“I can’t do this right now,” he muttered, stepping around the table. “I’m going to go. We’ll talk about this later.”
“This?” She slammed her hand on the table, and he froze. “Can’t you even say it?” She pushed back from the table and jerked herself to her feet. “Here, let me do it for you. You slept with another woman, Chuck! You had an affair! You committed adultery! You cheated on me.” She closed the gap between them until she stood mere inches away.
“For God’s sake, Bobbi—”
“God? Don’t drag Him into this! He didn’t have anything to do with it.” Bobbi pointed her finger right at Chuck’s heart. “It was all you!”
“I know!” His instincts told him to unload on her, to match her yelling and slamming, but he couldn’t. “I’m going.”
“Can’t you face me? You didn’t have any trouble facing me while you were having an affair behind my back! Why should now be any different?”
“Because you’re upset. I can’t talk to you when you’re upset.” He couldn’t think of anything better than that lame excuse. His points, his concessions, his action plan vanished.
“Upset? I just found out my husband is having an affair! How did you expect me to act when you got home?”
“Maybe coming home was a mistake!” he shouted as he walked back to the front hallway to get his bag and briefcase.
Chuck twisted the last screw in the last outlet in the last upstairs bedroom of the biggest house in the subdivision. His knees popped as he stood up. At least this was just a summer job.
“Got those outlets wired, college boy?” Gene Thomas, the head contractor, stepped in between the studs of the unfinished wall. Chuck enjoyed the good- natured ribbing.
“Just finished.”
“All right. I can get the drywallers in here.” He scribbled a note on his clipboard. “Get packed up, and you can get out of here.”
“But it’s not four yet.”
“Son, when your boss tells you to go home, you go.”
“I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a test.” Chuck grinned and walked over to close the bedroom windows.
“You’re too smart for this job.” Gene shook his head.
As Chuck slid the front window closed, an old Buick Electra, a little old lady’s car, pulled up out front. He was ready to walk away when he caught sight of tanned legs. That was no little old lady. Then he got a full view of the woman the legs belonged to. She rounded the front of the car and pushed her sunglasses up on her head. She wore her hair pulled back and pinned up. Her shirt flattered her without being tight or revealing, and she had an easy grace when she walked. “Hey, Gene, who’s that?” Chuck motioned for his boss then pointed out the window.
“The plumber’s daughter . . . Brenda, maybe . . . no . . . something with a ‘B’.”
“I gotta go.” Chuck pushed around Gene and clamored down the stairs, trying to catch the woman before she got in the house. He yanked the door open and found her standing on the porch.
“You startled me,” she said. Even at six-foot-two, he didn’t tower over her. She had a perfect Mediterranean complexion and the most beautiful deep brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just finished up, getting ready to go home.”
“Yeah, I’m here to get my dad. He’s a plumber.”
“He doesn’t drive?”
“His car’s in the shop. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Wait, can I take you for a burger or something?”
“No, I don’t even know your name.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Chuck Molinsky.”
She smiled. “Yours is almost as bad as mine. I’m Bobbi—Bobbi with an ‘i’—Petrocelli.” She shook his hand with a firm, confident grip. “What is that, Polish?”
“Russian, actually. Somewhere along the way the Slavs got mixed up some blue-eyed blondes, though. I’m not sure when that happened. Now, can I take you somewhere?”
“I don’t think so. Daddy doesn’t like for me to date construction types.”
“Oh, I’m not. I mean, I’m going to law school this fall.” He took his Missouri hat off. “See, I’ve already got a lawyer haircut. I just work for Gene in the summer.”
“You’ve . . . already finished college.”
“Is that bad?”
“I haven’t graduated high school yet. I only have a couple of weeks left, but . . .”
“You’re kidding me. I thought . . . Never mind.”
“You thought I was older?”
“At least my age.” He looked into those eyes again. “The age thing, it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t bother you.”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes sparkled. “Usually when an older guy wants to go out it’s because all the girls his own age know he’s a loser.” At least she smiled when she said it.
“You’re harsh!” He put a hand over his heart. “I swear I’m not a loser.”
“And you expect me to take your word for it?” She smiled again, and he thought he’d melt right into the unfinished floor.
“I can get you some references. Please? I’d love to spend some time with you.”
“But if I say yes on such short notice, it looks like I’m pathetic and have nothing else to do.”
“Not at all. If you’re free, I’ll figure that it’s God arranging things.”
“So, you’re a Christian?”
“Yeah, about a year now. I’m still learning.”
“Tell you what.” She took the pen from his shirt pocket, then raised his hand, and wrote her address in his palm. “Come by about seven. We’ll go for ice cream or something.”
CHAPTER 2 COUNSEL
Chuck let reflex take over and drove to his office. In the parking lot, he shut the car off and slid his seat all the way back. She’s going to divorce me. She hates me and she’s going to divorce me. In spite of all his preparations, the battle never materialized. Once he saw Bobbi with his own eyes, he couldn’t fight her. He couldn’t sit back and let her leave, either.
Think. There’s gotta be a way out of this. Who would Bobbi listen to? Besides Rita. Phil! Phil and Donna. Their pastor and his wife would never go along with divorce and Bobbi trusted Phil. Donna Shannon could convince a cat to give up chasing mice and make the cat think it was his idea all along. They were perfect. If he could get the Shannons involved, he may have hope after all.
He fished his cell phone out of his pants pocket, but he didn’t have the Shannons’ phone number saved anywhere. New plan. Get a hotel room, then call Phil from the hotel.
With her tears exhausted, Bobbi opened her eyes to a darkened house. Chuck hadn’t returned. That meant he wasn’t coming back. Of course he’s not coming back. I said I hated him. Here, my marriage is dying, and I took it off life support.
Her head throbbed, and turning on the kitchen light made it explode with pain. Bobbi snapped the light back off and called her sister.
“Hello?” Brad answered the phone.
“Honey, let me talk to Aunt Rita.”
“Mom, are you okay? You sound sick or something.”
“I’m fine.” Get him off the phone before I lose it.
“Did Dad make it home?”
“Yeah,” Bobbi whispered. She hated lying to him. How was that any different from what Chuck did to her? Because she lied to protect her son. Brad had no way to grasp the upheaval coming in his life, and she was shielding him. That was completely different, wasn’t it? “Honey, could you get Rita?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“Bobbi, what’s wrong?” Rita asked. “Is Chuck okay?”
“Chuck . . .” Bobbi took a deep breath and tried again to choke out the words. “Chuck . . . I found . . . he had an affair, Rita. He cheated on me.”
“What?” A heavy silence followed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Are you at home now?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Rita Heatley drove
to her sister’s house, her foot heavier on the accelerator with each passing mile. A block away, the light changed. “I don’t have time for red lights,” she muttered, jamming the brake pedal to the floor. How many times had she tried to warn Bobbi about him? She knew it was only a matter of time before he did something like this. “The golden boy’s not going to be able to talk his way out of this one.”
She screeched to a stop in front of Bobbi’s house, but before getting out, Rita sat in her car and counted. “One, two, three,” she whispered, with a breath after every number. Can’t lose my temper. Have to be calm for Bobbi’s sake. “Thirty-one, thirty-two.” Gavin questioned her self- control, but she could do this. “Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine.” She could keep her own feelings in check at least for tonight. “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.”
Rita let herself in the front door and called Bobbi’s name. She tiptoed from room to room until she found Bobbi in the kitchen, a wastebasket full of used tissues in the floor beside her. “Baby, I am so sorry,” she whispered, as she knelt and wrapped her arms around Bobbi’s shoulders. “So sorry.”
Bobbi twisted away from her sister. “What did I do wrong? I don’t understand.”
“Baby, don’t talk that way.” She took Bobbi’s hands and once again became the surrogate mother. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this, or cause this. If Chuck had an affair, it is one hundred percent his fault. Do you understand me? His fault.”
“There’s no ‘if’ about it,” Bobbi said, motioning toward the study. “Read the e-mail. Chuck didn’t deny it when he came home.”
“He came home?” Rita pulled a chair around and sat down.
“Briefly. Then he left again.”
“Did he go to . . . her?” If he’s with that woman right now . . .
“I doubt it. She didn’t know about me, either.”
“Who is she?”
“Someone from the law firm. I don’t know her.”
“I can’t imagine what today’s been like for you. You should have called me earlier.”
“I wanted to talk to Chuck first.” She dropped her head and fidgeted with the corner of a paper napkin. “I didn’t want him to know how much he hurt me. I exploded on him.”
“You should have!” Rita tapped the table to get Bobbi to look up. “You were completely justified.”
“But I didn’t give him a chance to explain.”
“You can’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth now. Chuck is a liar . . .”
“He’s never lied to me!”
Rita closed her eyes and tried to focus on relaxing her clenched jaw. “I’m not going to argue that with you tonight.” She concentrated on keeping her voice low. “Does Chuck want a divorce?”
Bobbi’s lips started to form words, but she made no sound. She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling and let a long breath escape. “I think he does.” Her words were so soft and weak that Rita strained to hear them over the hum of the refrigerator.
“Then there’s no sense fighting him.” The sooner Bobbi grasped that, the better.
“I want to talk to Phil before I do anything.”
“Phil will want you to drag this out for months and months.”
Bobbi snapped upright in her chair. “This is going to end up my fault. No matter what I do, Chuck will spin it until he’s the victim. At least I can say with a clear conscience that I tried everything I could.”
Good girl. “You want me to call Phil now?”
Bobbi nodded. “I don’t want Chuck to get to him first.”
When the doorbell rang, Bobbi spit the mouthful of Listerine into the bathroom sink. Rita convinced her to eat something, but the soup and toast wouldn’t stay down. Now she had to look her pastor in the eye and explain, try to explain, how her marriage imploded in the last twelve hours. If she survived that, then she had to convince Phil that divorce was the most rational alternative.
“Bobbi? They’re here. You okay?”
“I’ll be right out. Go ahead and let them in.” She splashed cold water on her face and took one last deep breath. God, forgive me. She slipped out of the bathroom and met everyone in the entry hall. “Thanks for coming,” she said, hugging Donna, and then Phil. “Come in and sit down.”
Bobbi motioned them into the living room and sat on the sofa with Donna and Rita, while Phil sat in the armchair, facing them. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, engaged, but not pressing . . . yet.
“Bobbi, Donna and I are just heartbroken for you.” Phil’s years of ministering in the Midwest hadn’t robbed him of his gentle Tennessee accent. He often reminded Bobbi of Andy Griffith, and she expected that ‘now Opie’ tone of voice any minute. “I understand this is very personal, but what can you tell me?”
“We got an e-mail from Chuck’s office from a woman named Tracy. I tried to call Chuck. When he came home, he didn’t bother denying it.” She smoothed the fringe on the throw pillow to avoid Phil’s eyes. “Oh, I listened to his phone messages. He lied to her, too. She never knew Chuck was married.” As a tear made its way down her cheek, Rita reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Do you want to end your marriage?” Phil asked without shaming her or rebuking her, and she raised her eyes.
“I don’t have any other option. He doesn’t love me—”
“I know it looks that way.”
“He never said it, Phil.” She slammed the pillow against the arm of the sofa. “He had hours to prepare his statement before he got home. There was no, ‘Bobbi, I love you’, no ‘please forgive me.’ Nothing. He’s through, and the quicker we can . . .” She blinked several times, then dropped her eyes. Don’t cry. Not in front of Phil and Donna. “There’s no sense dragging things out. I’ll give him his divorce.” Bobbi felt Rita’s hand on her back.
“I don’t blame you,” Phil said.
“Really? I didn’t think you’d go for that.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with you, I just don’t blame you for drawing that conclusion. Bobbi, can I ask you some hard questions?”
She nodded and let a deep breath escape.
“Do you want a divorce? Not what you think Chuck wants. Do you want a divorce?”
“I don’t think so. No.”
“Do you love Chuck?”
“I did.”
“That’s a great answer.” Phil smiled at her. “Would you be willing to accept, at least for right now, that your marriage might be restored through the grace and power of God?”
“That’s up to Chuck. I’m not going to fight him.”
“But are you going to fight God?”
“Depends on what God says.” Bobbi folded her arms across her chest, bracing for the sermon.
“I appreciate your honesty. Here’s what I’ve heard in your answers, but don’t hesitate to correct me. You love your husband. You hate the idea of divorce, but he’s backed you in a corner. However, if he could prove himself, you’d consider giving him another chance.”
“You’re good. I didn’t realize I’d said all that.”
“I was inferring.” Phil smiled. “So I was close?”
“Dead on.”
“Then I want you to do a couple of things for me.” He leaned forward and counted on his fingers. “First, don’t do anything. Don’t file papers. Don’t sell his stuff. Don’t get a tattoo, okay?”
Bobbi managed a smile and nod.
“This is a real shock to your life, and I don’t want either of you to do anything rash. Second, I’m going to ask you to let this sit for about three weeks.”
“That long? Why?”
“Because you’ve had a death in the family. I hope we’re not looking at the death of your marriage, but a lot of your ideas and beliefs about your marriage have died, along with the trust you had in Chuck.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Take some time to mourn, process your emotions, before we address what happens next. I also want to spend some time counseling Chuck
one-on-one, if he’ll agree to it, before we start working with the two of you. When does school start?”
“The twenty-third. The kids start on the twenty-fifth.”
Phil pulled his calendar from his back pocket, unclipped the pen, and scribbled a quick note. “Rita, is Gavin working full days, now?”
“Yes, but I’m sure he’ll help however you need him.” Phil nodded and made one more note before returning the calendar and pen to his pocket.
“So, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Bobbi asked. “Pretend like this never happened?”
“Not at all. It’s going to take you two or three times longer to get ready for school than you expect. Your boys are going to need you . . . I’m asking for three weeks to counsel Chuck. If he and I don’t make any progress, we can revisit your decision to divorce him.”
“You can fix him in three weeks?”
“No,” Phil said, raising a hand. “I didn’t say that, but we’ll know if there’s anything worth fighting for in that time.”
“You don’t think he wants a divorce?”
“I haven’t talked to him, but I’d be very surprised if he did.”
Bobbi sat in silence for several moments. Three weeks. Chuck could lay all the groundwork to ruin her in a divorce court in three weeks. “You’re asking a lot.”
“I know it, and I’m going to add one more. Don’t let what’s happened with Chuck get between you and God. God’s going to take care of this and He’s going to take care of you. I promise you that He wants to walk every step of this road with you. Don’t shut Him out.”
Bobbi averted her eyes again. “Where was God, Phil? Chuck’s supposed to be a believer. I don’t understand how God could let this happen.”
Phil pushed his fists together in front of his chest. “There’s an irresolvable tension that exists between God’s sovereignty and man’s free will. He never forces man to act or prevents him from acting. God is never caught off guard by our choices, and His purposes are always fulfilled in spite of our interference.”
Bobbi nodded and answered with an unsatisfied, “I see.”
“That’s seminary talk for ‘I don’t know.’” He dropped his hands and smiled at her. “I don’t doubt that you’re angry with God right now, too. I’d be naïve to think otherwise. However, the fact is, I can’t help you if you won’t let Him guide the process.”