A Time to Dance

  He grinned. “A pregnancy test.”

  Seven

  THE INFORMATION WAS ALL THERE, ON THE INTERNET.

  Whatever research Abby had done for her article could easily be supplemented with information from the Web. She signed on and waited for the connection. She’d been so busy catching up from the weekend with Kade that she hadn’t had time to work on her coaching article until late that evening. Last night she might have had a few hours, but John needed the computer. He had to look up some new Internet site that gave coach’s tips and defensive tricks. John had heard about it from one of the other coaches.

  Abby hadn’t minded. She had plenty of time to pull the article together.

  The screen danced to life and a digital voice announced, “You’ve got mail.”

  For the briefest instant she remembered how badly she’d looked forward to those words a year ago. Back when she and John were speeding in opposite directions, headed straight for divorce. She’d been E-mailing an editor almost daily, a man who wanted to spend time with her.

  If she hadn’t found John’s journal after Nicole’s wedding, hadn’t read it and learned the real way he felt about their marriage and the mistakes he’d made, she might never have forgiven him. In fact right now she might be in the midst of a full-blown relationship with the editor.

  The thought turned Abby’s stomach. She let it pass as quickly as it had come. These days her E-mail was almost all business related. She was working with several new magazines and keeping her relationships with editors at a strictly functional level. Occasionally there’d be an E-mail from a friend or a forward from one of the women at church.

  But that was about it.

  And even though John was spending more time on the computer, he never got E-mail. He merely surfed the Web for football strategies and plays he hadn’t thought of before. Once in a while he’d check out a site with ranch property for sale and report to Abby that they should buy a hundred-acre piece in northern Montana. But he was only kidding, only looking for a way to ease the tension brought on by the football season.

  Abby clicked the mailbox and immediately a list of mail appeared. There was more than usual, and it took a moment for her to scan the list. Something from a new magazine, three from her current editors, then . . .

  Her heart stopped.

  The next E-mail on the list had a subject line that read, “More excitement than you can imagine!” It was from someone named Candy at a Web site called Sexyfun.

  Abby’s heart thudded hard and resumed beating, twice as fast as before. Her eyes did a quick check down the rest of the list and there were five more E-mails like it. All from girls at Web sites with similar names as the first.

  Her mind screamed it wasn’t so. It couldn’t be. Everywhere she turned someone was talking about Internet pornography. She and John had talked about the phenomenon, but neither of them had really understood the fascination. There was no way John had been accessing pornographic sites, was there? He’d been on the Internet, yes. But only to look at coaching sites, right?

  There was one way to find out.

  Abby maneuvered her mouse through a series of clicks until a list of Web sites appeared on her screen. The last fifty sites that had been accessed by their computer. The most recent were three that were clearly football related. But beyond that the list was horrendous.

  Names of Web sites Abby could barely read let alone utter out loud. She closed her eyes. God, no . . . don’t let this be happening. Please. After all she and John had been through, as much as he seemed to be in love with her . . . he couldn’t be turning to pornography. It was impossible.

  Yet, what other explanation was there? They were the only two people who used the Internet on this computer, other than Sean. And he only used it for homework. Abby thought back. It had been at least a month since Sean had been anywhere near the computer.

  So that meant . . .

  “No, God! I can’t take it.” She covered her face with her hands. Dealing with her husband’s fascination with another woman had been one thing. But this?

  You pulled us through that time, God . . . so why this? Why now?

  She waited, but there were no reassuring utterances in her soul, no verses that came to mind. Only an awful empty pit in her stomach, a pit that grew larger with each passing moment.

  She opened her eyes and looked at the list. Maybe they weren’t porn sites. Maybe they were coaching sites with stupid names. Yes, that had to be it. A thin veil of perspiration broke out across Abby’s nose and forehead. She felt faint, desperate, terrified. Her heart couldn’t take the shock, couldn’t believe the list of Web site names staring back at her.

  There was only one way to find out.

  She picked the first one, something about naked girls, and clicked the link. Let it be coaching information . . . defensive plays . . . anything but— A picture began to take shape and Abby gasped. Immediately she found the X in the upper right corner and closed the window. It wasn’t coaching plays; it was exactly what one would expect to see on a Web site with that name.

  Pornography.

  Somehow in the midst of his distress and discouragement, John had used his late-night hours on the Internet to click his way into a seedy underworld of sin. Anger bubbled up from Abby’s gut and filled her with a burning rage. How dare he . . .

  She shut down the computer and spun her computer chair toward the dark window. The moon was only a sliver that night, but Abby stared outside anyway. What was he thinking? They’d been doing so well, enjoying each other both as friends and lovers. How could he—

  Then another thought hit her.

  Maybe that’s why he had enjoyed their physical love so much lately . . . maybe he wasn’t thinking about Abby at all, but these . . . these . . .

  Nausea welled within her and she wondered if she would be sick to her stomach. How dare he sleep upstairs like nothing was wrong, when all the while he was keeping this terrible secret from her? And how could her body, her love ever compare with the images on his computer screen? The array of emotions assaulting her was almost too much to bear. Sorrow . . . fury . . . regret. She’d trusted him, after all. Believed him that he wanted to be like the eagle—strong by her side until death parted them. Why in the world, then, would he begin experimenting with pornographic Web sites? Especially when he knew from friends of theirs how addictive and destructive they could be?

  For more than an hour Abby sat there, her stomach in knots, until finally she went upstairs and studied her husband. Last year she’d had no trouble knowing John was interested in another woman. His distance, the hours he was gone from home, the strange phone calls. The signs had all been there. But this . . . this pornographic thing? He’d been masterful at hiding this. Abby blinked in the dark, sickened by the innocence on his face.

  She lay down on the far edge of their bed, turned her back to him, and fell asleep. But not before two simple thoughts filled her mind . . .

  How could they possibly stay together now?

  And most of all, why hadn’t she been enough for him?

  The game that Friday was away, and John’s Eagles won with a last-minute field goal. Rumors were spreading about the players who drank and took part in the street races. It was so bad John could almost hear the parents whispering about him.

  “Coach Reynolds isn’t the man we thought he was . . .”

  “We need a man with better moral character than that . . .”

  Of course the real reasons were as obvious as his record. The Eagles had only won three games. A dismal feat considering the hopes everyone had once held for this team. Winning had a way of shutting up the critics. Lose and a coach immediately became fair game.

  The stands were rife with parents who would have run on fourth down or passed the ball on first. People whose sons didn’t play much were the worst. Most of them figured the team would win if only their boys were in the mix. Those whose sons did play had another answer: poor coaching.

  Either way the
bad start this season fell on John’s head.

  As John boarded the team bus back to Marion that night, he felt only a small amount of relief from the victory. Jake Daniels’s head hadn’t been in the game no matter what John tried to do to inspire him. John had seen Jake’s new Integra NSX. The entire school was talking about it.

  Rumor had it Jake was looking to race it as soon as football season was finished.

  John stared out the dirty window of the bus and gritted his teeth. What was Jake’s father thinking, getting the boy a car like that? How was a teenager supposed to focus on his studies and his role as quarterback with a racecar sitting in the parking lot?

  Not only that, but Jake and Casey and a handful of players had stepped up their teasing against Nathan Pike and his gothic friends. John had told the administration about Nathan’s awful, scribbled words—death to jocks. Apparently the principal had pulled Nathan into the office and questioned him. Nathan acted calm and casual.

  “It’s a song, man.” He shook his head at the principal. “You people are so out of touch.”

  The principal could do nothing but believe Nathan and issue him a warning. Song or not, he wasn’t to be writing death threats on his notebook. Nathan agreed, and the incident passed. At least as far as the administration was concerned.

  The reality was something else altogether. Nathan and his dark friends had gotten more hateful, more distant. At the same time, the cruel, arrogant remarks from Jake and Casey and the others had only come with more frequency. At times there was so much tension between the two groups, John felt certain the situation was about to erupt.

  Several times he’d pulled Jake and Casey aside and said something, but always their answer was the same: “We’re just playin’ around, Coach.”

  Their parents didn’t seem to care whether their sons were bullying kids like Nathan Pike. They were too worried about the Eagles win-loss record, too concerned with whispering and rumoring and getting John fired, filling the stands with enough negative energy to kill the rest of the season.

  No wonder Abby hadn’t wanted to go tonight.

  Until this one, she hadn’t missed a game since the season began. John had been in a hurry when he breezed home, grabbed his coaching bag, and headed back out for the game.

  “You’re going, right?” He went to plant a quick kiss on her lips, but at the last second she turned and it landed on her cheek instead. The gesture had seemed odd, but John hadn’t had time to dwell on it. He had a bus to catch.

  “Not tonight.” She’d seemed distracted. In fact, she’d seemed that way since Thursday morning. Not angry, exactly. Just . . . distant.

  The bus ride seemed longer than usual, and John settled back in his seat. What was eating her anyway? He thought for a moment, then it hit him. It must have been her magazine article. Sometimes she got quiet right before deadline on a big piece. The best solution, he’d found, was to let her be. Give her as much time and space as possible to get her work done, then she’d be fine.

  Still, he’d missed her tonight. It was always better coaching from the sidelines knowing Abby was there somewhere behind him in the stands. Everyone else might complain about him, but Abby would have cheered. Especially tonight, since they pulled out a win.

  John stretched. Enough of the negative thoughts. Jake Daniels . . . Nathan Pike . . . the complaining parents. All of it was only part of a passing season. He would pray for the kids and look for opportunities to reach them. But everything about Marion High was something he was learning to leave behind when he finished up for the day.

  Life was too short to bring his troubles home. Especially when things with Abby were so unbelievably wonderful.

  It was nearly eleven when he walked in the house. The lights were out. Abby must have finished writing and gone to bed. John shut the door behind him and took three steps. Then he heard her voice.

  “John . . . I’m in here.”

  He squinted into the dark and flipped on the light in the entryway. “Abby? What are you doing?”

  “Praying.” She paused. “Come here, will you? We need to talk.”

  He wasn’t sure if he should feel honored or concerned. She’d obviously waited up for him to come home, intent on talking to him. But there was nothing light about her tone. He set down his bag and took the chair opposite her. “What’s up?”

  “This.” Moving like an old woman, Abby reached down and picked up a piece of paper from the floor. “I found it a few days ago, but it took me a while to know how to bring it up.”

  Bring it up? What was she talking about? He took the paper, and in the half-light from the foyer, he stared at its contents. In no time he could see what it was, and it turned his stomach.

  “Where’d this come from?” He brought the page closer to his face so he could read it clearly.

  It was a list of pornographic-type sites. One after another after another. Probably twenty of them in all. John glanced up the page and saw their E-mail address listed at the top. Suddenly he understood.

  Abby was here, waiting in the dark, because she’d found this list on their computer Internet log and wanted an explanation.

  The whole time he’d been looking at the list, Abby had said nothing. Now John lifted his eyes to her, his heart racing. “You got this off our computer?”

  “Yes.” Her arms were folded tight against her waist. “You’re the only other person who uses the computer besides me, John.” Her voice broke. “Obviously we need to talk.”

  He wanted to scream at her. Did she honestly think he was visiting porn sites in his spare time? That with everything going on at school and with the team, he could possibly be crazy enough to get involved with Internet smut? When he was married to the only woman he’d ever loved?

  The idea was outrageous.

  “You think I looked up these sites?” He planted his fingertips on his chest.

  “What am I supposed to think?”

  John wadded the paper up and threw it against the wall. Then he stood and paced a few steps in either direction. “Abby, are you out of your mind? I’ve never looked at a pornographic Web site in my life.” His tone was sharper than his words. “How could you think such a thing?”

  “Don’t lie to me, John.” Clearly she was as angry as he, but she stayed in her chair. “You’ve been on the Internet more often than usual and always at night. Why?”

  He stared at her, stunned. “You really doubt me, don’t you? After all we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me.”

  “I did trust you.” She lowered her voice, but her intensity remained. “But I trusted you three years ago, too. Back when you and Charlene were spending every morning together.”

  He felt the blood drain from his face. “That’s not fair, Abby, and you know it.” John bent at the waist, firing his words at her. “We were both wrong back then, but those days are behind us. Remember?”

  “I thought so, too.” The fight left her voice. “Until I found that list.”

  She might as well have slapped his face. Wounded and furious and not sure what to say, John fell back into the chair and buried his head in his hands. “You don’t know me any better than the parents of my players.”

  Abby was silent, and for a moment neither of them said anything.

  There had to be an explanation for the sites. Abby obviously hadn’t looked them up, but neither had he. And how dare she accuse him even after he’d denied having anything to do with them.

  God, give me the words here . . . how can Abby doubt me on this?

  Love is not easily angered . . .

  The holy response flashed across the scoreboard of his mind and took the edge off his temper. His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. Of course Abby didn’t believe him. After the times he’d spent with Charlene . . . the lies he’d told Abby when their marriage was unraveling . . .

  For the first time since their reconciliation, John realized something he hadn’t before.

  It would take years before either of
them would feel completely secure again. No matter how good things were between them. Sin always had consequences. Abby’s doubts about him now were one of those.

  She broke the silence first. “Aren’t you going to say anything? I’ve been carrying this around for two days wondering why I’m not enough for you.” She was crying now. Not angry sobs or out-of-control weeping, but small, soundless cries that strangled his heart.

  John dropped to the ground and crawled on his knees until he was up against her legs. “Abby . . .” His words were calm, quieter than before. He lifted her chin so she’d have to look at him. “I promise you with everything I have, I didn’t do this. I’ve never looked at a porn site. Not ever.”

  She sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. Nothing came from her mouth, but John could see it in her eyes. Doubt . . . fear . . . concern. Thoughts that somehow it was happening again, that their marriage was falling apart.

  God . . . please give me wisdom. There has to be an answer.

  Two seconds passed, then a third, and suddenly he knew the answer. The realization brought him as much pain as it did relief. The explanation was bound to satisfy Abby, but it left them with a problem neither of them had anticipated.

  “Did you forget?” Their eyes were still locked. “Kade was here last weekend. He stayed with us through Monday afternoon.”

  It took a moment for the information to register.

  As it did, John could see his wife’s expression shift. Like melting wax, her face softened and her anger fell away. In its place was a sadness and guilt so raw it was painful to look at. Nearly a minute passed before Abby opened her mouth. “Kade?”

  “He was here. I’m not sure if he was on the computer, but he must’ve been. Because—” he met her eyes squarely—“the only thing I looked at were coaching sites. I . . . found three of them.”

  Abby stared into the night, her eyes distant. After a long while, she lifted her gaze back to John’s. “Sunday night he was with Nicole. But Saturday . . . Saturday he was here. He didn’t get to sleep until after one o’clock because I got up and . . .”