The Breaking Point (42 page)

Renee had to look away, out the window at the front of the sanctuary to focus on the trees in the distance, the clouds floating by with slow contentment—anything but the ache in
her heart and the emptiness of her womb.

God, why can’t I get past this? Why, after all these years, is this pain so strong, so constant?

She turned to face her friend again. “Then, with each new shower, there was the added blessing of baby pictures.” Which had been nothing compared to the parade of new mothers bringing their little ones to church for everyone to coo at and hold. Every time, no matter how often Renee told herself she would keep her arms at her sides or sit in her pew, she couldn’t resist.

Like a mouse drawn to the waiting trap, she’d joined the women gathered around the tiny bundles, opened her arms when the babies were passed to her.

Every time, she’d cradled those tiny forms against her, pressed her cheek to their downy-soft heads, breathed in the fragrance that was so distinctive, so clearly the scent of baby and newness and life.

Every time, she’d handed the baby back, then made her way to her pew as she fought the sinking nausea of despair.

“I can’t do it anymore, Wanda.” Renee leaned against the wall, wishing she could be as strong, as impenetrable. “Not the showers, not the nursery, not any of it. I can’t smile and pretend it’s okay, that I don’t mind how every woman around me seems to be having a baby when I’m … I’m …” Defeat was an ache in her throat. “I’m not. And never will be.”

“Oh, Renee, you don’t know that.”

She could tell Wanda wanted to say more, was just drawing breath to do so, but she fell silent when she looked into Renee’s eyes. Because for once she didn’t hide the numbing grief that ravaged her heart, her hope.

“I do know, Wanda.” The words were flat, hollow. “I know, and now you know.”

“Renee … oh, Renee. I’m sorry.”

A mantle of pitying shock fell over Wanda’s features, and Renee knew she had misunderstood. She thought Renee was
saying she
couldn’t
have children. Sometimes she wished that were the case. That might be easier to bear than the truth.

Her first and only pregnancy had ended in disaster. There was no way of knowing if she could have another child. She’d never been given the chance.

Wanda’s awkward pat on her shoulder pulled Renee’s attention back to the woman at her side.

“I’ll make a note for the nursery coordinators to know that they shouldn’t … that you … I’ll just tell them not to bother you.”

Renee managed a nod around the lump lodged at the back of her throat. Relief came in the wake of Wanda’s departure, and Renee stood for a moment, soaking in the solitude. Then women’s voices and laughter drifted to her from the entryway. Almost against her will, she glanced out and saw, at the end of the chattering crowd, several older women talking to a young mother-to-be. The poor woman looked ready to burst, and one of the other women laughed and patted her swollen belly, a gesture of comfort known well in that particular sisterhood of mothers and mothers-to-be.

A sisterhood forever closed to Renee.

She grappled for some inner comfort but found only the silence she faced lately when she prayed. The barrenness she felt when she stared at herself in the mirror.

Barren. A barren woman.

She’d made the mistake once of looking up
barren
in the Bible. She’d been hoping for some comfort. What she found was verse after verse saying how pitiable, how miserable, it was for a woman to be barren.

Long ago they branded adulterous women with a large A on their foreheads. But was Renee’s brand any less painful? No scarred
A
glared out to meet those who looked at her, but she was branded just the same by empty arms …a vacant womb … a God-breathed purpose unfulfilled.

She had come so close …

Renee closed her eyes, remembering the joy of a life filling her womb, the wonder as the child within her moved and made its presence known. Her throat caught. What would he have looked like, their little one, if he’d lived? Would he have Gabe’s blue eyes or her green ones? Gabe’s blond hair or her copper tones?

Would his laugh have been an echo of theirs, his smile a sweet combination of Gabe’s dimples and her unrestrained grin?

She’d never know. Not about that little one—or about any other.

She was a female. What she would never really be was fully woman—and the thought turned her bitterness to bile.

Just get out of here. Fast. Before you do anything to humiliate yourself.

Thank heaven she and Gabe had come to church in separate cars so he could attend a meeting after church. She took a deep breath, then walked toward the crowded narthex—and the group of women standing in front of the outside doors.

She felt like a Christian in the arena going to shake paws with the lions.

Dodging smiling attempts to draw her into half a dozen conversations, Renee made her way to freedom, sidestepping the pregnant woman and her court, then letting out her pent-up relief when she finally pushed through the doors—and promptly barreled into someone heading in.

“Whoa, there! Where’s the fire, girl?”

Renee took a step back from the petite woman, whose pixie face was framed in a halo of golden curls. “Are you leaving already, Renee?”

Would this morning never end? She did her best to hide the grimace that was perched on the edge of her features. “Yes, I’m not fee—”

But Andrea’s attention was elsewhere. She was staring
over Renee’s shoulder, through the glass double doors, at the women gathered there. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Oh please … get me out of here …
Renee gave a faint smile. “Hmm?”

Andrea inclined her head to the crowd of couples. “All these women pregnant at the same time! So many sweet little babies. If that isn’t a blessing straight from God, I don’t know what is.”

Weary beyond imagining, Renee simply nodded, making what she hoped sounded more like an affirmation than a sob.

Andrea turned to study her. A flash of what looked suspiciously like pity touched the woman’s features, but vanished as quickly as it had come. Her slim hand patted Renee’s arm. “You know, Renee, natural childbirth isn’t the only way to go.”

Renee blinked. “I … excuse me?” Andrea slid an arm around her shoulders and gave her what was probably supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, but Renee didn’t feel comforted. In fact, she felt far more like she did when she walked on the nature path and felt one of those invisible, sticky strands of spiderweb hit her face.

A shiver rippled up Renee’s spine.
Please, just let me go home—

“Honey, it’s no shame that you can’t get pregnant.” Astonishment sputtered in Renee’s voice. “Can’t … who said we—?”

“Believe me, I know what it’s like to want a child and not be able to have one.”

Renee didn’t bother to reply, but she couldn’t hold back the bland, pointed stare at Andrea’s three beautiful children, who stood just behind their mother.

A pointed stare that Andrea completely missed. “You know, Alan and I are so glad we gave adoption a chance. Our baby boy is just as much a part of us as the children I bore.”

Renee knew Andrea meant well, knew that she had a
heart as big as the Sears Tower, but right now the last thing she wanted to hear about was the joy of adoption.

She tried to sidle away from Andrea’s arm. “So good to see you, Andrea.” She pointed toward her car. “I have to—”

The woman let her arm fall away—then fell into step beside Renee as she walked toward the parking lot. “There are so many children out there who need a good, solid family. A family like you and Gabe could give them.”

Renee wasn’t sure if she was going to burst into tears or hysterical laughter.

“If you’d like some information, I’d be happy to share it with you. I’ve even talked with Gabe about it and he seemed interested—”

“Stop.”

Andrea didn’t even break stride. Maybe she thought Renee hiccupped rather than spoke.

“Adoption is
such
a worthy cause, Renee. Maybe God is calling you two to serve a child in this way.”

“Andrea …”

“I mean, look at Gabe. Children absolutely adore him.”

Renee looked to the entryway. Sure enough, as on nearly every Sunday, Gabe was surrounded by children chattering away, those cherubic lips smiling up at him, chubby arms held out, begging to be picked up and held close in those strong arms. Gabe was smiling, laughing, and Renee felt her heart choke as he leaned down to gather a little boy up and lift him into a hug. She watched the child’s baby hands pat at Gabe’s beard.

He caught one of the boy’s tiny hands, engulfing it in his huge paw, and nibbled at the wriggling fingers. The boy threw his head back and chortled, then offered his other hand for equal treatment. Gabe’s roar of laughter drifted to her through the glass doors. The sound was a balm to Renee’s senses, and she drew it in.

“He’s so good with children.”

So much for the balm. “Andrea—”

“Really, he should be given the chance to be a father. He has so much to give …”

It was true. They both did. But they’d never even tried … never given themselves the chance …

Shouldn’t I have had the chance to be a mother, to feel our child growing within me? To hold in my arms the most precious gift God can
give
a man and woman?

Renee reined in the tormented questions that stampeded her heart, tumbling over each other with such speed that it made her dizzy.
Stop it. Just stop it.
She’d gone down this path so many times. Too many times. And it always ended in the same place. Desperation. Sorrow. Hopelessness.

She was so tired of it all. So tired she could hardly bear it.

Renee didn’t waste another minute. She stepped around Andrea, not even caring that the woman was still talking, and went to pull her car door open. She slid in, turned the ignition, and finally, blessedly, she was free.

As she pulled onto the street, she took one look back in the rearview mirror … and wished she hadn’t.

Andrea was talking to Gabe, pointing after Renee’s car. From what Renee could see of her husband’s expression, she knew she hadn’t escaped at all. Gained time, maybe. Time to think, to try and understand what seemed crazy, even to herself.

But escape? Not even close.

A
PRIL
1995, S
UNDAY AFTERNOON

RENEE LOVED THE BASEMENT OF THEIR HOUSE.

They’d bought the house almost six months ago, moving from the apartment they’d lived in since they were married. Renee discovered she had a flair for decorating the rooms, and she delighted in changing the house into their home. Gabe loved working in their large backyard.

In many ways, their house had become a haven for each of them. And that’s what she’d needed today: a haven.

She had been sitting on the couch in the basement for hours. Just sitting. Not thinking. Not praying. Just sitting. And waiting. For the sound of Gabe’s car pulling into the driveway.

When it finally came, she listened as his car door closed … his steps sounded on the walkway, the stairs … then his key scraped in the door. She drew a deep breath as he came inside and tossed his things onto the counter.

“Renee?”

“Down here.”

He paused on the stairs to the basement when he saw her curled up on the couch, a comforter pulled over her. The cushion sagged as he sat beside her, and she turned to meet his gaze. His smile was hesitant as he studied her.

Renee laid her hand over his where it rested on the cushion. He turned his palm to hers, surrounding her hand with those broad, powerful fingers.

“You okay?”

She appreciated the way he asked it. Not as if he thought she was going nuts, but more as though he was offering to listen if she wanted. And she did.