Song of the Brokenhearted (14 page)

Ava said with more strength than she felt, “I know we will get through this. Just please don't tell anyone tonight.”

Dane nodded and Ava caught a quick flash of worry in the clench of his jaw. “It'll be known by Monday. The papers got it.”

Ava took a deep breath and bit the edge of her lip. “The papers? Really?”

“It's news, especially in Dallas.”

“Well then, tonight we should dance a bit. Let's enjoy it, okay?” she said, wondering if she could actually dance to this tune. Dallas society wasn't an easy contender. The women of the city could bind together in a crisis, or they could tear someone apart when scandal was revealed. Ava straightened the sleeve of her black dress. Perhaps God was teaching her not to care what anyone thought . . . or it might be much more than that.

“And to think I planned to bid on that ten-carat diamond bracelet,” Ava said with a laugh.

“We can. But it might be embarrassing when our credit card isn't accepted.”

Ava swallowed hard even as she snickered at his joke. The reality was setting in, breaking out beads of sweat down her back.

“Can't we go home and pretend that we're sick?”

He gave her a sad expression. “We can do whatever you need to do. I've been trying to protect you from this, and what happens, I drop the bomb on you during one of the most inappropriate times. I know these events are already stressful enough for you.”

Ava appreciated the sentiment, but it didn't ease her tangled emotions. “We're already here, and I did force you into telling me.”

“We can leave,” Dane said, looking deeply into her eyes.

“I can hold my head up high. After all, I have the most handsome husband in all of Dallas,” she said with gusto.

They stepped back into the hallway and toward the ballroom. A photographer snapped pictures as if the attendees were movie stars. Dane walked with his hand pressed against Ava's back, which provided a surprising amount of strength.

Ava took shallow breaths as she tried to remember what this night was about. Tammy Blake had worked on this event for a year with Ava meeting with her monthly to offer advice and ideas. After her young son's death from a rare genetic disease, Tammy had turned her energies toward helping other families whose children were suffering. The ball was her first gala event.

“I'm impressed,” Dane said, drawing her closer as they entered the ballroom. The elegant décor was layered with reminders of childhood. The tables sparkled with china dinnerware and centerpieces, and each setting had a card with a child's picture and the story of their dreams as well as a short description of his or her illness.

“I'm so proud of her,” Ava said, spotting Tammy leaned in toward a hotel staffer with an intense expression on her face.

At the far end of the ballroom was the dance floor and stage with instruments propped up on stands awaiting the musicians to bring them to life.

As Ava and Dane took in the ball, they greeted familiar faces, and Ava tried to cling to his hand and stay joined together. But they were soon separated as Dane was pulled away by a group of men he'd met at a golf tournament, and Ava turned to a tap on her arm, then the careful hug of a longtime friend.

“You look amazing as usual,” Jean said, looking up and down at Ava's black dress. Ava thanked her and complimented her gown, which sparkled with sequins much too daring for Ava's taste. She enjoyed how Jean was bold in that way. In her early sixties, the woman stood out with her flashy everything: car, purse, clothing, giant belt buckles with tight jeans. Her hair was always twice the size of her head, even when pulled into a bun.

Once, when they'd roomed together at a women's conference, Jean had tried brightening Ava up with bold red lipstick and sparkling jewelry. Ava felt like a Christmas tree and had to tone it back, despite Jean's disappointment. But Jean could pull it off. Her entire demeanor flashed with style and personality that people said was the epitome of a rich Texas trophy wife.

“How's our girl Sienna and that wedding planning?”

Ava glanced toward Dane as if seeking a life preserver.

“She came for a visit last weekend. She's doing well.”

“And she'll get back to Dallas once they're married, correct?”

Ava wanted to avoid lying, but she hadn't spoken to her daughter about the breakup yet, and she certainly wasn't letting the news loose in this room until she knew the details.

“Oh perfect, I'd hoped we would see one another here,” Corrine George said to Ava, bustling up to them in her floor-length gown that rustled as she walked. “Hello, Jean,” Corrine said coolly.

Ava realized she'd never responded to Corrine's e-mail about the direction of Broken Hearts.

Jean looked at Corrine with distaste, ignoring her greeting. “I'll talk to you a little later, Ava. I believe we're sitting at the same table.”

“I declare, Ava,” Corrine said as Jean walked away, “you seem to surround yourself with people who surely won't be like iron sharpening iron.”

“What are you talking about?” Ava said, staring at the woman. Corrine would be almost pretty if she didn't have a near constant scowl on her face.

“That woman cheated on her first husband with the man she's married to now.”

“They've been married for twenty-something years, and it's none of my business, Corrine.”

“It is your business who you have in your life.”

Ava sighed, searching for Dane and a way out of this conversation. Sometimes it surprised Ava that she was involved with church and other Christians to the extent that she was. After a childhood of religious constraint and domination, she sometimes reexamined her reasons behind her involvement and the core of her faith. Why should she believe? Why should she subject herself to the multilayered complexities found in any church?

Her faith came down to trusting and seeking God, and the belief in Him she'd found outside of what her childhood had told her about God. She wanted to know the real God, not the one forced down her throat in childhood. What surprised Ava most was that her love for other Christians had returned. As a child she'd loved the people in her daddy's congregation. And flawed as they were, Ava often was warmed by the love that overtook her as she heard the stories and tried comforting the tears of people who wanted to truly know who God was.

But the people who acted like Pharisees, who reminded her of her grandmother, those were the hardest for her. Corrine was a thorn in her side, but Ava tried to be patient. There was some kind of pain or fear that was the engine running Corrine's attitude. If Christ loved this woman as much as He loved all the rest of them, shouldn't Ava try harder as well?

“Did you receive my e-mail?” Corrine asked with a smile.

“I did. We'll have to talk about it soon—I had my daughter visiting recently and this week has been quite busy.”

“I was sorry to hear about your son,” she said, and Ava's stomach clenched.

“My son?” she asked, frowning.

Corrine leaned close to her. “The incident at his school.”

Ava nodded and smiled. “Yes. Teenagers are certainly a challenge at times.”

“I say this because I care, truly.”

Ava waited for the “but” that was coming next.

“But as your sister in Christ, I have to tell you that this incident with your son might have something to do with what I was writing about in that e-mail. It might be related to the people you associate with. I always examine my own life and heart when these things start happening.”

Ava didn't speak for a moment. She'd grown up being told that everything bad that happened was because of your own secret sin. When she'd broken her arm climbing a tree, it was her fault for disobeying her aunt. When she and Clancy had to stay at Grannie's house where she sometimes locked them outside for days, it was Clancy's or Ava's fault, something they'd done wrong that sent their father off evangelizing at other churches to make amends for their sins. Ava remembered sitting in her bed as a child, afraid to get out because she would begin sinning, and who knew what harm would come to her or her family because of it.

“I appreciate your concern.” Ava glanced around, spotting another friend waving her over.

“I'll keep praying and expect to hear from you about the e-mail soon,” Corrine said with frank disapproval.

Later, while standing in a group of women, Sonya Peters—a woman Ava suspected had a crush on Dane by the way she tried flirting with him at every social event—set her hand on Ava's arm and said, “Ava, honey. I want you to know we've been really thinking of your family. We heard about Jason. And I know a great rehab center that my brother went through.”

Ava stared at the woman. “Thank you, but I don't think he needs rehab.”

Sonya raised her eyebrows. “Please don't get defensive. I really mean this with the best of intentions. You can't ignore these things. And when someone is in trouble beneath our own roofs, we can't be blind to the severity.”

“I appreciate your concern. Now if you'll excuse me.” Ava stepped away and heard another woman whisper, “I think her husband's company is in trouble as well.”

Ava found Dane holding a glass of wine and staring off while standing in a group of people discussing politics. She took his arm and led him away.

“I'm feeling ill now. Can we go home, or will that make a scene?”

“Scene or no scene, let's get out of here.”

They walked toward the door as inconspicuously as possible, when a voice came over the sound system, silencing the room. Ava watched as the coordinator of the event, Tammy Blake, stepped onto the stage holding a microphone.

“Run for it,” Dane whispered, tugging at her hand. They took careful steps through the crowd, stopping here and there to avoid notice.

“We are just thrilled to have you all here tonight. We have a wonderful night planned for y'all. Before we get started, I've got to thank my mentor in all of this, Ava Kent. This could not have occurred without all your guidance. Will you please come up here with me?”

“We almost made it,” Dane said, kissing her cheek as the room full of faces turned toward her.

Ava smiled and waved, hoping Tammy would let her remain where she was, but people motioned her forward.

“I'm guessing that Ava or her handsome fella are going to be bidding on that ten-carat diamond tennis bracelet. We'll let her have a first go at it, but please bid against her. Be generous now. It's for the children.”

After the crowd gave her a round of applause and Tammy gushed further about her help, Ava walked off the stage. She was directed toward the tables of the silent auction, but motioned toward the ladies' room. “Just a minute, I'll be right back,” she said to a few people who tried to stop her along the way.

Dane met her near the bathrooms, and together they raced for the exit. Ava turned and saw Corrine coming from the bathroom. Their eyes met and Ava had a sudden shiver wash over her, but she refused to go back to the belief that God was punishing her or her family. Instead, perhaps He was opening new doors that would change their lives forever.

Sixteen

A
VA OP ENED HER EYES TO
J
ASON STANDING BESIDE THE BED
studying her with a strange look on his face.

“Are you sick?” he asked. He was fully dressed with his backpack on his shoulder.

“No, I'm fine. What time is it?” she muttered as she saw the time on her alarm clock. She sat up fast and felt a sharp rapping on the side of her head.

“Headache,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You don't have to get up. Dad's taking me to school. I was just coming to say good-bye, but want some medicine?”

She blinked her eyes. “Your dad is taking you?”

“Yeah. And he made me waffles.”

“He did? With bacon inside?”

Jason only liked bacon waffles or else he wanted pancakes instead—a quirk she indulged despite the fact it was the same batter for both.

Her son smiled, something she hadn't seen in over a week. “We were out of bacon so he used your salad bacon bits. Not quite as good, but worked for me. He made one for you but without the bits.”

“That was nice.” Ava leaned back on one elbow. Dane had made only a few breakfasts in all their years together—she could count them on one hand.

“I made the coffee. It's kind of strong.”

“Strong sounds exactly right for this morning,” Ava said. Jason agreed and lingered in the room as if wanting to tell her something. “Are you all right? You're finally speaking.”

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly.

He sat on the edge of the bed with a look of shame. His backpack slumped onto the bed next to her legs. The instinct to take him into her arms nearly overwhelmed her.

“I'm sorry, Mom. Really sorry.”

Ava didn't respond, fighting the compulsion to say that it was all right, for him not to worry, that all was forgiven. She didn't want it to continue, whatever was going on with her son.