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My heart jumps just a little when my phone rings, but as soon as I see the caller ID, my enthusiasm wanes. Mom can leave a voicemail message. We just talked last night. I’ve got at least until Christmas Eve before I have to interact with her again. Doubtless she’s already heard that I showed up at Orchard Grove today. She probably got phone calls from five or six different ladies from her women’s missionary league.
I can almost hear in my head the message she’s leaving. It was interesting to hear you went to church today. I’m glad to know you’ve decided not to keep your back turned against the Lord anymore. Or maybe you went to impress that friend of yours. How are you two doing, by the way? Did you already make plans to spend the holidays with him in Seattle?
With Chris totally gone, all I have to do is forgive him for things done in the past. With my mom, it’s different. Because she still does what she can to wedge her way into my life. Still offers up those thinly veiled judgements over every choice I’ve made.
She never understood a thing I did. Why I married Chris in the first place. Why I dropped out of college. Why I left him or why I went back.
But if you were to hear the way he apologized to me when I was at Reginald’s, you’d understand.
I already mentioned how Reginald kicked you out of his home, and good riddance to you. I should have known then that you’d find some way to get back at me.
You talked to Chris about what happened. Of course you did. Insinuated that Reginald was keeping me locked up in his house against my will, probably hinted at your suspicions of some sort of infidelity. As if Reginald and I could have ... Well, whatever. Small people and their small minds.
It was enough to get Chris worried. Not just jealous, but seriously worried for my safety and well-being. He waited for a time when Reginald was taking one of his granddaughters out on a shopping spree to buy new clothes for horse camp, and then he asked if he could stop by.
Some people would wonder why I told him yes, but they’re forgetting how close we’d been for so long. I’m not talking about the first two trimesters of the pregnancy or anything like that, or any of those times in our early marriage before his temper got the best of him. I’m talking about all the in-between times, the sweet times, the loving times. Did you think that even going through what we had was enough to make me forget?
And I missed him. Reginald was my closest friend in the world, but he wasn’t my husband. Reginald made me feel safe, but Chris made me feel adored. At least he did that afternoon when he came to visit me.
He wrote me a letter. Spent hours working on it, he told me later. You should have heard him when he read it out loud. Should have seen the tears in his eyes. Heard the choke in his voice.
I can’t picture life without you, my darling. You’re my heartbeat, my oxygen.
I kept up my guard at first, just to see exactly where he was going, but he ended with an apology. I can’t believe how blind and selfish I’ve been. This whole time, I’ve been thinking about this child as something other, but she’s part of you. And by God’s grace, you’ve found the love in your heart to call her your own, to cherish and adore her. I see now what an impossible predicament I put you in, and I’m going to let you know how sorry I am for it for as long as I’m alive. I had no right to ask you to choose me or your daughter. I had no right to tell you what decision you had to make.
I’m sorry. So terribly sorry. I see now that I can’t ask you to stop loving your baby, just like nobody could ask me to stop loving you. The past few weeks have been the worst of my entire life. I miss you so much. You weren’t wrong to walk away. In fact, I’m glad you did because now I see how senseless life would be without you.
I know I’ve hurt you. I’ve hurt you so deeply. But if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I want to ask you to come home. Both of you. You, my princess and bride, and the child that you love. The child that I’ve grown to love, too. The child that I’ve decided before God to raise as my own.
It was enough. I can’t tell you how much I’d missed him when I’d been staying at Reginald’s. I let Chris help me pack my suitcase that same afternoon.
By the time Reginald got back from squandering several thousand dollars on a spoiled granddaughter who didn’t even bother showing up for his funeral, I had moved back in with my husband.