A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace (5 page)

“I don’t know what happened. She was taking her nap just like
every other day and when I went to wake her up she was—”

“A boy, Abby. Can you believe it? We got ourselves a boy!”

She looked down. The dead baby was no longer there, and Nicole was older now, dancing in her ballet costume, doing toe-raises and spins and singing a song Abby couldn’t understand. Without warning Nicole’s spins became a whirlwind, and the whirlwind became a tornado, angry and menacing and building with each passing moment. In the distance Abby could see her mother, smiling, waving.

“Congratulations, Abby, you’ve got yourself a real beaut there.
Congratulations, Abby . . . Congratulations . . .”

The tornado switched directions and headed for Abby’s mother, shaking the ground and filling the air with the sound of a thousand blazing freight trains.

“Mom! Help yourself . . . run! Get out before it kills you!”

Suddenly the room was empty except for a hole in the ground. John crawled out of it holding the baby boy in his arms. Kade . . . it was Kade; Abby knew it. She ran a finger over the infant’s forehead and then saw Nicole climb out of the hole as well.

“Nicole, you’re okay!”
She hugged her daughter, convulsing with tears and stroking her golden hair. Before Nicole could say anything the baby in John’s arms let out a loud sound and Abby turned to him. Only now he was three years old, and he and John were having a burping contest in the middle of the living room. Abby looked at John, and they both laughed until tears were streaming down their faces. She glanced out the window and saw that their house was in the middle of the football field. Through the fifty-yard line ran a street where Nicole was sitting, playing in the middle of the road unaware of the car speeding straight for her . . .

“Nicole!”
Abby’s voice echoed into the night and she was deathly afraid, utterly alone until she felt the arms around her. Warm, strong, reassuring arms. John’s arms.
He’s here . . . he’s come.
She turned and hugged him close.
Oh, John, I love you . . . thank God
you’re here . . .

Instantly they were bathed in Friday-night-football lights, standing in the end zone at Marion High. Slowly a distance began to grow between them, leaving John on the field and her in the stands—in the back row—squinting to see what was happening. The crowd was frenzied, and the Eagles were down a touchdown in what Abby knew was the biggest game of the year.
Halftime . . . it must be halftime.

Over the loudspeaker someone was reading a letter.

“Mr. Reynolds, I think you’re the worst man who’s ever coached
football. Maybe our boys might win a game or two if they could get
someone at the wheel who knew what he was doing . . . knew what he
was doing . . . knew what he was doing . . .”

The words echoed across the field, and Abby ran down the stairs as fast as she could toward John. Only it took longer than usual, and she was forced to run for what seemed like hours until finally she closed the gap between them. Then, with everyone watching, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“It’s okay, honey . . . God has
a plan in this. It’ll be okay . . . you’ve got a gift and one day the whole
world will know it . . .”

Suddenly she was in the school weightroom, heading for John’s office, finding him at his desk.
“John . . .”

There were tears in his eyes when he turned to her.
“Don’t tell
me, Abby. It’s been hard enough already, please don’t tell me . . . don’t
tell me . . . don’t tell me . . .”

She came up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “It’s my job to do this, John . . . even if it’s the worst news you’ll ever hear. I have to tell you . . .”

Without warning there was the sound of a stadium exploding with the cheers of thousands of football fans.
“And now—”
the stadium announcer bellowed over the crowd—
“the state of Illinois
would like to award to Coach John Reynolds and the Marion Eagles the
honor of—”

John stopped him before he could finish.
“What I really want,”
he said
, “is my dad. He’s supposed to be here. Maybe if someone could
find him . . . find him . . . find him.”

“Congratulations! Here he is . . .”
Only the voice no longer belonged to the announcer, but to another doctor . . . one in a green coat and strange glasses. And Abby wasn’t in the stands, she was on an operating table.
“It’s a boy . . . a boy . . . a boy.”

Sean smiled at his parents and gave them the thumbs-up sign. But before Abby could hold him or savor the downy fuzz of his newborn cheek, they were all in the car, the old sedan they’d driven back when they were newly married. At the stoplight John pointed to a building up ahead.
“What’s that, Abby? I’ve seen it before but I
can’t remember . . . can’t remember . . .”

It took her a minute to recognize it. The building was their church, the place where they’d taught Sunday school together, where they’d taken their children when they were young. Only it looked different now, and John was wrinkling his brow.
“That’s not
what church looked like, Abby . . . Are you sure? Are you sure?”

They stopped the car and climbed out, and she held Nicole’s and Sean’s hands while Kade stood with John, and suddenly a crack in the ground developed between them. It began to grow.

“John! Quick, jump!”

He stared strangely at her.
“You jump, Abby. I like it on this side.”

“But it’s better over here! I like my side. Come on . . . jump!”
Her voice was shrill, filled with panic as the distance between them continued to grow at an alarming rate. Eventually she couldn’t make out what he was saying, just that he was trying to talk.

“Come on, John. Don’t you care about me? Jump! Jump, John!
Before it’s too late!”

Nicole started to cry, and Sean closed his eyes.
“I’m scared,
Mommy. Make him come back. Make Daddy come back . . .”

Then John grabbed a long piece of rope and though the space between them was widening more with each passing second, he heaved it with all his might and it spanned what was now a canyon. In a blink, the rope became a sturdy footbridge.

“I’ve changed my mind, Abby. I’m coming . . . I’m coming!”

Without waiting another moment, John and Kade ran as fast as they could across the bridge. They were almost there, almost to the safe place where Abby and Sean and Nicole waited, when the bridge began to give way. Kade caught his father’s arm and the two jumped the remaining feet, barely landing on solid ground.

“Oh, John, you could have been killed . . .”
Abby ran to them and hugged first Kade, then John.
“You should have stayed over there where
it was safe.”

He caught her eyes with his and drew her close, kissing her the way he had when they had first fallen in love.
“I had to be with you,
Abby. I love you! I’ll always love you . . . always love you . . . always love
you . . .”

His words repeated, over and over again—
“ . . . always love you . . . always love you . . .”
—but his voice changed, and Abby pulled back, studying him.

No! It can’t be . . .

Abby untangled herself, frantic. Instead of John holding her, it was a dummy made up to look like him.
“ . . . always love you . . . always love you . . .”
There was a recording playing from inside the life-sized doll, and as Abby moved backward, her heart racing, the dummy fell to the ground, eyes open.
“ . . . always love you . . . always
love you . . .”

Abby’s scream pierced the night and she shot straight up in bed, gasping for breath, her heart racing faster than ever before. What had happened? What had she just lived through? A dream?

No, a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare.

She shook her head, trying to clear the strange words and images that had consumed her night. Everything about the dream—the voices and feelings, the way her body had felt wrapped up in John’s arms—all of it had been so real. She struggled to catch her breath.

In the still of the night, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Four-fifteen. Bits and pieces from the pictures in her head still played in her mind, and she sank back down onto the pillow. Had any other two people been through as much as she and John and then decided to throw it all away?

Abby didn’t think so.

And, in the quiet hours before she and John would sit down with their children in the home where they’d been raised and tell them about the divorce, Abby grieved for all they’d been, all they’d done, all they’d never be again after today.

The grieving turned to quiet weeping. She sobbed in a way she hadn’t done in years until she heard the early morning stirrings of John in the kitchen making pancakes and the kids taking showers down the hall. Feeling as though she’d aged decades overnight, Abby dragged herself from bed, wiped her tears, and drew a deep breath.

There was no point dwelling on the past. It was time to face the future.

Five

A
BBY PULLED ON A TURTLENECK AND MATCHING
sweatshirt and slipped into a pair of jeans. Might as well be comfortable since they were bound to spend most of the day in deep conversation, wiping their children’s tears and making shallow promises that somehow everything was going to be all right.

The house was colder than Abby liked, and after she made her way downstairs she rounded the corner and flipped on the heater.
At least our home will be warm, even if we can’t be that way toward
each other.

John glanced up from the skillet and spotted her. “Pancakes are ready.”

Abby stared at him and blinked. Didn’t this day matter at all? Had it been so easy for him to come home late, sleep through the night, and pop out of bed to make pancakes like everything was fine? “I’m not hungry.”

She turned her back to him and wandered into the living room where the meeting would take place in less than an hour. Everything was neat and tidy, but in the morning light she could see a layer of dust on the old photos that sat on the bookshelves— framed pictures from when they were young and just starting out. Abby thought about getting a rag and dusting them, then shook her head.
It’s fitting that they’re covered in dust. Just like our lives
.

She closed her eyes for a minute and considered the enormity of the announcement they were about to make.
So this is it, huh, God?
Dusty photographs, dusty lives. How did we make such a mess of things?

Seek first My kingdom and all these things—

Abby’s comeback was quick and rude.
We did seek You and look
what happened.
Immediately she was seized with remorse.
I’m sorry.
It’s not Your fault
. She squinted and stared across the room, out the window at the front lawn she and John had landscaped themselves. It seemed like an eternity ago that they’d been able to laugh together, to love each other the way they’d once hoped to spend a lifetime loving. And now . . .

Now their lives were an unmanageable ball of knots too tangled to understand, let alone make right again.

Abby sensed someone else had entered the room and turned around.

“I think we should talk.” The corners of John’s eyes were lined; maybe he was more concerned than she had thought.

“About what? Haven’t we been through it a hundred times with the counselors?” She crossed her arms and chided herself for finding him attractive. After all he’d put her through, all the lies he’d told . . . even now, an hour before their big announcement, she could not force herself to be unmoved by the sight of him.

John sighed and dropped into the nearest chair, anchoring his elbows on his knees as he lowered his head. After several beats he looked up and caught her gaze so powerfully she couldn’t have blinked if she wanted to.
Do your eyes have to be so blue all the
time?

“Look, Abby . . . what I’m saying is . . . are you sure? Are you sure this is what we should do? Are you sure it’s the right thing?”

Abby shifted her weight and released a short laugh. “I’m absolutely sure it isn’t the right thing. The Bible tells us that much.”

John sat perfectly still, his gaze still locked on hers. “Then why, Abby . . . why let it happen?”

She’d always hated the way her eyes stung with the initial onset of tears. This time was no different. “
I
didn’t let anything happen, John, and you know it.
We
let it happen. And right now—to be perfectly honest—
you’re
letting it happen. You and Miss Meet-You-Friday-Morning-Same-Time-as-Usual.”

“What?”

“Don’t look surprised, John. You’re the one who saves her notes in your sock drawer. Did you forget I’m the one who does your laun—”

“Be quiet.” He stopped her midsentence, the connection between them broken as he stared at his feet, shoulders stooped. “The kids are getting ready, and Matt’ll be here any minute.”

What?
Abby felt like she’d been slapped in the face. “Matt? Why’s he coming?” This was outrageous! The most difficult announcement they’d ever had to make and now they had to do it in front of a stranger? John must be crazy to have allowed Nicole to—

“Oh, get off your high horse, Abby. Nicole wanted him here for the first part of the meeting. I guess he’s got something to ask us. Talk to
her
if you’re so frustrated.”

“Stop blaming me for everything.” She took a chair opposite him and lowered her voice. Even in this they couldn’t get along. “You make it sound like I’m crazy to want just our family here when we tell the kids we’re getting a divorce. I mean, seriously, John, why not invite the whole neighborhood? We could sell tickets, pass out popcorn. I don’t know, I guess I thought it was kind of a private moment.”

“It will be.” His voice was a tightly controlled hiss. “We can take a break after Matt talks to us, and he’ll be on his way. Nicole said he has a hundred things to do today.”