Shades of Blue (36 page)

It wasn’t the type of love she felt for him either. He could see that much in her eyes. They shared a beautiful past and a terrible mistake, a lifetime of regret and a healing that could only have come from God. But he wasn’t in love with her. Not the way he was in love with Laura. With every mile that took him away from Emma, he became more and more consumed with hope and anticipation.

How much he must’ve hurt Laura with this decision. He could only imagine what she’d been thinking, or how she and her parents must’ve felt about him. Either way, he had absolutely needed to do this, to find Emma and finish that part of the story of his life. Like his dad had advised him. He smiled and realized his cheeks were dry. Good old Carl Cutler. The man’s wisdom had changed his life this time. Saved it, even.

Now he could only hope Laura still loved him the way he loved her.

He pulled his BlackBerry from the passenger seat and disconnected it from the charger. Her number was at the top of his favorites list, so he barely needed to glance at the phone to call her. The night was pitch dark around him, the traffic almost nonexistent heading north on Seventeen back to Wilmington. Not like it would be tomorrow night, when the holiday was over.

Her ring-back tone was new, something she must’ve added over the weekend. Brad listened intently, trying to make out the song.
I don’t wanna go through the motions … I don’t wanna go one more day … without Your all
-
consuming passion inside of me…
The lyrics were familiar and immediately he recognized the song. Matthew West’s recent hit — “The Motions.”

His heart skipped a beat and he let his hope double. Then just as quickly he reminded himself not to get too excited. A song like this could mean that she was looking to God to get her through the weekend … but it could mean that she needed His help to get her over an inevitable breakup.
Answer … please, Laura. Answer the phone
.

But after another few lines of the song, the call went to her voicemail. He didn’t want to explain himself or what happened in a message, but he had to give her at least a hint about what he was feeling. At the beep, he grabbed a hurried breath. “Hi … I’m on my way back to my dad’s house. I’m coming home tomorrow to tell you the only thing that matters.” He paused. “I love you, Laura. I want to marry you in four weeks. I hope … I can only hope you feel the same way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He clicked the End button and dropped his phone back on the seat. Maybe he should’ve called her more often while he was gone. But there were moments in the past weekend when he wasn’t in any position to talk to her. Besides, she hadn’t returned his call from Friday. Which meant what? He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead at the red taillights in the distance. Could their relationship really be over? Would he come home to find that she’d cancelled the wedding?

His heart beat faster than usual as he considered the possibility.
No, dear God … please help her understand.
He pictured Emma praying for Laura — something he hadn’t imagined might ever happen. Certainly if Emma could pray for Laura to forgive him, Laura could understand about Emma, how he’d needed to go back?

Or could she?

His mind hurdled from one side of the fence to the other until he pulled into his parents’ driveway. If Laura was going to call off the wedding, he needed to pray tonight for a way to change her mind. Going back to North Carolina had only made him more ready to marry her.

He felt worn out from the emotion of the weekend, and he was pretty sure his eyes were red from crying down at the beach, near the white wooden cross. But he wasn’t worried about seeing his parents. They wouldn’t ask questions unless he felt like talking. And he didn’t.

It was after nine o’clock as he walked inside. He found his mother folding clothes on the living room sofa, an old Roger Whitaker CD in the stereo. His dad sat across from her, sifting through a basketful of metal items. A trashcan on one side of his chair, a few lone items already inside. “Bradley.” He looked up, but only for a brief moment. Then he returned to his sorting. “Lots of targets on the beach this evening.”

“Your father thinks there’s a nugget of solid gold somewhere in all that junk.” His mom grinned at him and shrugged. “As long as he’s happy.”

“I found a World War II pin and an Australian coin. Vintage 1954.” His dad jabbed his finger in the air. “And I found a good use for that Kotton Kids blanket.” His dad pulled the soft blue cloth from someplace tucked in the chair beside him. “Makes a good polishing rag. I’ll say that much for it.”

Brad took in the scene and chuckled — for the first time all day. “I’m glad it’s good for something.” He moved to his mom’s side and helped her finish folding the load of laundry. “Want coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She looked straight at him. “I didn’t see you last night.”

“I wasn’t here long. I couldn’t sleep.”

“How’s Emma?” Her question was loaded, but that was okay.

Brad didn’t mind. He was slated to get married in four weeks, after all. His mother had the right to ask about Emma. He nodded. “She’s good. We needed this.”

“And,” his mother raised an eyebrow. “Will you see her again?”

This time his dad lowered the Kotton Kids blanket and looked his way too, waiting.

“No.” Brad leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “We both said what we needed to say. God met us in the middle of it all.”

His mom hesitated long enough to search his eyes, his expression. When she must’ve been satisfied with his answer, she smiled at him. “I always liked Emma.” She stood and picked up a stack of dishtowels. “But you’re marrying Laura. There’s a reason for that.”

If she’ll have me
, he wanted to say. Instead he waited until his mother was out of the room. Then he crossed the floor and stopped at the trashcan. The bin held a few dozen scrap pieces of metal — tinfoil balls and broken metal pens. A half-missing belt buckle and a number of other unworthy targets — as his dad called them. Brad put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “It was good advice, Dad. Finishing the chapter.”

“Yes.” His father stopped and briefly looked up at him. “You ready for the next one?”

“I am.” He wanted to add that he was praying Laura was ready too. But he didn’t want to alarm his parents. Not until there was an actual reason to be worried.

“The Jeep work out for you?” His father reached for a recipe box stationed near his chair. Organized by category inside were coupons and rebates, reminders of sweepstakes he was still waiting to hear about. “I can get another weekend if you need it. I read the fine print.”

“No, thanks.” Brad smiled at his dad’s thoughtfulness. “I won’t be going back to Holden Beach.”

His father smiled. “Good.” Then his smile faded into a more thoughtful look. “Even if we could get the Jeep for free.” He shrugged. “We’ll find another use for it one way or another.”

“That’s right. One way or another.”

Brad bid his parents good night and turned in. He wanted to sleep well tonight, but as he lay in the dark he remembered the campaign for Kotton Kids. He pictured the photos of the babies around his office, and little Amanda. Precious Amanda. Suddenly the winning slogan was obvious.
Kotton Kids — Because You Only Have One Chance to Love.

It was a line parents around the country would go crazy over. Not because it was clever. Because it was true. A sad certainty worked its way through Brad. This was what he’d been looking for, the perfect tagline to build his campaign around. One chance. Brad knew that better now, after spending the weekend with Emma. Through memories of his past with her and the stark reality of all they’d lost at a cold abortion clinic, the reality remained.

One chance to love.

As he fell asleep, he could only pray that somewhere that night Laura James was feeling the same way. He had done the two things God had asked of him, or at least he’d tried. He had known the good he ought to do, and he’d done it by making amends with God and Emma Landon. And he’d reconciled with her in a way that meant he was free to attempt the one thing he desperately wanted to do.

Return to his gift at the altar.

S
UNDAY NIGHT PASSED SLOWLY FOR
L
AURA
. Sometime after she was in bed, she heard her cell phone ring across the room. Whether it was Brad or not, she didn’t want to talk. Not until she could see him in person. Look him in the eyes and tell him exactly how she was feeling.

Her parents had given her plenty of space — asking no questions about her night out with Bella Joy or what she might be feeling about Brad. Even she hadn’t known until late Saturday night. She skipped church that day and spent much of her time in her room — poring over old photo albums and letters from Brad. Then she spent a solid two hours reading from her Bible, studying the Scripture in Luke,
chapter 6
. Reading it and rereading it and finally writing six pages in her journal over what she thought God was trying to tell her.

Everyone knew Brad was coming home Monday — at least he planned to come home then. And in the morning, when Laura listened to her messages she felt a rush of relief hit her. He still loved her. He was coming home. Now she needed to do her part, otherwise the wedding still might not happen.

Give me strength, God … I can’t be mad at him or ask fifty questions about Emma and his time with her. I have to do what You’ve told me to do.
She felt a sense of strength in response. God would help her get through this. Now it was simply a matter of doing it.

She had a key to Brad’s New York flat, because when Brad traveled for business, she watered his plants and fed his cat. As Monday wore on, Laura collected everything she would need and had one of her father’s cars take her into the city. Early that evening, she made it into Brad’s apartment — half an hour before he was due home. Working quickly and carefully she set up what she wanted to do and then she waited. Fifteen minutes became a half hour, and that became forty-five. She wasn’t sure if his plane was late or if the traffic was heavier than usual because of Memorial Day. Either way she would stay.

Finally, thirty minutes later, she heard the sound of a key in the door. Laura waited, watching.

Brad stepped inside and flipped on a light switch. He took an immediate step back, his eyes wide. Realizing someone was inside his apartment must’ve surprised him, because he stood stone still for several seconds. Gradually, his eyes must have adjusted to the candle-lit atmosphere in the next room. He set down his bag and moved closer. “Laura?”

“Come here, Brad.” She was sitting on the floor near his leather couch, waiting for him. “Please.”

His face was a mask of confusion, but still he came. He walked into his living room and found her at the foot of the sofa. A few seconds passed before he must’ve understood what he was seeing. She rose to her knees next to a bowl of warm sudsy water, a thick white towel, and a washcloth.

“What … baby, what are you doing?”

“Take off your shoes.” She heard the brokenness in her own tone. She pointed to a spot across the room. “Take them off and set them over there.”

Brad hesitated. “I don’t under —”

“Shhh.” She held her finger to her lips. “Please, Brad. This is something I have to do.”

“Laura …” Brad looked from the soapy water back to her and at the water again. But however confused he was, he took his shoes off and returned to her. “Baby, could you explain this? Just so I know what’s going on.”

“I will.” She stood and took his hand. The feel of his skin against hers was intoxicating. “Sit here, on the couch.”

He did as she asked, his eyes never leaving her face. Then she took the cuff of his jeans and rolled it up to the midway point on his calf. She did the same with the other leg, and slowly she helped him lift his feet into the tub of water.

Suddenly he must’ve truly understood what was happening, because he jerked back from her, his expression alarmed. “You’re … you can’t do this.” He started to pull his feet from the water, but she put her fingers lightly around his ankles.

“Let me … God gave me the idea.”

Brad’s face looked pale, as if the idea of Laura serving him in any capacity was not only crazy, but horrific. “I brought this trouble on us. You did nothing.” He put his hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. “I don’t understand.”

She steadied herself; then she took the white washcloth and slowly, with all the love in her heart, she began to wash his feet. Inch by inch she washed them, soothing her hands over the smooth skin at the top of his foot and the bones in his toes and the rougher patches along his heels. Washing his feet was only part of what God wanted from her. The rest wasn’t an action, but something she needed to say.

“When you told me about Emma … about your past with her, my immediate reaction was very wrong. Very selfish. I wanted you to be pure for me, because I saved myself for you. I didn’t think about how you were feeling, and I didn’t … I didn’t think about the baby you lost. How horrible that must’ve felt, and how sad that would be for you. So I felt none of your pain, Brad. I felt only mine.” She felt her hair sticking to the side of her face, but she pressed on, looking at him, running the cloth and her hands slowly over his wet feet. “But God used this weekend to teach me something about being a Christian.” Her voice was heavy with emotion, but she found the strength to go on. “Sitting back, head high, judging you.” She shook her head. “That’s not what God wanted from me. When you left here, you were far more the follower of Christ than I ever was.”

“Laura … no one could blame you for any of this.” His eyes were practically frantic for her to stop, to see this his way. “I was wrong. This was my fault, not — ”

“Brad, please.” She held up one soapy, wet hand and waited until he was listening again. Then she resumed washing his feet, running the washcloth over the sides and tops of them. “You knew you’d done wrong. Whatever happened this weekend, that’s why you left. So you could make things right with God and her.” She felt her eyes well up. “I’m washing your feet because true love forgives. When Jesus forgave those closest to him, he served them. He washed their feet. I couldn’t think of any other way to illustrate to you how deeply I forgive you, and how deeply I need you to forgive me. For my judgmental heart.”