The Breaking Point (25 page)

Why couldn’t life be more like those stories? Why couldn’t the daytime Gabe be more like the man who comforted her late at night?

Renee rubbed the aching muscles in her shoulders and neck. And why was she sitting here asking herself stupid questions instead of going to bed?

Good thing they hadn’t tried to have another child yet. They’d talked about it, of course, but Gabe said they needed to wait. Though five years had gone by, neither of them had recovered from losing the baby. Besides, they needed to get their feet under them financially.

“Give it a couple more years, Rennie. Then we’ll be ready.”

He was right. Of course he was. She could just imagine what a basket case she’d be if she had little ones right now. True, she only worked part-time, but she was exhausted all the time nonetheless. From the way her friends talked, keeping up with their kids was hard enough on a full night’s sleep. With as little sleep as Renee was getting? It’d be a nightmare.

No, they were definitely better off not having children right now. If only she could stop thinking about it. Longing for it. If only her heart didn’t break every time another woman she knew bounced into the room with her “glad tidings.”

She’d endured it when one after another of her friends started having babies. Despite the pain of her own loss, Renee threw showers for them and went shopping with them. And she
oohed
and
ahhed
over each angelic face when the babies were pressed into her arms, feeling a surge of maternal warmth as those tiny fingers curled around hers.

Renee frowned. When had that changed? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that at some point the warmth had vanished, and she’d been startled to find far different emotions flooding her when she held yet another friend’s newborn.

Longing. Sorrow. Resentment. They all crowded in, and all Renee wanted to do was give the baby back to its glowing mother and head for the hills. Which she’d done.

And she’d stayed there. Each time someone called, asking
her to come over or go do something, she made excuses. It hadn’t taken long for the calls to stop entirely. About the only people she talked to regularly were her parents when she called home.

Home … Renee knew she should think of where she lived with Gabe as her home. But she didn’t. Oregon was still, would always be, her home. At least there when she was sad or upset, she could head to the beach or the mountains. She could walk in the beauty of nature and find some semblance of peace, of restoration.

Illinois didn’t exactly offer the same havens. The state, the city, the weather, even the people often seemed cold. Inhospitable. Renee hated living here. She would have been miserable if she’d been alone.

Thank goodness she had Gabe.

She glanced at her watch. Six minutes had passed this time.

Well, she had him part of the time. She wandered from room to room in the apartment, looking for something to do. There was plenty to keep her busy, but nothing really caught her interest. What fun was it to do things alone?

She paused by the card table where she and Gabe were putting together a puzzle. Who’s
putting it together?
Okay, so she was, but she hadn’t given up on catching Gabe’s interest. Everyone loved puzzles! Her folks had always done them together. Gotten the whole family involved. It was fun.

Gabe, however, didn’t seem all that interested. Renee shoved a puzzle piece in circles with her finger. She’d tried to find something they could enjoy together. But so far all her suggestions had been flops. Far from enjoying their “together” times, Gabe seemed more and more resistant.

“I should have gotten a puzzle of a TV screen. That would have interested him.” That was all he ever wanted to do: sit in his chair and watch TV

Renee had even tried doing that with him, but the shows
he liked to watch were either boring, like
This Old House—
please—or irritating political debates. If she wanted to hear a bunch of two-year-olds argue, she’d go to the playground! But let her even suggest they tune in to something else, and she got The Look. That tense-jawed, narrow-eyed, barely tolerant glare that told her she was being a pest.

“I’m not a pest; I’m his wife.” She directed the low mutter to the puzzle piece. “He should want to do things with me. That’s what being married is all about. Being togeth—”

“Are you still up?”

She jumped, a small scream escaping her. Gabe stared at her, arms a folded barrier, jaw tight.

“Don’t
do
that!” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her tone. Gabe was forever coming up behind her when she was engrossed in something and scaring the wits out of her. “You know you’re supposed to call as you come in.”

His lips thinned. “It’s after midnight. I thought you’d be in bed.”

Her brows arched at his sarcasm. Fine. If he was going to be like that … She matched him tone for tone. “Well, forgive me for waiting up for my husband.”

Gabe turned and walked into the bedroom, which only fueled her ire.

“Don’t you walk away from me!”

He spun, and they nearly collided. He held his hands out in front of him. “Walk away where? There’s no place to go, Renee. You’re everywhere I turn!”

She felt her face go hot, then cold. Her arms came up to form a folded shield between them. “What …what’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head. “How many times do I have to say it? When I come home from work I want to relax. To sit in my chair. Watch a little TV. I don’t want to play tennis, or go for a walk, or ride bikes, or read a book together, or play a board game or cards—” his voice rose as he went down the list, and
he waved his hands at the card table—“or put some stupid puzzle together!”

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She hated it when he yelled. Hated it. “I just want us to spend time together—”

“We’re
together
all the time! We’re married, for cryin’ out loud. How much more together can you get than
that?”

Tears dribbled down her face, and she turned away. But it was too late. Gabe must have seen them.

“Fine! Okay, start crying. So I’m a total jerk because I don’t want to spend every stinkin’ second with my wife.”

His steps were heavy as he went into the kitchen, and Renee followed him. “Gabe, I—”

Clearly he wasn’t in the mood to listen. “Look. It’s simple. I’m your husband, not your shadow. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we have to be in each other’s pockets all the time.”

She followed him as he paced back into the living room, almost bumping into him when he whirled to face her.

“Just do us both a favor, will you, Renee, and get a life! Find some friends. Find someone who likes the kinds of things you do and go do them together.” He yanked the door to the steps open. “And quit acting like I’m some kind of criminal just because I’m tired at the end of the day and don’t feel like coming out to play.”

“Where are you going?” She was amazed the words could get past the knot in her tight throat. As it was, they were barely a whisper.

“I don’t know. Anyplace but here!”

He slammed the door behind him, and his footsteps pounded down the stairs to the outer door. Then that slammed as well.

Renee stood there, staring at the closed door. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

All she could do was feel, and that was the worst nightmare
of all. She felt as though she had turned to old, brittle glass, and she was shattering. Shards of her flew in every direction, ripping her apart with a pain so intense she thought she might pass out.

But she didn’t. Instead she just turned and walked to where her purse lay. She opened it, dug out her wallet, and flipped to the picture section. For a moment, she stared at the picture she carried with her wherever she went—the picture of her and Gabe a few months after they were married. Before they lost the baby.

Before they lost each other.

Her fingers were surprisingly steady as she pulled the picture from its sleeve and carried it to the kitchen. She stepped on the wastebasket lever and the lid popped up. Holding the picture in both hands, Renee ripped it once.

Get a life?

Twice.

Find some friends?

Three times.

Fine. You got it. And guess what, Gabe?

She tore the pieces over and over until they were a shredded pile of little pieces.

You won’t have to be a part of it at all.

Gabe sat on the porch steps outside the apartment, his head in his hands. He was going to be sick. Right there on the lawn.

He tipped his head back, dragging in gulps of cool night air.

What was
wrong
with him? How could he treat Renee like that? Talk to her like that? What had she done that was so terrible?

Love him. Want to be with him. Oh yeah, she should be shot.

He looked at the darkness blanketing the sky, at the tiny specks of white that sparkled down at him, and he wanted to weep. Because he kept seeing, over and over, the look in Renee’s eyes when he yelled at her. Said those things …

Lord,
I blew it.

He was so tired of losing control. So tired of saying things he wanted to take back the second they were out.

Why couldn’t You have made her go to bed?

He was so weary, heart weary. It took so much emotional energy to deal with their differences, with all the fights and miscommunication. They never seemed to get along anymore. The worst was when she tried talking about having another baby. Even the thought of it sent a chill over Gabe.

He wasn’t ready to try again. Didn’t know if he ever would be. With each passing day, each emotionally charged conflict between him and Renee, he felt the resistance grow. How could they bring a child into the world, especially into
their
world? He wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t subject a child to the yelling, the fighting …

But what concerned him most was the anger. In him. Sometimes it took all his strength to keep himself from venting that anger physically. He would never hurt Renee. He’d cut his arm off first. But what if it got out of control?

No. He wasn’t ready for kids.

How
do I tell Renee that, Lord? You know what will happen. We’ll just end up in another fight. I’m so tired of the fights.

He was tired of this, too. Of coming to God, begging for help, asking Him to change things. To change him. Because no matter how much he prayed, nothing seemed to change.

Jesus, why don’t You do something?

But even as he threw his cries to heaven, Gabe knew it wasn’t God’s fault at all. It was his. It always was. And he was more tired of that than anything.

D
ECEMBER
19, 2003

5:30
P.M.

SHE WAS SO TIRED … SHE’D NEVER FELT SO TIRED BEFORE.

And yet, Renee couldn’t rest. Because something wasn’t right. She knew it but couldn’t quite figure it out. Her mind, her body, her every sense told her something was wrong, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make sense of anything.

If only I could get my eyes open …

But she couldn’t. Her lids had grown too heavy to lift, as though they were frozen shut.

A dawning awareness came to her then. She was lying down, but she wasn’t cold. Why wasn’t she cold? She should be. She was still out in the storm, wasn’t she?

“Renee? Come on, hon, open your eyes.”

Gabe’s voice! Her heart pounded and she struggled through
the haze. She reached for him and felt someone take her hand. “It’s okay, Rennie. I’m right here.”

A broken sob slipped through her, and she clutched at his hand. It was him. He was real and solid, not some dream she’d conjured up. Now if she could just open her eyes and
see
him.

With supreme effort, her lids finally fluttered, blinked, and lifted. For a moment all she saw was darkness, and panic shot through her. She was blind!

Then reason caught up with her groggy mind. No, it was nighttime. That’s why it was so dark.

“Hey, there.”

The familiar, tender voice enveloped her, and she turned her head toward it. The sight that met her brought a wide smile to her parched lips.

“You’re awake,” she whispered.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m awake.”

She lifted a hand to touch the bandage she’d put on his forehead, and he caught her fingers.

“And you’re awake, too. Finally. I was getting worried. You’ve been in and out for a couple of hours.”

“I missed you.” Her words were thick with unshed tears, and Gabe pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. He shifted out of her sight, then was back, a cup in his hands.