Homestands (Chicago Wind #1)

by Sally Bradley

  “You okay?”

  No. Every part of her wanted to drop to the floor and give up.

  “Meg?”

  She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and shook the damp shells into the trash. One triangular piece stuck to her palm. She slid her nail beneath it and flicked it into the garbage. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

  “Liar.”

  She closed the cabinet door with a bang, softening the action with a smile. “Sometimes I hate how well you know me.” She washed her hands. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Great. She sounded like Mike.

  “I understand. You and Mike are going through a lot. We pray for you two every day.”

  Words that comforted in the past now grated. “You pray for Mike?”

  “Yes,” Jill said, dragging out the word. “Don’t you?”

  “He doesn’t deserve it.” She shrugged. “Neither of us deserves it. You should stop.” She picked up the crouton bag, a salad dressing, and the bowl of tomatoes and walked past Jill to set them on the table.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just decided I don’t like Mike.” She slid into a chair and folded her hands on the tabletop, meeting Jill’s eyes at last.

  “That’s a change, isn’t it?”

  “Well…” she hedged. “Maybe it was up in the air before, but now I know. I know I don’t.” His answers flashed through her mind—the women, their relationships, the role she’d played.

  “You found something out, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  Jill sat down opposite her. “As long as you’re talking with God.”

  Talking to God wasn’t possible. How could he listen to her? Had he ever listened to her?

  Tears threatened, and as she’d done all day, she forced them back. “I’m hungry, and my blood sugar’s low. I promise I’ll smile after we eat.”

  “All right. Why don’t you pray?”

  Not tonight. “You pray.”

  Jill did, including in her prayer a request for wisdom for Meg and Mike.

  Meg’s tears escaped. Cascaded down her face.

  Jill flew around the table and wrapped Meg in her arms.

  Meg rested her head on Jill’s shoulder and let the sobs take over.

  Everything she’d learned was too much. The fault in their marriage lay at her feet. She’d driven Mike away, and he’d never looked back. He’d turned to other women, and one of them—

  “Jill, it’s my fault.”

  “What is?”

  “I was so caught up with myself, and I lost him. Because of me, he had that affair. Because of me, one of them—” The truth gagged her, but she opened her mouth for air, forcing out the horrible words. “She had an abortion.”

  Her hands were coated with her tears, coated with a child’s blood.

  “Who, Meg?”

  “One of his girlfriends—” The rawness of her words tore through her. From behind her, she heard Terrell run across the linoleum, but she couldn’t stop. “Because of me, a baby died.”

  “Terrell, go back to your movie.” Jill’s voice was firm. “Your mom will be fine.”

  What a lie. She’d never be fine.

  Terrell must have obeyed because Jill turned back to her. “That’s not your fault, Meg.”

  “Yes, it is! If I had loved Mike, he wouldn’t have left. He wouldn’t have… have slept with that woman. She wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, and that baby wouldn’t have been killed. How is that not my fault?”

  Jill left her chair, returning seconds later with a Kleenex box.

  Meg took a handful. “What do I do?” Hopelessness seeped into her words. “How do I talk to Mike? Half of me wants to tell him how sorry I am, and the other half is so mad at him.”

  “Meg, you did not kill that baby. There’s another woman who will answer for that.”

  “But I started everything.”

  “You are responsible for your actions, and that’s what you need to deal with.”

  “My selfishness.” She wiped her cheeks and nose, her foundation smearing on the Kleenex. “It sounds petty, but that selfishness has done so much.”

  “That’s the way sin works. What starts out tiny grows until it brings consequences. My mom used to say that sin, no matter how little, brings pain.”

  “But for how long? When does it stop?”

  “Some of that depends on you, Meg.”

  Sounds of Samuel waking came from the baby monitor on the counter. Jill glanced at it. “I’ve got thirty seconds before he drowns us out so I’ll make this quick.”

  “Okay.”

  “Mike’s not dating other women.”

  “Okay,” Meg repeated.

  “What I’m saying is—he’s trying to reconcile. With you.”

  Her meaning sunk in. Meg sank in her chair, letting go of Jill’s hand. “You’re telling me to marry him, just like that?”

  “No, I’m not—”

  “He’s not a Christian, Jill!”

  “I know that. Meg, listen before you get mad at me.”

  How could her best friend say these things? “You don’t know how much hurt he’s caused me. Forgive him, after everything he’s told me? You don’t know what I know.”

  “You’re right, Meg. I don’t. But Mike is trying to make up for everything he’s done. Clark thinks he’s sincerely sorry.”

  “Mike should be sorry.”

  “But what about you?”

  Meg clenched her teeth, her hands, her toes.

  “You have to forgive him.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Then you’ll be continuing the consequences. God tells us to forgive, Meg. When someone asks for forgiveness, we forgive. If you continue like this, you’ll be sinning. First it was selfishness with its results. This time it will be anger, and its results will follow. Who will they hurt? You? Mike? Terrell?”

  On the monitor, Samuel reached a full roar.

  Meg covered her face with her hands. No one understood. Jill’s marriage was too simple for her to understand how badly she hurt.

  “Meg.” Jill gripped her arms. “I know this is hard, but I’m telling you this because I don’t want to see you live with pain. Forgiving Mike will be freeing, and while there will still be hurt from the past, you won’t be entertaining hurt in the future.”

  “I can’t, Jill.” She asked too much. For that matter, so did God.

  “I have to get Samuel. Think about it. If you want to talk some more, we’ll talk.”

  Not today, they wouldn’t. Meg would eat dinner and take Terrell home. After a week like this, she wanted to do nothing but sit alone in silence.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The Wind’s weekend home games were against the cross-town White Sox. Mike took Terrell and Clark to Saturday’s afternoon game and gave Clark a tour of the Wind’s stadium, introducing him to some of the team.

  As on Friday, the White Sox won. Mike tried to let another Wind loss roll off him just like he tried to avoid the division’s standings.

  After the game, Clark grilled a late dinner of burgers and brats. Meg sat across the table from Mike, staring at nothing while she toyed with her food. When the meal was over, she and Jill vanished to her office to work on the kitchen design. Terrell and his toys took a bath.

  The sun dipped behind the trees, and chunks of gold and gaudy orange peeked between the leaves. Mike stretched out on his usual deck chair. Beside him, Clark turned up the baby monitor that sat between them.

  Samuel, in bed for the night, jabbered to himself.

  “I heard Meg say you’re watching Terrell,” Clark said. “When’s that?”

  “Monday. She’s working with a client out my way.”

  Clark hid a yawn with one hand, then tucked it behind his head. “That’s a good sign.”

  “You’d think.” More like her way of giving him time with Terrell without having to see him herself.

  “You don’t sound sure
.”

  “No, I’m sure. It’s not a good sign.”

  “Why not?”

  Mike shrugged. Another conversation he didn’t want to have. “She found out what a jerk I’ve been.” He lowered his eyes to the hangnail that had yet to heal. “So did I.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That I understand why she hates me.” He shrugged again, feeling his heart’s pain in every joint. “I’ve hurt her pretty badly.”

  “But that doesn’t mean Meg hates you.”

  He shot Clark a look. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

  Above the trees, an airplane followed the now-familiar path to the airport, its wheels lowering before it disappeared. Mike looked to his right, waiting for the next plane to appear in the sky.

  “So Meg hates you. Is she being unreasonable?”

  “Nope.” He spotted the plane, a distant silver speck.

  “Hmm.”

  The plane grew to bullet size, the logo visible on the tail. “You wouldn’t understand, Clark. You’re one of those guys who’d never—”

  “Stop it.” Clark held up a hand. “Pastors are men too. I get tired of people thinking we’re above everyone else.”

  “You’re capable of murder?”

  The shock Mike expected did not register on Clark’s face. “We all are.”

  “Really. Well, not everyone does it.”

  “You murder someone?”

  There went the landing gear. Here came the sound of the engines. The plane disappeared behind the trees. Mike took a deep breath. “Not exactly.”

  Clark said nothing.

  Mike waited for the next plane to appear, watched it grow until it crossed in front of them, lowered its wheels, and descended out of sight.

  Still, Clark said nothing.

  Mike’s thoughts tumbled from his mouth. “Have you ever hurt so badly you wanted to give up?”

  “Is that how you feel?”

  “Worse lately.” He tugged on the hangnail, ignoring the sharp jump of pain. “Actually, worse since I started going to your church.”

  Clark chuckled.

  “Oh, real funny.”

  “Sorry.” He swung his legs to the deck and faced Mike. “Why are you feeling worse?”

  “It’s this guilt. I’ve hurt Meg, I’ve hurt Terrell, I’ve hurt a child I’ll never know. I see Meg react to what I’ve done to her, and…” He dropped his head against the chair. “I look over the last decade of my life, and I think what have I done? I’ve hit homers, I’ve stolen bases, I’ve made money.” He shrugged. “But inside, I—” He stopped at the tremor in his voice and took a deep breath. “I wish I could change everything.”

  This time the deep breath did not help. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Mike, you don’t have to live with guilt.”

  What a joke that was. “I’ve had six years to forget about Meg and five years to forget about my child, and it hasn’t happened. And I don’t see it happening. You know what I see? Meg hating me for the rest of my life. I see Terrell growing up to realize what a loser he has for a dad.”

  “You don’t know the future.”

  “You’re right. It could be worse.” He yanked again at the stubborn hangnail. He deserved the pain. “You know what I’ve learned about myself?”

  “What?”

  “That I’m a horrible person. All those people who asked for my autograph today—I wanted to tell them they were crazy. There isn’t anything good about me.”

  “You’re right.”

  Mike squinted at Clark. “You don’t have to agree so quickly.”

  Clark ignored him. “Everything you’ve said is the first step toward changing.”

  “Please don’t tell me there are eleven more.” There he went, making jokes. Mike let his hands fall onto the armrests. “Sorry. Go on. I think.”

  “You’ve told me you believe in God.”

  He nodded. God seemed pretty obvious.

  “Do you know that God says there is no one who’s done good, that all of our good works are like dirty rags? Not just you, Mike. Everyone. Me, Jill, Meg, Terrell.”

  “Can’t say that I see that in you, but we’ve established that I’m not perfect.”

  “No one is. We’ve all fallen short of God’s glory. It’s like this. Let’s say you and I go to your stadium. We each have to hit a ball out of the park.”

  “Okay.”

  “You go first. You hit a ball that lands on the warning track. Almost a home run. Pretty good. Then I get to bat.”

  “If I can hit a ball to the warning track,” Mike joked, gesturing to his cast, “you can hit a home run.”

  “Let’s say I do. It lands in the bleachers, back row. I got farther than you, but I still failed to hit the ball out of the park. So what does it matter who did better? We both fell short of the goal.”

  The image made him think. “You’re saying it doesn’t matter how good you are.”

  “It’s not what I say, Mike. It’s what the Bible says. We all fall short. Are there people who live better lives than others? Sure. But the sin we all have keeps us all from God.”

  Inside, sin coated Mike. Every day he lived with its weight. But how did he get rid of it? “You’re not making me feel better.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I want you to see the truth. The truth is what changes you.”

  Could he change? “Clark, I understand enough to know that if I believed what you believe, I’d have to completely change my life.”

  Clark held his gaze. “Is the way you’re living that great?”

  Mike opened his mouth, closed it.

  “All these things you’re realizing about yourself, all the sin you’ve done—that keeps you from God. He’s holy, Mike. Perfect. He created a perfect world, and we destroyed it and each other. God has every right to let us go on in the mess we made. To face the consequences of our sin. But he loves us. He made a way for us to be free of the guilt. Free to have a second chance.”

  A second chance. Mike sat up in his chair. “I’m listening.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Somehow Mike made it to the Sunday evening service.

  Meg had not expected him—the Wind’s afternoon game had gone into extra innings—but he must have left as soon as the game ended. He pulled into the church parking lot just as she and Terrell reached the main doors.

  It had been nice, sitting alone with Terrell in the morning service. Mike had been at the stadium, working out with the trainers, then with the team during the game. Now he sat beside her, fidgeting as if his seat were upholstered with steel wool. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with his palm, blowing another deep breath from puffed-out cheeks. What was the matter with him?

  Every movement was characteristic of Mike on edge. He’d acted the same on draft day while they’d waited for a major league team to call. He’d been like this in the Virginia Burger King when he’d asked her to marry him.

  Mike sat back hard, and Meg’s seat jiggled.

  Why was he nervous?

  The piano began the closing song, and Meg stood with everyone else. The head pastor gave his usual invitation.

  Mike pulled his hand from his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut.

  Around her people began to sing, but Meg could not. Surely Mike wasn’t—

  A laugh welled up in her throat, but she held it back at the misery on his face. She had to be mistaken. Mike wouldn’t—

  No. This couldn’t be.

  She gripped the seatback until her knuckles turned white. If Mike became a Christian, everything would change. Terrell, Jill, Clark—they’d all expect her to marry him and would never understand why she didn’t. Mike would end up the good guy, and she’d be labeled a bitter, unforgiving—

  He shifted in place.

  She caught her breath, holding it until she was sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Still, his fingers drummed the top of the chair
in front of him.

  The song played on, and Meg held herself motionless, watching his fingers fight to release his tension.

  The song finally ended. Pastor prayed, said amen. People turned, gathering their things. Conversations built around them.

  It was over, and Mike still stood beside her.

  Maybe she’d read him wrong. She bent to pick up her purse and Bible. Of course she’d read him wrong. Mike would never—

  “Meg.”

  His voice startled her, and she straightened, cracking her head against his chin. “Ow.” She held a hand to the top of her head. “What?”

  “I need to talk to someone.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got to find Clark.” He looked past her, searching the wide auditorium. “Do you see him?” His eyes halted on a spot beyond her. “There he is.”

  Mike strode up the aisle, his focus glued to the far wall where Clark laughed and talked with a young couple. He hurried along the back wall, giving a distracted smile and nod to the many who said hello before honing in on Clark.

  She couldn’t stand to watch. Not when everything was about to change. She clutched her Bible to her chest. “Let’s go home, Terrell.”

  An hour later, Mike’s Range Rover pulled into her drive. Clark stepped out of the passenger’s side and walked with Mike to her front door, the two of them smiling, laughing, as they talked.

  Meg’s heart sank.

  Which was horrible. How could she be upset about this?

  Yet there it was. She did not want to talk to him. Not right now.

  She opened her front door, a smile pasted on her face, and the men stepped inside.

  Meg studied Mike. All the tension from earlier was gone, and his eyes—even his eyes smiled.

  Clark broke the silence. “Meg, we’ve been talking with Pastor. Mike wants to tell you what’s happened.”

  He didn’t need to tell her; she already knew.

  But Mike ducked his head, a smile filling his face. “I’ve been struggling with guilt—for a long time. Guilt over you, over everything we’ve talked about.” He glanced at Clark. “Clark and I have been talking. I stayed up last night, reading some verses he showed me, and I had to admit that the things I’ve heard at your church are the truth. The things you and Terrell believe, the things Clark teaches—” His smile increased. “I know they’re true, and I’ve given myself, such as I am, to God. I’m gonna follow him.”