A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(37)

Another broken promise. She could only guess at how many other promises her husband had broken.

Something else rested next to the shopping bag. With determined steps, she walked toward the dresser and opened it wide enough to find a box—a cigar box, of all things. She glared at it as if it were a poisonous snake that was prepared to strike and dig its fangs into her tender skin. She gingerly lifted the lid, and, seeing its contents, she leaped backward. If there was anything more to be discovered, she didn’t have the heart to find out, and she quickly vacated the room, slamming the door behind her.

She checked the time and knew Zach was due home any minute. Mentally, she prepared herself for the upcoming confrontation. In the past, it had been far too easy to ignore what should have been obvious. Laurel had to accept that she’d been willfully blind. All along, she suspected things weren’t right between them. With school, worries about her nana, and the holiday program, it had been far too convenient to look the other way. To pretend.

    She couldn’t—wouldn’t—turn blind eyes to this any longer.

Within a few minutes, Laurel heard the faint click of the front door opening and closing. Zach was home. She braced herself, drawing deep into her inner core for strength, readying herself to face him.

“Laurel?” Zach’s voice echoed through the house.

With her hands folded primly in front of her, she stepped out from the hallway into the living room. Zach had removed his coat and hung it in the front closet.

He smiled when he turned to see her. “You just got home?” he asked, his smile warm and open. If he had been able to read her mood, it was clear he was deciding to ignore it. She recognized those signs, seeing how she’d often used the same avoidance tactic. Talking around a subject, looking to avoid any chance of a squabble or conflict—these strategies had become far too comfortable in their marriage.

She didn’t answer until she noticed he was waiting for her response. “No…I’ve been here for a while now.”

“Are you cold? Is the furnace acting up again?”

    She blinked, finding his question odd. He must have read her puzzlement, because he grinned. “You’re wearing your coat.”

“Oh.” She’d completely forgotten she had it on. Now that she thought about it, she had no idea where her purse was, either, and had to assume it remained in her car.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as she walked past him and went outside to retrieve her purse.

“I’m good,” she said as she returned to the house, purse in hand.

“I know you’re feeling the pressure of this holiday program.”

“I said there isn’t a problem.” Her words were sharp, cold.

He continued to stare at her and apparently thought a change of subject might help. “Did you find time to call about Mrs. Miracle’s references?”

“I did. Everything checked out.”

“That’s great.” He continued to watch her every move.

Laurel could tell he was trying to gauge her mood. She went into the kitchen, needing to lean her back against the counter, for it seemed her knees were once again ready to fail her.

As she knew he would, Zach followed.

“I had a great day. The project I’ve been working on is coming together nicely.” He paused, waiting for a response from her.

    All Laurel was capable of was a simple, singular nod. The lump in her throat tightened, and for the briefest of moments she was tempted to forget what she’d discovered that afternoon. But she knew she couldn’t.

“I got a call after school,” she managed to state, without specifics.

Zach opened the refrigerator door and reached for an apple. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’d rather talk about the phone call.”

“Okay. What was it about?” he said, taking a big crunching bite of his apple. He seemed totally oblivious to what was about to happen.

“It was from Mary Swindoll.”

The words fell between them like an explosion, which, indeed, they were. Explosive. Zach’s eyes rounded, and he carefully, methodically, set the apple down on the kitchen counter. His nonchalant attitude was gone.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what she had to say?” She gestured toward him, indicating that she looked for him to explain why she would receive a cold call from the agency.

“She told you about the website?”

“Oh, she told me much more than that.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed a few times, realizing where the conversation was going. He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his Dockers as Laurel continued.

    “I’ll admit that it came as a complete surprise to learn that you’d gone behind my back and resubmitted our adoption application. Why, Zach? Why would you do that? I’d told you that after losing Jonathan, I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t put my heart through that kind of torture ever again. And you agreed. Only recently, you told me…” The knot in her throat grew so fast it became impossible to finish the sentence.

“I know I should have told you. I…I thought…you know…I thought that we shouldn’t close the door entirely. I figured that by not telling you what I’d done, that I was protecting you. Protecting your heart. If a baby did become available for adoption, then it would be a sweet surprise. I know how badly you wanted to be a mother, and I did it for you, Laurel. For us.” He stretched out his arms as though pleading for her to understand, to believe he’d never do anything to intentionally hurt her.