Dark clouds dotted the sky, and he spotted sheets of rain to the west. So much for suggesting the walk they’d discussed earlier. He wasn’t ready to end their day together.
A question for her rested on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure how to ask. He’d hoped for more time to figure it out.
Her hand wrapped around the door handle. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“My honor.” His eyes shifted upward to the visor where he’d safely tucked the sonograms until he got home. Pride filled his heart, along with a renewed determination to keep his daughter.
“Next Thursday I have an appointment, but it’s only to check my blood pressure.” She pushed the door open a crack, letting in the cooling air.
“I can go if you want company.”
“You don’t have to feel obligated. I only told you because I agreed to let you be a part of this.”
Women were confusing. Did she or didn’t she want him to go? “Whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t start my job until October, so it’s not like I have anything else to do.”
“I’m used to them by now, and I’m usually in and out.” She slid her purse over her shoulder. “You’re more than welcome to come, but you won’t miss anything if you don’t.”
“I’d like to be there.”
“Can you meet me there? I’m going on my lunch break to conserve my paid time-off.”
“That’s fine. What time?”
“Eleven-thirty.”
He pulled out his phone and added the appointment to his calendar. “Same place?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there.”
She pushed the door open wide. “If I don’t see you before then, have a good week.”
“You, too.” He waited until she entered her house before backing out of the driveway and going home.
The timing hadn’t been right to ask her, but he would. Soon.
When he opened his front door a minute later, the silence startled him. It had never bothered him before, not much anyway. Today, it goaded him. Told him he had no one.
Don’t listen to the lies.
He hadn’t told his family about Sybil and the pregnancy. Each time he spoke to his mom or sister he’d intended to, but the words wouldn’t come out. How long could he put it off? He didn’t want to, didn’t like secrets between them.
But if he called, they’d ask more questions in their own discreet way. They’d want to know if he’d stayed sober, to which he could give a resounding yes. They’d also ask carefully constructed questions to find out if he’d released his guilt, and when they found out he hadn’t, they’d direct him to the Bible and prayer.
For his daughter’s sake, he needed to move on from the shame that followed him around like a cloud over his head. He couldn’t continue as he had been. And yes, he’d stayed sober; but how long would that last if he didn’t confront his demons?
He rubbed his eyes and fought a battle within himself. Mom told him God cared about him, no matter what he’d done. Somewhere inside him, albeit deep, he believed that. He’d learned about Him and believed in Him from a young age, but he’d lost his way.
What could it hurt to pray? If God heard him, then good. Maybe He’d point out the path of healing. And if He didn’t hear? Then he wouldn’t be any worse off than he was now.
Maybe if he got down on his knees like he had as a child saying his bedtime prayers, it would help his message get to heaven. He went to his bedroom and kneeled at his bed. Crossed his hands and bowed his head. Every sound in the house magnified. Car doors slammed shut in the neighbor’s driveway.
He inhaled and filled his lungs with air, employed various techniques he’d learned to concentrate. After several minutes, he blocked out all the noise, but then he became self-conscious. He wiggled his shoulders and brushed a speck of dust from his shirt.
This is ridiculous. He stood to his feet and then moved to the living room. Turned on the television and tried to immerse himself in a movie. As the rain moved in, the stronger he felt the need to pray. But how?
Turning off the movie, he grew more agitated and restless. He went outside and let the rain fall on him, not caring that it soaked clear through his clothes.
