A Vow to Cherish (20 page)

J
ohn began to worry about Julia. She had been depressed since Christmas and had begun to drop hints that she wanted to break off their friendship. He knew she longed to be married again. Over the last weeks and months she had dated off and on, but hadn’t met anyone yet that she wanted to date steadily.

She usually told John whenever she had a date, partly because she had to break their jogging dates. Sometimes she would report back to him about how the evening had gone. After all, they were just friends.

But he was miserable when he knew she was out with another man.
Another man,
as though
he
were her man. He pushed the thought from his mind.

He’d begun to do that a lot lately—push out all the thoughts that crowded in about them being more than friends. Because he was married, and they were just friends.

The morning of Brant and Cynthia’s wedding, John woke to a gray fog hanging over Chicago. The January air was frigid, but Brant’s spirits were buoyant.

John, Brant and Kyle drove to Chicago early in the day and dropped their garment bags and shaving kits off at Mark and Jana’s apartment. Then Mark took the guys to a basketball court at the community gym where they played a cutthroat game of two-on-two.

They came back to the apartment in high spirits and took turns showering, shaving and eating the sandwiches Jana had waiting for them. She clucked over them like a mother hen, straightening their ties and spit licking Kyle’s hair till he threatened to do her bodily harm.

It heartened John to see his kids enjoying one another, looking forward to a happy occasion together. There had been too many somber meetings between them lately. And while Ellen’s absence was keenly felt, John knew they had each come to terms with it in their own way.

Jana, especially, seemed to have a new peace about her mother. She drove to Calypso several times each month to visit Ellen at Parkside. She usually stopped by the house afterward, declaring to John how good all the staff were to Ellen and how nice her room was. John suspected she was still trying to convince herself that sending Ellen to Parkside had been the right thing to do.

Marriage agreed with Jana. He watched her bustling around their apartment getting ready for the wedding and pride swelled in him. Jana looked radiant in the cranberry-colored satin dress she’d bought for the wedding. Her hair was cut in a new shorter style, and John was startled by how much she looked like Ellen.

Finally it was time to leave for the church. The ceremony began promptly at four o’clock. Though the fog had not lifted, inside, the chapel was beautiful in candlelight and simple ivy greenery.

Brant and Cynthia had chosen to have a small wedding. Only Kyle and Cynthia’s sister stood with them as attendants. Their families and closest friends waited expectantly, scattered throughout the first few pews.

John felt a surge of happiness for Brant as he met his bride at the altar. Cynthia was breathtakingly beautiful in the elegant white gown. Her blue eyes met Brant’s, and the love they shared was unmistakable.

John’s throat swelled with emotion—joy and pride in this handsome, noble son who stood before him, and great hope for the future Brant and Cynthia had ahead of them. Yet underneath the joyful sentiments lay a deep sorrow for what they all had lost. The contrast between Brant and Cynthia’s closeness and John’s utter loneliness was acute. And painful. If only Julia could be here beside him. What a comfort she would have been.

The thought startled him. Why was he thinking of Julia today? It should be Ellen—his wife, Brant’s mother—who he was longing to have at his side.

Two voices began to quarrel inside his mind. He felt as though he stood on the brink of a crucial decision—perhaps a life-changing decision. Surely he deserved the love and companionship that Julia had added to his life. The thought of her brought a smile to his lips.

He knew he could not go on with Julia as they had been. The passion was too great. There was more—much more—simmering between them than friendship, and it begged to be fulfilled. He had grieved—oh, how he’d grieved for Ellen. But she was gone. She was virtually dead. There was so little left of Ellen’s spirit—the Ellen that he had loved. It was hard for John to visit her anymore. He’d remained faithful to go to her nearly every day, but it had been months since she’d uttered his name. He couldn’t remember the last time.

And though the tantrums had abated, her constant nonsensical jabbering repulsed him. It hurt to be repulsed by someone who had once been so dear to him. But
once
was the operative word. There was nothing left of Ellen that was dear to him now…nothing but memories. And even those were fading.

He felt like an old man when he was with Ellen.

It was Julia who was dear to him now. She was alive and vibrant and responsive. She made him feel like a twenty-year-old kid.
He loved her!
He hadn’t really admitted it to himself until now. But he had no doubt that she loved him, too, even though they’d not yet dared to speak the words. He was certain she felt the same about him. And he needed so to be loved right now.

The organ stopped playing, and an expectant hush fell over the small sanctuary. The minister, his hair and beard white with age, but his voice rich and sonorous, began the litany of the marriage ceremony.

Cynthia’s father gave his daughter’s hand to Brant, and the couple turned to face each other. Brant repeated the vows after the minister. “I, Brant, take thee, Cynthia, to be my lawful wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward…”

Brant’s next words gripped John like a vise, and the quarrel in his mind became fierce. “…for better or for worse…” He and Ellen had shared so many years of “for better”—but now he was living “for worse.”

“…for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…” But this was a sickness that had no end, like a death. Ellen would never recover. Sandra was right. Ellen may as well be dead.

“…to love and to cherish from this day forward…” He had loved and cherished Ellen with all of his heart. He had been good to her. He had taken care of her—was still taking care of her. And he would continue to do so. Julia would help him take care of her. They would never let their love abandon Ellen.

Then Brant spoke the words that would forever transform John. “And to thee only will I cleave, as long as we both shall live.”

Thee only…thee only…thee only
—the words echoed over and over in John’s mind—
as long as we both shall live.

A wave of nausea washed over John as he watched Kyle and his bride light the unity candle. A snippet of Scripture that Oscar used to quote wove itself through his mind, slicing like a knife. “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind, to reward a man according to his conduct, according to what his deeds deserve.”

John caught his breath. His own heart had deceived him mightily. The truth that had been veiled to him now lay stark and naked in front of him. He saw exactly what his conduct—his deeds—deserved, and it pierced his spirit to the quick.

John Brighton had once stood before a holy altar and spoken a solemn promise in front of God to
his
bride. Many years and much sorrow lay between; nevertheless, it was an eternal promise he had made. Even before that, before he’d ever met Ellen, the picture of that young college boy standing in a lonely dorm room, his father’s crumpled obituary in hand, was vividly clear in John’s mind. He had taken an oath to be the husband his father had never been.

A crystal recollection of that resolve came back to him now. John Brighton was a man of his word. Could he face his children, could he face Howard and MaryEllen or the memory of Oscar and Hattie; indeed, could he face himself, if he carried out what he’d sat in this church—this hallowed place—and planned to do? He knew now that the precipice he was about to plummet over was his very
honor.

He had tried to justify his love for Julia, because, in a way, it
was
a pure love. There had been only one embrace, and they had both fled from that. Yet, the truth was, every time he saw Julia, every time he heard her husky voice, it stirred embers of passion that threatened to burst into flame.

Like all bridegrooms, he had made his promise to Ellen without knowing what the future held. Now it was time to redeem that promise.

Could he bear to give up Julia? She had been the only light in the dark nightmare he was living. Though he loved her with all his heart, he knew for certain he could not continue to see her without tarnishing his honor, without defiling the holy ground of his marriage.

He stood at a crossroad today, on the verge of trespass.

Deep sadness welled inside him. Yet stronger than the sadness was the peace that poured over him as he determined to do the thing he knew he must now do.

Oh, God. I’ve been so blind. Please forgive me, please! And give me the strength I need….

Cynthia was speaking her vows now. In the quiet of his heart, John echoed the words, renewing the promises he had made to Ellen at that altar so long ago.
I, John, take thee, Ellen…in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward, and to thee only will I cleave as long as we both shall live…as long as it takes, El.

The organ swelled and the soloist took the platform to sing a wedding prayer. What happened next, John could only call a miracle. Outside the chapel windows, the fog lifted almost instantaneously, and rays of sunlight flooded through the stained-glass windows. The sanctuary was bathed in a golden light that was almost tangible. He would have thought it an apparition that only he had seen, had he not heard the audible gasp of the congregation.

John felt he had received a holy blessing. What had begun as a willful decision to love Ellen anew, in an instant became a full-fledged emotion. A new, pure love for his wife rained down on him like a fountain, and he felt the cleansing the fountain offered as surely as though it were streams of living water.

I
n spite of John’s sadness at knowing he must say goodbye to Julia, peace engulfed him, wrapping him in a blanket of assurance. He was doing the right thing.

It would be right for Julia, too. It had been unfair to tie her to himself as he had. Genuine love would let her go. It would free her to find someone to share her life completely, in a way he was unable to do.

He had been flirting dangerously with sin, and as the revelation unfolded, he was ashamed. He’d tried to fool himself into believing he was above temptation, but now he saw how close he had come to falling. He’d held God at arm’s length, fearful of coming into the light, lest the true motives and intentions of his heart be exposed. They had been revealed after all—with glaring acuity.

His deepest guilt was that he had carried Julia along in the charade. Now he had to tell her of his transgression, and he knew it would hurt her deeply.

He was surprised to find that he spent no time worrying about what he would say to her. He trusted the words would be there when the time came.

He and his little family sent Brant and Cynthia off on their honeymoon in a shower of good wishes and love. John and Kyle stayed in Chicago with Mark and Jana Saturday night. Early Sunday afternoon Kyle caught a ride back to Urbana with a friend who lived in Chicago. John left for home a few hours later.

The ride back to Calypso was lonely compared to the revelry of the drive into Chicago with his sons. But he was glad for the time alone to think and to pray about the changes he needed to make in his life—and about how he would tell Julia.

He wanted to make a clean break. He didn’t want to leave her hanging in any way. He had cheated her long enough of the chance to start a new life and make new friends and meet someone who could share her life.

In many ways she was still grieving Martin, even though it had been over two years since her husband’s accident. It was partly John’s fault that she still grieved, for he had put her in a limbo that had forbidden her to move forward in the process of letting Martin go. John knew Julia wouldn’t see it that way, but he saw many things more clearly now. His decision had illuminated truths that he’d been completely blind to before.

In spite of the gnawing sadness, in spite of the aching emptiness he already felt at the thought of losing Julia, he felt like a man reborn. It amazed him. It was liberating to be doing the right thing, and to know without a doubt that it was right.

John turned onto Oaklawn just as the sun was sinking below the rooftops. His old house hadn’t looked so warm and friendly in a long time. Even the stark gray branches of the January trees looked welcoming, ushering him home.

He wanted to call Julia…to warn her. It didn’t seem right to spring this on her without preparing her. He wanted her to have time to see, as he did, that his decision was right.

He showered and dressed, then went to the phone on his nightstand and dialed her number. As the phone rang on the other end, and he realized he was about to hear her voice, his resolve weakened for the first time since Brant’s wedding. But he steeled himself to go through with it.

“Hello?”

“Julia, it’s John.”

“John! Hi!” He didn’t often call her at home. She sounded surprised. And pleased. “How did the wedding go?”

“It was beautiful. It was a nice weekend.” Unexpectedly, sadness overwhelmed him. This was goodbye, and he knew she heard it in his voice.

“John? Is everything all right?”

“Oh, Julia. It is, and it isn’t.”

“John? What’s wrong?”

The compassion in her voice drew him like a magnet. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I have to talk to you, Julia. But…not on the phone.” Impulsively he asked her, “Could you get away tonight for a while?”

“The boys are at Martin’s folks. They won’t be back till around ten. Do you want to come over here?”

He hesitated. He’d never been in her house before. “Yes, if you’re okay with that. Ten minutes?”

“That’ll be fine.”

He felt as though he’d already blown it. He could hear the anxiety in her voice. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to suffer long. In an hour it would all be over.
They
would be over.

He drove through the streets of Calypso, quiet on a wintry Sunday evening. Julia’s porch light was on. John parked on the street and walked across the front lawn. She met him at the door and let him in without a word.

Her house looked much as he had imagined it. Earthy colors. Just cluttered enough to be warm and welcoming. One wall across from the fireplace lined with bookshelves. Original paintings on the wall. Classical music on the stereo.

She led him to the sofa in front of the fireplace where a huge log crackled and spat at the grate. She sat down across from him in Martin’s recliner, pulling her stockinged feet up under her.

“Tell me.”

Her words shocked John. They reverberated back through the years. The same two words Ellen had spoken that night forever ago when they’d found out about the Alzheimer’s. How many times would he have to answer these words of a woman he loved?

“Julia, something happened to me at Brant’s wedding. I’m not sure I can explain it clearly to you, but it…It’s as if I’ve been blind for a long time, and suddenly, I can see. Oh, where do I start?” He sighed and fell quiet, thinking. He was glad Julia didn’t try to fill the silence.

Finally he let himself meet her gaze. “Julia, I’m going to tell you some things tonight that I’ve never told you. But before I say anything else, I must tell you that I came here tonight to say goodbye. When I leave here, it will be for the last time. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about that.”

Julia’s bottom lip began to tremble, and tears slid, unblotted, down her cheeks. John watched her, knowing his words had caused her pain. It tugged at his heart, but he knew he had to continue.

“Julia, I’ve been fooling myself. I think we’ve both been fooling ourselves. We thought we could be just friends, but for me, at least, that’s been impossible. I’m pretty sure it’s been impossible for you, too.

She looked at her lap, twisted a tissue between her fingers.

“I thought so,” he said. “I’m sorry, Julia. As much as I didn’t intend to, I’ve fallen in love with you.” He held up his hand. “It may not be appropriate for me to tell you this now, but I want you to know that you’re a woman a man can easily fall in love with.”

“John…” She sniffed and wagged her head.

“No, hear me out. I know you’ll find someone. You’ll get married again. I’ve tied you down in the name of friendship, and that hasn’t been fair to you. There’s been a lot of unfairness all around on my part.” He hung his head, struck anew with shame over what he had almost allowed to happen.

“But more than anyone, I haven’t been fair to Ellen. At Brant’s wedding, when he and Cynthia spoke their vows, I felt as though a bolt of lightning went straight through me. Julia, I stood at an altar nearly thirty years ago and promised Ellen that I would love her in sickness and in health, and I have. I’ve never stopped loving her—the real Ellen. But there’s another phrase in the vows that says, ‘and to thee only will I cleave.’ I made that promise to Ellen also. I promised it for as long as we both should live.”

She looked at him with watery, red-rimmed eyes.

“Julia, if I stay with you another day, I will break every one of those vows. I can’t do that.”

He told her then about his father and about the oath he’d taken when his father died. He realized now that the reason he had never told her the story before was that it would have required too much of him. He would have had to face the duplicity of his behavior and the compromise of his principles. He hadn’t been willing for that.

“I know I will never have Ellen back the way she was, but I renewed my marriage vows to her this weekend, and God has renewed my love for her. I can’t explain it, and I know it won’t be easy, but I intend to keep every one of those vows if it kills me.”

Julia got up and went for a box of tissues. When she sat down again, she blew her nose and wiped away the mascara that smudged her cheeks. “I—I’m okay,” she reassured him. But her sobs came in racking heaves now.

It tore him apart. “Oh, Julia, if we’d met in another time, another place…” His voice trailed off. Hadn’t he always told her it was no use thinking about what might have been? “You’ve been such a great joy to me, but in these past weeks you’ve also become a great temptation, and I don’t think those two things can be allowed to exist in the same person.”

She nodded understanding and drew in a ragged breath.

“Most importantly,” he continued, “I’ve kept you from going on with your life. For that I need to ask your forgiveness. I recognize that I’ve been flirting with sin, and I’m so sorry I involved you. Please forgive me, Julia. I’ve been so wrong.”

He went on to tell her all the thoughts he had pondered since Brant’s wedding—how he had prevented her from grieving for Martin as she should, how unfair he had been to tie her to himself. And when all his words were finished, he waited for her to speak.

She took a deep breath and dabbed at her nose again. She looked so beautiful in the light of the dying embers, her eyelashes still spiked with tears. On the stereo, a violin concerto played softly, making the moment unbearably heartrending. John almost asked her to turn the stereo off, but somehow the music seemed fitting, and he let it go.

She looked at him and spoke in her soft, throaty voice. “John, it’s probably no surprise when I say that I’ve fallen in love with you, too. And I love you all the more for what you’ve just told me. You see, I fell in love with you because of your trustworthiness, your integrity, your sense of honor. I’ve been in such turmoil since I first realized that I love you. I knew if I could get you to declare your love for me, then you weren’t the man I thought you were. And if you were that man of integrity, then I knew I could never have you.”

She smiled sadly. “Now I have the best of both worlds—I know you love me, and you still have your honor. I do forgive you, John. In the deepest part of my heart, I haven’t felt right about us. I need your forgiveness, too, for not listening to God’s gentle voice warning me. I was an accomplice, John, and I’m sorry.” Again, she attempted a wavering smile. “Thank you, John. Though it doesn’t feel like it right now, I know this decision is a gift. I know it’s right. And, I know God will bless it.”

They sat together and shared aloud how blind they each had been to think their friendship was right when they had felt the need to keep it secret. She’d neglected her boys at a time when they needed her desperately; he had given his time and energy to her, rather than to Ellen. Further, their growing love for each other had forced them to turn from God for fear of their relationship being exposed for what it really was.

In a new love of unblemished purity, they released each other forever. John rose to go, and Julia followed him to the door. He did not embrace her or even touch her. He didn’t trust himself yet, and he knew Julia respected his weakness.

He turned out of her driveway—not toward Oaklawn, but toward his true home. Where Ellen was.

It was after nine when he walked through the front doors of Parkside. The nurses’ aides were in Ellen’s room, helping her get ready for bed.

“Thank you. I’ll take it from here.” He dismissed them politely.

Ellen stood statuelike in the middle of the room with her back to John. He went to her, and putting his hands gently on her shoulders, he turned her to face him, speaking her name softly.

Her eyes showed no recognition, but she gave him a wan smile. She wore a long flannel nightgown, and behind the vacant eyes, she was still beautiful. He led her to the chair by her window. He picked up her hairbrush from the bureau and began to brush her hair with gentle strokes, surprised at the familiar feel of the soft curls. It had been so long since he’d touched her in such an intimate way. She was quiet, alone in that faraway place of hers.

John smoothed her hair with his hands, moved by the tenderness his actions evoked. He poured her a glass of water and held the cup while she drank from it. He turned the bed down and helped her swing her legs over the side. He plumped her pillow and gently tucked the blankets around her. She closed her eyes peacefully. He pulled a chair beside her bed and watched her sleep, memories of their shared past floating in the semidarkness until the lights in the hallway were dimmed.

In a choked whisper, he repeated his wedding vows, promising to cherish her all the days of his life.

Then he went home and climbed into his own bed, at peace with himself and at peace with God.

He knew it wouldn’t always be this easy. He knew there might be more babbling and tantrums, and uncontrollable weeping in their future together. More frustration and anguish.

He also knew that he had done the right thing. He could look in the mirror and, without shame, face the man he saw reflected there. Whatever he must bear in the days to come, he knew his faith and God’s grace would bring him across to the other side, however wide the chasm might be.

His Bible was lying on the nightstand, and he noticed with chagrin that a fine layer of dust had gathered on its dark cover. Swinging his legs out to sit on the side of the bed, he opened the book in his lap and leafed through the pages, yearning for comfort and confirmation. Under his fingers the pages fell open to the book of Job. The words jumped off the page as though they were printed in boldface: “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him…. Indeed, this will turn out for my deliverance….”