Reconciled for Easter Page 19

  Jessica was obviously listening, obviously reflecting on what she’d said, but she didn’t jump in with advice or questions.

  So Abigail just went on. “I think it’s different with me as a mother. I mean, I can fully love Mia and know she loves me. But, with Thomas, I kept feeling like I couldn’t ever be what he wanted, like he must want something other than me—from the beginning, when I couldn’t even…even get through the wedding night. I know in my mind now that it’s not true, but I can’t seem to not believe it. I thought things were improving and getting easier, but the minute I let my guard down, I start believing it again. I can’t seem to change.”

  Jessica nodded, as if she understood—or as if she at least had heard what Abigail had said.

  “So, you see, it’s not that I can’t forgive Thomas. Of course, I can forgive him, just like he’s forgiven me. I’m just…so tired. You know, Daniel asked me a while back if I was content to always connect help with shame, and I keep going back to that. Because marriage seems like the most intense version of that feeling. I need Thomas so much—so, so much—and I always feel not-good-enough with him. Even now, I feel not-good-enough because I’m not strong enough to be with him the way I should.”

  Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes, after Abigail had finished. She felt exposed, a little self-conscious, but not the way she normally did when something about her true self was revealed.

  “My dad stopped talking to me when I left Thomas,” Abigail said, for no particular reason. “He’d been more and more disapproving of the changes I’d made—cutting my hair, changing my clothes, trying to work outside the home. And the separation was the last straw for him. His daughter wouldn’t do such a thing, so I must not be his daughter.”

  “What about your mom?” Jessica asked softly.

  Abigail sighed. “She’ll never go against my dad. She never did—not once since the day I was born. So I don’t talk to her either. Her only act of rebellion is to send me and Mia cards at the holidays. I took Mia up there to try to mend fences over Christmas, and I saw my mother a couple of times, but it didn’t fix anything. My father wouldn’t even see me. They’re ashamed of me.” She stared down at the table. “I’m ashamed of myself, but not for the same reasons. It feels like I’m always playing out the same pattern of working so hard to be good enough but never getting there. I just wish I could make myself stop.”

  “Yeah,” Jessica murmured. “It’s never that easy.”

  Abigail felt heard, understood, and not judged at all—which made her feel a little better. She got up to refill their mugs with hot water, and then Jessica said, “I was talking to Daniel earlier this week as he was thinking through his sermon for Good Friday.”

  Having no idea where this was going, Abigail sat down again, dunking a new tea bag.

  “And I was thinking about how what we always think about in Jesus’ death is the pain and the blood and the death itself. For good reason, of course, since it was horrible. But, as I was talking to Daniel, I had a new thought.”

  “What thought?” The turn of the conversation seemed safe enough, not horribly painful or intimate, so Abigail was genuinely curious.

  “He was naked,” Jessica said. “He was naked. In front of all those people who hated him. They took his clothes. They utterly humiliated him. He had no dignity or privacy or security left. They took it all. And I kept thinking, that’s our shame. That’s my shame. He carried that too.”

  She didn’t even seem to be talking to Abigail anymore. She was staring down at her tea, murmuring almost to herself, “To make us new. To make us beautiful.”

  Abigail felt frozen, almost numb, as she processed the words, as she understood them as true. She couldn’t say anything, couldn’t react in any appropriate way. She just sat, something inside her shaking helplessly.

  “Anyway,” Jessica said, wiping a tear away with an ironic sigh. “I’m not any good at advice or comforting words, but that’s what I was thinking.”

  Abigail tried to say something, but couldn’t.

  “Are you okay?” Jessica asked, after another minute.

  Abigail shook her head. “I don’t think I am.”

  “Well, just let me know if you need anything. And if you ever need some time on your own or decide you want to talk to Thomas or anything, you’re welcome to drop Mia off with me. Mia and I had a long conversation on Friday evening about what kinds of books I should get to read to Nathan, so I think we get along pretty well.”

  Abigail felt a ripple of amusement, picturing Mia’s grave face during the conversation, and the brief laughter seemed to crack something inside her, a well of feeling that could barely be held back.

  Jessica was already on her way out, and she didn’t linger for more conversation. Abigail did her best to thank her, but she was close to sobbing as she finally closed the door.

  She leaned against the door, her whole body shaking, sinking down to the floor and hugging her knees as the emotion rocked her, as she saw her whole history of never feeling good enough illuminated by the truth.

  It was a long time before she could stand up again.

  ***

  She eventually pulled herself together enough to pick up Mia, and they went out to get ice cream and took it to the duck pond so they could sit on a bench as they ate it.

  Mia liked to watch the ducks, and Abigail just wanted to occupy her mind so she wouldn’t start crying again.

  After they scraped the last of the ice cream from their cups, Mia stared out at the pond for a long time, finally asking, “Is Daddy coming over tonight?”

  With a painful slice through her heart, Abigail said, “I don’t think so, honey.”

  “Did you guys have a bad fight?”

  “We didn’t have a fight. You know that he doesn’t come over every night.”

  “But he’s been coming a lot. And he’s been kissing you and sleeping over. I thought maybe we would all live together again.”

  Abigail pulled the girl closer, wrapping her in a hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know if that will happen.”

  “Grown up stuff is complicated,” Mia said with a sigh, repeating words she’d heard many times.

  “It is. But we both love you so much. You know that, don’t you?”

  Mia nodded, no uncertainty at all on her face. “Yes, I know that. But you don’t love each other?”

  “Yes, we love each other. We do. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to live together again.”

  “I wanted us to. I wanted us all to move into Daddy’s house with all the trees and the window seat for reading.”

  Abigail stroked loose strands of hair from her face. “I know. That does sound nice, doesn’t it? But our home is nice too, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It is.”

  Mia didn’t say anything else immediately, but Abigail knew it was because she was thinking things through. She was like Thomas in that—sorting ideas out in her mind before she had them together enough to put into words.

  Abigail waited patiently, staring out at the rippling water of the pond. When Mia’s thinking went on for much longer than normal, she started to get worried, though. So she finally asked, “Are you okay, Mia? I know you wanted Daddy around all the time, but I promise it will still be okay.”

  Mia nodded gravely. “Yes. It’s okay. It’s like Daddy said.”

  “What did Daddy say?”

  “He said he looks at me and loves me, no matter what happens. Even if I’m sick or I’m bad or anything. Because I’m his. He looks at us and loves us. It’s that way with us and Daddy, right? We look at him and love him—even if he’s crabby from work or not living with us—because he’s ours.”

  “Yes,” Abigail said slowly, the emotion that had been so close to the surface all day rising up again at the sweet words. “That’s exactly right.”

  She hugged Mia close, fighting back the burning in her eyes, since she didn’t want to cry and scare the little girl.

  And, when Mia got up an
d went to throw away their empty cups, Abigail suddenly knew exactly what she needed to do.

  Mia had been exactly right. Abigail looked at Thomas and loved him. Still. No matter how much work it might still take to make their marriage what it should be. And she suddenly knew—knew, without any doubt or question—that Thomas looked at her and loved her too.

  ***

  Abigail had to call Jessica up and ask if Mia could come visit Nathan for an hour or two, so she could go talk to Thomas. Mia wanted to come to see her father too, but Abigail knew they could never have the conversation they needed if their daughter was present, so she promised to bring Daddy back with her, if at all possible.

  This seemed to satisfy Mia, who was excited about seeing baby Nathan and talking to Jessica about books. If Jessica knew what was happening—as she almost certainly did—she never revealed a clue, just acted casual and friendly as she and Bear welcomed Mia inside.

  Abigail drove over to Thomas’s house, a big, rambling Victorian on several acres. She parked in the driveway and sat staring at the front door, trying to work up the courage to go knock.

  Now that she was here, she was terrified again. She’d hurt Thomas. A lot. Evidently, he hadn’t been answering his phone, even when his sister tried to call him. He’d poured so much into their relationship over the last few months, and she’d rewarded it with nothing but a broken heart. Eventually, he would give up and find someone who treated him better.

  She fought against the feelings, though, knowing they weren’t based in truth, and she made herself get out of the car and walk up the door. She rang the doorbell. Then waited, hugging her arms to her chest.

  After a minute, she heard slow steps coming toward the door, creaking on the old hardwood of the front hall. Then there was a pause. He probably looked out to see who it was.

  Then suddenly the door swung open so quickly it left her breathless.

  Thomas stared at her. He wore a t-shirt and the bunny pajama pants that Mia had picked out for him, and his face was stretched far more than normal, dark shadows under his eyes.

  He didn’t look like he’d slept at all. He looked terrible and wonderful and exactly like Thomas. Every feeling and instinct in her body and heart reached out toward him in absolute need.

  “Hi,” she said stupidly, when he kept staring at her in silence.

  His eyes moved over her shoulder, to her car, and then back up the walk to her face again—like he was checking to see if Mia was present.

  “She’s at Jessica and Daniel’s,” Abigail explained. “So I could come talk to you.”

  Thomas’s frozen composure cracked then. She could see it quite clearly. It cracked just like the flood of her own emotions had cracked earlier when she’d been talking to Jessica.

  He made a rough, guttural sound, his face almost contorting with powerful feeling, and he reached out to pull her into his arms.

  She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as he held her, and he was real and warm and strong and weak and human. He was Thomas.

  “Oh, baby,” he murmured, his face buried in her hair. “I’m so sorry if I pressured you or tried to push you into something too fast.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “I know I did. I was just so excited. I’ve wanted you back so much for so long, that I wasn’t thinking about how fast we were moving. But I promise I can be patient. I’ll wait just as long as you need. I’m not expecting any sort of final answer or commitment, but please say you won’t give up on us completely. I know how hard it is. I know how tired we both still are. I know it can’t all be fixed just because we both might want it to be. I can wait however long you need. I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s never going to change.”

  He’d finally loosened his grip and pulled back, but only to take her face in both of his hands. “I want you to believe me one day. I want you to know for sure how strong and sweet and brave and beautiful you are to me. But, if you don’t, I’ll still love you. Nothing is going to make me stop.”

  She raised her hands to cover his on her face and was momentarily blinded by tears. “I do believe you,” she managed to choke out. “I do believe you. I love you too.”

  He looked like someone had socked him in the gut—absolutely dumbfounded.

  “I love you, Thomas,” she said again, lowering his hands from her face and taking both of them in hers. “I still love you. I never stopped. And I know I’m too tired and not strong enough to fight all my old struggles, but the real fight has already been won. And the rest I don’t have to do alone. I know that now. I think I finally…I finally see it. So I want to love you all the way. If you’ll help me. If you’ll do it with me. If we can really do this together. That’s what I came over here to say.”

  When the words finally processed, he made another one of those strangled sounds and gathered her into his arms again.

  Since she hadn’t quite finished, she said against his shirt, “I know we still have some work to do. I know we’re never going to be perfectly fixed, so I need to stop expecting that. We can still go to counseling for a while, if that’s okay with you. But I want to be your wife again. All the way. I want us to live together again. I love you, and you love me, and I want to finally live that out.”

  He was shuddering against her, beneath her hands. She’d never once in her life seen him like this—so absolutely uncomposed.

  If she hadn’t known it before, there was no way to deny it now. This man felt deeply. He loved deeply. And all of the depth and power of his passion and devotion was focused on her, was given to her, was spread like a benediction over her.

  Twelve

  When the hug finally ended, Thomas still stood in the doorway, gazing down at her. At long last, they seemed to understand each other.

  Finally, Thomas said, “Did you want to come in and talk about it?”

  “Yeah. I do. But, before that, do you think maybe you could kiss me?”

  There had been a lilt to her tone, so Thomas was chuckling warmly as he pulled her into the house, closed the door behind them, then leaned down and claimed her mouth.

  Abigail instinctively twined her arms around his neck, holding his head in place with one hand. He slid his tongue along the line of her lips until she opened for him. Then his tongue met hers, and Abigail groaned into his mouth at the resulting sensations and feelings.

  It felt real, completely, like a concrete manifestation of how they were really together again.

  The kiss got really deep really fast, since both of them were pretty stretched in their emotions. Soon, Abigail could feel Thomas’s hard arousal rubbing against her, and her own body was squirming with increasing urgency.

  When Thomas finally tore his mouth away from hers, he panted a few times. “Did you want to talk now?”

  She assessed the state of her heart and her body and said hoarsely, “We can if you want. Or we can…do something else first.”

  “Do we need to get Mia anytime soon?”

  “No. Jessica said she could stay for a few hours.”

  His skin was slightly damp, and he rubbed his forehead. “I don’t want to pressure you to anything too soon, but do you think—”

  “Thomas,” she interrupted. “Of course, we can have sex. What did you think I meant by something else. I’m your wife, and I’m dying to.”

  He let out his breath in a rush, his face transforming with relief. “Then shall we go upstairs? Because, honestly, if we don’t, I might just lose it right here in the entry hall.”

  She giggled helplessly and then let him grab her hand as they both hurried up the stairs to his bedroom.

  There, he kissed her again and then swung her down onto the bed, causing a thrill of excitement to run through her, a top note to the current of deep emotion.

  When he moved over her, Abigail felt another thrill, this time centered in a very specific location. She maneuvered her legs so that her thighs were on either side of his hips.

  When Thomas just gazed at h
er again, she said, “I thought you wanted to make love.”

  “I do. You better believe I do.”

  “You’re just staring at me.”

  “I can’t help it. I feel like a miracle happened, like the world just came back to life.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down into a kiss. “Maybe it did.”

  Thomas kissed her with slow, sensual care. The press of his hot, hard body was delicious, and the vibrations from his suppressed laughter and emotion generated shivers of pleasure, shooting down to her growing arousal.

  Abigail tried to stroke his hair with her fingertips, but as the swell of excitement built inside her, she ended up clutching more than caressing.

  Her feelings were just too powerful to contain.

  By the time his tongue had thoroughly explored her mouth and teased her tongue into fluttering, Abigail was making smothered moans in the back of her throat and arching up to rub herself against him. “Thomas, please don’t stall.”

  “I’m not stalling, baby. I’m trying to contain myself so I don’t totally lose it. But, I promise, I’ll give you anything you want.”

  Abigail’s breathing sped up to shallow pants as he took off her clothes, tenderly kissing the skin that was revealed. Then she gave a little squeak of pleasure when he mouthed just beneath her belly button. Her blood was coursing through her heated body, and her mind was clouding with desire. He was pressing kisses on different spots of her stomach—each perfectly placed to both surprise and stimulate her.

  Thomas mouthed one of her breasts, and then he flicked his tongue, making her jerk up her knee. “So beautiful.”

  “I love you, Thomas.” Abigail gasped, almost writhing as he twirled her nipple with his tongue and his lips. “So much.”

  Thomas lowered his head again to give her breasts more attention. Soon, she was biting her lip to keep from moaning too loudly as he suckled one breast with his mouth and fondled the other with his hand.