Chapter 21

Emma leaned against the window by the front door, pulling back the curtain just an inch. Joe was heading out of town this week, and Andrew was due back home any minute. Her heart rose when Joe’s truck pulled up, only to sink when he didn’t bother getting out. It hurt so much to see her son carrying his clothes in a duffel bag, as if this were a sleepover.

She put on a cheerful smile before she opened the door for Andrew. 

“Welcome back! I made your favorite, yellow rice and chicken.”

He walked past her to the stairs. “Maybe I’ll have some later,” he called over his shoulder. “We just had burgers.”

Emma bit her lip and drew in a quavering breath. “Andrew?” He paused at the head of the stairs. “I’ve missed you.”

He shrugged. “Me too.”

“Well, I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you.”

“I know, Mom. Just give me a few minutes. I’ve been away from my computer all week, and Sam and Cody are playing a match online tonight. They’re waiting for me.”

He disappeared from sight. The sound of his closing door reminded Emma of how completely he had shut her out of his life. She had to admit, though, that this locking himself away in his room was nothing new. Why had it never bothered her before?

She wanted to go after him, make him sit down to dinner, but it was his first night back, and she feared ruining their chances for a peaceful week together.

She set the casserole back in the oven and sank into a chair at the kitchen table. Her eyes fell on Rachel’s journal, which she’d been reading at breakfast. She decided to pick up where she’d left off.

Saturday 4/3/99 AMI’m engaged! But this is so much better than the first time. Last night Evan took me into South Bend, to the old Studebaker mansion. Even though I’d always wanted to tour that mansion, I was too nervous to really appreciate the opulence or the history.

If I was nervous, Evan was downright terrified. I noticed his hands trembling when he dipped his bread in the artichoke dip, and then he just picked at his food.

So I knew he was up to something, but I was still utterly shocked when he went down on one knee right there in front of the dinner crowd.

“I was going to wait until after dinner, maybe take you somewhere romantic,” he confessed later, “but I knew I couldn’t eat another bite until I said what I needed to say.”

He told me he’d always loved me, but now he realized he hadn’t treated me with the respect I deserved. “If you’ll be my wife, I promise to do everything I can to honor you and make you feel cherished.”

I think I started to cry at that point, but I’m sure I was glowing when he held out a blue velvet box.

I fumbled with the lid and then almost dropped the ring, a gorgeous white gold band completely encircled with little emerald-cut diamonds.

“Allow me,” he said, taking the ring and sliding it on my finger. Holding my eyes, he said, “Rachel Lynn Marsh, will you marry me… again?”

I laughed through my tears. “Yes, Evan. Yes! I thought you’d never ask.” And I threw my arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over.

The people at the nearest tables clapped and cheered, and Evan blushed to the roots of his hair. He slid back into his chair and ducked his head.

Neither of us ate much after that, which was a shame because that steak was tender enough to melt in your mouth. But we had a wedding to plan! Evan said he’d found a package deal for a long weekend in Punta Cana, Mexico—in just two weeks. He found a minister online so we can renew our vows. And he even arranged with the resort for a little cake and some flowers!

Of course I was moved by the romance, but I have to admit that I did wonder how we’d pay for all this—and the ring. I actually opened my mouth to ask, but closed it again. No way I wanted to spoil the mood.

He must have read my mind, though. Shortly after that, he said I didn’t need to worry about going into debt… because he’d sold his motorcycle!

“Evan, you shouldn’t have,” I protested. “It took you so many years to restore it.”

“It was just a motorcycle,” he said. “You’re worth much more to me.”

I actually sobbed then, to the waiter’s chagrin.

So now I know what took him so long. He was making all these arrangements, making everything perfect for me since our first wedding wasn’t what I’d always imagined. I can’t believe I ever wondered if this guy was right for me!

Andrew found Emma at the kitchen table, her head buried in her arms. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I’m okay, hon. I was just reading one of Aunt Rachel’s journals, and I… miss her.” She drew in a couple of breaths. “And I miss your dad too.”

“Oh.” He shifted from one foot to the other, staring at the wall over her head. “Hey, is there any of that yellow rice and chicken left?”

She chuckled, amazed at how that one little question raised her spirits. “Yep, I’ll get it out of the oven. I’m starving!”

***

Home early on Friday afternoon, Emma was hoping to plant some daffodils to replace the marigolds Trixie had eaten. But she’d no sooner kicked off her shoes than the phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Bowman Middle School on the caller ID. Oh, God! Is something wrong with Andrew?

She held her breath as she picked up the receiver.

“Mrs. Wilborne?”

Emma felt the sweat pooling under her arms, but her mouth was bone dry. “Yes?”

“This is Ms. Appleton, Andrew’s English teacher. I wanted to let you know…” Andrew’s young teacher sounded as nervous as Emma felt. “It’s just that I’ve been concerned about him. Is everything okay at home?”

Emma bristled. Why was every kid’s problem always the parent’s fault? “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“He seems withdrawn, almost sullen. He refuses to participate in class. And he hasn’t turned in his last two assignments.”

Emma gulped. “I’ll… talk to him, ground him. I’ll make sure he gets that work turned in.”

“I’m not trying to get him in trouble, Mrs. Wilborne. I’m more concerned about his attitude than his work. He’s never acted like this before. I talked to the rest of the team today, and it turns out he’s having trouble in math and science, too.”

Emma imagined all Andrew’s teachers sitting in the lounge, discussing his unstable home life. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said stiffly. “Have a good weekend.”

Blinking back tears, she stared at the kitchen counter and grabbed a fistful of hair in each hand. As soon as her breathing had returned to normal, she dialed Joe’s cell phone. No answer. She slammed down the phone.

What should she do? Lay down the law? Ground him from everything? Or would that push him away even more? Maybe she should try to make him feel more loved—but how?

What she really needed to do was convince Joe to come home, but that wasn’t an option. “Oh, God,” She whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

She sat stock-still for just a moment, and then threw her purse onto the counter and started tossing everything out. At the bottom, under some gum wrappers and wadded tissues, was the napkin on which Aubrey had scribbled her cell number.

With trembling fingers, she placed her call. “Aubrey? Did I catch you at a good time?”

“I’m at work, but I can take a quick break. What’s up?”

“What time does your church start on Sunday?”

“Ten o’clock.” Emma could tell Aubrey was trying to sound casual, and it made her smile. “Would you like me to pick you up?”

“That would be great. Can I bring Andrew?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to meet him.”

***

“I want to go back to Dad’s,” Andrew snapped, skewering Emma with his eyes.

As soon as he’d come in from the bus, she’d grounded him from TV and video games. She could certainly see why Ms. Appleton had called him sullen.

“Your dad’s in Alabama, remember?”

Andrew stormed up the stairs and slammed his door.

It took her 20 minutes to figure out that he was watching TV in his room. She tried phoning Joe but got his voicemail again.

She knocked firmly on Andrew’s door and opened it without waiting for an answer. “I said no TV!” she said, feeling the blood rush to her face.

“I can watch TV if I want,” he muttered, though he was actually curled up on his bed, facing the wall.

“No, you can’t.” She knelt next to the television and fumbled with the cables.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, just continued unscrewing the connections to his satellite box and game console. She clutched both devices to her chest. “You can have these back when you’re done with your grounding.”

“When will that be?”

She had to suppress her triumphant smile over his plaintive whining.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said calmly. “That depends on your attitude.

But she wasn’t feeling so triumphant when she sat down to another dinner alone, with only Rachel’s diary to keep her company.

Thursday 4/8/99 PMI was wrong about the reason for the delay in Evan’s proposal. The preparations might have been part of it, but mainly Evan needed some time alone… with God!!

For months, he had been coming to church with me periodically, but just as I’d suspected, he was only humoring me. He didn’t get it, didn’t understand that my faith was more than just an hour and a half on Sundays.

But now he’s a believer! When I asked him what made the difference, he said it was my reaction to the porn thing. “You were furious, livid,” he said. “I really thought that was the end of us.”

“Me too,” I interjected.

“I knew you weren’t happy to begin with, and I had given you the perfect out. But you didn’t take it. You forgave me because—how did you say it?”

“I said, ‘How can I withhold forgiveness from you when Jesus has forgiven all of my sins?’” (At the time, I hadn’t even thought he was listening.)

“That’s when I knew this Christianity thing was real. I saw how devastated you still were, yet I could also see your peace. I wanted that for myself.”

I cried when he said that, and confessed how many hours of prayer it took to find that peace.

When I asked why he hadn’t told me all of this at the time, he said he’d needed some time to think it all through without feeling pressured. He said he tried reading the Bible on his own, but had a hard time understanding it, so he went to Pastor Daniels for advice. And that’s how he found the men’s Bible study. He’s been going every Wednesday at 6:30 A.M.!

I think I’m even more excited about this than about our upcoming wedding. How could I have known God would use Evan’s betrayal and our separation to bring about something I’d been afraid to dream of?

As Emma scraped most of her spaghetti into the sink and loaded her plates into the dishwasher, she pondered the way Evan had come to faith. Had God really had a hand in their separation?

What might happen in her own marriage if she and Joe shared that kind of faith?

She slammed the dishwasher door. No, Joe could never believe in anything he couldn’t analyze and quantify. And she wasn’t sure she could, either.

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