He looked down at me, brushing a stray curl from my face as his dark eyes streamed pure love. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Me either,” I said bravely as I stepped into my car. “We’ll talk about it later.”
And we did, after the very next choir rehearsal as we sat in his dark car hidden in a wooded area near the church. “We shouldn’t have kissed,” I said.
“I agree.”
I looked into his moonlit face. “Then, it’s over, right?”
Instead of answering me, his eyes glistened.
“Clark, what’s wrong?”
He hung his head, ready to confess what I already knew. “I think I’m in love with you.”
I closed my eyes against the pain of his admission and leaned my shoulder against his. In that moment, he reached to cup my face in his hands and his lips found mine once more. There was no stopping what happened next.
After that first night we began to frequent a quiet motel across town after every choir rehearsal.
I knew what we were doing was wrong. But I didn’t want to stop. Living a lie was complicated, and lies of the heart, I discovered, are difficult to hide from both yourself and the others in your life. Not only did I have to deal with the guilt of betraying my marriage vows, I had to deal with Clark’s growing sense of entitlement.
In forbidden moments, he’d whisper into my ear, “You belong to me, Lisa Leann.”
“If only that were true,” I’d say, brushing my fingers through his dark curls.
He would hug me tighter. “But you do. You may not share my name, but you’re mine just the same.”
I guess I really didn’t understand what he meant until, out of overwhelming feelings of guilt, I tried to cool things down. Finally, one evening after choir rehearsal was over, he gruffly pulled me into an empty Sunday school classroom and closed the door.
He didn’t bother to hide his agitation. “Why won’t you meet me at the motel tonight? It’s been weeks.”
“Don’t you ever feel guilty?”
“For what?”
I felt my cheeks burn. “For what we’ve done.”
He reached for me, but I stepped away.
“Lisa Leann, you’re mine. You know that.”
I walked to the front of the room and looked back at him. “But we’re not married to each other. You’re married to Jane, I’m married to Henry.”
“What are you saying?”
“You, Clark, despite my feelings for you, you’re not my husband.”
“But you know all the reasons we can’t change that.”
I hung my head. “Clark, what we’re doing is wrong.”
He took a step toward me. “Don’t you think God wants us to be happy?”
I looked up and into his handsome eyes and felt such a longing to run into his arms and to taste that happiness, if only for a fleeting moment. But I resisted and hugged my arms across my flat belly. “Well, Clark, when Jesus said to love your neighbor, I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”
Clark shook his head. “Lisa Leann, I don’t get it. After a year and a half you suddenly grow a conscience?”
I turned my back on him to walk behind the pine lectern. I turned around and leaned on it. “Come on, we both know the Ten Commandments say ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ Don’t you feel the guilt of our relationship? I do, and sometimes it’s so overwhelming I can hardly breathe. And when Henry looks at me, it’s like he
knows.”
I shuddered. “The thought of discovery makes my heart literally stop beating.”
Clark held up his hands and shrugged. “We can’t help that we’re married to the wrong people. But we’re not hurting anyone.”
“Really? We’ve betrayed both Henry and Jane. And have you thought that maybe we’re hurting each other?”
“Meaning?”
“What if this isn’t God’s best for us?”
He rolled his eyes at that and walked to stand in front of the lectern. “But our marriages are loveless. Does God want us trapped in a world without love?”
“Clark, I know I don’t have the best marriage in the world, but
how can I work on it with you in the picture?”
Clark chuckled and folded his arms. “Why would you want to?”
I looked up at him. “Now, see? That’s my point.”
I held on to the lectern that separated us, and Clark rested his hands on top of mine. “But we belong together.”
“No, Clark, we don’t. In fact, our time together was only for a
moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“Henry’s taking an early retirement. We’re moving to Colorado.”
Clark’s face grayed, and he entwined his fingers through mine.
“No.”
“Clark, you’ve had to sense I was pulling away, and, well, in fact I’m ending this affair tonight. What we’ve been doing isn’t right. Now, I’ve got a fresh chance with my husband; a time to start over.
Clark, I’m taking it.”
His grip almost crushed my hands. “What about me?”
“I’m not your wife.” I pulled my hands away to wipe the tears that now kissed my cheek. Blindly, I pushed past him. Just before I opened the classroom door, I said, “I’m sorry, Clark; it’s over.”
That night, as I walked into the church parking lot, I did the hardest thing I’d ever done. I walked into a new life, a life where I could concentrate on my marriage and on my relationship with God. A life that had taken me to Summit View, Colorado, and to the Potluck Club, a life that did not include Clark William Wilkes. I had put him out of my mind . . . mostly, that is. And my new life had been working, it really had.
The freezing temperature of the predawn had done the trick. Now, instead of broiling in my skin, I felt chilled. I stood and entered my condo, shutting the sliding door behind me. I walked into the kitchen and put my glass in the sink before heading down the hall. I hugged my blanket shawl closer to my shoulders as I leaned onto the bedroom doorway, watching my husband as he slept. He looked so peaceful, so undisturbed by my terrible secret.
I smiled at the sight of him. Things were better for us. We’d been growing closer like a husband and wife should. Sure, it still felt at times that Clark was wedged between us, but that was now the past. I mean, it wasn’t as if Clark lived in town. Did he? Well, at least he didn’t attend our church; for that I could be grateful. So,
I was safe. I took a deep breath.
I’m safe, right, Lord?
My eyes focused on the bedside clock. It was almost five in the morning. I turned off the alarm and returned to the kitchen and switched on the light. It was too late to try to go back to sleep, so I figured I might as well start my day. I opened the kitchen cabinet and pulled out my mixing bowl. I’d planned to make a fresh batch of pineapple muffins, in honor of Becky and Allen’s recent engagement announcement. My baking had already made me one of the favorite leaders in the church’s singles group. Besides, I was really starting to love those young adults, and I could tell they looked up to me. And I wouldn’t let them down.
My muffins had been a hit at the Sunday school hour. I’d caught up with Henry and found our seats in the sanctuary. We were early, so I looked for Evie. I found her sitting in her usual spot with Vernon. They looked so cute together, Vernon in a gray suit that complemented his blue eyes and gray hair, and Evie, so lovely in a swishy black velvet skirt topped with a scooped long-sleeved velvet top in maroon.
Has she been shopping Coldwater Creek? I wondered. Good for her.
“Evie, how are you today?”
“Fine,” she said, not looking like she meant it. She asked, “Did
you get the situation with Bar-None worked out?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I saw you and Donna discussing things on the roadside yesterday, and I was wondering if you two had come up with a plan?”
Vernon’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned his face from me to hide what looked like a mixture of both mirth and terror.
“Well, I did drop by the tavern to talk to Dee Dee, but I’m afraid I didn’t get anywhere with her.”
My mouth fell open. “You dropped by the tavern? Does Donna know?”
Vernon muffled a cough and . . . what, a grin?
Evie sat straighter. “She does.”
“And?”
“You’ll have to talk to her about her own plans to speak to her mother.”
“Okay. I will.”
As I bade Evie and Vernon good-bye, I spotted Donna sitting in her usual spot with Vonnie, Vonnie’s mother and father, and Fred on one side and David on the other. She was wearing a new red turtleneck with a pair of black slacks. I knew she’d worked the night shift, so she’d probably head for home as soon as church was over. I’d try to grab her now.
I blinked. Was Wade sitting behind her? Sure enough! My, what a cozy little party they made, a little party I would love to crash.
Just as I began to make my way across the sanctuary, I heard my name ring out in a deep baritone. “Lisa Leann Lambert!”
I turned to find myself face-to-face with Clark Wilkes and his wife Jane. I pasted on my best smile and turned my attention to Jane, ignoring the look of “gotcha!” Clark was sending me with his wide grin.
Jane’s unmade face looked grim, and her flat gray eyes seemed to shield me from a secret. Yikes! There was something about this woman that scared me. I gave her a hug anyway. “Why, it’s the Wilkes from the Woodlands, Texas. Imagine seeing you two here. Are you on vacation?”
Jane, dressed in a long denim shift over a long-sleeved red tee, simply stated, “We moved here.”
“Oh! Ah, that’s nice. To Summit View, you mean?”
“Yes.”
I could see Clark standing just behind her, his eyes glittering, looking handsome in a chocolate-colored designer suit. The brute. I made momentary eye contact with him, then said, “Well, nobody told me you were coming to town.”
Jane said, “It was a sudden decision to—”
Clark interrupted. “Yep, and here we are and looking for a church home. We knew if we visited around enough we’d eventually run into you and Henry. And here you are.”
I tried to sound unimpressed. “Well, Henry and I like it here, but I don’t think the music style is what you’re really used to. You know, they go for all those newfangled praise songs. Not the majestic hymns you two are used to singing back at First.”
Clark glanced at his wife. “Oh, I’m sure we can adjust. Besides, I think it would be nice to have friends here, like the Lamberts.”
Jane gave me an unconvincing nod. Clark continued, “Where are you and Henry sitting?”
I pointed. “Over there.”
“Lead the way, it’ll be good to say hello to Henry.”
I turned and headed back the way I’d come, my heart hammering despite my cool facade. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,” I said as the couple followed me to my seat.
Henry looked up as we approached. “Henry,” I called out, just as the pianist entered from the side door to sit at the piano bench. “You’ll never guess who I just found.”
The look of surprise on Henry’s face broke my heart. No, he didn’t know. He didn’t suspect a thing. He shook hands with Clark and said his hellos to Jane while my fake smile practically froze my face.
As the Wilkes settled beside us, I was glad Jane sat between Clark and me. It prevented him from quietly touching me with a shoulder or thigh.
Lord, please, don’t let him touch me. I don’t know if I could bear it.
As the piano began to call us to worship, I continued my prayer.
Lord, my sin has found me, now help me not to be found out. Please. Give me strength.
Sunday lunchtime at my house was becoming a habit with my family, a habit with responsibility that rested solely on me. I mean, I counted my blessings, glad that Fred and I could have each other, my son David, and my mom and dad at our table. But to tell the truth, I was about Sundayed out.
With mom’s care demands, then the disappointing news she had a fresh ankle fracture, I was stressed to the max. How could I survive another six weeks as her personal caregiver? And how could I do that while I played cook and housemaid to both her and our men?
All I knew was I needed help. In fact, “help!” was the theme of my morning prayers as I somehow managed to peel potatoes, chop carrots, and slice an onion before dumping them, along with my roast, into my trusty Crock-Pot. Of course, all the while I ran in and out of the kitchen in an effort to get both myself and my cantankerous mother ready for church.
By the time I sat down in the pew with Mother, Dad, and Fred on one side and David and Donna on the other, I was ready for a mid-morning nap. And I would have taken one too, if the sermon’s topic hadn’t been based on the text of Psalm 37. As the pastor read it in his NIV, I’d underlined bits of text from verses eight through eleven in my Living Bible: “Stop your anger! Turn off your wrath. Don’t fret and worry—it only leads to harm. . . . But all who humble themselves before the Lord shall be given every blessing and shall have wonderful peace.”
Peace? What would that be like? And as for anger, I’d been more than a little familiar with the feeling of late.
I stole a look at my mother sitting so straight in her pale pink knit suit. Judging by her elegant appearance, no one would suspect how difficult she’d been.
My mind began to wander from the sermon. . . . It wasn’t that Mother had mistreated me as a child. She’d been decent enough, but she’d hurt me over my first husband. Then, she’d betrayed me over my baby, tricking me into signing David’s adoption papers after she told me he died at childbirth, a birth I’d slept through due to the strong medications I’d been given. Yes, I was angry. Yes, I’d love to turn off that feeling, but how? How does one get to that “wonderful peace”?
The only solution I could think of was for God to heal my mother so she could go back home. Lord, please?
But it was my home she would return to this afternoon. Mother and a band of hungry men would soon be expecting Sunday lunch, compliments of Vonnie, cook and self-sacrificing slave to all.
So help me, I sighed as I thought about getting everything on the table, taking care of Mother, then cleaning up the mountain of dirty dinner plates that would be left behind.
How I missed having Donna around. She’d been like a daughter to me and was such good company, as she always stayed until the last dish was clean and resting in the cabinet. But lately, she’d pretty much disappeared from my life. I mean, I was glad to have found my son David, but how I missed my time with Donna.