Suddenly the room was empty except for a hole in the ground. John crawled out of it holding the baby boy in his arms. Kade . . . it was Kade; Abby knew it. She ran a finger over the infant’s forehead and then saw Nicole climb out of the hole as well.
“Nicole, you’re okay!” She hugged her daughter, convulsing with tears and stroking her golden hair. Before Nicole could say anything the baby in John’s arms let out a loud sound and Abby turned to him. Only now he was three years old, and he and John were having a burping contest in the middle of the living room. Abby looked at John, and they both laughed until tears were streaming down their faces. She glanced out the window and saw that their house was in the middle of the football field. Through the fifty-yard line ran a street where Nicole was sitting, playing in the middle of the road unaware of the car speeding straight for her . . .
“Nicole!” Abby’s voice echoed into the night and she was deathly afraid, utterly alone until she felt the arms around her. Warm, strong, reassuring arms. John’s arms. He’s here . . . he’s come. She turned and hugged him close. Oh, John, I love you . . . thank God you’re here . . .
Instantly they were bathed in Friday-night-football lights, standing in the end zone at Marion High. Slowly a distance began to grow between them, leaving John on the field and her in the stands—in the back row—squinting to see what was happening. The crowd was frenzied, and the Eagles were down a touchdown in what Abby knew was the biggest game of the year. Halftime . . . it must be halftime.
Over the loudspeaker someone was reading a letter.
“Mr. Reynolds, I think you’re the worst man who’s ever coached football. Maybe our boys might win a game or two if they could get someone at the wheel who knew what he was doing . . . knew what he was doing . . . knew what he was doing . . .”
The words echoed across the field, and Abby ran down the stairs as fast as she could toward John. Only it took longer than usual, and she was forced to run for what seemed like hours until finally she closed the gap between them. Then, with everyone watching, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s okay, honey . . . God has a plan in this. It’ll be okay . . . you’ve got a gift and one day the whole world will know it . . .”
Suddenly she was in the school weightroom, heading for John’s office, finding him at his desk. “John . . .”
There were tears in his eyes when he turned to her. “Don’t tell me, Abby. It’s been hard enough already, please don’t tell me . . . don’t tell me . . . don’t tell me . . .”
She came up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “It’s my job to do this, John . . . even if it’s the worst news you’ll ever hear. I have to tell you . . .”
Without warning there was the sound of a stadium exploding with the cheers of thousands of football fans. “And now—” the stadium announcer bellowed over the crowd—“the state of Illinois would like to award to Coach John Reynolds and the Marion Eagles the honor of—”
John stopped him before he could finish. “What I really want,” he said, “is my dad. He’s supposed to be here. Maybe if someone could find him . . . find him . . . find him.”
“Congratulations! Here he is . . .” Only the voice no longer belonged to the announcer, but to another doctor . . . one in a green coat and strange glasses. And Abby wasn’t in the stands, she was on an operating table. “It’s a boy . . . a boy . . . a boy.”
Sean smiled at his parents and gave them the thumbs-up sign. But before Abby could hold him or savor the downy fuzz of his newborn cheek, they were all in the car, the old sedan they’d driven back when they were newly married. At the stoplight John pointed to a building up ahead. “What’s that, Abby? I’ve seen it before but I can’t remember . . . can’t remember . . .”
It took her a minute to recognize it. The building was their church, the place where they’d taught Sunday school together, where they’d taken their children when they were young. Only it looked different now, and John was wrinkling his brow. “That’s not what church looked like, Abby . . . Are you sure? Are you sure?”
They stopped the car and climbed out, and she held Nicole’s and Sean’s hands while Kade stood with John, and suddenly a crack in the ground developed between them. It began to grow.
“John! Quick, jump!”
He stared strangely at her. “You jump, Abby. I like it on this side.”
“But it’s better over here! I like my side. Come on . . . jump!” Her voice was shrill, filled with panic as the distance between them continued to grow at an alarming rate. Eventually she couldn’t make out what he was saying, just that he was trying to talk.
“Come on, John. Don’t you care about me? Jump! Jump, John! Before it’s too late!”
Nicole started to cry, and Sean closed his eyes. “I’m scared, Mommy. Make him come back. Make Daddy come back . . .”
Then John grabbed a long piece of rope and though the space between them was widening more with each passing second, he heaved it with all his might and it spanned what was now a canyon. In a blink, the rope became a sturdy footbridge.
“I’ve changed my mind, Abby. I’m coming . . . I’m coming!”
Without waiting another moment, John and Kade ran as fast as they could across the bridge. They were almost there, almost to the safe place where Abby and Sean and Nicole waited, when the bridge began to give way. Kade caught his father’s arm and the two jumped the remaining feet, barely landing on solid ground.
“Oh, John, you could have been killed . . .” Abby ran to them and hugged first Kade, then John. “You should have stayed over there where it was safe.”
He caught her eyes with his and drew her close, kissing her the way he had when they had first fallen in love. “I had to be with you, Abby. I love you! I’ll always love you . . . always love you . . . always love you . . .”
His words repeated, over and over again—“ . . . always love you . . . always love you . . .” —but his voice changed, and Abby pulled back, studying him.
No! It can’t be . . .
Abby untangled herself, frantic. Instead of John holding her, it was a dummy made up to look like him. “ . . . always love you . . . always love you . . .” There was a recording playing from inside the life-sized doll, and as Abby moved backward, her heart racing, the dummy fell to the ground, eyes open. “ . . . always love you . . . always love you . . .”
Abby’s scream pierced the night and she shot straight up in bed, gasping for breath, her heart racing faster than ever before. What had happened? What had she just lived through? A dream?
No, a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare.
She shook her head, trying to clear the strange words and images that had consumed her night. Everything about the dream—the voices and feelings, the way her body had felt wrapped up in John’s arms—all of it had been so real. She struggled to catch her breath.
In the still of the night, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Four-fifteen. Bits and pieces from the pictures in her head still played in her mind, and she sank back down onto the pillow. Had any other two people been through as much as she and John and then decided to throw it all away?
Abby didn’t think so.
And, in the quiet hours before she and John would sit down with their children in the home where they’d been raised and tell them about the divorce, Abby grieved for all they’d been, all they’d done, all they’d never be again after today.
The grieving turned to quiet weeping. She sobbed in a way she hadn’t done in years until she heard the early morning stirrings of John in the kitchen making pancakes and the kids taking showers down the hall. Feeling as though she’d aged decades overnight, Abby dragged herself from bed, wiped her tears, and drew a deep breath.
There was no point dwelling on the past. It was time to face the future.
Five
ABBY PULLED ON A TURTLENECK AND MATCHING sweatshirt and slipped into a pair of jeans. Might as well be comfortable since they were bound to spend most of the day in
deep conversation, wiping their children’s tears and making shallow promises that somehow everything was going to be all right.
The house was colder than Abby liked, and after she made her way downstairs she rounded the corner and flipped on the heater. At least our home will be warm, even if we can’t be that way toward each other.
John glanced up from the skillet and spotted her. “Pancakes are ready.”
Abby stared at him and blinked. Didn’t this day matter at all? Had it been so easy for him to come home late, sleep through the night, and pop out of bed to make pancakes like everything was fine? “I’m not hungry.”
She turned her back to him and wandered into the living room where the meeting would take place in less than an hour. Everything was neat and tidy, but in the morning light she could see a layer of dust on the old photos that sat on the bookshelves— framed pictures from when they were young and just starting out. Abby thought about getting a rag and dusting them, then shook her head. It’s fitting that they’re covered in dust. Just like our lives.
She closed her eyes for a minute and considered the enormity of the announcement they were about to make. So this is it, huh, God? Dusty photographs, dusty lives. How did we make such a mess of things?
Seek first My kingdom and all these things—
Abby’s comeback was quick and rude. We did seek You and look what happened. Immediately she was seized with remorse. I’m sorry. It’s not Your fault. She squinted and stared across the room, out the window at the front lawn she and John had landscaped themselves. It seemed like an eternity ago that they’d been able to laugh together, to love each other the way they’d once hoped to spend a lifetime loving. And now . . .
Now their lives were an unmanageable ball of knots too tangled to understand, let alone make right again.
Abby sensed someone else had entered the room and turned around.
“I think we should talk.” The corners of John’s eyes were lined; maybe he was more concerned than she had thought.
“About what? Haven’t we been through it a hundred times with the counselors?” She crossed her arms and chided herself for finding him attractive. After all he’d put her through, all the lies he’d told . . . even now, an hour before their big announcement, she could not force herself to be unmoved by the sight of him.
John sighed and dropped into the nearest chair, anchoring his elbows on his knees as he lowered his head. After several beats he looked up and caught her gaze so powerfully she couldn’t have blinked if she wanted to. Do your eyes have to be so blue all the time?
“Look, Abby . . . what I’m saying is . . . are you sure? Are you sure this is what we should do? Are you sure it’s the right thing?”
Abby shifted her weight and released a short laugh. “I’m absolutely sure it isn’t the right thing. The Bible tells us that much.”
John sat perfectly still, his gaze still locked on hers. “Then why, Abby . . . why let it happen?”
She’d always hated the way her eyes stung with the initial onset of tears. This time was no different. “I didn’t let anything happen, John, and you know it. We let it happen. And right now—to be perfectly honest—you’re letting it happen. You and Miss Meet-You-Friday-Morning-Same-Time-as-Usual.”
“What?”
“Don’t look surprised, John. You’re the one who saves her notes in your sock drawer. Did you forget I’m the one who does your laun—”
“Be quiet.” He stopped her midsentence, the connection between them broken as he stared at his feet, shoulders stooped. “The kids are getting ready, and Matt’ll be here any minute.”
What? Abby felt like she’d been slapped in the face. “Matt? Why’s he coming?” This was outrageous! The most difficult announcement they’d ever had to make and now they had to do it in front of a stranger? John must be crazy to have allowed Nicole to—
“Oh, get off your high horse, Abby. Nicole wanted him here for the first part of the meeting. I guess he’s got something to ask us. Talk to her if you’re so frustrated.”
“Stop blaming me for everything.” She took a chair opposite him and lowered her voice. Even in this they couldn’t get along. “You make it sound like I’m crazy to want just our family here when we tell the kids we’re getting a divorce. I mean, seriously, John, why not invite the whole neighborhood? We could sell tickets, pass out popcorn. I don’t know, I guess I thought it was kind of a private moment.”
“It will be.” His voice was a tightly controlled hiss. “We can take a break after Matt talks to us, and he’ll be on his way. Nicole said he has a hundred things to do today.”
“Then why come to our meeting?”
John forced the air from his lungs and shook his head, chuckling in a way that was completely void of humor. “Don’t you ever let up?”
“I know, I’m the bad guy, the relentless one, pushy and demanding. Fine. So be it. But why does he have to come to the meeting?”
“Forget it!” John stood up and glared at her. Gone was the intensity in his eyes, the searching and questioning heart that had moved him to wonder aloud if this decision to dissolve their marriage was really one they should be making. In place of all that was a man with whom Abby was more familiar these days, a man who seemed neither to love her nor care for her feelings. “Ask Nicole.”
He turned to leave, and Abby was instantly on her feet. Not that quick, John. You started this conversation. “Wait!”
He spun around, his expression cold as wet cement. “What?”
Don’t say it, daughter . . . A kind word turns away anger . . .
Abby narrowed her eyes. “You asked me a question earlier.”
John waited, silent.
“You asked me if I was sure if this was the right decision.” Fresh tears stung at her eyes, and she blinked them back. There was a tightening in her chest, and she recognized what it was: the walls of her heart were growing higher, harder.
“And . . . ?” John’s look had gone from cold to impatient, and she wanted to kick him in the shin. Maybe then he’d share some of the pain she was feeling.
“It’s the right thing to do, John.” Her voice was measured, barely more than a whisper as she fought for control over her tears. “As long as you’re sleeping around behind my back, it’s the only thing we can do.”
Fire exploded in his eyes, and he clenched his teeth. “I am not sleeping with her, Abby. She’s a friend.”
“How can you stand there and lie to me?” She gave a shake of her head and glared hard at him. “I mean, you’re absolutely amazing. Your sock drawer has a love letter from the woman, and you’re trying to tell me she’s only a friend? Be real, John. And when the kids ask why, make sure you mention your weakness for sad, lonely women, will you?”
A dozen emotions flashed in John’s eyes, and his jaw muscles flexed. But he said nothing, only turned around again and disappeared into the kitchen.
Abby stood there, watching him go, and a strange, sad feeling came over her. In that instant, her hardened, walled-up heart felt like an unbearable burden deep within her. “She’s a friend . . . she’s a friend . . . she’s a friend.” John’s words beat at her relentlessly until she shut her eyes to make them stop.
He was sleeping with Charlene, wasn’t he? He had to be.
Let he who is without guilt cast the first stone . . .
There it was again—that same voice. A piercing pang entered her consciousness, and Abby thought of her e-mail friend, a man she’d been talking with almost daily for the past two years. That’s not the same.
Let he who is without guilt cast the first—
No! She shouted silently at the words assaulting her heart. I’ve never even met the man. Why would God want her to feel guilty now? She needed that friendship. Especially with John devoting all his attention to Charlene.
Daughter, hear Me. Let he who is without—
Abby closed her eyes and forced the words from her mind. Okay, fine. We’re both guilty. But it’s John’s fault, Lo
rd. He’s the one who broke faith first.
Abby considered the number of times she’d found out from other sources that John and Charlene were together, and suddenly her mind was filled with the image of the two of them on the football field after the state game. It was amazing the kids hadn’t gotten wind of their father’s affair.
Like the old saying went, where there was smoke there was fire. And where Charlene and John were concerned, there had been enough smoke to indicate an outright inferno.
Lean not on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge Me and I—
Why was this persistent voice rattling around in her heart lately? Ever since the football game. Certainly it had to be habit, familiarity with Scripture, and not the presence of God trying to communicate with her. After all, it had been years since they’d attended church regularly, and at least that long since she’d prayed or read her Bible with any consistency. What would the Lord want with me now? Now that John and I have gone against everything He ever wanted for our lives?
There was no answer, and she allowed her eyes to find the dusty photographs once more. Every time there’d been a chance to make things right somehow she and John wound up in a fight. Just once, Abby, couldn’t you have shut your mouth? Couldn’t you have walked straight up to him and allowed him to hold you like old times? She thought about that for a moment and realized the answer was no. Fighting words were all they had left.
Apparently today would be no sentimental exception.
They had no choice now but to move ahead with the divorce and pray that somehow God—if He still cared enough to listen— would forgive them and help them make new lives without each other.
Sean and Kade were already downstairs in the living room, but Nicole was reading her Bible on her bed, feeling as though she might actually float if she tried to stand up. She glanced across the room at her mirror and realized that she had never felt more beautiful. Really and truly, she was a daughter of the King, and He alone had set her apart for this moment in time. It was overwhelming.
She scanned the pages of Jeremiah 29 until she found the verse she wanted, the one she’d lived under and believed since she was a little girl: “For I know the plans I have for you, . . . plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Nicole let her eyes read over the words several times. Never had her future looked brighter than at that moment and it had everything to do with the nature and faithfulness of God Almighty.
A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace Page 4