Michael’s eyes followed it as it unrolled two feet.
“Then I haven’t been loving you biblically, Mike. Because I’ve been keeping a record of your wrongs—the things you say that make me feel bad.”
Michael felt his ears heat up. This was humiliating. He hated this. The heat in his ears turned to heat in his temper.
“Stop.” Pastor Bert stepped up beside Jeanie.
“Good. I’m glad you stopped her. She shouldn’t discuss something private in front of a group.” Michael truly respected and cared for this man. He had a fatherly way about him that Michael never had from his own dad. His dad was a tyrant who could wound everyone with a single word. Michael mentally stumbled over that thought. A tyrant? Was that what these people were accusing him of being?
Bert rested one large hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I’m not stopping her. I’m stopping you. I can see you growing angry. The whole purpose of this gathering is that we all love you.”
Michael looked from face to face. He wondered about it.
Pastor Bert might love him; he was a man of God.
Jeanie’s eyes said that she loved him, even though she stood there holding a list of his sins.
Emily and Jake, maybe—sure, why not? Jake had worked beside Michael a lot. They were good friends.
Buffy, well, she’d always been a woman of faith. If anyone could love an undeserving brother, it was Buffy.
Michael noticed Wyatt wasn’t here. Possibly the man had to work. But Wyatt was the one who’d done the most scowling over those adoption papers. More likely, Wyatt was forbidden to be here because, when they’d planned this, Wyatt had voted to round up a posse, a noose, and a lone oak tree. But these folks mostly did love him—in Christian brotherhood. Yes, even Wyatt might claim that, under threat of torture.
Michael could say that, too. He loved them all right back. And he was a tyrant. He could take this intervention like a man. He needed it. He needed them all, a lot more than they needed him.
Nodding, he looked at Jeanie. “Tell me. I’m ready to listen. But before you start, I want you to know you’re right. I knew when I first got back here that I was the one with the problems, not you. But I let that get away from me.” Michael took her hands. “I need help to change. I let the counseling slide and the daily devotions. I’m sorry.”
Jeanie crushed the list in one hand and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you. And you’re not the only one who went wrong.”
Brushing her hair back off of her forehead, Michael noticed it was white blond. Her makeup was heavy. Her clothes were too tight. This was his fault. “You’ve gone wrong by putting away that bat.”
Jeanie lifted her chin and smiled. “I’ve gone wrong because I kept everything inside. You asked me from the start to make you accountable. I failed. I was doing okay until you got hurt, and then I was just so glad you were alive.” She hugged him so hard it hurt.
The best hurt Michael had ever felt.
“I was so glad I had you in my life. You were hurt and understandably grouchy, and I wanted to make your life as comfortable as possible. I started saying yes to every demand and … I just let it get away from me. It’s so much easier to keep quiet, to avoid confrontation, to take all the blame and try to change myself.”
“Twist yourself into a pretzel, you mean.”
Jeanie shrugged.
“The accident made it worse, Jeanie,” Emily said. “But you remember the day Buffy and I heard Michael putting you down. You were already making excuses for him.”
Michael realized he couldn’t even remember a time he’d insulted Jeanie in front of Emily. It was too easy to let emotionally abusive language slip free. “I think you’d better read me that list.”
“I will, but later. When we’re alone. And I’ll get another bat.”
Pastor Bert produced one from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and Jeanie let go of Michael to take possession.
“Thanks a lot,” Michael said dryly.
“And your counseling resumes tomorrow morning. We’ll meet faithfully once a week, and you’d better not make me hunt you down.” Pastor Bert sounded kind and unmovable. “You’ve made promises before, Michael. I really don’t know if you can control yourself without someone a little tougher than Jeanie watching you.”
“I’ve stayed too far back from this, too, Michael. I’m not leaving Jeanie to handle you alone.” Buffy put an arm across Jeanie’s shoulders. “And I tried to talk to you a couple of times about the way Michael treated you, Jeanie, but I let you persuade me to drop it. I won’t do that again. If that makes me a meddling little sister, too bad.”
They were right. Michael had learned it all at his father’s knee, and being a tyrant wasn’t something he could change in a day no matter how completely he admitted he had a problem.
Michael looked at the people in front of him, willing to confront him in Christian love, and it struck him that this was what a family meant. This support, this intermingling of lives. And when he thought of it like that, he also knew his whole definition of family had been warped.
He remembered Jeanie’s life verse: “We want you to be very strong, in keeping with his glorious power. We want you to be patient. Never give up. Be joyful.” Jeanie had said she clung to the part about strength but couldn’t ever find the joy. He knew now how she felt.
“I want to take my wife home and talk things out.” He looked from face to face, until finally he got to the only one that mattered.
Jeanie, her eyes spilling over with tears of pain and love, nodded. “Let’s go home.”
“Thank you all. I’m going to be a better man.”
Jeanie swiped her wrist across her eyes. “I’m going to make sure you are.”
“Stop.” Buffy’s sharp command stopped Michael in his tracks. “Before you walk away, we’re going to talk about Sally. I’ve let that slide, too. I’ve talked with Jeanie, but I’ve never faced you with this. Are you planning to sign those papers or not?”
Jeanie’s arm tightened around Michael.
Silence reigned.
Buffy didn’t budge. Neither did the pastor or Jake or Emily.
As the silence stretched, Michael felt pain growing until it ached like a broken arm. He heard echoes from his past. Jeanie scared of him. A baby crying. His own cruelty.
God, I was so steeped in sin. I still am.
The pain deepened as Michael faced all that his choices had cost Jeanie, Sally, and himself. And all the pain the wrong choice now could bring.
“I … I don’t know if I can, Buffy.” The least he could do was be completely honest. It was long past the time for not being completely honest. “I haven’t signed them because … because I would have to admit I’d failed. To sign my daughter away is—” Michael’s voice broke. He whirled away, shocked and humiliated by his lack of control.
Jeanie wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he pulled her hard against him, feeling like a fool for crying. A lifetime of sin crushed him. He’d never taken the time to love Sally as she deserved. He’d given no thought to Jeanie when he’d stormed out of her life.
Michael thought of the Love Chapter. Love is patient, and he was terribly impatient.
Love is kind, and he’d been so unkind to Jeanie and his little girl.
It does not envy. Michael never stopped wanting more, wanting what someone else had.
It does not boast, is not proud. Michael wore his pride like a royal robe, and he never stopped boasting about his success.
It is not rude. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.
Michael looked at that list crumpled in Jeanie’s hands. But wasn’t he the one who had always kept a record of wrongs? Wasn’t he the one who had always found fault, never let a chance slip by to criticize?
But he remembered more than the list that convicted him.
He looked into Jeanie’s kind eyes, so much more than he deserved. “Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes. I
t never gives up.”
“The Love Chapter,” Pastor Bert said quietly.
“I’ve failed in all of that, Jeanie.” Michael’s eyes fell shut. It was almost more than he could do to speak the words aloud. “But I’m not going to fail Sally now.”
“Michael, please.” Fear widened Jeanie’s eyes. “You’ve got to—”
“I mean,” he cut her off—and promised himself and God it was for the last time. But this once, because she misunderstood, he stopped her before her hurt could go any deeper. “I mean I’m going to let her go.”
Tears burned at his eyes again. But this time he didn’t even feel embarrassed. If a man couldn’t cry when he gave his child away, then God had no reason to invent tears.
Jeanie threw herself hard against him, buried her face against his chest, and together, for all the failure, all their rugged past, they cried.
A quick signature. Painful as the slash of a knife, but Michael didn’t know if it would ever heal. Then he pulled Jeanie close and they turned to go.
Buffy rushed past them to plant herself in their path. “I’m going to be watching you.” Her words were tough, but there was kindness in her eyes along with hope. She wanted her sister to be happy. Her expression said she thought that maybe Michael was up to being part of that happiness.
Michael realized he had a real family—a sister, a brother in Wyatt, nieces, nephews … a wife. True friends, friends who cared enough to stand in his path when he was heading down the wrong one, in Jake and Emily. He ran a quick hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears then leaned down and kissed Buffy on the cheek. “I’m counting on it.”
Buffy stepped aside, and Michael and Jeanie headed for home to begin again for the last time.
twenty-six
Pastor Bert refused to perform the wedding ceremony until Jeanie and Michael went through intensive counseling.
Even Jeanie was impatient by the time the stubborn man finally agreed, declaring the counseling would continue whether they wanted it or not.
Jeanie wanted it. She was delighted that Michael agreed with her.
Impatience aside, Jeanie loved every minute of those months. She and Michael were talking as they never had before. Michael wasn’t always perfect, but he’d learned to catch his temper, recognize it, and calm down, usually before she threatened him with her support system. The bat sat as a reminder, but Jeanie knew they couldn’t rely on that alone again.
She went back to her job at the library. Michael now ran the cash register at the mini-mart every other Saturday. The new cabins lined the creek, the restaurant hummed with activity, and Michael agreed it was enough. No more grand plans—just a lovely little vacation spot.
Jeanie dragged Michael into every volunteer project that came her way. They were so busy they had to schedule the wedding on a weekday night, right after choir practice.
It didn’t matter; the wedding was small. Buffy and Emily as bridesmaids. Wyatt and Jake as groomsmen. Their children and a very few others as guests—unless they counted that the whole town of Cold Creek came.
But it wasn’t as if they were invited. Having a wedding under the beautiful fall foliage out in front of a row of cabins—well, that was public land. Anyone who wanted could stop and stare. Even a few renters quit their vacationing and attended.
Even knowing it was a huge mistake, Pastor Bert insisted Jeanie use the bat as a ring pillow. With Colt and Cody as ring bearers, the rings had no chance of survival. Jeanie suggested tying fake rings on the bat. Michael agreed and kept the real ones in his pocket.
Sally was the flower girl. As she stood beside the pastor, Jeanie realized they hadn’t lost their baby. They could love her wholeheartedly without tearing her secure life apart. And wasn’t that real love?
“Dearly beloved”—Pastor Bert ducked a line drive like he’d played in the majors—“we are gathered here today …”
Wyatt had even warmed up to Michael enough that he acted as best man—and referee. When his Stetson went flying off of his head, Wyatt finally grabbed the bat away from both boys then growled under his breath at the pastor, “I can keep ’em occupied, but I can’t keep ’em quiet. Hurry it up.”
The vows were spoken quickly. But Jeanie heard the sincerity in every word Michael spoke, and she poured all her love into her own promises.
As the pastor pronounced them man and wife, he closed with an unlikely wedding scripture: “‘We want you to be very strong, in keeping with his glorious power. We want you to be patient. Never give up. Be joyful.’”
It was finally, completely true. Jeanie smiled at Michael and knew joy. A joy that hadn’t been there when they’d married the first time. And it hadn’t been there when he came back. It had been a rocky road, but God knew they’d needed to walk such a broken path to learn true strength, to find abiding patience, to experience great joy, to know true love.
As the scripture said, they’d never given up. And they’d made it.
Smiling, Jeanie stood on her tiptoes, eager to obey the pastor when he told her bossy bridegroom to kiss the bride.
I didn’t know who to dedicate this book to because I was afraid they’d either think I was calling them bossy like Michael or wimpy like Jeanie. I finally decided to dedicate this to my Seeker buddies, because they’re perfect and will completely understand my intentions: Janet Dean, Debby Giusti, Audra Harder, Ruthy Logan Herne, Pam Hillman, Myra Johnson, Glynna Kaye, Sandra Leesmith, Julie Lessman, Tina Russo, Cara Slaughter, Camy Tang, Missy Tippens, and Cheryl Wyatt. Check out www.seekerville.blogspot.com.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Mary Connealy
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
MARY CONNEALY is an author, journalist, and teacher. She writes for three divisions of Barbour Publishing: Heartsong Presents, Barbour Trade Fiction, and Heartsong Presents Mysteries. Mary lives on a farm in Nebraska with her husband, Ivan. They have four daughters: Joslyn, Wendy, Shelly, and Katy, and one son-in-law, Aaron.
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