Chapter 12

Press


We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed. -2 Corinthians 4:8


Running and regret. That's all Edison had now. He ran with a deliberateness, a focused determination, as if he wanted to push himself to the limit. He ignored any protests his body made from the overexertion, the stressing of his damaged heart. He didn't care about the physical pain. Feeling, that would come later, but not now. All he really felt now was regret. It was bitter and accompanied by hopelessness. Streams of sweat meandered lazily down either side of his face. He slapped them away and continued along the tree-lined path zipping around kids skipping to the bus stop or people walking their dogs. The phone tethered to his hip began its incessant vibration. He ignored it just as he'd done the last two times it alerted him to a call. It was Olivia calling to check on him before she left for work. He'd left the house early this morning for a run without leaving a note. If she had slept in their bed, she would have known he was gone, jostled by him untangling his limbs from hers. But no, there was none of that. She'd finally moved into one of the guest rooms almost a month ago. He hadn't been able to convince her to stay much longer than two weeks after his heath scare. She was more a live-in caregiver than a wife, bound by duty but not love for him. He didn't want to hear her voice right now. All he wanted to do was run.

He was going to lose her. If he were true with himself, he had already lost her to that man. One night he had heard their conversation on the phone, their sappy lover's spat. Hearing the one sided conversation had hurt and angered him.

This is extremely difficult for me, Fitz. I haven't been ignoring you. It's…I…no let me explain honey…no just listen. I love you, too. I want you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you so you can't imagine how difficult it is not being able to act upon…to touch you…to feel your touch…okay, you can imagine it…I know you feel the same way. How can you say that? I'm not good at pretending at church? We can't be alone like that at church…But Fitz…Fitz I hate sleeping beside him…what about Mellie…I love you…honey…I…we'll get through this…patience…It's hard…I love you…

When he couldn't take hearing another word, he'd eased back into his room and downed three of the large white pills his doctor had prescribed for pain. The drugs had lulled him into a dreamless, empty sleep.

Infidelity. He was not innocent of it, had slipped up half a dozen times during their marriage. In each case, it had been just about the sex, the release, something to take the edge off of the stress of flying. When a trip wound him too tight, giving in to the the temptation here or there got him through. He wasn't indulgent as some of the other pilots. It was something about the uniform that drew women of all varieties to him. In most cases, he ignored their sexual advances. He loved Olivia and the life they had together. He thought she did too until she began to change. She stopped giving him grief about his flight schedule. The calls during his trips away were one sided, all from his direction. She seemed distracted a lot, caught in some other place. By the time, that bastard's wife paid him a visit and revealed the affair, he had already known. It had been a shock to find out it was Grant. He had thought she didn't like him. Involving her parents had been a mistake. He knew that now. They could no longer coerce their daughter to do anything.

There had to be some way to turn this around, some way to get his wife and his life back. How long could they last before someone at the church found out? Would a scandal cause them to break up or would it bring them closer? Fitzgerald Grant wouldn't give up his power, position, and family for an affair, would he? From what he knew of Grant's wife, she wouldn't let him. Could he win Olivia back by being there for her when all this blew up?

He slowed his pace some. Could that be it? Patience? Could he claim her back by outlasting this affair? At a slow jog, he felt a little hope creep into his psyche. Along with the hope, came pain. He grabbed his chest and took in shallow breaths to cool down. When the pain was a dull ache, he stopped and leaned against a tree. He pulled his cell phone from his belt. Olivia had called three times. He sent her a text because he didn't want her to hear his labored breathing. He wasn't even sure he could talk right now. He texted her instead:

Good morning sweetheart. Went for a run. Will call you later. I love you.

Edison slid to the ground feeling the gnarled tree bark scratching his back. He hung his head between his legs waiting for his heartbeat to stabilize. He was at once in physical pain but hopeful about getting his wife back.


"Do you trust him, O?" said Felecia.

"You know? I do. I do. My gut tells me Linwood really loves Shawn and Lincoln. He visits frequently enough, but I'm afraid for them," said Olivia. She moved the receiver from one ear to the other. Glancing at her clock, she was alarmed at how long she'd bee on the phone. Forty-five minutes had gone by. She had a staff meeting at the top of the hour and neither of them had brought up the quagmire that was her personal life. Olivia couldn't understand why they were both dodging it. She suspected Felecia didn't want to seem pushy or intrusive, rather she wanted Olivia to broach the subject if she wanted to talk about it.

"What about Shawn? Has she warmed up to him or is she still giving him the cold shoulder?"

Olivia smiled at the characterization. It was obvious to anyone watching. Shawn had deep feelings for Linwood, but she put forth a tremendous amount of effort to cover it up. Olivia understood why, but it bordered on the ridiculous sometimes. When he was around, she became very formal with him. Olivia would catch her sneaking a peek at him when she thought he was preoccupied with Lincoln. Olivia understood because she sometimes she tried to do the same thing with Fitz.

"Not really. She's a little better with him. Who can blame her for being cautious, though? She thought he was responsible for having her and their unborn baby killed. He's told us he thinks he knows who did it, but he won't tell us yet. I think he may have told Shawn. He also hasn't told his family about Lincoln or Shawn. Huck checked it out for me and he believes Linwood's uncle hired someone to rough her up so that she lost the baby. Something went wrong. She fought too much and the hit man thought he killed her and…well you know the rest. When I think about what could have happened…"

"O, don't think about that. I know I've probably taken too much of your time already. You're at work. John John and I have a date with Gymboree soon." said Felecia.

Olivia held the phone, not responding. Always adept at reading Olivia's silences, Felecia took that as her cue to ask her about the quagmire.

"So, how are things with you?" said Felecia.

She exhaled and stood, walking to lock her office door. She couldn't risk anyone walking in during this conversation. "Things are…complicated, as complicated as ever. Edison left the house this morning without as much as a note. I called him several times and he wouldn't answer. Then he texted me back that he'd gone for a run, not a walk, but a run. I was shocked since he's been so needy this last month especially since I moved into the guest room. I don't want to abandon him, Felecia, but I don't want to give him hope that we'll be together. I can tell he's angry with me even though he tries to hide it. I want to start divorce proceedings and get a place for Shawn, Lincoln, and me."

Felecia let out a dry chuckle.

"What's funny about that?" she said.

"Dear, dear, friend. You are leaving out a big piece and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know…I just hate boring you with my problems every time we talk, Felecia."

"This is the opposite of boring, honey, but…I'm here for you. You cannot not mention Fitz, O."

"I know. We're trying to find a balance so we can do our jobs. He hasn't given Mellie an answer or rather I've convinced him not to answer her right now because he will divorce her—"

"Are you sure he will divorce her Olivia or is he trying to get you to think he will to keep you on the hook for the supposed 5 year wait?" said Felecia.

Olivia knew her friend was playing devil's advocate. "I'm sure even if men rarely leave their wives for their mistresses. But I'm not a mistress. We haven't been intimate really for a couple of weeks," Olivia admitted.

"Intimate really…what does that mean?" she said.

"We push each other's buttons, I think. I feel like we're in high school sometimes…the immaturity…the intense emotions. I'm trying to be adult about things. I do have to work with him so to get through it I might ignore him which sends him into a tailspin. We argue. We make up and sometimes it gets intense and we are kissing and it gets difficult to stop. But last week we made a vow to keep it all platonic," said Olivia. She knew Marjorie would be knocking on her door any minute now, a reminder about the meeting.

"Platonic? You and Fitz? I'm not saying it's impossible Olivia, but not in this lifetime. But that's just my opinion. I could be proven wrong—O, John John is up from his nap. I have to go. Time to get ready for Gymboree. Listen call me tonight if you get time. We can finish this discussion, okay?" she said.

Olivia agreed, said her goodbyes and then hung up. She already knew she wouldn't be calling Felecia tonight. It stung to hear Felecia's matter of fact assessment. Deep down she knew it was true. She frowned while she gathered her materials for the staff meeting.


Fitz marked off the next item on his agenda before readying himself to address Olivia across the room. There was nothing remarkable about her appearance this morning. She wore a white silk blouse, a simple grey pencil skirt, and black pumps. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Appearance didn't matter. It was her, all of her that he wanted. It mattered not what her appearance was from day to day.

When she'd entered the conference room and their eyes met, he'd lost his train of thought. He had coughed twice and taken a sip of water before continuing his conversation with Bill Blake. When he called the meeting to order, he tried not to stare, choosing instead to sneak surreptitious glances her way when she wasn't looking.

This duck and dodge was not sustainable, he knew. It was all they had for now. He promised himself he wouldn't put demands on her. They were doing the best they could to operate under the circumstances. No more tantrums. He couldn't lose it like he'd done a couple of weeks ago. She had been avoiding him and not returning his phone calls. After stewing for a couple of days, he'd called her home phone daring Edison to answer. Hearing her voice, so close to him, yet so far, had uncoiled his resolve to be calm and measured in his questioning. He'd pounced on her immediately, giving her the full brunt of his anger. She'd done all she could to assure him, but he'd hung up on her. Within an hour, he received a text message from her to meet him at the parsonage. He had torn out of the house haphazardly, wound tight, half breathing as if he would perish without her. It was not until they were spent from their clutching, consuming union that he took stock of what he'd done. He'd reduced her to an obsession, their union an addiction of which he'd needed a fix.

He took a deep breath and let his eyes rest on her across the conference table. "Now, we'll have Rev. Pope reporting on the capital campaign," he said.

She flashed a brief smile to know one in particular. "We're at about 80 percent of our pledged contributions. Only about a handful of members have requested an adjustment to their due date because of financial hardships. But we are on schedule," she said.

Rev. Guerra leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands to the heavens. "Rev. Pope, this is blessed news. Thank God for you. He has surely blessed you with this talent of fundraising that will benefit so many of our homeless, battered, and downtrodden brothers and sisters in this community. Next year this time we'll be breaking ground on the Grace Outreach and Advocacy Center," said Rev. Guerra with his characteristic zeal.

His delight spread around the room eliciting smiles and other words of agreement from everyone around the table until they were all clapping. Fitz joined in happy to have something to celebrate. The burden he carried had become all consuming. He enjoyed seeing Olivia smile. Had they both lost sight of their work? Were they going through the motions of their lives, grasping for each other, losing sight of their calling?

He was heavy with these thoughts as the meeting got back on track.


Shawn couldn't believe what Linwood had just said. She swallowed and then frowned at him as if she didn't understand.

She had been looking forward to his visit all week. Each time he came to visit, she felt her heart softening to him. Despite her attempts at formality bordering on coldness, he kept showing up always bearing gifts for Lincoln and money for her. The need for resolution about who had tried to kill her was still between them, but Shawn pushed it aside for as long as she could. She felt safe in Liv's house. Edison was a lot less grumpy so sharing the house with him was somewhat better most of the time. It was uncomfortable being around he and Liv, though. He looked at her with sad eyes. Shawn knew that had a lot to do with Fitz, but she was happy he was just a phone call away. She wasn't stupid.

This ignoring couldn't last forever, but forever was a long time away. Apparently, Linwood didn't agree.

"That wasn't the reaction I expected, Shawn," said Linwood as he looked up at her from where he was perched on his knee.

Shawn's frowned deepened. She would have screamed at him if Lincoln wasn't asleep in his crib. "Get up, Linwood," she bit out through clinched teeth, refusing to look at the ring he held in his hand.

Now Linwood frowned. "Will you marry, me, Shawn? I love you. We have Lincoln…" he said.

"How dare you?" she said, turning away from him, "How dare you ask me that?" She didn't want him to see her tears so she started for the door to leave the bedroom. Unfortunately, he beat her to the door.

"Shawn, baby, why are you crying? What's wrong?" he pleaded, grabbing her hand and cupping her cheek.

She wept, at first, refusing to look at him. "Please, Shawn…talk to me…baby please…"

Pulling her hand from his she swiped her tears away. "We were…everything was okay…why did you have to ask me that?"

"Yes, baby everything is going well. I love you. I want us to be together forever. I am Lincoln's father. I want to be your husband—"

"Please stop, Linwood, stop…someone…you say your uncle tried to k-kill me and my baby to stop me and you from being together. But even before that it wasn't going to work. We are too different. You need to be with someone who has a perfect little family. Someone who has it all together. You need to go back to college. You can see Lincoln. I won't keep him…I won't keep…him seeing you…"

As she spoke, she was surprised to see pain in Linwood's face, a pain almost mirroring hers. And then she saw his fill with tears before he pulled her close and kissed her.


Olivia dialed his number. She couldn't stop herself. To hear his voice was the primary reason. Sometimes she got the urge to…well she got many urges when it came to Fitz, but sometimes she needed to hear his voice.

"Hello?"

She didn't answer not to be covert because she knew he knew it was her. She wanted him to say it again, but this time accompanied by her name.

"Hello, Livy."

She was stopped at a light that had just turned green. The car behind her honked and she eased on the gas, moving forward.

"Livy…"

Olivia inhaled sharply and disconnected the line. She hated when she was in these moods. Right now she wanted to confess everything to the world, whether sin or not: "I'm in love with a married man. I want to divorce my husband. I want Fitz! I don't want to quit my job. and on and on and on…

She answered the ring she knew was coming. She knew he would call her back. "Hello, Fitz," she said, smiling.

"You hung up on me…why may I ask?" he said.

"I could lie and say we were disconnected, but I'm in a truth-telling mood so…yes, I called you and then hung up when I got what I wanted," she said.

When he didn't respond immediately, she knew he was doing all manner of mental calculations trying to figure out her peculiar behavior.

"Should I assume you wanted to hear my voice or perhaps you wanted to frustrate me," he said, cajolingly.

She smiled at his tone. "I wanted to hear you say my name, Fitz. I know what we agreed, but I miss you. My better, more mature, godly self couldn't prevent me from calling you...so I did. I got what I wanted so…"

He sighed heavily. Now she knew she was frustrating him, but she didn't care. "If you wanted to hear my voice, you could have listened to one of my sermons on the Grace podcast."

"I didn't want to hear your voice in recording. I wanted to hear it…hear you saying my name. Us. I wanted a little piece of us. We've been doing a good job of staying out of each other's way since…since the parsonage. I'm not trying to sabotage that. Today Rev. Guerra go so happy about the capital campaign and I realized how much I'd lost sight of the good work we're doing. It's all I can do to stay away from you while…while…I don't know what the while is really, but today I was proud of what we're doing at Grace and not just the capital campaign—"

"I love you, Livy. You don't have to explain why you called. I don't know what the while is either. I do know that I won't…I can't take Mellie's ultimatum. I cannot do this for five years. I can't be without you that long. I understand that you need to be there for Edison right now," he said.

"I love you, Fitz."

"I wish you wouldn't sound so sad when you said that to me," he said.

"I'm sad because I'm weak," she said.

"Weak? Livy, your aren't—"

"I want to see you, Fitz."

"I want to see you, Livy."

They held the phone for a couple of minutes of shared silence until Olivia broke it.

"Well, we can be thankful that it's a weekday. I'll see you tomorrow at work, Fitz."

"And I'll see you, Olivia."


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