43

I COULDN’T SPEAK. I couldn’t look at her. I just wanted to take it all back.

“Claire,” she said softly.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She reached across the table.

My own hand shaking, I placed mine in hers.

“Now look up at me,” she said, voice gentle.

How her smile could hold such humility and grace after what I’d said, I didn’t know.

“I wasn’t offended. Not only have I heard far worse, but sadly, far worse has crossed my own lips. All right?”

I couldn’t begin to imagine “far worse” coming from her, but I nodded.

“Also, I believe the apostle Paul when he wrote that God’s grace is all we need—that Jesus’ power works best in our weakness. So when God presents opportunities for me to tell how he worked his strength in my weakness, I want to do that, if you’re willing to listen.”

“You don’t have to, Bernice. Whatever you did is none of my business. I spoke grossly out of turn and—”

“You spoke from your heart, Claire. And you’re right. Adultery is brutal. For the betrayed and the betrayer. Most marriages never recover from it. My own marriage—”

The server approached with the check, then hesitated, apparently realizing we were deep in conversation. Bernice grabbed her wallet and handed him her credit card. “Please add two generous slices of chocolate silk pie to go.” As he hurried away, she cut me a look. “Chocolate therapy is real, girl!”

“Bernice, I’m the one who invited you. I should be—”

“This is my treat. You get the next one.”

“So there will be a next one?”

She laughed. “Honey, it’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me. Now let’s find somewhere else to talk.”

Hearing a car out front, I placed the slices of pie on the kitchen counter and hurried outside, my shin still sore. Bernice stood in the driveway staring up at the house, a yearning in her expression. A thrill ran through me, imagining her reaction to what I was about to show her.

“You should be living in this house, not me,” I said, descending the porch steps. “Your passion for history is written all over you.”

“You’re kind to invite me over, Claire. It’s been years since I’ve been out here. I . . .” She hesitated, then gently squeezed my arm. “I just want you to know I’m grateful.”

“Well, you’re welcome. And I’ll be happy to give you a tour. After pie.” I led her inside and into the kitchen.

“Oh. My. Gracious. This was not the kitchen the last time I was here.”

I chuckled as I set about making coffee. “I know. And I don’t even begin to do it justice. Nor will I.”

“What do you mean?”

I opened the fridge for the half-and-half. “Well, with the divorce, we’ll be selling the house.”

She frowned. “But I love the thought of you living here.”

I paused. “What a kind thing to say. But it’s too much house for one person. In fact, it’s too much for two! Stephen bought it sight unseen, before I could even weigh in on the decision.” I gave her the condensed version of the story, and she nodded thoughtfully. “Anyway,” I said, “Stephen has an apartment through work, and after we sell, I imagine I’ll get a small condo or town house or something. But first we’ll finish the renovation upstairs; then we’ll—”

“Renovation?”

I held out her coffee mug. “We have a lot to talk about, Ms. Georgia.”

A smile lit her eyes.

Over pie in the family parlor, conversation came easily. She told me more about her son and his wife and daughter, who clearly brought joy to her life. I talked about Maggie, her interests and schooling, how much I missed her, and also about her silence following the conversation in Savannah.

“Stephen and I also had a son,” I continued, watching a chickadee on a birdfeeder I’d hung from a low-hanging maple branch. “Bryan. He was two years younger than Maggie. But he died when he was three.”

“Oh, Claire, how tragic. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, her sympathy precious to me. But that chapter in my life wasn’t one I wanted to reread today. As though understanding, she said nothing else. Surely she had difficult chapters of her own. One including divorce, I guessed.

We simply stared out the window toward the woods behind the house. “I wish you could have known my Asa, Claire. You would have loved him. And he would’ve enjoyed you, too.” Surprising warmth filled her voice.

“Do you mean”—getting the feeling I’d made a misassumption, I couldn’t bring myself to ask outright, so I followed her lead—“he’s already passed?”

“Nine years ago now.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Some mornings I try to imagine he’s still lying there next to me, snoring in that irritating manner that always woke me in the middle of the night.” Her smile came and went. “But then I reach over, and that empty place seems to burrow down inside me. And it leaves me with a longing so sharp that I can feel the moorings tying me to this earth loosening, almost like he’s praying me home.”

I swallowed the knot at the base of my throat and tried not to think of what Stephen and I once had. Charlotte had also written about a boat being moored to the shore. Human nature never seemed to change.

“Asa and I married young and were married for eleven years when I cheated on him. It lasted for several months.” Bernice studied the coffee cup in her hands. “His name was William. We shopped at the same grocery store and would run into each other from time to time. At first, it was just a harmless flirtation.” Her brow furrowed. “Then I became enticed by his wit, his charisma and looks, and eventually, the forbiddenness of him—at a time when Asa and I had drifted apart from each other. I found William’s attention intoxicating.” She shook her head. “What I didn’t understand at the time was that relationships are never stagnant. They’re either moving forward or they’re regressing. And Asa’s and my marriage had definitely regressed. When he suspected the affair, I attempted to lie my way out of it. And thought I had. But he knew the truth. Felt it in his gut, he said. I lied to him so many times.”

She looked over at me, yet I felt not a hint of rebuke for what I’d so foolishly blurted in the restaurant.

“Then one morning, across the breakfast table, Asa gave me an ultimatum. Either end the affair or he would seek a divorce. He said he couldn’t allow us to continue living a life of lies. And I saw in his tears that there wouldn’t be an us if something didn’t change. I also saw how much I had hurt him.” She set her empty cup on the table, rose, and crossed to the window. “If Asa could find it in his heart to forgive me, then I wanted to work on our marriage. See if we could salvage things. So I decided to tell William it was over. But before I could do that”—she paused a long moment—“I discovered I was pregnant.”

“Douglas?” His name slipped out before I could stop it.

She looked back and nodded.

“When I told William I was with child, he told me he’d pay for the abortion, and then we could go on like before.” Her eyes narrowed. “No offer to take care of me or the baby, certainly no offer of marriage if I would leave Asa. Talk about suddenly seeing your life through a clearer lens.” Tears filled her eyes. “What dross I mistook for gold, when gold was already mine.”

The tick-tock of the antique mantel clock marked off the seconds.

“And Asa?” I whispered. “What did he say when you told him?”

She looked away. “It shames me to admit it, but after I left William that day, I drove to an abortion clinic. Not because I’d changed my mind about working on my marriage. But Asa taking me back was one thing. Him taking me back with another man’s child? That was another.” She sighed. “I sat in my car for an hour before I finally walked in. Once they started explaining how the procedure would work, a feeling came over me I’d felt only once before in my life—when I’d been alone with William for the very first time. Everything within me told me to run! I hadn’t listened that first time, but I did then. I got to my car as fast as I could, feeling like the devil himself was hounding my heels. Without a doubt, I know God protected me that day from adding yet another heinous sin to so many others.”

I nodded, my thoughts racing. How a marriage came back from that brink was beyond me.

“When I got home that afternoon,” she continued, slipping back into her chair, “Asa was waiting in the doorway as if he’d been watching for me. He took me in his arms and held me for the longest time. Told me he’d fought for me and our marriage on his knees, that he wished he’d started that years earlier. Oh, the forgiveness in that man’s eyes laid my heart wide open. Because”—her voice caught—“he didn’t know the half of it yet.”

“How on earth did you tell him?”

“How do you ever say anything so full of heartache? You just say it. And I was certain that would be it. We’d be done. He’d take back his forgiveness, which I wouldn’t have blamed him for doing, and I’d be raising this child on my own.”

“But?” I said softly.

“But God had other plans. It wasn’t easy, and it took time. Late at night, I’d find Asa in his study on his knees. Working things out with God, he called it. Meanwhile, I’d go upstairs and fall to my own knees, begging God to give my husband the strength to love me again, and to love a child that wasn’t his. And for me to love my husband the way he deserved to be loved from the very beginning.”

I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “And?”

She flashed a soul-deep smile. “Claire, God did more than I ever thought he would. Or should. Douglas could not be any more of Asa’s son. When you look at our son, you see his true father’s heart. But I don’t believe God would have performed that miracle if Asa hadn’t surrendered himself. No way a man—or woman—has that kind of compassion within them. But God does. And Asa Douglas Tollwood was a man who reflected God’s own heart.”

I managed to smile through a tangle of emotions, despite the discomfort inside me. “Asa sounds like a really special man.”

“He was. But if he were here, he’d tell you it’s the Lord who’s the special one.”

My smile felt forced this time. Maybe a change of topic would help. “How about more coffee?” I started to rise.

“Claire, I hope I haven’t changed your mind about our friendship, but I would completely understand it if I have.”

“Oh, no . . .”

“I know it’s a lot, as Douglas told the congregation when Asa and I told our story at church years ago.”

“You shared all this publicly?”

“More than once, whenever God nudged us to give him the glory. Oh, it never got easier. Even after being forgiven, seeing who you would be but for Jesus is always sobering.”

Slowly, suspicion rose to join my discomfort. Bernice said she told her story to give God the glory, but did she also have another motive for sharing it with me now—misguided though well-intentioned it might be? “Bernice, what you told me in no way changes my mind about our friendship. To quote someone we both know, ‘It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me.’ But . . . I’m wondering—”

“If I’m trying to convince you to stay in your marriage and work things out?”

“Exactly. And not at all to diminish what God did in your marriage, but you need to know, Stephen and I are simply beyond that. Maybe we’re not as mature as you and Asa were, or we didn’t—”

“Let me stop you right there, friend. I’m not telling you you should stay with Stephen. That’s a question only you and God can answer. I am encouraging you to make sure the Lord is right smack-dab in the middle of that decision when you finally make it. Because whatever you decide will shape not only the rest of your life, but also Stephen’s—and, just as importantly, Maggie’s.”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I’d already made the decision, so I simply nodded, marveling at how she could speak so candidly, even brutally, yet with such love. “Now,” I said, standing, “how about that tour?”

We took our dishes to the kitchen, where Bernice oohed and aahed over the appliances. “And look at that pool.” She peered out the back door. “How beautiful. You do know what they found a few years back when they were digging that hole, don’t you? They found—” She stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, Claire? There’s a mighty-fine-looking man in your backyard. And he’s coming this way.”