Chapter 10
Simeon closed his Bible and stared out his office window at the sunrise hues of muted gold reflecting off the Serenity River. It was a peaceful scene, the Bible passages he’d read had been about peace, and yet all he felt was turmoil.
He had messed up. Massively. He had pushed too hard and fast for adoption. He’d assumed it was what Abigail wanted—what she needed—but he should have made sure. He should have given her time to think about it, should have taken the time to talk to her more.
And now, because he hadn’t, she didn’t want to adopt at all.
Worse than that, the rift between them felt larger than ever.
It didn’t matter to him if they never had kids—adopted or biological. If being parents wasn’t God’s will for them, that was fine. What wasn’t fine was losing her in the pursuit of them.
Lord, give us healing, he prayed, still watching the slow current of the golden river. Lead us back to each other. Help us connect with each other over our shared love of you. Like we did in Ecuador.
Simeon blinked at the water. Maybe that was the answer. They could go back to Ecuador.
Yes, for their anniversary. He sat up straighter, excitement taking over.
He wasn’t naive enough to think the trip was going to solve everything. But at least it would give them a chance to get away from all the heartache here and rediscover the relationship that had started there.
Simeon punched the power button on his computer. He’d come to the office way earlier than necessary this morning, so he still had a couple of hours before his first clients arrived.
Plenty of time to plan a trip.
“Can I help you?”
Abigail blinked, trying to make sense of the voice. But all she could see was the giant letters behind the receptionist’s desk: Zelensky and Baker. Attorneys at Law.”
“Ma’am?” the woman repeated. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, uh.” Abigail stepped forward, wiping the rainwater off her face. Though it had been a short dash from the parking lot into the building, it was pouring outside, and she was completely soaked. She glanced at the placard on the desk. The woman’s name was Wendy, apparently. Abigail didn’t think that was who she’d talked to on the phone earlier this morning, but it didn’t matter. “I have an appointment. Abigail Calvano.”
The woman’s perfectly lipsticked mouth seemed to form a small O, but before Abigail could worry about what it meant, she had replaced it with a smile. “Yes. I’ll let Debbie know you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
Abigail took a seat in the posh-looking lobby. She clutched her purse in her lap, taking in the wood paneling and the slight leathery scent, the tasteful but bland landscapes on the wall, the soft music. All designed to make a client feel comfortable and at ease, Abigail imagined. And all failing miserably.
“Abigail? I’ll take you back to see Debbie now.” Wendy appeared in front of her, her slim skirt and tailored blouse a sharp contrast to Abigail’s sweats. “If you’ll follow me.”
Mutely, Abigail obeyed. Was she really here? Was she really going to do this?
“Here we are.” Wendy opened a frosted glass door and motioned for Abigail to step inside.
Abigail licked her lips. It wasn’t too late to turn around and march right out of here.
But that would only delay the inevitable.
With a mumbled thanks, she stepped past Wendy into the attorney’s office.
Forty minutes later, she emerged, clutching a thin packet of papers.
Keeping her head down, she plodded toward the lobby.
“Have a nice day,” Wendy called cheerfully as Abigail passed her.
Abigail’s stomach tightened. Didn’t the receptionist know what people came here to do?
But the woman was just doing her job. “You too,” she mumbled, stuffing the papers into her purse, then pushing the door open.
It’s still raining. The thought registered dully as drops of water splatted on her head. But she couldn’t make her feet move any faster toward her car. She shivered as a raindrop hit her neck and made its way down her spine. Finally, she got to the car and opened the door.
But even in here, out of the rain, she couldn’t stop shivering. She turned on the ignition and cranked up the heat, but that didn’t help either. She wrapped her arms around her middle, rocking back and forth for a second. But after a moment, she stopped, taking a deep breath. She had to get herself together. She was supposed to pick Carly up in ten minutes.
She moved her purse to the floor. But the paperwork from the attorney poked from it. She snatched at the papers, reaching across the seats to open the glove box and shove them inside.
She slammed the glove box shut. There. Now no one would see them. Until she gave them to Simeon. The thought nearly made her pass out. But she had no choice. She’d tell him everything tonight—give him the papers. And pray he wouldn’t sign them.
That last part was selfish—and unrealistic—but she couldn’t help it.
She forced herself to shift the car into gear and steer toward Zeb and Carly’s house. The whole way there, she focused on breathing and not thinking about anything.
The rain fell harder, the drops making a racket against the roof of the car. She turned the windshield wipers on full blast, grateful for the distraction of driving.
By the time she pulled into Zeb and Carly’s driveway, she’d almost managed to forget the papers searing a hole right through the glove box and into her heart.
Carly popped out the door and dashed through the rain toward the car, holding a jacket closed over her belly.
“Hi.” She dropped breathlessly into the passenger seat, sliding a water bottle into the cupholder between them. Abigail’s eyes went instantly to her sister-in-law’s stomach. Her own pregnancies had never made it to the point of showing.
Resolutely, she drew her gaze away, grabbing her phone and typing in the address Lydia had given her for the dress shop.
“Whew! Are you trying to turn your car into a sauna?” Carly fanned herself.
“Sorry.” Abigail turned the heat down and backed out of the driveway. “I was trying to dry off.”
“Don’t you have a garage?” Carly teased.
“I had some errands to do.” Abigail’s eyes went involuntarily to the glove box, but she pulled them back to the road.
“Anything fun?” Carly shifted in her seat, sliding the seatbelt below her belly.
“Not really.” Abigail swallowed painfully. She was not going to cry with her sister-in-law in the car.
“Oh.” Carly took a long drink of her water, and Abigail took the turn the GPS instructed her to make into the hills outside of town.
For a while, the only sound was the rain lashing at the car, and Abigail focused on the unfamiliar curvy road.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Carly broke into the silence.
Abigail jumped, though her sister-in-law’s voice had been barely audible over the rain. “Tell you what?”
“About the babies.” Carly’s hand landed on her arm. “We’re all so sorry. If we’d known . . .”
“I know.” Abigail shrugged, turning up the wipers to full speed as she navigated a sharp curve. “I’m fine.”
Carly pulled her hand back, but Abigail could still feel her gaze. “I’m glad y’all have decided to adopt though.”
Abigail pressed her lips together, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears from falling.
“Oh no. Abigail, what is it?” Concern coated Carly’s words, making Abigail cry harder.
“Nothing.” She sniffed and leaned forward, trying to see through the rain and her tears.
“Abigail, really . . .” Carly leaned toward her.
“It’s nothing.” Abigail wiped her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Carly fell silent and sat back in her seat, reaching for her water bottle. Abigail squinted out the windshield. Too late, she noticed a deep pothole in the road. There was a car coming in the other direction, so she couldn’t swerve.
She hit the pothole harder than she intended, gripping the wheel as the car hydroplaned for a moment.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured, glancing toward Carly.
Her sister-in-law held her water bottle out in front of her but was staring at her lap. “Bad time to take a drink.” She laughed. “Are there napkins in the glove box?” She had it open before Abigail could react.
“No.” The delayed cry finally came out.
But Carly had already moved the papers out of the way so she could dig under them. Abigail held her breath. Maybe Carly wouldn’t look at them.
She flicked her eyes back and forth from the road to Carly.
“Here they are.” Carly pulled out a wad of napkins and slid the papers back into the glove box, then pressed it closed.
Abigail let out a ragged breath as she maneuvered around a hairpin turn. That had been much too close. Her sister-in-law—Simeon’s whole family—would find out soon enough. But not today. Not like this.
“Oops. Must not have latched it tightly.” Carly’s words pulled Abigail’s eyes off the road. Carly was trying to readjust the papers in the glove box.
“It’s okay. I can get it later,” Abigail said quickly.
“That’s all right. I think I’ve got— What’s this?”
Abigail’s head jerked toward Carly. Her sister-in-law was holding the bundle of papers in front of her, reading.
Abigail’s mouth went Sahara-dry, and her vision glitched. She blinked and turned back to the road. “It’s— Uh—”
“Are you and Simeon getting divorced?” Carly sounded disbelieving.
“We’re— I don’t know.” Her own words turned around and slammed right into her chest. She gasped for breath.
“But why? I know y’all have had a hard time lately, but you’re adopting now and—”
“We’re not,” Abigail said flatly.
“Not what?”
“Not adopting.”
“But Simeon just said yesterday . . .” Carly sounded near tears, and Abigail hated herself for hurting yet another person.
“We can’t.” She might as well tell Carly the truth. “I can’t.”
“What on earth? Abigail, that doesn’t even make sense. Everyone can adopt.”
“Not—” She let out a breath. Once she said this, she couldn’t take it back. She’d have to go forward with telling Simeon tonight. “Not me. Not after the things I’ve done.”
“The things you’ve done? What kinds of things?”
Rain trounced the window, and Abigail leaned forward, trying to follow the yellow lines as they crested a hill. She tapped the brakes to round a curve, eyeing the terrain that fell away sharply on the right.
“Things like—”
“Watch out!” Carly gasped.
Abigail swerved sharply as a pickup truck in the other lane crossed the center line. The guardrail loomed in front of them, and Abigail stomped her foot to the brake and yanked the wheel in the other direction. The car spun, and there was a deafening crunch of metal on metal. Something white burst in Abigail’s face. The car was still moving—much too fast. Abigail pressed her foot harder to the brake. But there was nothing she could do to stop it.