“Nah, just us unless you count my husband.”
Her hands shook. She stared out the window.
A moment later, we exited the cemetery. I checked on her again through the mirror. Her back and shoulders quivered, and I spied tears again.
“Jordan is about the nicest man on the face of the earth.”
“I don’t like him,” she argued.
“You haven’t met him yet.”
“I still don’t like him.” She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her fists, giving herself red-dirt raccoon eyes.
“You have no reason on earth to like any man, so far as I can tell. However, if you will trust me enough to give him a chance, I believe you could like my husband.”
“I just want to like you,” she sniffled.
I drove without saying much else. When we pulled into my garage, she stopped crying, almost as if on cue. “Where is this?”
“My home. Welcome. Out we go,” I said, my voice confident, the whole while wondering what on earth would my husband say?
By the time we both were out of the car, Jordan opened the door leading from the house into our garage. “My girls, my girls,” he said.
I’d called Jordan earlier. He hadn’t answered, so I left a message, telling him I wanted—no, I needed—to bring Bailey home for a few days. He’d obviously gotten the message, but looking at my husband, something felt wrong. He spoke all the right words. They were the same as what he’d said when I came home with other children. But his eyes were dull and flat. Those weren’t his eyes. No, a stranger who bore a striking resemblance to my husband stood in our garage.
“Come in. You must be Bailey.” He nodded at her and took me into his arms. I clung to him, but he released me, spearing my eyes with his.
Bailey stepped around him. “Hi.” She dropped her head as she entered our home.
As Jordan and I walked in behind her, I mouthed “sorry.” I realized I’d made a big mistake, leaving him a message rather than talking to him myself.
Bailey stood flat against the wall inside the living room. Sweat drops beaded on her lip.
Wanting to comfort her, I laid my hand atop her head. Her scalp jerked. “Sweetheart, everything will be fine. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.” I cast a nervous glance at my husband, then stepped with Bailey down the hall, pointing out her bathroom. “Can you look around in these two rooms while I speak to Jordan?”
“He won’t hit you, will he?”
“No, sweetheart, he’s a wonderful man.”
Hot-footing it to the front rooms, I found him in the kitchen, stirring dinner. “Baby, I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for not talking to you myself. It’s been a difficult day, but no matter what I should have waited until we talked.”
He didn’t look up.
“Miss Katie?”
I turned to her. “What, missy?”
“Do you mind if I look upstairs?” Her voice had stopped shaking.
“No. Go ahead.”
I allowed her to explore while I stayed put beside Jordan. “I love you.”
He smiled. “And I, you.” The smile faded.
Maybe … just maybe.
When Bailey returned, he said, “Dinner is on the table.” He’d made a green salad for us, mac and cheese for her. Delicious, but the food seemed to stick in my throat as I tried to make small talk that fell flat. Jordan and I had never made small talk—always so much to share with each other. But I knew he felt disrespected. I hadn’t meant to cause that, but I had.
Bailey didn’t say a word during dinner even though Jordan attempted to chat with her. Her eyes glazed with tears. In a last-ditch effort, Jordan asked if she would like for him to play his guitar when she’d finished eating.
She shook her head.
I reached under the table for his hand, finding it warm and comforting. Please, God, let Jordan be good with this. Let him see I had no choice.
Later, I lay with a fed, bathed, and exhausted Bailey, waiting for her to fall asleep. Swaddled in another of my tee shirts, she yawned. “Miss Katie, how did you get so rich?”
“Girlfriend,” I said, running my hand through her hair, “I’m not rich. Jordan and I both work hard, and we’ve been blessed … financially.”
And when there are no children to spend on …
The sandman sprinkled his magic into eyes that grew heavy. “Can you go to the grocery store any time you want to and buy anything you want and eat it any time you want to?”
“Yes.”
“Rich enough for me.” She closed her eyes and, soon enough, expelled soft baby snores.
The kids I see put my life into perspective. Thank you, God, for Your provision. Sometimes I forget how much You’ve given me. Please help Jordan be okay about Bailey being here.
Chapter 10
Islipped from Bailey’s bed, then found Jordan waiting for me in the living room. “I left plenty of lights in case she awakens in the night,” I said to him.
He took my hand and led me through our bedroom and into our bathroom where he had filled my tub with a steaming bubble bath and a stemmed goblet with chilled White Zinfandel. My white terry cloth bathrobe lay folded on the vanity. Candlelight flickered. Soft music played.
“Hey, you,” I sighed with a smile. “I love you so.” He loved me too. Everything would be all right. He had an incredible sensitivity for children. And Bailey was not the first child I’d brought home.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asked.
“A world where people take care of their children, fathers who put their kid’s needs above their own, and place a hit on Bailey’s stepmother.” I grimaced at my own dark humor, then peeled out of my clothes and slid into the warm fragrance of the bathwater.
“It’ll look better in the morning.” He sat on an antique clawed-footed stool beside my tub while I soaked. “Any part of this you can talk about?” he asked.
“She has no one.” I slid as far into the water as I could without drowning.
“You’ll help her work out something.”
“Like what?” I ached all over, and my mind felt too tired to think.
He leaned over enough to allow his kiss to grace my cheek. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
He vacated the stool, looked distant but kissed me again on the forehead before he returned to the bedroom. I frowned; he usually stayed and talked while I bathed, especially when I’d lived through a day as difficult as this one.
I left the tub sooner than I wanted, to check on him. I needed him to be all right.
He sat on my side of the bed, still wearing shorts and a tee shirt. He hadn’t changed into pajamas. Tears dropped from his eyes and onto his face.
“What are you doing?” My heart thumped through my chest. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” My words seemed to come through a tunnel. “Baby, talk to me.”
“I’m going to.”
“What?”
He walked to the far side of the bed, his side, where he picked up a suitcase.
Tears still slid down his face.
“No. Are you going somewhere?” Perhaps he’d gotten a call from Utah. Had his mother become ill? “Did something come up at the last minute you forgot to tell me about?”
He stood silent as a statue.
I hurried to him. “You’re crying. Your mom must be terribly ill.”
He didn’t answer at first but looked at me through stranger eyes again. “My mom is fine.”
“Jordan, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Katie Girl, I love you. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t do what?” My favorite robe smothered me. Cold sweat dripped down my body like a leaky faucet as I glared at my husband. I normally chilled easily— felt cold all the time—but I was hot enough to combust. Nausea rose in my belly.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“Know what? That my husband is gone, and a stranger stands in his place? My husband woul
d never leave. Ever. No matter what. The real Jordan adores me.”
“Bailey seems like a great little girl. And I hate what she’s been through.”
“Jor—”
His steel glare stopped me. He returned his suitcase to the floor and wiped his face with a tissue from his nightstand. “Let me talk. I looked up everything I could find about her after you were watching the news so closely.”
Like Lot’s wife, I turned to salt.
“What a tragic story.”
“Then it can be all ri—”
“Katie. Let me talk.”
I nodded, continuing to breathe while part of me died inside.
“I’m so sad for her, but she’s not our child. Children’s Services exists to help with tragic situations like this. And, yes this is indeed tragic.” He wiped his tears again. Sniffed deeply. “But you won’t let them. You fall in love with all these children and pretend they’re yours.”
I opened my mouth, but he signaled for silence.
“One more time. You knew I wanted a baby too. But since we didn’t have one, a different kind of life could’ve been ours. There for the taking.” He shook his head. “You said you wanted to see Paris. To travel. Rome. Venice. Vatican City. We’ve never even been to Hawaii, and it’s right here in the United States.”
I wanted to speak but knew better. My jaw quivered.
“I booked three trips which you had me cancel because you couldn’t take off from work. You own the practice. You set the hours. But, you just couldn’t take off. Well … you could have … but you didn’t. You thought your clients needed you, so you wouldn’t go. And we’ve been nowhere. We go to work, to church, and occasionally out to dinner … if you get home at a reasonable hour.”
His tears wouldn’t let up.
“Did you ever think about how much I need you?” he continued. “Have you counted how many nights I’m already asleep when you get home? I try to stay awake, but you work more hours every year. I usually fall asleep in my chair waiting for the sound of your car. You come home when your clients think is convenient.”
“Jor—”
He raised his hand. His eyes held mine. “Since I’ve been waiting a long time to say these things, let me finish, please.”
I nodded. I didn’t know how to respond anyway.
“When we met and fell in love,” Jordan said, “you told me I was all you’d ever need to be happy for the rest of your life. We stood before God and family and vowed that we’d love and cherish one another. I’ve done that every day for fourteen years. No, that’s not true. Since I met you. That makes nineteen years.”
“Me too.” My voice quivered. “I, you. And, baby, I apologize. If given one more chance, I can make this up to you.” Chills shot through me. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“I laid here while you were in bed with Bailey and asked myself if I felt cherished. Not just because of Bailey, but because of everyone.”
What had I done? What on earth had I done?
“I do feel loved. But no—Katie, I don’t feel cherished.”
“Don’t say that. You’re my whole li—”
He pushed his palm toward me. “Don’t ever say that unless it becomes true again. Just, please … don’t. I know for many men, being loved … between all these kids … would be enough. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I know what we had before you started seeing so many children. Before part of you withered when you never got pregnant. I want the whole thing, Catherine. Do you—do you realize you don’t laugh unless one of your kids is here?”
Please, God help me. Please Jordan stop talking and let me hold you … assure you.
“Remember when we first met?”
“Yes.”
“I served as head of the psychology department, and you were a new hire at the university. You were beautiful and glamorous, but that’s not what grabbed my heart. Those were extras.” He gave a sad smile. “Nice extras, but extras still. “You’d come into my office to ask some question. Before I’d answer, do you remember what I always said?”
“You would point to the chair in front of your desk and say, ‘sit. Talk with me. Make me laugh.’”
“That’s it. You filled my heart and office with the magic of your laughter. I was hooked. You had me for life. I was in love, and the whole department knew it.”
“Jordan, I love you.”
“And I love you. But I’m going.”
“Where?” I shook all over. “This is our home. This is our life. What do you mean you’re going? You can’t go.” I balled my hands into fists, dug holes in my palms. “You just said you still love me.” I slid toward a black hole. I should sit.
“And I also said I’m leaving. I’ll stay in a hotel for now. I’ll let you know where I am after that. I have my cell. I’ll check it often. And, of course, you have my number at work. You can always reach me.”
“Reach you? No, Jordan. I can make this right.”
And then he picked up his suitcase, kissed my cheek a final time—his face wet with tears—and walked out.
I followed him through the living room and called, “Wait. I’ll change whatever you say.”
But the door closed softly behind him. I pulled aside the lace panel and peeked through the clear window in the door and watched him drive away in his car, leaving his pickup—the one he called his redneck truck—in the driveway.
A quick intake of breath startled my lungs. He’d come back. He had to come back. I needed to show him how much I loved him. That I couldn’t live without him. I’d never thought about not having him for one moment.
But here I stood alone in the foyer … weeping for myself, but more for him.
I wore a path between the foyer and the living room, lightheaded. Jordan couldn’t have just walked out. This night was supposed to end with me curled in his arms, with me touching his face and assuring him of my love. I leaned against a marble column that separated the entry and music room from the living room.
I stumbled back into the foyer and touched the doorknob—still warm from Jordan’s hand—or I imagined it was, then fell to my knees in front of the steps that towered just inside the door. “God, I need You,” I whispered into the emptiness of the room. “Help me hang on. I never had a child, and now I’ve broken my husband’s heart—pushed him away. I didn’t mean to but, oh, God, he left crying.” The silence clawed at me. “I have been self-absorbed and have put my work before him. That was never Your plan, and I know it. I have nothing and no one, and it’s my own fault.” My eyes peered heavenward. “I have served You my whole life. And I am so sorry. Help me show Jordan how much I love him.” I sobbed.
Be still.
What?
Be still and know that I am God.
Okay.
Something tugged at my robe; Bailey knelt beside me. “Miss Katie, did I hear someone crying?”
“Oh, Bailey.” For a few horrible minutes, I had forgotten she had come home with me. I snuggled my arm around her, and we both pulled ourselves from our knees and sat flat on the cold tiles. “Everything’s okay. It’s just been a long day, and I’m exhausted. Sometimes I cry when I’m tired and just need to go to sleep.”
She nuzzled further into me, and we lingered there, comforting each other. “I miss my mama.”
“Of course you do.” Right then, I missed mine too. “I’m so sorry. I thought I had you all settled. Here, let’s get you back to bed.” We pulled each other to our feet then I took her hand and led her back down the hallway. My tee shirt dragged below her knees.
Again, I sat on the side of her bed. “What about a story?”
She shook her head. “Just stay with me.”
I intended to do just that for a few minutes then return to my room once she’d fallen asleep. But Bailey held my hand so tightly, when her eyes closed and her breathing fell into a deep and steady pace, I went around to the other side and crawled in beside her. She might wake again in the night, and right then, because of my selfishness, she was all
I had. I snuggled in close, and she reached back for me in her sleep. I loved this child, but she wasn’t the one God had joined together with me.
I begged sleep to come and rescue me from the emotional pain and outrage keeping me awake. The emotional pain of Jordan’s absence. The outrage of Thomas and Jillian not wanting Bailey.
My breath caught. Could Jordan really be gone? Why hadn’t I let him know how much I cherished him? And then a new thought came: Bailey would have to return to school soon. I would meet with her teacher. I’d need help caring for Bailey while working two full-time jobs. We’d need to go shopping soon … for clothes … for supplies.
We had no kid food for breakfast.
My teeth ground. If I hadn’t chased Jordan away, he would hold me and say, “Sweetheart, you’re grinding your teeth.” He would rock me gently, if he hadn’t left.
I rolled onto my back, then sat up and massaged my tight jaws with my fingertips. If I didn’t stop grinding, I would develop TMJ. If only Jordan were here. He’d know what to do. We’d work something out for Bailey like we had for the other children. Where was he? What hotel? We’d always helped each other feel like everything would be okay. No matter what.
I glanced at my watch for the last time around four in the morning. Then slowly, I drifted toward sleep.
At five-thirty, something awakened me. Bailey had wrapped all her limbs around me. I lifted my head and looked toward the door. I had heard something. Or at least I thought I had. I lay still, listening. Our home was large enough with Jordan in it; without him, it became huge. Father wherever he is, please comfort him.
I listened for a few moments, waiting, but heard nothing more, then decided it had probably been nerves. Or the leftovers from a dream.
I turned onto my side and cried myself back to sleep.
Jordan had always risen early.
Not me. I deplored morning. But that next morning, I woke earlier than usual. I untangled myself from Bailey’s arms and legs. I left her bed and threw her clothes that I’d dropped into the wash the night before into the dryer. I slipped back past the living room and on to the master bathroom. I glimpsed myself in the mirror and winced. Details of the night before were etched on my face, and I was surprised to see myself still wearing my robe. I pulled the belt tighter around my waist, brushed my teeth, then stumbled into the kitchen. The microwave clock blinked 7:15. I wished somewhere along the line I’d cultivated a taste for wretched coffee. But no.
The Children of Main Street Page 10