A heavy weight appeared on his legs as Zack lay in his bed early Sunday morning. He didn't bother opening his eyes, playing the well-known game Moses, an eighty-pound Lab, liked to play to start their day.
Seconds later, Moses inched his way up Zack's legs to his chest and resettled like a giant stuffed animal. Still, Zack didn't move. Moses released a sound somewhere between a complaint and a sigh, his large paws gently kneading Zack's shoulders.
Given the cue, Zack finally lifted his hands and began to pet the large dog, scratching all the places Moses liked best. "What am I going to do with you? Lazy dog. Can't even start your morning without a massage."
Moses snuffled out another sigh before doing his daily doggy roll so that Zack scratched his belly, a yawn stretching Moses' jaws wide and very close to Zack's ear since the dog was on top of him. "Sorry about the late nights and no sleep. You can catch up while I'm gone."
Moses yawned again, rolling onto the bed beside of Zack, sprawling out in the middle of the mattress and getting comfortable. "Kicking me out of my own bed. Some best friend you are," Zack grumbled, performing his own roll toward the side of the bed.
His gaze landed on a photography book across the room and he seconds later he found himself flipping through the pages until the slip of stiff card stock appeared, the four smiling photos of him and Becca taken inside of a photo booth mocking him.
He stared at the delicate lines of her face, the bow of her mouth and fullness of her lower lip. The way she stared at him in the third photo, smiling at him instead of the camera.
Zack shoved the strip back into the spine of the book and shut it with a snap, earning a grunt from Moses because of the disturbance.
The coffee pot called to him and Zack made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of the strong, black brew before sitting down at the table and opening his Bible to read the scripture this morning's class would cover.
But after a few minutes he pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved the book away. Ever since last night he hadn't been able to find the words. Couldn't focus on the scripture in front of him. Couldn't do anything but think of Becca and how she'd betrayed him. Left him.
Like the selfish, entitled, rich--
The old coffee mug popped, scalding coffee flowing onto his fingers, wrist and hand. Zack gasped at the pain and shoved his chair back from the table, slinging off the burning liquid as well as he could while rushing to the sink and faucet.
The cold water cooled the sting but as soon as he removed his hand from beneath the spray, the pain returned, throbbing with every beat of his love-battered heart.
Two and a half hours later, Zack sat in the church pew between his half-sisters Emma and Laney, every cell in his body aware of Becca and her son sitting one aisle over toward the front beside of her family.
Throughout the sermon his gaze strayed toward the left and lingered on what he could see of her pretty profile. That was the kicker. Despite all that she'd done, he still found himself drawn to her. Not just physically, but on a deeper level. He'd known the exact moment she'd entered the church because, after ten long years, they were still connected in some intrinsic way.
Emma elbowed him, jerking him out of his thoughts and back to the moment at hand. He followed everyone else and stood, bowed his head when the minister asked an elder to lead the closing prayer.
Zack closed his eyes, tried to concentrate on the man's words but his mind wouldn't stop whirling, the anger and disappointment he felt at being so wrong about Rebecca eating away at him.
Church dismissed and since his exit was blocked by his half-sisters and their families, he turned his back on Becca and asked Emma's husband about his latest guard dog-in-training while the mothers gathered their brood of offspring and chatted with friends.
After a bit, his awareness of Becca dimmed and he knew she'd left the building.
Zack said his goodbyes to his sisters, escaping the pew once everyone got moving toward the exit. "Nice sermon today, Preacher."
The minister's hand tightened on Zack's.
"Thank you. Zack? I was wondering if you had some time? Just a few moments after everyone leaves."
The minister had been wanting a group photo of the entire congregation and with the holidays coming up, Zack figured the man wanted to discuss the details. "Sure. I'll wait inside."
Zack retraced his steps down the aisle of the old church, admiring the the vaulted, beamed ceilings and stained glass window in the peak as he always did. Thanks to Emma and Laney and the men in their lives, Zack had been asked, pressed, begged and bargained into attending church there. And joining them had been the best decision he'd ever made.
"Thanks for waiting," Minister Jones said as he joined Zack.
"No problem. What can I help you with?"
"Actually, I was wondering the same thing," the man stated, looking at Zack with a knowing expression.
"Pardon?"
"For the last nine years or so, you've been here nearly every Sunday service. It took a while, but you eventually began to sing and pray and interact with the others. But today I noticed your attention was elsewhere. Something wrong?"
The man had always been astute. Zack figured such a gift either came with the job or quickly learned. "I'm fine."
"I see. Well, may I remind you that you're in a church--on Sunday, no less."
Duly scolded, Zack sighed. "Fine. You caught me. I've got something weighing on me."
"I'm here to help if you'd like to talk about it."
Zack stared at the stained glass cross high in the church. "How do you forgive the unforgivable?" he finally murmured. "I know I'm supposed to, but I'm not sure it's something I'm capable of."
"We're all capable of forgiveness. But that doesn't make it easy."
"You're a pretty easy-going guy," Zack said. "You probably don't think twice about it."
Zack watched as the minister shifted on the pew and--for maybe the first time--saw the minister as a man.
"You might think so, but you would be wrong," the man said. "I have my own difficulties with sin. I love serving my Lord, but I would be lying if I said I didn't admire some of the cars parked in the lot outside."
"Sorry, Padre, but coveting a car doesn't rank high as a sin in my book."
"So, tell me, then, what is unforgivable in your 'book'?"
Caught in a trap of his own making, Zack stood, exited the pew and moved several paces closer to the stained glass window. "I guess the word would be... betrayal. And before you say it, I know Jesus was betrayed in the worst ways possible and He still managed to forgive, but it's pretty obvious none of us are Him. So how do we get to that place? How do we let it go when the pain will never go away?"
"It might help to know more of the circumstances involved. Can you give me more information to go on?"
He could--but he doubted Becca would appreciate it if he did. "No."
"Well, in that case, I suppose I would try to put myself in the other person's shoes and pray for the insight needed to see things from their perspective. Changing our point of view of the situation can sometimes help us see things in a new light."
He'd tried that. The night Becca had told him about the baby and nearly every waking moment since, he'd tried to understand things from her angle. But try as he might, it never worked. Even though the baby had died and would have regardless of him being aware of its existence, that precious time of knowing, that experience, had been taken from him. Becca had taken it from him.
And that theft was something he could never forget--or forgive.
Sunday dinners at her parents' house were always interesting. Thankfully Kaity and David were there to lighten the tension filling the formal dining room.
Elda, the housekeeper and cook and former nanny, had prepared Kaity and Becca's favorites to celebrate having both of "her girls" under the same roof once again. The table was loaded down with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, cole slaw, macaroni salad and more. Dessert awaited them on the sideboard, the antique piece of furniture lined with no less than three different flavors of fresh-baked pies.
"Eat, eat, Miss Becca," Elda urged, refilling Becca's water glass. "You're too skinny. Men like women with a little meat on their bones."
"Well, if I eat anymore, Elda, I won't be able to fit into my wedding gown,” Kaity said with a smile, pushing her plate away.
Elda tsked but smiled, obviously taking Kaity's words as a compliment.
"Eli, how about we do some fishing at the pond once we've had our pie?" George asked.
Becca looked from her father to Eli and noted that Eli either didn't hear the question or purposefully ignored it.
"Eli, would you like to go fishing?" Becca pressed.
Eli tucked his chin to his chest but didn't respond otherwise.
Becca glanced at her father and noted the frown lines around his mouth had deepened. "Maybe instead of fishing you guys could check out the old playhouse in the backyard?"
"That's a good idea," her father said. "We will," he continued, not bothering to form it as a question. "Eat up, son."
Eli wouldn't lift his head and Becca worried her lower lip between her teeth, what little appetite she'd had disappearing and rapidly making her regret what she'd eaten so far.
The conversation changed over to wedding details and plans, but Becca noted her father's gaze remained on Eli, worry etched on his craggy features. Her father was a brusque man. His occupation as an attorney and judge had earned him a formidable reputation. Her father wasn't afraid to tackle any challenge and often did, like a bull charging the red cape at full speed.
But how was she going to explain Eli's diagnosis to a man who wouldn't understand what it's like to be afraid? Too afraid to speak?
Once dessert was completed, they left the table and headed outside to the back patio while David and her father walked with Eli to the playhouse in the thick limbs of the Japanese Elm. The leaves had fallen weeks ago and the air had a distinct chill and dampness to it. She'd changed Eli out of his church clothes and into play clothes, adding a sweatshirt for warmth.
Despite having the wedding binder open on her lap, Becca had a hard time concentrating on the conversation about the reception food choices because she was so fixated on her father and David attempting to interact with Eli.
"Hey. What is up with you?" Kaity asked.
Becca jerked to awareness and realized her mother had disappeared from the table.
"She went to get her glasses. Why she doesn't just wear them is beyond me. It would drive me crazy having to go get them all the time. Now," Kaity's voice lowered, "what is going on with Eli?"
"What do you mean?" Becca asked, buying time as her mind scrambled to form the words needed to explain his diagnosis.
"Seriously, Bex? Okay, fine. I'll play along. Does Eli ever speak?"
The moment of truth had come and even though she knew it would happen eventually, she still wasn't prepared. "Not very often," she revealed softly. Continuing required a deep breath and hard swallow. "He's been diagnosed as having Selective Mutism. He can talk. He just doesn't."
"Oh, Bex. Why haven't you said anything? Has this always been going on or is this new? Please don't tell me this is because of your divorce."
"You're getting a divorce?"
Kaity's eyes widened and she shook her head in apology for not having noticed their mother's return.
"I have got to stop talking," Kaity murmured. "I'm so sorry, Bex."
Becca squeezed her sister's hand and shrugged. "Had to happen sometime. It's fine."
"Rebecca, explain. And, Kaity, you will answer for why you've been keeping something like this from me."
"Mama, please, don't make it worse," Kaity said as she scooted her chair away from the patio table. "Besides, it wasn't my news to tell."
The metal legs scraping against the concrete grated on Becca's veins. She couldn't face her mother so instead she focused on Eli. David had plucked Eli up and helped her son settle onto a board swing attached to a branch beneath the playhouse. For the first time in a long time, Eli smiled when David put the swing in motion.
"Rebecca?"
Her mother's tone demanded answers but Becca also heard concern in the depths. But was it concern for her? Or concern that Becca's marital failure might tarnish the Judge and Mrs. Waites' image? "I'd rather not have to repeat this conversation," she murmured. "Can it wait until I can talk to you and Daddy together, please?"
"How about I go take over for Dad? David and I can keep Eli occupied for a while," Kaity said, leaving the table before Becca could even respond.
"Rebecca, are you getting a divorce?" her mother queried.
Becca stared down at her clasped fingers and said a quick prayer for God to give her the words to explain things to her parents. They loved her. They were wonderful parents who would truly do anything for their children. But sometimes they just didn't get it. "Wait for Dad."
Wynonna walked to the edge of the patio and waited for George to rejoin them. Becca looked up just as her dad spotted the expression on her mother's face and realized something was very wrong.
"What's going on?" George asked. "Kaity said you needed me."
"Daddy—sit down. Please," Becca added, remembering her manners and the fact one didn't go about ordering one's father around.
George seated himself in the chair Kaity had vacated before lacing his fingers together over his nearly flat stomach. The judge spent an hour every single morning in the gym and it showed.
"What's going on, Rebecca? Is something wrong?"
"She's getting a divorce," her mother said, the words sounding teary and strained.
Her father's thick eyebrows lowered as he narrowed his gaze on her and Becca resisted the urge to squirm.
"Is this true?" George asked.
"No," Becca said, knowing her father preferred facts. "It's not."
"Rebecca, I distinctly heard your sister say--"
"I'm not getting a divorce," she interjected, rudely interrupting her mother and earning another glare for it, "because... I've already gotten one. It's been final for six months."
Silence descended. Even poor Elda who had been about to clear the dishes stood frozen just inside the patio door, her hands clasped in front of her.
"Six months," her father repeated.
"Rebecca." Wynonna stared at her in horror. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I couldn't. The time never seemed right and-- and I wasn't sure what to say."
"What happened?" George demanded. "Did you try counseling?"
Becca managed a smile at Elda and motioned for the older woman to join them at the table. Elda had been around before Becca or Kaity had been born and was more family than employee. She needed to hear this too. "Apparently Elliot was seeing another woman while dating me. Someone his family didn't approve of and who didn't--couldn't--help his career or image in any way. So, he married me, but never broke things off with her."
"Oh, my poor dear," Elda said, tears streaming down her lined cheeks.
"It gets better," she murmured, her tone more than a little bitter despite her efforts to remain unmoved. "When I got pregnant with Eli, she was also pregnant. She had a boy as well."
Her father abruptly stood, the chair scooting backward so quickly it nearly tipped over.
"Long story short, when it became clear that Eli has a problem, Elliot decided he wanted out. He wanted to raise his 'normal' son and be with the woman he really loved instead of me and Eli."
"What's wrong with my grandson?"
The hoarseness in her father's voice relayed his worry and upset, and that was the only reason Becca was able to keep her emotions in check. "Nothing is physically wrong with him." She held up her hand, ending her father's attempt to interrupt before it gathered steam. "Nothing is wrong, but he does have Selective Mutism."
Becca swallowed hard, aware of Kaity's concerned glances from across the yard because they bored a hole into her back. Her parents and Elda looked shellshocked and as devastated as she'd felt when she'd first heard the diagnosis. "Eli doesn't talk to anyone but me--and that's only sometimes."
"What about his father?" Wynonna asked. "Surely he talked to Elliot?"
"No. Elliot never had much to do with Eli. Eli was usually asleep when his father left for work and in bed when Elliot got home. He golfed on weekends or spent time with his other family. Apparently seeing the difference between Eli and his other son cemented the fact that Eli had a problem and Elliot couldn't handle it."
Her father moved to stand at the stone pillars lining the edge of the patio, leaning against the wrought iron railing overlooking the lawn. Elda wiped her eyes with the edge of her old-fashioned apron, and Wynonna leaned sideways in her chair to comfort the older woman.
Becca split her attention between the three of them, noting her father's bent head and sagging shoulders, how her mother focused on comforting Elda. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't tell you any of this because I had hoped things would get better. Maybe not with the marriage, but with Eli."
"But why doesn't he talk?" Wynonna asked.
Becca held her mother's gaze. "I've been asking myself that for the last four years, Mama. But I still don't know the answer." At least not any she was willing to share.