The Breaking Point (43 page)

“I couldn’t take it, Gabe.”

He understood immediately “The babies.”

She nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “I know it was the right decision, not having children. I know it would have been a nightmare for us … for them … with what we had to work through. But Gabe…”

Regret crowded into her throat, choking off her words. She’d sworn she wasn’t going to cry. Promised herself she wouldn’t do that to him. But that was a promise she couldn’t keep. So she sat there, helpless with silent sorrow, tears dropping onto their joined hands.

“I’m sorry, Renee.”

She squeezed his hand. It was clear in the fathomless blue of his eyes how deep his regret was, how it tore at his heart, his peace.

“I know.” She brushed at her damp cheeks. “And that’s why it’s so hard for me to tell you about all of this, about how much I still struggle. But Gabe, I want you to understand; I’m not blaming you. I just can’t seem to get past it.”

“How can I help?”

Her heart twisted and the laugh that slipped from her was gruff, ragged as a gasp. “I don’t know. I don’t think you can. I
don’t think anyone can but God. I mean, He’s the one who created me with this longing. And it hurts so much—” she pressed a hand to her breastbone—“in here. Deep inside.”

She floundered at the glimmer of regret in his eyes. Words were so inadequate! How could mere words explain, how could they help him understand without heaping guilt on himself?

Be with
us,
Father …

“It’s a constant ache, a nagging feeling, like a hunger that’s tearing at me, that threatens to consume me if I don’t satisfy it. Everything inside of me screams to have a child, to share that experience with you, to look down into a tiny face and know that we—you and I—are responsible for that. That we’ve invested a part of our bodies, a part of our souls, into this little creation who will one day grow up and do amazing, wonderful things.”

His grip on her hand was so tight that it hurt, and she looked into his face, startled at the tears making a slow journey down his face. She couldn’t help but draw him close and hold him.

His arms encircled her, and they sat there, mute in the face of shared grief. There was really nothing either of them could say to make the hurting go away. They both knew it was their decisions, their choices through a lot of years—a lot of mistakes—that had brought them to this place.

Renee wasn’t sure how long they wept together. She only knew that, however long it was, something happened inside of her. The broken place deep within her, the gaping despair and desperation that had snatched and consumed any measure of hope she’d tried to find, began to ease. In sharing her grief with Gabe—
really
sharing it, without flinging accusations or letting anger mask her grief—she could almost dare to believe that maybe, just maybe, something was being born within her after all. Something she’d begun to believe would never be hers.

Healing like a tiny seed planted within her, it had found a spot to implant and take root, ready at last to draw nourishment and grow. No, God hadn’t given her a child, but He was giving her something she needed even more.

Hope.

Gabe straightened, then slowly leaned back against the couch arm, drawing her with him until she was nestled in the circle of his strong, sheltering embrace.

“Go on.”

In that moment, emotions flooded her heart—affection, appreciation, gratitude—warming places that had been cold for far too long. They swept into the chilled chambers and she could feel the ice pack of resentment beginning to thaw, break apart.

She did as Gabe requested. She shared more—everything swirling around inside of her. She told him about her struggle, her feelings of failure as a woman, how she felt she’d let God down by not being what He created her to be.

And Gabe talked with her, speaking words of compassion, words that brought her a new understanding, a new peace. He told her how God had used her to birth life and hope in him; how He’d used her wonder, her joy and child-likeness, to open his heart and show him what life could be like; how she’d taught him about playing, about enjoying the moment.

Renee not only heard what he was saying, she believed it. She took it all in, letting the truth of God’s hand and work flow through her, fill her, replace the emptiness that had held her for so long.

She spread her fingers out across his chest, loving the solid feel of him, the steady beat of his heart.

It was such a good heart. Despite all the garbage, all the pain, it was a heart determined to care. To love.

“I just wish …”

Gabe looked down at her “You just wish?”

“That you’d had the chance to be a dad. To be for your son the kind of dad you always wanted.”

His mouth softened, and the warmth of his gaze washed over her, telling her more powerfully than words ever could how she’d touched him, moved him. He pulled the comforter over her, tucking it around her with a touch that was pure tenderness.

His fingers caressed her hair. “I wish things were different, hon.” She started to protest, but his hand at her back stilled her. “But I wouldn’t give up even a day of our time together. Not even the hard ones. God has used it all to make us stronger, better, individually and together. And I like who we’re becoming.”

She did, too.

He stroked her cheek. “For now, I guess we’ll just have to nurture and care for each other … and leave the rest to God. We can’t worry about the future. We just need to be where we are, the way we are, and let God keep working in us.” He smiled. “Who knows what He has in store for us?”

Renee nodded.
Who knows, indeed?
The thought held a surprising measure of hope.

The next morning dawned fresh and new. Renee stretched her body to wakefulness, feeling lighter than she’d felt in a very long time.

God was at work. She was as sure of that as she was of the coming sunset. She found herself humming throughout the day, and on her way home from work that evening she made a stop at the grocery store. Steak. Potatoes. Corn. She smiled as she envisioned Gabe’s face when he got home and found his favorite meal waiting.

She had just finished setting the table when she heard his truck pull into the driveway. She lit the tall candles she’d set in place and went to check the steaks on the grill.

“Renee, I’m home.”

She turned to greet him and stopped when she found him peeking at her from behind the front door. “Close your eyes.”
What on earth?
“Why?”

He looked like a little kid bursting to tell a secret. “Just close your eyes.”

With a laugh, she did as he commanded. “Now, hold out your hands.”

“Gabe …”

He nudged her at the playful warning in her tone. “Come on, trust me. You’re gonna love this.”

She lifted her hands and held them out. Something small and soft was set in them … something that wriggled and licked at her hands—

Renee’s eyes snapped open, and she stared in stunned delight. “A puppy!”

Gabe was grinning like a Chihuahua with a Great Dane-sized bone. “A Siberian husky puppy, to be exact.”

Renee cradled the wriggling body close, burying her fingers in the silky, cinnamon-colored coat. The puppy grinned up at her, tongue lolling, and she saw he had one brown eye, one blue.

A Siberian. She’d always wanted a Siberian.

Gabe came to put his arms around both of them. “I know a puppy is no substitute for a baby.” He scratched the little guy behind one velvety ear. “But he’s someone we can care for—” his gaze caught Renee’s—“and fall in love with together.”

Renee hugged him, and the puppy, trapped between them as it was, gave a shrill yip of protest. She and Gabe laughed, and as he went to get the supplies he’d bought out of his truck, Renee sat on the carpeted floor, playing with the puppy, laughing at his unsteady gait and unbridled excitement.

A Siberian husky. She’d already researched names for such a dog. She looked at the little guy and knew the perfect one. Bohdan. A solid Russian name for a Russian breed. And a name with the perfect meaning:
God’s gift.

She tried it out. “What do you think, Bohdan? Does that work for you?”

The puppy tripped over himself trying to lick her face, and she laughed, gathering him close.

“Bohdan it is, then. Our own personal gift from God.”

Like renewed hope
, Renee thought, watching Gabe as he came through the door, arms laden with doggie supplies. They weren’t through the storm … not entirely. But at least she knew they were in the same boat, working together to endure, to survive.

And that was a good start.

D
ECEMBER
20, 2003

3:50
P.M.

GABE HADN’T COME AFTER HER.

When she’d walked away from him, Renee thought for sure he would come after her. And when he didn’t, she realized how much she wanted him to.

She
wanted
Gabe. Here. With her.

She longed to feel his hands on hers, to hear his deep voice as he talked with her, helped her sort through the jumble of emotions. To lean into him, trade her weariness for his solid strength.

She wanted Gabe.

Renee let the realization roll around in her head, her heart. She clasped her hands together and stared at them, wondering as the truth dawned … grew.

She’d fallen in love with her husband.

Not the little-girl dream of falling in love, where he was perfect and they were always happy. But a deep, abiding yearning that made her ache when they weren’t together.

It was a realization that left her reeling.

Gabe was a part of her. Now and forever. She could walk away from him, divorce him, try to pretend he’d never existed, even move into another relationship—but nothing would change the fact that he owned a part of her heart. He was there, a constant thread in the fabric of who she was. And he always would be.

She gave a small laugh.
What ever made me think I could walk away from that?
She wanted to know what held her back, and it couldn’t have been clearer: pride. That and fear. And a lack of trust in the One she was so quick to say she followed.

Shame came then, quick and heated, and Renee bowed her head beneath the onslaught.

She’d made herself Gabe’s jury, judge, and executioner. She closed her mind and heart to truth and turned instead to embrace bitterness. She’d taken destruction to her breast and nurtured it, fed it, tended it like the babe she’d never been allowed to bear.

And in doing that, she birthed her own ruin.

She had. Not Gabe. Not God. Not even Gabe’s father or the liquor that had enslaved him. Only one person was responsible for where she’d ended up, who she’d become—Renee herself.

She’d thrown wide the door of her heart to self-pity and welcomed in the enemy of her soul. Now, looking back with eyes wide open, Renee saw the truth … and trembled. She saw how she’d let pride usurp faith; how she’d taken on self-righteousness in place of kindness; how she’d clutched her rights and placed them not on the altar of surrender, but squarely on the throne of her heart.

Scene after scene from her life with Gabe played through her mind, and she covered her eyes. But that didn’t stop the
terrible replay of events. She watched as her young self made Gabe, not God, the center of her life. Saw how that burden finally wore him down, until he struck out, leaving her heart shredded, torn … saw how she turned her back on healing and reconciliation, choosing instead to turn cold, to continue in the marriage on the surface even as she shut Gabe out of her heart.
O Lord …

She understood now. Walking away would have been a mercy compared to her emotional abandonment of her husband. She had taken what she knew of Gabe’s fondest dreams and deepest fears and used them to beat him down.