A Family of Their Own - By Gail Gaymer Martin Page 0,42

Doug filtered into her thoughts. Since she’d read his letter, flashes of their marriage came to mind on occasion, a few special moments surprising her. Doug’s joy when Lucy was born. Their first home. A trip to London. She would never love him again. That was impossible, but he wasn’t the monster she’d created in her mind. He’d sinned and had broken his oath to God and to her. But who was she to weigh one sin over another? If the Lord could forgive Doug, why couldn’t she?

She rose, pulled a mug from the cabinet and turned on the burner to heat water for tea. While waiting, she wandered into the living room and pulled open the small antique secretary desk she rarely used. She drew out the letter and held it in her hand, her throat knotting with the memory of Doug’s words. Sinking into a chair, Kelsey unfolded the paper again.

Dear Kelsey,

What can I say to you that will make up for what I’ve done? I betrayed you and hurt you, and I’m ashamed. You need to understand that I love Karen, and I have been faithful to her, but I owed you the same. My cheating had nothing to do with you. You always were a wonderful wife and a tremendous mother. I allowed temptation to win out over good sense. Karen has never forgiven herself, either, and we both wished we’d met years earlier so that the harm we caused would never have happened.

But just as important, I’ve let my guilt turn me into a rotten father who shied away from his precious little daughter, who needed his support. You’ve handled her illness with bravery and strength, which I admire more than I can say. I know forgetting what I did is impossible, but I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive my unfaithfulness. I pray the Lord has. He’s heard my pleas.

Tears filled Kelsey’s eyes and dripped onto the paper.

I hope you will accept the check in the spirit in which I wrote it. I want to do something for Lucy and I don’t know how to make up for my lack of presence in her life. Money won’t cover that, but maybe you can find something she’d like, something special that would make her remember me with love.

A sob rent Kelsey’s throat. She dropped the letter into her lap and covered her face with her hands, allowing the hot tears to burn away her hatred.

When the kettle whistled, she wiped the tears from her eyes and returned the letter to the small desk. One day she would toss it away, but not now. The kettle persisted, and she returned to the kitchen. When her tea was ready, she wandered back to the living room, settled into the chair and rested her head against the cushion, thinking of Lucy’s recent visit with Doug.

The evening they’d arrived home from Grand Rapids after Ross left, she read the note and then shared what she could with Lucy. Doug’s words left her flailing with emotions that lashed one way and then another, but in time, she’d calmed and tried to make sense of it all.

Despite Doug’s exit from her life, she’d been blessed. Her good job, her friends and Lucy’s improved health reminded her that life was still good. And now Ross.

She lifted the mug and took a sip. It washed down her throat, warming her, yet an icy thought prevailed. Doug’s letter made his death so real that she trembled.

Things happened without warning. Accidents, death, even falling in love. She took another sip of tea to soothe her emptiness. She missed Ross. Peyton’s illness often came between them, and she understood, but it didn’t alleviate the lonely feeling. And sometimes she wondered if Lexie was right when she said two people with sick children shouldn’t fall in love.

But that’s what she’d been doing.

Ross’s concern rose as he eyed Dr. Timmons’s face, his lips pressed together with a faint frown on his face. He shifted in his chair and studied Peyton’s file.

Trying to contain himself, Ross clasped his hands in his lap, using the pressure to steady them.

“I don’t want you to get excited.” Dr. Timmons looked over the top of his glasses, his gaze shifting from Peyton to Ross.

“What is it?” Panic surged in Ross’s voice.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Timmons rose and slipped two x-rays into the lighted slots. “This was Peyton’s X-ray from six months ago.” He pointed to the electrocardiogram. “You can