The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,93

know that at the time. I just heard something. So I followed the sound. When it took me next door, I followed, still not realizing what it was. I went inside and only then, only when I saw her there on the floor, did I recognize her voice. All that time, I still thought it was a kind of signal, some kind of sign. But it was Margaret on the floor yelling for help.”

“That was the message.”

“I didn’t get a message, Beth. The ambulance came, and afterward I was sitting out in the shed and suddenly, it dawns on me: what am I doing here? Just like that, I can’t even remember why it seemed so important, why I thought there was no other way.”

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. It’s the first time we’ve touched, really touched. Intentional, eyes fixed on each other.

“I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I basically abandoned you. Abandoned the boys. And I can’t sit here and tell you there was any good reason. All I can tell you is, I am sorry.”

I squeeze his hand. “You saved her life.”

“Not because of the Fast.”

“You wouldn’t have been here otherwise. We’d have all been in Florida instead of just me. And don’t forget about Sam. Whatever you said, it made an impact on that girl—”

“You’re sweet,” he says, “trying to make me feel better. But I’m a big boy. I can admit when I’ve screwed up royally. All this, and I’m still back at square one. I still don’t know what to tell Jim.”

“Did you talk to him at all? I left the phone out there . . .”

“I told him I was still prayerfully considering it. Those are the exact words: ‘prayerfully considering.’ You can take the man out of ministry, but you can’t take the ministry out of the man.”

“Out of ministry?”

“I’m not saying that, Beth. I’m not saying anything. To be honest, I don’t know what to say. But tell me you forgive me, or at least tell me you’ll try.”

This is a big ask, whether he realizes it or not. Part of me wants to melt, wants to make everything okay again, or at least pretend. But if we start acting like the last three weeks didn’t happen, we’ll be picking up where we left off. We were miserable then. I don’t want to settle for a lesser misery just to avoid a greater one. I’m ready to be non-miserable. Easy grace won’t get me that.

“Beth?” he asks, imploring.

“You promise not to do it again?”

Too easy, I think.

“Never.”

“All right, then.”

He leans over and tries to kiss me. His hip catches the table, which scrapes across the tile and pushes into my ribs. Is that a metaphor or what?

“Oops,” he says. “Sorry.”

He’s gonna give up. Before he can, I reach for his T-shirt and pull him to my lips. He tastes clean, his breath fresh, not at all like a desert father or a crazy hermit. He tastes like himself.

It’s the first time Rick has ever told me he was sorry.

Confession: I’m going to let that cover a multitude of sins.

chapter 18

Mural, Mural on the Wall

Once you’ve resolved to reconcile, the hardest part is telling the people who’ve supported you during the separation. I go over the speech to Holly in my head, even practicing a few lines in the mirror. She’ll understand, naturally. She’ll be happy for me. But I worry that, under the mask of outward joy, I might detect a note of disappointment in her face. You’re weaker than I thought, Beth. You gave in to him so easily. How do you know he won’t do it again? Nothing’s changed, after all.

The boys prove a challenge for Rick.

“Eli will be all right,” I warn him, “but I’m not sure about Jed. You should know, while you’ve been out there, he’s found himself a girlfriend.”

“Yes, he told me.”

To my surprise, father and son seem to have bonded on the day of Margaret’s fall. Maybe Jed sensed a change in his dad, or maybe being in love has rendered his teenage anger moot. Rick knows all about Marlene, though he doesn’t remember her from The Community. He has even reconciled himself to the piercings and dreadlocks.

“There’s something appealing about that to a boy,” he says, opening the window into the male psyche a little too far for my taste. “It’s . . . exotic.”

The real trouble comes from Eli, Dad’s favorite. He won’t fall into line with the restored