Chapter 11

© Copyright 2007 by Elizabeth Delayne

Rod tossed his phone on the sofa in frustration, half of himself wishing that modern times and the cordless phone had not taken away the stress reliever of slamming the phone down. He leaned over and buried his face in his hands, feeling utterly helpless.

Since the argument on Tuesday, he had not been able to reach Joanna. Her answering machine would not even pick up. Now it was Friday. He had half hoped she would come to see him on Thursday, but she had not. Now that he thought about it, his reasoning had been absurd. Joanna had so little confidence in their relationship. She would not come see him unless she knew for sure that he wanted her too.

Rod wanted her too. He wanted to see her more than he had ever wanted to see anyone. He feared that she would never want to see him again, never want him to hold her again, to laugh and talk with her. He still worried about her paying all those bills, about her living in a house that had so many bad memories for her, but having her mad at him was no way for him to help. He wanted to talk to her, hold her and take the chance to make it up to her.

Rod remembered that she had mentioned a softball conference at some point . . . he was pretty sure it was the week of the Forth of July. He had to get in touch with her before then. They had plans for the Forth. He planned to keep them.

If she didn’t answer . . . he’s go to Glendale tomorrow without talking to her on the phone.

Rod reached over and picked the phone up and stared at it. Answer, he muttered, dialing her number one more time.

❊ ❊ ❊

The plane slowly pulled down the runway on Saturday morning. Joanna leaned back in her seat and relaxed. She loved the feel that flying brought, soaring high above everything to some new place far away. She traveled so little that she relished even the shortest flights.

And yet . . . she glanced at the shrinking city and wondered where Rod was, what he was doing . . . and if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Joanna fought the image of Rod that bore itself into her consciousness. She had been fighting the feeling of loss for three days now . . . 72 hours . . . over four thousand minutes.

By retreating to Steven's, Joanna knew she had been running away, but being alone in the empty home had not been appealing to her at all. On Wednesday morning she had found the phone on the floor and realized that he could have tried to call her back, but she doubted him doing so. What would he want to do with her? What had she done for him?

When he did not call her by the time she left on Thursday, Joanna doubted there was any hope. Part of her had wanted to go to Dallas as planned, postponing what ever bill she could, but she never got the courage to do so.

She missed him so badly. She wanted to know how he felt. Was he still angry?

Worse than anything, Joanna no longer had the security that she was supposed to pay the bills. It did anger her that Matt did not help her with regular donations. She had always forked out the money. No one had ever questioned the fact, simply for her sake, that her money went into a house that was too large for her . . . and was filled with more bad memories then good.

If I could only talk to Rod . . . .

She wanted to call him, but had not known what to say. That he was right and she was wrong? She couldn’t believe that. How long had Rod Kirkland been back in her life? Three weeks?

Only three weeks . . . it seemed like so much longer. Joanna frowned. It was hard to feel so angry with him when she missed him so much.

What if she called him and he turned her away?

When Steven had driven her to Dallas-Fort Worth International so that she could catch her plane, she had been able to pick out the area where Rod's apartment complex was from the Interstate. The thought of asking Steven to turn off at the exit and take her to Rod had been almost overwhelming, but she had kept quiet.

A small tear slid down Joanna's cheek and she turned her head away from the window and the disappearing Dallas landscape.

She could not forget his gentleness, the way he had held her that morning, only a week ago, tenderly soothing away the pain. She could not forget his strong voice as he read her Psalms so meekly. She could not forget the way he had rescued her from the gas station and gentled her and her fears since then. She could not forget his eyes . . . so very tender.

❊ ❊ ❊

Chad began to pace again. He looked around his sparse apartment. He had rented the two room apartment since he sold the house he had owned with Bethany. For a long time this place had only been a place to sleep.

Ever since meeting Meredith, the simple furnishings seemed bleak. He’d even thought about asking her to paint something for him to hang.

It was hard for him to admit, but he needed to hear her voice. He had not been in that morning when she had come by and signed the papers, and the disappointment surprised him. He was no longer a seventeen year old school-boy. He knew the joy of love as well as the pain of loss.

He shook off the memories, the pain that still rose up like bile.

Now he had a life of his own ...

... and he could not help but wish Meredith in.

"I'll call her," Chad said aloud, only his old basset hound, Boomer, there to hear. The shaggy, but loyal friend only lifted his lazy eyes in surprise.

Chad found his phone from underneath a stack of shirts he needed to iron and dialed Meredith's number without having to look at the slip of paper he had written it on. How many times had he looked at it already? How many times had he tried to think of a reason to call her?

A voice that could only be Brittany's answered. It reminded him that Meredith had a life, and her own troubles too. Chad smiled, already coming to adore the little girl. "Can I speak to Meredith?"

"Hold on," the twelve year old said and Chad heard Meredith's name screamed through the house. He heard a muffled voice and Brittany answered with, "I don't know."

"Hello?"

Her voice sounded good to Chad's ears. "Meredith. Chad Johnson. I was wondering, well Joanna kind of mentioned that you were asking her about churches around here—"

"It's been awhile since I've been home," Meredith told him frankly. “I miss my church, and I want to get my sisters involved somewhere."

"I know Joanna suggested a few," Chad began slowly, "but I wanted to ... well, I wanted to know if you'd like to come with me ... tomorrow... to the church we, I mean Joanna and I go to. It—" he stopped short, realizing that he was rambling. "Would you like to go ... or come ... with me?"

Meredith looked over at Brittany, wanting to get her family back into church. How long had it been since they had gone as a family? "If you'll come for Sunday lunch."

Chad smiled, "That would be good—"

"I would like Britt to come with me," Meredith broke in. "Mom can't come right now ... and Kelly ... Kelly promised to stay home with mom."

Chad picked up on the underlying control in her voice, but refrained from commenting. "I'll pick you up at nine?"

Meredith smiled, her heart beating just a little bit faster at the thought of seeing Chad again. "That sounds great," she told him. Really great.


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