Part 3 (2/2)

At the end of two hours, Kari's anger and sorrow, her sense of 28 betrayal, were no less than before. But somehow a determination.! had come over her, and with it a clear and holy reminder of a truth-that same one her parents had lived by, the one she and Tim had agreed on before they married.

The truth was this: Love is a decision.

In the wake of Tim's unfaithfulness, her heart urged her to hate him, tell him he wasn't welcome back home, and then never see him again. G.o.d wanted something else. He wanted her to hear her husband's explanation and be willing to forgive, willing to find counseling and make things work. Not because she felt like it, but because it was something she'd decided to do nearly six years ago.

So, in the final hour before Tim's return, Kari pictured a hundred things he might say to her when he first walked through the door, when they first faced each other in light of what had happened. He'd apologize and tell her it was a mistake; he'd promise he'd never lie again. He'd insist the woman was nothing more than a distraction, a pa.s.sing fancy. He'd blame stress at work and the fact that their marriage had fallen into a routine.

But the last thing she expected him to say, the thing she had never imagined he might tell her, was that he no longer wanted to be married.

Tim moved to sit on the sofa and anch.o.r.ed his elbows on his knees, his brows knit, his eyes searching hers. ”Did you hear me?” His voice was quiet, laced with finality. ”I don't want to be married anymore.”

The rage within her was suffocating, but there were no sobs this time, no weeping. ”That's it?” She crossed her arms, trying to ease the sick feeling in her stomach. ”No explanations or promises? Nothing?”

Tim dropped his head in his hands, groaned, and then looked back up at her. ”I should have told you a month ago.”

The sick feeling became a driving nausea, and it welled up in Kari's throat. She wondered if she should race for the bathroom or throw up on the carpet. What's happening? What is this, G.o.d?

29.

Do not be afraid.

This time the silent a.s.surance was too late. Amidst the feelings of pain and anger and even hatred, Kari felt a flash of sheer terror. Were divorce papers drawn up and waiting? Was he planning to move in with this woman? Could that actually happen? Could Tim leave her and marry someone else?

The questions pelted her like hail.

She couldn't live in Bloomington knowing she might run into Tim and his . . .

his student.

The premonition of what her life might soon become was more than she could bear.

She blinked, and the terror faded. In its place her fury was more controlled.

”Who-” her voice was a whisper, her throat pinched-”who is she?”

Tim stared at his hands, and when he glanced up he looked ten years older than before. ”It doesn't matter.”

Again Kari was dumbfounded. ”So you're not denying it? You're seeing someone else?”

”I thought it was a phase.” Tim's eyes remained fixed on hers. ”That it would go away in time.”

Kari tightened her grip on the back of a chair and tried desperately to make sense of what was happening. The nausea was still there, but it was being overtaken by a growing sense of panic. Her emotions swung wildly from fear to anger and back again, and she could think of nothing to say.

After a long pause his gaze fell to his feet again.

He's afraid to look at me. The thought settled like a rock in her empty gut.

”There's no other way to say this, Kari. I want a divorce.” He looked briefly at her. ”I still care for you, but I'm not. . . I'm not in love with you.”

The panic became a tidal wave around her, consuming her. ”You're in love with her?”

Tim made eye contact and gave the faintest shrug. ”I am.”

What was he saying? She could almost feel the hands of angels keeping her from collapsing on the floor. She straightened and 30 paced across the living room and back, stopping directly in front of her husband. ”She's a student, Tim. What is she-nineteen?! twenty?”

For the first time since he'd gotten home, Tim's expression became defensive.

”She's twenty-four, okay? And I met her almost a year ago.”

Kari's head was spinning. ”A year ago?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Who was this woman, and what did she look like? Was she one of the students he had raved about last year? The whole situation was impossible. ”You've been seeing her for a year?”

Tim shook his head and ma.s.saged his fingertips against his temples. ”I met her at the beginning of the spring semester. It didn't get serious until . . . until a few months ago.”

He stood up and threw his hands in the air. ”There's no point to this, Kari.”

His voice was loud, frustrated. ”What I do with my life after you and I divorce is my business.”

The tidal wave came cras.h.i.+ng down, and Kari fell back into the chair again. Her heart raced dangerously fast, and she couldn't grab a full breath. Pain shot down her arms, and there was a heaviness on her chest that grew worse with each pa.s.sing second.

Lord, help me. I'm ailing. Father . . . help!

I am with you.

The gentle whispers in the depths of Kari's soul brought only a fraction of relief, but it was enough to ease the pain and allow her to inhale. ”You owe me more than that, Tim.” She steadied herself and stared up at him. ”She's not your wife. I am.”

Tim opened his fists, took hold of his wedding ring, and slid it off his finger.

”Don't you get it, Kari?” He tossed the ring on the coffee table, shook his head, and sat down. ”It's over. I want out. I don't want to be married anymore.”

As the ring clattered onto the table, something in Kari shut down. It was almost as if a protective s.h.i.+eld had gone up around her heart, a kind of armor that simply would not allow her any more pain. She felt dizzy and sicker than before, yet somehow

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