Redemption (8 page)

John’s prayers moved from thoughts to words as he shared the fullness of his concerns with the only One who could do something about them. “Father, it’s Kari. . . .”

He paused for a moment and wondered if Elizabeth was right, if indeed something had happened between Kari and Tim. What if the problem was serious? What if Tim was seeing someone else? A memory came to mind, something John had long since dismissed. He’d had lunch nearly a year ago with several professors, including an acquaintance in the journalism department. The man—a bitter scribe in his sixties—had asked about Tim.

“He’s your son-in-law, right, Baxter?” the man barked across the table.

“Yes. He’s married to my daughter Kari.”

“Well,” the man sneered, “tell him to remember his position. He’s too friendly with the female students. Makes the rest of us look bad. Unprofessional.”

John had dismissed the comment, assuming the man to be jealous or mistaken somehow.

But now . . .

John sighed and folded his hands in front of him. If Tim had been unfaithful, he was perhaps the one person who should have seen it coming. He remembered that he was trying to pray. “Sorry, Lord, I’m distracted. It’s just . . . you’ve put this fix-it thing in me that makes me want to understand a problem and work on it until it’s better. It’s why you had me be a doctor. . . .”

He hesitated and leaned forward, the weight of his concern for Kari more than he could straighten up under.

“But this, whatever has Kari so upset . . . I don’t know how I’m going to fix it, God. I don’t know how I’m even going to help.”

John closed his eyes and waited on the Lord, deliberately loosening his clenched fists, listening intently for the familiar still, small voice.

Almost immediately a verse came to mind . . . his life verse, really. Psalm 73:26. The one that had always come to him whenever he reached the end of himself, when his need for a Savior was greatest of all:
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

John repeated the words again and again, letting the meaning wash over him. “I understand.” He whispered the words as a tear made its way down the day’s growth of beard on his face. “I can’t do anything this time. You will be the strength—not just of my heart, but of Kari’s also.”

Though John was prepared to spend more time in prayer, he felt a sudden urgency to go home. He stood and glanced at his schedule. It was his light day, and his patients were scheduled only until two o’clock that afternoon. He picked up the phone and within minutes had the appointments covered. Then he left the office and headed for his car, begging God that whatever had happened between Kari and Tim, they could overcome it as a couple.

Kari was sure she had gained her composure by the time she walked in the door of the Baxter home at nine-thirty that morning. But the moment she felt her mother’s arms around her, the sobs that had gradually subsided rose again and spilled over. “Mom . . . you won’t . . . believe it. . . .” Deep, gut-wrenching convulsions pummeled her body, doubling her over and causing her to gasp for breath.
Help me, God, I’m losing control
.

“Kari—” Her mother’s voice was sharp, loud, as it had been when Kari was a small girl and had gotten in trouble for something. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

No, it’s not okay. I won’t get through it . . . not ever
. The sobs continued, and between breaths she caught sight of her mother’s pale face. “I’m . . . sorry. . . . I can’t . . . help it.”

Finally her mother led her gently by the arm into the front room, which was just off the foyer. As they sat on the old flowered sofa, Kari felt the slightest bit of calm come over her.
Help me, Lord
. . . .
I can’t breathe.

Don’t be afraid. . . . I am with you.

Kari exhaled, and the sense of panic eased some. In its place was a nausea that she knew could be resolved only one way. “Wait . . .” She darted through the house and barely made it to the bathroom in time.

Her stomach convulsed again and again as she lost the small amount of food she’d eaten that morning. When she was finished, she felt worse, not better, and more tears coursed down her face. She was sick of crying, but she couldn’t stop.

She rinsed out her mouth, clutched her sides, and made her way slowly back to the front room.

Both her parents were waiting for her. Her father must have had someone take over his patients for the day. Typical. He had left work early other times, too, for one family crisis or another. It was his way of letting them know they always came first with him.

Her father stood to meet her. “Kari.” She raised her eyes to his and saw that his face was lined with concern. He held his arms out toward her, and Kari went to him, needing his touch, yet racked with guilt for upsetting her parents.
I shouldn’t be here. It’s not their problem.

Her father’s silent reassurance was so strong that for the first time Kari had a sense she would survive. She allowed herself to be lost in her daddy’s arms, sobbing as if she might never stop. This time, though, the hysteria was gone. In its place was a sadness deeper than a canyon.

“It’s okay, honey.” Her mother reached up and took Kari’s hand. “You go ahead and cry. We’re here . . . whenever you’re ready to talk.”

Kari cried for another few minutes and then eased herself down beside her mother as her father took the closest chair. Kari studied the floral pattern on the cushion near her knee and could think of no easy way to begin. It had been two days since she took the call that changed her life, and she hadn’t told anyone yet, hadn’t spoken of Tim’s betrayal out loud. As if by keeping the truth inside, she could convince some part of her that it hadn’t happened.

Her cheeks grew hot, and she felt deeply embarrassed by what she was about to say. No matter that the crisis was Tim’s fault—she was the one who hadn’t been able to keep him happy. And she was the one who had staked her entire life on the belief that her husband’s faith was strong, his commitment to her deeply sincere.

She was a failure at the one thing she had prayed might never fail.

Kari lifted her head and saw her pain reflected in the eyes of her parents. The two of them waited, their faces expectant. “Tim and I talked last night.” She could find no easy way to say it. “He doesn’t want to be married anymore. He . . . he moved out.”

Her head dropped, and sorrow choked off her words. Instantly her father moved over to join them on the sofa. She felt her parents’ hands on her shoulders and savored the way they made her feel safe and protected. “It’s okay, honey.” Dad’s voice was low, the way it had been whenever he had comforted her as a child. “We’ll get through this.”

Kari silently prayed for strength, and after a minute she looked up. “He’s in love with another woman.”

“Oh no, baby.” Her mother’s hand fell from Kari’s shoulder, and she leaned in closer. “How long? I mean, what happened?”

A sigh slipped from between Kari’s lips. “He’s been seeing her about two months, I think.” Her voice sounded dead, as if she’d reached her limit on feeling hurt and devastated and had let an unfeeling robot carry on in her place. “She’s a student. It’s been going on since the beginning of the semester. Or maybe longer—I don’t know.”

“Dear God . . .” For a few moments her mother covered her face with her hands.

In all her life, Kari had never seen her father look so helpless. Her every memory of him was marked by sure smiles and his confident way of handling whatever life threw at them. But those images stood in stark contrast to the man sitting near her now, his face pale, his shoulders slightly stooped as if he’d been blindsided and hadn’t yet recovered.

“Kari, honey . . .” He made a slight shaking motion with his head, and she noticed that his eyes were glazed over. “I never would have thought . . .”

The nausea was back, but Kari held it at bay.
Get me through this, God, please
.

A verse came to mind, one that had comforted Kari before. It was the shortest verse in the Bible:
Jesus wept
. If he cried over Jerusalem, if he cried over the death of Lazarus, surely he was crying now over the death of her dreams, the death of her marriage.

Kari didn’t know what to say. Her soul ached the way her fingers used to when she was a little girl and played in the snow without gloves.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m shocked.” Her mother placed a hand on Kari’s knee. “Has he filed for divorce?”

“I told him I won’t give it to him.”

“So . . . you
want
to work it out?” Her father sat a bit straighter and raised his chin. Kari felt suddenly scrutinized, like one of his patients.

“Don’t look at me like that, Daddy. . . .”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to understand. It’s a lot to take in at once.”

Kari felt like a high school girl being questioned about a bad date. Her eyes grew wet again as she tried to explain. “I know it’s a lot, Dad.” She tossed her hands in the air. “I’m still trying to take it in myself.”

Her mother searched Kari’s eyes, and Kari could sense her astonishment as well. “You . . . you don’t want a divorce?”

“Mother!” Was that the way it was, then? After all these years of teaching their children the strength of commitment, now her parents would so quickly advocate divorce? She folded her arms against her stomach, refusing the sick feeling. “I thought you two of all people would understand why I can’t . . . why divorce isn’t an option for me.”

Her father cleared his throat, stood, and began pacing the small room. He stopped a few feet from Kari, and she could see conflict raging in his eyes. “Honey, you’re absolutely right. And we’ll do everything we can to support you in this.” He slid his hands into his pants pockets, and Kari saw the muscles in his jaw tense. “It’s just that I . . . I’d like to . . .”

His voice broke.

“I know.” Kari rose and hugged him, and her mother joined them, placing her arms around them both. Kari whispered as loudly as she could, given the weariness of her soul. “Your little girl’s been hurt, and you want to make it better, right?”

When her father didn’t answer, Kari stepped back to see his face. What she saw tore at her almost as much as knowing what her husband had done. Her father, the man who had held the family together when her sister Ashley walked out five years ago, the man who had stayed upbeat and stood by her mother when her hair was falling out from chemotherapy—that same man was standing with tears running down his face.

Kari held on to her parents and prayed they would all somehow survive the coming weeks. She had no idea how her siblings or her friends at Clear Creek Community Church would react. Everyone had always known her as the good girl, the one destined to do right and stay married forever.

She hated the idea that now those same people were bound to feel sorry for her. The thought made her want to hide under her parents’ bed like she used to do when she was little and a springtime thunderstorm would rock the house.

And there was something else, something she was afraid to admit even to herself. The truth was, the nausea and headaches and tired feeling she’d been fighting for the past few weeks might be more than a reaction to stress. It wasn’t a thought she even wanted to entertain in light of Tim’s admission. But that didn’t make it less possible. If something didn’t happen soon, she would have to take steps to find out.

Kari swallowed, and from the safety of the inner circle her parents’ arms created, she calculated the dates once more in her mind. There was simply no denying the facts. She’d missed two periods in a row, something that had happened only one other time in her life.

That had been in February three years ago.

The first time she was pregnant.

Chapter Six

Dirk Bennett slipped into the storeroom of the largest cafeteria on campus, the place where he’d worked since the beginning of last year. He tipped three pills from a bottle marked “Natural Power” and downed them with a swig of water. Then he peered through a grate out at the seating area and saw Professor Jacobs having lunch with Angela. Again.

Anyone could see what was happening. The professor was having an affair with her. Dirk had been following them for the past few weeks, and now he was convinced they were living together.

Dirk clenched his teeth and wound his fingers into rock-hard fists. Anger burned within him, and he imagined opening the storeroom door, walking up to their table, and knocking out the professor with a single blow.

The thing that upset Dirk most was her lies. She’d been lying to him for the past eight months.

“I’m busy, Dirk. . . .”

“My classes are more demanding than I thought. . . .”

“I need space. . . .”

“You’re too young to get so serious. . . .”

Her excuses felt like daggers through his heart. Dirk released a ragged sigh and thought back to the beginning. Back to the afternoon when he’d been pumping iron in the university weight room and Angela Manning first walked into his life. She wasn’t pretty like the sweet girls he’d dreamed about in high school. Rather, she was striking, with an untouchable air and a taut, chiseled body.