Chapter 4
Simeon glanced surreptitiously at the clock. He needed to leave for Abigail’s doctor appointment, but there was something Adam was holding back from him. His usually candid client had seemed preoccupied, not saying much about anything today.
“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” Simeon tried one more time.
“What? Ah, no.” Adam stood. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Simeon answered, though the man may as well have said, thanks for nothing, for all the good Simeon had done him today.
“Can I ask you something?” Adam didn’t look at Simeon as he asked.
“Of course.” Simeon got to his feet as well.
“Do you think— I mean, it’s not wrong to talk to someone online, right?”
Simeon kept his groan to himself. Whenever someone started a sentence with it’s not wrong, it usually meant they were looking for his permission to do something they already knew they shouldn’t. “I suppose that depends. What do you mean by talking? And by someone?”
Adam looked sheepish. “I mean, I met this woman—well, reconnected actually. We went to high school together. And we’ve been talking a lot online. And she just makes me feel . . . I don’t know . . . Good about myself, you know. Like Sheila used to make me feel.”
Simeon waited to see if Adam would pick up on what he’d just said on his own.
“I mean, that’s not cheating, right?” Adam held his hands out. “She’s in Canada. So it’s not like we’d ever do anything. We’re just talking.”
“Like you used to talk to Sheila?”
Adam nodded. “Yeah. Like that.”
“And is there a reason you don’t talk to Sheila like that anymore?”
Adam laughed. “Let’s see. Three kids might have something to do with it.”
Simeon winced internally. Three times, he and Abigail had thought . . .
“Plus she just got this promotion,” Adam added, “so she’s working long hours. It’s not like she has a moment to spare for me.”
“So you feel like your wife doesn’t have time for you. And you’re seeking intimacy somewhere else.”
“What?” Adam crossed his arms in front of him. “No. I told you, Lisa lives in Canada. It’s not like I’m going to fly up there to sleep with her or something.”
“There are other kinds of intimacy.” Simeon managed to keep his voice even, though it felt like it’d been months since he’d experienced any kind of intimacy with his own wife. “Talking is one of the deepest forms of intimacy. And the basis for all other kinds of intimacy.”
“I don’t—” Adam uncrossed his arms and dropped back into the chair. “So you’re saying I can’t talk to Lisa anymore?”
Simeon retook his seat as well. “I’m not making rules here. I’m saying, you need to think about what it means to be faithful to your wife. And right now, it sounds like talking to Lisa is hurting your relationship with Sheila. She’s the one you need to be talking to. I really think it would be beneficial if she came to an appointment with you at some point. Have you told her yet that you’re coming?”
Adam shook his head.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.” Ah, those words. How many times had he said them to Abigail about the miscarriages she was so determined to hide from everyone else?
“I know.” Adam crossed and uncrossed his leg. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her everything about my past yet.”
“I understand.” Simeon adjusted his position in his seat. “We can work into that slowly. But I want you to think about this: if you want to have true intimacy with her, holding back the truth isn’t going to help.”
“And if your wife told you she had a past like mine?” Adam stared him down, crossing his arms again. “What would you do?”
Simeon nearly laughed at the thought of his sweet wife having a secret past. But even if she did, it wouldn’t change how he felt about her. “I’d remind her God has forgiven her,” Simeon said. “Just like he’s forgiven you. He’s made you a new creation. You aren’t that old man anymore.”
Adam sighed and dragged a hand through his closely shaved hair. “Yeah. I know. It’s just hard to believe sometimes.”
“That’s the thing about grace.” Simeon smiled. “It seems unbelievable, but it’s true nonetheless.”
Adam nodded, his expression pensive.
“Just think about bringing her,” Simeon said. “Not talking to each other is about the worst thing you can do for your marriage.” He should know.
Adam stood. “I didn’t bring this up earlier because I knew this was what you were going to say. But it was what I needed to hear. Thank you.” He held out a hand, and Simeon shook it.
“That’s what I’m here for.” He ushered Adam out, then rushed back to his desk to shut down his computer and grab his keys. If he hurried, he should make it home just in time to pick Abigail up for her doctor appointment.
Outside, he jumped into his SUV and rolled down the windows, both so he could enjoy the warm May air and so he could clear his head after Adam’s bombshell. As much as he and Abigail were struggling right now, he couldn’t imagine wanting to find comfort in another woman. Even on their hardest days, she was still his wife, and as long as he had anything to say about it, that would never change.
He blew out a breath, steering through the quaint downtown, past his brother Joseph’s veterinary clinic, Daisy’s Pie Shop, Henderson’s Art Gallery, the Book Den—where Abigail worked several days a week. As he pulled up to a stop sign, his eyes went to the river flowing behind the stores. The early May warmth had drawn people to the riverwalk, and Simeon’s lips lifted as he caught sight of a couple swinging a young boy between them. The boy’s squealing giggle reached through Simeon’s open window, and he chuckled. He remembered his own parents swinging him like that as a kid.
Behind him, a car honked, and Simeon jumped, pressing his foot to the accelerator with an apologetic wave over his shoulder. The boy’s giggle followed him down the block, and Simeon wondered if he and Abigail would ever have that experience.
If it is your will, Lord, he prayed for what felt like the millionth time. Please bless us with a child.
He let out a breath as he turned onto their street and pulled into the driveway of the two-story home they’d purchased because it had enough room to start a family.
He left the SUV running and jumped out to collect Abigail. If she was ready to go, they’d make it to the doctor just in time.
But she wasn’t waiting for him in the living room off the small entryway.
“Abigail,” he called. “Sorry I’m late.”
When there was no answer, he strode to the kitchen at the back of the house. But she wasn’t there or in the dining room either.
“Abigail?” He jogged back to the entry and took the stairs two at a time. If she was still in bed, they’d never make it to the appointment, and it would probably be at least another couple of months before they could get on the schedule again.
He passed the two smaller bedrooms—one of which they’d painted a light green when they’d first decided to start trying so it’d be one less thing they had to worry about once they had a baby on the way. The other served as a home office for him for now, although the plan had always been to eventually turn it into a second child’s bedroom and maybe convert their one-car garage into an office.
He continued past the home’s single full bathroom—the real estate agent had joked that they’d better have boys if they were going to live in a house with only one bathroom, but they’d both dismissed the concern. Everything else about the house made it the perfect place to raise their family, and they weren’t going to let a lack of bathrooms stop them.
“Abigail?” Simeon stopped in the doorway to their bedroom.
Abigail sat propped in the bed, her computer on her lap, staring at the screen with her brow furrowed, fingers flying across the keys. She didn’t look up.
He took a step into the room. “Are you ready to—”
Her head jerked up, and her eyes landed on him a split second before she looked back to her screen and then slammed the computer shut. “You scared me.” Her voice shook a little, and her eyes were too wide. She clutched the computer to her chest as if it held state secrets.
Simeon knew guilt when he saw it.
But guilt over what?
“What were you doing?” He nodded to the computer.
“I— Nothing. Shopping.”
Acid rose in the back of Simeon’s throat at the obvious lie. No one typed like that when they were shopping.
It’s not wrong to talk to someone online, right? Adam’s question flashed in front of Simeon’s eyes like a fluorescent sign.
“What are you doing home?” Abigail asked.
“Doctor appointment, remember?” he answered dully. He couldn’t take his eyes off that computer.
“I texted you.” Abigail dropped her gaze to the blankets balled at the bottom of the bed. “The appointment got canceled.”
“Oh.” Simeon pulled out his phone. He hadn’t had time to check his messages all day. “Sure enough, there it is. When is it rescheduled for?” He tapped on the calendar on his phone.
Abigail was silent, and he looked up. She had dropped the computer back onto her lap and was running a hand back and forth over the cover.
“Abigail?”
She looked up at him, her eyes tortured. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Can’t what?” He moved to the bed and sat carefully on his side. Although they slept together in it every night, it had been months since she’d welcomed so much as a kiss from him. He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d held hands.
“I can’t go to the doctor.” A tear trickled down Abigail’s cheek, and Simeon moved closer. Whatever she had been doing on the computer, she was his wife, and he couldn’t bear to see her hurt.
“Why not?” he asked gently, lifting one hand off her computer and cradling it in his. She let it lie there limply, but at least she didn’t pull away.
“Because.” Abigail sighed, and he was pretty sure that was all she was going to say. But he waited anyway.
“Because,” she finally started again. “Either she’s going to say we can’t have children.” Tears splatted against her cheeks like raindrops on sand. “Or she’s going to say everything is fine and we can try again. And—” She gulped in a shuddering breath. “And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”
“Oh, Abigail.” Simeon reached for her, but she stood and paced to the window.
He tamped down his frustration. Why would she never let him comfort her?
He forced himself to push aside the hurt and go to her. She kept her back to him, running her finger over a trail of dust on the windowsill.
“We don’t have to go to the doctor,” he said, resting his hands gently on her shoulders.
She nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” She shrugged out of his hold. “I’m going to go shower.”
She sped toward the hallway, leaving her computer on the bed. Simeon eyed it.
Had she been talking to someone? Someone who wasn’t him?
He took a step toward the bed but then stopped himself. He trusted his wife.
And anyway, he had a vehicle to turn off.
Abigail cracked her eyes open. The room was dark, but something had woken her. She readjusted her pillow and closed her eyes again. But something was different—missing.
She didn’t hear Simeon’s breaths.
She reached behind her, toward his side of the bed. But her hand didn’t bump into his back. She opened her eyes again and rolled over. Simeon’s side of the bed was empty.
Maybe he’d gotten up to use the bathroom.
But the bedroom door was closed, and he always left it open when he used the bathroom in the middle of the night—ever since the time he’d run smack into it in the dark and broken his toe.
She rolled back to her side of the bed and picked up her phone to check the time. 3:20 a.m. Simeon was an early bird—but not that early.
Abigail closed her eyes again. Whatever he was doing, he probably didn’t want to see her right now anyhow. Not after the way she’d pushed him away earlier when he’d been so sweet and understanding. She had longed to fall into his arms and cling to him and never let go. But that would have been unfair to him. After spending the day writing about all of her sins—all of the reasons God was punishing them now—she couldn’t just let Simeon hold her and tell her everything would be okay.
She could only be thankful that he hadn’t read what she’d been writing when he got home. She was usually so careful not to let him see her working on it, but she hadn’t heard him come in.
She reached for her nightstand to reassure herself that her computer was still there. She’d shut it down before bed but had been too tired to stash it in her dresser drawer.
Her hand hit bare wood, and she slid it a little farther. Still nothing.
She propped herself onto an elbow and turned on the small lamp at the back of the nightstand. She blinked against the glare. But even through her bleary vision, she could see the computer was no longer there.
Her heart wedged itself against her throat, but she told herself to calm down. Maybe she had put it in her drawer after all.
It wasn’t like it could have walked away on its own.
And Simeon wouldn’t have . . .
She flung herself out of bed and dropped to the floor in front of her dresser, yanking open the bottom drawer. She rifled through the pile of jeans, but the computer wasn’t there.
The way Simeon had been looking at it when she’d closed it earlier . . . like he thought she was doing something wrong. And her lie about shopping had been so thin.
But he wouldn’t really snoop on her, would he?
She sprang to her feet, suddenly wide awake. If he read it . . .
Her feet slapped against the hardwood floor as she launched herself toward the door.
No, no, no. Please don’t let him read it.
Simeon’s office door was closed, but soft light trickled out from under it.
That doesn’t mean anything, she tried to reassure herself. It wasn’t terribly unusual for Simeon to get emergency calls from clients who needed to talk in the middle of the night. She paused to listen at the door, struggling to hear over the sound of her own choppy breaths.
Silence.
Abigail lifted a shaky hand to the doorknob, easing it slowly open. The door glided silently for a few inches before it let out a loud squawk that made her jump.
Across the room, Simeon sprang up from the old recliner next to the window, lifting her laptop as if it were a shield.
In the dim light, Abigail couldn’t make out his expression. Was it guilt? Or revulsion?
“What are you doing?” Abigail’s cry was too shrill, and she rushed across the room to grab the computer out of his hands, spinning it toward herself. It only took one glance to confirm that it was her manuscript on the screen. “Did you read this?”
“Is it a book?” Simeon asked. “Did you write it?”
Abigail swallowed. “Simeon, I can explain.”
“Man alive, Abigail.” Simeon shoved a hand through his hair, his laugh incredulous. “I thought you were having an affair or something.”
“It’s not what—” Abigail cut off as the full impact of his words hit her. “You thought what?” She closed the computer slowly and clutched it to her chest.
He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have— It’s just— The way things have been between us lately. And then you seemed so secretive about your computer earlier. And I had a client who—” He shook his head. “The point is, I’m sorry.”
“You thought I would cheat on you?” she asked dully.
“I know it was stupid.” Simeon took a hesitant step closer. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. Please forgive me.” He reached for her, but she stepped backwards.
It was easier to let him think she was upset with him than to stay here and risk him asking about what he’d read.
“I’m tired,” she mumbled. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Abigail—”
But she spun on her heel and scurried back to the bedroom. When she reached it, she waited for a moment to listen for his footsteps following her.
When she didn’t hear them, she yanked open her dresser drawer and buried the computer under a stack of jeans at the back.
Then she climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
But she couldn’t stop shivering.
Her secret was out now. And it was only a matter of time before Simeon sent her packing.