Chapter Twenty-two #2
“I know, Daddy. But you weren’t there. Cyrus wasn’t a good husband.”
“Or maybe you weren’t a supportive wife.”
That cuts to the bone. Because I was. I may not have loved Cyrus as deeply as a woman should love the man she married.
But I most certainly was supportive. I did things I didn’t necessarily like doing but thought were what good wives should do.
Marriage was all about compromise. Right?
And I was a good wife, keeping him fed and his house clean.
I tolerated his drinking. His weekends away with the guys.
His increasing disdain toward Amelia. I might have even continued tolerating those things, mainly because I didn’t see myself earning enough of a living to support me and my daughter.
In hindsight, it’s become clear I was the only one making compromises. And it was a sheer stroke of luck that we divorced when we did. And especially that he initiated it and did everything he could to accelerate it. A fact Cyrus is surely regretting to this very day.
“He had issues, Dad.”
He laughs. “Men aren’t perfect. You have to allow for that in a marriage. Unless he lifted his hand to you. Did he?”
“He never hit me, if that’s what you’re asking. But near the end, I thought he might be capable of it.”
“You can’t divorce on the thought of what someone might do, Kenna. Did you even go to counseling?”
“He… he had a gambling problem. Did he tell you that when he called? I assume not. He had this guy coming after him because he owed over a hundred thousand dollars. What does the Bible say about gambling?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. Because I know my father is strictly against all kinds of gambling, not just the money-on-sports or betting-on-poker kind.
“Christians are encouraged to be content with what they have rather than risking it on chance. The Bible promotes gaining wealth through honest work, not luck. Gambling leads to greed, risk of addiction, and potential for exploitation.”
“Exactly. Daddy, Cyrus was addicted. And he’s definitely greedy.”
“You could have stayed and waited it out. He could have been helped. The Lord could have helped him.”
My head shakes over and over until I realize he can’t see me.
“I couldn’t have stayed. His gambling put Amelia and me in danger.
” Something that still hasn’t changed. I fail to reveal that little tidbit.
“I didn’t have a choice. Amelia comes first.” I lean against the wall and sigh.
“Amelia will always come first. And what’s done is done.
” I hesitate, then ask, “Did he say anything else?”
He grumbles, knowing there’s nothing he can do. It’s the same inglorious grumble he made when I told him I was going to college. And when he found out about Amelia.
“He asked if I knew where to find you. But being as we haven’t spoken in years, I had no idea.”
My spine stiffens. He called my dad to find out where I am?
He’s getting desperate. Then again, he wasn’t desperate enough to spill the beans on my sordid past. I think about what today signifies and know that he might well be reaching that breaking point.
He contacted my dad, but he didn’t make good on his threat.
Was that just a passive-aggressive way of letting me know he’s not done with me?
“Kenna? Are you still there?”
“I’m here. I just don’t know what to say. If you can’t accept me for who I am and what I’ve done, I’m not sure we have anything left to talk about.”
“It’s not too late to accept Jesus into your heart.”
“I have, Daddy. Jesus is a part of my life. Maybe not in the way you’d like him to be, but he is.”
“Some of us have different opinions on exactly what that means.”
“And therein lies our issue.”
He blows out a long, drawn-out breath. “I’m going now. I have to work on Sunday’s sermon. And you’ve given me a lot of inspiration.”
The way he says it tells me it won’t be chock full of praise and accolades.
“Okay. But, Daddy… you can call me anytime.”
The phone goes dead. Just as he didn’t say hello, there’s no goodbye.
Tears I didn’t even know were falling drop onto my shirt. Maybe it’s time for me to accept that our relationship may be irrevocably broken. Which means I shouldn’t be so concerned about Cyrus going to him about my past. My present. My anything.
But no matter what my father thinks of me, the real reason I don’t want Cyrus to blow the whistle is that I do care what my dad’s congregation thinks of him. Even after all his disapproval and condemnation, I still love him. And I can’t have his congregation thinking less of him all because of me.
So give in to Cyrus’s demands and make it go away, a voice echoes in my head.
I shake away the thought. I’ve spent hundreds of sleepless nights thinking of the repercussions. It’s a trap I refuse to fall into again. If I give in a second time, Cyrus will just keep coming back for more. He’ll never leave me alone. And I’ll never be free of him.
It’s a no-win situation. I’m between the proverbial rock and hard place.
I go down to my bathroom, wipe my eyes, and refresh my makeup.
When I go through the door to the kitchen, everyone is sitting at the table waiting for me.
Straightening my shoulders, I approach the empty seat and paste on a smile. Carter watches me, knowing it’s not real. As I slowly lower myself into the chair, he tries to load my plate, but I stop him. “I’m not really all that hungry. You go ahead.”
Instead of eating, I fill my glass with the wine I contributed to dinner—a souvenir from my day trip with Allie—drinking my calories instead of eating them. Because, why not? I’m already a failure on so many levels.