Second Chance - 05 - Never Again Good-Bye

  “Full custody?” The words knocked him back. “Why would she do that?”

  “Well, she could say that you don’t have a job or a home and convince the judge that the child is better off with her right now. I was just thinking it was better if you could avoid it.”

  Wes stood frozen for a moment, trying to think as Laney might think. Would Laney do that? No, he thought. She couldn’t. “I don’t think Laney would be that opportunistic,” he said. “She does seem to care about Amy. She knows it would only hurt Amy to take her completely away.”

  “People can convince themselves of some crazy things, Wes. I’d look out, if I were you. Don’t give her too much ammunition. How did she react to the foreclosure?”

  Wes almost laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  The amusement left his eyes and faded into weariness. “She asked me to marry her.”

  “What?” The lawyer almost choked. “Marry her?”

  “Yeah. She said she’d give me all the money I needed to bail me out of this. All I had to do was plug her into Patrice’s place …” His voice trailed off as he saw that his lawyer wasn’t amused anymore.

  “And what did you say?”

  “I told her no. In no uncertain terms.”

  Bert nodded. “I see.”

  “You see what?” Wes asked. “You don’t think I ought to marry her!”

  “No.” Bert shook his head and stroked his chin. “No, of course not. I’m just wondering if this doesn’t prove my point. What will she do if you don’t? Do you think she’ll take further action?”

  “Well, I don’t think so.” He looked down at the floor, remembering the way she had pleaded with him. She was desperate; that was clear. And she had called his bluff and taken legal action before.

  Bert’s face reflected his grave concern as he studied Wes. “Wes, I know that marrying her must seem ludicrous to you. But if you say no, maybe you ought to do it gently. Don’t make her mad.”

  “Bert, you sound like you’re afraid of her.”

  “I’m afraid of the power she might have,” Bert said. “Wes, if she does happen to take you back to court, chances are, you could lose Amy once and for all. I’d tread real lightly around Laney Fields if I were you.”

  Days later, as he waited for the time to pick Amy up from Laney’s, at which time he would tell her that she was about to lose the home where all her mother’s memories still lived, Wes sat on his bed, leaning back against the headboard.

  Not for the first time since Laney suggested it, he wondered if marrying her could really be an option to keep him from having to break his child’s heart.

  It wasn’t as if Laney were some hag or some terrible influence on his daughter. If he thought about it rationally, he might even see it as a blessing. It might even be what Patrice would have wanted.

  After all, he had neither the time, money, nor inclination for single’s bars or health clubs, and his church had very few single women. Where else did a single man go to meet women to find companionship? If he’d ordered her specifically, he couldn’t have been offered a better blend of what he needed. Not just any mother for Amy. Her real mother. Not just any woman for himself. A woman he’d already found himself attracted to.

  But what of love? And what of those bonds that had made his marriage with Patrice work? What of having things in common, things to share, things that made them enjoy each other’s company?

  He didn’t know about any of those things with Laney because he’d never had the chance to find out. Theirs had been a relationship of enmity from the first day he’d laid eyes on her. And it hadn’t gotten any better.

  He opened his eyes and looked at the portrait of Patrice on his bedside table. Another wife, he thought, to fill the empty slot where only she had the right to be. He took the picture, frowning as he caressed the frame.

  Swallowing the pain gathering in his throat, he pulled open the drawer and slipped the picture in. His breath grew thin, his heart constricted, and he stared at the open drawer. Closing it was a Herculean task he wasn’t prepared for.

  He lifted the photograph back out of the drawer and returned it to the table. “I still can’t do it,” he whispered brokenly. “I just can’t.” He rubbed his face wearily and lay down on the bed, staring at the serenely smiling woman in the photo. “I can’t replace you.”

  His eyes misted, and he moved his blurred focus to the ceiling, searching for an answer. But no matter how he had searched over the past year, he couldn’t escape the cold, dark loneliness that bordered on the unbearable, topped with scattered memories that he wanted desperately not to fade.

  And how much more unbearable would that loneliness be with a woman he didn’t love sharing his home and his daughter?

  He pulled off the bed and went to Amy’s room. Sitting on her bed, he picked up her small teddy bear and hugged it against his chest. She was so young, and she needed a mother. He still wasn’t sure why God had allowed her to end up without one. Maybe this was God’s way of working things out, he thought. Maybe he had sent Laney to them.

  And maybe not.

  He closed his eyes and tried to pray—for wisdom and discernment and the strength to follow God’s will. But the prayer didn’t come easily, and he recalled the days after Patrice’s death when he had been so steeped in his own pain that he couldn’t pray at all. He had relied then on the prayers of those who loved him and on God’s faithfulness to carry him when he wasn’t able to walk.

  Maybe this was one of those times. Still, he knelt beside her bed and tried.

  But as he did, his daughter’s needs became the most important in his mind. Amy needed a mother, but she also needed stability. Laney was offering the chance to be a mother to her without disrupting her life. What difference did it make, really, if he felt bad about it? What difference did it make if it made him happy or not?

  His daughter had lost her mother, and now she was losing her home. He was losing his income, and the security he had wanted so much to provide Amy was a thing of the past.

  Laney had offered him the chance to change all that.

  “Wes, if she does happen to take you back to court, chances are, you could lose Amy once and for all.”

  Bert was right. The threat was there, whether she had uttered it or not. She could convince herself that she was doing the best thing for Amy and remove Wes completely from his child’s life. He’d be like a divorced father with alternate weekend visitation. It was something that he couldn’t stand the thought of.

  On the other hand, if he took her offer, he could keep Amy in her own home, his business wouldn’t go under, and Laney, who had joint custody already anyway, would be able to mother Amy without taking her from him.

  He dropped his head on the side of the bed and cried out to God to give him wisdom, but it seemed that his mind and heart were too full to allow room for the Holy Spirit. Defeated and hopeless, he found himself making a decision he had never believed he would make, but the only one he could justify. It was the least harmful decision for Amy. It was the safest one for them all.

  Wondering if he was finally crossing the threshold of insanity, he got up, found his keys, and headed over to Laney’s.

  Chapter Ten

  When Wes told Laney that he would agree to marry her, she seemed calm and a little sad. He wasn’t sure why, but he decided not to dwell on it. There was no sense in waiting, he told her—since he feared changing his mind—and they applied for their marriage license and had their blood tests.

  Caught in a whirlwind of numbness, he went by his church alone that afternoon to schedule a wedding date with his pastor. Brother Alan Caldwell, the middle-aged pastor whom Wes believed to be one of the wisest men he’d ever known, also proved to be a little too perceptive.

  “This is a joke, right?” he asked when Wes had given him the news. “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “No joke, Alan. It’s for real.”

  The pastor lean
ed forward on his desk as a slow frown killed his smile. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

  Wes shifted in his seat. “We haven’t been seeing each other for long.”

  “Well, what’s her name? Where did you meet her?”

  Wes hesitated. “Her name is Laney Fields.”

  Alan’s face seemed to pale suddenly. “Amy’s real mother? The woman who took you to court for custody?”

  “The same,” Wes said. “Our relationship has … changed.”

  Alan studied his face, and Wes felt as if every lie in his heart sat exposed and ready for dissection. “Wes, you’re not doing this out of some noble sacrifice for Amy, are you?”

  “Of course not. You saw her in court … well, she’s beautiful. There’s a slight age difference … I’m eight years older … but she’s had a tough life, and she’s a lot older inside. And she loves Amy more than anyone else ever could …”

  “She’s definitely beautiful, no question. But she was merciless …”

  “It wasn’t her,” he defended. “It was her attorney. He was the barracuda.”

  “Still …” Alan got up and paced back and forth a moment, a troubled look distorting his face. “That’s only been a couple weeks. Wes, you can’t expect me to believe that—”

  “I do expect you to believe it,” Wes cut in impatiently. “Alan, I’ve been in this church for years, and I feel closer to you than almost anyone in my life. Ever since Patrice died, you’ve been asking me if you can do anything for me. Well, here I am with something you can do. Perform my marriage ceremony. You do it all the time for people you hardly know. I’m asking you now to do it for me.”

  Alan propped his foot on his chair and leaned into his knee, his brow wrinkled as he gazed down at his old friend. “But, Wes, are you sure about this? You grieved so hard over Patrice. Sometimes that grief can make us so lonely that we get … well … desperate to fit someone into the empty slot. And it’s only natural that Laney might seem like the right candidate, since she’s a factor in yours and Amy’s life anyway.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. It’s the right thing to do, Alan. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  Alan stroked his chin but didn’t release Wes from his thoughtful scrutiny. “Have you given it any prayer, Wes?”

  Wes couldn’t hold his gaze now, so he looked down at the clammy hands he held clasped in his lap. “Yes,” he lied.

  As if Alan recognized the falsehood, he came around his desk and sat down next to Wes.

  “Level with me, Wes, or I can’t perform this ceremony. Is she pregnant?”

  Wes laughed then, taking Alan by surprise. The absurdity of the question was more than he could stand. “No,” he said when he was able. “She’s not pregnant.”

  Alan didn’t see the humor and kept his concerned eyes on him until his laughter played out. “You know, usually when someone comes to tell me they’re getting married, they come together. I wish you had brought her. I’d like to meet her. She’s never even been to church with you.”

  This was tougher for Wes to evade, so he shifted again and struggled for something that would satisfy Alan. “She’ll start coming with me as soon as we’re married. And she’s not here today because she has so much to do. We want to do it this Thursday. That’s when the waiting period will be up.”

  “But there are so many people who would love to celebrate with you. Don’t you want to take more time, plan something bigger, something where you can invite your friends?”

  Wes was beginning to get irritated. “No, Alan. We want to do it now.”

  “And how does Amy feel about it?”

  “We’re telling her tonight. But it’s going to be terrific for her. I can promise you that.” His eyes settled on his pastor and with sincerity, he said, “I want you to marry us, Alan, but I’m going through with this whether you do or not.”

  “Just tell me why you’re in such a hurry.”

  “Because I’m ready to get on with my life. And I’m ready to restore some normalcy to my family. Amy needs that.”

  “Maybe she does, Wes, but that’s not a good enough reason to marry someone. Do you love her?”

  Wes met his eyes and felt the hypocrisy and deceit in his heart rising to smother him. “When you meet her, you won’t have any questions about this. You’ll see immediately why I want to marry her.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Alan said. “Do you love her?”

  Wes couldn’t escape those eyes any longer, and for the first time, he wished that Alan wasn’t so wise. “I love her as much as I can love anyone after Patrice.”

  He fully expected for Alan to back out and say that wasn’t good enough, but instead, the man sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll have to accept that, if you can. But I do have one more question. Is she a believer?”

  This one was tougher for Wes, and he shifted again and found something on Alan’s desk to fix his eyes on. “She said she would try to accept our faith.”

  He glanced back at Alan and saw the hope draining out of his face. “She’s not, then.”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Wes said. “You’re thinking that we’re unequally yoked. That I’m going against God. But I’m not. I really think God is the one who set this up.”

  “God doesn’t work this way, Wes,” Alan said. “If it really was God, he’d give you time to get to know her. Time to fall in love. Time to make sure that you aren’t unequally yoked.”

  “So what are you saying?” Wes asked. “That you won’t perform this ceremony? Even though I’ve told you that I’m going ahead with or without you?”

  For a moment, he thought Alan was going to tell him that was exactly the decision he’d made, that it was obvious that God wasn’t in this, that if Wes went through with this, he was on his own.

  Instead, Alan rubbed his face with his hand and with grieving eyes, looked at his friend. “If I can’t talk you into waiting …” He took a deep breath. Getting up, he went back to his chair behind his desk, plopped into it, and looked down at his Bible lying open on his desk. “It’s not always easy being a shepherd, you know.”

  Wes didn’t answer. He knew where this was going.

  “In seminary, they teach you all the right things to do, and all the things not to do. But somehow that gray area always gets left out.” He brought his eyes back to Wes’s. “If you were the pastor and I was sitting in this chair, telling you that I was marrying an unbeliever whom I didn’t even really love, what would you do?”

  Wes leaned forward then and set his elbows on his knees. Dropping his head down, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Alan. I guess that’s why I’m not the pastor. All I know is that this is the best thing for Amy. And that’s the only thing that matters to me right now. But if you can’t do it, we can always go to the justice of the peace.” He got to his feet and slowly started for the door.

  But Alan followed him and stopped him before he could reach it. “I’m going to have to trust that you and God have come to terms on this, Wes. And if you’re getting married, I don’t want it to be by some stranger who doesn’t even bring God into it. I’ll do the ceremony.”

  Wes looked up at him, his eyes misty. “Thank you.”

  “Now sit down, and let’s have a look at the calendar.”

  Slowly, Wes sat back down, and Alan reached for his calendar. “Now, I assume you want to do this in the sanctuary?”

  Wes stiffened. “No, not in the church.”

  Again, those eyes searched him. “Why not?”

  “Because. She wants to do it in her backyard.” The thought made his heart sink even as he spoke, for he believed in church weddings, but he wouldn’t mock God by standing in his house and making a false pledge of everlasting love.

  “All right,” Alan said, marking that on the calendar. “We can do it wherever you like.”

  Wes got up to leave, but Alan stopped him before he reached the door. “I’m gonna be praying for you, buddy.”

 
Wes couldn’t turn back to look at him. Gazing down at the doorknob in his hand, he said, “Thanks, Alan. I appreciate it.”

  That night, as nervous as kids about to break a heartbreaking secret to their parents, Wes and Laney told Amy.

  “But why?” the child asked as she clutched her teddy bear to her chest—a security toy Wes said she had given up years ago but had found need for again just after her mother’s death. “You don’t even like each other.”

  “Yes, we do,” Wes argued. “What makes you think we don’t?”

  Amy gave a dry laugh that made her seem much older than her years. “Because you yell at each other when you think I can’t hear. And you give each other mean looks.”

  Wes glanced at Laney, then down at the floor. “Your mother and I used to fight sometimes, didn’t we?” he asked quietly.

  Amy shrugged.

  “And when we were mad we gave each other mean looks, didn’t we? But we still loved each other.”

  “But you and Laney never kiss.”

  Their eyes met, then flitted apart.

  “Yes, we do,” Wes said after a moment. “Just not in front of you.” “Why?”

  “Because that’s private.”

  “You and Mommy kissed in front of me.”

  Wes leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his head. He had already reached a dead end with Amy, and Laney could see that he lacked the strength to manufacture more lies.

  Laney set her hand on his tense shoulder, a gesture meant to comfort all of them. “We will,” she lied, “when we’re more comfortable with each other. It’s just that we thought you wouldn’t like it if you saw.”

  Amy lifted her chin and leveled her eyes on Laney, her directness infinitely less intimidating than the silence she had given her before. “Why do you want to marry my daddy?” she asked perceptively.

  Laney thought for a moment. Could she tell her that she wanted to be with her? That it was the only way they could all have what they needed? No, that would put too much pressure on Amy. And it seemed important for her to think this would be a real marriage. Could she admit the warm attraction she felt for Wes, despite his obvious resentment of her? Laney forced a shaky smile and found the only answer Amy would buy. “Because he’s handsome and kind and someone I like to be around.”