Mixed Blessings (15 page)

S
he looked around the room, frantically trying to concoct an excuse. She wasn't about to go out there with him—not after she just figured out her heart was traveling down a hopeless road! “Um, Peter? I changed my mind. I think I'll pass tonight.”

“You can't do that to me! Not after what I've been through!”

Intrigued and a bit worried by his tone of voice, Marie steeled herself for the sight of him in his swim trunks and opened the door.
His shoulders are so wide…his arms so muscular and strong… Good grief, get a grip on yourself! Look up at his face and—
The sight jolted her. “What happened?”

His lips puckered toward her in an outrageous parody of a fish. He tried to speak with them that way. “The compwezzor bwoke. I bwew up da air maddrusses odd by mysoff!”

Giggles spilled out of her. He snatched her hand, and she didn't pull away. Peter chortled softly, then yanked her through the house and out to the backyard. Two bright
orange vinyl air mattresses floated in the pool. The late summer night air felt warm and velvety. Night-blooming jasmine filled the yard with its own special, sweet fragrance. Peter inhaled and declared, “Ahhh. Paradise.”

“Let's hope we're not raising Cain and Abel!”

Peter grinned at her. “No, we're not. The boys get along amazingly well.”

“They do, don't they?”

“We all do,” he replied as he led her to the steps of the pool where the lights turned the water an enticing shade of aquamarine.

She forced a smile. “Yes, we do.”
Oh, Peter, I think I'm getting along with you a little too well!

“What are we waiting for? Come on.” His fingers squeezed her hand a few times as an encouragement to join him. Together, they slowly descended into the warmed water and stopped when the level reached Marie's waist. “Want to swim a little while before we float?”

“I could use the exercise.”

Peter's gaze dropped from her face, downward and slowly back up. An appreciative glimmer lit his eyes. “You're already in beautiful shape.”

Marie stepped backward and said his name in a low, warning tone. The last thing she needed was for him to tempt her into making an utter fool of herself. Feeling as she did, that wouldn't take long.

“Aw, come on, Marie. You're lovely. I already told you I'd pay you honest compliments. Don't get all bent out of shape.” He punctuated his words with a quick, playful splash.

Marie let out a surprised squeal.

“Afraid of a little water?” His hand hit the water at a sharp angle and sent a spray over her.

“How can you ask that?” She laughed.
Playful. If I'm
playful, he won't read too much into this.
“You see me after I bathe the boys each night!”

“Uh-huh. You look like a drowned rat.”

Marie let out a shriek and used both hands to shove a wall of water at him. A water fight ensued. Marie gave just as good as she got. He went underwater, grabbed her legs, and dragged her below the surface. Marie tickled him to make him let her go, and she sprang to the surface. Finally, after they were both breathless from the horseplay, she took one final lunge at him. Peter opened his arms wide, caught her and twisted her in a weightless twirl all the way around before he came to a halt. They were heart to heart and stared at each other for a long, stunned moment. Marie slowly unwound her arms from his neck.
What in the world am I doing?

“Okay,” he rasped hoarsely. “I won that one. Let's float for a while.” He scooped a hand behind her knees, walked through the water and lifted her onto the bobbing raft.

It took a moment for Marie to catch her breath and find her tongue. It had all been in fun—but it had been so very long since a man held her. It felt good. Peter felt good—his strength, his gentleness. She'd begun to form more of a connection with him than she imagined she could. It scared her to discover she'd begun to open her heart to him. “I—um—I've had enough. I ought to go inside.”

“Not a chance.” Peter hovered over her raft. He pointed at his lips and puckered them up again. “We-member? I bwew up dis waft fo you.”

His face looked so comical, she smiled. “Far be it from me to hurt your tender feelings.”

Peter snatched his own raft, hopped aboard and caused a minor tidal wave in the process. He chuckled at Marie's
gasp as her raft bucked. “Sissy girl. Betcha you're a chicken on the roller-coaster rides!”

“It's a good thing you're not putting your money where your mouth is,” she shot back. “As far as I'm concerned, the bigger the chill, the better the thrill. The difference between those and your pool madness is, on roller coasters, I get a safety bar or harness.”

“Ahh.” Peter sculled over next to her. “Then I'll hold you and keep you safe.” He reached over and claimed her hand. Marie didn't know whether to pull away or leave things as they were. She never knew what to do when he sneaked under her defenses. Was he just being a nice guy, or did he have ulterior motives? Unsure of where she stood, Marie remained quiet.

“Look up there,” Peter said after they'd bobbed next to each other in silence for a short while. “Just for us. God gave us a blanket of stars.”

“Just for us?”

“Absolutely.” He turned his head and winked at her. “He whispers His love on the wind, too.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “I like that.”

“You know, after Darlene left and I spent sleepless months with Luke, I came out one night and lay here. The pool lights went out, and all I had was the starlight and a sliver of the moon to see by—and that night, I decided if God could surround me with that kind of majesty, He'd also cloak me with His love.”

“That's beautiful, Peter.”

His eyes held hers. “That realization filled an aching void inside of me. No matter how hard I tried, I hadn't been able to make my marriage last, but God's love for me didn't depend on situations or circumstances. It just was. I thought about how nothing Luke did would ever stop me from loving him, and I figured the Heavenly Fa
ther had that kind of love for His children, too. From that night on, I knew I could count on it, just as Luke could always count on my bottomless love.”

Marie turned away from his gaze and stared back up at the heavens. Peter's words were eloquent. He often spoke of his love for the boys or his family—but this was a glimpse of a part of himself he usually kept closed off. Rarely did he mention his marriage—and only out of necessity.

Marie wordlessly squeezed his hand.

“I like that about you, Marie.”

“What?” She turned her head on the raft pillow. It squeaked beneath her.

He stared straight back at her. “You don't rush in to fill silence with meaningless words. You listen—really, truly listen. Sometimes, I watch how you take things in and wonder what you're thinking.”

The last thing I need is for you to know what I've been thinking!
She tried to interject a flippant tone to her voice, “You could ask—but that doesn't guarantee an answer.”

Peter chuckled. “Oh, so you're going to hide behind the old feminine mystique?”

“It's a woman's prerogative.”

“I thought changing her mind was a woman's prerogative.”

“That changability is one facet of the mystique. We have to keep men guessing.” She disengaged her hand from his and looked at her fingers. “I'm getting pruney.”

“Stay a while longer and relax.”

“If I do, I'll fall asleep, roll off the raft and drown.”

“I'd catch you.”

Marie cocked a brow. “Horrors, no! We don't want the boys to be orphans!”

Peter pretended to think on it for a moment. He rubbed
his chin and drawled, “Well, let's see. Mom and Dad would rush in and claim to be their guardians, but Kate, Brianna and Jill would pitch royal fits and scramble to get their hands on the boys, and Sandy would come in—”

“And mow everyone over in her wheelchair,” Marie inserted lightheartedly. “She'd grab both of them and ride off into the sunset.”

Peter's chuckle rippled around her. “Guess we'd better be careful so the ‘survivors' can avoid an ugly scene like that.”

They floated under the balmy star-shot sky in companionable silence for a while. Peter trickled water through his fingers. It splashed softly into the pool. When Marie yawned, he towed her raft to the steps and they got out.

As they dried off, Peter asked, “You used to keep that cool little holder with the Bible promises on your kitchen table. I liked seeing the promise each day when I came down to visit. Where are those?”

“By my bed.”

He used the edge of his towel to catch a drop that slid from the hair at her temple. “Marie, this is your home, too. Those little things make a difference. I also like having reminders of God's faithfulness around the house. Do you mind bringing them out to the table?”

“If you'd like me to.”

“There's no time like the present.”

She went to her bedroom and brought out the box. It fit easily in her palm, yet Marie carried it cautiously. So often, God had spoken to her through those little strips of papers. The promises on them gave her hope and peace.

Peter met her in the kitchen. Once she set the box on the table, he asked, “Do you take the next one out of the front, or the back?”

“The back. That way, yesterday's is in the front so I
can still remind myself of it and today's is always a surprise.”

“So what was today's?”

Marie handed him the paper, and he read aloud. “Psalms 32:8—‘I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you shall go. I will counsel you with my eye on you.'” He looked at her and nodded somberly. “That's good. I like knowing He guides and leads us, and He keeps watch over us.”

“Yes. Well, I think I'll turn in. Good night.”

As Marie lay in bed, she wondered about Peter's words. Did he mean “us” generically because God watched over all of His children, or did “us” mean them and the children?
What's wrong with me? Why am I hoping “us” could just mean the two of us?

M
elway General Hospital had been notably silent for some time, when their attorney contacted Peter. Marie was passing by his study when Peter motioned for her to come in. He hit the speakerphone button so she could hear everything. “We will, of course, handle each of the cases separately,” the attorney said. “I'll settle with Mrs. Cadant. As a hospital administrator, I'm sure you'll understand part of the settlement is that you will not reveal to her any offer I place on the table.”

Marie's jaw dropped. Peter pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for her to sit down. He asked, “Why don't we all meet together and discuss this?”

“We'd rather not.”

“I'll have to get counsel on this.”

The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat, “Do you have representation?”

“Marie and I plan to share the same attorney.”

A sigh slithered across the phone line. “I see.” He paused, then said, “In that case, I need to deal with him. Could you give me his name, please?”

The next week, their attorney called. Marie invited him over that evening. After the boys were tucked in, she, Peter and Stuart Penny sat in the living room and pretended to sip the coffee Mrs. Lithmas had left for them.

“They're offering two and a half million for each parent/child pair,” Stuart said without preamble. “In return, they admit no blame. They want to make this go away quietly.”

“But what if they've done this with other babies?” Marie looked down at her hands.

“Nightmarish as it is, on very rare occasions, babies are mistakenly given to the wrong parents. I sincerely doubt this was an intentional, malicious act. In no way do I mean to excuse what happened. I'd never admit this in a court of law, but the simple truth is, both boys were born under extremely tense circumstances. Their emergency deliveries occurred within fifteen minutes in a very small community hospital. Frankly, my medical expert read the charts and says he's amazed they managed to spare Marie's life.”

Peter wound his arm around her and snuggled her closer. His lips brushed her temple as he murmured, “Thank God they did.”

She shivered.

“Reconstructing this is an imperfect science. Our best guess is it happened in the mad scramble right after the deliveries. There was only one nurse in the nursery. Both babies reached her almost simultaneously—one from the maternity operating room, the other from the emergency room where they'd delivered the Hallock baby as a last-ditch effort.”

Marie quietly asked, “Where is that nurse now?”

“I wanted to interview her. By all rights, we can depose
her, but there's a problem.” Stuart grimaced. “She's got end stage lung cancer.”

“Upsetting her won't change what happened,” Marie said. “This can't be altered. It would be cruel to burden her. If it's okay with you, Peter, I'd rather leave her alone.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Actually, I'd really like this whole matter to be kept quiet. The boys are both happy. That's what's most important. If the press gets hold of this they'll sensationalize it, and the boys may not come away emotionally intact.”

Marie nodded in silent agreement.

“You could,” the attorney said, “stipulate in any settlement that the boys receive counseling. Certainly the two of you are entitled. Do you have any other concerns?”

Peter stared out of the window. His expression went bleak. “Most of all, I'm worried that if this ever went public, the media would make suppositions about the size of the settlement. There is a world of greedy people out there who target rich families for kidnapping.”

The way his voice dropped to a hushed horror on that last word jolted Marie. She twisted and stared at him. “You never said anything!”

He grimaced. “I hate to think about it, but it is a consideration. I worry the boys would become targets.”

She studied his austere features and rested her hand on his arm. Pressing it firmly, she declared, “We don't need the money. We can forget it all.”

“Actually, they low-balled the offer.” Stuart shrugged. “I told them I'd present it, but only as a formality. They know full well it is only a fraction of what they should put on the table.”

“That kind of money would fund worthwhile chari
ties,” Peter mused. He looked at Marie. “What if we were to get Sandy set up in a place close by here? She's made major strides and she could live alone if she had an attendant. We could build or buy a place with a dozen customized apartments and hire a few of the physical therapy students at the college to live in as personal attendants.”

“I'd love to have her closer. Ricky misses her something fierce. But what about a job? She's been looking for work—”

“A nationally recognized center for kidnapping and related problems is about five miles north of here. I'll bet with proper funding, they could stand to hire Sandy and a few others. Most of their work is on computers or phones.”

“So we can pull the boys off the altar, like Isaac, and use the ram in the thicket?”

“Exactly.”

“I don't get it,” the lawyer said.

“In the Bible, Isaac was going to be sacrificed, but God provided a way out so he was kept safe,” Peter explained. “I don't want our sons put in any jeopardy with any media coverage. The potential danger of any attention whatsoever would always put them on the block, so to speak.”

“So we could make this all go away quietly,” Marie added, “and try to turn it into some good.”

Peter flashed her a smile. “We'll do it and call the complex Isaac's House.”

“There could be problems with the fact that a portion of that money is intended for the boys,” their lawyer pointed out.

“We can donate our share to the Isaac's House, Marie. The boys' names will be listed as property owners. The property is in trust and property appreciates. Would that suffice, Stuart?”

“If we draw up the papers, we can present them to a judge for approval.”

Marie's hand curled around Peter's arm. “If it's God's will, it will work out.”

“Families were meant to be together, Marie. Because He worked a miracle and brought us together, I can't imagine He'd refuse something as minor as this.”

 

Days passed. Marie continued to ease into her new life. Saturdays were family days, Sundays were church days and the rest of the time Marie tried to concentrate on doing things to blend their family and make things run smoothly. The boys were young enough to be flexible. They acted as if they'd been together all along. She cherished the time she had to devote to them.

Sandy came up for visits, and when she was back home she used the video camera equipment attached to her computer to have “face-to-face chats” with Marie and the boys. She'd even started teaching the boys the alphabet song, which they managed to botch in several creative ways.

Though Peter's father still worked, his mother didn't. She frequently dropped in for a few hours to play with the boys. Marie knew she wasn't a believer. Still, Marie refused to change things. Even when Lauren came over, Marie led the boys in prayers at meals and bedtime. If the boys singsonged part of “Jesus Loves Me,” Marie sang along. She prayed the Holy Spirit would woo her mother-in-law.

One afternoon, after they put the boys down for their nap, Marie caught Lauren giving the window a strained look. Marie's heart twisted.
Sweet Holy Spirit, she needs Your comfort.

Lauren joined her in the living room for a glass of iced
tea and stared at the small gold cross Marie wore about her neck. “I grew up in a family that went to church every Christmas. I never really understood why it was supposed to be such a big deal. After Lisa…” Her voice trailed off.

Marie sat quietly.
Lord, give me wisdom.

“After Lisa was taken,” Lauren rasped, “I decided I couldn't understand a God who gave His Baby away.”

“It was divine love. Because sin separated all of His children from Him, God sacrificed His own Son to regain all of us. As a mother, the magnitude of His gift overwhelms me. As His daughter, I'm thankful He was willing to give all He had to forgive me.”

Lauren shook her head. She set her glass down on a coaster. “I can't accept that. He let them kill His Son. Don't tell me God is love if He did that. No matter why He did it, the fact that He did tears my heart out. I want nothing to do with a God like that.”

“Lauren, my son was taken from me and restored to me…and I got the bonus of a second son. God gave His Son so all of us could become His children again.”

“You don't understand. No one can. My daughter was taken. I never got her back. He got His Son back. You got your son back. I never got Lisa back.”

“The pain of that is immeasurable,” Marie empathized. “But I think of how God has the ability to comfort you and meet you where you are because He also endured the pain of separation.”

Lauren twisted the glass back and forth on the coaster in a show of agitation.

“When my husband died, I struggled with similar feelings,” Marie confessed. “How could God rob me like that? Then I finally came to the point where I started being thankful for the time I did have with Jack. I realized that because he'd been in my life, I received a blessing—a
child. Since we were both believers, I know I'll see him again someday in heaven. That could be your one true hope—that if you find God, you'll see Lisa in heaven.”

“That's the difference between us. You can be thankful. Me? I'm still just angry. I'm not about to give myself to God when He let a kidnapper rip out my heart and soul.” She let out a brittle laugh. “You must think I'm a horrible person.”

Marie reached over and squeezed her mother-in-law's hand. “I'm not here to judge you. It's okay for you to be honest with me. God is big enough to handle your anger, and He's patient. If you ever want to talk about it, Peter and I are both willing to listen.”

Lauren lifted her glass with the other hand and took a quick sip of her tea. She then flashed an all-too-bright smile. “Hearing you say ‘Peter and I' really does my heart good.”

Marie didn't push the topic. She'd prayed for wisdom, and her heart told her to head on toward the new topic. “I have to give you a lot of credit. You reared a fine son.”

The boys giggled in the other room. Lauren grinned, and some of the tension melted from her shoulders. “It looks like you'll have your hands full, rearing those two.”

 

The judge was impressed with the plans Marie and Peter drew up for Isaac's House. He'd given approval, and they spent an evening driving around the area to look at existing places that could be retrofitted and adapted. After viewing the third place, Peter tucked Marie close to his side and told the real estate broker, “Let's forget about retrofitting and remodeling a place. Widening doorways and lowering counters is only a part of the requirement,
and I think all of the places you've shown us would end up looking too crowded and clinical.”

“What do you have in mind?” the agent asked.

“Land.” Peter smiled at Marie as he said, “Show us all of the good-size lots that are available.”

“There are only four possibilities.”

The fourth place was perfect. They put in a bid, and the sale closed within days. An architect conferred with a disability expert before he started drawing blueprints. Sandy expressed her delight with the whole concept. Peter gave her a fax machine so she could send information, pictures and ideas to them. Her boyfriend continued to drop her off and picked her up for short visits when his trucking route took him by. He'd volunteered that he was going to change routes because seeing Sandy was important to him.

“The preliminary blueprints and specs will be ready soon,” Peter told Marie one morning before he left for work. “If you get a chance, could you ask Mom or one of my sisters to mind the boys so we can sit down and look at them carefully? Either the tenth or eleventh would be best for my schedule.”

“Will do.” She wiped an orange juice mustache off of Luke.

“What's today's promise verse?” Before he went to work each morning, Peter took time to read the new slip or asked Marie to. They'd made it a little family devotion time—just a quick read, then a sentence or two of prayer. He'd come to relish those few moments when his family came together spiritually.

“Here, Daddy. I help you.” Ricky fumbled to grab the next slip from the holder, then handed it to him.

“Thanks, tiger.” He turned his attention to the little blue paper and began to read aloud. “Romans 5:8—‘But
God commends his own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.'”

“I love that verse.” Marie smiled. She looked at the boys. “It tells me even when I did bad things, God still loved me so much, He sent Jesus to die on the cross.”

They held hands in a quick prayer, then Peter kissed all three of them on the cheek and headed out the door. He'd worried about whether Marie was happy, but in the past several days, she seemed to smile more. He often heard her laughing with the boys. She was accustomed to working. Having her help with Isaac's House was a stroke of good luck. She'd been creative, considerate and insightful. Maybe this was God's way of giving what she needed—an outside interest.

In the past, Peter had often worked on weekends to handle business matters that couldn't be put off until Monday. Ever since he'd met Marie and Ricky, he couldn't do that. He'd gotten behind on several matters. His vice president was taking over more of the load, but Peter wanted to be scrupulously fair. He'd started doing more in the late evening after Marie and the boys went to bed. He looked at the stack of files on his desk and grimaced. He ought to take them all home tonight. Tomorrow was Friday, and he didn't want anything interfering with their weekend.