Walking on Broken Glass - Christa Allan [96]
Rebecca suggested Carl and I visit a counselor, together and separately. “Here's a card for a Christian counselor. I think she might be about thirty minutes away from where you live, but she's worth the drive. She's someone I’ve recommended to people for years. People in and out of recovery. I really think you’ll like her.”
“Melinda Mendoza. That's a lyrical name. What are the odds of that hook-up? How did you meet her?” I slipped the card in my purse.
“I met her through my mother. Known her for years,” she laughed. “She's my older sister.”
“It's finally going to happen.” Carl rested his leather briefcase on the kitchen table.
My head popped up from my planner so quickly that I felt my neck muscle burn. I hadn’t expected him home an hour early. I’d been lost in nerd-land setting up my new planner and color-coding entries. Birthdays in red, OB appointments in green, AA meetings in blue (the color of the Big Book), anniversaries in pink. Organization was one of my goals, and one I had control over. Courage to change the things I can control. I’d spent hours at bookstores and office supply stores looking for the right planner. The winner was a red leather-bound binder that I could pick just what I needed to fill it. Now what?
He had the one-finger tie-loosening going on while he looked out the window that overlooked what was now a weed-infested garden bed surrounding a giant pine tree. “It's a mess out there. I think you were right about the koi pond. Let's talk to your dad about working on it when he's in town this coming weekend.”
“You’re messing up my color system here.” I looked at the calendar. “His coming as in three days? Why? What's going to happen?”
He pulled out a chair, sat on the edge, and reached over to hold my hands. “You know how long I’ve been at Morgan Management.”
I nodded.
“And you know the only offer that would pull me away from there.”
I nodded again, this time with less hesitancy.
“I knew about this three weeks ago. But there was Brookforest, then coming home, then the baby. I wanted to make sure it was definite before I told you.”
I’m beyond nodding. “Tellmetellmetellme.”
“My last day at Morgan is a week from Friday. I’m going to own forty-nine percent of Thornton Enterprises, and my first job is to open an office in Pine Knoll.”
He stood. I hopped up and down. “Carl, this is incredible, wonderful, amazing, and every other synonym. This is big. This is BIG news.”
He opened his arms and wrapped them around me. I pressed my hands against his chest, and laid my head between them, and felt the muffled beat of his heart. He rested his head on mine, and I felt warm and right. Safe. The way I used to feel and wanted to feel again. If I could just find a way. To stay sober, and to stay safe.
“It's what I’ve been waiting for ever since I graduated from college.” He loosened his hug, but still held me, his hands clasped behind my back. I leaned against them so I could see his face. “I did what he asked. I went to Morgan to gain the experience he wanted. And now he's making good on his promise.”
“I’m so proud of you. So proud you hung in. I know how important this was for you.”
“And for us.” He placed his hand on my tummy. “For almost the three of us.”
I sent a prayer of gratitude to God for this extraordinary event in Carl's life—for his job and for his tenderness toward this baby.
Carl headed to the bedroom to change out of his suit. I set the table, then opened the refrigerator. For a whiff of time, I wondered where the champagne had hidden itself. Nights like this, for Leah of the past, justified celebration of the bottled variety. I reached for the pitcher of iced tea and wondered if there’d ever be a time I wouldn’t think about drinking.
By the time Carl came back into the kitchen, I had everything ready for him to start the grill.