Broken Together Read online

  Copyright © 2017 by K.L. Gilchrist.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version, copyright © 2011 by Biblica.

  Broken Together: A Novel is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  ISBN 978-1-54390-235-8 (print)

  ISBN: 978-1-54390-236-5 (ebook)

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

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  21

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  40

  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

  Romans 8:28 (NIV)

  For Chris.

  1

  A brick.

  A colossal, crimson brick traveling at supersonic speed and positioned right for Tracey Jones’s head.

  No warning. No time to duck. The brick came at her as her husband, Brian. Same shape and size and everything. With news that did not make her want to drop to her knees and pray for him.

  Oh no. This news made her want to smack him.

  Hard.

  But she didn’t do that. Nah. That wouldn’t have been right.

  She sat and listened to him. Why? Because it was almost half past ten when he opened the back door and trudged into the kitchen. Tracey had just cleared out space in the refrigerator so Brian could put the leftovers away after he ate dinner, but she stopped and stood up when the door opened. She looked over to him and flashed a big grin. That smile vanished from her face as soon as she noticed he did not look over to her. At all.

  “Hey!” She hoped her upbeat voice would prod him to greet her with a kiss.

  “Hey.”

  Tracey followed Brian’s eyes. They focused on the floor, then the wall, but never on her. His lips mashed together as he pulled off his weather-beaten leather brown jacket. Snow sprinkles slid off the shoulders and tumbled onto the cream-colored tile floor. He hung his coat up quickly on the hook by the kitchen door before walking over and sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island.

  “Want something to drink?” Tracey asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Not hungry right now.”

  Tracey raised an eyebrow. She closed the refrigerator door and walked over to him, watching as he leaned his weight on his forearms, still directing his eyes away from her face. No hello kiss. Still no eye contact. She slid onto the stool across from him and balled her fists in her lap.

  “How are you tonight?” He asked.

  “I’m fine. What’s going on?” Tracey shifted her body weight on the stool.

  Brian cleared his throat and stared down at the granite countertop. “I need talk to you. About the practice. And, ah, about one of our nurses. Lisette Santana.”

  “What about her?” Tracey said, crossing her arms.

  “Well, I’ve gotten to know her since she came on board. We’ve become friends. We. She and I. We talk a lot during the day. She’s a smart young lady. Interested in medicine.”

  Tracey raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  He cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, this afternoon, Ruthie and Lisette had a fight. A loud one. I’m sure patients heard them. Very unprofessional. Anyway, Ruthie accused Lisette of having an inappropriate relationship with me and Dan had to come out of an exam room to quiet them and —”

  Tracey had stopped listening right after she processed the words “inappropriate relationship.” She didn’t give a rip about a cat fight at the practice. Inappropriate relationship? Did Brian really zip past those words? She watched his lips move for a few more seconds, then interrupted him. “Was she right?”

  “Huh?”

  “Was Ruthie right? You. Lisette. Inappropriate relationship?”

  Brian shook his head. “No way!” He rubbed his hands together. Moved his index finger back and forth over the thick diamond and gold band on his ring finger. “Ruthie was the inappropriate one. It’s a good thing she’s been with us since the beginning and she’s an outstanding nurse. Dan talked with her and she apologized to Lisette for the incident.”

  “Then why did you wait until you came home to tell me?” Tracey asked.

  Brian’s face went blank.

  She pressed him. “And what about Lisette? What are you two talking about every day if someone as reliable as Ruthie needed to accuse Lisette?”

  He shrugged. “Listen, I talk to folks all day long. My partners. Pharmaceutical reps. Our patients. The nurses. All of them. Ruthie, Lisette, Janette, Donna. I talk to everyone.”

  “Let me put it a different way. Does this lady have feelings for you?”

  Brian rubbed a hand over his chin and sighed. “She knows I’m a happily married man.”

  A chill ran down Tracey’s back. The word “happily” seemed to tumble out of his mouth by accident. “Happily?” Her brow furrowed.

  “Of course.” His tone softened. “You and me. The kids. Our life is great. God blessed us and I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything. You know I’m not that guy.”

  The words sounded hollow as they penetrated Tracey’s ears. Not that guy? Well. He wasn’t. Tracey knew who she married. She didn’t marry a cheater. Brian was a good man. Still. This bit of news bugged her. She chewed her bottom lip and tried to think of something to say to communicate her frustration. But when she opened her mouth to ask another question, Brian leaned in and gave her a kiss. The touch of his soft lips provided comfort. She sank into the warmth. And it eased the tension. A little.

  He broke the kiss and stared in her eyes, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. “I shared it with you because the whole scene irritated me.”

  Tracey pushed his fingers away from her face. “Gee, thanks for sharing.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “I’m gonna grab dinner now. Hang out here with me?”

  “You said you weren’t hungry.”

  He shrugged and offered a half-smile. “I smell rosemary chicken, and I know you made roasted red potatoes to go with it. That’s too good to pass up.”

  Tracey’s eyes trailed him as he stood up, shuffled over to the stove and filled his plate with food. She studied him as if he were a stranger, trying to see what someone else would observe if getting acquainted with him for the first time. She ran down the checklist. Colgate commercial straight white teeth. Handsome face. Terrific eyes. Not a wrinkle anywhere. Fit and trim. Chest and arm muscles you could see move beneath his shirt. Friendly demeanor. Good career. Intelligent.

  Yep. Enough checks on the list for a nurse to be interested, even if he was older and married.

&
nbsp; Brian’s phone buzzed in his leather jacket. A muted sound. Tracey heard it from where she sat, which was close to the hook where he had hung his jacket moments earlier. She glanced over at him eating, then shifted her gaze back his jacket.

  “What’s the matter?” He asked.

  She jerked a thumb toward his jacket. “Your phone.”

  He motioned to her. “Pass it to me.”

  Tracey stood up, dug into Brian’s jacket pocket, pulled out the device, walked over and pushed it at him. He took one second to glance at it, then shoved it in his pants pocket and went back to chewing his chicken.

  She stepped back, curious. “Not going to answer it?”

  He shook his head and swallowed. “It’s one of the guys. I can call him back.”

  “What guy?”

  “Huh?”

  “What. Guy. From. Where?”

  “Men’s Fellowship. He joined us the last few weeks. We’ve had a few conversations, and he said he’s interested in starting a fitness program. I said I would give him some pointers.”

  “So he’s a member of Rise?”

  “No. City Church.”

  “This guy have a name?”

  Brian let his fork clatter to his plate, wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and rose from his stool. “I know where you’re going with this.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer to him. “All right. Let’s go there. Who just called?”

  Tracey watched her husband turn and pick up his dinner plate. In a swift movement he ate the remains of his food, then brushed past her and placed his plate and cutlery in the sink. Silent, he reached in his pocket, pulled out his phone and passed it to her.

  She snatched it and pressed the icon that led to the archive of recent calls. “Who’s Troy?”

  “Young guy. Wants to start a fitness program. We talked about nutrition and supplements and—”

  “I get it.”

  “That all you have to say?”

  She pushed the phone back at him. “What do you want me to say?”

  “An apology would be nice.”

  “Apology?”

  “Yes.”

  Apologize? Please! Or, no. Wait. Maybe she should apologize for not believing that stupid story about nurse Ruthie talking crazy for no reason. Apologize? No way. Tracey shifted her weight from foot to foot. “You know what? I’m tired and I don’t know what to say.”

  Brian reached out and snaked his arms around Tracey’s waist. Her arms lay stiff at her sides. After a few seconds of an awkward hug, she wriggled out of his grasp.

  “Don’t pull away from me,” he said.

  She pushed back further. “You told me what you told me which is not cool and right about now I need you to get out of my face. For real.”

  He stepped away, glanced down at her and opened his lips, but no sound came out. A moment passed before he turned to the sink. He washed and rinsed his plate and cutlery and put them in the dish rack before stalking out of the kitchen.

  Tracey made a beeline for the family room. She plopped down in the leather recliner and grabbed her worn Bible off the wooden side table. She read Psalm 91 twice and Psalm 121 three times, and then sat still for fifteen minutes. Quiet. Anger subsiding. When she calmed down enough to stop bouncing her knees up and down, she prayed.

  Lord, I’m not sure what to make of the story my husband told me tonight. It doesn’t seem right. Please open my eyes to the truth about this matter. You are my strength and my refuge, and I thank you, Lord. Amen.

  She’d put the situation in God’s hands. Nothing else to do but go to bed.

  As soon as she stepped in the bedroom, Tracey heard water running in their bathroom. Brian taking his nightly shower. She yawned, pulled off her robe and let it drop to the floor, crawled into her side of the bed, and stretched out. One second away from relaxation, her ears perked up. Brian’s phone buzzed again. She popped open one eye. The buzzing stopped. The phone lay on his nightstand. She rolled over, snatched it, and read the caller ID. Troy. Why would he call again? Tracey switched over to look at Brian’s list of text messages. Empty. She looked at his voice mail list. Also empty. Should she call this person back? Her fingers itched to press for call back, but her brain shouted, leave it alone. She held the device another minute before following her brain. She put the phone back on the nightstand and settled back under the sheets. But now relaxation escaped her. She’d never, ever snooped on Brian’s calls. Never had a need to. Until now.

  Tracey forced her eyes shut. Go to sleep. Forget about it and go to sleep.

  Five minutes passed, and Tracey couldn’t drift off. “Brian,” she called out.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” He called back. “You going to sleep now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good night.”

  That was his way of telling her he didn’t want to talk anymore. So whatever he thought or prayed about in the shower, he wasn’t about to share any of it.

  The sound of rushing water kept going. She guessed he’d hang out with the soap and the bath puffs until he figured she’d drifted off to sleep. Fine. She rolled over on her belly. He could stay in there until he shriveled up.

  Two minutes later Brian came out of the bathroom smelling like ocean breeze shower gel and shea butter lotion. He didn’t utter a word as he slid into bed, clicked the light off, and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. Tracey turned again so her back touched his. His skin felt moist and warm.

  All right. No sticking her head in the sand.

  Tomorrow. First thing in the morning.

  Find out what Ruthie knows.

  2

  A clever fake.

  That’s what Tracey was when she met Brian nine years ago. On the outside she wore three Fs like a costume: fine, friendly, and focused. Inside? Lonely, broke, and sad. Every Sunday she gripped her six-year-old son Tyler’s hand tight as they walked into Rise Church. No one there had ever seen Tyler’s father, but they sure knew Tracey and they knew she looked good. She kept a tight rein on their budget so she could shop the consignment stores, putting quality clothes on their backs and trendy shoes on their feet. And every Sunday there she was in the church pew. Perfect hair. Flawless makeup. A smile plastered across her face as she sang each worship song played.

  Most people assumed she had it together. But she was flustered and had tears in her eyes the day Tyler pulled on her skirt and whined for her to buy him a candy bar from the vending machine after church service. She’d stood staring at the pens and lint at the bottom of her purse when a muscular guy with a lopsided smile and warm brown eyes walked right past her, dropped coins in the machine, bought a granola bar and handed it right to Tyler, telling him candy would rot his teeth and winking at Tracey. She said thank you. When she saw the man the following Sunday, he introduced himself and asked for her phone number. They talked that week. He asked for a date. Then another. A few months later he asked her to be his wife. She said yes.

  Now Tracey wasn’t broke or insecure, and hadn’t faked happiness for years.

  And she’d battle hell before she took a trip back to Club Loneliness.

  Believe that.

  When the alarm sounded at 5:45 a.m., Tracey swung her legs off the bed and squinted in the darkness for her fluffy red house shoes. She stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing her eyes. She gripped the edges of the bathroom sink as she peered at herself in the mirror. The rough night she’d spent tossing and turning showed on her face. Now why hadn’t she called that Troy person back? Afraid of what she might’ve heard?

  Tracey washed her face and brushed her teeth before looking in the mirror again. Wake up, Tracey. You better wake up right now.

  She shuffled back into the bedroom. Brian had rolled over in bed, facing the opposite wall. She stared at his naked back. He used to start each day with prayer, but it had been a few weeks since she’d seen him kneeling by the foot of the bed. He didn’t join her for devotions and coffee in the morning anymore eith
er. These days he stayed in the bed until she came to get him. Tracey didn’t know when he had his private time with the Lord. Maybe he took a break and read and prayed during his day? She sighed as she touched his shoulder. His skin felt warm and smooth.

  “Time to wake up,” she said.

  “I’m awake.” He yawned and placed a hand over hers. “We good?”

  Tracey pulled her hand back. She didn’t answer.

  Brian showered, threw on a blue pinstripe button-down shirt and khaki pants, and by seven-thirty he was on his way to work. Neither of them brought up the previous night’s discussion.

  By eight Tracey herded Tyler and Brianna out the door to drive them to school. She kept a tight grasp on Brianna as they headed to the driveway. Above their heads icicles hung from the roof threatening to crash to the ground at any moment. Tyler had shoveled and salted the driveway earlier, but below Tracey’s feet were large cracks with tiny pieces of asphalt chipped off, peppering the snowdrifts on the sides. She noticed the chips spreading, making their home exterior look more and more imperfect.

  Back in the house with everyone else gone, Tracey itched to talk with Ruthie. But running over to the practice while Brian handled patients, playing the role of the jealous wife? Acting crazy in front of his partners? Not cool. She’d have to make a phone call.

  She grabbed the portable phone from the side table in the living room then pressed the autodial number for Germantown Family Medical Associates. It rang once. The system picked up.

  Thank you for calling Germantown Family Medical Associates. We take great pride in offering our patients the highest level of efficient and quality care. Your call is very important to us. If this is a hospital calling, please press zero now. If you are calling in reference to a prescription refill, please press one now. If you are calling for an appointment, please press two now. If this is a medical emergency, please hang up and dial 911. All other calls please hold for personal assistance.

  Tracey held. When someone picked up, she recognized the voice of one of the other nurses, Donna, on the line.

  “Yes. Ruth Evers please.” Cool and casual, Tracey. Keep it cool and casual.