Tender Vow

by MacLaren Sharlene

  Just before suppertime, Ivy Bronson called to invite Meagan to come over and play with Buffy. Naturally, Meagan jumped with glee, not seeming the least bit tired after her long afternoon of play at her friend Lacy Plank’s house. Johnny was still asleep, having gone down for his nap later than usual after a full day at the mall with Grandma Roberts and her friend, Mae Gladstone, running in the mall play area and eating snacks.

  Having finished spring cleaning the kitchen, Rachel decided to tackle her bedroom, specifically the walk-in closet. This was a job she dreaded because of how many of John’s items remained for her to deal with. Oh, she’d repainted the bedroom, purchased new linens, hung new pictures, and even replaced a chair, but the closet still held a carousel of assorted ties and leather belts, a few of his suits and sports jackets, and some of his nicest golf shirts. The only reason she’d held on to them was to walk inside and occasionally lift the fabric of one of his jackets or shirts and breathe in the lingering scent of his favorite cologne. But the time had come to start weeding through his things, and she supposed today was as good a day as any to commence.

  By five thirty, she had cluttered the bedroom with folded shirts, boxes of shoes—hers and John’s both—an assortment of slacks, jeans, dresses, and sports jackets, and several items she had yet to decide where to put. Johnny’s coos from his crib, along with Meagan’s return from next door, forced Rachel to leave the room in total disarray until after supper and baths. She sighed and headed downstairs to finalize dinner—for four this time, as she’d invited Ivy to join them. She hoped the kindly neighbor wouldn’t mind her worn jeans, old work shirt, and messy hair. At least she had a sparkling kitchen and a large pot of stew simmering on the stove.

  “You’re so industrious, honey,” Ivy said later while helping rinse the dishes after dinner. “Goodness, I don’t start my spring cleaning till early May. Something about snow on the ground dampens my desire for such an undertaking.”

  “Well, it’s a bit more than spring cleaning, I guess. I’m finally taking the time to sort through the rest of John’s things.”

  “Oh. That’s a big project, then.” Ivy paused to look out the window at her own backyard. “When my Frank passed, I dove into that task the very next week. Everyone’s different, Rachel. You have to decide for yourself when you’re ready. Some people want to move on as quickly as possible, while others just can’t bring themselves to think about it for many months. It’s difficult no matter how you look at it. One thing is certain, though—there’s no right or wrong way.” With that, she resumed her rinsing task.

  “Thanks for that, Ivy. Sometimes, I feel like all I’ve done is drag my feet, and there was a time a while back when I felt so lonely and depressed.”

  “Of course, that’s normal.”

  “My brother-in-law actually helped me get my focus back.”

  “Ah. I’ve seen him here a time or two. Seems like a very nice young man. Meagan certainly loves him.” She chuckled and rinsed one final dish. “I saw the three of you raking leaves together last fall.”

  The memory of that day filled Rachel’s mind—how Jason had moved about the house doing odd jobs, played with the kids, stayed for supper, and very nearly kissed her later that night—and it wouldn’t have been the first time. He’d brought up the matter of that long-ago kiss, and she’d not wanted to discuss it. Looking back, it almost seemed like an eternity ago.

  “You’re fortunate to have family so close by, dear,” Ivy was saying as she squeezed the water out of a dishcloth and proceeded to wipe down the countertops. “I’m sure it’s helped greatly in coming to terms with your loss. You’ve had a long road to travel, and grief is such a rough path to maneuver by oneself.”

  Rachel watched her kindhearted neighbor make herself useful and thanked the Lord that friendship knew no age barriers. It felt good to know she wasn’t alone, that others had walked a similar path and come out looking quite whole. It gave her hope and even spurred her on to finish the job waiting for her in her bedroom.

  Later, when Ivy had gone home, the kids were in bed, and the house was quiet, save for the dishwasher humming downstairs, Rachel sorted through a gigantic pile of hangers, tossing the skinny metal ones into a trash bag and saving the thicker plastic ones. Unmatched socks went into the trash right along with the hangers, as did a few old pairs of shoes and some outdated articles of clothing. The remaining items went into bags and boxes intended for charity. She felt a certain sense of satisfaction as she realized the headway she’d made after just an hour into the job. Why, she could actually make sense of her bedroom again, and it felt delightful. She moved to the closet and stood there, taking in all the extra space and planning her next move.

  And that’s when she saw it—the box containing John’s memorabilia. It was the only thing of his that remained in the room, except for the small photo on her dresser of the two of them.

  She hadn’t touched the box since New Year’s Day, when she’d read John’s letter, tucked everything back inside, clamped on the lid, and covered the box with John’s suits. Today, though, she’d pulled it out in the open to make it easier to access other things. Now, it stood out like a deciduous tree in the desert.

  The love letter came to mind, and she suddenly had the desire to reread it. Dropping to her knees, she lifted the lid and took out the neatly folded letter, holding it to her heart. Then, she noticed the black, leather-bound book tucked to one side. It looked to be a diary or a journal and had a thin, gold ribbon sticking out from its silver-edged pages. Before, she’d believed that reading John’s private thoughts would be invasive, but now she was overwhelmed with curiosity about its contents. So, after pulling it from the box, she stood up and walked out of the closet, grabbed a pillow from the bed, and then settled against the wall with the pillow behind her and her legs folded beneath her. Once she was situated comfortably, she began sifting through the pages, carelessly and randomly at first, but then paying more heed once she saw the dated entries that corresponded to the days leading up to John’s accident.

  November 9

  Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and I need to figure out where we stand financially. I don’t believe Rachel understands the meaning of the words debt or budget. She loves Christmas so much, but purchasing that new van last April and getting a new roof cut quite a hole into our savings. I have to break it to her that she’ll need to cut back on her Christmas buying this year, although she’ll hate me for it. I’m nervous about the overwhelming responsibility of having another child, let alone overspending at Christmas. I hope I’m up for the task of supporting another child. I know I should talk about these worries to Rachel, but a part of me dreads her reaction. She’s like a walking emotional roller coaster these days, happy one minute and crying the next.

  Rachel took in the words slowly at first, allowing them to digest a moment before continuing. Their debts had been small by her estimation, and John’s life insurance payments were helping immensely. Had they really been so monumental to him as to cause such stress? John had always been a meticulous, careful planner. He hated debt of any kind, even short-term. That’s why Christmas had always caused such tension between them. She’d tried buying everything with cash, but occasionally she had gone overboard and turned to the plastic, especially when ordering online. Still, they always recovered by March. His diary entry implied that she routinely overspent, but she’d never seen herself in that light. Heck, she didn’t even enjoy shopping all that much anymore. Somewhat confounded, she read on.

  November 12

  I have not talked to Rachel yet. It’s always difficult talking to her about money. She gets so defensive, like I’m attacking her. She is so sweet, I don’t know why money always has to be the wedge that comes between us. It still baffles me sometimes that she chose me over Jay. I even wonder if she ever has regrets, but then I hate myself for having such thoughts, especially since I know God intended us to be together.

  Where had that come from? One moment, he was wri
ting about money, and the next, he brought his brother into the picture. So, even before they’d argued, he’d battled insecurities about her feelings for Jason? If only she’d known, she could have reassured him of her love and fidelity. Why hadn’t she ever picked up on it? Anger at the whole situation welled up inside her, the result of realizing he hadn’t fully trusted her. What more could she have done to convince him that she loved him? Hadn’t she always been faithful and loyal to him, telling him she loved him, tending to his needs, and having his children? She swallowed a sob and scanned the next two entries.

  November 15

  Tough day at work. At my annual review, Phil said I have to step up production or I’m liable to lose my end-of-the-year bonus. I knew I wasn’t quite up to par, but it’s been tough getting new clients. The economy has put a stranglehold on sales. Of course, Phil doesn’t care what’s happening elsewhere; he just wants my job. I feel it. The truth is, I overheard him telling Ray he’d like to hire his nephew this fall. So, where does that leave me? Lord, I’ve been feeling desperate lately. Please help me trust You more.

  November 18

  Rachel and I had a huge fight yesterday. I should have known better than to bring up the whole money business. Just as I figured, she didn’t take it well. I’m sure I said some harmful things about her spending habits, even implying that she’d gained too much weight to wear a certain dress. Sheesh, what’s wrong with me? You don’t mention anything about weight to a pregnant woman.

  Bitter, hateful words passed between us, and before I knew it, she was confessing to kissing my brother just days before we married! What?! Why would she tell me something like that unless she intended to hurt me? Correction-slice me in two! Is there a hidden agenda somewhere? Something I’m missing? Are she and my brother in cahoots to drive me insane so they can finally be together? It’s seriously put me on edge. I’m even beginning to wonder if something’s been going on between them for a while. I guess anything’s possible. Jay’s always had a crush on her, as much as he may try to deny it. Well, I’ll soon figure it out, but right now, I’m too mad to talk about it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have cooled off some. Lord, please help me see my way through this ugly mess. Thanksgiving is only days away, and then Jay and I head for the mountains.

  So, it’d been more than just the money issue and his worries over their growing family; he’d been having troubles at work, as well. Anger heaped upon anger when Rachel realized he’d been too proud to discuss it with her, and his unfounded fears over whether she and Jay were having an affair crushed her to the center of her bones. With her sleeve, she wiped at the tears running down her cheeks and continued reading with blurred vision.

  November 24

  Thanksgiving went as well as could be expected, considering Rachel and I are still not speaking. I’m sure everyone felt the tension. Shoot, you could have slashed it with a razor blade. I kept a close eye on Jay today, looking for signs that he and Rachel had something going on, but then, wouldn’t she have warned him to lie low if they had? Mostly, he just hung out with Meagan, chasing her around the house and making her raise the roof with her joyful shouts. He wanted to discuss our trip, but I just couldn’t muster the right mood. I know he’s ticked with me, especially since we’re leaving in two days. I’ll put it to him when we get to Colorado, just ask him point-blank how he feels about my wife. I’ll know right off by the look in his eyes if he still loves her, but, oh, dear God, give me grace to contain myself if I recognize that look.

  November 25

  Rachel took Meagan to visit her mother tonight, so I decided since she went running to Mommy I might as well go see my dad. Wrong move. I told Dad far more than necessary or prudent. Good grief, I even told him about Jason kissing Rachel before our wedding, and he about blew a gasket. He’s convinced my brother is a home wrecker, even though neither of us has an ounce of proof. I’m having serious doubts now. I mean, there must be an explanation for all of it. I’m nothing but a big jerk! Why can’t I swallow my pride, apologize to Rachel for my stinking behavior, and then confess that I’m scared to death of losing her, that I love her more than words can say, and that, most important, I’m sorry for doubting her? God, help me be the man I need to be. Forgive me for my faults and shortcomings and, most of all, my foolish pride.

  She could have swallowed her own pride, she ruled, staring at the blank pages that remained in the journal. She could have been the one to beg for forgiveness first, but no, she’d stubbornly insisted it was his duty to take the initial step. Surely, Satan had laughed all the way to John’s grave.

  Her fingers skimmed lightly over her precious husband’s final words. Forgive me for my faults and shortcomings.

  “Oh, my darling John, God did forgive you, for He is a gracious, merciful Father who knew you well. He understood your aching heart, along with your worry and confusion, and loved you anyway. I’m the one in need of mercy. Jesus, please forgive me my stubbornness and foolish pride, and, if it’s possible, could You tell John how very sorry I am?”

  Feeling strangely renewed, she swept away the last of her tears and stood up, suddenly realizing a few things remained unfinished. Downstairs, she methodically selected which photos to remove from the mantel and coffee tables and which to leave. In the end, she selected the one taken of their family before John Jr.’s birth and their wedding photo for display. Neither would be too painful to glance at on a regular basis. The others she made a neat stack of and decided to put in plastic containers to be stored in the basement. Someday, Meagan and Johnny would appreciate having them.

  Next, she opened the hall closet and took out John’s winter coat and boots, carefully folding the coat and laying it and the boots beside the sofa. Early on Monday morning, she would drop everything off at a local charity. Peace she hadn’t felt in some time washed over her like rain—cleansing, cool, and refreshing. It felt good to de-shrine her house of all things John. In fact, it was time. She would never cease to cherish his memory, but she couldn’t continue to let her grief keep her from experiencing the wonderful things life still held in store.

  Her gaze fell on the coffee table and the Bible Jason had given her for Christmas. She’d been reading from it every morning, taking comfort from its words, words that dared her to step out in faith and take the hand of the One who loved her unconditionally and always had her best interests in mind.

  “Thank You, Lord,” she prayed. “Thank You for the strength and courage You give. Please give me the patience to wait on Your direction and the discernment to understand Your perfect plan.”

  Chapter 27

  Jason woke with a stiff, aching neck, the result of having lain wrong and being too exhausted to turn his lazy body over. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and so, once he’d finally drifted off, he’d gone directly into deep-sleep mode. He glanced at the clock and moaned. Seven thirty. What was he doing up so early on a Saturday morning, especially when it felt like he’d just gone to sleep? As usual, thoughts of Rachel drifted in and out of his mind, along with images of Meagan’s angelic face and John Jr.’s impish one. He loved all three of them equally—well, almost—and missed them more than the moon misses the night. It had been three weeks since he’d talked to Rachel, and he’d be swallowed whole before he called her again. She knew how he felt about her, so the next move had to come from her. No question.

  He threw off the blankets, slid his bare legs over the side of the bed, plunked his feet onto the cold hardwood, and massaged the knot in his neck, contemplating whether to take a shower now or later. He decided to wait. Right now, he had bike ride on the brain. He could live with a little knot in his neck, and, besides, a good, hard ride might work the thing out. Peeking out of his bedroom window, he saw that some snow still remained, but the roads were dry, and the temperatures had been somewhat mild for the last several days—perfect riding conditions. Plus, the sun was already peeping through the blinds, spurring him on. Since getting a seasonal tune-up on his bike, he’d gotten the itch for riding
again. It had been a long winter of inactivity, with no downhill skiing, and he looked forward to spring and summer sports—golf with his usual foursome, softball, water sports, and three-man basketball—whenever his work schedule permitted. He’d found ways to keep his body active over the winter, of course, working out in the clubhouse gym and pool, but there was nothing like getting outside in the elements, whether wind, rain, blazing sun, or blinding snow. Skiing truly had been one of his first loves, but would he pick it up again next winter? Perhaps. But would it ever hold the joys it once had?

  In the kitchen, he poured himself a cold cup of day-old coffee, put it in the microwave, and set the timer for sixty seconds. As he waited for it to heat, he shuffled to the door to pick up the Saturday paper from the front step, then sauntered back to the kitchen, skimming the headlines mindlessly. He tossed the paper on the counter, unwrapped a loaf of bread, and took out a couple of slices. While he was waiting for the bread to toast, his cell phone vibrated on the kitchen table. He picked it up and answered without checking the caller ID, expecting to hear the voice of his friend and foreman, Todd, or perhaps one of his parents, or maybe even one of his buddies from church. Certainly not his ex-girlfriend!

  “Candace! Well, for crying out loud, how are you?”

  “You sound happy to hear from me. I was hoping for that. I’m fine. How are you, Jason?”

  Did he sound happy? Shocked might have described him more accurately, but he didn’t correct her. Forgetting entirely about his coffee and toast, he suddenly felt the need to sit down, so he lowered himself onto the closest thing, a barstool.

  During the first five minutes of conversation, they exchanged idle chat, discussing the weather, her job at the hospital, his latest building endeavors, and even the guy she’d been dating but recently dumped. “He just didn’t have any of the qualities I’m looking for in a husband, you know what I mean?”