38

“IN CLOSING, MY MOTHER WAS—”

Stephen’s voice wavered, and from the second row, I detected the slightest tremor in his hand as he rested it on the podium. Tears fell as quickly as I could wipe them away. Maggie, head bowed, fingered a wad of tissues in her lap.

“—one of the most caring and generous people I’ve ever known. I cannot remember a time in my life when she wasn’t there. To listen. To give. To encourage. And to love. Well, maybe except for when Bev and I nearly burned down the woods behind our house when we were kids.”

A shush of laughter rose from the guests, and Bev offered a weak smile, dabbing her cheeks.

Stephen stared briefly at what appeared to be his last index card, then added it to the thin stack and stuck them in his pocket. “There are times when life grabs a man by the collar and demands his attention. Standing beside the coffin of a parent is one of those times.”

He gazed at Maggie, then at me, and I felt a cool wind of caution.

“While no one has ever accused me of being well read,” he continued, “I read my share of Socrates and Plato back in law school. Let me tell you, those are days you never get back. But a saying I read years ago has stayed with me, and I’ve thought of it again and again in recent days—especially today as we lay Mom to rest. It’s from a distinguished twentieth-century philosopher named Edward Bear. You may know him better as Winnie the Pooh.”

Maggie looked up, and I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat, remembering all the times Stephen had read her that book at bedtime.

He cleared his throat. “‘If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart.’” His voice faltered. “‘I’ll stay there forever.’”

He returned to his seat beside me, and I grew painfully aware of the lack of physical touch between the three of us. Maggie sat stoic and unmoving, and I felt eyes on me. Fearing it would be obvious if I didn’t acknowledge Stephen at all, I patted his arm, hoping the gesture didn’t appear as cold and contrived as it felt.

Still in a fog when the service ended, I robotically followed the usher into the lobby and, alongside Stephen, greeted guests for the next hour, wishing this day were over—and dreading what was still to come.

The caterers had lunch waiting when we arrived at the house, every item on the menu once a favorite of Elaine’s. I’d thought that might make the occasion more celebratory, but it only added to my grief. Maggie sat across the table from Stephen and me, yet never looked at us.

Following the meal, I caught Bev staring at me from the kitchen, questions clearly written on her face. I rose to answer, but Stephen beat me to it. He and Bev disappeared onto the back patio, and as I watched their silhouettes through the thin sheers covering the windows, I felt as though I heard every painful word.

The silent ride back to the hotel seemed to take an eternity, but finally Maggie sank down onto the sofa in our room, rigidly looking everywhere but at us. I sat beside her, and Stephen sat facing us in the desk chair.

I’d had all day to think of how to start this conversation and yet still didn’t know where to begin. Maggie had learned the ugliest part of it in the worst way, and her silence demanded explanations.

Looking as though he’d aged ten years in a day, Stephen leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped tightly. Dark circles offset bloodshot eyes. “Maggie,” he began softly, “I know you have questions, but I want to make one thing clear right off the bat: I’m the one at fault, honey. Not your mom.”

My breath caught. Here I’d worried he would try to blame me, at least in part. And now this.

Maggie didn’t even look up.

“Sweetie,” I whispered. “You need to acknowledge your dad.”

Her gaze flitted toward him, then quickly away again. She bit her lip to keep from crying, the way she’d done since childhood.

Stephen looked at me, gratitude showing, along with dread at having to wade back through waters we both wished far behind us.

“It started back in Denver,” he said, “just a casual friendship with a woman at work. But then we started running into each other at a coffee shop or health club. I should never have allowed that friendship in the first place, Maggie. I was wrong.”

She squirmed, and while none of this was new to me, the pain cut fresh, reliving it through our daughter’s eyes.

“Before your mom and I moved from Denver, I ended things with the other woman. And to be clear, it was still just a friendship at that point. An inappropriate one, I’m not denying that, but nothing had happened yet. But then she followed me to Atlanta.”

Maggie’s head shot up, her expression a mixture of anger and disgust.

“She followed me to a country club one evening where I was having a meeting.”

Anticipating what he would say next, I felt a souring in my stomach.

“Bottom line, Maggie, I made a huge mistake that night, after making a series of very poor choices for months. I hurt your mom over and over again. I broke trust with her, with you, and I’m so sorry. I’d do anything to undo what I did, but I can’t, and I have to live with the consequences—including knowing how much I’ve hurt you. And how it’s causing you, my precious daughter, such disappointment in me.”

Shoulders trembling, Maggie buried her face in her hands, her soft sobs tearing deep inside me. I placed a hand on her back, at a loss for what else to do, to say.

Despite all the years I’d lived with Stephen, for all the times I had known what was in his head and what he was going to say, he had surprised me. I’d never seen him let his guard down like this, so broken, so raw, so undone. Not even after we’d lost Bryan. What did that say about him?

Stephen hadn’t yet broached our upcoming divorce, and though I couldn’t stand the thought of adding to Maggie’s pain, she had to be told. And given the weight of all that Stephen had borne today, I knew I needed to shoulder that load.

She slowly lifted her gaze and looked across at him. In his wince, in the tremble of his chin, I could tell he wanted to look away from her but wouldn’t let himself. I couldn’t deny his overwhelming love for her—and hers for him.

“You promise,” she whispered, voice weak, “that it’s over. That you’ll never do that again.”

“I give you my word, honey, that I’m going to be a better man and a better father. I’m seeing a counselor who’s helping me understand why I made the choices I made. All with the goal that I won’t make those same mistakes ever again. But words and promises won’t fix this; I know that. The proof will come when I live out the pledge I just made, that I do what I say I’ll do. That will be the real proof of my promise. Okay?”

She nodded, sucking in a breath. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, honey. So much. And I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“Dad, I—”

He held up a hand. “I’m not asking for that today. I know it will take time. And it won’t be easy.”

Though he was looking at her, I sensed he meant the words for me, too.

Maggie rose, and he stood and hugged her tight, not even trying to hide his tears.

After a minute, she returned to the sofa. “One more question. Is she still in Atlanta?”

I winced, sickened that our daughter had been put in a position where she even had to ask such a thing.

Stephen briefly bowed his head. “Yes, as far as I know.”

Her eyes widened. “She has to go back. She has to leave you alone!”

“I’ve asked her to, Maggie. And I’ve told her to stay away from me. But what she chooses to do isn’t up to me.”

“Get a restraining order! You know how to do that. Make her stay away, Dad, so you and Mom can work through things.”

Stephen lowered his gaze, and Maggie looked between us, finally settling on me.

“Mags,” I started softly, “I know this is going to be difficult for you to hear, but your father and I—”

“You have to forgive him.”

“Honey, I do forgive him, as much as I can right now. But this has put a strain on our marriage to the point that—”

“Are you going to a counselor, Mom?”

Taken aback, I hesitated. “Your dad and I did go to counseling. In Colorado. It helped for a little while, but—”

“In Colorado?”

I nodded.

Her features darkened. “I asked you a while back if everything was okay between you guys, and you said it was. So you were lying to me?”

Wishing Stephen would intervene, I could tell I was on my own. “I was trying to protect you, Maggie. We both were, while we tried to work things out.”

“So why can’t you go to a counselor now? You told me Paige and Tom went to counseling, and they’re still married.”

“Tom had a drinking problem, honey. That’s very different—”

“But Dad says he’s sorry! You can see that. Anybody could see that.”

“I do see it, and I’m grateful, but—”

“Dad, do you want a divorce?”

It was the first time the word had been mentioned among us, and I hated that our daughter had to be the one to speak it.

Stephen’s silence said everything.

She turned back, eyes pleading. “Just give him time, Mom, time to prove himself. To show you he’s changed. You’ve always told me that marriage takes two. It’s time for both of you to decide to make it work.”

Looking into my precious daughter’s face, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. She was her father’s daughter, after all. I wasn’t sure my voice would hold. “It’s not that simple, Maggie. Your father hurt me very deeply. And I simply don’t see a way where I can ever trust him the way a wife needs to trust her husband. I’ve tried, I promise you. But, honey, this doesn’t mean we won’t still be a family, that we won’t—”

“Oh please, Mom! You sound like some character in a movie leaving her kids behind so she can start another family!”

“Maggie! That would never happen. Your father and I love you dearly, and neither of us would ever leave you behind.”

“Please, Mom.” She gripped my hands. “Don’t do this. Please just give him another chance. Don’t tear our family apart!”

I reached to touch her face, but she backed away, shaking her head.

“Maggie.” Stephen placed his hands on her shoulders. “You and I have always shot straight with each other, right?”

She nodded, her jaw tight.

“Good marriages take work. And I didn’t give your mom the time and attention—and love—she deserved. I blew it. Big time. That’s not Mom’s fault, honey. It’s mine. And if you’re going to be angry with someone, be angry at me.”

“But she’s the one who won’t—”

“Maggie. That’s enough.” Stephen’s voice, though gentle, left no room for discussion.

Her face crumpled.

He turned to me. “I think it’s best if we all just try to get some sleep.”

Without prompting, Maggie got her things from the other room, and Stephen moved into that one, then wordlessly closed the adjoining door.

Maggie got ready for bed, crawled into Stephen’s side, and turned away from me.

My throat parched, I drank from the bathroom faucet, then left the water running, leaned over the counter, and wept. My thoughts kept returning to something Charlotte had written in her journal. What was the word she’d used? About waves threatening to pull her out to—

Adrift. That was it. If not for Nettie’s care and the Lord’s protection, she would’ve smashed onto rocks of grief and heartbreak. For the second time in my life, that’s how I felt. Without moorings or harbor. Or even hope. Because I honestly couldn’t see past this hotel room—past my daughter’s shattered heart and her anger at me.

I walked out to find her on her phone in the darkness, texting or scrolling, I couldn’t be sure. I hoped she wasn’t telling her new boyfriend what had happened. But I knew she was. She would tell him everything, as I probably would have at that age.

I crawled into the king-size bed, and when she finally put her phone away, I turned toward her. “I love you, honey. So very much.”

“I emailed Dad’s assistant to change my flight from Atlanta. I want to leave tomorrow.”

“But I thought you wanted to see the house. I’ve got your room all decorated, and I was going to show you—”

“I have school and tests, and . . . I just need to get back.”

I was grateful for the darkness so she couldn’t see my tears.

“Why have you been angry at him for so long?” she finally asked, anger in her own voice.

“Honey, he had an affair, and—”

“No, I’m talking about long before what he did, Mom. Off and on for years, you’ve been mad at him. I’ve seen it.”

I closed my eyes tight. “Maggie, as Dad said earlier, marriages take work. And he and I simply haven’t been on the same wavelength for a while now. But we both still care very much for—”

“It’s about Bryan, isn’t it? You blame Dad for what happened. I see it every year around the first of July, and I know Dad does too, because it’s written on his face.”

My heart ricocheted off my ribs. “Maggie, I—”

“How could you even think he was responsible for that? Even Granby said it wasn’t his fault. That it was nobody’s fault. That horrible things like that just happen.”

She’d spoken to Elaine about this? I buried my face in the pillow. Whether she heard me crying, I didn’t know. But I awakened to hear her sometime later.

And the only words my heart could form: Lord of Heaven’s Armies, please help.