Read The Forgiving Hour Online

Authors: Robin Lee Hatcher

The Forgiving Hour (35 page)

Dakota glanced sideways at Sara. She looked as if she were headed for her execution. He’d hoped they’d taken care of that back at her apartment, but apparently the cure wasn’t permanent. He reached over and grabbed hold of her left hand.

Startled from her thoughts, she turned toward him with wide eyes.

He gave her a wink, then looked at the road again. “Hon, you’ve gotta calm down.”

“I’m trying. It’s just …” She let the words drift off unfinished.

“I told you, you two are going to love each other.”

With another glance he caught her nodding as she forced a pitiful smile.

He released her hand so he could downshift. Then he turned into the subdivision. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of his mother’s house.

“We’re here.”

He got out, hurried around to her side, and took hold of her hand again. He gave her fingers a squeeze.

When her gaze met his, he said, “I love you. So will Mom. She’s standing at the door now, waiting to welcome you into the Conway family. Relax and just be yourself.” As he helped her out of the Jeep, he added, “Everything’s going to be perfect.”

PART 6

Despair

I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are out of joint;
My heart is like wax;
it is melted within me.
My strength is dried up like a potsherd;
and my tongue cleaves to my jaws;
And Thou dost lay me
in the dust of death.
Psalm 22:14 – 15

THIRTY-FIVE

When Sara’s gaze fell upon the small snapshot, a disquieting shiver ran through her. As if she should recognize something about it.

She leaned in for a closer look. The colored photo in the inexpensive gold-toned frame was grainy, but it was good enough to see the broad grin on the little boy’s face as well as the happy expression on the woman’s face. They were seated on the grass in front of a house. A bicycle, complete with training wheels, lay on the lawn behind them, and off to the right she could see a few purple blossoms on a lilac bush.

“Who is this?” she asked Dakota, that unsettled feeling growing in her chest.

“That’s me and my mom when I was … oh, about five, I think.”

That house. That front door. What was it that made her feel like she’d been there?

“Where was it taken?”

“That’s our old house on Garden Street. It’s where I grew up. Mom sold it after she got a divorce, right after I finished grade school.”

Garden Street.

It wasn’t possible. It was just a coincidence. Nothing more.

“Dakota … what was your father’s name?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he answered, “I’ve told you why I never talk about him. I promised Mom I wouldn’t.”

It can’t be. It can’t be.

She looked up into Dakota’s eyes. “What was his name? I need to know. I
have
to know.”

“Does it matter that much to you?”

Just tell me his name is anything but Dave, and this will all go away.

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, it does.”

“Porter. His name was David Porter. Why?”

No!

Panicked, Sara turned toward the kitchen. Dakota’s mother was standing in the doorway. “Claire …
Porter
?” It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. In just a moment, this nightmare would end.
“Dave
was your husband? He’s Dakota’s father?”

Claire dropped the coffee tray.

“What’s going on?” Dakota asked.

Sara spun toward him. Surely, if she asked the right question, this would all go away. “Did your dad call you Mikey?”
Tell me no.

“Where did you hear that?” His answer was as good as a yes.

She stepped away from him, needing him to hold her and yet unable to bear the thought of it. Was he Dave’s son? Had she had an affair with his father? “It can’t be,” she whispered. “It can’t. God wouldn’t do this to us. He wouldn’t do this.”

“Would someone
please
tell me what’s going on?” Dakota demanded, his voice rising. “Mom?”

Sara looked toward Claire, too, silently pleading for words that would make this all turn out right. And in that instant, as she looked at the woman who was supposed to be her mother-in-law, she knew this wasn’t a nightmare. She wasn’t going to wake up. It was all horribly, unbelievably true. Every sordid detail of it.

And yet, still she pleaded, “Say it isn’t true. Please say it isn’t true.”

But, of course, Claire couldn’t oblige.

Sara wanted to die.

Claire had once been Dave’s wife.

Dakota was Dave Porter’s son.

Sara had slept with his father.

She was going to be sick.

“I have to go,” she whispered as the bile rose in her throat. “I have to leave.”

“Sara!” Dakota called after her, but she was already running for the door, tears blinding her.

O, God, please let me die. Strike me dead. Please!

Dakota stared after his fleeing fiancée, then turned toward his mother. She stood like a statue, frozen in place.

“What’s happening?” he asked again. “Mom?”

Without answering, she knelt and began picking up the scattered items from the tray.

Dakota didn’t know what to do. Should he stay with his mother or go after Sara? Something horrendous had happened right in front of his eyes, but he didn’t know what it was. He only knew both Claire and Sara were in pain.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Look at this,” Claire said softly. “The sugar bowl is chipped. A tiny piece is missing. It must have broken when I dropped the tray.”

He knelt in front of her. “Mom?”

She didn’t look up. “How will I find a sliver that small in the carpet?”

“Mom, you’ve got to tell me.”

I’m supposed to honor my mother.

“Please.”

I’m supposed to cleave to Sara.

How could he do both?

Claire looked up. Their gazes met.

He wished they hadn’t.

“I’ve got to find Sara,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got to go after her. I’ll be back.”

He took off running, his heart hammering in fear. As much from what he’d just seen in his mother’s eyes as from anything that had gone before.

Claire stared at the open door.

The spring day was bright and sunny. The happy sounds of children at play drifted through the neighborhood. The smell of newly mown grass was evident on the breeze.

How could this be? How could everything else seem so normal?

“I’m in hell.”

No, beloved. You are in My everlasting arms.

A sudden rage gripped her, and she shook her fist toward heaven. “How could You do this? How could You let it happen?” She stood and shouted, “She
slept
with my husband! She destroyed my life. And now she’s doing it again.”

Love covers a multitude of sins.

Not this. Nothing could cover this. Nothing could fix this. Not ever.

Dropping the sugar bowl a second time, she left the house, not knowing where she was going, only knowing she had to escape, just like Sara and Dakota before her.

Dakota found Sara a half mile from his mother’s house. She wasn’t running any longer. Nor would he have said she was walking. It was more of a stagger, like a drunk after a long night with the bottle.

He pulled his Jeep alongside her and shouted, “Sara, get in.”

She kept walking.

“Sara!”

Still she ignored him.

He braked to a halt, cut the engine, and jumped out. “Sara!” He ran after her, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her to face him.

Her cheeks were streaked with tears. There was no color in her face; she was as pale as a ghost. Her eyes, like his mother’s, were filled with incomprehensible pain.

“Sara, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” she answered in a voice devoid of life. “I can’t tell you.”

“Come on.” He guided her toward the Jeep. “I’m taking you home. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.” He felt like a broken record, playing the same bars of music over and over again.

She didn’t argue with him. Listlessly, she allowed him to put her into his vehicle.

God, what’s happening here?

As he hurried around to the driver’s side, he replayed the scene in his mind, from the moment Sara had asked him what his father’s name was to the moment she’d run out of the house. But he still couldn’t figure it out. His mom and Sara had never met … and yet somehow they knew each other. Somehow they were connected.

He pulled out into traffic, his thoughts churning.

“I can’t marry you, Dakota.”

The Jeep seemed to roll back to the shoulder of the road by itself.

He gripped the steering wheel as he looked at her. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t marry you.” She stared straight ahead. “I’m going back to Denver.”

“This is crazy. Why? Why can’t you marry me? Why would you go back to Denver?”

“I … I can’t tell you.”

He felt a spark of anger heating his chest. “Well, I don’t accept it. You can’t break an engagement without
some
reason. Explain it to me.”

She didn’t reply. Instead she started to weep, her head bowed, her hands clasped in her lap.

His anger vanished as quickly as it had come. He’d never seen anyone cry this way before. Absolute silence, absolute stillness, while a flood of tears poured down her cheeks. It was like watching her die before his eyes.

He made a quick decision. He wasn’t taking her to her apartment. Not until she told him the truth. Not until they had this out and he understood it all. He would take her to his place. He’d keep her there until she talked to him. He wasn’t letting her go without a fight.

Help me, Jesus.

Claire didn’t know where she was going. She simply got into her car and drove, following a gray ribbon of road without seeing it.

She ruined my life. She ruined Dakota’s childhood. He was only twelve years old when she was with his father. Only twelve. It’s her fault he grew up without a dad. It’s all her fault.

Hatred filled her, blinded her, consumed her.

What was happening between them at this moment? Was she poisoning his mind against his mother? Was she telling him more lies, making sure he would believe her rather than the truth?

Of course she was. A woman like Sara Jennings always told lies. That’s what she was all about.

How could You let this happen?
she railed against God.
How?

Could Sara have done this on purpose? Was it no accident they’d met? Had she sought him out because he was Dave’s son?

Anything was possible. That woman was wicked and dishonest and —

A flash of color appeared in Claire’s peripheral vision. A dog. A collie with a bright red handkerchief tied about its neck. A child running behind it.

She jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid hitting them. The car swerved, felt as if it would overturn. She corrected, jerking to the right. She overcorrected yet again.

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