Chapter 13
Aneka
“What is this I hearabout you cavorting through town with Caleb McKnight?”
Dad’s voice boomed through the phone. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and loaded an aluminum pod into my parents’ coffeemaker. Their hometown spy network was alarmingly efficient.
Caleb drove me home after our rendezvous by the lake, and I got to wake up with his warmth tucked next to me. We laughed about how the tight squeeze in my old, full-sized bed was still more space than the front seat of his truck and stayed there in sweet silence until unavoidable daylight forced itself through my blinds.
He had a video conference to take from home, and I had job listings to review before I went to his place for lunch. He wanted to cook for me. In the meantime, real life awaited.
I came downstairs to work in the enclosed patio turned sunroom before it got too hot, wanting to extend the peaceful start to my day. But then Dad called, so guess not. This conversation was inevitable, but I hoped to have a few more hours of personal revelry and at least have some coffee first.
“It’s too early in the day and too late in my life to be interrogated about how I spend my evenings,” I replied.
“Don’t take that tone with me. Morals aren’t bound by time. You’re a married woman,” Dad scolded.
“Barely. I’ve signed the papers. Elijah is going to sign them. I’m probably thirty days from finalizing the divorce,” I reminded him.
“Married is married.”
“I’m not discussing this with you. Who I spend time with isn’t anyone’s business.”
“It is when you’re gallivanting through Bliss, dancing with the town playboy.”
Gallivanting and cavorting. Wow. I’ve been busier than I thought.
I bit back the snide retort.
“Town playboy? Now I’m confused. I was out with Caleb.”
“Now isn’t the time to be cute,” he barked.
“No. It’s time for breakfast and time to find out what gossip about me has made its way to Central America.”
I loaded a pod into my parents’ coffee maker and hit the button. The machine kicked on with a hum that turned into a loud whirl. I turned away so I could hear my dad chastise me like I was still sixteen.
“Olivia Williams called your mother this morning. She’s organizing a supply drive for the elementary school and wants your mother’s help when we get back. She saw you leaving on a date with Caleb, and there are pictures of you two all over the internet. You’re drawing attention to yourselves. He’s always been like that. Nothing but a showboat,” Dad snapped.
“If that’s what you think, then you’ve obviously never known him well,” I said, already scraping the bottom of my patience.
“He was a hoodlum.”
I rubbed my forehead and took a deep breath. “What are we talking about? The problems he had as a teen? You and I both know he straightened his life out a long time ago. Look at what he’s doing for Bliss.”
“Having more money doesn’t mean he has more sense,” Dad charged back with thunderous bluster.
“What’s not sensible about starting and selling his own healthcare tech company that helps heal people and save lives? Or reviving Bliss after making a success of himself?”
Dad snorted. “None of that changes his character.”
“What’s so terrible? He got arrested thirty years ago as a kid, then—”
He cut me off. “Multiple times. Stealing cars. Shoplifting.”
“It’s funny. You’re always telling me to forgive Elijah even after all he’s done to me, even though marriage is allegedly so sacred, but Caleb did some stupid things years ago that had nothing to do with me, and you can’t let it go.” It was a struggle, but I kept my voice below the level where he’d accuse of me of raising my voice and being disrespectful.
Yet my control edged toward snapping. He was all about forgiveness as long as it fit with his idea of what my life should be.
“I don’t want you to throw your marriage away. That’s got nothing to do with Caleb McKnight. Or so I hope,” he finished with a mumble.
“I’m not throwing my marriage away. I’m ending it,” I said. “Actually, I’m recognizing when it’s already over. I’m not lying to Elijah. He moved on two years ago, and I’m done waiting for him to get his act together to restart my life. I don’t expect you to agree, but I’m an adult. You’ve expressed your opinion. Let it go.”
“I’m still your father. When I see you making a mistake, I’m going to tell you. All he’s ever done is thumb his nose at authority. Do you know he once told me that the Bible was nonsense? Only he used the filthy language. He called God a sadist and, well, I can’t even tell you this rest of it.” Dad’s voice grew more contemptuous with each word.
I carried my mug to the patio table and sat at my makeshift my workspace. “Teenagers say all kinds of things when they’re hurting.”
“You certainly never spoke to me like that or said such things.”
“I thought them.”
Dad snorted. “You’re just defending him.”
“No. I’ve thought all of those things and worse,” I explained, hoping the calmness in my voice might get him to simmer down. “I never said them because I didn’t want to disappoint you. Everyone has doubts.”
“He doesn’t have doubts. He’s not a believer, and he has no respect for those who are. You can’t possibly want to be with someone like that.”
I gazed at my parents’ carefully landscaped yard and sipped my hot brew without adding sugar or milk. I’d started drinking it that way a few years ago when I was trying to drop some middle-aged weight and grown used to the sharp bitterness waking me up every morning.
“You don’t know what he believes,” I charged, and my tongue tripped before I could admit that I didn’t either.
What if he didn’t have faith? Could I live with that? In my time as a minister’s wife, I stopped believing in the rules and regulations of the church. A lot of it seemed more like a spectacle to keep people shamed into attending and giving. I went through the expected motions, resisting the version of faith I saw in action at the church, but I still believed in God.
“He’s not right for you,” Dad insisted. “All this attention is only going to make things worse for you. People are talking.”
“People are always going to talk,” I replied with a laugh.
“That doesn’t bother you?” His voice pitched high with shock.
“I won’t stop seeing him because gossips have opinions or because you don’t like him.”
I married the man with Dad’s enthusiastic approval. Where did that get me?
The night before my wedding, I had doubts. Elijah had finished the seminary, and I was staring down the road at a future like my mother’s. Smiling at his side and being an extension of his ministry as a strong believer and his helpmeet. The familiarity of it all should have made it a more comfortable choice than it was. Instead, it felt like a mistake.
Dad reassured me. “You’ve picked a good man. He’s committed to God. That will keep him committed to you. Don’t let cold feet make you turn back on the right choice.”
And so I didn’t.
And my father was still full of opinions.
“Caleb McKnight isn’t good enough for you, and he knows it. He’s known it since the day he showed up there wanting to ask you out.”
I frowned. “He told me. What did you say to him?”
“He came around asking after you. You weren’t home, but I invited him in to ask his intentions. That’s when he showed me his true colors.”
“He just announced he didn’t believe in the Bible?” I asked.
“In the course of our conversation, yes.”
I wondered about his interpretation of events. “You never told me he came to see me.”
“I told your mother.”
My head ached at Dad’s circuitous defenses. “You should have at least told me.”
“You were a child, and I saw how girls fawned over him. Mr. Football Star. Mr. Popularity. He had a reputation for promiscuity. That’s not what I wanted for you.”
I held back my arguments again. The choices Dad made for me when I was young didn’t matter because I was no longer a teenage girl needing her father’s protection. Nor was I a rebellious girl seeking his approval.
“That was all a long time ago. Judge not, lest ye be judged.”
“Cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. We still must put away sin and lust and walk in righteousness.”
“And who decides what that looks like? You?”
“God.”
“And you know what God thinks? How he judges me or Caleb?”
Dad didn’t waver. “His laws are clear and unchanging.”
“Well, life isn’t. I’ve learned that in spades.”
“Aneka—” he boomed again.
I knew that tone. It presaged a sermon.
“Dad,” I cut in. “I’m well past forty. You’ve made your point, but I’m done arguing about my personal life. Was there some other reason you called?”
“No. I wanted to check on you. You might be older, but so am I.”
Of course, he always would be, and to him, that meant he thought he always knew better than I did. I loved him, but that would never change.
A breeze carried across the yard, rustling the flowers and papers I’d stacked on the table. I put my mug down before they escaped.
“I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine. Better than fine,” I said and smiled because it was true. “I’m happy. Isn’t that what’s important?”
Dad hesitated. “True happiness comes from doing what’s right.”
“I am. You just don’t see it that way, and if you don’t trust me to run my life, I don’t know what we can say to one another.”
“It’s not a matter of trusting you. Ca—”
“Dad, I need to go. I have a busy day planned.”
“You’re running off because you’re not getting your way.”
“No, Dad, you’re arguing because you’re not getting yours. I guess we’re both stubborn, but I really need to go,” I countered as diplomatically as I could manage.
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I downed the rest of my coffee and tried to scrub away his judgments and recapture my joyous mood.
The day started off too happy to have spiraled so quickly.
* * *
“That’s an interestingensemble,” I said, sweeping my eyes up and down Caleb’s body. His frame filled the doorway of Bliss mansion, and he wore a crisp, French blue oxford untucked over cut-off sweats.
I lifted to my toes and brushed a kiss on his cheek. He smelled spicy and clean. The scent calmed my nerves. I wanted to rewind my day and start over, settled into cool sheets with my face buried in his neck.
Instead, I stepped into his house and gave him a quick hug.
“Business up top, party down below. It’s the way of the world these days.”
“Nice knees,” I said.
He swept his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a lingering embrace and a less chaste kiss. I giggled into his mouth as his tongue explored mine. My stomach turned to jelly again. He had that effect every time he got within five feet of me.
We walked to the back of the house, and as I got closer to the kitchen, the sweet and savory smell of sauteing onions made my stomach growl.
“What are you cooking?”
“I grilled some skirt steak and chicken for fajitas and made fresh guacamole.”
I moaned. “Oh, my God. Guacamole is my kryptonite.”
“I’m aware. Honey buns, guacamole, and hot biscuits.”
“You know me so well.”
He did. He remembered things about me and knew what I liked, what I dreamed of, and what worried me. I knew many of the same things about him. But as much as I hated it, my talk with Dad had me wondering if I knew the things that mattered.
Caleb poured me a glass of iced tea, and I watched him finish cooking, not sure how to broach the subject.
“My dad called this morning. News of our night out has already reached Panama, if you can believe it.”
He stiffened and laughed. “The gossip mill has always churned out more than the old dairy.”
I nodded but said nothing else. Caleb wiped his hands on a towel and leaned on the counter before continuing.
“He can’t be happy. He didn’t like me when we were in high school, and the few times I’ve run into him since I’ve been back, not much seems to have changed.”
“I asked him about the day you came to the house.”
Caleb cocked a brow. “And what did he say?”
“That you called God sadistic and said the Bible was nonsense in some kind of filthy way he wouldn’t deign to repeat,” I explained and forced a laugh.
He snorted. “I was trying to provoke him, but there’s more to it than that.”
I widened my eyes in prompting.
“He tried to tell me God had a plan for my life, all the while weaving in that the plan for me certainly did not involve you. Surprise! God is directing traffic conveniently in the direction he wants it to go, and it’s all meant to be. Everything in my life brought me to that chair for his lecture,” he said.
“Of course.” I sighed.
“Not going to lie. It pissed me off. How is it a grand plan for my mother to be a recovering addict? Or for my dad to land in prison? All so he could tell me to stay away from you,” he grumbled. “That’s humanity, not God. Saying it’s meant to be always sounds like trying to get people to accept shit circumstances without complaint. Stuff your feelings and go on and on about God’s mysterious ways. I hated it then, and I still do.”
I absorbed his speech and found the courage to ask the question dogging me. “So you don’t believe in God?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?” he asked.
My chin jerked back. “Believing doesn’t automatically make you a good or bad person, but the question is core to your worldview. That matters.”
“Except that regardless of what you believe, what matters is the impact you have on the world. Are you helping or hurting people? Faith or not, you have to look at your life and figure out why it’s not the way you want it. That’s usually a lot of very human things. Choices, circumstances, systems,” Caleb explained. “You make changes. If faith makes that easier, fantastic, but what matters is how you show up and what impact you have in the real world.”
I didn’t wholly disagree with him. It was like Vanessa ghosting me. She said it was out of righteousness, but really, our friendship meant less to her than her social standing. But I couldn’t buy into the idea that we are all on our own, wrestling with our imperfect humanity.
“And thinking God is a sadist?”
He rolled his eyes. “I told your dad how people say the bad things that happen are a test of your faith and said any God who operates like that is a sadist. Kicking you when you’re down and expecting fealty for it.”
“Fealty? That’s a big word.”
I raised a brow, and he chuckled.
“I’m paraphrasing seventeen-year-old me.”
“But forty-six-year-old you still believes that?”
“Yes, but I don’t think that’s what true faith is. If there is a God, he or she or they must be more than a convenient way to get compliance from others you think are weak or sinful.”
I agreed, but I hated that his experience of believers was so negative.
“My faith matters to me.”
He stopped slicing limes and looked up. “I know it does, but I can’t see how you’ve hung onto it with all that’s happened.”
“When I found out Elijah was cheating on me again, I knew I would have to leave him this time,” I explained, and Caleb’s eyes widened at the implications. “This wasn’t his first affair. After the first few times, we went to counseling. The kids were little. He swore he would do anything to keep our family together. I believed him. I thought that was behind us. When I found out... I felt like a fool. Like I’d stuck around for nothing.”
“That’s not true. Your kids needed you. Both of you.”
“That’s what I tell myself.” Over and over, I wanted to think my choices made a difference for Jeremy and Naomi.
“You’re a mom. You’re their champion,” he interjected with a smile. “You’re probably the best.”
He had no real way of knowing, but the compliment buoyed me anyway.
“I still don’t know if it was the right decision. I might never know,” I said and sighed. “I felt guilty and ashamed and stupid and scared, too. Part of me stayed because I couldn’t imagine what my life would look like outside the cookie-cutter image I thought was so important. But when Elijah sent me flowers with another woman’s name on them...”
I closed my eyes, and the sight of the flimsy card with his handwriting appeared on the backs of my lids. A mix up at a floral shop, and my marriage was over.
“It hit me in the face. I was so scared. I got down on my knees, and I prayed. And this sense of peace settled into me. I knew it would be okay. I knew God wouldn’t have me in that spot if there wasn’t a way out.”
Every difficulty ahead of me felt like a challenge I could take on instead of a reason to stay stuck. Without my faith, I would have been too scared.
Caleb didn’t have to make the same choices for the same reasons, but I hoped he could understand mine. He dropped the knife and came around the counter to where I stood. He touched my back and rubbed until I relaxed.
“It makes sense. Faith in God is a life raft when you lose faith in yourself and don’t know what to do. It helps you hold on until you figure it out,” he said. “You’ve figured it out, and you’re getting divorced when the time is right.”
“It sounds like you believe in yourself more than God,” I ventured.
“God helps those who help themselves,” he said, locking eyes with me. “That bothers you?”
I pressed my lips tight, unable to answer. I’d had a crisis of faith myself, yet the alternative seemed nihilistic. “Religion and faith were something I put on like an outfit on Sundays for so long. What’s really what I think versus what’s the acceptable answer as a minister’s daughter and wife? I’m still sorting it out, but it might.”
I didn’t want to lie. His answers unsettled me.
I stared into his eyes. Both of us searched for understanding.
“I’ve had dark moments, and people have shown up in time to save me. They were a miracle. Maybe God put them in my path. Or maybe people have to decide to be miracles because there’s no magic and we’re all on our own. That’s why I’m not sure it matters. Either way, you show up for yourself and other people.”
His words sank in. I turned into him, sliding my hands up and down his biceps.
“You’ll know them by their works, right? What people do is what matters, not what they say they believe,” he argued.
I chuckled. “Now you’re quoting the Bible at me. Second man to do that today.”
He wrinkled his nose but smiled with a shrug. “It seems the best way to make my point.”
“I suppose so.” I sighed and cleared my throat. “What my father did to you was mean and not helpful, and I’m sorry.”
“He was protecting his baby girl.”
“He could have done that without using God and the Bible to make you feel like crap,” I replied.
“Your dad has his way. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
He pulled away and returned to our meal, squeezing fresh lime juice into a bowl of mashed avocado. Then, he stirred in chopped red onion and minced jalapeno and garlic.
“Voila.”
Caleb pushed the bowl toward me, and I scooped up the concoction on a blue corn tortilla chip.
Creamy, salty, avocado perfection.
“Damn, that’s tasty.”
“See. This is how I lure you to the dark side. Guacamole.”
It was a joke that didn’t feel like a joke. Caleb worked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, neck tense.
“You’re a good man.”
He squared his gaze with mine. “I know. I have my moments, but I’ve never seriously doubted that. It just took me a while to grow into myself.”
The depth of his self-belief inspired me, as did all the things he did for the town, for the people in it, for humanity through his business. He didn’t go through the motions. Caleb was about actions and honesty, and that’s what lured me in. But in my heart, I wondered if his lack of professed faith mattered more to me than I could admit.