Heart of Clay (15 page)

Callan got up, took a shower, and pulled on
a sweater and jeans - something she rarely allowed herself to wear,
always in business mode. She brushed her hair back into a ponytail,
put on waterproof mascara, and opened the bedroom door.

All was quiet.

Silently walking into the kitchen, she
opened the refrigerator only to find it nearly empty. Dill pickles,
flour tortillas, and cottage cheese were not her ideal breakfast.
After making a shopping list, she tugged on her snow boots and
coat.

As she opened the door to leave, she noticed
her crystal heart vase lying in pieces on the floor. She couldn’t
deal with it at that moment and would clean it up later. Maybe
she’d have some idea what to say to Clay by the time she got
back.

When she returned home, Clay’s truck was
gone. The note on the counter caught her eye as she carried in
groceries and set the bags down.

Callan,

I’ve got to have some time to think.

We both could use some space.

I’m staying tonight at the ranch and will be
home tomorrow night.

I love you,

Clay

Well, at least he hadn’t left her entirely.
He was probably holed up in the cabin, wondering why he ever got
mixed up with her.

The sound of a car door closing made Callan
tense as she finished putting away the last of the groceries.
Resolved to facing Clay, she waited in the kitchen for him to
appear.

“Halloo,” Aunt Julie called, walking inside
and stomping snow from her boots. “Anybody home?”

“Aunt Julie!” Callan hurried into the living
room and embraced her beloved aunt in a hug. “What are you doing
out today?”

“I decided to spend the day with you, unless
you have other plans.” Julie shrugged out of her coat and
boots.

“No, I don’t have any plans.” Callan stared
intently at a speck of lint on the carpet, not looking her aunt in
the eye.

Julie hooked her arm through Callan’s and
headed into the kitchen. “Wonderful. We’ll have all day to talk and
get caught up.”

Callan made them both a cup of tea and
managed to find a few cookies in the freezer left over from the
holidays. After putting everything on a tray, she took it into the
living room and flipped on the gas fireplace. The two women sat in
facing chairs, sipping their tea, neither one talking.

Finally, Julie broke the silence. “Clay came
to see me last night.”

“Oh. What did he say?” Callan fidgeted with
her cup.

“Generally, he’s a man of few words, but he
seemed in the mood to talk last night. You two may have said some
things you both wish you hadn’t. Is that right?”

“Maybe.”

Callan tried to pull the lid down on her
emotions but Julie wasn’t about to let it happen.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what
happened and why you never told Clay about the baby. I kept your
secret only because I thought you would tell him when he got home.
I never dreamed you’d never tell him. That was so wrong, honey, and
so hurtful. You also should have told him about your surgery when
you were younger. It was unfair not to tell him you might never be
able to have children, Callan. He feels completely shut out of your
life.”

Uncertain where to begin, Callan fidgeted in
her chair. “I was afraid of him leaving me, Aunt Julie. I meant to
tell him before we got married that it could be a challenge to have
kids. Then I got scared he’d leave me. After the miscarriage, he
wouldn’t have forgiven me for losing the baby and destroying the
opportunity to have another. I always knew he’d leave me someday, I
just kept hoping to postpone the inevitable.”

Julie set her tea down on the table with a
clank. “Leave you, Callan? Why in the world would Clay leave you?
He loves you, honey. Loves you more than I think I’ve ever seen a
man love a woman.”

Callan shook her head. “It can’t be
true.”

Julie got out of her chair and knelt in
front of Callan, pulling her niece’s cold, trembling hands into her
own. “Why can’t it be true? Why can’t Clay love you that much? Why,
Callan? There has to be a reason.”

“Because I’m me,” Callan whispered as tears
slid down her cheeks. “I’m not good enough.”

“Good enough? For what? For who? Callan,
you’re not making any sense,” Julie said, trying to understand what
Callan still held back.

“For Clay. I’m not good enough for Clay. I
never could understand what he saw in me and knew it was a matter
of time until he figured it out.”

“Figured what out, Callan?” Julie knew she
was pushing, but needed to know what Callan wasn’t saying.

“That he could do so much better without me.
That he could have a better life with someone who isn’t too
emotional, with someone pretty, someone smart, someone who isn’t
selfish and pathetic, someone who can keep their thoughts and
feelings under control, someone who could give him a baby,
someone…”

Julie grabbed Callan’s arms and gave her a
shake. “Stop it, Callan! Stop it right, now. Your mother was a
sick, vindictive woman. All those things she said to you over and
over again are not true. Not one bit. You have to let it go,
Callan. You’ve got to let go of the past if you want any chance at
having a happy future.”

“But, Aunt Julie…”

“No. I mean it Callan. You can’t let what
your mother said ruin your happiness. What she did was wrong and
cruel, but you have to take responsibility for yourself. That means
you are one hundred percent responsible for your own happiness, for
your choices, for everything that happens from here on out. You are
also responsible to allow yourself to feel your emotions, Callan.
To approve of yourself. To love yourself. To let your adoring
husband love you. Don’t push people away, honey. Let them in.”

Callan took a shuddering breath and wiped
her tears. “I don’t know how or where to start.”

“Let’s start with this… Callan is smart,
funny and beautiful,” Julie said with a big smile. “Now repeat it
with me.”

Callan glared at her aunt as if she’d lost
her mind.

Julie laughed and patted her leg. “Come on,
let’s hear you say it. Callan is…”

“Going to die of embarrassment. Really, Aunt
Julie, I can’t.” Callan looked as if she might crawl under the
chair and hide.

“It’s just the two of us and yes you can. So
here we go…”

They spent the rest of the day together.
There were many more rounds of tears, but also some laughter. Julie
helped Callan straighten every drawer in her dresser before she
went home.

On the way there, she called Josh and Jenna
and asked them if they would pop in to visit Callan. She didn’t
give them any details, just said that Callan could use their
company. They offered to take over some dinner and spend the
evening with her.

The next morning, Julie called Clay and let
him know what Callan shared with her. He was even more shocked than
Julie had been to hear what Callan thought.

“But Julie, how could she think I’d ever
leave her? I’d never do that, ever. She’s everything to me,” Clay
said as his parents sat at the table, listening to the
conversation.

“I know, Clay. It’s going to take some time,
but our girl is going to come around. Just be patient with her,
love her, and forgive her,” Julie said.

“Thanks for staying with her yesterday. I
felt better knowing you were there.”

“No problem, Clay. Bye.”

Clay hung up the phone and turned to see his
mom and dad looking at him expectantly. Resigned to telling them
the whole story, he sat down with a heavy heart.

He explained about Callan’s surgery, the
pregnancy and miscarriage. He described her lack of emotions and
the tailspin that resulted in their fight. He told them about going
to see Julie, and the surprising revelation Callan shared with her
yesterday.

When he finished, Bobbi mopped at tears and
Steve cleared his throat several times.

“What can we do to help, Clay?” Steve
finally asked.

“I don’t know right now, other than to keep
praying for us both,” Clay said as he gathered his things and put
on his coat.

“That we can do,” Steve promised.

Callan could hardly bear the quiet of the
empty house. Being alone with herself and her thoughts was a form
of miserable torture she felt ill prepared to face.

After doing laundry, cleaning the house,
putting a pork roast in the slow cooker, and making cookies, she
didn’t know what else to do. In her office, she glanced through her
day planner, relieved she didn’t have any events for the next two
weeks. She needed time with Clay to try to work through their
problems.

She felt very thankful to Aunt Julie for
coming yesterday and saying the things she said. Callan finally
realized she had to move past the horrible things her mother had
conditioned her to believe and work on living what was true.

Aunt Julie had promised to bring her some
books to read that would help her get started down the road to
self-improvement and had brought them by that morning. She stayed
around for a while to talk, but Callan needed time to think.

It would be hard to silence the negative
commentary that ran non-stop in her head, but she knew she had to
try. For her sake and for Clay’s.

Tears came afresh as she thought about Clay
and the look on his face when she finally told him about losing the
baby. She should never have kept it from him.

Clay deserved to know. He had a right to
know. He had a right to grieve every bit as much as she had. Yet,
she let her fear overwhelm the truth of the matter. Now she
wondered if he would ever forgive her or trust her again.

Uncertain as to what she should do, Callan
went into their bedroom, slid a box from the back of the top closet
shelf, and sat on the bed. As she opened the lid, the smell of old
papers and dried flowers rose from it, tickling her nose and making
her sneeze.

Digging into the box, Callan found the first
card Clay had ever given her. It was a birthday card and had a
funny line about eating too much chocolate. She placed it on the
bed, pulling out a stack of notes tied with a ribbon. For a long
time, anytime Clay wrote her a note or scribbled anything to her,
she saved it. She didn’t think she was ready to read those yet and
set them aside.

Callan stuck her hand back into the box and
connected with a bunch of dried flowers tied with a pink ribbon. It
was the first bouquet Clay had given her – pink roses floating in a
sea of baby’s breath. They had been so beautiful. Callan remembered
she had pulled out the baby’s breath and carefully dried the roses.
More than thirteen years later, they still looked lovely.

Clay had always been good to send her
flowers for every anniversary, Valentine’s Day, and her birthday.
He used to pick out different shades of pink roses, select a
special vase, and personally write the card for the florist to
deliver.

The past few years, he still made sure the
flowers were delivered, but they were always red, in a standard
glass vase with a note that simply said, “Clay,” written by the
florist. Callan wondered why he even bothered.

Instead of bringing her joy, those flowers
had become a mocking symbol of all that was wrong in their
relationship. A reminder of all that Callan had done to destroy
Clay’s love, whether intentionally or subconsciously, and drive him
away.

Reflective, Callan realized she had been
overwhelmed with grief, guilt, and pain the last few years. Instead
of sharing it with Clay and moving forward, she’d pulled it around
herself like a shield and drug it with her every day until the
weight was too much to bear. All the horrible things her mother had
led her to believe were true only added to the burden.

When she’d first fallen in love with Clay,
she pushed the negative thoughts aside because she was so filled
with the wonder and joy of his love. For the first few years, they
were blissfully happy. Then her mother’s words started trickling
back into her thoughts. With the losses coming all at once as they
had three years ago, they bore down on her with full force. She
knew if she and Clay were going to have a chance for a future, she
had to bury the past.

As painful as it was, as hard as it was
going to be, she was glad Clay finally knew the truth. She was also
grateful beyond words to think that he might still love her enough
to stay. Callan knew she’d spent a long time angry at God, but it
seemed right today to pray for forgiveness, healing for her heart
and Clay’s, and for God’s keeping of their lost baby.

When she stuck her hand back into the box,
Callan pulled out ticket stubs from movies and concerts they’d
seen, programs from plays they’d attended, and silly pictures
they’d taken in a photo booth one day at the mall. Her hand
connected with a lumpy piece of tissue paper. Carefully unwrapping
it, she rubbed the little dog statue Clay had bought her the day
she’d fallen in love with him.

“Oh, Clay,” she cried, curling up on the
bed, the little dog clutched in her hand. “How are we ever going to
make this right?”