On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20) (36 page)

S
ummer was over and Chelsea found that life had developed a new rhythm. In her home, she was more comfortable and content than she’d ever been anywhere. It was the very first time she had her own place, a home that no one could take from her. Over time she began to find little things to incorporate into each room, things that were more personal to her. All throughout the house, she had family photos, but John’s pictures she only set out in her bedroom.

His was the first face she saw upon waking and the last before going to sleep each night. The way he looked at her in one photo in particular was what kept her hope alive. Taken in Italy by a passing stranger, the picture captured the way John most often looked at her, as if she were the love of his life. It was that love that kept her going most days, that and the hope that he would call or show up any day.

His photos were her constant reminder to pray for him, which she did faithfully. They varied day by day. Always she prayed that John could truly know God and the intimate relationship He offered. Many days she prayed for wisdom as he conducted business. Often she prayed for safety for him as he traveled. In praying for him, it kept her closely connected with him and much less lonely. When she framed her circumstance with the thought that John’s life might be forever altered by their separation, it kept her grounded and with the right perspective. Daily she had to put her heart’s desire second to God’s plan for John.

There were many occasions when she considered calling him or texting. Once she began a text but deleted it without sending. She was desperate to know if he was doing well. The reminder of how he reacted after Tracy’s death often came to mind. He told her he began what became a
string of meaningless relationships with many women. How could she not wonder if he was doing the same after she left L.A.? For a year he went without intimacy with her, and she sincerely believed there was no one else while they were together. After that length of time, however, she would be a fool to believe he hadn’t sought comfort in the arms of a woman willing to meet his physical needs. The thought sickened her to the point of physical illness on one occasion. From that night forward, she refused to allow such thoughts to rule her. Instead, she tried to focus on praying for him and carving out a new life for herself.

Since she began living in town, she was able to walk to church on most Sundays. Her house was just a block over and two blocks south of the church in which she grew up. Within a few weeks, she was playing and singing again. Ever so slowly, she was coming back to life. This particular Sunday, Chelsea was washing her hands in the ladies room when Lucy, Tuck’s daughter, came to stand next to her and wash her hands as well. Chelsea smiled down at Lucy. Her hair was strawberry-blond like her mother’s, and she wore it in braids most often. Once when Chelsea complimented her hair, Lucy told her that her daddy was great at braiding hair. The thought of the oversize farm boy braiding his daughter’s hair still gave Chelsea cause to smile. With Lucy standing there rinsing the suds off of her hands and grinning up at her, Chelsea realized, without question, their decision was the right one. She felt a warm sense of relief in knowing that.

Since her return, Tuck was not shy in making conversation with her. Each Sunday he made it a point to find her and compliment her on whatever song she sang, even when she was merely a part of the larger praise team. They both knew they were being carefully observed by those around them. At first, it was quite awkward for them, as if living in a small town fishbowl. Not surprisingly, the questions began to surface if they would get back together. While Chelsea could see that Tuck was hopeful, her heart was far from able to even consider it. If anything, her heart was still so filled with hope that John would come for her, she refused to entertain the thought of allowing Tuck back into her life at all. It was because of this hope that she kept Tuck at arm’s length over the summer. As difficult as things were for them those years before, she would do nothing to give him false hope, and in doing so, hurt him.

Her largest obstacle in avoiding Tuck had become Lucy. For some reason, Lucy was wild about Chelsea and wanted to be with her any chance she was given and seemed to be wherever Chelsea was at church each Sunday. Everywhere she looked, there was Lucy. If Chelsea was walking home from church, Lucy offered to walk with her. Many times Tuck would have to insist that Lucy get in the truck with him rather than to walk with Chelsea.

Lucy stood on tippy toes, holding her hands under the cool water. Excited that Chelsea was there with her, she said, “I liked your song today.”

“Thank you, Lucy. I really like the dress you’re wearing.”

“My daddy picked this out for me.”

Grinning, Chelsea asked, “So, your daddy is a good shopper?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Lucy added, “He’s good at everything. He can shop and bake and play with dolls.”

Chelsea was through washing and drying her hands, but she decided to wait for her little friend. “It sounds like you have the best daddy.”

“I do.” Grimacing, she admitted, “I don’t really have a mommy.”

Not expecting such a statement, Chelsea knelt before Lucy and said, “I’m very sorry about that. At least God gave you a good daddy to make up for it.”

“And my Maw Maw. She’s good too.” Lucy reached out and touched Chelsea’s hair. It was pretty and thick and Lucy wished her hair was a normal color, not pink, as one girl at school called it. Chelsea was the prettiest girl Lucy had ever known, and she wanted to be just like her, especially the way she played the piano and sang.

Chelsea could see that Lucy wanted to say something more but was hesitant. “Lucy, you have me as your friend. I know that may not make up for your mom, but it seems as if you have a whole lot of people who care about you.”

Lucy bit at her lip and fidgeted with her fingers. Finally she asked, “Since I don’t have a mommy to watch me play, will you watch sometime? I love when you play, and I want to be just like you.”

That was it! Lucy played piano. That was what so fascinated her. Why had she never mentioned it before? She wondered. As much as Lucy talked it should have come up. “Will I watch you play? Why, sure I will.”

Next thing she knew she’d committed to go to Lucy’s upcoming recital. It would be held at her school the following week. Lucy took piano lessons from the same teacher that taught Chelsea as a girl. Based on their conversation, Chelsea would have never refused. So it was settled, Chelsea would be there six o’clock.

When Chelsea walked into the elementary school, the same one she’d attended, she took a seat on one of the back rows. Proud parents filled the remaining seats in the gymnasium. An upright piano, likely the same one she took lessons on, was there on the makeshift stage. After sitting through a long line of students, finally Lucy’s turn came. Chelsea said a prayer for her, remembering how nerve-wracking it was when she first began playing. As Lucy walked up onto the stage, she spied Chelsea immediately. Excitedly, she waved at her, causing Tuck to turn to see who she was waving at.

Seeing Chelsea sitting there in the crowd, Tuck was stunned and for a minute couldn’t catch his breath. He could hardly figure how it came to be that she would come to watch Lucy’s recital. Figuring Lucy had cornered her at church sometime or another, he would be sure to apologize after it was over. Turning his attention back to Lucy, he watched as she played her piece perfectly. She practiced hour after hour on the old piano of his mother’s. Finally he understood why Lucy kept insisting she had to do her very best at the recital. It was for Chelsea.

After the last student played, parents were invited to stay for refreshments. Chelsea stayed long enough to compliment Lucy on her performance then tried to sneak out of the gym unnoticed. Lucy was an excellent pianist, and Chelsea was so proud of her. Her pauses were precise and her tempo perfect. Most children moved too quickly through their piece, clearly wanting the ordeal to be over. But not Lucy; she paced herself, as if savoring every moment of her time on stage. Chelsea remembered that feeling.

Just as she left the school, she heard Lucy calling after her rather urgently. Stopping at the end of the sidewalk, Chelsea allowed her to catch up.

Out of breath from running through the hallways, Lucy panted, “I don’t want sugar cookies. We are going for ice cream. Will you go with us?”

Tuck caught up just in time to hear Lucy’s invitation. “Sugar, I’m sure Chelsea has better things to do than go for ice cream.”

“Are there any better things to do than go for ice cream?” Chelsea asked Lucy. Taking Lucy’s hand, she said, “Thank you for asking. There’s not much I like more than mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

Tuck followed behind the girls, his heart fluttering in such an odd manner that he considered maybe he’d developed a heart murmur. It was something he’d never felt before. Even when he saw Chelsea in L.A. he was not as flustered as he was watching the two of them walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, chatting like two old friends. They discussed Lucy’s performance, and Chelsea seemed to be her biggest fan. It was not lost on him, that all along, Chelsea was supposed to be the mother to his little girl, never someone like Lindsey, a mother who would leave her baby before she even turned a year old.

Just as his harsh judgment against Lindsey traveled through his mind, Tuck felt that familiar sense of guilt wash over him. He’d never loved her and she knew that. How could he expect her to stay with a man who clearly longed for his lost love? Though he tried to pretend as best he could, once Lucy came along anyway, his heart was hardly in it. Lindsey was the reason he lost Chelsea, and each and every day he hated her for it. What woman would want to stick around in a marriage like that?

Inside the ice cream shop, the girls carried on talking, leaving him out of the conversation for the most part. When his mother arrived, she joined them and the three of them talked until Tuck’s ears hurt. He tried to think back in time, to decide if he’d ever felt as right in a moment as he felt then. Over the past few years, his one hope, even more so than that Chelsea would again be his someday, was that Chelsea could get to know Lucy and see that the path they chose was the right one. He longed for her to know that Lucy was the greatest gift imaginable and that the pain they both endured was for Lucy’s sake. When Chelsea looked at him over her ice cream cone, he could see that she got it. Her eyes when she talked with Lucy were tender and attentive. Chelsea saw in Lucy what he did. She was always worth their sacrifice.

When her grandmother said she was tired and heading for home, Lucy offered to go with her, saying, “Daddy can walk Chelsea home.”

After an awkward silence, Chelsea assured her, “Oh, I don’t need him to walk with me. I’m just down the block.”

Tuck insisted. Lucy and her grandmother left, and the next thing she knew, Chelsea was walking down the sidewalk with Tuck.

“I’m sorry about that.”

Grinning, Chelsea said, “That girl is something else.”

Wondering, Tuck asked, “But you like her though?”

Chelsea stopped. “She is one of the most amazing little girls I’ve ever known. Of course I love my nieces, and they are great girls, but Lucy’s different. She’s like a little lady in a girl’s body, wise beyond her years.”

Smiling, he agreed. “She
is
something else.”

They walked for a while in silence. As they neared her house, he said, “Thanks for letting me walk you home.” When they came to the end of the sidewalk leading to her house, Tuck stopped and looked up. Bobby told him that the old guy bought the house for her for graduation and about all the money he gave her. He could hardly get over it. Chelsea had millions of dollars and still she came to see his little girl play piano that night. No matter what she had, she was the same Chelsea he’d loved since she was a girl, long before he dared admit his feelings to her or Bobby.

“Thanks for walking with me. Do you want to come up for a minute?”

“Sure. Maybe we can swing for a while.”

Before either knew it, an hour had passed. Just as it was when he visited L.A., their old friendship surfaced, and it was as if nothing hurtful had ever stood between them. Tuck asked about John and surprising herself, Chelsea was very open about how she felt. Hoping to settle any confusion that Tuck may have, she admitted that she was still as in love with him as before. She went as far as to say that she had no intention of ever stopping. Her insistence that he would eventually come for her sounded as crazy when spoken aloud as she imagined it to be, but it was what she felt deep in her heart. Since there was no one else she could really be open with about John, and Tuck was the only one who knew what actually happened, she found it to be rather therapeutic to talk to him. It had been exhausting to keep up the pretense that she was over John.

Tuck was disappointed by her admission to be sure, but still his hope never faltered. With Chelsea living back home, going to church with him, and even beginning a sweet new friendship with his daughter, he had no reason to doubt that he could win her back eventually. The fact that she was finally willing to sit and simply talk to him was progress. Since she arrived home, he knew without question that she’d been avoiding him. So he allowed her space. Knowing that she was having a hard time adjusting to life back home, he would not do anything to pursue her while she was feeling so vulnerable. But as Bobby assured him she was getting stronger, he was simply biding his time to find an entry point back into her life. Ironically, it was Lucy who had made such a way.

John took the package with him and set it on the passenger seat when he headed for home. Occasionally, he would glance over at the box from Chelsea and wonder what she could’ve possibly sent. It was a day before his birthday, so he was sure it was a gift of some sort. When Irene brought the box in to his office and sat it on his desk, she cleared her throat, hoping to draw his attention to the return address. From that moment on, his attention was on little else but the box. Still, he fought the urge to open it there at the office. He instead wanted to be in the privacy of their home, fearing it would be something that would cause him to become emotional. For his birthday the previous year, her small photo album of their time together was the best gift he’d ever received in his life. Still, he looked through it, reminiscing and regretting.