Need You Now (36 page)

She closed her eyes.
Why is this happening, Lord? Why?

It was all she could do to pray tonight. She'd always heard that God wouldn't give you more than you could handle. When she'd walked into Grace's room, with the blood, the cuts on her baby girl—at that moment, she was sure she couldn't handle anything else. Never in a million years would she have thought Brad would do something like this. And every time she tried to reconcile her thoughts, she wondered if maybe she was wrong. But what other reason could there be for his sharp tone with that woman, and his saying that if Darlene found out, their marriage would be over? And what about the many phone calls every day? Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned away as Brad walked from the bathroom, his hair wet, a white towel around his waist.

“You okay, baby?” Brad opened his drawer for some underwear, and Darlene was glad he wasn't looking directly at her. She was already ready for bed. Dabbing at her eyes, she rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Me too. Long day.”

She heard him slip into his boxers and a T-shirt, and he crawled into bed. While he flipped the channels on the television, Darlene fought the sobs in her throat. How could he just lie there beside her, like everything was normal?

Darlene had never felt more abnormal in her life, like she was in someone else's bad dream.

The next morning, Brad dressed for work, ate a quick bowl of cereal, and kissed Darlene before he walked out the door. Just like he'd always done. She wanted to ask him about Barbara so badly that her stomach hurt. Maybe having it all out on the table would be better than the wondering, speculating— the horrible visions in her head. Or . . . would the truth be so terrible she'd never get over it? What if she confronted him and he wanted a divorce? What if he was in love with this woman?

The kids left for school shortly after Brad, and Darlene forced herself to do the household tasks that morning. But nothing could distract her from what she'd overheard. She looked out the window and across the pasture at Layla's house—again. Tom's car was still there, and she didn't want to intrude. She was happy for Layla and hoped things worked out for her and Tom, but right now she sure needed Layla's blunt honesty. Layla would tell her what to do.

Finally, around noon, Tom's car was gone. Layla might have gone with him somewhere, but Darlene grabbed her cell phone to find out. When Layla answered, Darlene hesitantly asked if she was home. When Layla said yes, Darlene invited herself over. Fifteen minutes later, she was on Layla's couch telling her everything.

“It's terrible that I went through his phone records and his briefcase and everything, isn't it?” Darlene laid her head back against Layla's couch and closed her eyes, waiting for Layla to tell her that she was perfectly justified.

“I don't understand why you don't just ask him about it.” Layla crossed one leg over the other in the chair across from her. Once again, she looked like the movie star she once was, dressed in a bright-red halter sundress with lipstick that matched the dress perfectly. Her hair was long and loose below her shoulders, and she kicked one of her bare feet back and forth, the color of her toenails the same color red as her fingernails. Darlene didn't think she could ever look that glamorous, and it seemed to come so naturally to Layla. Even when Layla was in her blue jeans, work shirt, and boots, she was beautiful. And today, there was an aura of calm surrounding her. Her voice was softer, she spoke slower, and her movements weren't as sharp and quick as they usually were. Darlene felt terrible for dumping all this on her friend, but Layla was all she had. Now, more than ever.

“I'm afraid of what he'll tell me,” she finally said, then swallowed hard.

Layla looked at her long and hard. “Tom cheated on me once, a few years after Marissa was born.”

“So what happened?”

Layla shook her head. “Biggest fight we ever had. I threw things, punched him in the chest, and cried until I didn't have any more tears.” She paused. “Then I forgave him.”

Darlene raised an eyebrow. “Just like that? You forgave him?”

“We lived a crazy life back then.” She gazed off for a few moments before she looked back at Darlene. “Opportunities to be bad were abundant. But I knew deep down that Tom loved me, and I wanted us to stay a family, to raise Marissa together. And no . . . I didn't forgive him just like that. It was hard to trust him for a long time.” She paused again. “I punished him for probably longer than I should have, but . . . eventually we grew back into the couple we'd been before. Then . . .” Layla got up and walked to the hutch against the wall. She picked up a picture of Marissa. “Then I just couldn't look at him after Marissa died. I blamed him. I blamed me. I blamed God. And he did the same thing.”

“But things are good now?” Darlene wondered if she and Brad would fall apart and eventually make things right. She wasn't sure she'd survive all that.

Layla brought the picture to her heart, pressed it there for a while, then put it back on the hutch. She turned to Darlene and slowly walked back to the chair and sat down. “Yes. Things are good. It doesn't mean we will get back together, but we are in a good place.”

Darlene nodded. “So what do I do about me and Brad?”

“Talk to him.”

“I can't. I'm afraid.” She blinked back tears.

“What are you most afraid of?”

She thought about the question. “That . . . that he loves someone else.”

“I doubt that. I thought you guys had a good marriage.”

“Everything's been great, not perfect. I mean, we've had our moments when we're tired, stressed about money, kids, or something. But overall, yeah . . . we've had a very good marriage. I've always thought of Brad as my best friend, and I can't stand to have this between us, and . . .” She stopped when she started to cry. “I'm sorry, Layla. I just don't know who else to talk to.”

“Yes, you do.” Layla smiled. “You know exactly who to talk to.”

“I guess I have to confront Brad about this.” She blinked her eyes a few times, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That's not who I meant. If you hadn't given me a little push to pray again, I don't think I would have ever gotten the strength to press forward, to believe that it was okay to be happy again. Pray about it, Darlene.”

“I have been.” It was the truth, but Darlene felt like she was detached somehow from God, and she couldn't figure out why. “You said one time that when God thinks our life is too good, He humbles us by taking something away from us, and—”

“Oh, good grief. Forget all that, Darlene. Really. I was so angry at God, and a bottle of wine usually fueled my rage enough to blame everything on Him. I shouldn't have said all that, and you shouldn't take it to heart.”

“I need you to tell me what to do.” Darlene threw her head against the back of the couch again. “Should I just talk to him, get it over with?”

“I just told you what I think you should do. I think you should pray about it.”

Frustrated, she got off the couch. She wanted Layla to lay it out for her, a plan, something besides the obvious. Darlene had been praying, about her and Brad, about Grace. Something wasn't clicking, and she needed some direction. “I better go.”

“Oh, don't be mad.” Layla stood up. “I know you came here for me to tell you what to do, and a few weeks ago, I'd have probably told you to string that boy up by his . . .” She took a deep breath. “But life is too short.”

Then Layla did the unexpected. She walked over to Darlene and hugged her, and she let Darlene cry in her arms.

Despite the chaos in her life, Darlene knew one thing for sure: Layla was her friend, and she was thankful for that.

Now she needed to go home and get ready for the inevitable.

She had to confront Brad.

Chapter Eighteen

Brad pulled into the driveway, hoping the package from UPS had been delivered today. And he was glad that Barbara seemed to be listening to him, to his way of thinking. The woman was going to destroy him if he wasn't careful. He hurried up the porch steps. Darlene was in the kitchen.

“UPS show up today?” He kissed her on the cheek. “Mmm . . . smells good in here.”

“No. I was at Layla's for a while around noon, but I've been home the rest of the day, and no deliveries.” She pulled plates out of the cabinet as Brad helped himself to a glass of tea.

“Well, maybe tomorrow. I know it was back-ordered, so I'm not sure exactly when to expect it.”

As she laid the plates on the table, Brad noticed her red and swollen eyes for the first time. He edged closer to her. “What's wrong? Did everything go okay at Grace's counseling session?” Brad had been praying a lot for Grace, and his heart raced as he waited for Darlene to answer.

“I spoke with Dr. Brooks after Grace's session, and she thinks Grace is making progress.”

Brad breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” After he took another sip of his tea, he leaned down, touched Darlene on the arm. “Then why do you look like you've been crying? You okay?”

She eased away from him, opened the oven, and pulled out a casserole. “I'm okay. Just tired.”

After she put the dish on the table, Brad walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He kissed her on the neck. “Maybe we can go to bed early.”

“Maybe.”

There was no mistaking the way she tensed up.

Darlene had been distant the past few days, but he knew better than to push his wife. She'd talk to him when she was ready.

Three days later, Darlene still hadn't confronted Brad. Talking to him might end everything she'd cherished and known to be true throughout her entire marriage. She wasn't ready to face a reality that might shatter her whole life. Her stomach was a wreck, but she thought that not knowing was better than what Brad's reaction might be. Would he adamantly deny being involved with Barbara? Would he say it was over? Would he lie to her?

If Brad lied to her, she would know. He was a terrible liar. When she'd guessed her Christmas present last year, Brad had looked her in the eye and denied getting her the pearl necklace she'd pointed out a few weeks earlier at a jewelry store in the mall. She'd just smiled and let him think that it would be a surprise. Brad loved to buy her gifts, but he never could keep a secret.

She sat down on the couch, stared at the ham sandwich she'd made herself, and forced a bite down.

Apparently Brad had been successful about keeping his secret about Barbara, so maybe he was a better liar than she'd thought. She put the sandwich on the plate beside her as she eased her feet up on the coffee table. Her house was the cleanest it had been in years. Staying busy had kept her mind occupied, but she'd run out of things to clean. And with the kids in school, it was quiet enough for her mind to wander to bad places.
Is Brad having lunch with Barbara right now? Are they in a sleazy hotel somewhere? Or maybe Brad ended it?

She took a few more bites of her sandwich before she went to the kitchen and tossed it in the trash, knowing she needed to do something. As she looked around for ways to occupy her time, she heard a car coming up the driveway.