The Baby Promise. Carolyne Aarsen
and Ellen lowered their heads and folded their hands and Nick followed suit.
“Dear Lord, we thank You that we know You are our refuge and strength in this world even though all we see sometimes is sorrow and pain. We thank You that You care for us. Help us as we struggle with Jim’s death. Give us strength and help us to understand…” As Bob’s voice faltered, a shard of iron entered Nick’s soul.
God hadn’t heard their prayers for their son’s safety, had He? And what about my parents? Where was He when they died?
Yet as Bob prayed Nick found he couldn’t hold on to his anger, and in the face of this man’s sincere faith and trust in God, his soul softened.
“…but we know that all things work together for good, and we trust that’s going to happen now. Thank You for Your word to us that You will never leave us or forsake us. Help us to cling to that word. Amen.”
Nick kept his head lowered a moment, Bob’s words like a touch of hope in Nick’s lonely life.
Jim had said his parents were churchgoers. Nick had assumed their attendance was a community thing the way Jim had spoken of it. The kind of thing rural people did as a way of connecting with each other. Yet when Bob prayed, it was as if he truly believed God listened to what he said. As if Bob and God had a special relationship.
“Jim talked about you a lot, Nick,” Ellen said. “And we feel like we know you the way he did. Jim told us that you, like him, were an only child. He said that your parents died when you were eighteen and that you don’t have much extended family.” Ellen paused, glanced at Bob, then looked back at Nick. “I’m guessing you don’t have many obligations yet because of your medical discharge. And I’m sure that you can find work, but I’m also sure you could use the rest. The quiet. So…what I’d like to let you know…what we’d like to let you know…is we would love to have you stay for a while. As long as you like or need to. With us.”
Nick sat back, surprised. Though Jim had told him his parents were hospitable and generous, he hadn’t expected this.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” was all he could stammer out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to make that kind of commitment. When he had received his discharge, he had initially felt as if the ground had been cut out from under him. All he had known since he was eighteen was the army.
Then, once he got used to the idea, a sense of freedom overtook him. He had possibilities and a chance to start over. A chance to put what happened in Afghanistan behind him.
Staying with Bob and Ellen would be a constant reminder of the accident.
And seeing Beth regularly?
Bob leaned forward, his eyes holding Nick’s. “We’re lonely, too. And losing Jim…” His voice faltered again.
Nick hesitated, digging through his confusion for the right words. “I’m really thankful for the offer…but I don’t think I can—”
Ellen held up her hand, a smile tinged with sorrow lifting her mouth. “We don’t want you to feel any obligation and we certainly don’t want to put any pressure on you, so please don’t feel like you have to say yes. We thought it would be good for all of us to spend time together.”
His mind skipped back to the ranch he grew up on. The security of his home life and the love of his parents.
Then he thought of facing Beth every day for the next few days and he shook his head. “I appreciate your very generous offer, but I’m sorry.”
Ellen’s smile faltered but she nodded. “Of course. You have things to do. I understand. And I’m sure Beth will, too.”
Nick thought back to his brief conversation with Beth. How she had “absolved” him of his obligation. He had a feeling that, in her opinion, there was nothing to understand or care about.
“Would you be willing to at least stay the night?” Bob asked, leaning forward, hope in his voice.
Nick bit his lip, then a sigh eased out of him. “Sure. I’ll stay the night,” he said.
How hard could it be to spare these people one evening of his time?
“Are you sure you only need two weeks here?” Beth’s brother asked as Beth shifted the phone to her other ear, plumping a pillow and adjusting a plant while she listened.
Though Art had told her clearly that she had to call at 7:30 p.m. on the dot, when she’d dutifully made the call he wasn’t home. Nor was he home at eight or nine.
So she’d called him first thing this morning and as a result, had woken him up. Not the wisest move, but Beth forced herself to put up with Art’s early-morning surliness because he had something she wanted.
A room and a bed in a town house in Vancouver.
“I’m not due for another five weeks,” Beth said, forcing herself to speak quietly as she walked around her house, tidying an already achingly neat living room. “I only need two to three weeks to find my own place so I can settle in before the baby is born.”
“You sure you don’t want to move in with Curt and Denise?”
“Be realistic, Art. You saw how cramped things were when we got together there for Christmas.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“And with Mom living there, there’s really no room.”
Their brother, Curt, and his wife, Denise, lived in a tiny mobile home in a town so small that if a person glanced sideways, they’d miss it. There were no opportunities for Beth there and, as she had told Art, no room in the trailer.
“Okay. You can come. As long as it’s only a couple of weeks and it’s just you, and no kid. I’ve got another guy coming after you and I can’t have you around if you have a kid.”
Beth clutched the phone, pressing back the words threatening to spill out. That the “kid” she carried was his niece or nephew seemed lost on Art. But then, Art had never been the most tactful nor the most considerate of her brothers.
Then a tightening seized her abdomen, as if her baby also protested the situation. She laid a hand over her stomach, as if to settle the child.
“Don’t worry, Art. I won’t cramp your lifestyle.” The angry words spilled out before she could stop them.
“Hey, little sis, I didn’t mean it that way,” Art said, instantly remorseful. “It’s just, well, I’m kind of under the gun at work and things are piling up personally. Well, you know how things are with me and Abby…”
Beth made some appropriate noises even though she had a hard time feeling sorry for a man who had been putting off his wedding date for the past five years.
“So, well, that’s the deal. Uh, are you doing okay?” Art asked, giving his version of sympathy. “You know, with Jim gone and all?”
“I’m doing okay,” she said, her anger sifting away in the light of his confused concern.
“You still working?”
“Yeah. Part-time at the craft store and I—”
“Becker. Get out of there.” Art’s sudden yell made her jump. “Hey, Beth. Sorry. Gotta run. Becker’s digging in his dog food again.”
A click in her ear told Beth that the conversation and Art’s sympathy had come to an abrupt halt.
Though she should know better, Beth felt the prick of tears. Neither Art nor Curt were the storybook brothers her friends in school had thought they were. Thirteen years separated her and Art, the youngest of her two brothers. By the time Beth had come into the family, the boys were in their teens, interested in cars, women and anything but a little sister who cried a lot and, as she grew older, loved to dress up and play with dolls. Anything she had to say to them was greeted with grunts, blank stares