A Vow to Cherish (22 page)

J
ohn came in from the backyard to fix himself a glass of tea. It was July, and the air conditioning was on in the house, so he closed the door on the laughter behind him. The quiet of the empty house enveloped him, and he found himself reflective in the sudden silence.

He filled a tall glass with ice from the freezer and poured tea from a huge Mason jar that sat in a pool of sunshine on the floor in the conservatory. John smiled as he thought of his wife’s insistence that her tea be brewed in the sun. The jar had sat in this spot all summer long—filled some days with raspberry tea, others with lemon—until a ring had formed on the dark oak floor. Once, the stain might have bothered him, marring the otherwise flawless wood. But now it was one of the things that marked this house as theirs, his and hers—the woman he loved. What joy she had brought back to this house on Oaklawn!

There were long months of bitter loneliness after Ellen’s death—and yes, bitter years before that. Moments when John wasn’t sure he could go on another day. When he sought God and felt utterly forsaken. When he screamed “Why?” to the heavens, but they were bereft of an answer, only echoing back his own tormented cries:
Why? Why? Why?

In the years after he’d said goodbye to Julia, he had seen her a few times from a distance. But he made no attempt to contact her. It still sickened him when he thought how dangerously close he had come to pulling her into his trespass. In truth, though he knew he’d been forgiven, a trace of guilt still lingered for the sin that had almost entrapped him. Strange that temptation could be disguised in a package filled with such warmth and beauty.

And, too, the new purity of his love for Julia—a chaste love—had kept him from barging back into her life. He wanted in no way to be a source of confusion or a stumbling block to her as she made a new life for herself apart from him.

He had heard through the school grapevine that “Sam and Andy’s mom” was dating the city administrator. It still hurt him to think of her happy with someone else. He had to keep reminding himself that Julia was a closed chapter in his life. He could not allow himself to think of reopening the wounds that his sin had inflicted on her—on both of them, really. He had overstepped sacred boundaries, and in doing so, he felt he’d lost the right to ever again be a source of happiness to Julia.

Through the years, his own wounds had healed over. But scars remained—deep scars that would always be a reminder of his mistakes. He considered himself whole, though, and forgiven; and on another level—a more selfless, honorable plane—he was glad for the news about Julia. He hoped she was finding happiness in her life.

Then, out of the ashes of his grief, when he least expected it, Julia came back into his life. A gift. He smiled at the memory.

He had been at the library, where he could escape the deafening silence of his house for a different sort of quiet. He was browsing the shelves of biographies, and suddenly she stood beside him.

“John. I thought it was you,” she’d whispered.

“Julia.” He’d barely been able to speak. He had forgotten how beautiful her voice was. He’d not heard that lovely voice for almost five years. Even in a whisper, it stirred him as it always had.

Boldly, he asked if she could go for coffee with him. Was she free? The meaning in his question clear.

They ordered cappuccino in a small café across the street from the library. The restaurant was empty, and as they lingered over warm cups, the years fell away.

“I’m so sorry about Ellen, John. I heard…”

“It seems such a long time ago, Julia. Over a year now, but of course, it was a long time coming. I’m sure you won’t judge me if I say it was a blessing.”

She nodded slowly. “No. Of course…I understand. Are you doing okay?”

“I’ve been lonely. But I’m all right.” He’d forgotten how honest he could be with her; how comfortable she made him feel. “What about you?”

“Things are good. Different though,” she sighed. “Time is going by way too fast. The boys are both in college now.”

John shook his head and blew out a breath. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“It was hard to send my baby off to school. I thought it was just something people said to make conversation—but kids really do grow up before you know it. I don’t know where the time has gone.” She shook her head, looking bewildered. Then she brightened. “How are your kids, John?”

“Good. Mark and Jana gave me my first grandchild two months ago.” He smiled broadly, elated to be sharing this news with her. “She’s the world’s cutest baby, if I do say so myself.”

Julia laughed, soft and low. “Oh, John. That’s wonderful! Well, congratulations, Grandpa.”

Her laughter brought the memories tumbling back into his mind. How he had missed her. She was as beautiful as ever—a few more lines creasing her forehead, a few strands of grey in her short dark hair. But as John watched her face, she became familiar to his eyes again, familiar to his heart—evoking the things that had made him cherish her so.

“I heard you might be getting married?” It was a bold question, asked tentatively. But John had to be certain of their freedom this time.

Julia smiled and shook her head. Her voice was teasing. “Boy, there are no secrets in a small town, are there?” But she quickly turned serious. “No, John. I was dating—” she rolled her eyes “—oh, how I hate that word. Anyway, I was dating Jim Vincent for, well, for quite a while. I guess the rumors got out. He did ask me to marry him, but we’re not seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” John couldn’t tell if sympathy was in order.

She shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. It was my decision. Jim is a wonderful man—salt of the earth. But…well, I wasn’t in love—” she paused almost imperceptibly “—with him.”

She dropped her head, obviously embarrassed by the implication of the pause. “It…it didn’t seem fair to Jim. I’m afraid I made him wait far too long for an answer.”

She looked up at him. A sadness had crept into her eyes, and John guessed that it had grieved her to hurt Jim by refusing his proposal and breaking off their relationship.

Impulsively, he reached across the table and put his hand over hers. A gesture of warmth, nothing more. But his voice was thick with emotion. “It’s great to see you, Julia.”

She smiled up at him, joy written on her face.

They talked late into the night, sharing the trials of the years gone by and the joys of the present. And as they spoke, he realized that the love they had once felt for each other had been rekindled—purified now in the fires of obedience and forgiveness.

When he drove her home, and they stood on the porch at her front door, he took her in his arms and pulled her to himself. And he knew it was right now.

With a full heart, he kissed her over and over. Gently on the forehead, the chin then more urgently on the lips. They stood together and wept in each other’s arms, not needing to explain their tears. Each knowing they were shed for all the sadness gone before—and for all the joy yet to come.

The gift of liberty was now theirs for the taking. The seed of friendship, the kernel of passion that had been denied before, now unfolded and blossomed into a thing of beauty. At last they were free to declare their love, to celebrate their passion for each other.

They’d married in the spring. The ceremony was in the big backyard on Oaklawn with all their children gathered around them. And now Julia graced this home with her joyful spirit. He had known immeasurable blessings these past months.

John replaced the lid on the jar of tea and started back through the kitchen. He glanced out the tall window that looked out over the backyard. The lacy filigree of the curtains diffused the light, giving a surreal, dreamlike quality to the scene beyond. Spellbound, he gazed at the tableau before him.

Mark and Jana stood arm in arm at the edge of the lawn. Brant and a very pregnant Cynthia, and Kyle and Lisa, Kyle’s bride of two weeks, were sprawled comfortably on the grass. Beside them, Sam and Andy—young men now—smiled as they watched their mother.

Julia stood in the middle of the lawn, barefoot and radiant in a pink summer dress. A squealing, sun-browned toddler romped at her feet as the lawn sprinkler sent a spray of glittering water high into the air above them. The icy droplets hit their target and fresh peals of happy laughter floated on the summer air into the kitchen where John stood.

Mark and Jana’s little Ellen Marie was a tiny ray of hope, a budding promise of this family’s blessing for the future. She had Ellen’s auburn curls and blue-gray eyes. And when she smiled, John saw a reflection of Ellen’s beautiful face. Such a sweet memorial to her namesake.

Everything that was precious to him was embodied in the scene before him. His family was bound together with an everlasting cord of love and commitment and faith.

An array of emotions flooded him—hope, joy, the most transcendent peace he had ever known. His throat swelled, and he sent a prayer of profound gratitude heavenward.

John opened the door and stepped out into the yard. Across the wide expanse of grass came the joyful cries of a curly-haired little girl. She ran toward him on pudgy legs, her silvery voice calling, “Grandpa! Grandpa!”