Chapter 45
Simeon stared at the divorce papers that had somehow materialized in his hands. How was he supposed to comprehend what his wife was telling him? How was he supposed to make sense of the fact that she remembered a past he’d never known about? A past that meant she wasn’t the woman he thought she was?
He glanced up from the papers to find her watching him. The tears had stopped falling, but her eyes held fear and anguish.
She really expected him to sign them.
Simeon’s eyes went again to the papers.
And then he did the same thing he’d done the first time he’d seen them.
In one long, smooth action, he tore them in half from top to bottom.
“Simeon,” Abigail gasped. “What are you—”
He dropped the papers onto the floor and stepped forward, pulling her into his arms, hard.
She fought for a second but then buried her face in his chest with a muffled sob. “You can’t do this Simeon. You can’t stay with me.” But she clutched at the back of his shirt.
“I can and I will,” he growled into her hair, clutching at her just as fiercely.
Her head shook back and forth against his chest. “You can’t. You’ll never be able to have a family. Because of me.”
“You’re my family.” Simeon kissed the top of her head, then relinquished his hold just enough to look into her eyes. “I’d love to have children with you, and I still think it’s worth talking with the adoption agency about that, if you want to. But the bottom line is, whether we have children or not, we’re still a family. You and me.” He wiped gently at the tears again slipping silently down her cheeks.
“But—” She tilted her head to the side, as if trying to figure him out. “Why?”
He laughed softly. “Because I love you.”
“You can’t,” she said, pressing a hand weakly to his chest, as if to ward off the words. “Not anymore. Not now that you know.”
He slid his hands down her cheeks to rest on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but you don’t get to set limits on my love. I told you the first time I said it, I told you on our wedding day, and I’m telling you now: nothing’s going to change that. Ever.”
“But I’m not who you thought I was,” Abigail whispered.
Simeon let his eyes travel over all of her before bringing them back to hers, their openness sparking renewed hope deep in him. “You are.” He bent forward, taking her lips in his, kissing her tenderly. “You are exactly the woman I thought you were. Kind. Loving. Thoughtful.” He placed a new kiss on her lips with each word. “Funny. Open. Trusting.”
“But, Simeon, the things I’ve done,” she protested, turning her head so that his last kiss landed on her cheek.
“Are in the past,” he said firmly. “You aren’t captive to those things anymore. You’re a new person now.”
She shook her head. “You’re the one who said old me and new me were the same person.”
“They are.” Simeon tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to look at him. “And they’re both washed clean in the blood of Christ. Which means you’re a new creation in him. Right?”
She seemed to consider the question, then nodded slowly. “Right.”
“Right,” Simeon repeated. He stepped away from her for a moment to scoop her ring off the dresser.
Then he dropped to one knee, grasping both of her hands in his, the same way he had five years ago.
“What are you doing?” Abigail laughed through her tears.
“I’m asking you to be my wife.” Simeon stopped, suddenly choked up and needing to clear his throat before he could continue. “I’m asking you to renew our vows. Not because the old ones weren’t good enough. But as a symbol of our fresh start—of the way God has renewed us and our relationship. Abigail Calvano, will you marry me again?”
“I will.” Abigail dropped to the floor next to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“You didn’t let me put the ring on your finger,” Simeon protested with a laugh.
“Oh.” Abigail let go and held her hand out, and Simeon slid the ring back onto it, then laced the fingers of his left hand between hers so that their wedding rings appeared to intertwine.
They both stared at their interlocked hands for a moment, and then Abigail looked up, her eyes shining.
“Of all the things I remember,” she said. “You’re my favorite.”
He laughed. “And you’re mine.”