Contingency: Covenant of Trust Book One

  “Welcome home,” Bobbi said. Her voice, soft and gentle, startled him so that he had to grab the corner of the bed.

  “I thought you were asleep. You scared me.”

  “I missed you this week.”

  “Missed me? But I’m gone all the time.”

  “I was gone this time. I felt like I’d abandoned you.”

  He flipped the bathroom light off, then pulled the covers back, and climbed in bed beside her. “You had a good time, though?”

  “I did, but . . . I don’t know. It just really hit home how much I missed you.” She surprised him, laying a hand on his chest, then leaning over to kiss him on the lips. “I wish it was a different . . . uh . . . week of the month, you know.”

  “I’ll give you a rain check. We’re both exhausted, anyway.”

  “I intend to collect . . . soon as possible.” She nestled beside him, once again laying a hand on his chest.

  “Goodnight, Bobbi.” He didn’t move a muscle until he heard her breathing grow slower and deepen. He had to think. This was Thursday. He was going to be out of town next week until Thursday evening. If he made it a point of being with Bobbi this weekend, then he could see Tracy Thursday. That would work. He’d have things to catch up on so it would make sense for him to stay late at the office. Thursday it is.

  CHAPTER 17 CAPITULATION

  Thursday, November 24, Thanksgiving Day

  Chuck settled in front of the television and arranged Styrofoam containers from his carryout dinner on the coffee table. The most pathetic Thanksgiving ever. Before he could get the first bite down, the ring of his cell phone startled him. He glanced at the caller ID. Rita and Gavin? “Hello?”

  “Hey, Dad, is Mom there with you?” Brad asked.

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know . . . Mom didn’t come to Thanksgiving. She was sick. All day yesterday, too. Aunt Rita called to see if Mom was feeling better, and she couldn’t get an answer at home. She just left to go check on Mom.”

  “It’s probably nothing. You know how hard your mom sleeps if she takes cold medicine, or maybe she went out to the drugstore or something.” Chuck tried to hide his rising worry. This wasn’t like Bobbi. “I’ll see what I can find out. Thanks for letting me know.” Chuck shifted the phone from ear to ear as he put on his jacket.

  Thirty seconds later, Chuck jerked his BMW in gear and headed home. He took advantage of the light traffic, rolling through stop signs and anticipating green lights.

  A half a block from his house, he saw Rita’s car in Bobbi’s spot in the driveway. She sat in her car, talking on her cell phone. Chuck parked behind her, then got out and tapped on her window.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as soon as the electric window slid open.

  “Brad called me. Have you tried Bobbi’s cell phone?”

  “I just did. No answer. Where could she be?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go inside. Maybe we can figure something out.”

  “You still have a key?” Rita asked, getting out of her car.

  “Yes, I still have a key,” Chuck answered without trying to hide his irritation. He unlocked the door and dashed from room to room, surveying the house. He met Rita back in the entry hall. “Nothing looks out of place, but I didn’t see Bobbi’s purse anywhere.”

  “Her phone was in the kitchen,” Rita said, handing it to Chuck. “Wherever she is, she doesn’t want to be disturbed. When was the last time you talked to her?”

  “Tuesday night.”

  “Same here. Did she sound okay to you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Chuck closed his eyes and rested the side of his fist against his lips. Bobbi was tired Tuesday, didn’t say much, but that seemed to be the new normal. “Try the Shannons. Sometimes Bobbi talks to Donna. It’s all I can come up with right now.”

  While Rita called, Chuck paced through the house. Bobbi filled every empty spot on the wall, every flat space on the shelves and tables with framed pictures. Most of the photos were of the boys, but here and there, she mixed in a few photos of the two of them.

  Off to the side of one of the shelves in the built-in bookcase sat a small rock. He smiled and lifted it from its spot. Only Bobbi would keep a rock from the Dixson Lake boat ramp. No pictures of the lake . . .

  “I know where she is!” he said, and bolted for the front door.

  “Donna hasn’t talked to her, but now she’s worried, too.” Rita said, as Chuck blew past her toward the front door. “Where are you going?”

  “I know where Bobbi is. I’ll call you.” He slammed the front door behind him before Rita could protest or volunteer to go with him.

  Chuck pushed his BMW to its limits on the drive to Dixson Lake State Park. She had to be okay. Bobbi wasn’t the irrational type . . . and she hadn’t left any kind of note or anything . . . Don’t even go there. She wouldn’t . . . She was exhausted, that’s all. She was exhausted, and she was at the lake. She had to be at the lake.

  It made perfect sense. Everybody wanted something from her. Everybody was pressuring her. Even him. Especially him. She was using all her energy to take care of her family, and neglecting herself. She reached a breaking point and felt like she needed to get away. That had to be it.

  As he rounded a bend and caught his first glimpse of the boat ramp, his chest constricted. A heavy chain and padlock hung on the gate of the deserted boat ramp with a sign ‘closed for the season.’ He lost the strength to keep his foot on the brake and his car inched forward. He’d been so sure he’d find her here.

  He pulled his hand back up to the steering wheel and left the boat ramp. He remembered a spot a little further down the gravel road that should be wide enough for him to turn his car around. He wheeled the BMW in a wide circle, then threw it into reverse. As he looked over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a color that didn’t belong among the sparse trees and brush. A deep metallic burgundy . . . Bobbi’s Camry!

  He jerked the car back on the road, throwing gravel, fighting to keep it straight as he accelerated through the bend. Bobbi stood, leaning against the front fender of her car, hands thrust deep into her coat pockets. Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God. He fumbled to get his phone from his pocket. Rita answered before the first ring faded. “I found her,” he said, swallowing to keep Rita from hearing him cry. “She’s okay.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Never mind that. You can stop worrying, and let Donna know she can, too. I’ll make sure Bobbi gets home safe.” Even though he could hear Rita trying to ask him more questions, he hung up. When she called right back, he turned his phone off. He parked his car behind Bobbi’s, blocking it in. Now she couldn’t leave before he did.

  It was hardly a picnic area, just a table and a cast-iron grill mounted on a pipe set in a slab of concrete, but Dixson Lake stretched before them. Bobbi stared off into the lake, wisps of hair blowing across her face in the gentle wind. If she heard him, she didn’t turn around. Chuck got out of his car and pushed the door shut with a soft click. He scuffed his feet against the gravel so he didn’t startle her.

  “You’re good,” she said, catching him off guard.

  “If I was good, you wouldn’t be out here alone on Thanksgiving.” He eased up as close to her as he dared. Don’t shut down now.

  “Have you ever wanted to just disappear?” Her eyes never moved from the lake.

  “Right after I picked up that phone message from you.” He stared out across the gray water along with her.

  “Why’d you come home then?” She turned and looked at him, her eyes filled with sad confusion.

  “I couldn’t imagine my life without you. I had to see if you loved me enough to give me another chance.”

  “I want to, Chuck,” she said, dropping her head. “I really do.”

  “But?”

  “This is killing me. I can’t sleep. I’m barely getting by at school—”

  “What is it?”

  She raised her head, but her dark eyes f
litted away from his, landing on the brush behind him, the gravel at her feet, and finally back on the lake. Telling him wasn’t safe. Tell the water then, but Bobbi, say it, please.

  “I’m afraid.” She blinked several times, then words tumbled out. “I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me again, but I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of being abandoned again . . .” Her voice trailed off and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

  Chuck leaned in and slid his right arm around her, then he folded her body against his, anchoring her with his left arm. When she didn’t push him away, erasing the months he ached to hold her, he cried with her.

  All this time, he thought the turmoil came from resisting reconciliation while claiming forgiveness. She was struggling with much more than his infidelity. Deeper than anger, hurt, or even betrayal, he had shaken her to the very core of her soul, touching off her deepest, most primal fears.

  As she cried, Chuck kissed her lightly. “I love you,” he whispered. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”

  After several minutes of sobbing, she raised her head, and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry I ruined your Thanksgiving.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve never been so thankful in my entire life.” She trusted him again, trusted him enough to show him her heart. Chuck kissed her once more and wiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re freezing. Let me take you home.” Chuck felt her body tense. “Please, Bobbi.”

  “But my car—”

  “I’ll get Gavin or somebody to come back with me tomorrow to get it.” She relaxed against him and he walked her back to his car. He opened the passenger door for her, then reached across and started the engine. “I’m going to set the brake on your car and lock it up.”

  As he walked around to Bobbi’s car, he turned his phone back on. It alarmed, indicating a message and several missed calls from home. He hit redial and Rita stunned him when she let it ring once before answering.

  “You jerk! Why’d you hang up on me?”

  “Don’t you want to know how Bobbi is?”

  “Of course! Where was she?”

  “I’m bringing her home now, but you have to be out of the house.”

  “No, I want to talk to her.”

  “Rita, you and I can have this out later. Right now, Bobbi’s very fragile, and I don’t want her to know how worried we all were. I’ll have her call you in the morning.”

  For a long moment, she didn’t respond. “I’ll keep the boys at my house tonight,” Rita said. “You’ll stay with her?”

  “I won’t leave her . . . ever.”

  CHAPTER 18 COMMUNICATION

  Bobbi felt like they chased the daylight all the way back home, only to have it escape. Clouds obscured the moon and stars in the dark sky. They arrived at their dark, empty street, welcomed by their dark, empty house. But her dark emptiness had evaporated.

  For Bobbi, her husband’s touch ended the exile her head had imposed on her heart. In spite of the tears, maybe because of them, she began to relax. She had missed him so much. She missed the way he loved her, not just through the months of their separation. It had been years since he loved her. Nestled against his old leather jacket, the one she bought him, she felt comfortable, secure, safe.

  He knew her well enough to find her, and loved her enough to come after her. For the first time since that wrenching morning in July, she had hope.

  She let Chuck open doors for her and walk her inside. “Are you hungry?” he asked, flipping on the entry hall light.

  “No.”

  “Will you eat anyway? Please?”

  “I haven’t been to the grocery store in a while. Our only option may be peanut butter and jelly.” She walked toward the kitchen, but in the time it took her to cross the room to turn on the light, Chuck swung the refrigerator door open.

  “Looks like some elves have been here, then.” Chuck pointed to a complete Thanksgiving dinner in labeled plastic storage containers.

  “Rita. She’s been here. She knows I was gone. How am I gonna explain everything to her?”

  “Don’t worry about it tonight.” Chuck took the storage containers out of the refrigerator, inspected them, and set them on the counter. “I talked to her already, and promised you’d call her tomorrow.”

  Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Rita . . . my sister . . . talked to you?”

  “Rita and I will be fine. We both want the same thing. We just have a difference of opinion on how to get there.” He put a container of mashed potatoes in the microwave and punched in the cook time.

  “What is it that you both want, then?” Bobbi watched Chuck get plates and silverware ready. Apparently, he did know where she kept them.

  “We want to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

  “A little unrealistic.”

  “But worth shooting for.”

  He continued reheating vegetables, turkey, dressing, and bread. Bobbi took a seat at the breakfast table and Chuck arranged the containers in front of her. Microwaving more than one item was slaving in a kitchen for him, and now he was serving her. Of course. She scared him so now she merited the ‘complete basket case’ treatment.

  “Tea?” he asked.

  “Just water.”

  Chuck filled two glasses with ice water, and sat down across from her. He held out his hand so he could ask the blessing on the meal. She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. She felt the slightest, hopeful squeeze as he bowed his head.

  “Father God, I can’t thank You enough for letting me be here with Bobbi for this meal. Thank You for bringing us this far, and I ask for Your help the rest of the way. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  No one could compete with Rita’s cooking, even reheated, and Bobbi savored every forkful, until she felt eyes on her. Chuck’s silverware lay across his plate. He watched her as if he had never seen her before.

  “What?”

  “You asked a question out at the lake, and instead of answering it, I should have kept my mouth shut and let you talk. Can we go back to that question?”

  “About disappearing?”

  “Is that how you feel?”

  “Felt. I couldn’t see how I was going to get out of this.”

  “This what?”

  “Life. I can’t do my job. I’m not taking care of the boys. I’m just sleepwalking through my days. Something has to give.” She took a long drink from her water glass. “I reconsidered divorce, but that would create more problems than it would solve. And, honestly, death . . . started to have some appeal.” She glanced away from him, shamed by the admission.

  “You went to the lake to commit suicide?” He shuddered.

  “No. I went to the lake because I knew there had to be another alternative. God doesn’t want me divorced and I don’t think He wants me dead, but beyond that . . .” She twisted her fork in her mashed potatoes. “There are too many questions that I don’t have answers for anymore,” she said, a weary resignation in her voice.

  “This is about more than just me, isn’t it?”

  Bobbi rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling. “It would be so easy to lay all of this at your feet, blame you for everything.” She looked at him with the slightest smile. She still loved him. “I think you would take the blame even, but no, it’s not just you.”

  She took a sip from her water. “That lake has meant a lot to both of us, our first date, our engagement . . . I wanted to go back, to start over, so I drove out there and I asked God to meet me there.”

  “Did He?”

  “It was so real, like He was right there. I’ve felt like I was in prison, trapped by circumstances, and God said, ‘No one ever locked the door. You can walk out any time.’ I protested that God had to change things first. ‘No,’ He said. ‘I want to change you. I want you to stop trying to go through this in your own strength. I want you to trust Me.’”

  “Sounds familiar,” Chuck said.

  “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

  “Are we?”

  “A pa
ir? Somehow, yes, we are still a pair. I haven’t figured out the details—”

  Chuck held up a hand. “Don’t need details. That little reassurance was enough.”

  “I’m making you nuts, aren’t I?”

  “That’s beside the point. How can I help you?”

  “I don’t know if you can. If I can’t trust God now, when things are so hard, and so painful . . . what other alternative do I have? Where else can I turn?” She took another drink from her water glass, wiping the bottom of the glass on her napkin before setting it back on the table. “I told the Lord everything I was afraid of.”

  Chuck reached across the table, and took Bobbi’s hands in his. “I will never hurt you again. You don’t have to be afraid of that.”

  “You sound pretty sure.”

  “I am. I’ve learned so much in the last few months, counseling with Phil and studying on my own. The Bible talks about how husbands should love their wives the way Christ loved the church, even giving Himself for it. That means more than just being willing to die for you.”

  He pushed back from the table. “I’ll show you. Let me grab something out of the car.” She watched him walk out, and wondered if she should pinch herself. In eighteen years of marriage, Chuck never treated her with such consideration. Phil Shannon must be some kind of teacher, or Chuck was an incredible actor. Either way, it unnerved her too much to enjoy the attention.

  When Chuck came back in the kitchen, he carried a manila envelope under his arm. He dropped it on the table and took his seat again. “Jesus spent every moment, all His energy, equipping His disciples, making sure they could fulfill what God had given them to do. Even now, He’s preparing a place for us, and interceding for us. That’s the way I want to pour myself into loving you, the way you deserve, the way I should have all along.”

  He pushed the envelope toward her. “I will do anything it takes to prove this to you. Open it.”

  She slid the packet of papers out and leafed through them. The first group was from the investment firm, with the spots for her signature highlighted. Chuck had signed them back in October. The next sheets were legal documents settling the harassment lawsuit with Tracy. The last sheet was a letter of resignation.

  Bobbi looked up in wide-eyed disbelief. “Chuck, you can’t. Your dad started that firm. You can’t—”