A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace (7 page)

“Have you thought of a date?” Dad looked at them curiously and his eyes, too, seemed strangely untouched by the joy of their news.

Nicole and Matt looked at each other and grinned as they turned back to Mom. “We figured it out last night. July fourteenth. Your anniversary, Mom and Dad! Isn’t that great!”

Matt slipped his arm around Nicole and looked intently at her parents. “The truth is, Nicole and I want the kind of marriage you two have.” He looked at Nicole again. “The kind that grows better every year.”

Mom stood up and her smile was strange . . . awkward. “How nice.” She looked at Dad and Nicole thought she conveyed some unspoken message. “I’m going to put the kettle on for tea. Nicole? Matt? Can I get you some?”

Kade raised his hand. “Actually get some for me, too, Mom.” He worked his face into an ultraformal expression. “English tea with a dash of sweet cream would be simply smashing.”

Sean burst into little-boy laughter and tackled his brother until the two landed on the floor. Nicole smiled at her mother. “Sure. Thanks, Mom.”

Without another word, without crossing the room for a hug or asking Nicole to join her, Mom hurried from the room and headed for the kitchen.

Dad stood. “I’ll help.” He hesitated, looking at them strangely. “We’ll be right back.”

Kade and Sean were still wrestling on the floor, and when her parents were out of earshot, Nicole turned to Matt. “Are my parents acting weird, or is it just me?”

Matt shrugged. “I think they’re happy.” A concerned look crossed his face. “They are, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they seem like it.” Nicole thought about her mother’s reaction and worked her mouth into a smile as she snuggled closer to Matt. Of course they were happy.
It’s only my imagination.
“Mom’s probably just in shock. I mean, she turns forty-one last week and now I’m getting married. That’s a lot to handle.”

Matt laughed. “If I know your mother, once it sinks in she’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

“Yeah,” Nicole ran her finger along Matt’s face. “You’re the answer to both our prayers.”

Six

T
HE NOISE OF
S
EAN AND
K
ADE WRESTLING
in the next room was enough to hide Abby’s convulsing whimpers as she braced herself against the kitchen sink and stared through her window at the frozen lake. Beside her, his back to the view, John stood silently, arms crossed, eyes cast downward.

Her heart was so heavy she could barely stand up under the weight.
Help me, God. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. What are we
supposed to do now?

What God has joined together let no one separate, My child.

Oh, quit!
Abby was bone-tired of pat answers. That scripture couldn’t possibly be from the Lord. Not when He knew what was happening with John and Charlene.
I need real answers, God. Please!

Silence.

Her tears came harder, and she buried her face in her hands. Nicole was going to get married in six months—on their wedding anniversary, no less—during the exact same time as the divorce proceedings were scheduled to take place. It was like something from a terrible nightmare. Was the pain of living in a loveless marriage fated to go on indefinitely?

For two minutes neither of them said anything. Abby glanced at John and felt the hatred rise within her.
Look at him, standing there
speechless. Say something! Hug me or tell me we’ll find a way to break the
news to the kids despite Nicole’s plans. Something. I mean, come on, John.
We should be celebrating out there with them, not in here where there are
no answers, no ways out.

John shifted his weight and turned his head in her direction. “You gotta get a grip here, Abby. The kids could come in any second.”

She stared at him, mouth open. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he understand that Nicole and Matt’s announcement changed everything? She yanked a paper towel from the roller, wiped hard at her eyes and blew her nose, reaching down to slam the wrinkled ball into the trash beneath the sink. When she looked up she caught his eyes and searched them, trying to understand.

“Get a grip? You want me to get a grip when our kids are out there celebrating Nicole’s engagement?” She uttered a brief laugh and shook her head. “I mean, didn’t you
hear
them? They want a marriage like ours, John. They’re getting married on our anniversary, for goodness sake. You think we can go out there now and tell them we’re getting a divorce?”

John clenched his teeth and stared at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

Stand up and look me in the eye!
Abby folded her arms and glared at him. He was always rubbing his neck about one thing or another. It was too late for that now.

“Can’t you say something?”

John brought his head up slowly, and Abby was not prepared for the transparency of his eyes or the sadness she saw there. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I feel . . . I don’t know, I guess I feel like I failed you, failed God. Failed everyone.”

She had expected him to snap back at her, but this . . . this broken man before her was someone she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

Don’t forget about Charlene.

The taunting voice flung darts at her compassion, bursting it like a cheap balloon.
Good point. We’re too far gone to feel sorry for each
other. Not with—

Don’t say it, daughter. The tongue is full of evil.

“Save your confessions for Charlene.”

As soon as the words were out she wished she could snatch them from the air and shove them back inside, where she could sort through and filter them. She remembered something her father had told her once after he’d given his life to the Lord.
Trying to take back
unkind words is like trying to put the toothpaste back in the tube. You
can’t do it, and you’ll only make a mess of things trying.

Abby uncrossed her arms and tapped her fingers softly on the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice.”

John cocked his head and studied her. “No, it wasn’t, but then we haven’t exactly been very nice to each other for a while now.”

Abby felt fresh tears in her eyes as she turned to fill the kettle and light the fire beneath it. “So what’re we supposed to do?”

“We pull it together, go back in there, and act excited for our daughter, that’s what.” John’s voice was quiet and measured, the way it sounded when there was no arguing with him.

“What about
our
announcement?” Panic rose in Abby’s chest; she desperately needed fresh air. They couldn’t pretend another six months, could they? In the shadows of planning a wedding for Nicole and Matt?
Help me, God, I—

She caught herself. What point was there in asking the Lord for help when He wasn’t handing out answers anyway? At least not any she could use.

“We can tell the kids after the wedding. Really, Abby.” John worked his face into an incredulous frown. “You think we can go back in there, ask Matt to leave, and then tell them we’re finished? Nicole would probably pack her bags and elope. She deserves more than that from us.”

“Well, that’s why I don’t have a grip here, all right?” Pain and sarcasm oozed from every word, and Abby fought to keep from spitting at him. “You’re dating another woman right under my nose, and now I get to pretend everything’s fine for another six months.” He rolled his eyes and she continued, her anger building with each whispered word. “Not only that, but I have to act like our marriage is this shining
beacon
of an example for our daughter and her fiancé while we shop for wedding dresses and flower arrangements. It’s enough to put me over the edge, John.”

“For crying out loud, Abby, I’m not dating her!” It was the loudest John had gotten during the discussion, and Abby glanced toward the kitchen entrance then back at him.

“Keep it down. Please. And quit lying.” If the kids came in now, she had no idea what they’d say to explain why they were fighting in the kitchen.

John continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Okay, you want to know the truth? I kissed her. There, are you happy?”

Her world shifted wildly as she stared at him. He was finally admitting it; she had been right after all. John was having an affair. That could only mean one thing: he was in love with Charlene. Abby reeled backward until she came up against the place where the counter formed an L-shape. She had accused him often, yes, but somewhere in the recesses of her mind she had always hoped it wasn’t so, that John’s constant declarations of innocence were maybe, at least in part, the truth.

“You
kissed
her?” Abby’s words were weak and hoarse, like the sounds that come from a dying old woman. A whistling began to build from the kettle, and without looking Abby reached over and flicked off the burner. Forget tea. Her head was spinning too hard to even think about putting something in her stomach.

John took a step closer, determination etched in his face. “Yes. You were right; are you happy? Isn’t that what you wanted to hear? I did it; I kissed Charlene one night after practice because I was stupid and weak and not thinking straight.” Another step in her direction. “But, Abby, I have not slept with that woman, and I’m not having an affair with her.”

Abby’s eyes fell to the floor, to the place where their feet now faced each other as they’d done so many times before. He was lying—she could feel it in her bones. She began shaking her head in short, jerky motions. “I don’t believe you . . .” A surge of renewed anger filled her, and she found the strength to look him in the eyes again. “You kissed her? Why don’t you just tell me the whole truth, John? That you’re having an affair and you’re in love with her.”

His lips formed a straight, angry line and all trace of sadness and compassion vanished from his face. He brought the palm of his hand down hard on the countertop.

There was a beat. “Hey . . . did something break in there?” Nicole yelled her concern from the next room.

Abby forced her voice to sound cheerful, normal. “No, dear. Your father dropped a cup. Everything’s fine.”

She shot an accusatory look at John and he narrowed his eyes.

“Believe what you want, Abby. I’ve told you the truth. I don’t care how you want to handle this, but we need to make a plan.” He paused and the tension left his face. “Our decision to divorce isn’t about Charlene any more than it is your e-mail buddy, Stan. Things have been falling apart between us for years.” Some of the warmth returned to his eyes. “Let’s not go out fighting like this, hating each other.”

New tears filled her eyes, and she crossed her arms tightly, gazing once more at the floor. He was right, and she hated him for it. Stan was her editor and friend, nothing more. But her marriage to John had been dead long before Charlene entered the picture. How in the world had they managed to keep everyone fooled for so long? Even the kids? Habit, Abby guessed. A lifetime of loving for all the right reasons had become a pattern of going through the motions. Nights of laughter and deep conversation had given way to silent isolation, hours of meaningless television, and using old magazines to pass the time and fill the emptiness.

And now they were left with this.

She nodded, wiping at a tear before it could slide down her face.

John sighed. “I’ll stay away from Charlene as much as possible. I mean, I work with her and nothing can change that fact. But I’ll do my best.” John reached out and gently lifted Abby’s chin, and she felt even the small muscles along her spine go tense. He never touched her that way anymore. Now that they’d agreed it was over, she preferred his angry indifference to this . . . this reminder of all they’d once been.

“Can you do it, Abby? For six months?”

She held her breath, searching for another way and knowing there was none. This was Nicole’s season, her time of becoming. Abby would do nothing to mar it, even if the pretending killed her. She turned her head slightly and John took the hint, allowing his hand to drop to his side. But she maintained eye contact. “We’ll be busy, I guess. With wedding plans and all.”

John nodded slightly. “Right. The weeks’ll fly by and then later on—when they’re back from their honeymoon—we can go on with our plans.”

Abby considered the notion and knew it was the only way. Her thoughts landed on Charlene and her heart skipped a beat in response. “Don’t make a mockery of me, John.” For the first time that morning there was fear and vulnerability in her voice.

Again John brought his hand to her face and brushed a lock of hair back from her eyes. “I respect you, Abby. You have my word.”

She wanted to push away his fingers, his kindness, shout at him that it was too late for that, but right then she needed his touch more than she understood. She shifted slightly, and he removed his hand once more. “So it’ll be our secret, right? We tell no one?”

“Right.”

She raised her eyes and studied the silk plants that lined the top of her cupboards. “I guess it won’t matter, anyway. The next six months won’t be about us; they’ll be about Nicole and Matt.”

“That’s right.” His hesitation drew her eyes back to his. “Besides . . . we’re already basically divorced. We go our separate ways, spend time with different groups of friends, and sleep in separate rooms. The only thing we’ll be waiting on is telling the kids.”

Abby blinked. John’s description of their lives sounded as appealing as cold oatmeal, and she willed away the wetness that returned to her eyes. It was true, wasn’t it? They were separate people living separate lives. “Let’s try to get through it without a lot of fighting, okay?”

“I’m all for that . . .” John chuckled lightly, and immediately Abby’s ire ignited. What did he think? She caused all the fights? Before she could come back with a biting response, she stopped herself.
Deep breath, Abby.
If they weren’t going to fight, then it had to start now. With her.

Abby thought of something. If he was conceding that things were separate, that meant he couldn’t comment on the fact that they weren’t sleeping together, weren’t physically intimate. Of course, they hadn’t been for six months—ever since the first time she’d caught Charlene in his classroom late one night—but that hadn’t stopped John from making an occasional dig at her. Especially after sessions with their counselors. She leveled her gaze at him thoughtfully. “So for the next six months we’ll be cordial roommates, nothing more. Agreed?”