With You Always

by Rena Olsen

  Nancy stepped forward and hugged me, her arms stiff, her embrace cold. “Once you and Bryce talk through everything, let’s have dinner to celebrate. I can’t wait to start designing the nursery!” With a wave and a swirl of expensive perfume, she was gone.

  As soon as her car engine started out front, I sank back into the kitchen chair and buried my face in my hands. My entire being was a riot of emotions, bombarding every part of me. My thoughts, my beliefs, everything was suddenly cast into the harshest light possible, the light of questioning and doubt, things I’d learned over the past year and a half never to allow into my heart. But now that they were there, I had a difficult time dispelling them.

  * * *

  —

  Dinner was ready by the time Bryce got home a few hours later. The table was set and I was pulling the dish out of the oven when the garage door opened. I continued what I was doing, ignoring my husband as he stepped inside and dropped his briefcase on the counter, though my heart hammered in my chest. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he put two sets of keys on the key hooks, and as he stepped into the kitchen and pulled his phone out of his pocket to plug into the charger before pulling my phone out of his briefcase and setting it next to his.

  He stood watching me as I carried the casserole and side dishes to the table, and as I filled the water glasses. I’d decided we would eat in the kitchen tonight. I wasn’t ready to be with him in the dining room again. I was surprised when he silently took his seat instead of berating me for my attitude. I expected some sort of commentary on my unwifely behavior, but he simply waited for me to take my seat across from him before holding out his hand.

  “Let’s pray, darling,” he said, and I hesitantly placed my palm in his.

  His grip was firm as he began to pray. “Dear God, thank you for this food that was prepared for us, for the gentle hands that made this meal possible, and for the generous feet that brought it directly to our door.” His hand tightened around mine. “We pray that you would be with us despite the toxic spirit that lies between us, and that you would speak truth to our souls so that our lips would speak truth to each other.” My fingers were tingling, losing feeling, and still he squeezed tighter, ignoring my efforts to loosen his hold. “We pray forgiveness for the words and deeds that led us here, and that you would be present as we take responsibility and change the plans you have laid out for us.” I could no longer concentrate on the words coming from Bryce’s mouth as my fingers were crushed in his hand. My eyes popped open to find him watching me even as he prayed. The iciness I saw in them frightened me more than the increasing pressure on my fingers, but I refused to cry out. Instead, I bit the inside of my cheek until finally, mercifully, he released my fingers and my gaze. “Amen.”

  Without another word, Bryce began eating as I cradled my hand in my lap. Refusing to let him see weakness, I took my fork in my left hand and ate as well, though the casserole was tasteless. After we’d eaten in silence for a few minutes, Bryce finally spoke.

  “It was nice of Nancy to bring a casserole.”

  I nodded. “It was.”

  “You should be able to make it to the store tomorrow.”

  “Will I?”

  “Yes, Julia.” He tone reflected irritation. “I only took your keys today to make sure you didn’t do something drastic before we had a chance to talk.”

  “We could have talked last night.”

  “I wasn’t in a good place to talk last night.”

  I took another bite, chewing slowly as my anger burned. “And you’re in a good place to talk now?”

  “I think it’s important that we do talk.”

  “Okay.” I put my fork down and gave him my full attention. “What shall we talk about?”

  “We’re having a baby.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “We are.”

  “That’s going to change things around here.”

  “Indeed.”

  He wiped his mouth, narrowing his eyes at me. “Are you being purposely disrespectful, or is this a side effect of pregnancy?”

  Widening my eyes, I gave him my most innocent look. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful at all. I’m just trying to follow your lead. How would you like me to respond?”

  “What are we supposed to do now, Julia?” Bryce asked, and I saw the first chink in his armor. He looked almost . . . sad. Which annoyed me more.

  “Bryce,” I said, leaning forward, earnest. There was still time to salvage the situation, and I was seized by a sudden determination to do just that. I could set aside my anger and disappointment at his reaction if he could set aside his determination to find someone to blame and just be happy about the baby. “I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know if I miscalculated, or if it was a fluke, or a miracle. But I’m not sorry.”

  His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I laid a finger over his lips, surprised when he allowed it.

  “I will apologize for the change in plans, only because I know how important our plans are to you. But maybe . . . maybe this is God’s plan? He doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “But people do.”

  “Fair enough.” I nodded. “But I can’t look at our baby as a mistake, Bryce.” I grabbed his hand with my uninjured one and pulled it to my stomach. “Our baby is in there. A bit of you and a bit of me. What could be better? God will use our baby in amazing ways. I’m sure of it.”

  Bryce’s features softened as he stared at our hands on my stomach, and I saw the moment it became real for him. And the next moment, when the wall went back up. He frowned and snatched his hand away, scooting back and standing up.

  “I have some work to do. I’ll call and make an appointment with Dr. Herbert for next week to see if you’re actually pregnant, and we’ll decide where to go from there.” He stalked out of the kitchen.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I sat back in my chair, deflated. I’d seen him for a moment, the man I married, the man who could be excited about the baby. And then he was gone. Whisked away by this stranger who inhabited Bryce’s body now. Unless the man I married was the myth, and this was the real Bryce. The thought was too depressing to dwell on for long, and I busied myself cleaning up one-handed before wrapping my hand in an ice pack and retiring to my parlor for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter 27

  It had been a while since I’d spent time in the café after church. I’d been either at the Gathering or observing since before the wedding. In some ways I was gratified to see my old Bible study still hung out there after service . . . less so when Jenny gave a vague wave and turned back to the group without greeting me fully. Not that I blamed her—or any of them—for the irritated looks they sent my way. I’d abandoned them for a different group, hadn’t even spoken to most of them in over a year. It would have been ridiculous for me to expect them to welcome me back, to open up as if I’d never left.

  Still, I wished that they had.

  I got a mug of hot tea and sat in a chair in the corner, watching the people in the lobby socialize in groups, hug, laugh, chat, and then eventually trickle out of the building. The Bible study group left, and I was the only one in the café. I knew the barista only stayed because I was still there, but I couldn’t get myself to move, though Nancy had said I could wait at their house.

  I’d been asked not to attend the Gathering for the time being. Not knowing my condition, it wouldn’t be safe for me to attempt Oneness, and given the conflict between Bryce and myself, it might hinder his chance at Oneness if I was in the same room. In fact, Nancy explained, if Dr. Herbert confirmed the pregnancy, I would not be invited back until after the baby was born and I was deemed ready again. Apparently my spirit would be too focused on growing the child to connect with God in the same way. “Pregnancy is its own form of Oneness, Julia,” the Reverend had said. “A beautiful miracle that only women are able to experience. It only makes
sense that you would give Bryce every opportunity to continue communing with God in this way for the duration of your pregnancy.”

  My spirit missed the connection with God. It had become almost an addiction, and so much a staple of my life that I didn’t know what to do with myself, knowing that elsewhere in this building, God was granting His presence to a group of people, but that I wasn’t allowed to be there. Now I knew why they didn’t tell the greater congregation about their Chosen group. It could definitely foster resentment if people knew what they were missing.

  Time slowed to a crawl until Bryce showed up to bring me to lunch with the Reverend and Nancy. He’d barely spoken to me for the rest of the week, but around other people he was as congenial as ever. He tucked my arm under his as we walked through the church, held doors for me, and pulled my chair out for me at lunch.

  Once we’d all been served and prayers had been said, the Reverend looked at us. “How is everything?”

  I wanted to answer, to rant about how Bryce acted like I didn’t exist, how he was acting like a child because I was pregnant and he didn’t want me to be, but instead I looked at Bryce, deferring the question to him.

  “It could be better,” he admitted. “But we’re working through it.”

  I snorted.

  “Julia,” the Reverend said. “That was very unbecoming. Do you have something to add to Bryce’s assessment?”

  Suddenly I felt like I was a teenager again, being scolded by my mother for being rude to my aunt Ruth. “No, Reverend.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I looked at Bryce, and there was warning in his eyes, but a glance at the Reverend sealed my decision. The Reverend’s expression was open, curious, sympathetic, and I wanted him to understand my side. I didn’t want him to think I was just acting immature and refusing to respect my husband. “Actually, I’m very saddened by how this week has gone.”

  “How so, Julia?”

  “I assume you know about our news,” I said, and the Reverend inclined his head to indicate that he did. “I was very excited, and Bryce became so angry that it scared me. He still refuses to talk to me until I take the blame. I don’t feel like he’s fully recognizing what a miracle the baby is, and how God can use every situation to His glory.”

  The Reverend leaned back. “I understand your disappointment, Julia, and I think Bryce does, too.” He folded his hands, searching for the words he wanted to use. “I wonder if you’re being a bit stubborn as well, as you’re accusing Bryce of being.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “Just hear me out, okay?”

  My mouth snapped shut with a click of my teeth and I nodded.

  “God has been very explicit with me and with Bryce about the plans for our lives. It’s a gift that we do not take lightly, as most are stuck blindly feeling their way. It’s like having night vision goggles on a dark path. We know exactly where we are meant to go, and what is waiting for us if we follow our assigned path.”

  “I get that,” I said. “I know that you have a special connection with God, and I respect that.”

  “Good,” the Reverend continued. “And now I need you to hear the next part.” He took a deep breath. “When you became pregnant, it was like you grabbed Bryce by the arm and yanked him off the path he was trying to lead you down. He could see the path, see the goal, in a way that you couldn’t possibly understand, and now you’ve pulled him off the path, into the brambles, and along a path that was not laid out by God. It will take some adjustment for him to accept that this is the path he’s on now.”

  Bryce had been silent during the Reverend’s explanation, but now he turned to me, genuine emotion in his eyes for the first time since I’d announced the pregnancy. “I wish I could have explained it that well. I don’t mean to take it out on you, Julia, but your carelessness has pointed us in a direction that is . . . unexpected. I promise I will try to do better, but I need your understanding as well.”

  I almost had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming when he mentioned my carelessness, but I knew that would just get us back to where we started, so instead I nodded. “I’m sorry,” I said, the words tasting like vomit on their way out. “I’ll try harder.”

  And I would. As much as I resented making the apology, I knew it was necessary to move forward. I needed Bryce’s support for the pregnancy, and the baby needed him to be a proud and happy father. So I would swallow my pride for the sake of my child.

  But I was more determined than ever to figure out my husband’s past, and why everyone was so intent on hiding it from me.

  Chapter 28

  I waited until things calmed down a bit before putting my plan into action. If everything went well, I could talk to the woman who had sent the letters, figure out what Bryce was hiding, and hopefully move on. I prayed it was something minor that he was simply embarrassed about. But I knew I couldn’t move forward without figuring it out, and there was no way I could talk to Bryce about it again.

  Bryce was a little less crabby than he had been when I first told him about the pregnancy, but little things would still set him off. I stayed to my own corners of the house for the most part, except when we ate dinner and when we slept. After getting the confirmation from Dr. Herbert that I was, indeed, pregnant, the first thing Bryce wanted to know was about sexual activity. The good doctor had clapped him on the back and assured him that it was completely safe to resume activity, which Bryce took to heart as soon as we got home from the appointment.

  There was no connection anymore, however. He was emotionally distant from me in a way that he’d never been before. He used my body, but it was just sex. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I could just figure out his past, I could reconnect with him so that we could look forward to a brighter future.

  The morning my plan was to take effect was like any other morning. I made Bryce breakfast and he grunted a thank-you before opening the paper. Twenty minutes later and he was out the door. Normally I would have started with a workout and progressed to chores, but instead I grabbed my purse and jumped in the car once I was sure Bryce had a good head start.

  I hadn’t driven out of the city since our honeymoon, hadn’t even been out of our neighborhood in months. My bubble had grown very small, and as I passed the city limits and sped into the open countryside, it felt a bit like flying. I turned the radio up and appreciated the rolling hills and curving roads. I allowed my mind to wander away from the church and Bryce and everything that kept me pinned down, and I imagined that I lived out here, in the open air, that I was free to run barefoot through the grass or sit in a sheep pen and read a book. Free to be dirty, to be frivolous, to waste time.

  Too soon, I started seeing signs for Meadowsville. Population eight hundred. According to the GPS on the car, the address on the envelopes was on the outer edges of the town, almost out in the country, but still in view of the town. I drove slowly through the town, surprised at how dusty and grungy it looked compared to the countryside. There was a diner that appeared to be the only eating establishment in town, and a small grocery store. A seedy-looking motel completed the main street area, and then I was driving back out of the town. I crested a hill, and at the bottom stood a lonely-looking shack under the shade of a giant tree.

  Bingo.

  I parked in front of the house and sat in the car, squinting at the windows to see if there was any sign of life. A curtain fluttered, and a dog barked. There were no neighbors to speak of, as if the very town stayed as far away from this house as it could. Taking a deep breath, I screwed up my courage and got out of the car. A crude cement pathway led through a gate, which was falling off its hinges, and up to a faded green door behind a tattered screen door. The lawn was dotted with piles of dog poop, as if no one could be bothered to clean up after the animal. As I passed under the tree, I saw the remains of what may have been a tree house at one point, though only a few boards hung from the
branches.

  Once I approached, the dog inside started barking with enthusiasm.

  “Shut up, ya mutt!” someone screamed at him.

  Before I could knock, the inner door swung open. A woman filled the doorway, peering at me through the screen door, wearing faded jeans and a Mickey Mouse T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back, but graying strands that had escaped the rubber band hung limply around her face. The wrinkles in her face were deep, and the skin sagged as if her face used to fill it out better. She took a drag from her cigarette, emphasizing the hollowness of her cheekbones. “Yeah?”

  I smoothed the front of my blouse nervously. I’d wanted to dress nice, but not too nice; however, I wished I’d worn a pair of jeans. Or even sweat pants. My yellow capris and white blouse were a violent contrast to her outfit. “Are you Harriet Schmit?”

  “Who’s askin’?”

  My fingers shook as I extended a hand. “My name is Julia Covington,” I said. “I’m married to Bryce Covington.” I searched her face for any sign of recognition, but she remained dispassionate. Her face was somewhat shadowed, and I took a tiny step back, hoping she would reflect my movements.

  “So?” she said, staying where she was. “That fancy-pants name s’posed to impress me?” She turned around. “Bruno! Shut up!” The dog had continued barking but it was muffled. “Locked him in the bedroom. He hates that but I didn’t figure you’d want dog prints all over that pretty outfit.”

  “Th-thank you,” I said, clearing my throat. “Um, do you think I could come in?”

  She regarded me, leaning forward to peer around me and look at my car. I gasped when I saw her eyes. Only one other person had eyes that blue. Eyes that were pinned to me after I made the noise. “What did you say you needed, Miss, uh . . .”

  “Covington,” I said. “Mrs. Julia Covington. Um.” I should have rehearsed this part. I was so focused on getting here, I didn’t give much thought to what I would say. “Listen, Ms. Schmit.”