“No. Not at all. I’m glad you called. I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, “Claire, is everything okay there? Are you okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I can’t explain it, but I’ve felt all morning like I’m supposed to be praying for you. I just don’t know why.”
She’d fallen in love with him while in Seattle, despite his words of caution. She’d tried to deny it. She’d tried to pretend she merely thought she could learn to love him. But the truth was it had already happened. She loved Kevin.
And now she missed him fiercely. She wanted him to love her in return. But it was obvious that he didn’t want the same. Not yet anyway.
“Claire? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m here.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” A desperate laugh slipped up from her throat, and she was glad she had an excuse to give him. “Except for a bad case of the jitters. I’m due to meet my future daughter-in-law any minute. I guess you’re supposed to pray about that.”
“Then I will.”
Claire listened as he spoke to their Lord with a quiet confidence she both admired and envied.
He finished with “Amen,” and after a moment of silence, he added, “If you need to talk, I hope you’ll call me.”
Do you really want me to? “Thanks, Kevin. I appreciate it.” She wouldn’t call him, of course. She’d already felt the sting of his rejection once. She couldn’t bear it again. It hurt too much.
“You’ll continue in my prayers.”
And you in mine.
“I’d better let you go. I’m sure you and Sara will hit it off instantly.”
“I’m sure we will too.”
“Bye. Talk to you again soon.”
“Bye, Kevin.”
She replaced the handset in its cradle, shaking her head in futility. Unrequited love might make for great romance in a movie, but in real life it was the pits.
Dakota glanced sideways at Sara. She looked as if she were headed for her execution. He’d hoped they’d taken care of that back at her apartment, but apparently the cure wasn’t permanent. He reached over and grabbed hold of her left hand.
Startled from her thoughts, she turned toward him with wide eyes.
He gave her a wink, then looked at the road again. “Hon, you’ve gotta calm down.”
“I’m trying. It’s just …” She let the words drift off unfinished.
“I told you, you two are going to love each other.”
With another glance he caught her nodding as she forced a pitiful smile.
He released her hand so he could downshift. Then he turned into the subdivision. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of his mother’s house.
“We’re here.”
He got out, hurried around to her side, and took hold of her hand again. He gave her fingers a squeeze.
When her gaze met his, he said, “I love you. So will Mom. She’s standing at the door now, waiting to welcome you into the Conway family. Relax and just be yourself.” As he helped her out of the Jeep, he added, “Everything’s going to be perfect.”
PART 6
Despair
I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are out of joint;
My heart is like wax;
it is melted within me.
My strength is dried up like a potsherd;
and my tongue cleaves to my jaws;
And Thou dost lay me
in the dust of death.
Psalm 22:14 – 15
THIRTY-FIVE
When Sara’s gaze fell upon the small snapshot, a disquieting shiver ran through her. As if she should recognize something about it.
She leaned in for a closer look. The colored photo in the inexpensive gold-toned frame was grainy, but it was good enough to see the broad grin on the little boy’s face as well as the happy expression on the woman’s face. They were seated on the grass in front of a house. A bicycle, complete with training wheels, lay on the lawn behind them, and off to the right she could see a few purple blossoms on a lilac bush.
“Who is this?” she asked Dakota, that unsettled feeling growing in her chest.
“That’s me and my mom when I was … oh, about five, I think.”
That house. That front door. What was it that made her feel like she’d been there?
“Where was it taken?”
“That’s our old house on Garden Street. It’s where I grew up. Mom sold it after she got a divorce, right after I finished grade school.”
Garden Street.
It wasn’t possible. It was just a coincidence. Nothing more.
“Dakota … what was your father’s name?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he answered, “I’ve told you why I never talk about him. I promised Mom I wouldn’t.”
It can’t be. It can’t be.
She looked up into Dakota’s eyes. “What was his name? I need to know. I have to know.”
“Does it matter that much to you?”
Just tell me his name is anything but Dave, and this will all go away.
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, it does.”
“Porter. His name was David Porter. Why?”
No!
Panicked, Sara turned toward the kitchen. Dakota’s mother was standing in the doorway. “Claire … Porter?” It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. In just a moment, this nightmare would end. “Dave was your husband? He’s Dakota’s father?”
Claire dropped the coffee tray.
“What’s going on?” Dakota asked.
Sara spun toward him. Surely, if she asked the right question, this would all go away. “Did your dad call you Mikey?” Tell me no.
“Where did you hear that?” His answer was as good as a yes.
She stepped away from him, needing him to hold her and yet unable to bear the thought of it. Was he Dave’s son? Had she had an affair with his father? “It can’t be,” she whispered. “It can’t. God wouldn’t do this to us. He wouldn’t do this.”
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Dakota demanded, his voice rising. “Mom?”
Sara looked toward Claire, too, silently pleading for words that would make this all turn out right. And in that instant, as she looked at the woman who was supposed to be her mother-in-law, she knew this wasn’t a nightmare. She wasn’t going to wake up. It was all horribly, unbelievably true. Every sordid detail of it.
And yet, still she pleaded, “Say it isn’t true. Please say it isn’t true.”
But, of course, Claire couldn’t oblige.
Sara wanted to die.
Claire had once been Dave’s wife.
Dakota was Dave Porter’s son.
Sara had slept with his father.
She was going to be sick.
“I have to go,” she whispered as the bile rose in her throat. “I have to leave.”
“Sara!” Dakota called after her, but she was already running for the door, tears blinding her.
O, God, please let me die. Strike me dead. Please!
Dakota stared after his fleeing fiancée, then turned toward his mother. She stood like a statue, frozen in place.
“What’s happening?” he asked again. “Mom?”
Without answering, she knelt and began picking up the scattered items from the tray.
Dakota didn’t know what to do. Should he stay with his mother or go after Sara? Something horrendous had happened right in front of his eyes, but he didn’t know what it was. He only knew both Claire and Sara were in pain.
“You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Look at this,” Claire said softly. “The sugar bowl is chipped. A tiny piece is missing. It must have broken when I dropped the tray.”
He knelt in front of her. “Mom?”
She didn’t look up. “How will I find a sliver that small in the carpet?”
&n
bsp; “Mom, you’ve got to tell me.”
I’m supposed to honor my mother.
“Please.”
I’m supposed to cleave to Sara.
How could he do both?
Claire looked up. Their gazes met.
He wished they hadn’t.
“I’ve got to find Sara,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got to go after her. I’ll be back.”
He took off running, his heart hammering in fear. As much from what he’d just seen in his mother’s eyes as from anything that had gone before.
Claire stared at the open door.
The spring day was bright and sunny. The happy sounds of children at play drifted through the neighborhood. The smell of newly mown grass was evident on the breeze.
How could this be? How could everything else seem so normal?
“I’m in hell.”
No, beloved. You are in My everlasting arms.
A sudden rage gripped her, and she shook her fist toward heaven. “How could You do this? How could You let it happen?” She stood and shouted, “She slept with my husband! She destroyed my life. And now she’s doing it again.”
Love covers a multitude of sins.
Not this. Nothing could cover this. Nothing could fix this. Not ever.
Dropping the sugar bowl a second time, she left the house, not knowing where she was going, only knowing she had to escape, just like Sara and Dakota before her.
Dakota found Sara a half mile from his mother’s house. She wasn’t running any longer. Nor would he have said she was walking. It was more of a stagger, like a drunk after a long night with the bottle.
He pulled his Jeep alongside her and shouted, “Sara, get in.”
She kept walking.
“Sara!”
Still she ignored him.
He braked to a halt, cut the engine, and jumped out. “Sara!” He ran after her, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her to face him.
Her cheeks were streaked with tears. There was no color in her face; she was as pale as a ghost. Her eyes, like his mother’s, were filled with incomprehensible pain.
“Sara, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t,” she answered in a voice devoid of life. “I can’t tell you.”
“Come on.” He guided her toward the Jeep. “I’m taking you home. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.” He felt like a broken record, playing the same bars of music over and over again.
She didn’t argue with him. Listlessly, she allowed him to put her into his vehicle.
God, what’s happening here?
As he hurried around to the driver’s side, he replayed the scene in his mind, from the moment Sara had asked him what his father’s name was to the moment she’d run out of the house. But he still couldn’t figure it out. His mom and Sara had never met … and yet somehow they knew each other. Somehow they were connected.
He pulled out into traffic, his thoughts churning.
“I can’t marry you, Dakota.”
The Jeep seemed to roll back to the shoulder of the road by itself.
He gripped the steering wheel as he looked at her. “What are you saying?”
“I can’t marry you.” She stared straight ahead. “I’m going back to Denver.”
“This is crazy. Why? Why can’t you marry me? Why would you go back to Denver?”
“I … I can’t tell you.”
He felt a spark of anger heating his chest. “Well, I don’t accept it. You can’t break an engagement without some reason. Explain it to me.”
She didn’t reply. Instead she started to weep, her head bowed, her hands clasped in her lap.
His anger vanished as quickly as it had come. He’d never seen anyone cry this way before. Absolute silence, absolute stillness, while a flood of tears poured down her cheeks. It was like watching her die before his eyes.
He made a quick decision. He wasn’t taking her to her apartment. Not until she told him the truth. Not until they had this out and he understood it all. He would take her to his place. He’d keep her there until she talked to him. He wasn’t letting her go without a fight.
Help me, Jesus.
Claire didn’t know where she was going. She simply got into her car and drove, following a gray ribbon of road without seeing it.
She ruined my life. She ruined Dakota’s childhood. He was only twelve years old when she was with his father. Only twelve. It’s her fault he grew up without a dad. It’s all her fault.
Hatred filled her, blinded her, consumed her.
What was happening between them at this moment? Was she poisoning his mind against his mother? Was she telling him more lies, making sure he would believe her rather than the truth?
Of course she was. A woman like Sara Jennings always told lies. That’s what she was all about.
How could You let this happen? she railed against God. How?
Could Sara have done this on purpose? Was it no accident they’d met? Had she sought him out because he was Dave’s son?
Anything was possible. That woman was wicked and dishonest and —
A flash of color appeared in Claire’s peripheral vision. A dog. A collie with a bright red handkerchief tied about its neck. A child running behind it.
She jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid hitting them. The car swerved, felt as if it would overturn. She corrected, jerking to the right. She overcorrected yet again.
After that, a series of images flashed in her head.
The blacktop country road …
Tall field grass on an embankment …
A creosoted telephone pole …
The car crashed to an abrupt halt. The seat belt cut into her chest and waist as she flew forward. Her head struck the steering wheel. Pain shot through her.
And then she mercifully blacked out.
SARA WAS too numb, too cold, too empty, to realize where Dakota was taking her until he pulled into his driveway. She stiffened as she gazed at his house. “What are we doing here? I thought you were taking me home.”
“Not until we talk.”
Without a word, she unfastened her seat belt, got out of the vehicle, and started running.
Dakota was too quick. He caught up with her before she reached the corner. Grasping her firmly by the arm, he spun her to face him. “We’re going to talk.”
“Let me go!” She tried to pull free.
“No.”
She pulled harder.
With a look of grim determination on his face, he said, “If that’s the way you want it, then that’s how it’ll be.” He picked her up, slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried her toward the house with long, purposeful strides.
The fight went out of her. She hadn’t the strength to continue. It was hopeless anyway. Everything was hopeless.
Dakota stopped at the Jeep and pulled his keys from the ignition, then proceeded to the back door, unlocked it, and entered. He carried Sara into the living room and set her on her feet in front of the sofa. With a gentle but firm hand, he caused her to sit.
“Now,” he said, “you are going to tell me what just happened at my mother’s. I don’t care if we have to stay here until the Second Coming; we’re going to get to the bottom of this. I want the truth.”
The truth? Nausea rose in her throat, and all she could do was shake her head while pressing her hand over her mouth.
He sat beside her and grasped her other hand. “I love you. There isn’t anything we can’t overcome with love. You know that.”
“Not this,” she managed to whisper.
“Even this.” A pause. “Whatever this is.”
“Not this. I’m being judged, Dakota. This is my punishment for the sins I committed.”
Pain, like the blade of a knife, pierced her middle. She bent over, moaning, hugging her belly.
Why didn’t You just take me, God? Why must Dakota suffer for what I did? It was my sin. Not his.
“Sara, sweetheart, please.” He tried
to draw her into his embrace, but she wouldn’t let him.
I want to die. Be merciful, Jesus. Just let me die.
THIRTY-SIX
Claire awakened to bansheelike screaming. It took a few moments to realize that she was in an ambulance, its siren wailing directly overhead.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred at first, but then it began to clear.
A male attendant leaned over her. “Hello.”
“What —”
“Don’t try to talk, Mrs. Conway.”
She wondered how he knew her name.
“You’ve been in an automobile accident. You’re on the way to the hospital.”
An accident?
“You smacked your head and have a nasty bump. You’ve also broken your left arm. But you’re going to be all right. You don’t need to worry.”
She must have been driving somewhere. But where? She couldn’t remember.
“Was I … was I alone?”
“Yes. The sheriff’s deputy found your ID in your wallet. He said your family would be notified.”
Her family … Dakota …
Something twisted inside her at the thought of his name, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why.
Dakota listened from the other side of the bathroom door while Sara emptied her stomach into the toilet bowl. He wanted to go in, wanted to hold her, wanted to comfort her, to help in some way. But he sensed it would be a mistake to try, no matter how well intentioned.
He placed his hands on the doorjambs and closed his eyes. Father, I need answers. He leaned his forehead against the door. Help me help her.
The toilet flushed, and water started running in the sink.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now she would be able to talk to him. He took a step back from the door, waiting for her to come out.
The disruptive jangle of the telephone broke the silence. He ignored it. Let the machine pick it up. He wasn’t moving from this spot.
“This is Dakota …” The words of his recorded message droned from the kitchen. “So leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks.”
Beep!
“Mr. Conway, this is Ms. Barth at St. Alphonsus Hospital. Your mother has been in an accident. She’s in with the doctors right now and will probably be staying —”
The Forgiving Hour Page 24