Redemption (40 page)

The snow was coming down harder than before, and weather reports predicted it could dump two feet before it was done. On the way home, Tim and Kari stopped at the market and picked up enough groceries for the week, just in case.

By the time they got home, snow had turned the driveway white, and the drifts covered the first three steps leading to their front door.

Kari sat motionless in the passenger seat and stared at the walkway. “Think it’s safe?”

Tim followed her gaze. “What?”

“The steps.” She turned to him, her hand over her round belly. “It rained earlier. What if there’s ice under the snow?”

“Nah.” He looked at his watch. “It’s still early. There won’t be ice until later.”

She felt the baby kick beneath her fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”

“Honey, there’s no ice.” He smiled widely and opened the car door. “I’ll go first and show you.”

He trudged through the snowdrifts and was glancing back at her, giving her the okay sign, when he connected with the first step and slipped. Like something from a slapstick comedy, his arms flailed out to his sides, and he landed flat on his back, disappearing into the snow.

“Oh!” Kari climbed out and marched as fast as she could toward Tim. “Honey, are you okay?”

“I think so.” The words were muffled, and as Kari reached him, she saw why. The snow had fallen on him, leaving him with a white beard. His eyes were the only part of his face visible. He looked like he was made of snow.

They stared at each other for a moment, wide-eyed; then Tim spit the snow from his mouth. “Like I said, no ice.”

The giggles had been building in Kari since she caught Tim’s surprised expression as he fell. Suddenly she couldn’t hold them in any longer. Laughter poured from her as it hadn’t in months, and she collapsed beside him in the snow, brushing the wet stuff off his face as he, too, laughed out loud.

By the time Tim made his way up the steps and helped her do the same, they were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. As they collapsed on the sofa in the front room, Kari had tears in her eyes. “The look on your face . . .”

“Right, go ahead and laugh at a poor injured man.”

“Well, a poor injured snowman . . .”

The laughter continued until finally they were both exhausted. Only then did Kari realize something she hadn’t before. This was the first time they’d laughed together, really laughed, since long before Tim moved out.

After months of anger and betrayal and grief beyond words, a seed of love and laughter deep inside them had survived. If they could laugh together now, after the long seasons of fall and winter their counselor had described, it could mean only one thing.

Spring was on the way.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Prayer was as much a part of Dr. John Baxter’s life as breathing. But it had been weeks since he’d felt the urge to pray as strongly as he did the next afternoon, less than twenty-four hours after the dinner party for Brooke.

Generally when the desire to pray was this urgent, it was attached to the face of someone he dearly loved—one of his children or possibly Elizabeth. But the prompting that kept calling him to prayer this day was not connected to any of them.

John waited until he’d seen his last patient and then locked himself behind his office door. Almost immediately he slid to his knees and closed his eyes.

What is it, Lord? Is someone in trouble?

For a long while there was silence, but then very strongly the image of Kari came to mind. That was it! He was supposed to pray for his second-oldest daughter. Of course. The baby wasn’t due for three months yet, but she’d had a doctor appointment that morning. Maybe something was wrong, some kind of complication. His mind raced with the medical possibilities.

There were too many to consider.

Instead, he prayed feverishly for Kari and her unborn child, for protection and mercy and kindness and grace. Most of all, he prayed that God himself would speed the healing between Kari and Tim so they could be the kind of family Kari wanted . . . the kind their baby needed.

Normally as John prayed, the burden would lift. But this time, the longer he stayed on his knees the more desperate the sense of need became. After nearly thirty minutes of beseeching God on his daughter’s behalf, he finally fell silent.

What else, Lord?

In response a face came to his attention, but not one John would have expected. Knowing it was what God wanted him to do, he closed his eyes again and considered the man whose image filled his mind. Kari’s husband, Tim.

John prayed for Tim as he hadn’t in a very long time, asking the Lord to be close to the man, wherever he was that day, and to offer him hope and cleansing and salvation beyond anything he’d ever dreamed possible.

This time when he finished praying, he felt a peace and assurance in his soul. But he felt something else too. Something unsettling. He moved more quickly than usual as he gathered his things and prepared to go home.

Halfway there, he realized it wasn’t just an unsettling thought that filled his heart.

It was a sense of impending doom, a sense that no matter how much he prayed or how fast he drove, something terrible was about to happen.

Five minutes before Tim Jacobs left his office that day, he got an idea. Instead of heading straight home, he would stop at a florist’s shop and buy Kari the biggest bunch of red roses the shop had.

After all, they had cause to celebrate.

For one thing, it was exactly three months until the baby’s due date. But the day marked an even more important milestone for them. They’d started laughing again. The night before had been the best Tim could remember having in months. Years, even. For the first time, Tim had the sense that Kari had really forgiven him—not just
wanted
to forgive him—and that they were going to make it after all. And that called for at least a dozen roses.

There was one more thing worth celebrating, something he tried not to dwell on too much: Angela had done nothing to pursue him.

Initially he’d been sure she’d call or come by his office, confused by his sudden departure or sure she could get him to change his mind. But apparently his note had been clear. Other than a long series of voice-mail messages she left on one particular day, she hadn’t been in touch.

Though he occasionally felt the desire to call her and apologize, he knew the counselor’s advice was wise. He had to stay away at all costs. Once an affair was over, there could be no going back.

He gathered a stack of papers and had one foot out of his office when the phone rang. It was unusual for him to get calls this late in the day, and he almost left it for the voice mail, but then he reconsidered. What if it was Kari? Maybe there was a problem with the baby or she needed him to bring home something from the store.

Tim propped open the door with his briefcase, tucked the folder of papers under his arm, and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

There was a strange sound, and after a few seconds Tim realized someone was crying on the other end. His stomach tightened. “Kari?”

The caller didn’t answer, and the soft crying sounds stopped. “It’s me.”

Angela’s voice hit him like a physical blow. Tim sat down on the edge of his desk and swallowed. It was the call he’d been dreading. “Hi.”

She sniffed. “I . . . I know you’re back with your wife. But I had to call you. Something’s come up.” Another few sobs sounded. “Tim, I’m . . . I’m pregnant.”

As the words filtered through his brain and into his soul, Tim slid slowly down the side of his desk and landed on the floor, the folder under his arm falling next to him. He rested his head on his knees and tried to calm his racing heart.

A hundred fears ignited in his gut, and nausea came over him sure and fast. If Angela was really pregnant, then everything he’d clung to, every hope that someday Kari and he would share a marriage that would outshine even their early days as a couple—all of it had been destroyed in an instant.

He closed his eyes and imagined having two children by two different women, children who would know their father’s sins as clearly as they knew their names. Even if Kari was willing to stand by him while his illegitimate child was born to Angela Manning, they could never have the wholesome family life he so desperately desired.

And all of it—every dying dream—was entirely his fault.

“Tim, are you there?” He heard fresh tears in Angela’s voice and a frustration she’d never revealed before.

He inhaled. The floor no longer felt stable. “I’m here.”

“Well . . . what am I supposed to do?”

His mind worked to find a focus point, to accept the truth of what had happened. “Uh . . . right.” He would have to tell Kari first, break the news to her tonight. The last thing he wanted was to see Angela Manning without his wife’s knowing about it. “Are you sure? You took a test?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she huffed. “What happened to us, Tim? You told me you loved me, remember? And yes, after two people live together for weeks on end, a pregnancy is a real possibility.”

He knew he should feel compassion, and he did. He was sorry for her, even sorrier for her unborn child. But something in her tone caused him to know without a doubt that he didn’t love this woman. He never had. She had been merely a diversion, a mistake. And somehow that made the situation worse.

“I’m sorry, Angela.” Tears welled in his eyes. That was an understatement. “I don’t know what to say.”

There was a pause, and she sniffed again. “We need to talk.”

Tim massaged his temples and felt the beginning of a migraine. “Okay. Tomorrow, noon, in my office.”

As he hung up the phone and gathered his things, he felt an ache in his chest and knew it was his heart breaking. From that moment on, nothing about his future would ever be the same again.

And now he had to go home and tell Kari.

Dirk Bennett’s body was colder than it had been in his entire life. His fingers were numb, and his teeth chattered. But deep within was a fire, a passion that made the night seem almost warm.

He gazed out the window of his pickup and stared at Angela’s apartment.

Soon, my baby . . . soon.

A small, hinged box sat on the front seat beside him, and he reached for it, feeling his arms ripple with the motion. They were muscled enough that it was almost difficult to bend them. Gently, tenderly, he lifted the box lid and stared at the diamond ring inside, the one he had purchased more than a year earlier.

The ring he would place on Angela’s finger the moment she said yes.

And Dirk knew without a doubt that moment was coming. He’d watched Angela’s apartment off and on for the past three months, varying his schedule and convincing himself more every day that he’d been wrong about the professor. The man wasn’t still seeing Angela on the side.

At the same time, Dirk had tripled the number of pills he was taking. He smiled. The pills were the best thing to happen to him since meeting Angela. His body was drawing looks from half the girls at the campus weight room.

There was no way she’d turn him down now.

He closed the lid on the ring box, set it back on the seat, and opened the glove compartment. Life would have been much simpler if Professor Jacobs had stayed away from his girl to begin with.

Dirk blinked and rubbed his fists over his jean-covered thighs. An image came, and then another and another. Angela with the professor at lunch. Angela and the professor walking hand in hand near her apartment. The two of them going into her apartment and turning off the lights.

It didn’t matter that the man wasn’t seeing Angela anymore. Dirk gripped his steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. If the professor were there in front of him, he’d still . . .

Everything was suddenly hazy red and blurred around the edges. Dirk tightened his grip on the wheel and held his breath. He hated Professor Jacobs for what he’d done. If it wasn’t for him, Angela would never have left him. If the professor hadn’t gone after his girl, life would be—

Dirk fired his fist into the dashboard and left a hole several inches deep.

He studied his fingers and wiped at three spots that were bleeding. Fear joined the dance of emotions on the floor of his heart.
What’s wrong with me?
The action had relieved some of the rage, but not all of it. He opened the glove box and fingered the revolver inside. As he did, a truth dawned on him.