Her Wedding Wish

Help him find his way back to me, please, Lord, she prayed in the darkness. She kissed her husband’s forehead and tiptoed from the room.

Chapter Three

“Sorry.”

Danielle glanced up from pouring Jonas a second cup of morning coffee. “What are you sorry for?”

“Falling asleep.” He didn’t look at her as he concentrated on wrapping his hands around his spoon. Long months of hard rehabilitation had helped, but his motor skills were still limited.

She popped open the top of the flavored coffee creamer and poured it for him and then added some into her own cup. “It was a big day for all of us yesterday, with you coming home.”

“You’re dis-disappointed.” He stumbled on the word.

Since she couldn’t admit that, not without hurting him, she set the carafe on the ruffled blue place mat at Tyler’s empty place and slipped into the chair. “Are you?”

He gulped. “Could be easier.”

She nodded, seeing now what she’d been too busy this morning to notice, getting Tyler ready for the church summer program and keeping Madison out of trouble. Jonas had managed to dress himself in a sweatshirt and jeans, but the sweatshirt hung on him, twisted to the left. His feet beneath the table were in socks, not shoes. “I should have helped you more this morning. I’m sorry. I won’t forget again.”

“You helped enough.” Jonas straightened his shoulders, as if his pride were involved, too. “The kids first.”

“Yes. That’s what we agreed back in Seattle, but—” She stared down into her steaming mug, unable to find any answers in the dark depths. She’d let him down, and that’s the one thing she didn’t want to do. Somehow she had to figure out a way to manage everything on her own. “It’s going to be difficult for a while, but I don’t mind working hard for you, Jonas. For the kids. For us.”

He swallowed hard, as if her words mattered to him, and turned in his chair toward the wall. “Our wedding pictures.”

“Yes.” She looked at them, too. How young and carefree they seemed back then. On impulse, she rose and plucked the collage frame from the wall. “There are some of the reprints I framed up from that day. I should dig out our wedding album. It’s in the closet somewhere out of reach, for safekeeping.”

“You’re smiling. It must have been a good day.”

“One of the best of my life.”

She laid the gold frame on the table, and he moved his coffee cup aside to make room. As they leaned forward to study the pictures together, she smelled the scent of his shampoo and the soap on his skin. Her heart cinched a notch. Yes, she thought, tenderly, he was still her Jonas. “If you notice, you’re smiling, too.”

“Yep. I look pretty happy.”

“You were.”

She touched her fingertip to the glass frame, where they’d just parted from sharing their first kiss as man and wife. Hand in hand, they stood smiling, facing their family and friends with the jeweled light from the sun-drenched stained glass gracing them. Their happiness was palpable, so shining and new. “I wish you could remember how that felt to finally be married. To be together with the whole world at our feet.”

“Was our marriage good?”

She noticed the concern in his eyes, the sadness on his face and the wonder. It was not fair that one bullet had stolen so much from him. At least she had the memories of their love. At least she knew what they could have again. “It was very good.”

“We were close.”

“Yes. Very close.”

He nodded once in acknowledgment but not in understanding.

How did she tell him that was her greatest fear? That they might never find one another again. They might never again share that rare close bond they’d had. Grief stabbed deep into her soul, and she fought it away. She had to keep her faith strong and believe that God would not forsake them. “We were best friends. Best…everything.”

“E-very-thing.” Jonas lingered over that word, as if he were trying to figure out what that meant. He remained bent over the pictures.

She moved away and took the carafe with her to rinse in the sink. All around them, hung on the walls or in stand-alone frames or snapshots tacked to their refrigerator, were photographs of their life together, of the babies and of the kids growing up. Of a happier time—her soul ached with sadness for the loss of that happy, innocent time when Jonas was whole.

It wasn’t fair to keep wishing for the past, she thought as she turned to the sink, rinsed out the pot and slipped it into the top rack of the dishwasher. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonas struggling to stand, his attention focused on one of the photographs on the wall. She leaned a little to see what he stared at with such fascination. Her heart stopped when she recognized the picture. It was of her, propped up in a hospital bed, exhausted from forty-one hours of labor and cradling their precious son in her arms.

He did not remember that day, she realized, or how happy they were and how proud he was. She closed the dishwasher quietly, feeling reality settle into the damaged places in her heart.

When he looked away, she saw his eyes were silvered with tears. Tears that did not fall as he blinked them away and straightened his shoulders. Strong—that was her Jonas, always strong.

“I’ll help you to remember,” she promised him with all the strength and faith in her soul. “It’s going to be all right.”

In the corner, untouched by the sunlight that tumbled through the big picture window, Jonas nodded. He didn’t look as if he believed her. Not one bit.

There was a knock at the front door—the quick tap-tap of her mom’s signature knock. Already her key was in the lock and the doorknob was turning. The security system chimed as the front door swung open. Danielle straightened, turned off the faucet and reached for the dish towel to dry her hands.

“Knock, knock. Hello!” Dorrie’s smile was bright, as always. She was a wonder and an incredible mother.

Danielle knew she paled by comparison. “Come on in. I just washed out the coffeepot. I can make fresh.”

“I had my morning quota, my dear. Jonas, it’s great to see you home—” Her pleasant voice was drowned out by Madison shouting from the living room.

“Grammy! Grammy! Grammy!” Bare feet padded on the carpet and then on the linoleum as the little girl—today a mermaid—burst into sight, flinging her arms wide and wrapping them tightly around her grandmother’s knees.

“Hi, honey. Are you going to let Grammy take you to your swimming lessons?”

“Yip. I kin blow bubbles and kick!” Soft brown curls tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned her head back to grin up at her grandmother.

“I can’t wait to see. Do you have your bag all packed?”

Danielle chimed in. “I got it half-finished. It’s on the foot of her bed, I just have to grab a towel.”

“I’ll do that. No worries. What time is Jonas’s appointment?”

“Nine-thirty.” Danielle glanced at the clock on the stove. “We should leave in a few minutes.”

“I’ll finish up here, too. That’s why I’m here, to help out. I’ll have lunch all ready when you get back. Jonas, I hope you still like tuna casserole.”

“Y-yes.” Jonas was struggling with his walker to get around the table. His left leg was very stiff.

She resisted the need to run to his side. For him it was a matter of pride.

He ambled toward her, but his gaze was on their little daughter, in her mermaid shirt and matching pants, her soft curls and sweetness.

“Madison,” he said. “I like to swim, too.”

The little girl’s eyes widened, and she sidled around to hide behind her grandmother. She stared at Jonas and didn’t say anything at all.