Don’t lose hope, Sara. Remember that we’ve fixed our hope on the living God. Don’t forget it. Not ever. Hang on to it.
Claire sat down between Dakota and Kevin. It wasn’t until then that she saw Sara’s distinctive red hair.
Anger instantly glowed hot in her chest. She’d hoped Sara wouldn’t have the nerve to show her face in church. After all, she had to know Dakota would be there, and if Dakota was there, then Claire would be there too. Surely, she had known it.
But she’d come anyway.
As the service began, Claire was only vaguely aware of the pastor, of the choir, of those around her. The very core of her being was focused on hating the younger woman whom she held to blame for every wrong that had occurred in her life.
She didn’t know for certain what drew her back from her secret rage. Perhaps it was the minister’s voice: “Galatians 6:1 and 2 say, ‘Brethren, even if a man is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ.’”
Something stirred inside her, one word repeating in her mind: Restore … Restore …
“John 20:23 says this: ‘If you forgive the sins of any, their sins have been forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they have been retained.’”
She knew what God was saying to her, and yet she resisted.
I’m the wronged person here. Me!
FORTY-ONE
The negligee on the mannequin was made of white satin and trimmed in delicate lace. It would have been perfect for a bride on her wedding night.
Claire watched from behind a display as Sara, longing and loss written on her face, reached out and touched the nightgown. Then, as if stung, she quickly pulled back her hand. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned away, an aura of futility lingering in her wake as she left the lingerie department.
Claire drew in a deep breath, not realizing until then that she’d been holding it. She’d been afraid Sara would see her, and yet she’d been unable to move so much as an inch. She’d been like a deer caught in the headlights, mesmerized despite the danger. Something in the girl’s expression had caused a crack in her hardened heart.
She knew she was supposed to forgive Sara, and it wasn’t anything Dakota or Kevin or even the pastor had said that told her so. She knew she had to let go of the anger and bitterness a second time. She’d laid it all down once, when she first came to believe. But how quickly those old traits had replanted themselves when she’d met Sara. Like the demons returning to the man because he didn’t put anything else in their place after Christ cast them out.
I don’t want to be like that man. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to be worse off than I was before.
Wanting suddenly to escape this place, she hurried toward the escalator. And that’s where she came face to face with Sara. Each of them stopped, looked in the other direction, as if they could pretend they hadn’t seen each other, then met the other’s gaze a second time.
Sara was the first to find her voice. “Claire.”
“Sara.”
“I … Please, go ahead.”
She had an affair with my husband, and then she wanted my son. The thoughts raced through Claire’s mind in an instant. She took him like an innocent lamb to the slaughter. Did she seduce Dakota? Is that how she got him to propose? She must have entrapped him, her and her wicked ways. He never would have fallen for her otherwise. She hasn’t changed. It’s obvious she isn’t good enough for him. So what difference does it make if I forgive her or not? She’s gone from his life. He’ll get over her and meet some nice girl and get married. It’ll be better that way. Better for everyone.
Sara took a step backward. “I just remembered something. I’ve got to go. Excuse me. I’m sorry.” She turned and hurried away.
But not before Claire saw the tears.
The tears shouldn’t have affected her. She didn’t want the tears to affect her.
But they did.
Another chink appeared in her armor of bitterness.
It was good to know Sara’d gone to work today, Dakota thought as he leaned against a support post on one of the apartment complex carports. But remembering the way she had looked yesterday at church kept him from feeling much relief. She’d lost weight, appeared too thin, her clothes hanging loosely on her frame. He suspected she wasn’t sleeping much, judging by her eyes.
Of course, he wasn’t sleeping much himself these days.
He saw her car turn the corner. He straightened and stepped deeper into the shadows of the carport as he watched her pull into her designated parking space. She didn’t immediately get out after cutting the engine. Instead, she leaned her forehead against the backs of her hands, hands that clenched the top of the steering wheel.
Was she crying?
I’ve got to go to her.
But an invisible hand stayed him from doing what he wanted.
After a long while, she opened her car door. When she stepped out, he could see she was carrying a purse and what looked like a sack of carry-out food. He hoped she ate it. All of it.
Ah, Sara, it’s hard to see you like this. I love you so much. I want to make it better. I want to take your hurt away.
With listless steps, she crossed the driveway and followed the sidewalk to her building’s entrance. The way she grasped the handrail as she started up the stairs reminded him of an old woman, a grandmother with brittle bones and hunched shoulders.
If I can’t show her my love, Lord, show her Yours.
He waited until she disappeared from view before heading in the direction of the nearby office complex where he’d parked his Jeep.
The popular Mexican restaurant was busy and noisy. Three times in the past half hour servers had yipped and shouted and serenaded someone with a birthday or an anniversary or some other special occasion.
But at the moment, it wasn’t the decibel level that was giving Claire fits. It was trying to eat her chicken fajita with only one hand.
Seeing her dilemma, Kevin chuckled and said, “Here. Let me help.”
“Are you going to spoon-feed me like a baby?”
He wasn’t put off by her mood. He just grinned and teasingly said, “No, but that might be fun.” Then he pulled her plate toward him and cut her chicken and vegetables into bite-size pieces. He even cut the soft tortilla. “Won’t be quite the same as holding the rolled-up version, but you won’t starve trying.” He pushed her plate back in front of her.
“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure why there was a lump in her throat, but there was.
For a time they were silent, lost in their private thoughts as they ate. Claire was remembering Sara, the white negligee, and Sara’s nearly palpable heartache.
From the next booth came a woman’s voice, intruding on Claire’s memories: “Do you think he’ll leave Maggie and marry that girl he’s having the affair with?”
“Wouldn’t you?” another woman responded.
“They’ve been married almost twenty years. They’ve still got kids at home.”
“Well, Maggie isn’t exactly blameless, you know. She’s nearly suffocated that poor man with those needy ways of hers. Have you ever listened to how she whines at him? Maggie may be a friend of mine, but if I were Jim, I’d have left her years ago.”
Claire felt like standing up and shouting at the two women, telling them they had no right to gossip about their friend with such cavalier disregard. What did they know about what really went on in Maggie’s marriage? What did they know about a wife’s hurt over that kind of betrayal? How dare they side with the adulterous husband? What if the wife was needy and whiny? That was no excuse to —
“Claire?”
She looked at Kevin.
“You can’t change yesterday, no matter how hard you try.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? It doesn’t show in your actions.”
“What
gives you the right to —”
“Because I love you.”
She sucked in a gasp.
“I love you, and I’m tired of watching you fight so hard to prevent God from doing a work in your heart.”
“I’m doing no such —”
“Yes, you are.” He leaned forward. “There’s a scripture that goes something like, What’s crooked can’t be straightened. Quit striving against the wind, Claire. Let go of the past. Really let it go.”
Why was he doing this to her? With one breath he told her he loved her, and with the next he criticized her. Handed her happiness with one hand and took it away with the other.
His voice softened, gentled. “You already know what God’s telling you to do. Don’t fight Him so hard.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. You don’t have to be strong. His power’s perfected in our weakness.”
Clichés! Trite answers to an impossible situation. The only way he’d quit offering his unsolicited advice was if she made him understand.
She looked down at her plate. “Sara Jennings had an affair with Dakota’s father. She was the cause of my divorce. Because of her, I could hardly manage to keep a roof over Dakota’s head because Dave never paid child support. It was her fault my son didn’t have his dad around to go with him to father-son games or to play ball with.”
She kept on, venting her rancor, not caring what he thought of her for saying it. She was tired of Dakota and Kevin thinking she was the one in the wrong. She hadn’t had an affair with a married man. Why was she the one who had to forgive and forget? What about the price Sara had to pay for the wrong she’d done?
What about justice?
The dinner Sara had brought home from the deli remained in the paper sack. She had no appetite. She’d tried to watch some television, but she couldn’t concentrate. Everything was all jumbled in her mind.
When the knock sounded at her door, she ignored it. She hadn’t the energy to get up and answer it.
“Sara, it’s Mom. Open up.”
With a sigh, she obeyed.
Kristina stepped into the apartment and immediately wrapped Sara in a tight embrace. She didn’t say anything for a long time, just held her daughter, rubbing her back as she’d done when Sara was a child.
Sara fought her tears. She was tired of crying, tired of thinking, tired of feeling. She was weary beyond belief.
After a long while, her mother took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. She didn’t release Sara’s hand as they both sat down. If anything, she held on more tightly. “I want you to tell me what’s happened.”
“I can’t.” She tore her gaze away, looking out the window toward the river.
“Sara … I know this is more than just a broken engagement.”
She shook her head.
“There isn’t anything you can tell me that will alter how much I love you.”
But you don’t know what it is.
“Sara. Please. Whatever it is, there’s an answer.”
“Not for this. There’s no answer for this.”
“Have you tried God?”
Her heart fluttered even as she answered, “You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me so I can.”
“Years ago,” she began, haltingly at first, “when I was at Boise State … I had an affair. With a married man.”
Her mother said nothing, but Sara sensed her surprise.
“When I found out Dave was married, I ran away.”
“To Denver.” More softly, Kristina added, “Now I understand.”
“I was heartbroken and ashamed.”
“And now Dakota’s learned of this affair? He hasn’t been able to forgive you?”
She met her mother’s eyes, then pulled her hand away and stood up. She walked toward the mantel, looking at the bear figurines that Dakota had helped her unpack nearly five months before. It seemed longer.
“That doesn’t sound like him,” Kristina said softly.
“No, he could forgive that. He knew that I’d had an affair.” She faced her mother again. “But he didn’t know the man I had an affair with was his own father.”
Kristina gasped.
Sara shuddered, the renewed reality of her confession striking her like a sledgehammer. When she spoke again, agony thinned her voice until it was nearly inaudible. “I didn’t know who Dakota was. I didn’t know he was Dave’s son. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change it. I can’t marry him. Claire … knows who I am.”
A groan was torn from her throat as she fell to her knees.
“Oh, Mama. Oh, Mama.” She bent forward at the waist, touching her forehead to the floor. “Why won’t God let me die?”
Kevin kept his expression neutral while he listened. But he was silently, frantically praying for guidance and wisdom the whole time. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined such a tangled web as the story Claire was spinning for him.
“Well?” She asked when she finally ran out of both words and rage. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
Tell the truth in love, beloved.
Oh, Father, can she handle the truth?
Tell the truth in love.
Jesus, You’ll have to give me the right words. I’m out of my depth here.
Looking at Claire, seeing the despair in her eyes, he knew what he was about to say could drive a wedge between them that could never be removed. But still he had to speak it.
“Tell me, did Dave play ball with his son before the divorce? Was he involved in father-son things before he walked out on the two of you?”
“What?” She seemed confused by his questions.
“Was Dave close to Dakota? Did they do things together?”
She was silent a long while, and he guessed she was searching through memories.
“No,” she answered at long last. “Only rarely.”
Next came an even tougher question. “And did you ever suspect him of having other affairs?”
“That isn’t any of your business.” She closed her eyes, shutting him out.
“Did you suspect him?”
“Yes. Yes, I did suspect him. But we were working things out. Things were better between us until she came along.”
He knew she was lying, but to herself rather than to him. He also knew he couldn’t let up. He had to force her to see the whole truth, whether she wanted to see it or not.
He covered her hand with his, causing her to meet his gaze again.
“Tell me. Did Sara make him not pay child support or never see his son? Was it her fault, the type of man he was?”
“Why are you defending her?” The raw ache in her voice revealed her wounded spirit.
“I’m not defending what she did, Claire. But are you looking at the splinter in her eye when there’s a log in your own?”
She stiffened. “I was never unfaithful. I was a good wife. I’m the injured person here. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t anyone see that?”
Sara’s mother held her as she wept. She didn’t condemn her. She didn’t express horror or disgust or even disappointment. She simply held her in arms of love.
When Sara’s tears subsided, Kristina said, “Darling, your heart is broken, and judging from Dakota at church yesterday, so is his.” She drew back, cupping Sara’s chin in her hand. “But I want you to think about this. If you look in the Bible, you will find great tragedy but never true despair. Instead, there’s tremendous hope, no matter what the situation.”
What can I hope for? I’ve lost Dakota.
“God is greater, Sara.”
“Claire hates me.”
“But God doesn’t.”
PART 7
Forgiving
So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved,
put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness
and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving
each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone;
just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you.
Colossians 3:12 – 13
FORTY-TWO
JUNE
Normally, June was Claire’s favorite month. She loved the warmer weather, the long days of sunshine, and the blue skies. She loved taking walks in her neighborhood or along the greenbelt in the evening, as the temperature began to cool. She loved the glorious sunsets, watching as heaven’s paintbrush turned clouds from pristine white to brilliant orange, blood red, soft lavender, and delicate pink. She loved the distinctive cry of the killdeer as they faked broken wings and ran across horse pastures. She loved the sweet green smell of new growth.
But this June was different. A dark cloud of gloom covered the days and took pleasure from her normal summer pursuits.
She missed Kevin. He’d returned to Seattle, and although he called her several times a week, it wasn’t the same as his being there. And despite his declaration of love, she knew he was waiting for her to let go of her bitterness before their relationship could move forward.
She missed the comfortable bond she’d once shared with her son. Dakota frequently came to see her, but things weren’t the same. She knew he loved her and would go on loving her, no matter what. And in her heart she recognized that she held the key to her son’s happiness. Because she also knew that he still loved Sara.
More than anything else, she missed the feeling of God’s nearness. She knew the fault was her own, yet she couldn’t seem to change, for to change she would have to admit her own responsibility, and that she was not ready to do.
Sara sought answers in the Bible. She had loved God’s Word from the beginning of her Christian walk, and she knew she needed spiritual food to sustain her now.
Perhaps she hoped to find a passage that would make her forget the look in Claire Conway’s eyes as the two of them had stood near the escalator at the Bon. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed; that look of sheer hatred lingered in Sara’s thoughts.
The Forgiving Hour Page 27