Tender Vow (13 page)

“He is the boss, Diane. It’s his house.”

“Well, of course, it is, but you don’t let him bully you into believing he knows how to run things.”

“I don’t.”

She screwed her lips into a thoughtful pinch. “No, you don’t.” Uncrossing her arms, she leaned forward and steepled her fingers. “All right, then, what’s got you so tied up in knots? And don’t tell me it’s just the stresses of work, because you’ve always had to deal with deadlines, grumpy inspectors, incompetent workers, late shipments, no-show subcontractors, and…well, need I go on?” She narrowed her brown eyes to little slits and lowered her chin. “Are you trying to figure out that perfect moment for popping the question to Candace?” she asked in a near whisper. “Because, if that’s it, well, listen. I can give you a wealth of ideas.”

He raised a hand to halt her in her tracks. “I don’t doubt you for a minute, Di, but that’s—a long way off. I’m not sure—I don’t know.”

“Ah.” She folded her arms again. “Having doubts, are we?”

He picked up a pencil and started tapping the eraser end on his desk, wondering if he ought to seek her counsel or just keep his mouth shut. To date, he hadn’t breathed a word to anyone—except for Candace, herself, that Sunday in his condo. Ever since, their relationship had been on shakier ground. As if sensing his dilemma, Diane pulled a nearby chair closer and plopped into it.

“All right, out with it, boss.”

For the next several minutes, Jason confessed his mounting qualms about Candace, his concern over her apparent absence of true faith, and his utter lack of passion and zeal for the relationship. One thing he left out was any hint that his sister-in-law might somehow play into the scenario.

Diane had always been a good listener, and today was no exception. She leaned forward as he talked, kept her eyes focused intently on him, and nodded or shook her head empathetically where appropriate. When he finished, she pressed her back against the chair, crossed her legs and arms simultaneously, and lifted her chin. “Seems to me you’ve come to a crossroads, Jay, and it’s time you made a decision about your future with Candace. One thing is certain: you can’t leave her hanging much longer. It’s not fair to her.”

That statement stung but also rang true. He set to tapping his pencil again, staring for mind-numbing seconds at the drawings under his nose and the bound stack of unopened mail. “You’re right, I know; it just isn’t easy. It’s not that I don’t care for her. We’ve been through a lot together, including the loss of my brother. She was right there for me.”

Diane nodded, compassion in her countenance. Her gaze lifted to the window behind him. “Well, speaking of Candace, here she comes now. She’s looking gorgeous as ever.”

Jason dropped his pencil and swiveled in his chair. Yep. And she was dressed to the nines, looking ready for a night on the town. He couldn’t help the frown that played around his mouth. After all the time they’d dated, she’d certainly earned the right to show up at his place of business unexpectedly. So, why did it irritate him to see her prancing up the walk now in her fitted, black pea coat, skinny pants, and high-heeled boots, the fringed ends of her fuchsia scarf flying in the breeze?

Probably because that fluttery feeling he used to get when he saw her had been replaced with a sense of dread. He had to figure out a way to end it with her. And soon.

***

Rachel kicked the drift of sand with her booted toes, glad she’d bundled herself in her down jacket to ward off the harsh winds. Her nose stung, but she rejoiced in the simple pleasure of experiencing the pang. Just weeks ago, she’d been almost devoid of feeling, not much caring if she lived or died, but, lately, she’d sensed a rekindled awareness tickling at her core that reminded her of the preciousness of life. She had two healthy children who needed her and cherished memories of a mostly blissful marriage.

Of course, there’d been bumps in the road—what couple didn’t have those times? But most of their journey together had been sweet, save for those last few weeks of protracted silence that had followed that dreadfully heated argument. Oh, it pained her now to think about those days leading up to John’s departure for Colorado, but, for reasons she couldn’t quite grasp, she’d decided to force herself to deal with them. It seemed she had to get past them to heal.

“Lord, my faith is so fragile,” she confessed, her voice swallowed up by the hammering waves. “I need the strength of Your loving arms. Please, carry me.”

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, neither faints nor is weary. His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength.” Words she’d read from Isaiah just the other night came back to bathe and cleanse her anxious mind as she trudged the sandy beach. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, its reflection shimmering on the water like a ripe red apple.

“
You’re hanging on to something you should have let go of a long time ago,
” Jason had told her.
Easy for him to say
, she thought, kicking a piece of driftwood. He didn’t know about the argument she and John had had before the two brothers had set off on their ski trip—unless John had told him. How could she let go when she carried such shame? The secret memory of the kiss she’d shared with her husband’s brother must have saddened God; she knew it had saddened John when she’d stupidly confessed it. Oh, she hadn’t said something like she’d carried a torch for him, because she truly hadn’t. Still, she had owned up to that kiss in a moment of thoughtlessness, of cruelty.

***

Just after Halloween, John dragged out their age-old argument over money, warning her not to overspend at Christmas. As usual, she defended her right to indulge her friends and family with gifts. The debate escalated when he started picking apart her spending habits, saying she made too many frivolous purchases—jewelry, pairs of shoes to add to her ever-growing collection, dresses she wouldn’t be able to wear until she’d lost her “baby fat,” one more pink outfit for Meagan, and so much stuff for their unborn son that they had barely enough room to store it all. His biting words still haunted her, particularly the remark about her baby fat and the unspoken implication that her bulging belly made her less than attractive in his eyes.

From there, the argument exploded. Rachel asked how he could justify his skiing trip to the Rockies with Jason if finances were as tight as he implied they were. “I’ve been saving for that all year, and you know it. Unlike you, I save for my purchases,” he fired out at her.

After that, things turned nastier still, with words flying every which way, angry and accusing, baseless and ugly. Rachel impulsively and groundlessly accused him of finding his secretary, Ashley Forkner, prettier than she. Rather than tell his overly emotional pregnant wife how wrong she was, he chose to spit out that she might have been better off marrying Jason. “He loved you, too, you know!” he sneered.

The declaration jolted Rachel into a moment of stunned silence, until she sassily announced that Jason had kissed her exactly one week before their wedding. As soon as the words tumbled out and she saw the way his face dropped, she wanted to take them back. “I’m sorry, John,” she backpedaled. “I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have—” But any attempt to explain herself went unheard.

The color of his face went from red to white, and his response shook her to her toes. “I knew it, Rachel,” he said, his voice sounding oddly dull and dead. “You’ve always loved my brother.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Panic surged through her veins as he brushed past her on his way to the door, and she followed on his heels, weak in the knees from his accusation. “John, that kiss—it was foolish…childish,” she stammered, fighting back her useless tears while he opened the closet door and reached resolutely for his coat. “You were the one I loved. You always have been.”

His glower sent shivers up her spine. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I need to think.”

“About what?”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his back to her, but then he turned the knob and quietly walked out.

***

And that had been the extent of things. They’d never resolved the issue; they’d just avoided speaking about it at all costs, treated each other somewhat civilly, and said their good-byes with a brief kiss before he and Jason had left for the airport. Rachel had felt desperate to right things between them yet had been stubborn enough to think it was his duty to make the first move. How tangled and tattered things had been during those final days of his life—and how utterly helpless she still felt about all of it.

This memory only cemented in her mind the absolute necessity of keeping Jason at a distance, no matter how close he’d come to kissing her the last time she’d seen him, or how much she’d inwardly longed for it. Goodness gracious, she had no business entertaining thoughts of her brother-in-law, nor would she encourage his continued visits. For that reason, she’d all but ignored his attempts to contact her. She hoped he’d soon get the hint that spending time together wasn’t only foolhardy; it was plain wrong!

Glancing at her watch, she discovered that the time had come and gone when she’d promised her mother-in-law she’d return. Donna was so generous about volunteering to watch the kids, but she still suffered a good deal from the pain of losing her son and didn’t have quite the stamina necessary to take care of them for long periods. What Rachel had intended to be a simple trip to the grocery store had turned into a long walk on the beach when the sandy shores had called to her as she’d driven past the park.

With resolve, she stepped up her pace and made her way back to her van as an indefinable sense of divine peace came to rest upon her soul.

“All I need is You, God. You alone. Please give me strength as I sort through these unsettling memories,” she prayed.

Rest in Me, My child. My grace is sufficient.

It irked Jason profusely to find himself seated in the middle of a concert hall that night, listening to the city orchestra, when he would have preferred to be at home, snacking on take-out and reading, surfing the Internet, or watching a mindless movie—or sitting at Rachel’s house, taking in the delightful sounds of Meagan’s squeals and Johnny’s babble while he conversed with their mother. But that particular notion quickly fell away when Candace grabbed his hand possessively.

“Aren’t you glad I surprised you with concert tickets?” she whispered during a concerto, leaning into him and batting her pretty lashes. The signature, floral scent of her perfume created sickening waves in his gut.

“Yeah,” he muttered. He pasted a smile on his face and tried to appear completely taken in by the swelling tempos and complex harmonies, yet all they produced in him was an unnervingly restless spirit.

Lord God, I’ve got to tell her
, he privately confessed somewhere midway through the third or fourth movement of some classical, seriously boring, unbelievably long opus.

After the concert, they drove back to his office, where Candace had left her car. From there, he followed her to her apartment, all the while praying for direction, hoping that somehow during the course of the evening, a door would open and present him with an opportunity to end their long-standing relationship—without a mountain of harsh words spoken between them or a flood of hurt feelings. He figured he might as well wish for the moon.

“Okay, so you hated the symphony,” Candace said the second they entered her apartment, whirling around and producing a pouty frown. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you squirming in your seat.” She cast off her coat and flung open the closet door, grabbing a hanger and slipping her coat onto it. “Good grief! You yawned so loud that the guy in front of us turned around and gave you a dirty look.” Not offering to hang up his coat, she shut the door and turned to face him. He tossed his coat on the back of the nearest chair.

“I’m sorry, Candace. I truly appreciated the gesture. It’s just that I—”

“What?” She looked at him with those crystalline eyes.

Lord, give me strength.
“I’d have preferred to just relax after the long week.”

“For heaven’s sake, going to the symphony is supposed to relax you.”

Yeah, except when you’re wound tighter than a spool of thread.

Her expression turned soft as she reached up and slid her hands behind his neck, running all ten manicured fingernails through his hair. A skittish feeling swelled around his chest, but he hid the emotion. “Oh, I get it,” she whispered, a sly smile finding its way to her plump lips. “You’d have preferred that we snuggle up on the couch, maybe watch a romantic movie, and, who knows, perhaps even wind up doing something more interesting than going to that old symphony.” She stood on tiptoe, closed her eyes, and waited for a kiss.

He sighed, took her by the wrists, and lowered her arms. “Candace, we need to talk.”

In an instant, her countenance melted into a pool of worry, but she quickly recovered. “All right, but how about I make us some coffee first? Shall I turn on some music?” He could tell by the counterfeit buoyancy in her tone that she wanted to postpone any kind of serious discussion.

“No thanks on both counts.” He took her by the hand. “Let’s sit.”

In an almost robotic manner, she followed him to the sofa. They made themselves as comfortable as possible, she curling her legs beneath her slim body and folding her hands in her lap, he sitting forward, knees spread, elbows resting atop them. “Go ahead,” she said with forced lightness in her tone.

He prayed silently for courage. “Remember when we started talking a while back, and then you left early because of that storm? We were discussing Ray’s sermon and that whole topic of surrendering our all to Christ.”

“Well, of course, I remember. You started getting all preachy on me.” She giggled, but he failed to see any humor. She immediately sobered and laid a hand on his arm. “Jason, I know where this is going.”