Chapter Ten
Two nurses dressed in green surgical gowns briskly stepped across the family waiting area. Both women raised their eyes expectantly,
only to be disappointed as the nurses walked through the room without pausing. It was too soon. They both knew it would be
hours yet before they would receive word of Billy’s condition, but they were looking for a miracle, anything to end the interminable
waiting.
Billy had been wheeled on the long stretcher from his room to the surgical floor two hours before. Betty had broken into tears
as she walked beside her son. Although drugged and woozy, Billy had attempted to assure his mother and sent a pleading glance
toward Skye. But tears shimmered in her own eyes, and she looked away, unable to respond to his silent plea. Skye had wanted
to be both supportive and encouraging to Betty, but her whole world had come crashing down on her and she was as desperately
in need of emotional strength as Betty.
Now the two women sat together, yet very alone. Unable to boost each other’s confidence, they didn’t speak. Unable to comfort each other, they didn’t touch. Unable to smile, they avoided looking at each other. The nervous uneasiness stretched between them to a fine, taut line.
As time progressed, every minute, every hour, became a battle waged against fear. Skye read her Bible, seeking solace, but
the comforting words only skimmed the surface of her mind. The hurt of Jordan’s deception blocked the comfort of God’s words.
She didn’t know if Jordan was his name or if it was really Dan, and yet he was the man she had agreed to marry. A man she
had insisted she could trust.
When a tall, blond-haired man entered the waiting area, Skye felt Betty stiffen.
“Bill.” The name was wrenched from her in an outpouring of incredulity and relief. She sprang to her feet and locked her arms
around him.
Skye recognized the stranger immediately. It could only be Billy’s father. The sparkling blue eyes and broad forehead strongly
resembled those of young Billy. Skye’s throat constricted at the sight of the two entwined in each other’s arms, tears streaming
down their faces.
“I’ve been a fool. Can you forgive me?” he pleaded, his voice urgent. “I didn’t know about the accident. I swear I’d have
come home had I known.”
Possessing a strength Skye would never have suspected, Betty calmly related the details of the accident and the events leading
to the surgery. The fear that had sparked like electricity between them only a few minutes before was gone. This was what
Betty needed to face the ordeal of Billy’s surgery. Neither Skye nor anyone else could replace the presence of this man, her
husband.
The scene was poignant and tender. The two needed privacy to speak, and after an awkward introduction Skye slipped unnoticed
from the waiting room.
The small chapel was empty, she noticed gratefully. Here there could be no facade, and, staring into the distance, she allowed the acid tears to fall, burning her cheeks. She prayed again for Billy, her voice a hushed whisper, and for a long while afterward sat silently and meditatively.
“How could Jordan lie to me like that, Lord?” she asked as all the pain of his deception rushed forward. It was the same agonizing
question she had uttered a thousand times during the past few days. It was ironic that he could have been so offended by her
small deception and at the same time be grossly misleading her. From this point forward she knew she couldn’t trust him or
his love. With everything that had happened, she had to believe he’d offered marriage as a means of getting her to agree to
sign a recording contract with his company. And all their talk about trust. Skye buried her face in her hands. If Jordan had
any love for her at all, then he would have told her the truth.
How could she have been so wrong about him? Perhaps the hurt wouldn’t be so intense if she hadn’t bared her soul to him. The
details of Glen’s death that she’d shared had been a measurement of her love. Jordan couldn’t possibly love her, she realized.
Carrying the charade to this extreme proved his avowed love could only represent a shadow of what God meant their love to
be.
After Glen and her father had died, Skye felt she would never again experience such deep emotional pain. Now she was forced
to admit her error. No physical pain could possibly hurt this much. Straightening, she wiped her face dry and swallowed the
lump in her throat. She knew what she must do.
The swish of air came from behind, indicating someone had entered the chapel.
The tiny hairs at the base of her neck rose in recognition.
It was Jordan. He had said he’d come, but Skye had half expected him to lie about that, too.
She didn’t turn around, wanting to delay seeing him as long as possible.
The sound of each footstep advancing toward her was magnified a hundred times until Skye lowered her head to reduce the deafening noise.
With her eyes shut tightly, she prayed for control and the strength to do what she must.
When Jordan sat beside her in the wooden pew, Skye jerked slightly with reaction. This was going to be worse than she’d imagined.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he whispered tenderly, and with familiar ease slipped his arm around her shoulder.
Skye couldn’t tolerate his touch; it made things all the more impossible. Trembling, she broke the contact and stood shakily,
her feet almost faltering as she left the chapel with him.
“We need to talk. Can we go someplace?” she asked breathlessly. Glancing briefly at him, she didn’t quite meet his eyes.
Jordan’s gaze made an appraising sweep of her face and the tiny lines of strain about her mouth. Her eyes held a troubled
light.
“The cafeteria?” he questioned.
Skye nodded and led the way to the elevator, pushing the button to the basement floor. They made the descent silently, the
only sound the almost indiscernible hum of the elevator. The large metal doors glided open and Skye stepped forward, walking
directly into the cafeteria and finding a table while Jordan purchased two cups of coffee. Accepting the Styrofoam cup, Skye
stared into the steaming liquid rather than meet Jordan’s eyes.
“Are you that worried about Billy?” he asked suddenly, the charcoal gray of his eyes regarding her steadily.
“Not anymore.” Her voice sounded shaky, and she was striving for a quiet firmness. “Billy’s father came. I suppose you met
him in the waiting room.” She glanced briefly at Jordan. She wanted to memorize every line of his rugged features and at the
same time erase his existence from her life.
“Jordan,” she began shakily, clenching her drink with both hands and avoiding looking at him. “I have something important I need to tell you.”
“Sure; what is it?” His hands gently cupped hers, his voice tender and concerned.
The hypocrisy of his concern gave her the courage to continue. “I’ve done some soul searching this weekend and . . .” She
hesitated. Bile rose from her stomach, and for a moment she thought she might be sick.
“I’ve tried phoning several times. Where were you?”
She wanted to watch his reaction when she told him, but was incapable of looking higher than the knot of his tie. How silly
it was to note how the dark blue silk sharply contrasted with the pale blue of his shirt. “The cemetery,” she murmured, returning
her gaze to her coffee cup.
Jordan removed the cup from her trembling fingers as her gaze followed his action. The finger lifting her chin brought her
eyes level with his.
“What were you doing in a graveyard?” he asked, his voice tight and clipped.
“I had to talk to Glen,” she said haltingly, her voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze narrowed, pinning her. “Glen is dead. You can’t talk to a dead man.”
“Glen is gone, I realize that,” she said tightly, hoping he would see the subtle difference. “But his love for me is eternal,
just as mine is for him.” Rather than confront Jordan with what she’d learned, she’d decided to end it by putting forth an
argument for which he had no response. She had no desire to listen to his explanations for fear they would only be more lies.
“Stop speaking of him as if he were a living, breathing person. The man’s been dead and buried for eight years. It’s time
you owned up to that.”
She ignored his words and spoke with a grim kind of calm. “I was kidding myself when I accepted your marriage proposal, Jordan. There will never be another man for me. I’ve heard of women who can only love one man in their lifetime. I didn’t realize until this weekend that I was one of them.”
When she glanced at him briefly she saw that the color had drained from his face.
“I’m sorry,” she finished weakly.
“Yeah, sure. I bet you’re real sorry.” The aggression in his voice aroused the attention of others sitting nearby. Many stopped
to stare at them curiously. Jordan ignored them. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, Skye, but by heaven there had better
be more explanation than this boloney.” His hands gripped her wrists. “If what you say is true, then what was all that talk
about wanting children?”
“I’ve always loved children. I guess it’s only natural to want one of my own, but I could never desecrate Glen’s love for
me. I can’t marry you, Jordan. I belong to Glen. I always will.”
His eyes blasted her a look as frigid as the Arctic wind.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” she whispered.
He released both her wrists at once, as if he found her touch repulsive. His face was rigid as though unwilling to show any
emotion or reaction.
Skye could barely breathe, the tension mounting as the silence continued.
“Under the circumstances, I can’t accept this,” she said, sounding pitifully weak. She slid the ring from her finger and held
it out to him.
An eternity passed before he accepted the diamond. His hand closed over the edge of the table, and he shoved his chair outward,
jerking himself upright.