For the next two days, Brad spoke to her as little as he could. He stayed up late and fell asleep on the couch. She knew he was sending her a message, one that she deserved. It was all out now. Ultimately, she’d been the one to betray Brad, to keep a secret worse than the one he’d been keeping. And she was sure, beyond any doubt, that she’d never seen Brad as angry as when she’d confessed to him—his eyes blazing, his words filled with utter contempt. She felt empty. Lost. And she missed Layla.
She’d been relying on God for strength. In her heart, she knew He was listening, hearing her cries for help, but guilt and regret were suffocating her. The only thing she knew to do was to keep busy.
Despite Brad’s promise that they would replace the old wooden floors in the den, Darlene had rented a floor sander yesterday. It was hard work and torturous on her back. She’d hardly been able to crawl out of bed this morning to resume the task, but idle time was her enemy. She started running the sander right after the kids left for school and Brad left for work.
Every time she moved, her body ached. And she deserved it. But with each push forward, she could see the reward for her efforts. As the top layer of weathered wood turned to sandy residue throughout the den, there was a fresh surface underneath, worthy of restoration. She coughed, groaned from the exertion, and stopped to cry when she needed to.
Brad left the office early that afternoon. He missed his wife, but bitterness wrapped around him so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. As he pulled into Dave Schroeder’s driveway, he had every intention of punching the guy in the gut. But when Dave opened his front door, Brad held his breath. Cara was standing beside him, a gentle smile across her beautiful face.
“Can I talk to you?” Brad stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks as Dave’s eyes met his.
“Sure.” He hung his head, swung the door wide, then he and Cara stepped aside so Brad could go in. His heart was beating hard in his chest as he fought the images of Dave kissing his wife.
Dave wrapped an arm around Cara, the color draining from his face. “Let me go get Cara settled in her painting room, and I’ll be right back.”
Brad picked up a picture of Dave standing next to a beautiful woman outside of this house. He realized the woman must’ve been Dave’s wife. A chill ran down Brad’s spine at the thought of ever losing Darlene, but before he had time to discern whether or not he was feeling sympathy for Dave, the man returned. And so did the bitterness Brad felt.
“I know what happened with you and Darlene. You stay away from my wife.” Brad’s voice trembled as he spoke, and he still hadn’t ruled out a swift punch.
Dave rubbed his forehead and looked at the floor for a few moments. When he looked back up, he swallowed hard. “I’ve never kissed another man’s wife, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am that it happened with yours.” He paused, nervously rubbing his forehead again. “It goes against everything I believe in.”
Brad was glad Dave was nervous, but he was upset with himself for feeling a wave of sympathy for Dave. The man appeared sincerely sorry. Brad glanced at all the pictures of Dave and his wife on a hutch near the door. Again he thought about how hard it would be to live without Darlene, and he suddenly wanted to get home to her.
“I don’t want you in our life.” Brad’s voice was stronger, his eyes fixed on Dave’s. “It’s a small town, and we’ll run into each other, but I don’t want you around my family.”
Dave nodded, looking down again. “I understand.”
Brad knew Dave wasn’t fully to blame, but right now that logic was buried beneath Brad’s own need to fix things with Darlene. Blaming her wouldn’t achieve that result. He needed Dave to take the blame, which he seemed to be doing.
Brad turned and headed toward the door. He was almost there when he heard a whisper that made him pause.
For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.
He didn’t move for a moment as his own indiscretions rose to the front of his thoughts. Was what Darlene and Dave did worse than what Brad had done by lying to his wife, or at best, avoiding the truth? Who was he to decipher the importance of one sin over another? Sadness, bitterness, and shame fell over him. He needed to blame Dave and Darlene, but had he not looked in the mirror lately? He turned around and faced Dave.
“I forgive you.” He wasn’t ready to forgive Dave, nor did he want the man around his wife, but something in his heart cried for him to mean it. He said it again, “I forgive you,” and hurried out the door.
When Darlene’s back couldn’t take any more, she stowed the sander in the corner and admired her work. More than anything, she wanted Brad to be pleased, to be proud of her work on the floors.
She sat down on the couch, sweat dripping down her face. The front of her T-shirt was soaked as she laid her head back. Here it was—idle time, when her thoughts turned sour. But she was sure she couldn’t do one more thing around the house. In addition to sanding the floors, she’d scrubbed the bathrooms, washed all the linens, and even polished the dove pendant. She reached up and grasped the bird in her hand, praying that the Holy Spirit would fill her, give her strength.
Ten minutes later, Brad walked in, almost two hours early. He was carrying a slender box about three feet tall, but only four or five inches wide. He put it down in front of the couch. “This was on the front porch.”
Darlene wiped her face on her shirtsleeve. “I guess I didn’t hear UPS come.” She glanced at the sander, wondering if Brad would comment on the floors. When he didn’t, she asked, “What is it?”
“Something I bought for you months ago.”
She covered her face and started to cry. “Back when you still loved me.”
Brad sat down beside her on the couch and pulled her hands away. “I never stopped loving you, Darlene. But I need to know . . . Do you feel anything for Dave?” He gave her hands a slight jerk. “Do you, Dar? Because I don’t think I could take that.”
She shook her head. “No!” Tears poured down her face. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I could never love anyone else.” She put an arm across her stomach, her body trembling, her heart breaking. “I’m so sorry, Brad. I just—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Darlene . . .” He spoke softly, tenderly, as he locked eyes with her. After a few moments, he brushed back her hair on both sides and cupped her face. “Who do you love?”
As tears poured down her face, she said, “You, baby. Always and forever.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry for not being truthful with you.”
“I’m sorry—sorry for everything.” She buried her face into his chest, his love as necessary to her survival as food and water. “I’m so sad, so incredibly sad, about everything. I can’t breathe.”
He lifted her chin until she was facing him. He kissed her softly. “I know you are. And I’m going to stay with you today, tomorrow, and as long as it takes until you feel better.” He paused, gazed into her eyes. “I know you, Darlene. So listen to me.” He kissed her on the nose. “I know you love me. That’s why I don’t ask you all the time. I know I’m the only one for you. So please . . . forgive yourself. Because I forgive you, and I need you to forgive me for keeping a secret too.”
“I do.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Losing Layla is a big loss, and it’s going to take some time before you feel better.”
She started to cry. “Brad . . . I need you. More than ever.”
“I know, baby. I need you too.”
The following Saturday, Darlene, Brad, Chad, Grace, and Ansley found a nice spot in the far corner of the front yard. Darlene carried her gift from Brad, a fruit salad tree that didn’t look like anything more than just a stick. About three feet long, it resembled any number of broken branches in the yard that had fallen from their trees.
The instructions said to soak it in water for a few days, then once it was planted, it had to be watered every day. Darlene planned to nurture that tree into the most luscious fruit salad tree anyone had ever seen.
Brad was hauling a shovel, and Ansley carried the small plaque they’d had made so they could plant the tree in memory of Layla.
“So that tree is actually going to bloom all different kinds of fruit on one tree?” Chad had already asked the question several times. Darlene had pointed the tree out to Brad in a catalog months ago and was thrilled he’d remembered.
She assured her son one more time. “Yes.” Darlene smiled at Chad. “Ours is a stone fruit tree, and it’ll have peaches, plums, nectarines, and apricots.”
It didn’t take long for Brad to dig the hole and get the small tree packed in. Grace reached for the water hose nearby, then soaked the ground under and around the tree. Ansley placed the marker at the tree’s base. In loving memory of our friend, Layla Jager.
“Let’s all bow our heads,” Darlene said after a few moments. They formed a circle around the tree and held hands. “Lord, we miss Layla, and . . .” Darlene swallowed back the sob in her throat and took a deep breath to go on, but Brad squeezed her hand and spoke up.
“Why don’t we all say something about Layla, and something we’re thankful for. I’ll go first.” Brad paused. “Lord, we know Layla is in a wonderful place, Your kingdom. And she’s enjoying all the love that You have to offer all of us, whether in heaven or on earth.” He squeezed Darlene’s hand again. “Blessings for her and for us as we all heal. I’m thankful for my wonderful family.” Brad nodded to his left where Grace stood.
Grace cleared her throat. “I’m going to miss Layla, Lord, but I know that she is with You and Marissa.”
Darlene felt a tear roll down her cheek, but she smiled as she recalled the last word Layla had spoken on this earth.
“I’m—I’m . . .” Grace took a deep breath. “I’m thankful for my family. And also for Dr. Brooks.”
Darlene knew that after their breakthrough, Grace was truly on the mend, and much of the credit went to Dr. Brooks. They all looked at Ansley.
“I’m going to miss Layla too, Lord. And I’m thankful for my family, my chickens, and my friends at school.”
They all looked at Chad.
“Hi, God. I’m really gonna miss Layla too.” He bowed his head for a moment, and Darlene hoped he wouldn’t cry. But he raised his head, and a smile spread from ear to ear. “And I’m thankful that Skylar finally let me kiss her.”
“Chad!” Ansley sounded disgusted, and Grace picked up the water hose and shot Chad in the chest. Darlene was glad that Grace had accepted—even encouraged—the budding relationship between Chad and Skylar.
Next thing Darlene knew, they were all running around, laughing, spraying each other with the water hose, and darting around a tiny tree—a sprig of life no bigger than a twig. But with proper nourishment, the tree and its various fruits would be forever grounded, rooted together for life, for generations to come.
Just like a family.