Firstborn Read online

  He thought of his own marriage again. He’d come plenty close to cheating on Paula—more than once, if he was honest with himself—and it had been circumstances that kept him from following through with the inclination more than any decision in favor of fidelity.

  Why was that?

  He gave his head a small shake, as if to clear it. He needed to tell Paula about Kirsten, and he didn’t need God’s help—or anybody else’s—to do it.

  He stepped to his desk and punched his secretary’s extension on the phone. “Karla, reschedule this afternoon’s meeting with the development team to tomorrow morning. Then call the Table Top and make a dinner reservation for two at six-thirty tonight.”

  Lost deep in thought after leaving Dallas’s office, Steven wasn’t certain how he ended up on the highway that overlooked Lucky Peak Reservoir. But suddenly, there he was. He supposed he should be grateful he hadn’t caused a traffic accident since he hadn’t been paying attention to the road.

  Up ahead, he recognized the turnoff to the old swimming cove. Without a second thought, he flipped on his signal and pressed down on the brake, then negotiated the hairpin turn off the highway. The wheels kicked up a cloud of dust as they left asphalt and hit dirt and gravel.

  It had been years since he’d driven down this road, but it seemed like only yesterday. It was familiar, a part of his youth imprinted indelibly in his mind. The three of them had come here all the time.

  The three of them.

  Steven, Erika, and Dallas.

  Arriving at the end of the road, he stopped the car, shoved it into park, and cut the engine.

  Steven, Erika, and Dallas.

  Steven and Erika.

  Erika and Dallas.

  He opened the car door and got out, then followed the footpath to the water. The floating docks were still there, looking weathered and sun bleached. Water lapped against the shore, stirred by a boat that had moved along the main channel of the reservoir half a minute before.

  Steven sank onto the ground, not caring if his trousers got dirty. Not caring about much of anything these days.

  Erika and Dallas.

  It had meant nothing to them, their time together, or so they’d both insisted. But it meant plenty to Steven.

  How often had the three of them lain upon one of those docks, baking in the hot summer sun? How often had Dallas helped Erika as she learned to come out of the water on one ski instead of two, holding her by the waist to steady her while Steven drove the boat?

  Was it then, as Dallas helped her, that the seeds of their affair had been born?

  He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched so tight his head hurt.

  He’d told Dallas that he and Erika would make it with God’s help. Only he hadn’t asked for help. Not really. He felt far from God, cut adrift from his faith.

  He’d asked Dallas to forgive him for striking out, but he hadn’t done any forgiving in return. He couldn’t.

  He opened his eyes again, glaring up at the sun.

  “I can’t!” he shouted. “Don’t ask me to!”

  The restaurant wasn’t crowded on that Tuesday evening, for which Dallas was thankful. Just enough people to make their dinner public. Not so many to make it too noisy for a serious conversation.

  The perfect place and time to tell Paula about Erika… and a young woman named Kirsten.

  They talked about business during supper, Dallas sharing his thoughts on a possible buyout of a technology firm in California, Paula revealing plans for a second phase of development in one of Henry & Associates’ gated subdivisions.

  It wasn’t until they’d finished their dessert—cherries jubilee, Paula’s favorite—that Dallas broached the difficult topic. “Paula, I’ve got a confession to make.”

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  “I had an ulterior motive in bringing you here.”

  “If this is about me seeing the doctor, I told you I’ve made an—”

  “It isn’t about that.”

  She stopped, uncertainty in her gaze. “Oh.”

  He reached across the white tablecloth, placing his hand over hers. He forced himself to maintain eye contact, despite his inclination to look away. “It’s kind of complicated, and I’m not sure how to begin.”

  She worried her lower lip.

  Dallas took a deep breath, then plunged forward. “I told you Erika and Steve are having some problems. Well, part of it’s because she kept a secret from him for a lot of years.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “I need you to know that I didn’t have a clue about any of this. I would have said something long before now if I had.”

  “You look grim. What is it?”

  “Years ago, when I was a college freshman, something happened between Erika and me.”

  “Something? What do you mean by something, Dallas? Are you telling me that you and she…?” Paula let her voice trail into silence.

  “Yes.”

  She pulled her hand from beneath his and planted it firmly in her lap. Her entire body stiffened as she waited for him to continue.

  Dallas leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t an affair. It was booze and a couple of lusty kids. That’s all it was, and it didn’t last. It wasn’t long before we couldn’t stand to be around each other. Next thing I knew, she went off to school back East somewhere. I didn’t see or hear about her for years. Not until after Steve got his degree and came back to Boise. He started dating Erika again; then they got married.”

  “Did Steven know about you two?”

  “No.”

  “But he does now?”

  Dallas nodded.

  “That’s why you’re telling me this? Because Steven found out?”

  “Yes.”

  “You and she aren’t—”

  “No!”

  She visibly relaxed. “Well, then, I guess I can live with it. That was all such a long time ago.”

  “There’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Erika got pregnant. She had a baby girl that she gave up for adoption.”

  “Your baby?”

  He nodded again. “I didn’t know, Paula. She never told me. She’s kept it a secret from everybody all these years. Until last week.” Now he looked away, turning his gaze toward the windows overlooking the city from the fifteenth floor of the building. “The girl did a search and found Erika and wrote to her. Now she’s coming here to work or live or something. That’s why Erika finally told Steve the truth. And then she told me.”

  “Dallas, if you were a college freshman when this happened, the girl must be… she must be nearly as old as I am!”

  He felt himself aging right before his wife’s eyes. “Well, not quite. I think Erika said she’ll be twenty-two come August.”

  Paula was thirty.

  Sometimes eight years’ age difference was too much. Sometimes it wasn’t enough.

  Sixteen

  Lying in bed, Erika felt Steven reach over and turn off his alarm before it could ring. But he didn’t rise immediately.

  “Steven.” Her heart hammered in her chest as she rolled onto her side. “Steven, can’t we talk about what’s happening?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Please.”

  She touched his shoulder. He jerked away as if scalded, then sat up on his side of the bed.

  “I’ve got to get ready to go,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “It’s Thursday. I don’t want to be late for men’s group.”

  She felt desperate. She needed to make him talk to her, look at her. “What is it that bothers you the most, Steven?” She sat up, too. “That I made a foolish mistake when I was sixteen? That I wasn’t a virgin when you married me? That I gave up a baby for adoption? That I kept her a secret? What?”

  He stood. “Let it be.” He headed for the bathroom.

  “Steven, I’m your wife. I love you.” She got out of bed. “Talk to me.”

  He turned around, looking at her in the gray light of their room. “I’m not ready to talk. You
had all these years to think about your little secret, but I’ve only had eleven days. I’m doing the best I can. So let it be. Okay? Just let it be.”

  She raised a beseeching hand. “I never meant to hurt you. I… I didn’t tell you because… because telling you would have damaged your friendship with Dallas. I loved you too much to do that.” She took a deep breath. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose you once you came back into my life. After we were married, it didn’t seem important. It seemed like it happened to someone else. We were different. We were both different. And… and after I became a Christian, I asked God to forgive me.” She choked back a sob. “And He did.”

  He glared at her a moment longer, then without a word, went into the bathroom and firmly closed the door.

  “God forgave me, Steven,” she whispered. “Why can’t you?”

  Blinded by her tears, Erika slipped into her robe, then picked up her Bible and journal and left the bedroom. She didn’t stop in the kitchen to make coffee.

  Instead, she went out onto the patio. She needed to feel the bracing coolness of morning on her cheeks.

  Sinking onto a chair, she prayed, God, what more can I do?

  Above the tops of the trees, a smattering of clouds in the east were stained orange and red. Birds welcomed the coming of day with chirps and whistles. In her normal world, Erika would have joined them in their songs of praise to the Creator.

  But she no longer had a normal world.

  November 1984

  A bouquet of mixed flowers, purchased at the grocery store, blossomed in a vase in the center of the small round table. Two places had been set—white plates with blue trim that had been a wedding gift; silverware that had come free with the purchase of a slow cooker; some crystal stemware purchased last summer at a secondhand store; and some blue linen napkins, held snugly within white porcelain rings that had belonged to Erika’s mother. Vince Gill crooned softly on the living-room stereo while the scent of baking bread wafted through the apartment.

  Perfect, Erika thought.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall, and her heart skittered. Steven would be home any minute.

  She dashed into the bathroom to check her hair and makeup. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she smiled. Looking back at her was the happiest person in the world.

  Today was their ten-month anniversary. Today was also the day she would share her secret with Steven.

  She’d never expected on their wedding day that marriage could be this wonderful. Oh, she’d loved Steven. Loved him desperately. She’d known from the very start that she was lucky to have him love her in return. Steven was the most wonderful, kindest, most tender, gentlest man she’d ever known. But she hadn’t known marriage could be this good.

  Soon it would be even better.

  She touched her belly, flat and trim. In a few more months there’d be no disguising the baby that was growing inside her.

  Steven’s baby.

  They would make such a perfect home for this child. He—or she—would be loved and cherished. He would never have to yearn for a father’s or mother’s approval the way Erika had. He would have a whole family with lots and lots of brothers and sisters. No lonely, only children for this family. Steven and Erika wanted a basketball team, at the very least.

  A shudder passed through Erika, a memory, unbidden, intruding on her happiness.

  I wish I knew her name.

  As quickly as it came, Erika pushed the thought away. She’d learned several tricks for controlling those unwanted memories. She’d had to. Otherwise, every time Dallas came to their apartment with the latest in his long string of girlfriends, she would have gone crazy, the reminders too painful, the shame too deep. So she’d learned the art of denial, pretending “it” had never happened.

  Today of all days was not the time to remember. Today was the happiest of days. Today she would tell Steven he was going to be a daddy.

  Her life was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  Seventeen

  Kirsten stared at the ceiling of the bedroom of her apartment. Her first morning in Boise. She’d wanted to sleep in, and here she was, awake at the crack of dawn. What was she going to do now that her journey cross-country was over? Her belongings wouldn’t arrive until next week, and she wasn’t scheduled to report to work until Monday.

  She sat up, thankful for the inflatable mattress Van had given her. Her funds were running low, and she couldn’t afford another night in a motel. But she wouldn’t have enjoyed sleeping on the floor, either.

  So, now what?

  She’d called her mother last night to let her know she’d arrived safely. She’d also called Van. There was no one else to call.

  Except Erika Welby.

  She pushed her long, dark hair away from her face, then rose from the bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom. A glance in the mirror caused her to wince.

  Her brown eyes always had a just-woke-up look about them, but her reflection belonged to someone who was more than sleepy. Dark smudges formed half-moons beneath her eyes, and there was an unhealthy pallor in her cheeks. Her curly hair—never easy to control under the best of circumstances—looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush in a month.

  “Great,” she muttered. “Just great.”

  Without a curtain, Kirsten couldn’t use the shower, and she hated washing her hair in the tub. It took forever to get the shampoo rinsed out. But with no other option, she turned on the water, pressed the stopper, and waited for the bathtub to fill.

  Forty-five minutes later, her skin clean, her hair blown dry, and wearing a mostly wrinkle-free tank top and a pair of shorts, she felt—and looked—much better. She was also ravenous, and no matter how big her credit-card balance, she intended to have a real breakfast. No Twinkies and OJ for her this morning.

  She grabbed the city map, her wallet, and car keys and headed out of her apartment. Time to get to know Boise. Her first stop would be the nearest breakfast-serving restaurant, preferably one with biscuits and country gravy on the menu.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to come with us, Mom? We’re only playing nine holes.”

  Erika glanced from Ethan, standing on the passenger side of his dad’s car, to her husband, already behind the wheel. A chill shivered through her. Steven would resent it if she went along—being with her was the last thing he wanted.

  “No thanks. You guys go do your thing.” She waved bravely. “Have fun and don’t go over par.”

  At least Steven made the effort to wave in return before starting the car and backing out of the drive.

  O God, we’re falling apart at the seams.

  She blinked away unwanted tears, irritated by their appearance. She already felt as if she’d cried enough to fill Lucky Peak Reservoir.

  Steven says he’s doing the best he can.

  She moved off the front steps and strolled along the flower beds, occasionally reaching down to pull weeds.

  But it doesn’t feel like his best. It feels like he hates me. He doesn’t want to touch me. I feel like we’re living in a house made of crystal, as if everything could shatter in an instant.

  Purple-and-yellow pansies bobbed their heads in the morning breeze, smiling at her.

  They’re the only things smiling in this place.

  Motley bumped against her leg, then pressed his muzzle against her palm.

  “Dumb dog,” she whispered as she stroked his head.

  I’m like Motley, she realized, begging Steven to look at me, to touch me… to love me.

  Her vision blurred a second time, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling.

  “Hi, Mrs. Welby.”

  Erika turned to see Susie Fulton, the seven-year-old from next door, skipping across the lawn.

  “Can I play with Motley?”

  “Sure.”

  Susie leaned forward and patted her thighs. “C’mere, Motley. C’mere, boy.”

  The dog almost mowed the child down in his ea
gerness to obey, hopping around as if his legs were made of springs. Susie giggled, delighted by Motley’s show of affection.

  Erika smiled, but it was bittersweet.

  I want to be free and innocent like Susie. I don’t want to feel like my world is collapsing. God, how do we make it back? How can the truth set us free if it destroys us first?

  “Where’s your ball, Motley?” Susie asked in her high-pitched voice. “Find your ball.”

  The dog understood the word and bounded off to find any one of a half dozen toys that littered the Welby yard. It wasn’t long before he returned, a cracked and fading blue rubber ball in his slobbery mouth.

  “Good boy.” Susie rewarded Motley with a kiss on the top of the head, then several affectionate pats on his shoulder. “Good boy.” She took the ball and tossed it toward the fence. “Get it, Motley. Get it.”

  The command was needless. Motley was already flying after it, tongue flapping out the right side of his mouth.

  Will Steven ever forgive me, Lord? Erika knelt on the lawn to pull more weeds. I need him to forgive me.

  She remembered the moment she’d first been set free from her secret guilt. She remembered kneeling at her bedside, giving her heart to Christ, awash in the love of God, overwhelmed by it, and knowing He forgave her for all the sins of her past. All of them. Including those times with Dallas. Including giving her baby away, then trying to forget her, as if she’d never existed.

  Was I so wrong not to tell Steven? What purpose could it have served?

  She found no answers in her heart.

  “Motley!” Susie’s cry, combined with the squeal of sliding tires, brought Erika to her feet. Before Erika’s eyes could find the cause for alarm, Susie screamed.

  Thud!

  Motley lay in the street in front of a pale blue Toyota. The driver, a young woman, was already out of the vehicle, staring, horrified, gripping the car door with her right hand.