It seemed to Rachel, that nearly everyone rose to their feet, including Gram and Hans. She was slow to rise herself, uncertain whether she should be allowed to vote, but a woman from the row in front of her turned around, reaching over to pull her up by the shoulder, and she squeezed the stranger's hand with a grateful smile.
–48–
The kids from the youth group had done a terrific job. Michael congratulated them, thanked them heartily, and then escaped to his church. After managing that huge audience and its myriad of surprises, he wanted some time to himself.
He'd imagined those last few minutes of Luke's life many times before, always taking comfort in the fact that, in the end, his old friend had not been lucid, not truly aware of what was going on around him. But apparently that had not been the case. Luke had had one last agonizing moment of sanity when he'd realized the children were in danger. The thought of him suffering that moment of awareness was nearly too much for Michael to bear.
He had the church to himself, and he sat in a pew near the front. He closed his eyes, and the welcome quiet filled him like something tangible, something he could pull into his heart.
Thank you, Lord, for giving Lily and Jacob such courage. And please give me the courage to do what I know I have to do. I've been dishonest, I know.
In the past few weeks, he'd often felt abandoned by God, but he sensed his presence here, inside him now.
Give me the courage to be honest with you and with myself. And please help my son understand. Help me be a good father to him.
Keep Rachel safe on her journey. She's not much of a believer, but she's an excellent person. Some of your best work.
He finished praying but sat with his eyes closed a few minutes longer, drinking in the silence. Then he stood up and walked downstairs to his office. He had some phone calls to make.
* * *
It was nearly ten by the time he got home that night and Katy met him at the kitchen door.
"Jace is terribly upset," she said. "He can't sleep. He says that every time he closes his eyes, he sees Luke Pierce and the grenade."
Katy and Jace had sat in the front row of the auditorium during the Reflection Day program, and Michael had been aware of his son's rapt attention while Lily and Jacob were speaking.
He walked down the hall to Jason's bedroom, Katy close behind him. Jace was sitting up in bed, the light on behind him and a book in his hands.
"Can't sleep?" Michael sat down on the bed. Katy leaned against the edge of the desk.
"I'm not tired," Jace said. "I just wanted to read awhile."
"We heard some shocking things today, huh?"
Jace shrugged.
"I think a lot of people will have trouble sleeping tonight," Michael said. "People thought they knew exactly what happened that day at Spring Willow School, and now suddenly they know it wasn't that way at all. Gives people a lot to think about."
"Lily and Mr. Holt were very brave," Katy said, and Michael nodded.
Jace lowered his book to his lap. "Now everyone all of a sudden thinks Rachel Huber's okay," he said. "I still can't stand her."
Michael was about to protest, but Katy beat him to it. "You've never even met her, Jason," she said.
"I just think she messed things up." He shot Michael a look.
"Well, you know, Jace," Michael said, "sometimes things have to be messed up before they can be made better. Sometimes it helps to shake things up a bit."
Jason scowled. "That's stupid," he said.
"I don't think so."
"Things are messed up with you and Mom, aren't they? Are they going to get better?"
Michael looked at Katy. She was biting her lower lip.
"Yes," Michael said, "things are going to get better, but it will take some time, and the end result may not be exactly what you would like it to be."
"What do you mean?"Jace looked at him suspiciously.
"Mom and I have a lot of talking to do. We have to figure out what to do about our mess."
Jason closed his book and set it on the nightstand. "Well, figure it out soon, okay?" he asked. Then he rolled onto his side, facing the wall.
Michael touched his shoulder. "We'll try," he said, standing up.
Katy leaned over to kiss her son's cheek. "Good night, honey," she said.
They walked in silence into the family room. Michael wished Jason could somehow be spared the problems between them.
Katy sat down on the couch. "I was proud of you today," she said, "watching you up there with those kids. Up till now, no one's ever had the guts to say, 'Let's be done with this.'"
"Thanks," he said. "I thought the kids were wonderful."
"I was watching you and thinking, 'What did I ever see in Drew?'" She wrung her hands in her lap. "I just don't know how I could have done what I did. It seems like some other woman did it, not me."
He sat down at the far end of the couch. "I've forgiven you, Katy," he said. "When are you going to forgive yourself?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. I felt guilty the whole time I was involved with Drew, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I was operating on pure emotion, for the first time in my life. And it was too much for me. I wasn't used to it. I let it get the better of me. I know you've always wanted me to be a more emotional person, but I think I instinctively knew it was a part of myself I had to keep in check."
He listened to her carefully. It wasn't like Katy to talk about herself this way.
"Mennonite schools shelter you from so much," she said. "I was never allowed to express myself or think about what I needed. And even when I started going to public schools, it was so ingrained in me…" She lifted her hands in the air a few inches and dropped them in frustration. "I was never really allowed to be myself, Michael. I never had a single second of rebellion."
"Until now."
"Yes. I've always been so logical. So rational—"
He laughed. "That you are, Katy."
She looked hurt. "And I know that's bothered you, but it's who I am, and I'm comfortable that way. I think a logical, rational person is just as valuable to society as someone who operates on emotion all the time. Maybe even more so."
He nodded. "You're probably right."
She brushed her hair away from her face. "So what do we do about our mess, Michael?" she asked.
"I think we need to separate." There. The words had slipped out easily.
Katy lowered her eyes quickly to her hands. It was a minute before she spoke. "You're going to lose—"
"I know what I'm losing. This isn't a decision I've come to lightly."
She smoothed the tip of her thumb across the nail on her index finger, over and over again. "I feel like I deserve to lose you after what I've done," she said. Her nose was red.
"Come here." He patted the sofa next to him, and she scooted over. He put his arm around her. "My decision has very little—nothing, in fact—to do with what happened between you and Drew."
"I know you haven't really been happy in our marriage," she said, her voice thick. "You've always seemed very satisfied in other parts of your life, but not with me."
"Can you honestly say you've been happy with me?" he asked.
"Early on I was." She studied her fingernail. "In recent years, no. But I knew we were an odd match from the start. It just seemed very important to stay together. The cost of splitting up was—and still is, I think—way too high. I know that if we put our individual happiness first, splitting up is the right thing to do. But I'd be willing to put my own happiness on a back burner, for Jace's sake. For the sake of the church."
"I'm not willing," he said firmly. "It's dishonest. The worst hypocrisy, the worst lie I can imagine"
She was quiet a minute. Her tears had stopped, and he felt the stiffness in her shoulder beneath his hand. She'd always felt that way, he realized with a jolt. Always that stiff, cool stoniness in her body.
"You never actually told me how far things have gone between you and Rachel," she said
finally.
He wasn't sure how to respond. He didn’t want to hurt her. "How much do you want to know?" he asked.
"The truth."
"Rachel and I have had a friendship this summer," he said. "We were attracted to each other, but we didn't act on that attraction until I learned about you and Drew."
Katy groaned, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm a fool," she said.
"It doesn't matter, Katy," he said. "The physical side of my relationship with Rachel is almost immaterial. My connection to her goes way beyond that. It's a stronger bond than I've ever had with anyone, except maybe Luke."
"I resent her," Katy said irritably. "I always have. Even when we were teenagers. I knew even then that you adored her. And I do remember that time you were asking about the other day. That time after the basketball game. But I'm ashamed of it. I'd just started public school then, and I was trying so hard to fit in, which I never actually did, I guess. But I was trying, nevertheless, and if I'd aligned myself with you in that instance I thought I'd be dead socially forever. I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago," he said, though his words sounded hollow. He could forgive her the most recent transgression, but for some reason her role in that incident would always haunt him. "Rachel was the catalyst for all this," he said, "but she's not the cause. There's a difference."
"She's definitely going to Rwanda?"
"Zaire. Yes."
"Are you upset that she's leaving?"
"No. It's going to be very good for her, and it will be good for me to have the time on my own. I need to think and pray." He sighed. "And, I guess, to look for a new place to live…and a new job."
She shifted away from him on the couch and pounded her fist on her thigh, her first show of anger. He imagined there was more where that came from. "How can you possibly give this all up?" she asked.
"I have to, or I'll be of no use to anyone."
"I'm so angry with you," she said. "And with myself. We should never have let things get out of hand this way. I'm not ready to give everything up, Michael."
"I won't go on living a lie," he said. "The lie might please you and it might please the church, but it doesn't please God. That much I'm sure of."
She lowered her head, taking in a few long breaths. When she raised her eyes to him again, they were red. "I'm afraid," she said softly. "Of the unknown. Of all we have to go through."
"Katy," he smiled at her, "do you realize that tonight is probably the first time you've ever talked to me about how you feel about anything?"
"I know," she said. "But it's too late, isn't it?"
"Yes," he agreed, taking her hand. "It's way too late."
–49–
Michael found all five of the elders waiting for him in the smaller of the church meeting rooms. Lewis Klock looked up when he walked through the door, then nodded at the one empty chair in the circle, next to Celine.
Celine gave him a questioning smile as he took the seat.
Michael looked around the circle. He couldn’t bear the mixture of hope and worry that lined Lewis's face, or Jim Rausch's troubled frown. Samuel Morgan and Ed Flynn, sitting rigid as statues, were even less comforting to behold, and Celine rubbed an imaginary spot on her skirt with the tip of her index finger.
"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice," Michael began. "I felt that it was important for me to address this issue without delay."
Lewis, Celine, and Jim nodded, but Ed and Samuel maintained their stoic reserve. Ed folded his hands neatly on his knees.
"I need your prayers, brothers and sister." Michael wanted to get directly to the point. "Katy and I have decided to end our marriage."
Lewis let out his breath and leaned back in his seat, a resigned look on his face.
Celine touched Michael's hand. "Oh, Michael," she said, "I'm sorry."
Ed clucked his disgust. "'He must not be a recent convert, or he may become conceited and fall under the same judgment as the devil,'" he quoted.
"Michael," Jim leaned toward him. "Is this a mutual decision between you and Katy?"
Michael looked at the ceiling as though he might find the answer in the acoustic tiles. "Katy and I both recognize that our marriage is not a good one," he said slowly. "I know we've given the appearance of being a happy and contented couple, but that's all it's been—an appearance. It was too painful and too frightening to admit to the problems, so I guess we kept them hidden, from ourselves as well as from others. Katy would be willing to stay in our marriage for the sake of our son and the church." He shook his head. "But I can't do that. I can't continue to preach honesty and openness when all the while I'm living a lie."
"Wasn't fair to you that they ordained you," Ed said. "You grew up with worldly values. A zebra can't change his stripes."
Michael willed the elder's patronizing comments to roll off his back.
"Where exactly does Rachel Huber fit into all of this?" Samuel asked.
He'd known the question was coming. The answer was easy. "Rachel's responsible for changing many things in Reflection recently," he said, "but she's not responsible for ending my marriage. I fully admit to you that I love her deeply, that I would like eventually to have a loving and permanent relationship with her. Her presence has forced me to take a hard look at my marriage, to recognize that it is an empty shell."
"Convenient," Ed muttered.
Michael ignored him. "Even if Rachel were to go back to San Antonio and swear she would never see me again, I would still end my marriage."
Lewis sat up straight, the kindness in his wise old eyes a sudden refuge of warmth in the room. "I'm sorry about your decision, Michael," he said gently, "and I know you're aware that such a decision carries enormous consequences."
"Yes," he said.
"You were right to bring this to us right away," Lewis continued. "I'll take care of Sunday's sermon. Will you come and address the congregation during the sharing period?"
Michael nodded, but for the first time since the meeting had begun, his throat threatened to close up on him. He would be in the pews on Sunday. Lewis would be in the pulpit.
Lewis studied him for another moment before bowing his head. "Let us pray," he said as they lowered their heads. "Heavenly father, Michael needs your love and guidance right now, and we need your wisdom to know how to handle this situation. Please show us your will in this matter, and give our entire congregation strength and tolerance. Amen."
"Amen." Michael whispered his response, and Lewis looked at him again.
"The elders will need to meet privately for a while, Michael," he said. "We must pray together and ask God to help us in our decision."
Michael rose from his seat. He knew what their decision would be. He was ready for it. "I'll be at home this evening," he said. "You can reach me there."
If anyone said good-bye to him as he left the room, he didn't hear them. He walked down the hall and up the stairs and was about to leave the church when he changed his mind. Instead, he walked into the sanctuary and sat down in one of the rear pews. He needed some time to himself—time to grieve all he was about to lose and to celebrate all he was about to gain.
–50–
From her seat on the porch swing Rachel watched Michael's car pull into the driveway and come to a stop in front of the garden. She knew where he'd been, and as she walked down the porch steps to meet him, the tension that had been with her all afternoon threatened to break loose.
The muscles in his face were set and unsmiling, and he said nothing as he pulled her into an embrace. She held him tightly, aware that he was drawing strength from her and wanting to give him all she could.
After a long moment, they pulled apart.
"Do you want me to cancel the trip to Zaire?" she offered. "I feel like you need me around right now."
"Yes, I need you," he said, "but no, I don't want you to cancel your trip. I want you to go." His eyes told her that he meant it.
"Tell me what happened," she asked.
> They walked up the stairs to the porch and sat down on the swing, and he told her in detail about his meeting with the elders.
"What do you think they'll do?" she asked.
"I know exactly what they'll do," he said. "They'll notify the bishop, and my ordination will be pulled sometime this week, I would guess. Only I plan to step down voluntarily from my ministry tonight." His voice was flat, but sure and steady, and Rachel knew his mind was made up.
"It seems like such an extreme response," she said. "To lose a good minister."
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I can't be a good minister without the trust and confidence of my congregation," he said. "I can still be a good Mennonite, though. I always will be. That's portable, like prayer. Something no one can ever take away from me."
"What will you say to the congregation on Sunday?" She could imagine how painful that church service was going to be for him.
"I'll be brief," he said. "I'll tell them that Katy and I are separating, and that I'm leaving the ministry. I'll say I'm sorry for any discomfort I've caused them over the past couple of months, and I'll ask everyone to continue to welcome Katy and Jason. Katy and Jace are going to need the support of their church community more than ever."
Rachel swallowed a bitter retort. "It bothers me that you have to shoulder all the responsibility for the end of your marriage," she said.
"The decision is mine." Michael brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "Regardless of anything Katy did."
Rachel rested her head on his shoulder. "Will people blame me?" she asked.
"Does it matter?"
No. She knew it didn't. There would always be people who couldn’t forgive her. But she had found her own peace.
Michael ran the back of his fingers softly across her shirt where it covered her breast. "I told Katy that the physical side of our relationship was insignificant," he said with a smile in his voice. "I lied."