“ARE YOU EXCITED ABOUT TOMORROW?”
Marcus turned from the packed suitcase resting on his bed toward the doorway of his bedroom. Kat leaned against the door frame smiling, auburn bangs spilling over her brown eyes, an everpresent smile on her face.
He couldn’t imagine life without her. Sure he could. Single. Miserable. Maybe not living in a tent, but a home not much better.
“The needle on my anticipation meter is quite high. Reece has dangled a significant amount of questions that have my mind whirring as if a cyclotron is attached to it.”
“You’re forgetting there are little brains in the room.” She smiled.
“My apologies.” He knocked on the side of his head and grinned. “A cyclotron is used to accelerate charged particles.”
“So that’s what’s inside your skull? Particles?” Kat sashayed over to Marcus and grabbed the collar of his polo shirt. “God is going to get you on this little retreat.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” She pulled him down and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ve been praying about this, and I think changes are coming—good changes inside you. Big changes. Plus you’ll probably get a chance to continue your ongoing discussion with Reece about time travel being more than theoretically possible.”
“After hearing his presentation up at Snoqualmie Falls, I get the distinct impression he believes in more than time travel. I’ve never heard him talk that way.”
“Then you should have a wonderful time, my love.”
“You haven’t felt any hesitation about me participating in the retreat?”
“No.” Kat looked down, a frown passing across her face.
His stomach churned. He knew that look. “What?”
She pulled away and walked to their bedroom’s picture window and gazed out at the hemlock trees in their small Seattle backyard near the University of Washington.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Kat slid a finger along the windowsill, then moved back toward the door and waved her hand. “Nothing.”
“What aren’t you saying?”
Her tone went flat. “It’s not important.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Kat stepped partway through the door and stopped but didn’t turn back toward him. “Abbie’s soccer game. The championship has been rescheduled.”
“What?”
She turned. “They moved it up.”
Marcus pressed his fingers into his eyebrows. “To when?” He didn’t need to ask. The look in Kat’s eyes told him if he went to Well Spring, he would miss the game. This couldn’t be happening.
“Wednesday evening.”
He grabbed the bedpost and slid his grip down it as he slumped onto the bed. “Congratulations, Professor, you’ve just failed the test.”
Kat eased back into the room and walked over to him.
“But making the correct choice isn’t a complex problem.” He turned to Kat. “I’m not going to Colorado.”
“You’re right, it is an easy choice. Yes, you are going.”
“I’m calling Reece.” He fished his cell phone out of his pocket.
“Wait.” Kat sat next to him on the bed.
“For what purpose? I will not break my word. When I made that promise I meant it. There were too many years of—”
“You’ve been to every one of Abbie’s and Jayla’s games, every one of the girls’ events for the past year and a half. You’ve been fully present on vacations. Do you realize how many memories you’ve created? The kids know you’ve changed. They’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. Abbie will understand.”
How could she understand? How does a thirteen-year-old understand breaking a promise like the one he’d made?
“I will never miss one of your games again. Ever. For any reason. You have my word and I will not break it.”
“Have you told her yet?”
“No, but I will.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Marcus stood. “I’m not going.”
“You told Reece you would long before they changed the date. There’s no way you could have known the game would be moved. And like I said, God is in this. She’ll understand.”
“It’s not just a game but the championship. Those don’t come around like the second hand on a clock.”
“She’ll understand.”
“Why did they move it?” Marcus clenched his teeth.
“I don’t know.” Kat shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. It was totally out of the blue and they didn’t even give a good reason.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Kat reached over and touched his cell phone. “Because you would have called Reece and told him you weren’t coming.”
Marcus rubbed his face and groaned. “You weren’t going to tell me at all, were you?”
“Not a chance.” Kat folded her arms.
“Your feeling about my going contains that much strength?”
Kat’s eyes grew moist and she nodded. “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. I need to have a conversation with Abbie.” He snatched his suitcase off the bed and tossed it to the floor. “Thanks, Lord. I appreciate the support.”
“Abbie?” Marcus tapped on his daughter’s door with the tips of his fingers.
A muffled reply floated through the wood. “What?”
“Can I come in?”
“Whatever.”
Marcus turned the knob and stepped through the door. Music pulsed through the speakers on the corners of her desk. The only light in the room came from a tiny lamp to her left and the laptop Marcus bought for her six months back. His daughter pecked at the keyboard, her face awash in the light from the screen.
He reached for the light switch next to the door. “Do you mind if I bring a bit more illumination to the room?”
“Yes.”
He eased up beside her desk and crouched down. “Can we talk?”
“Uh-huh.” Abbie continued to glance back and forth between her screen and a piece of paper to her left.
“Will you look at me, Abbs?”
“Sure.” She spun in her chair, folded her hands in her lap, and looked at him, her bright gray eyes questioning.
“Mom has informed me that your game has been moved to a day when I’m scheduled to be out of—”
“It’s not a big deal.” She brushed back her long red hair and glanced at her laptop. “Don’t stay home because of me.”
“That’s precisely why I will remain home. The championship is not a game I’m going to miss.”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s not like you really come to my games anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” Marcus stood and squinted. “I’ve come to every game for the last eighteen months.”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
“No, I mean, yeah, I guess you have.” She glanced up at him. “You have. I know you’ve changed and everything, like, I mean you got totally different when your friend’s daughter died and all that, so it’s all good.”
But it wasn’t good. Kat said Abbie would understand his going on the trip, not that she wouldn’t care if he went. Yes, he’d changed, but what good had it done? Wasn’t it yesterday she begged him to come to her games? She wouldn’t be doing that ever again. His stomach tightened as he searched for the right words.
“I’ve gotta get this homework done, okay?” Abbie turned back to her laptop.
“Abbie? I—”
“Really, Dad. I have soooo much studying to do, it’s driving me nuts.”
“Yes. All right.” He walked to the door, then turned and stared at the back of her head. So clichéd to say it, but so true—in moments he’d be staring at the back of her head in a church as she stepped into another life with another man. What good would his regrets do him on that day? “I’m sorry, Abbie.”
She didn’t turn. “No worries, Dad. Really. You’re good.”
He shut her door, marched to his den, and slammed the door behind him. Beautiful shelves and beautiful books and his beautifully framed doctorate surrounded him, mocking him. Marcus strode to the far wall and yanked the framed certificate off the wall, flung it to the ground, and dug his heel into the back of it. The sound of crunching glass seemed to reverberate off the walls.
He had degrees, tenure, the respect of his peers, countless papers written, and three published books. But pages had been ripped out of his life he would never get the chance to read. And he was the one who’d torn them out and tossed them on the fire.
Should he go to Well Spring? Or stay and see the game? As Marcus drifted into a fitful sleep that night, he still wasn’t sure which path he would choose.