by Davis, Mary
She wished he had told her something she could sink her teeth into; then she would know how to feel, instead of this limbo. She yanked open her van door and sat in the driver’s seat, not wanting to go home. Why me, Lord? Why is all this happening to me?
Roger left the restaurant about five minutes later. She saw him scanning the parking lot. He seemed surprised she was still there. He stood for a minute staring at her. She thought he would come over, but he climbed on his motorcycle and rode away.
Why should she think he would come over to her? To talk? He had apparently chosen not to tell her anything.
❧
Roger slipped in the back of the church. He had followed Jackie and her parents to see which church they would attend, but he hadn’t needed to; they attended the same church as always. He sat in the far back closest to the door for a quick exit. Some people here might recognize him, and he didn’t want to be greeted. This was how he’d attended church the last two and a half years: come late, leave early, sit in the back. He was rarely noticed except by the pastor and never greeted. He wanted to belong again, not always be an outsider.
He could see the back of Jackie’s head where she sat near the front with her parents. He should be up there with her, but now was not the time.
Jackie’s accusations and distrust had cut him to the core. He never imagined she would suspect he was unfaithful. Even if he had told her the whole truth, would she believe him? Had too much happened for her to trust him again?
If she can’t trust me even a little, Lord, then this is all doomed to failure. Please let her know she can trust me.
He shouldn’t have accused her back. This was harder than when he was away. At least then he thought Jackie trusted and loved him. Now he realized the cost of his desire to see justice served. He may have lost Jackie for good.
He watched Jackie rather than listened to the sermon. During the closing song he slipped out.
❧
Sunday night Jackie caressed RJ’s back until his breathing was even. When she was sure he was asleep, she scooted off his bed and went upstairs for the movie. Her parents had rented an old musical. She could smell the popcorn all the way in the basement.
Her father was reaching in the cupboard for bowls to put the popcorn in. “How are you doing, Honey?”
“Fine. Why do you ask?” She took the bowls from him.
“Well, a lot has gone on in your life lately, and I just figured you two had a fight.”
She knew he meant between her and Roger, not her and her mother. “Why do you say that?”
“You came home early last night, and you’ve been moping around all day.”
“I have not been moping.”
“You’ve been unusually quiet, and we had to do a lot of talking to get you to come up for a movie.” He opened the microwave and pulled out the bag of popcorn.
She sighed. “We didn’t exactly fight. I said some things I wish I hadn’t, and I’m sure he did too.”
“Sounds like a fight to me.” He poured even amounts of popcorn in each bowl.
“I just thought he would come by today to talk about it.”
“Has he told you his plans?”
“Not really.” She picked up two of the bowls in one hand and one in the other.
Her dad retrieved three sodas out of the refrigerator. “What do you want, Honey? Do you want him back?”
“I don’t know.” She walked into the living room. “I do but on my terms. Not unconditionally.”
“That’s understandable.” He put the sodas on the coffee table.
“I demanded answers and accused him of being with someone else.”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting the truth. As his wife you have a right to know. You need to know what it is you have to overcome.”
Her life was so confusing. “I don’t know what I want. I just wish I could go back and stop him from leaving in the first place.” She laid her head on the back of the couch. “Where’s Mom?”
“Putting on her nightgown. She likes to be comfortable.”
Her mother came out then, and they started the movie.
Jackie sat there watching the movie, but she had no idea what was going on. She kept rehashing the fight, yes, fight, she’d had with Roger the night before. Looking back, maybe she wanted to fight, wanted to make him mad in hopes he would blurt out the truth. She second-guessed everything she’d said and didn’t say. Why would he feel he could tell her anything when she didn’t believe him and attacked him? He had been hurt, deeply so, at her accusation of infidelity. She didn’t understand the hurt in his eyes until he turned her accusation back on her. How deep it cut.
Then he drove away. She had pushed and pushed until he left. Was he gone for good? She had expected to see him today, but there was no sign of him. None. It was as if he had never returned, except she was looking for him now. And he wasn’t there.
She stood up from the couch. “I’m going to bed.”
Her father pushed the pause button on the remote. “But the movie’s not over yet.”
“I’ll finish it another time.” She plodded down the stairs. She was tired, but she wasn’t going to bed to sleep. She needed a good cry to mourn her loss—a second time.
❧
Roger stepped out of Chestnut Street Church into the wet night, needing to get away before the Sunday night service let out. Another church attended unnoticed. This vagabond lifestyle had worn out its welcome. Not that he had ever wanted it. But since being back with Jackie and his son, he wanted nothing more to do with this kind of existence.
Fortunately the rain had let up for awhile. He had parked his Harley a block away under a tree to keep off most of the rain. He hopped on. He had an appointment to keep and drove the two miles to the rendezvous behind an old, closed-up shopping center. He waited.
If Jackie had been spiteful, his Harley would have been the first thing to go. But then she had thought he was probably dead. Still, the fact she kept it meant more than the cycle itself. He had counted everything lost, including his family. Thank You, Lord. This is the spark of hope I needed. Somewhere deep inside she still loves me, and we will be a family one day.
“Nice toy.”
Roger spun around. “Sweeny.” The man had stepped out from the side of the building.
“Do you have it?” Sweeny looked down his long, narrow nose, his curly, brown hair perfectly in place.
“Not yet.”
Sweeny’s lips twisted into a smug grin. “I have something for you.” He reached inside his front pocket and tossed an envelope at him.
He caught the envelope and opened it. His throat tightened. Inside were photographs of Jackie and RJ the first day he approached them at the park. He was in some of them. There were several pictures of yesterday’s adventure as well. The series where he was walking away from Jackie and RJ to get the diaper bag nearly undid him. He’d sensed it. Perhaps the Lord had been warning him. He swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in his throat. He reined in his emotions before looking back at Sweeny. “What’s this supposed to mean?”
“Nice-looking family. I’d hate to see anything happen to them.” Sweeny chuckled. “If I had known about them sooner, I could have been rid of you two and a half years ago.”
“I already told you to leave them out of this. I’ll get it.”
“It’s your own fault.” His voice held a cold edge of irony.
He knew he should have stayed away for Jackie and RJ’s safety, but he had been compelled to come and look. What could it hurt? It had been his downfall, the opening Sweeny needed to find his weakness. And when he was so close to wrapping up his troubles, Sweeny along with them, and coming home for good.
Sweeny squinted his beady eyes. “This isn’t nursery school, Villeroy. Your time is running out.”
Roger squeezed his hands into hard fists. If Sweeny hurt either one of them, he’d tear him apart with his bare hands. Sweeny already had Moore’s blood on his hands. And only the Lord knew
how many others. But it wasn’t just Sweeny he was after. He wanted the ones at the other end of his leash. This had gone higher than even Moore had realized. His death would not be in vain.
Seven
By Monday morning, Jackie scurried around still second-guessing everything she’d said to Roger. No word at all from him on Sunday. She realized she had no way to contact him. Had she pushed him away with her insistent probing the other night at dinner? Was he staying in a hotel or with a friend? Did he even have friends? In their year of marriage she couldn’t recall his mentioning any friends. She was so blissfully in love she hadn’t noticed anyone, only Mr. Moore, whom she couldn’t find when Roger disappeared. But there was Someone who knew where he was.
Lord, please bring him here today. This is the day Roger needs to be here. Today of all days. I know I asked over and over for You to bring him home. I know I seemed unappreciative, but I’m not. Today please do it for RJ.
Jackie went upstairs with RJ and set him in the high chair with a cut-up apple in front of him. She pulled out a chocolate cake mix and prepared it. As she was spooning the batter into the paper-lined cupcake pan, the doorbell rang. She put down the bowl and licked her fingers on the way to the door. Her heart danced at the sight of him, and for a moment, she stared and forgot to breathe. He was here. He was really here. She wouldn’t push him again.
“These are for you.” He held out a pair of kissing penguins. “I didn’t see your collection but assume you still have it.”
She took them and pulled their magnetic beaks apart. “They’re in my bedroom.”
“I’m sorry for the other night.”
“Me too.” A long moment of awkward silence stretched between them. “Do you want to come in?”
He followed her into the kitchen.
“Hi,” RJ said from the high chair.
Roger ruffled his hair. “Hey, Kiddo. What do you have there?”
He held out a chunk of apple to Roger. “Appoe.”
“That looks like a good apple.”
“He appoe. He appoe.”
Roger looked up at her, helpless. She enjoyed this father-and-son exchange. “He’s giving you the apple.”
Roger turned back to RJ. “I’m not hungry. You eat it.”
“He appoe.”
“I’ll take the apple.” Jackie held out her hand for it.
RJ pulled it back. “No. Daddy appoe.”
She looked at Roger, stunned. She thought she could detect more moisture than usual in his gray eyes as he reached out for the gift.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to eat it,” she mouthed to him.
“I like apples.” He popped it in his mouth.
RJ smiled and went back to gnawing away at his apple pieces.
She smiled at Roger too.
Roger chewed and swallowed the bite of apple; then he held out a store-wrapped package with clowns on it. “When should I give him his birthday present? I’d like to be here when he opens it.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know it’s his birthday? I never told you I was pregnant.”
“I was at the hospital the day after he was born,” he said.
“You were?” She had sensed his presence but chalked it up to wishful dreaming and the euphoria of a new healthy baby, especially after all the difficulties during her pregnancy and the fear of almost losing RJ. “Why didn’t you come to see me?”
He shrugged. “It was best.”
“Best?” she asked sharply. “Like you were ‘away’? Best for whom?”
He sighed.
“Never mind.” She let out her breath, hoping she could push the pain away for now. Today was not the day to dwell on it. Roger was here now, and she would be happy with that. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that today.” She turned back to the counter and plopped batter into the cupcake pan. This was RJ’s day, and she would not spoil it with demands she probably wouldn’t get direct answers to anyway.
“I also know that RJ stands for Roger, Jr.”
“How do you know the ‘J’ doesn’t stand for his middle name?”
He backed up against the counter, facing her. “Because Cole doesn’t start with a ‘J.’ But what I don’t know is why you moved out of our apartment.”
She had wanted to stay in the apartment; in case he returned he would know where to find her. “I had complications during my pregnancy. I was on total bed rest for three months and had to quit work. I couldn’t live alone and pay the rent.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
She nodded. Not today. This was supposed to be a happy day, and she didn’t want to spoil it with bad memories. But it seemed everything touched on a sore memory; everything was connected. She would focus on the present and deal with the past another time. “Let me get these cupcakes in the oven, and we can go downstairs so RJ can open your gift.” She wanted to be in her living room, not her parents’. She finished spooning the batter and slid the pan in the oven. Then she cleaned up RJ, and the trio headed downstairs.
Roger took off his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the table chairs, then sat on the couch with RJ between them.
“Happy birthday, Kiddo.” He handed his son the package.
RJ scratched at the wrapping paper to find the edge. Jackie turned the package over and slid a finger under the edge so he could find it. Two seconds later, the gift was free of its wrappings.
“Look! A motorcycle just like daddy’s.”
Jackie noticed it wasn’t child-safe. She was glad RJ wasn’t prone to putting toys in his mouth, but she would keep an eye on this one just the same.
The little boy pulled at the packaging but didn’t know how to get the shiny motorcycle out.
“You want Mommy to do that?” Jackie reached for the package.
RJ pulled it away from her and held it up to Roger. “Daddy do it.”
She knew RJ meant nothing by it, but still it hurt. She had been there for the first two years of his life. Roger had showed up only days ago and bonded instantly with his son through a motorcycle ride. She was glad to see RJ connecting with his father, but she still wanted to know he needed her. Deep in her heart she knew he did. But a daddy-cycoe ride was a powerful thing. She knew all too well.
Oblivious to her ache, Roger cut the tape and untwisted the tie that held the motorcycle to the cardboard back. How could he know she hurt? He was no more a mind reader than she was.
RJ held up the toy. “JJ cycoe.” He scooted off the couch. “Rrrr.” The Harley raced all over the living room.
Roger turned to her and smiled. “He’s quite a boy.”
She laughed. “You only say that because he likes motorcycles.”
“Not just any motorcycle—that’s a Harley.” He paused. “Even if he hated motorcycles, I would still think he’s the neatest kid around. You know why?”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Because he is mine.” He gazed lovingly at RJ. “That’s all he ever has to be for me to love him. All he has to do is exist. He doesn’t have to do anything.”
Her eyes filled with tears at his wholehearted love. How could she think Roger wasn’t ready to be a father? A two-and-a-half-year absence. She wanted to believe he was committed to RJ now. She hoped he was as committed to her. It occurred to her RJ may be the only reason he came back. “If RJ hadn’t been born, would you have come back?”
He turned and gazed at her. “Absolutely.”
Her chest loosened. She hadn’t realized it was tight or that she was holding her breath.
He took her hand. “You are the love of my life.” He raised her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. A tingle shot up her arm. He caressed her cheek. Her insides fluttered. He had that look he got when he was about to kiss her. But he didn’t move toward her. His hand slipped to her shoulder, and he leaned a little closer, tentatively.
Suddenly Jackie jumped. She looked down and saw a diaper in her lap and RJ standi
ng in front of her.
RJ wrinkled his nose. “Icky.”
She wrinkled her nose, too. “I can tell.” She knew he hated a messy diaper. She stood and turned toward Roger. He had a look of disappointment on his face. “I’ll be right back.” She followed RJ down the hall to his room.
After Jackie changed his diaper, RJ ran out, squeezing by Roger who had come to stand in the bedroom doorway. She felt her face grow warm. “I should go out there. He might get into something.”
Roger stepped aside and followed her back into the living room. RJ was racing his Harley on the coffee table.
The timer sounded from the kitchen, and Jackie hurried upstairs to pull the cupcakes out of the oven and let them cool. When she returned, she picked up RJ’s photo album and sat on the couch. “I want to show you this.”
Roger sat next to her, and she opened the album cover onto his lap.
The first picture was the hospital photo. RJ’s tiny hands were in tight little fists next to his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his skin tinged with a yellow cast. It had taken a month of light therapy and a lot of prayer to clear up his jaundice. She pointed out pictures of RJ lying on the couch, some with her holding him, others of him on the floor, then a few of him propped up in the baby swing. In all of them, RJ’s eyes were shut, and he was sleeping. She flipped the page. More sleeping baby pictures. She hadn’t realized how many pictures she had taken. She hadn’t wanted to miss anything.
Being sick, RJ had slept more than normal for a newborn. He only woke up to eat, and barely for that. He usually fell asleep while nursing and never ate enough.
She flipped another page. Finally a picture with RJ awake. He was looking over her shoulder as she tried to burp him. Her mother had taken the picture. She flipped the page.
“Hold on—not so fast.” Roger turned back a page.
“There are more interesting ones, ones where he’s actually awake.”
“They’re all interesting to me.” He leaned over to catch a better look at the photos on the page resting on her lap. Then he turned the page.
They looked at more photos of RJ asleep and a few of him awake. In all but one, someone was holding RJ—Grandma, Grandpa, or Jackie.