said, reading the title as she handed it to the girl. “A very good choice.” Sarah beamed and held the book to her chest as she headed for the door.
Julia watched the little girl step out of the way so a middle-aged woman could enter the bus. Probably someone’s mother or grandmother, she thought. The woman’s clothes were rumpled, and a wisp of black hair pointed left when it should have pointed right. Her eyes studied the titles of some young-adult books. She seemed to be looking for something.