The Preacher's Son - Juliette Duncan Page 0,1
a better surfer than Elijah,” five-year-old Rosie said, her long blonde hair hanging in strands on her shoulders. “I didn’t fall in as many times as he did.”
“That's because Daddy was holding you!” six-year-old Elijah protested.
Rosie pouted, and I laughed as I got to my feet. The kids adored each other, but they were too close in age not to bicker constantly.
“Stop fighting, you both did great,” Hayden admonished, winking at me. He took my hand and we strolled up the beach together as the early evening sun splattered gorgeous colours across the sky.
We grabbed fish and chips from our favourite café and sat at a table overlooking the ocean to eat. When we got home, we took it in turns to bathe the kids and put them to bed. I was just coming out of Elijah’s room, having finally gotten him to sleep after no less than three bedtime stories, when I heard Hayden talking on the phone in the landing. I knew he’d be talking to his parents who lived in Tasmania, a long way south of where we lived. He usually phoned them every few weeks, typically on a Saturday. I was heading into our own bedroom to fold laundry when something in his tone made me stop.
“No, I haven’t forgotten, Dad. But I can’t see it happening now, not with the kids so young, and with Penny’s job...”
Slowing, I grimaced as a heavy weight landed on my heart. Was his father talking about ministry again? He’d always wanted Hayden to follow in his footsteps and become a preacher. Although he’d given us his blessing all those years ago and was a devoted grandfather, I was always aware, no matter how many years passed, of an underlying disappointment. And although he’d never said such a thing, I always wondered if he didn’t blame me for distracting Hayden from his destiny...or the destiny he wanted for his son. I’m sure he would have been happier if his only son had married a more traditional wife. One without such a demanding career of her own.
Although I’d ignored my grandmother’s instructions to never kiss a preacher’s son, I was certain I didn’t ever want to be a preacher’s wife. I’d seen the way Hayden’s mother had taken a back seat to his father’s pastoral responsibilities, playing the role of pastor’s wife perfectly, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I’d be terrible at it. Although my faith in God had grown and blossomed over the years, I could never see myself as a preacher’s wife, now or ever. It simply wasn’t me.
Of course, even as I thought the words, an inner voice reminded me that Hayden had sacrificed a lot for my career. I was pretty sure he’d never planned on being a lawyer’s husband, either.
I hurried into the bedroom and shut the door behind me so I couldn’t be tempted to eavesdrop any further and got on with the laundry, trying not to wonder what was being said.
When Hayden walked into the bedroom soon after, I smiled and tried not to let my thoughts show. “Elijah’s finally asleep. I’m going to fold these and iron the kids’ outfits for church in the morning, then maybe we could cuddle up and watch a movie together?” It had been a long time since we’d done that. Most weekend evenings I went to bed early with a good novel, and during the week I was always exhausted from work.
He returned my smile. “That sounds nice, but no rom coms, hey?”
“Only if you promise no superhero movies,” I replied with a grin.
“That doesn’t leave us with a lot.” He slipped his arms around me from behind and brushed his lips against my neck. “But I’m sure we can find something.”
We compromised on a historical drama we hadn’t seen before, but it was terrible and we were both yawning before the movie was halfway through. Laughing, we decided to call it an early night after all.
But the gnawing feeling in my gut hadn’t left me, and when Hayden pulled me into his arms for a cuddle after we’d gotten into bed, I blurted out, “What was your father saying on the phone tonight? It sounded serious.”
Even in that half-light, I was sure I saw him flinch. “Just the usual,” he said lightly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear as he gazed into my eyes. “Moaning about Mum’s cooking.”
His mother’s culinary escapades were legendary, but for once I didn’t laugh. “I