A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace (24 page)

“Ended up being about three for seven, isn’t that right, John?” Joe chuckled at the thought. “Forget the fact that the line’s out past the sea lion stadium now.”

“Right. So finally we have the three cones, and Abby realizes we need napkins. The guys point to a service counter thirty yards away and Abby takes off sprinting. I mean, Abby was quite an athlete in her day. Track, tennis. Even now she could take most of you guys in a footrace. But that day her footwork wasn’t as smooth as it might have been and, with three yards to go, the ice cream toppled from the cone she was holding and landed splat on her foot.”

Joe was laughing harder now, rocking slightly in his chair. “Eased right into her nice shoes. Can you see it, guys? Abby Reynolds? Dressed just so, with soft chocolate ice cream melting between her pretty toes?”

John began laughing at the picture. “People were staring at her, wondering why this woman had run so hard and fast with an ice cream cone in the first place. And there she was, a shoe full of ice cream, empty cone in her hand, the rest of us watching from the other side of the rest area and the sea lion show just about to start. So Abby grabs a stack of napkins, wipes the ice cream out of her shoe, and sticks her foot back inside.”

Kenny grimaced at the thought, and Sal began laughing so hard he had to set his drink down. “What about the sea lions?”

“So she runs back to the ice-cream booth, cuts in line, and tells the guy she needs another cone, only this time put it in a bowl. The guy does it, and now the music is playing for the sea lion show. ‘Come on, let’s get seats,’ she tells the rest of us. And she’s off . . .”

“Leading the way like a woman at a Nordstrom sale.” Joe’s face was red from trying to contain himself.

“We followed right behind, weaving our way through the crowd, determined to get seats before the first sea lion took the stage.” John took a breath and chuckled harder at the images in his head. “So there we are at the top of the stadium, and Abby spots a row halfway down the stairs. ‘Follow me,’ she says. And those were her last words. The stairs . . .” he tried to catch his breath and realized how good it felt. Sitting here with his friends, barely able to breathe for the laughter and the way Abby had looked that summer afternoon. “The stairs were kind of like—” he gestured—“big, small, big, small. No idea why, that’s just the way they were. But Abby must’ve only seen one size because the first step went just fine, but the moment she tried to get her foot to land on that second step, she wound up stepping on nothing but air and she began to tumble.”

All the men were laughing now, putting down their food, bent over, struggling for air. John found his voice and despite the way his body shook he continued the story. “Not just any tumble, mind you. The backpack rode up onto the back of her neck and . . . and it pushed her down further and further . . .”

“She looked like—” Joe’s voice was shrill from the lack of oxy-gen—“ she looked like a turtle, right, John? Sliding down the stairs, one after another . . . the backpack . . . on her head.”

“Right.” John drew a deep breath and tried to control himself. “Her head was peeking out just a little from the backpack and finally . . . finally a man put his hand out and stopped her.”

Kenny was a big man, and when he laughed as hard as he was now, he began sounding like a sea lion himself. The realization made John chuckle even harder than before. Between breaths he was able to finish the story. “Of course the whole . . . the whole stadium was full of people and the show had already . . . started.” He inhaled sharply. “At first the people thought it was part of the act . . .”

“A few women started clapping.” Joe could still barely get the words out for the laughter that shook his body. “She actually stopped the show. Even the sea lions waited to see what was going to happen.”

John nodded, the memory so funny he was starting to giggle like a girl. Abby had looked so pathetic. “Anyway, this man reaches out and stops her and . . . trying to look casual . . . she gets up all quick and waves at the people. Then she turns around and looks at me, and that’s when I see the ice cream . . .”

“The bowl of ice cream she’d been holding.” Joe was almost bent in half now, and the other guys were laughing so loud they were attracting the attention of everyone in the room. “Remember, the one she’d lost down her shoe the first time!”

“So there she is, knees and elbows all skinned and bleeding, backpack caught up in her hair and ice cream smeared down the entire front of her shirt.”

Sal hooted out loud. “I woulda bought tickets to that all right. Little Miss Perfectly Dressed Coach’s Wife looking like that . . . with a whole stadium of people watching.”

“We sat down and the show started up again.” John caught his breath and forced himself to calm down. “She didn’t say a word until the show was over, then she turned to me and said, ‘Okay, how’d that look?’ And I absolutely lost it.”

“Somewhere someone probably got themselves a ten-thousand-dollar video moment.” Joe slapped his own knee this time, and the group laughed hard again.

“Oooooeeee.” John shook his head and exhaled long and hard. “That was something else all right.”

Joe wiped a tear from his eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” He shook his head. “And the thing about it is, to this day, Abby can laugh at it, too.”

Kenny got control of himself. “Yeah, that’s the best thing about Abby. She doesn’t take herself too seriously.”

“Where is she, anyway? She should have been out here to tell us how it felt.” Sal exhaled, still trying to catch his breath as he looked around the room.

A stabbing feeling cut into John’s gut and erased all the silliness of a moment earlier. But before he could answer, Nicole walked up and grinned at them. “Okay, what’s all the commotion over here?”

Joe shoved John in the shoulder. “Your dad was telling us about the Sea World trip . . . you know, the actual ‘trip.’ When your mom made a splash at the sea lion show.”

“Yeah, good thing Sean was on Dad’s back, huh?” Nicole giggled and shook her head. “Poor Mom, we’ll be telling that story until she’s old and gray. At least she wasn’t hurt.”

Nicole wandered back across the room to her group of friends, and the guys began talking all at once. John felt suddenly sick to his stomach, Nicole’s words punched around at his insides like perfectly delivered blows.

“Until she’s old and gray . . . until she’s old and gray.”

The wife of his youth, his best friend and lifelong companion, would not grow old and gray with him. No, she would be married to someone else by then, spending the rest of her life with another man. In fact, there would be no stories about Abby in the years to come, no regaling the crowd with stories of how she’d talked herself out of a speeding ticket or burned the sweet potatoes on Thanksgiving Day. If he was honest with himself, the story he’d just told was probably the last he’d ever tell about his precious Abby girl. Once they were divorced, what sense would it make to sit around with the guys recalling the good times with Abby, the funny moments that no one in their family would ever forget.

And Charlene . . . well, John was fairly sure she wouldn’t see the humor in their family memories anyway.

Abby managed to spend the first hour of the party in the kitchen, chatting with a number of Nicole’s friends as they passed through. Dad had wanted to join them at the house but his nurses said the excitement would be too much for him. Instead Nicole and Matt had promised him a visit after church the next day. Abby stared out the window at Matt and his buddies anchored around a picnic table on the covered back porch. She felt the corners of her lips lift slightly. She liked Matt. He was strong and intelligent. There was a gentleness about him when he was with Nicole that told Abby he’d make a wonderful father.
I pray
it lasts. Don’t ever let the years get away from you, Matt . . .

It was the first weekend in March, and though spring hadn’t officially arrived, the thunderstorm that was blowing over assured them it was coming.

It won’t be long now. Four months and the charade will be over.

She was alone in the kitchen freshening up the food platters when she heard John and his friends laughing in the family room. At first the sound made Abby angry.
He’s sounding a bit too happy out there,
God
.
Isn’t he hurting even a little?

Easing herself closer to the door she caught pieces of the conversation.
Sea lion show . . . halfway down the stairs . . . tumbling . . . like
a turtle.

They were talking about the Sea World trip some ten years ago. By herself with no one to fool, tears filled Abby’s eyes as a smile played on her lips. How long had it been since they’d laughed together over that story? And why was John telling it now?

She moved away, leaning against the refrigerator, eyes closed, heart thudding against her ribs.
God, how can we do this to each other? Why don’t I go out there and laugh with him, sit with him. Love him
again?

Love never fails, daughter. Love never ends.

Well, it has for us, so now what, Lord? Where do we go from here?

It had been months, years even, since she’d held a discussion with God, allowed His thoughts to permeate her own, and given herself permission to respond. But now, tonight, with a house full of people she loved more than any in the world, she was desperate for answers.

I’m waiting, God. Tell me. What are we supposed to do next? I need
real help here, Lord.

Silence.

Abby hesitated a beat, then wiped her tears. Fine. If God wasn’t going to talk to her she’d just have to make her way alone. It wouldn’t be the first time. For all intents and purposes, she’d been alone since the day Charlene Denton set her sights on John.

Let he who is without sin cast the first—

That’s not the answer I want . . .
Abby spun around and forced herself to think of something else. She had guests to tend to, after all. This was no time to be wading knee-deep in guilt, not while everyone else was having a good time. John was the one to blame for the mess they were in, and she wouldn’t let anyone tell her differently.

Not even God Himself.

The last of the guests were gone, and Nicole was stacking their opened gifts neatly in the middle of the coffee table. The boys and Matt were in Kade’s room playing Nintendo, and Dad had turned in early. Only Mom was awake, but after finishing the dishes she’d excused herself to the office to finish up an article.

The party had been a huge success, giving Nicole and Matt time with their closest friends and family. There had been laughter and shared memories and good times for everyone until well after ten o’clock. But Nicole couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Deeply wrong.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table and slipped one leg over the other.
God, what is it? What am I feeling?

The image of her parents came to mind, and she realized she hadn’t seen them together once during the evening.
Is everything okay
between them, Lord? Are they in some kind of trouble?

Pray, daughter. The prayer of a righteous one is powerful and effective.

The answer was swift and almost audible. God wanted her to pray—but for her parents? Why on earth would they need prayer? Were they having money troubles, maybe? Was the wedding costing them more than they could afford?

Oh, Lord, my heart feels troubled beyond words. Father, be with my
parents and bring them to a place of togetherness. I’m afraid . . . I didn’t
see them near each other tonight and . . . well, maybe I’m just looking too
hard, but I get the strongest feeling something’s wrong. Maybe money or
something. I don’t know. Please, Father, surround them both with Your
angels and protect them from the evil one and his terrible schemes. Where
there’s stress, calm them; where there’s misunderstanding, clear it up. And
use me, Lord, however You might, to help make things right. If they’re
wrong, that is.

She finished her prayer and studied the closed office door. Without hesitating she stood and made her way across the room, knocking once before turning the handle and easing herself inside. “Whatcha doing?”

Her mother looked up quickly, then stared briefly at the computer screen and clicked twice.

“Good-bye.” The computer announced.

“I was . . . just checking my e-mail.” Her mother smiled in a way that seemed a little too happy and turned her chair so that she faced Nicole.

Why did she look so nervous? “Hey, Mom . . . is everything okay? With you and Dad, I mean?” Nicole studied her mother, looking for signs that things might actually be worse than she imagined. Like maybe they were in a fight or something. In all her years growing up, Nicole could remember maybe three times when her parents had fought. Always it had been the most unnerving feeling she’d ever encountered. Her parents were like two rocks, the people everyone looked to when they wanted to know how a marriage was supposed to work.

The last time her parents had even raised their voices at each other was years ago, wasn’t it? Nicole waited for her mother’s response, aware that her own fingers were trembling.

“Yes, of course. Everything’s great.” Her mother angled her head, her features knotted up curiously. “What made you ask, sweetheart?”

Nicole swallowed hard, not sure if she should voice her concerns. “I didn’t see you guys together all night, you know? It seemed kinda strange.”

Her mother laughed once. “Honey, there were so many people here. Every time I started out to join your father, someone else came in to talk or brought me another food tray to fill. The night got away from us, that’s all.”

A warm feeling came over Nicole, and her whole body relaxed. It had just been her imagination after all.

The prayer of a righteous one is powerful and effective. Pray, daughter.
Pray.

An alarm sounded again in Nicole’s heart. Why was the Lord giving her thoughts like that if everything was okay? She cleared her mind and stared hard at her mother. “You’re telling me the truth, right, Mom? This isn’t about money or anything? The last thing I want to do is make things hard on you and Daddy.”