01_Gift from the Heart (15 page)

His sun-browned fingers were so strong, yet so gentle, she reflected. Just like the man. She drew a ragged breath. If she harbored any hopes of creating a future with Adam, he deserved to know about her past. Even if he thought ill of her because of the terrible decision she’d made on that fateful day nearly three years ago.

“You talked a lot about them when you were sick,” Adam spoke again. “And I had the feeling that you somehow think you were responsible for their deaths.”

There was a long moment of silence while she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “I was,” she finally whispered.

“Why don’t I believe that?”

She looked over at him, her eyes raw and bleak. “It’s true, Adam. If I hadn’t been so selfish, they’d still be alive.”

“Tell me,” he coaxed again, his own eyes gentle.

So she did, haltingly at first, then more quickly, until finally the words came out in an almost incoherent rush. And in among the cold, hard facts, she wove her feelings of selfishness and guilt and pain and all the reasons why she felt responsible for the tragedy that had cut short the lives of the two people she loved most and changed her life forever.

When she finished she took a deep breath. “I thought I was making progress, that I was learning to let go of the guilt,” she said brokenly. “And then the accident happened with Nicole. She could have been… She could have died, Adam! And it would have been my fault!”

He reached over with his other hand and cocooned hers protectively in his warm clasp. He’d thought a lot about the accident, too. And had come to a completely different conclusion.

“Let me tell you something, Clare. If anyone should feel guilty about recent events, it’s me. Because I think you
saved
her life. And all I did was berate you for it.”

Clare gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand. You were right to be angry. It was my responsibility to take care of Nicole.”

“And that’s exactly what you did.”

She shook her head, as if to clear it. “I’m sorry. I must be missing something.”

“You are. And here it is. After the accident, I spoke with an officer who was at the scene. He told me how fortunate it was that the driver of Nicole’s car was alert and had good reflexes, because she was able to swerve out of the way and avoid a collision. He also said things could have turned out very differently if there’d been a head-on crash. Clare, that’s exactly what might have happened if you’d been driving. You were so sick that your reflexes were sluggish at best. By using good judgment and asking Mrs. Foster to take Nicole, you might have saved her life. And your own.”

Clare stared at him, then closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.
“Thank you, God!”
she whispered.

“I made that same prayer, once rational thought prevailed. And I also prayed that you would forgive me. Because you have every right to hate me for the way I treated you,” Adam told her quietly.

Clare opened her eyes. “I never held it against you, Adam. I’ve been there,” she said fervently. “I know what it’s like to lose people you love. And to be angry at those responsible. Because that’s the same feeling I have against myself, for what happened to Dennis and David.” She paused, and her eyes filled with tears. “Maybe I made the right decision this time. But I didn’t the last time. Because I was too selfish.”

Adam stroked her hand. “May I tell you something, Clare? At worst, you made a mistake. You did something out of character. But it was the type of mistake that would normally have no consequences. We all make those kinds of mistakes every day. That’s just being human. But selfish? Never.”

“That’s what Reverend Nichols said. But I can’t seem to let go of the guilt,” she said with a sigh. “That’s what this trip to Kansas City is all about. I need to deal with it. To try and put it to rest. And to let myself grieve.” She ran her finger down her iced-tea glass, the beads of moisture damp against her finger, like teardrops. “Do you know, until the night I got sick, I had never cried for them?” she said softly. “I couldn’t. I was afraid that I’d break apart if I did. But now I know that there is a time for tears. And a time for mourning. I need to get past the grief and the guilt so my soul can start to heal. Otherwise I’ll never be able to move on. May fourteenth is…is the third anniversary of the accident. That’s why I want to go back then.”

Adam drew a deep breath. “I hate for you to have to deal with this alone.”

She looked at him with quiet confidence. “I won’t be alone, Adam. Thanks to Reverend Nichols, I’ve reconnected with the Lord. He’ll be with me. But I could use your prayers.”

“That goes without saying.” He paused and squeezed her hand. “We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll be back to finish out my assignment.”

For the last three weeks.

The words were unspoken, but they hung in the air between them.

As Adam picked up his fork once more, he mulled over Clare’s decision. She had made it clear that she was trying to tie up the loose ends of her old life so she could move on to a new one. By courageously confronting old demons, she was making a conscious effort to let go of the past so she could embrace the future with hope and peace.

Adam knew how hard that was. And he knew something else, as well.

The ball was now squarely in his court.

Clare stepped out the door of the motel into the blazing sun and almost recoiled from the hot, humid air that hit her in the face. Over the past few months she’d grown accustomed to the cooler climate in the mountains of North Carolina, and the unrelenting heat of Kansas City was a shock to her system. If it was already this bad at only nine-thirty in the morning, she knew it would surely be a sauna later in the day.

Resolutely, Clare straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t going to let a little heat change her plans. Nor a little tiredness. Okay, maybe more than a little tiredness, she conceded. She’d assured Adam that she felt completely up to the trip, but the long drive had taken far more out of her than she wanted to admit. Though she’d tried to sound bright and perky when she’d called him last night to let him know she’d arrived safely, he’d seen through her pretense immediately, quickly discerning the underlying note of weariness in her voice. His own voice had been laced with worry when he’d spoken to her.

“Clare, I want you to get something to eat and go to bed. And promise me you’ll sleep late tomorrow.”

She’d been too tired to argue. “I will, Adam.”

“And don’t push yourself.”

“I won’t.”

His sigh of frustration came clearly over the line. “I wish I was there.”

“I know, but I need to do this alone.”

“You also need to take care of yourself.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here, Adam.”

“I mean physically.”

“I’ll do that, too.”

There was a slight hesitation. “All right. I’ll pray for you, Clare.”

She replayed his promise in her mind as she locked the door of her motel room and headed for her car. She was going to need his prayers, she thought grimly. As well as her own.

Please, Lord, help me get through this. Let me feel Your steady, healing presence throughout this day. Give me the strength to confront the past and put it to rest.

Clare had carefully mapped out her route. Each place represented a significant part of her old life, starting with the house she had shared with Dennis and David.

As she pulled up across the street from the brick Colonial and put the car in Park, she let her gaze trace the contours of the stately home. The basketball hoop Dennis had installed was still visible above the side-entry garage, she noted, and a wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she pictured him unwinding after a long day by shooting baskets and, later, showing David how to play.

As she shifted her attention to the front of the house, she thought about the day Dennis had first brought her to see it, recalling the excitement in his eyes as he showed her around. Though she’d been suitably impressed, she’d found her greatest joy not in the house, but in the happiness it had given him.

She took a moment to replay in her mind the day they’d moved in. Dennis had insisted on carrying her over the threshold, and then they’d eaten a picnic dinner on the floor in the bare dining room while he described what the room would someday look like, promising to fill it with beautiful furnishings. A promise he had proudly kept.

When she looked at the window of the second-floor master bedroom her throat constricted with emotion. That room had been filled with love and laughter and sharing—a sheltered, special place where time stopped and the fears and concerns of the world disappeared.

David’s room wasn’t visible from the street, but she could picture it in her mind. Cluttered, filled with little-boy treasures like rocks, an occasional multilegged creature in a glass jar and shelves of soccer trophies. It had been right next to the master bedroom, and sometimes she and Dennis would stand in the doorway late at night, hand in hand, watching as David slept—and dreaming of the day when other childish voices, other childish treasures would fill the remaining empty bedrooms.

It was a dream that had never come true.

Clare blinked rapidly and swiped a hand across her eyes. She let her gaze once more sweep lovingly over the house and tucked the memory carefully in her heart. Then, with a final lingering glance, she drove away.

Her next stop was Dennis’s office. She’d only gone inside the modern, mostly glass building a couple of times, when she’d met him for lunch. Today she remained in her car, looking at it from across the street, counting the floors until she could pick out the window of his spacious, tenth-floor office, with its commanding view of the city. Clare knew what that space represented to him. Beating the odds. Overcoming his background. Proving that he had the right stuff to succeed in a competitive, high-stakes world. Right or wrong, his success had helped him feel more worthy somehow. It had validated him. As a man of strong faith, Dennis had tried to keep worldly achievements in perspective. But he had still relished his success. Clare had understood that, given the poverty of his youth. And when she’d seen him here, in this world she only shared vicariously, she had been happy for him.

Her next stop was David’s school. She didn’t drive in, but stopped at the entrance gates. Which was where she had typically left him in the morning. He’d gotten to that age where having his mother drive him right to the door wasn’t cool anymore. But she’d always waited while he walked up the curving driveway. And sometimes, as he’d trudged along, his knapsack slung over his back, she’d think ahead, to the day when life would take him much farther from her arms than a simple walk to the school door. She had wondered, back then, how she would cope when that time came, when she had to set him free to test his wings in the world. And she’d always dreaded that day.

She’d give anything now if she still had that to look forward to.

Struggling to contain her tears, she drove to the house where she’d attended the pool party. She hadn’t known the host very well, but the party had been for a good friend of hers from her teaching days and she’d ended up having a wonderful time. The rambling, contemporary home on the corner lot looked exactly the same, she thought, as she slowly pulled to a stop. The pool was clearly visible behind a decorative iron fence, and though they weren’t in use today, the lounge chairs were arranged much as they had been the day of the party. She’d been sitting in one along the far edge of the pool when the hostess had sought her out, portable phone in hand.

Clare had known right away that something was wrong from the expression on the woman’s face. As she’d taken the phone, alarm racing up her spine, her heart had begun to thump heavily in her chest. And as she’d listened to the officer on the other end, who had apparently tracked her down from the pool party number Dennis had scribbled on a scrap of paper and tucked in his pocket in case he needed to reach her, she’d felt as if she’d been sucked into a vacuum, the party sounds fading away, the scene distorting before her eyes.

After that she’d switched to autopilot. She’d thrown a cover-up over her suit, and someone had driven her to the hospital. But it was already too late. Dennis had died at the scene. David had lingered briefly, but by the time she arrived at the hospital he was gone, too. All because she stayed too long at the party.

Clare hadn’t been near a swimming pool since.

And she wasn’t sure she would ever go to one again.

As she struggled to contain her tears, Clare realized that her hands were shaking. It was well past noon, and she knew she should stop and rest. Maybe get some lunch. Adam would insist on it if he were here. But the thought of food made her queasy. And with the most difficult part of her day still ahead, rest wasn’t an option. So she resolutely headed for her next stop.

The church she and Dennis and David had regularly attended was just as she remembered it, Clare noted, as she pulled into the adjacent parking lot. It had been almost a year since she’d set foot inside, and she prayed it would be open.

Luck was on her side. The door was unlocked, and Clare quickly understood why when she entered. There had obviously been a wedding a short time before. White bows still adorned the pews, and beautiful flower arrangements stood on the altar, filling the air with a sweet, fresh fragrance. She slipped into a pew near the back, letting the peace and beauty seep into her soul.

As she looked around the familiar interior, it struck her how many pivotal moments in life were celebrated in this holy place. The moments that mattered the most, if one took the eternal view. People came here to celebrate birth into new life through baptism. They came to celebrate the union of a man and woman in marriage. They came on Christmas to celebrate the birth of Christ—God’s great gift to humanity. And on Easter, to commemorate His glorious resurrection, which forever destroyed the power of death. Finally, they came at the end of an earthly life to mark the transition to eternal life. People came here for so many important events.