A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace (67 page)

“Because you’re running.”

“From what?” Her attention was back on the computer screen and the list of items there.

Matt breathed out in a sudden burst. “From everything. From talking to me . . . from your dad’s situation . . . from your pregnancy.” He hesitated. “From God.”

Even now Nicole wasn’t sure why his comments made her so angry. Words began tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Who are you to tell me what I’m running from?” She spun the chair around and glared at him. “Just because I don’t want to delve into the deeper meaning on every topic doesn’t mean I’m running.”

“Praying with your husband isn’t exactly delving into the deeper meaning, Nicole.”

“Okay, fine. You want me to pray, I’ll pray. But don’t ask me to put my heart into it because I can’t. Right now I need a little time before I go calling on God.”

Matt had looked at her, clearly dumbfounded. “You don’t sound anything like the girl I married.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m serious. You used to talk about God constantly. Now you’d rather pretend He doesn’t exist.”

“That isn’t it.” She huffed. “It’s just that there isn’t a lot left for me to ask Him. Let my dad’s legs be okay? Too late. Let us wait and have babies in a few years. Done deal. I’m not running, Matt. I guess I just don’t see the point in praying.”

Matt motioned to the computer. “And playing on eBay will help you work through that?”

“It’s better than wasting every moment praying when in the end God will do whatever He wants.”

Matt had stared at her for a long time after that. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “As long as one of us still believes in prayer, I want you to know something.”

Nicole was silent, her cheeks burning.

“I’ll be praying for you, Nicole. That God will help you remember who you are.”

Since then his words had played in her head, easing their way across her heart. What was wrong with her anyway? She still believed in prayer, didn’t she? After a lifetime of seeing God’s answers, her life’s situations now couldn’t be enough to actually shake her faith, could they?

She slipped into a black stretch skirt and a white silk blouse. Her belly was protruding now, but not so much that she needed maternity clothes. She was grateful. It was Christmas Eve, and they were invited, along with Jo and Denny, to her parents for dinner. Matt’s parents were already downstairs with Matt, waiting for her.

Nicole grabbed a pair of black hose, and as she slipped them on, her eyes fell on a Scripture plaque near their bed. It was a verse from Hebrews, one that had always been a favorite of Matt’s.

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith . . .”

The pantyhose fell still in Nicole’s hands. Maybe
that
was her problem. She hadn’t had her eyes fixed on Jesus much. Not since her father’s accident. They’d been fixed on his injury, her pregnancy, and the sorrow and frustrations that went along with both.

But not on Jesus.

Wasn’t there another Bible verse about God being the author . . . of something? Nicole closed her eyes for a moment, and it came to her. The author of life. That was it. God was called the author of life. And if He was the author, it was His decision whether some characters would go through life unscathed or whether they’d fall victim to a car wreck.

The idea didn’t ease Nicole’s burden. And it certainly didn’t increase her desire to pray. If God was the author, then the book was already written. They could love God, and He could love them. But prayer wasn’t going to change anything. Not if the pages had already been written.

“Nicole, are you ready?” Matt’s voice carried up the stairs. They’d both apologized since the fight the other day, but nothing had been the same between them. Matt thought she’d changed, and she thought he’d become insensitive. It was one more thing to add to the list.

She stuck her head out the door. “In a minute.”

“Hurry.” He shot a look at the clock on the wall. “We’re already late.”

Nicole began working on her pantyhose again. “Merry Christmas to you, too.” She hissed the words quietly, so Matt wouldn’t hear her. As she did, she sat on the edge of the bed and raised one foot. She was pulling the hose up past her ankles when it happened.

Deep within her she felt a fluttering.

As though someone was tickling her from the inside. Nicole’s heartbeat quickened, and she stayed still. Was that what she thought it was? Nearly a minute passed and it happened again. It felt like the paws of a sleepy kitten, tapping at her from somewhere behind her lower abdomen.

When it happened a third time, Nicole knew. It wasn’t a kitten.

It was her baby. The baby she had never quite accepted, never quite been happy about. But now here this little child was, moving and stretching and becoming. The beautiful sunrise of vibrant joy exploded in Nicole’s heart. God was knitting a new life within her! How could she be anything but thrilled with that truth?

She hugged herself, wondering for the first time what the baby would be like. A boy or girl? Tall like Kade or bigger-boned like Matt? With her mother’s intensity or her father’s determination? Tears stung at her eyes, but she refused to cry. Whatever other problems she needed to work through, Nicole was suddenly ready to love this child within her.

And maybe one of these days she’d be ready to talk to God again, too.

The door burst open and Matt stared at her. “It’s been five minutes, Nic. What’re you doing?”

A single laugh bubbled up from Nicole’s throat. “The baby . . .”

Matt entered the room and took a few steps closer, his expression blank. “What about the baby?”

“I felt the baby move, Matt.” Another breathy chuckle slipped from her mouth. “Just a few little flutterings, but I’m sure that’s what it was.”

“Really?” The tension around Matt’s eyes eased. He moved onto the bed beside her and lay his hand on her tummy.

“You won’t be able to feel it.” She covered his hand with hers. “It was soft. I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been sitting here.”

Matt’s eyes met hers. “You sound happy about it.”

Had her disappointment been that obvious? Nicole’s heart grieved at the thought. “Of course I’m happy.” She leaned over and kissed him.

For a moment he looked at her, his eyes full of questions. But just when she thought he was going to ask her about prayer and God and her attitude, he smiled. “Let’s get to your parents’ house and tell them.”

Nicole’s love for Matt swelled as it hadn’t in months. He wanted so badly to fix her, to make her feel and think and act the way she used to. But here, when he could have used this moment as a way of convincing her that God was working in her life, he’d been willing to wait. “Thanks, Matt. For not pushing it.”

“I love you, Nic. No matter what you feel or think or believe.” He reached for her hand. “When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

Abby was struggling.

It was Christmas Eve and the kids would be there in five minutes, but nothing felt right. She took one last look in the mirror and sucked in a steadying breath. John’s good days had outnumbered the bad this past week, and Abby thought she knew why. It had everything to do with seeing Jake Daniels. John’s time in court that day to talk with the boy, laugh with him, offer him hope, had done more for John than any amount of therapy so far.

If only it had helped her. She just couldn’t get past her anger, couldn’t seem to download it so it didn’t stay bottled up inside her, eating at the lining in her stomach.

Friends from church would call, but she’d tell them all the same thing: “We’re doing great . . . thanks for praying . . . John’s feeling better . . . getting used to the wheelchair.”

If only she had the courage to tell it like it was: “I’m furious . . . disappointed . . . heartbroken. And not sure I like the idea of spending the rest of my life watching John pine away in a wheelchair.”

She was supposed to be strong, determined, positive. That had always been her role, even when she and John had been facing a divorce. Now, it felt as though every person who called—whether they were a longtime friend or a student of John’s—was looking for her to encourage and uplift them.

Why did everyone in her world depend on
her
to have a good attitude about John’s injury? John . . . the kids . . . their family and friends . . . it was as though they’d all gotten together and decided, “Hey, if Abby’s okay, everything’s all right. We can breathe a sigh of relief and move on with life.”

Being positive, at peace, was the right thing to do. The expected thing. No one would know how to act if Abby wept every time someone asked her about John. Or if she threw her hands in the air and told the truth about how she was struggling inside.

She studied her reflection once more.

Whatever was brewing in the basement of her heart, she’d have to hide it a while longer. It was Christmas, after all. And the entire family would expect her to be full of good cheer and pleasant conversation. Of course, last year she’d silenced her feelings about the trouble in their marriage, and it had only made things worse . . .

But this was different. She had to keep quiet now or none of them would survive.

She held her breath as she made her way out of the bedroom. Holding her breath was one way to keep from crying.
Let it go, Abby . . . don’t think about your own feelings. Think of something else
. . . She blinked hard. Kade. That was it: she could think about Kade. At least things were going better with him. He had been meeting with a counselor from church ever since he’d been home on Christmas break. The other night Kade told Abby and John that he hadn’t looked at any pornography, Internet or otherwise, since his discussion with John that day on the lake. Kade’s counselor had asked Kade to study a couple who seemed to best illustrate true intimacy.

Kade had chosen Abby and John.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and could hear a chorus of voices in the next room. She turned the corner into the living room and was immediately greeted by Jo and Denny.

“Now, Abby, don’t you just look like a Christmas angel.” Jo took three giant steps and circled her arms around Abby in a quick hug. “I’m always telling Denny you look like an angel. You know . . . that blonde halo and all. But now I have to say I’ve never been more right about it.” She elbowed Denny. “Isn’t that right, Denny?”

The man had his hands in his pockets and he gave a shy nod. “She’s a pretty one; that’s for sure.”

“Thanks, guys. You look nice, too.” Abby smiled. Compliments were wonderful. Too bad they didn’t make her feel better. “Dinner’s ready in the kitchen. Let’s go find everyone else.”

The meal was cheery and upbeat. Cinnamon candles burned on either end of the table and Abby had cooked a turkey for the occasion. John sat at the head of the table—not because he’d always sat there in the past, but because it was the only spot that would accommodate his wheelchair. Abby tried not to think about it.

“You know, Dad—” Kade finished a bite of mashed potatoes— “one of the guys at school told me his football coach spent the last five years of his career in a wheelchair. A muscle disorder or something.”

Abby flashed a quick look at John, but he was nodding thoughtfully, his eyes on Kade. “I know. It wouldn’t be impossible.”

“So, you should do it.” Kade set his fork down and leaned his elbows on the table.

“If things were different, I might.”

Nicole wiped her mouth. “You mean the kids?”

“Yep. That and the parents.” John shook his head. “My injury hasn’t changed anything at school. Parents wanted my head, remember? I was about to be fired when the accident happened.”

“Aw, Dad.” Kade shook his head. “They never woulda fired you. You’re too good for that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” John took a long drink of water. “If the administration doesn’t support what you’re doing, it’s not worth the effort.”

“So you’re quitting?” Kade’s voice fell.

A sad smile lifted the corners of John’s mouth. “I’ll write the resignation letter sometime next month.”

“Well, all I can say is whoever’s at the top o’ the heap at that school needs their head examined.” Jo had finished her first plateful and was helping herself to more of everything. “Lettin’ you get away’d be like hooking the biggest steelhead that side of the Mississippi and cuttin’ it free before a single picture was snapped.” She looked around the table. “Know what I mean?”

Sean paused, his fork midbite. “What’s a steelhead?”

Even Abby laughed, though Jo launched into an explanation of the kinds of lakes where steelhead might be found and what sort of bait was best for catching them.

When they were finished eating, they exchanged gifts around the tree in the living room. One gift each on Christmas Eve. That was the family rule. And no sorting beneath the tree, either. First gift with your name on it was the one you opened.

Keeping with tradition, John was last. He chose a small package that happened to be from Jo and Denny. Wads of wrapping paper dotted the floor, and each of them sat beside a newly opened gift while they watched John open his.

At first, Abby couldn’t make out what it was. Then as John opened the wrapper, she could see it clearly. It was a pair of gloves. The fingerless kind worn by serious bicyclists.

Or men in wheelchairs.

John slipped them on his hands and fastened the Velcro straps around his wrists. “These are great, guys. Thanks.”

But even as he was thanking Matt’s parents, Abby saw tears gathering in Nicole’s eyes. Jo seemed to sense that somehow her gift was causing sadness around the previously happy circle. “See—” she waved her hands in the air—“Denny and I always think of John as active. Going here and there and making the rest of us look pretty lazy, if you know what I mean.” She laughed once, but it rang hollow across the room.

Denny tried to rescue her. “What Jo’s trying to say is that we figured John would be getting around more in the weeks to come. Maybe taking the chair around the track at school . . . something like that.”

“Right, and the gloves . . . well, it’s obvious what they’re for. Otherwise John’s hands would get plum tore up. All callused and blistered and banged up.” She looked at Abby. “And we can’t have that. Not on a man as nice-looking as John Reynolds, right, Abby?”