Secrets over Sweet Tea (11 page)

“My goodness, that had to be awful for you.”

Grace nodded and blinked back tears. “He’s a good man, Scarlett Jo. But he has a big problem.
We
have a big problem.”

“I’m not judging Tyler.”

Grace shook her head. “I know that. I can tell. Honestly, I can. I believe in the soul of me that he loves me as much as he is capable of loving anyone.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“He’s just . . . broken.”

“Baby, we’re all broken. About the time we start believing we’re not, that’s when it all falls apart and we realize how bad off we are.”

Grace placed her feet on the edge of her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. Miss Daisy let out a heavy sigh as if she realized that meant they were going to be outside for a while. And that fluffy little thing was clearly not an outside dog—unless, of course, she decided it was a good day for a stroll.

“We actually separated a few years ago. And when we got back together, I thought everything was going to be better. I thought it was the real thing. Tyler was finally honest about the drinking—and I know that when you get something out of the darkness, it loses its hold. We got counseling. We were going to church. We even renewed our vows.”

For the first time Scarlett Jo heard anger beneath Grace’s words. She was okay with anger. Grace needed some fire in her belly.

“But then it started all over again. He backed off from church. He left the counselor. And we went back to the charade that was our life. I shouldn’t have come home. When he told me not to expect him to be intimate with me immediately, I should
have looked at him and said, ‘Then I’m not coming home.’ But I didn’t. I just let him convince me.”

“So what did you go back to, Grace?”

She watched the tears accumulate against Grace’s long eyelashes. The soft blonde hair framing her small face made her look like a child who needed to be cared for. One tear fell quickly before the back of Grace’s hand could stop it. “I went back to survival. To what I knew. To what felt safe. Manageable. Mine. But I’m never going back there again.” Her voice broke. “Even if I become one of those people. It’s over.”

“One of what people?”

“One of those failures. I’m getting a divorce, Scarlett Jo. I’m going to spend the rest of my life like all those other people with the big
D
stamped across their chests.”

Scarlett Jo felt the thud in her gut that hit her anytime she heard that word. “Baby girl, divorce is a permanent step.”

“I know.” Grace spoke softly now, her anger swept away with the first tear that fell. “It’s horrible, isn’t it? You give your life to something. You pray. You fast. You believe. You fight. And then you’re left staring at nothing but rubble. But this is where it ends.” She turned to face Scarlett Jo. “It’s this far and no farther. Tyler Shepherd has been a god in my life since I was twenty-three years old. I have let him dictate virtually every decision I have made in these last twelve years. But I’ve tried to play his savior too. And it’s all got to stop. We’re both going to have to be responsible to God for our own souls.”

Being a minister’s wife, Scarlett Jo had sat across from countless women over the years. She’d heard all sorts of reasons for divorce: affairs, abuse, the ever-formidable and lame excuse of “I just don’t love him anymore.” And she had said to so many of
them the same thing she said to Grace now: “Honey, you know you can release yourself from a marriage all day long. You can find more excuses to divorce a man than you can find cicadas in Franklin when they come out—and I hear that’s going to happen any day now. But what you can’t and never will be able to do is end a covenant. Only the good Lord himself can do that.”

Grace’s brown eyes seemed to look through Scarlett Jo. “I know” was all she offered.

And Scarlett Jo believed her. Unlike so many of the women Scarlett Jo had counseled in this situation, Grace Shepherd understood what she was doing and had an inkling of what she would lose. But what Grace Shepherd didn’t know yet was how hard she’d have to fight to reclaim her heart—that little-girl heart buried deep down inside that beautiful yet very old soul. She also suspected Grace had yet to realize how deep and rich God’s grace was for her. Divorce was sin—this Scarlett Jo knew. But she also knew God had a grace for the divorced heart, just as he had for every other form of human brokenness.

A shrill screaming sound interrupted her thoughts as an enormous insect flew past her head. It landed on the arm of her rocker. She let out a scream of her own and jumped from her chair, flapping her hands so wildly that if she hadn’t been top-heavy, she might have taken flight. “What is that? What is that?”

Grace didn’t move from her chair. Miss Daisy, however, sat up at the commotion. Grace calmly swatted the creature, which took off loudly. “That is a cicada, Scarlett Jo.”

“So they’re here.” A chill ran through Scarlett Jo, and her entire body shook. She’d lived in the South all her life and never seen one before. “How long will those things be around?”

“Five or six weeks.”

She crinkled her nose and pushed up her lips. “They’re disgusting.”

“Yes, they are.”

“They’re
huge
.”

“They’re flies on steroids.”

“Did you see its eyes?”

“As red as the devil’s.”

“You wouldn’t care if ten were sitting on you right now, would you?”

“Not a lick.”

Yep, that girl was as dead as you could get inside. But Scarlett Jo wasn’t worried. Not really. Because sometimes a person has to die in order to really live.

Zach’s office was quiet today. He felt it as he walked in the door, and he was grateful. The girls had argued the entire way to the school, and he’d found himself wishing that the Range Rover came with an Eject button. He also wished it came with a return-because-your-wife-convinced-you-that-you-needed-it-and-you-didn’t policy. He hated that car and everything it represented. Everything it attempted to represent.

“Hey, Darlene.”

His secretary looked up and smiled. Darlene Grant had been with him since he’d opened this practice seven years ago. She was sixty-nine now and embraced each one of those years as the gift it was. She’d let her hair gray and her figure soften, but beauty was so deeply embedded in her soul that it showed
through every pore. She had retired briefly when she was sixty-two, just long enough to take care of her grown daughter after a tonsillectomy. But she didn’t like retirement or the one week she was home with nothing to do. Zach was the lucky recipient of her inability to retire. He hoped she never did.

“You look a little tired,” she said to him this morning. “Did you take the stairs?”

He laughed and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot she had already made. “Took the elevator this morning. But I am tired. My mother-in-law was in town for the weekend.”

“Well, maybe you can relax a little today since you don’t have any appointments. Just let me know if I can get you anything.”

He looked into her kind face, her hazel eyes soft above her mocha cheeks. If he could invent a mother for himself, it would be her. His own mom had died when he was in college, leaving a huge hole in his heart and a longing for someone to fill it. Darlene helped.

“Thanks,” he told her. “Will do.”

He spent the next three hours working on his caseload for the week and preparing a motion scheduled for tomorrow. Finally he put down the file and rubbed his tired eyes. His worn leather chair squeaked as he leaned back. He stretched, trying to let go of pent-up anxiety from the weekend. It escaped with a long, heavy sigh.

His office smelled of old books and his late Friday afternoon cigar. His eyes fell on the small Bible perched near the edge of his desk. He wondered for an instant how he would have felt if he had noticed it yesterday when she was here. He tried to recall the last time he’d opened it—at least two months. There had been a brief season after his affair started
when the angst overwhelmed him and he said he couldn’t see her anymore. Then home got worse, and he needed her. At least he needed something, so he chose her. Or maybe he felt he deserved her. He put his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands. A knock on the door freed him from the train wreck of his thoughts.

Darlene peeked in, her words a near whisper. “Could you see someone?”

He sat up straight. “Who is it?”

“Someone your pastor’s wife sent over.”

He blew out a large puff of air. “Tell her I’m busy. Have you met my pastor’s wife?”

“Zach, stop it. Scarlett Jo Newberry is one of the best people I know.”

“You need to get out more.”

She pushed the door open a little farther and stepped inside. “It’s one of the news anchors from the NBC affiliate in Nashville. I watch her every morning.”

She still had to be crazy. If Scarlett Jo Newberry sent her, he was in for torture. But Darlene wasn’t leaving. “Okay.” He finally yielded, not trying to hide his frustration. “Have her take a seat in the conference room, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Thank you. And be nice.” Darlene closed the door behind her.

He turned his chair around and opened the long credenza that stood against the wall beside his desk. File after file of divorce after divorce lined up in neat rows, a stark contrast to the mayhem the divorces themselves left in their wake. He pulled out an empty folder and grabbed a legal pad from his desk. He was at least grateful for the distraction.

He walked through the door of the conference room and nodded to the two women in front of him. He recognized the petite blonde as soon as he saw her. She was something of a local celebrity. Caroline watched her every morning while getting ready for the day.

What was she doing here? Oh yeah, Caroline had mentioned something this morning before their argument ensued. Maybe about a DUI? “How embarrassing,” Caroline had said.

She stood when he came into the room. He extended his hand. “Zach Craig.”

“Grace Shepherd.” Her name was as beautiful as she was. And being this close to her, you couldn’t deny her beauty, even with the red nose and puffy eyes. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “This is my best friend, Rachel Green.”

“I’m just here to support and take notes,” the other woman quickly added.

“Please sit.”

He motioned toward the table, then rounded the other side of it and pulled out one of the yellow velvet armless chairs. Caroline had picked out these chairs, said the color was “cheerful.” He hated it. Every time he looked at the chairs, he wanted to throw them out the window onto Main Street. But he didn’t crave the attention that would bring.

“All right, Ms. Shepherd, how can I help you today?”

“Scarlett Jo Newberry recommended you.”

“And how do you know Scarlett Jo?”

“I just moved in a couple doors down from her. We’ve had several conversations lately, and my husband and I . . .” The catch in her voice seemed to surprise even her. “We visited
their church yesterday.” She turned to her friend. “Amazing how twenty-four hours can change your life.”

Rachel placed her hand on top of Grace’s and patted it softly. “It’s been years, Grace,” she whispered.

Grace nodded, then turned her attention back to Zach and pulled slightly at the sleeves of her green sweater. The color was beautiful on her.

He cleared his throat. “So why don’t you tell me why Scarlett Jo recommended me.”

“I want to file for divorce.” Her words came out flat and certain.

“Okay, well, I have to ask you: are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

Grace looked at Rachel, then back at him. She nodded. “Yes, it’s time.”

“I take it you’ve thought about this for a while.”

“I’ve fought against it for years.”

“All right.” He placed his elbows on the table and clicked the end of his blue ballpoint pen. “Let’s start with basic information.”

He asked names, addresses, length of marriage. Then his questions got deeper, more personal: financial situation, properties owned, children. And with each answer, her voice trembled more. He looked up to see tears pooling in her eyes. He’d seen that plenty of times before.

“Grace, this is going to get even more personal.”

She nodded, clearly unable to speak.

“Are you able to give me some insight into what led to the breakdown of your marriage?”

She hesitated a moment, gathering herself. Then she took
a long drink from the bottled water Darlene had provided and began to share her story. Zach always found it ironic listening to stories like this—stories of women whose husbands wouldn’t love them. It was far more common than people imagined. And yet he lived with a woman who wouldn’t let him touch her. If she did, he had to work so hard at it that it almost didn’t feel worth it. She acted like she was doing him a favor and wanted it over as quickly as possible. And yet here was a woman, a beautiful woman, whose husband couldn’t appreciate what he had. At least Zach had someone else to make him feel appreciated.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” he offered when she was finished. “I really am sorry.”

The corners of her mouth turned downward, and for a moment she looked like a child. “Me too,” she whispered.

“Well, here are my thoughts.” He clicked the end of his pen. “We could proceed by filing under impotence, which is legal here in Tennessee. Or we could file under habitual drunkenness. I think we could get some witnesses, and those, along with the DUI and your husband’s failed attempts at rehab and counseling, would give us a real strong case in that regard. We could also see if he is having an affair. I know in many cases where alcoholism is prevalent, so is adultery.”

She moved forward in her seat. “I want to file under irreconcilable differences.”

He wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. “You want to—”

“I know it might not make sense to you, Mr. Craig.”

“Zach. Please call me Zach.”

“Okay, Zach, but this is what I feel like I’m supposed to do. I’m going to have a lot of choices to make in this journey,
choices to honor or to dishonor. And this is the one I’m choosing to make today.”

He shifted in his seat. “I hear what you’re saying. But if you’re wanting to hire me, I really would recommend that you proceed differently. I think if the judge knows what you’ve been through, he will make sure you are well taken care of.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of, and I don’t want anything from Tyler. All I want for him is to get help, to be whole. And if he can get well, then maybe, maybe we could remarry one day down the road. Maybe this severing could bring an ultimate healing. But I can’t wait for that.” Her voice broke completely, and she made no attempt to hide her tears. She simply dabbed them with a tissue her friend placed in her hand. “I’ve had enough drama in my life, and I simply want this to be as quick and as easy as possible. I want you to file under irreconcilable differences, and I want to get on with my healing—whatever that looks like and however that happens.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I won’t try to change your mind.”

“I’m glad, because my mind is settled.”

My, she was a stubborn one. “Okay. I’ll get started on your papers and should have them for you in a couple days. Once we file, it will be best if you are able and he is willing to sit down and try to divide your property together. Do you think you can do that? Or do you think you’ll need mediation?”

He watched as her wheels turned, and for the first time he saw fear on her face. Rachel must have noticed it too because she spoke for Grace. “Tyler can be a little volatile, Zach. I’m not sure if they can do that together or not.”

“If there’s any danger of him being inappropriate, then you
need to make sure he doesn’t come back to the house,” Zach said firmly.

“Tyler’s never hurt me,” Grace said. “Not physically. He just loses his temper sometimes.”

“He’s an alcoholic, Grace,” Rachel said. “And when he’s drinking, he’s unpredictable. Zach is right—Tyler doesn’t need to come back into that house. You need a refuge. It’s time.”

“I don’t care about that house.”

Rachel persisted. “Well, I care about you. And you are not moving. He is the one who loves to move, and you are not moving.” Rachel looked at Zach. “She may file under irreconcilable differences, but you need to make sure she gets that house.”

“I’ll draw up the divorce papers that way. We’ll ask for the house. And the rest of the property we can settle through attorneys since he is volatile.”

“Okay, then.” Grace nodded decisively and then stood. “I’ll let you ask for the house. But when you get me the divorce papers, I’ll know rather quickly what Tyler and I will and won’t be able to do. And when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

He watched from the window in the conference room as Grace and Rachel walked across the street and toward the car. Rachel guided her friend with a soft and steady arm, but Grace didn’t really need the help. She stepped firmly, with poise, her white slacks emphasizing her lithe stride. She had been named well. Unfortunately Tyler Shepherd didn’t need her grace. He needed a kick in the—

Zach stopped himself right there. She didn’t need his emotion. She needed his counsel. And she needed a man who loved her. Yeah, she needed a man . . .

Scarlett Jo pushed the pedals of the spin bike, willing her royal-blue spandex leotard not to ride up again. A gift to herself twenty years ago, it still fit pretty well, though she’d pinched the tar out of her thighs when she’d tried to tug up the matching pants. But she loved royal blue. What she hated was Sabrina, the sadistic torturer up there shouting demands from her pretty little perch in the front of the class—and barely breathing hard.

“Oh, my heavens, have mercy! I’m dying here, people!” Scarlett Jo announced to the whole class over the rap song that pumped through the speakers, its beat serving as the cadence for the movement of their legs. “Are you trying to kill us?”