chapter
12
Clark had been gone for two hours. But his words were still right there with me.
My heart was screaming for me to go home, but my head was trying to be the voice of reason. My heart wanted me to forgive; my head wanted to wallow in my anger. But I was tired of being angry.
I gently ran my finger along the manila envelope that Clark had left. It was probably some long note about why I should give him a second chance. He’d won my heart by writing me love letters when we first started dating after I’d moved from Lawton and began reporting in Oklahoma City and he was working his way up the ranks of the Boys & Girls Club in Dallas. His letters had touched my soul, and for that reason I almost threw this new envelope in the trash. But I could feel that there were several items inside, and curiosity got the best of me.
I sat on the edge of the bed, flipped the envelope over, gently eased it open, and dumped the contents out on the bed.
The first thing that caught my eye was our wedding picture. I picked it up and didn’t know whether to smile or cry. This had been the happiest day of my life, followed only by the day I found out I was pregnant. But this was back when I believed in fairy tales and happily ever after. Back when I didn’t know that my dream would end with a nightmare.
I tossed the picture aside and picked up a card. The cursive writing on the front let me know it was one of those Mayflower sappy greeting cards. I opened the card, read the heartwarming message about a “forever love,” then Clark’s handwritten note at the bottom.
While you grieve, I’m here.
When you’re finished grieving, I’ll still be here.
I’m never going anywhere.
Love you always and forever, Clark
That brought a tear to my eye. Clark had slid this card to me one of the days when I wouldn’t get up off the sofa.
I sifted through some more items from the bag until I came to one of those plastic stretchy bracelets. I picked it up and read the inscription: The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Clark had slid this onto my wrist one night as I slept. I’d worn it the entire time I was trying to recover from my grief. I’d tossed it once God refused to honor my wish to get pregnant again. I couldn’t believe Clark had dug the bracelet out of the trash and hung on to it all this time.
I fell back against the headboard. I didn’t want these things to get to me, yet they were. I hated that all of this was affecting me. All of this was reminding me that, while I despised what Clark had done, it didn’t change the fact that I loved him from the bottom of my heart.
After years of not praying, a small prayer entered my heart.
Dear Lord, please help me figure this out. Give me some kind of sign of what I should do.
I waited a moment, and of course, there was nothing.
“So much for that whole prayer works thing,” I mumbled.
I went back to sifting through the stuff. There were more love notes, mementos from special times in our lives. I hadn’t realized that Clark had kept all this stuff. I had gone through just about everything when I spotted a long white envelope I’d never seen before. I picked it up and saw a postmark from two days ago.
I glanced at the return address: Gilman Adoption Agency. My heart quickened as I turned the letter over and tore it open. I pulled out a piece of paper and began reading.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Graham,
It is our extreme honor to tell you that we have located an older child in need of a home. With your preliminary paperwork, everything has been approved and we’d love for you to come meet eight-year-old Franklin. We’d love to arrange this meeting at your earliest convenience. Franklin would love to meet you and I think you guys are going to adore him. Please call my office to schedule.
Sincerely,
The Gilman Adoption Agency
The letter trembled in my hand. A picture was attached to the back of Franklin’s data sheet. The boy was missing a front tooth, but he grinned like he was the happiest child in the world. He wore a Houston Astros T-shirt, and though he looked a little malnourished, he didn’t appear to have a care in the world.
He looked like the child I’d always dreamed I’d have.
I had lost everything. My baby. The ability to have children, my mother, my marriage, and now that I was coming to terms with that, God wanted to send this precious little boy into my life? What kind of madness was this?
A child.
I’d asked for a sign and I’d gotten a child.
I noticed another handwritten note from Clark at the bottom of the letter. He must have opened the envelope and sealed it back up.
Savannah,
I didn’t want to tell you about this because I don’t want you to come back to me just for him. I want you to come back to me for us, because you want our marriage. Because you love me. I wanted you to recognize, on your own, that you and I were put on this earth to give this child a home. My prayer tonight and every night is that you will take this as a sign that we were meant to be. All three of us.
Love forever,
Clark
My dream of motherhood was about to come true. But would I go back to Clark just because of a child?
I glanced over at the tattered book that had stopped me from making a mistake. If I had slept with Wilson, the guilt alone would’ve kept me from going back. Though vengeance had seemed right at the time, it wasn’t who I was. And I was grateful that I hadn’t crossed that line.
I picked the book up and wondered about its history as I remembered Clark reading verses as he tried to pull me out of my grief. I hadn’t purposely opened this book, and yet it had changed my life by reminding me that my broken heart could be healed.
And with that revelation, I knew . . .
I set the book back on the nightstand, then stood and started throwing things into my bag. I was going home . . . not for the love of a child. I was going home for love.
I threw my bag over my shoulder, then headed to the door. I stopped and looked back around Room 316. I’d come here with my eyes closed, blinded by pain. And though the pain was still there, I chose happiness. I knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but Clark, Franklin, and I, we were going to see it through.