Finding Faith

  Feeling angrier by the minute, she went to the rest room and washed off her makeup with her three-step face-care method. After moisturizing she brushed her teeth, then returned to the bedroom.

  David sat on the edge of the bed, setting his travel alarm, his roller bag tucked neatly by the nightstand. They needed to talk, but apparently he didn’t think so. Did he think they could go through the whole weekend this way? Just the thought of it was enough to make acid stir in her stomach. She’d be snacking on Rolaids all weekend if they didn’t resolve it.

  David jerked the sheet loose from the edges of the bed with a hard, angry yank and got under the covers.

  “What is your problem?” she asked.

  Silence was his answer.

  She tried again. “You haven’t said a word to me all night, David. You haven’t touched me. You’ve hardly looked at me. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  He lay down, punching his pillow up and turning away toward the window. “What could be wrong? You just got everything you wanted.” The tone of his words was chipped from an ice block.

  She tugged the covers back and sat on her side of the bed. Yes, she got what she wanted in her career, but why the silent treatment from David?

  Her frustration with him grew. “We just talked two days ago, and everything was fine. You said you’d move to Chicago, and now you’re saying you won’t? I don’t get you at all. I can’t read your mind, and I’m not into telepathic messages, so maybe you can clue me in.”

  He reached over the side of the bed. “Messages. Ah yes, they can be quite enlightening.” He tossed something to her side of the bed, and it landed on her bare leg. “You forgot something last weekend.”

  Her phone. She’d thought she’d lost it at the airport.

  “Messages . . . they can be quite enlightening.” His words rang back in her mind, making sense in a way that made her middle clamp up.

  “Go ahead, Paula. You’d better get all the important messages you missed this week.”

  She was shaking now. The phone sat in her clammy palm. She didn’t want to hear them. Just the thought of what might be on there made her want to go up on deck and toss the thing out into the frigid waters of Lake Michigan.

  She made herself turn on the phone and push the buttons to retrieve her messages. She put the phone against her ear. Her heart pounded up into her throat. The first message began. It was Cindy calling on Miles’s behalf with a question about the dry-cleaning story. The next message was from Linn. Paula listened to it, part of her wanting to skip ahead, the other part wanting to turn off the phone.

  The bed was still except for the slight rocking of the boat. Back and forth. Back and forth. Beside her, David lay as tense and still as a coiled snake.

  The next message began.

  “Hi, Paula, it’s Deb. I just wanted to say thank you. I know how hard it must’ve been to tell Steve and me about your—abortion.”

  Paula sucked in her breath.

  “And I hate to bring this up, but there’ll be custody papers you’ll need to sign.”

  Oh, God, no.

  “I’m sure you knew that was coming, but, well, anyway . . . Also, Steve and I would like to talk to the nurse you got your information from. I know you said her name was Louise Garner, but I’m not finding a number for her in the phone book. Well, we’re praying for you, Paula. Talk to you later.”

  Paula closed the phone, and it dropped on the mattress beside her leg. Her breaths came in shallow puffs. Her heart beat like a frightened rabbit’s, kicking frantically against her rib cage.

  Oh, God, why did this have to happen? Think, Paula, think. He knows you had an abortion.

  Deb also mentioned custody papers. Does he know Deb is the mother from the Morgan story? Maybe he’s forgotten.

  What did it matter? She had to tell him the whole truth now anyway. This wasn’t the way she’d planned it. They were supposed to be in the privacy of their home when she explained it. She was supposed to tell him first, not have him find out on his own.

  “I—I was going to tell you.” It sounded lame, but it was the only thing she could think of.

  “Right, Paula.”

  “I was! I was going to tell you this weekend when I went home, but then everything got messed up when Miles invited us here.”

  David turned then, but she wished he hadn’t. His eyes were like cold death. “You lied to me all this time, and you think I’m going to believe you now?” His tone was as flat and icy as a frozen lake.

  “I know it sounds implausible, but it’s true, David. I swear it.”

  He ripped the covers back and went to stand in front of the window.

  What was going through his mind? How could she fix it? Why hadn’t she told him earlier? She should have told him before the Morgans. David was her husband, after all.

  He turned and stabbed her with a look. The corner of his nose curled up in a snarl. “Why would I believe anything you tell me?”

  She reared back at the hissed words. She didn’t know this man. “Let me explain. Please.”

  “I don’t need your sorry explanations, Paula. I already got them from Louise Garner.”

  Louise Garner. Oh please, no, God. He’s heard it all. He knows it all, and he heard it from someone else.

  Oh, God, he’ll never forgive this.

  “I’m so sorry, David.”

  Lame, lame, lame! What good would her apologies do now?

  “Sorry? You’re sorry?” He sneered the word.

  She hugged her knees to her chest.

  “You aborted our baby and told me you’d miscarried? Miscarried, Paula? I wanted that baby. I grieved that baby. I held you and tried to comfort you, and you lied about all of it!” His voice escalated, and she wondered if the Hardings could hear him. “And then you find out by some miracle that our baby, our child, survived—and you didn’t tell me?”

  David’s image blurred through the tears that began pouring down her face.

  “And you’re—sorry? Sorry, Paula, is for someone who forgets an appointment or someone who says something in anger, or someone who betrays a confidence. Sorry is not for—for this.”

  She sniffled. “You’re right. You’re right, David. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  “That’s right, you don’t.”

  She stared down at the bedspread. His anger glared like the afternoon sun, and she couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “How could you do it? That’s all I want to know. Did you sacrifice our baby on the altar of your career, Paula? Was the pregnancy just one little snag on the way up your precious corporate ladder?”

  She closed her eyes and wiped her nose. If only she could deny it. But it was true. She had done it for her career. It was every bit as awful as he made it sound. She knew that now.

  “I made a horrible mistake. I’d do anything to go back and change it, David. Anything.”

  “Did you plan the abortion before you went to Chicago, or was it a last-minute decision to end our baby’s life?”

  “I—”

  “Were you just planning to brush it all under the rug and go your merry way?”

  “David, I—”

  “And our daughter. My daughter. Didn’t you think I might like to know she was alive? Was I ever going to get to see her or hold her or tell her I love her?”

  She realized then that she did have something to offer. She could tell him about Faith. He would want to know every detail. “Her name is Faith,” she said through a constricted throat.

  David went still.

  “She’s got eyes the color of mine, but they’re shaped like yours, kind of almond-shaped but turned up at the corners a bit. When she smiles, they look like crescent moons. Her skin is dark for being in the middle of winter. I think, in the summer, she would tan, not burn like me. Her hair is dark, the color Mom’s used to be, and she has these adorable curls . . .”

  David’s face wore a look she’d never seen. Part awe, part brokenheartedness.
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  She didn’t know whether or not to continue, but plunged in anyway. “She’s very curious and active and affectionate to—”

  “Stop.” The word seemed to grate across his throat. He turned the stiff line of his back toward her. Beyond the window the night was dark, a black, empty canvas.

  Had she said too much? She’d only wanted to give him what little she had to offer. She noted the broadness of his shoulders and how they tapered down to a trim waist. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg his forgiveness again. But he’d already told her it was too little, too late. She drew her knees closer and laid her cheek against her folded arms.

  “David,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you.”

  He was quiet so long, she wondered if he’d heard her. Tears ran down her temple and into her hairline. What was he thinking about? He’d gone from raging anger to a chilling calmness, and it frightened her.

  “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sorrier than I can say for what I’ve done. I’m sorry I did it, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. You mean more to me than anything—”

  “Stop it.”

  She smothered the sob that clogged her throat. There was nothing she could say now. She’d ruined everything that mattered . . . and all for a career.

  “You cheated me out of fatherhood,” David said, startling her. “I could’ve had a little girl who ran to meet me when I came home. Who called me Daddy and gazed at me with stars in her eyes. Now she belongs to someone else.”

  Paula closed her eyes against the truth. It was too harsh, too final. And it had been all her doing.

  “There’s nothing you can do now to fix that.” He turned toward her.

  She searched his eyes. They were bathed in regret and something else she couldn’t quite define. Hope began to stir at his words. There wasn’t any going back, only going forward. Maybe he saw that now.

  “I fell head over heels for you when we met.” His eyes narrowed as if he was examining the past. “And we’ve had our rough times. But lately I’ve grown to love you more than I ever thought possible.”

  “Me too, David.” She let her love for him shine through her eyes. He had to know how much she loved him.

  He paused. “But I don’t know who you are. The woman I fell in love with would never do what you’ve done.”

  “David, I—”

  “The woman I’ve been married to has a dark corner in her heart that I didn’t know about. A dark corner that has undermined every thought, every feeling I have toward her. I can’t love someone I don’t know, and Paula”—he shook his head—“I don’t know you at all.”

  “Yes, you do. You do. I’m not this—”

  “I don’t want to hear any more.” He opened his case and grabbed a turtleneck, pulling it over his head. Next was a pair of Dockers.

  She sat upright, letting her knees fall flat. What was he doing? They were stuck on a boat, and the Hardings were up on the deck. “Where are you going?”

  David buttoned his pants and walked toward the door.

  She clutched the pillow. “Where are you going?”

  He stopped, his hand curled around the doorknob. “I can’t stay in here with you. I’m not sleeping with a stranger.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  He opened the door and stepped through it. Then the door clicked shut with a snap of finality.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  David turned and waved good-bye to Miles as he stepped off the plank. Hints of light had only now begun to appear on the horizon. He lined up the roller bag beside him and started down the pier, where Miles had arranged for a taxi to meet him.

  He’d slept on the padded bench that lined the windows on the lower deck across from Paula’s room. When the heartburn had started, he’d sat upright against the hard-foam back. When he awakened, it was just past five and he knew what he had to do. When he heard someone stirring above, he stepped quietly into the cabin to gather his belongings. He hardly looked at Paula, who lay sleeping like their world hadn’t just screeched to a halt.

  Miles was gracious about taking him to shore when he learned there had been a “family emergency.” He asked twice if Paula wanted to go with David, but little did Miles know that the family emergency was all Paula’s doing.

  The wheels on the suitcase thudded over the wooden planks. When he reached the end of the pier, he saw the cab waiting along the street. He hurried his steps. The further he got from Paula, the happier he’d be. Even as the thought formed in his mind, his gut refuted it by clenching down hard. It was just anger, he told himself. And he had every right to that emotion.

  He stepped into the cab, stowing his suitcase on the seat beside him. “O’Hare Airport.”

  The driver grunted and pulled away from the curb. David called to check on flights and found out he’d be stuck at O’Hare until three thirty. He closed his phone and dropped it into his coat pocket.

  Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the cold, vinyl seat. He could picture Paula crying the night before and pleading for forgiveness, her green eyes covered by a glassy layer of tears. He shook the image from his mind. He could count the times on one hand that he’d seen her cry.

  He turned his head and watched the steel and concrete landscape whizzing by. Was this Paula’s home now? Was she going to take the job and live here? Was their marriage over?

  He didn’t see any way it could be salvaged. There was more hurt and rage inside him than he knew what to do with. It seemed like it was a week ago that he’d talked to Louise Garner, when, in fact, it had only been yesterday morning. He’d told her he was Paula’s assistant, calling for details on the story. It was a lie he hadn’t stopped long enough to feel guilty for.

  Louise had been all too willing to talk, though her words were slow in coming. David had fished carefully and had eventually gotten the full story.

  Now he almost wished he hadn’t. Would it have been better to confront Paula with the message on her cell phone? Would she have told him the truth? He would never know.

  Her words from the night before whispered in his mind. “I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Then why, Paula? Why did you do this? It was our baby.

  And she was alive. The thought smacked him like a gust of February wind. She was here somewhere in Chicago. The cab stopped at a light, and he watched a dozen people cross the road. She could be only miles away. He was closer to her now than he’d ever been, and he longed to see his little girl. His heart sped at the thought. He had hours before his flight left—almost a whole day. He opened his mouth to speak to the driver, then shut it again.

  Was he ready for that? Was he ready to face the little girl who didn’t even know he existed? Was he ready to see her and walk away again, as if nothing had happened? Were the Morgans even willing to let that happen?

  He needed more time. Time for the red coal of anger burning in his gut to cool off. The reality deflated him, and his breath left in a whoosh. He wished he had a picture at least so he could look into her face and see if there was a resemblance to him as Paula had said. He remembered the tape he had of Good Morning America, when the Morgans had been on TV. But even then, Faith hadn’t been present.

  Then something else came to him. Faith had some kind of disability. Paula had mentioned it when she’d been covering the story. Was it muscular dystrophy? Cerebral palsy? David couldn’t remember for certain, but now he wondered if the abortion had had something to do with his daughter’s condition.

  He ached inside at the thought. Was there no end to this nightmare? Not only had he been cheated of his daughter, but his daughter had been cheated of a healthy body.

  Someone else was taking care of her, taking her to doctor appointments and showing her how to tie her shoelaces. Everything he knew about the Morgans was positive, and he knew they were Christians. He supposed he should take comfort in knowing Faith was being raised in a loving home.
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  But somehow the thought only made him long for her more.

  * * *

  On Monday morning Paula rolled her chair into the slot at her desk and moved the mouse to wake up the sleeping computer. She blinked a few times, trying to shake out of the daze she’d been in since David left her on the yacht. She’d been in a fog through the whole staff meeting when Miles announced her promotion. She barely heard the congratulations offered by nearly everyone at the station. Instead, her mind was on David.

  For the hundredth time her mind flicked back to their horrible weekend. How could things have turned so bad so quickly? David’s parting words rang in her mind until she wished she had a delete button. The night of the argument she’d lain in bed for hours, listening for David’s return, wondering where he’d gone, and how they’d get through the rest of the weekend.

  As it turned out, she needn’t have worried about that. When she’d awakened late the next morning, after having fallen asleep in the wee hours of the night, she found out David was gone . . .

  * * *

  “I’m so sorry there’s been an emergency in the family,” Eleanor said. “I hope everything’s OK.”

  Paula tried for a smile. “I’m sure it will be.”

  “Miles insisted it was OK for you to leave, too, but David said he could handle it on his own.”

  Paula peered out the cabin windows, wondering if David was gone already or if he was still aboard somewhere. She hadn’t noticed if his suitcase was still beside the bed. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

  “Oh, it was no trouble at all. Miles is an early riser anyway. I swear the man only needs five hours of sleep.”

  They made small talk while chopping up onions and green peppers for omelets.

  Somehow Paula got through the remainder of the weekend without breaking down.

  However, when she arrived back at her apartment on Sunday, she escaped to her room and cried until she was drained.

  * * *