by JoAnn Durgin
He turned to face her, hopeful optimism etched into his expression. Propping his elbow on the back of the bench, his eyes dropped to her lips.
“I miss you.” That brought his gaze upward to meet her eyes. She loved his smile, liked the way he looked at her now. “I miss the way you make me tea and leave it in the microwave, knowing I’ll probably be up in the night and find it there. I miss our morning devotions.” She smiled a little. “I even miss seeing you gulp down those horrible breakfast shakes. You have a way of . . . really getting into my thoughts even when it’s a very inconvenient time. I’m afraid my students, and probably most of the school staff, think I’ve gone mental.”
“Could it be that missing me is the reason you’re sitting here today, on this bench, on a school day, not to mention in the middle of the day?”
“It might have a little something to do with it.” When Marc leaned toward her, she felt an undeniable tug in her chest and consciously fought to stop twisting her hands together. Her eyes widened as she realized she wouldn’t mind if he kissed her on the lips. He’d already worked his way around her face. A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. She sniffled and looked away. “See, I told you I was mental.” One minute she was fine and the next she’d cry. Why couldn’t she control her emotions? Opening her purse, she fumbled for a tissue.
“Let me, Natalie,” he whispered, scooting closer on the bench, caressing her cheeks with both thumbs. “You may not remember, but whenever you cried—which wasn’t often since you met me, for the record—I’d kiss away your tears.” To prove his point, he pressed his lips against the wet trail on first one cheek and then the other. It was incredibly sweet how the forthright businessman could turn surprisingly gentle.
Closing her eyes, she enjoyed his tender touch. “You’re a very . . . romantic man, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to do my best to help you remember.” Marc’s arm circled around her on the park bench, but then he removed it almost as fast. “Sorry.” He sounded disgruntled.
“It’s all right. You’ve already kissed away my tears. Now,” she said, lifting his arm, “let’s put that arm back where it belongs.” His eyes softened, and she sensed his relief. “How was your therapy session today?”
Marc stared at some of the children playing around them, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. “Dr. Fontaine seems to think I’m making some headway.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
He stretched out his long legs and shifted his position, but left his arm around her shoulder. “He also told me to stop being so selfish.” He shrugged. “So, how are your sessions going? I’m sure your doctor didn’t tell you to stop being selfish.”
She sighed as she tucked a stray section of hair behind one ear. “They’re going as well as can be expected, I guess, but they obviously haven’t brought me any closer to recovering my memories.” She hated telling him that, but he should be used to it by now.
Marc frowned. “Are they repressed memories or are they totally gone? I mean, does the doctor think your memory’s completely lost, or is it in there somewhere, waiting to be tapped into if it’s somehow triggered?” Slumping back against the bench, he lowered his head into his hands. He sat that way for a long moment before looking back up at her. “I’m not making sense to myself, so I can’t expect you to understand.”
Taking his hand in hers, Natalie squeezed. It was the reassuring, comforting gesture of a caring friend, but she understood it wasn’t what Marc hoped for, what he needed. She couldn’t give him that. Not yet, but hopefully someday.
The Adam’s apple in his throat moved up and down. “What if you don’t remember? What then?” She could tell how much it took out of him to ask. From what she knew, he rarely expressed doubts about anything.
Touching the side of his chin, she needed to look at him. Such a handsome face with its masculine, angular lines and planes. An involuntary sigh of longing escaped, and she caught the way his eyes lit. His gaze melted into hers before settling on her lips again. She was thankful he seemed to find her pretty, but it also drove her crazy out of her mind. With him looking at her like that, it took a few seconds to find her voice.
“I don’t know how, Marc, but I’ll come back. With more love for you than before. If you can just hang in there long enough.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Maybe it’s not fair to you to ask you to wait even longer, but . . .” Please, Lord, let him wait for me. Help us find our way back to each other.
Marc planted a soft kiss on her lips, the first since her accident. Her heart responded, and so did all the rest of her. Why should she be surprised? This man knew her. And, somewhere deep inside, she knew him in the intimate way only a wife could.
He pulled away after a moment and released a deep sigh. “That’s all I need to hear. I’ll wait, however long it takes.” His eyes caressed her lips, lingering there. With a gentle finger, he trailed an achingly slow path along the edge of her face, tracing her cheekbone before skimming his thumb across her lower lip. She was powerless, under his potent spell. It was the most sensual thing she could imagine, especially when he graced her with that devastating smile guaranteed to turn her to mush. “I love you, Natalie.” When he brushed her cheek with a whisper of a kiss, a deep yearning stirred. “We’ll work through this together.”
She opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak. If she told Marc she loved him in the heat of this moment, it would only be hormones talking. Even so, would that be so wrong? He was her husband. Moral convictions and upbringing in the church aside, maybe she should tug him by the hand, lead him back home and march straight up those stairs to the bedroom. He would love it, but she wasn’t ready. Above all, she treasured honesty in their relationship. Deep down, so did he. The sad, honest truth stared her in the face. She didn’t feel married. Trembling with emotion, she closed her eyes, dazed by his nearness. Moving her head to his shoulder, she put her hand near his heart, seeking the reassurance of his strong, steady heartbeat. His arm tightened around her shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.
Marc needed a wife, a soulmate, a helpmate. A lover.
She snuggled into him, burying her head and enjoying the quiet moment. She loved his warmth, his desire to protect her. They sat that way for a long time until he looked at his watch. The selfish part of her wanted him to stay much longer. As they said good-bye, his eyes searched hers, seeking answers and a promise for tomorrow. Caressing the side of his hand with her thumb, she raised it to her lips and planted a gentle kiss.
His eyes widened as she took his hand and placed it over her heart. Pressing his palm flat against the thin cotton of her dress, her hand over his, she relished the look of love etched into her husband’s face. With her other hand, she smoothed his bangs away from his forehead.
Although she couldn’t find words, surely Marc knew.
She offered him Elwood’s leash, but he shook his head. “Maybe in a couple of weeks. Not now.” He turned after one last kiss on the cheek. “Be careful going back to the school. There’s construction all over the place. I’ll call you tonight.”
After helping Elwood scamper into the passenger seat, Natalie watched as Marc strolled down the street. At least she’d given him renewed hope, as evidenced by his confident strides, the lift of those broad shoulders. A few hundred yards away, he turned and blew her a kiss, sending her heart into overdrive. Climbing into the leather seat of her Audi, her smile sobered. She couldn’t hide from the hard truth much longer. A man like Marc Thompson might have the best of intentions, but if things didn’t change, he wouldn’t be around forever.
It simply wasn’t possible.
Chapter 11
“Hey, Marc.” Trevor Monaghan stuck his head inside the office door. “You’re looking pretty ragged, my friend.”
“Well, hello to you, too.” Marc gave him a half-grin and laid his pen on the desk. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Judging by your goofy look, I’d say you’ve been spending tim
e with the lovely Miss Kilbourne.” All their flirting around each other the last few months was enough to drive him crazy. Even though he frowned on office romances, this one seemed inevitable. Last week, he’d advised Trevor to declare his intentions and get on with it, especially since everyone else in the office could see they belonged together. “About time you two connected. No doubt it’s a match made in God’s infinite wisdom.”
Trevor smiled. “Thanks, considering the sentiment comes from one of the most successful advertising gurus in the country.” He plopped his lanky frame down in the chair opposite Marc’s desk, the wide grin spreading across his face.
While flattering, Trevor overstated the case. Marc sat back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. Don’t need that kind of pressure.” He met Trevor’s gaze. Talk about Irish eyes. “I couldn’t do it without you, that’s for sure. So, enough sap.” He grinned. “Tell me. When’s the wedding?”
Trevor laughed. “Don’t rush us. But things are going great. No thanks to you, I might add.”
“How so?”
“You were supposed to arrange a little office get-together, as I recall, in order to facilitate our blossoming friendship. Oh, how quickly they forget,” he joked when he gave him a blank look.
Marc shook his head. “Sorry, Trev. I haven’t exactly focused on social events the last few weeks. Refresh my mind.” He made a mental note to plan something special for Christmas for his staff. They were too invaluable for the lifeblood of his agency, and he couldn’t neglect them or they’d start grumbling. And those kinds of rumbles could lead to bigger trouble.
“I’m just teasing you. No need to worry. I’m doing just fine on my own without the crutch of an office event to win over Christy’s affections. How are things with you?” He sobered at Marc’s deep scowl. “That good, huh?”
Marc rubbed his tired eyes. “Tell me what good it does to have gained all these material things,” he said, gesturing around his modern office with its expensive framed art and sculptures, “when I can’t have the one part of my life that means the most.”
“You worked awfully hard to get where you are,” Trevor said, his voice quiet, but without the slightest hint of chastisement. “You don’t turn off your life’s blood because you got married. I mean, come on. This is me, Marc. Natalie’s great, but she can’t fill every void in your life.” He gave him a quick look. “Neither would you want or expect her to.”
Marc met his gaze head-on. “You’re right in one respect,” he admitted. “Partying in the Red Sox clubhouse, tickets to every Celtics game and going to the Patriot’s kick-off parties is a nice perk, but Natalie does fill the gaps in my life. I’m floundering without her.”
“Like a drowning man in the bay?”
He snorted. “More like the annoying guy who’s thrown off the lifeboat and can’t swim. I’m calling out, but nobody’s answering.” He paused a moment. “Maybe they don’t want to. I’m stretching my arms toward the lifeline, but I can’t seem to reach it, no matter what I do.”
Trevor nodded. “Sounds to me like you could definitely benefit from a talk with Pastor Ron. He might be able to give you a better perspective. I’m really sorry you’re being put through all this.”
He made it sound like he was being punished. Maybe he was. But by whom—God Almighty? “You know, both you and Dr. Fontaine have told me I should speak to our pastor.” Since Trevor attended the same church, Marc knew Pastor Ron well. Since he trusted his creative director on a daily basis with crucial business decisions, it seemed he should do the same in his personal life. “Considering I trust your collective judgment, maybe that should be my next move.”
“You mean I’m giving you the exact same advice as that high-priced shrink?” Another of Trevor’s trademark grins surfaced.
Marc nodded and smiled. How he appreciated this man. “None other.”
“Then, in exchange for my fee, you and Natalie can treat Christy and me to an outrageously overpriced dinner once everything . . .” His voice trailed and his gaze dropped. “You know what I mean. Sorry.”
“I do, and thanks. Stop apologizing. It helps more than you know to talk about it.”
~~**~~
Before the Sunday evening service, Pastor Ron Shelton sat next to Marc in his study. “Natalie’s met with me a few times. Give her time. The Lord can work a beautiful miracle in this situation, and we’re going to pray toward that end.” The lines around the senior pastor’s eyes crinkled. There was that word again. Situation. This time, it didn’t bother him. Feeling the need to unburden himself, Marc confessed his recent temptation and subsequent humbling before the Lord.
“I’m sure you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Pastor Ron advised. “Keep your eyes on Him, and God will never tempt you beyond what you can bear. The success of your agency shows how resourceful and resilient you are.”
“Meaning He must have some serious tempting in store to test me,” Marc said. The sarcasm was ill-advised, especially around a man of God. “I’ll never be able to be content or fully rest in the Lord again until Natalie and I are back together. I’m trying my best, but that’s the bottom line.”
“I know you are, but as best you can, try to grow and learn from it.”
“To be honest, what the Lord wants me to learn from this experience is something I might not ever understand.”
“I’m sure it will all be revealed in due time. In some ways, I have no doubt your relationship with your wife will be stronger for having gone through this trial. Trust in the Lord, and don’t blame Him. Remember, God doesn’t go by our timetable. It’s all in His control.”
The words pierced Marc’s heart as he recalled his rash outburst in Dr. Fontaine’s office. Do I blame you, Lord, for what happened? For taking Natalie away from me? “I don’t want to blame God, but it’s all very confusing.” He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to pray, if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll do that, and I’d like to share some scripture with you. But first,” Pastor Ron said, standing to walk around the desk, “I want to give you something.” Flipping through a small book on his desk, he wrote a name and phone number on the back of one of his business cards.
Returning to his chair, Pastor Ron handed the card to him. “Sam Lewis is Domestic Missions Director of TeamWork Missions based in Houston. Natalie’s volunteered with their organization in a few summer work camps, at least a couple in San Antonio. She’s very passionate about the work TeamWork does, and I’ve heard her speak to the ladies and the youth group here at the church about the impact the missions made on her life. It’s my hope Mr. Lewis and his wife might be able to give you some insight to help.” He met Marc’s eyes. “Call it the Lord’s leading, but it’s at least worth a phone call.”
Marc nodded. “Thanks. I know the name Lewis since Natalie’s talked about them in the past. Some of the TeamWork ladies were in our wedding, but Sam and his wife weren’t able to make it.” He scratched his head. “Unfortunately, Natalie doesn’t remember much about her experiences with them.” But she did remember Winnie’s name. That was a promising start.
As they prayed together a few minutes later, Marc wanted to believe the Almighty heard his prayer. The battle lines were slowly fading, but it remained difficult to worship when he couldn’t fathom God’s purpose in allowing this horrible thing to happen to his wife. She didn’t deserve it. But neither did all the abused children and wives in the world. Or all the victims of floods, earthquakes, other natural disasters or acts of horrific terrorism. Bad things sometimes happen, even to the best people in the world. Didn’t make it any easier to stomach.
“Thanks, Pastor Ron,” Marc said, shaking his hand on the way out of his study. “I appreciate your time, and I’ll call Mr. Lewis tomorrow.” Why not? He had nothing to lose and maybe something to gain. Pausing outside the sanctuary, he spied Natalie surrounded by a few ladies. She nodded and listened, and it was good to see them engaging h
er in conversation. When another pregnant woman approached, Natalie slid over on the pew. She smiled and returned the woman’s hug, and turned to say something to a couple of young children with her.
His wife needed the encouragement and support from her friends, and he was thankful for them. It wasn’t the time to interrupt. Heading for the side door of the church, Marc avoided the greeters positioned by the front doors. Maybe he should slide in a back pew and stay for the service, but he couldn’t do it. Not when his heart attitude wasn’t right.
God forgive me, I just can’t.
Chapter 12
Marc drummed his fingers on the desktop, focusing on the clock on his desk. He’d been preoccupied all morning, and it wasn’t like he was accomplishing much work. He had to plan his strategy for how to approach the conversation with Sam Lewis. How could he summarize the story of what happened to Natalie in sixty seconds or less? He wasn’t a very good ad man if he couldn’t figure that one out. You’d never know he made countless cold calls each month and often socialized with the insanely rich and famous. Yet he was nervous to call Sam Lewis because this time, it was personal.
“Thanks for calling TeamWork Missions. May I help you?” The young, feminine drawl brought a smile to his lips. The native Texan accent held such an inherent welcome. “Hello?”
Marc snapped to attention. This was an actual living, breathing woman on the other end of the line. Such a refreshing change from the usual recorded greeting. “Sam Lewis, please.”
“Sam’s out for lunch with his wife right now, sir, but if you’d like to leave your name and number, I’m sure he’ll call you back this afternoon.”
“Thanks. I’ll call back later.” Replacing the phone, Marc sat lost in thought, ignoring the nagging in his mind. He could at least have left a message. An hour later, taking a break from watching the latest ad campaign on the screen in his office, he tried again. The same friendly voice patched him straight through to another extension with no hesitation whatsoever, as if she’d been waiting for his call.