A few weeks later, with that same expression, she whispered, “Chuck . . . I’m pregnant.”
“What? How?”
“Well, Sweetheart, when a husband and wife love each other, there are many special ways to show that—”
“Bobbi! I’m not talking about mechanics!”
She smiled that smile again. “I guess God wants to give us a reconciliation gift.” God gave him more than reconciliation gift. Shannon Hope Molinsky proved God forgave him.
He smiled and set the picture back on his desk, and glancing out through the glass walls of his office, he nodded to Christine, his receptionist. He adjusted his glasses, and began reading again. Before he finished two pages, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
Bobbi charged across the lobby, her jaw set, fire in her eyes. Before he could react, she banged his office door closed behind her. “So help me, God, if you knew about this, Chuck, I will divorce you right now!” She threw a packet of papers across the desk.
“What are you talking about? If I knew about what?”
“I asked you!” Bobbi leaned across his desk, pointing a finger at him. “I asked you specifically if she was pregnant!”
“Who? Tracy? She wasn’t.”
“Read that last name on my class list! It’s her son!”
Chuck picked up the papers without taking his eyes off his wife. He swallowed hard and adjusted his glasses, then skimmed the top sheet until he found ‘Jackson Charles Ravenna’. A wave of squeezing pressure hit his chest. “How do you know—?”
“Next to last page,” she snapped.
He looked away from her icy glare and carefully turned pages. This had to be a misunderstanding, a mistake of some sort. His eyes ran down the sheet looking for ‘Jackson Charles Ravenna.’ He immediately recognized Tracy’s handwriting. Before his mind blasted in a thousand directions, he looked back up at his wife, battling to maintain calm in his voice. “Now Bobbi—”
“Don’t patronize me!” She slammed her hand down on his desk. “You look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. Did you know about this boy?”
“No.” He locked eyes with her. “I’m as shocked as you are.”
“I doubt that,” Bobbi shot back. “She hasn’t tried to contact you?”
“No.”
“Have you tried to contact her?”
He could feel heat rising under his shirt collar, and his pulse began to pound.
“Chuck . . . answer me,” Bobbi seethed with quiet fury.
Chuck wished she were still yelling. “When I split the firm and sent Pete to open the Kansas City office . . .” Her clenched jaw twitched ever so slightly. “I checked with the Missouri Bar to see if she was there.” Bobbi dropped her head and huffed. “That’s all, I swear. I’ve never, ever tried to find a phone number, an address, nothing.”
“Say it without blinking.”
“I haven’t had any contact with Tracy in seven years.”
“That’s about to change,” Bobbi smirked, and pointed at the class list. “He’s yours, isn’t he?”
“He couldn’t be. She told me she took care of everything.”
“And of course she wouldn’t lie.” Bobbi rolled her eyes at him, and jabbed a finger toward the packet. “Look at his birth date.”
“April eighteenth. So?”
“Do the math.”
Chuck’s blood ran cold as he counted backwards nine months. He looked up from the paper, into his wife’s eyes, as her anger gave way to fear and uncertainty.
“Bobbi, I don’t know what to say . . .” He wanted to cry, yell, throw something, punch something, then rip the papers up in little tiny pieces.
“Almost to the day, isn’t it?” she said quietly.
He rested his hand on his desk, so she couldn’t see it shake, and slowly pushed his chair back from his desk.
“What are we going to do?” Bobbi slumped into one of the office chairs.
“I don’t know,” Chuck answered, his voice just above a whisper. “I can’t think right now.” Tracy . . . was pregnant . . . “That lyin’ . . .” He clenched his fist, crumpling the papers still in his hand. “How could she . . .? Pregnant . . .” He stood and reached for his suit jacket.
“What are you doing?” Bobbi stood between him and his office door. “I’m gonna go straighten this out.”
“Now?”
“She owes me an explanation! I think she intended to get pregnant all along—”
“Chuck! You’re six years too late! We’re not dealing with a pregnancy anymore. She has a son. A little boy—”
“Then I need to find out if he’s mine.”
“His middle name is Charles. I think that’s a fairly good indicator.”
“What if she’s just playing games?”
“No, I saw this kid today. I’m sure it was him. He looks just like Joel, except his hair is the same color as his mother’s.”
“You saw him? Where was Tracy?”
“I don’t know. He was with an older woman. He called her Emma.”
“Emma? Who’s Emma?” He pulled his jacket on. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.”
She grasped him by the arm. “Are you insane? In the first place, I will not sit by and let you go see your mistress—”
“She’s NOT . . .” Chuck turned away and took a deep breath. “Bobbi, how could you . . . how could you say that? I thought we were past—”
“It’s not past anymore.” She held her hand to her face. “It’s all right in front of me again. You have no idea what you’re walking into. Get some help on this before you do anything. Before we do anything.”
At least she corrected herself, and said “we.” He needed to get his wife some reassurance, quickly, before the trust between them deteriorated further. “Call Rita. See if she and Gavin can meet us at the house in an hour or so.”
“Kara’s working today. Rita’s got her girls and Shannon.”
“We’ll send the kids outside or something. I’m gonna call Glen.” Bobbi crossed her arms across her chest and paced away from him while punched numbers on his cell phone.
Pastor Glen Dillard picked up quickly. “This is kind of a strange time to call. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, Glen. I mean, nobody’s hurt or anything, but something’s come up. Can you meet us at the house in about an hour?”
“Sure, but can you give me a little to go on?”
Chuck glanced at his wife and lowered his voice. “The woman I had the affair with is back. I’ll explain the rest at the house.”
“How’s Bobbi?” The seriousness in Glen’s voice encouraged Chuck in an odd way.
“She’s okay. I think she’ll be okay.”
“Can I call Laurie at work just to have her start praying?”
“Tell her ‘thanks’.”
Bobbi turned Chuck’s desk phone around so she could use it. “You just dial like a normal phone, right?” she asked before pushing any numbers.
“Dial a nine, first.” Chuck reached across the desk, and pushed the buttons, turning on the speakerphone.
“I hate speakerphones.”
“I want to hear what Rita says.”
“You may change your mind on that.” They waited three long rings before Rita answered. “Hello? Chuck?”
“No, it’s me,” Bobbi replied. “I’m at his office.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Listen to me very carefully before you go off, all right? I picked up my class list today, and there was a Jackson Charles Ravenna on it.”
“No. . . Tell me it’s not . . .”
“It is.” Bobbi swallowed hard, and looked at him with a mixture of sadness and accusation. “And he’s almost certainly Chuck’s.” There was dead silence on the line.
“Did Chuck know about this?” Rita asked at last, each word sharper. “Not until I told him.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“You took a little while to answer that,” Rita said. Chuck closed his eyes and shook his head.
“I have to believe him.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Can you and Gavin meet us at the house in about an hour?”
“Of course. Kara was off today after all, so she came and took the girls to her house.”
“Perfect. Start praying, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Baby, I am so sorry. I thought this was over for you.”
“It will never be over, Rita. Never.” Bobbi returned the office phone receiver to its cradle.
“Do you believe me?” Chuck asked.
She looked past him to the photos on the bookcase behind him, then her eyes darted to the crinkled papers on his desk. “It felt just like that morning I read her e-mail. All I could think was that you’d lied to me.” Chuck rounded the desk to take her in his arms. “I don’t have the strength to go through this again,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to. I didn’t lie.”
“I know. I know you didn’t.” She relaxed against him. “Bobbi, I can’t do this without you.”
Across the lobby, Christine Gardner tried not to watch the Molinskys through the glass walls. When Mrs. Molinsky tore through the lobby without speaking, Christine knew something happened. Seeing the angry confrontation, and hearing the raised voices, confirmed it was something extraordinary. She could only think of one person who could get that kind of reaction from Bobbi—Tracy Ravenna.
Chad Mitchell, Chuck’s right hand man, passed through the lobby and caught her stealing glances at the couple. “What’s going on?” he asked, nodding toward Chuck’s office.
“I’m not sure.”
“But you’ve got a gut instinct, right?”
“I can’t say anything. I might be wrong.”
“I’d bet my life on your instincts.”
“Please don’t breathe a word of this, but Mr. Mitchell, I think Tracy is back.”
Get Indemnity: Book 2 in the Covenant of Trust Series Free
After years of believing Chuck’s affair is behind them, Bobbi’s marriage is tested again when Tracy Ravenna resurfaces. Tracy’s not alone, though. Jackson Charles Ravenna is the newest student in Bobbi’s first grade class and the spitting image of her husband. When Chuck decides to pursue joint custody, they discover Jack isn’t the only secret Tracy’s been hiding.
As Tracy’s past begins to threaten their future with Jack, Bobbi is forced to face the unsettling truth about God’s grace. But this time, what will it cost to forgive the unforgivable?
Yes! I want a free copy of Indemnity!
About The Author
After working several years as research chemist, Paula Wiseman was blessed the opportunity to stay home with her children and follow the writer’s path. She has been published in several Cup of Comfort devotional books and in Life Savors for Women. She blogs on matters of life and faith at www.paulawiseman.com. Contingency is her first novel. She enjoys small town life in Illinois with her husband, Jon, and three children.
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