Free Redemption by Karen Kingsbury

her parents were waiting for her. Her father must have had someone take over his patients for the day. Typical. He had left work early other times, too, for one family crisis or another. It was his way of letting them know they always came first with him.
    Her father stood to meet her. “Kari.” She raised her eyes to his and saw that his face was lined with concern. He held his arms out toward her, and Kari went to him, needing his touch, yet racked with guilt for upsetting her parents. I shouldn’t be here. It’s not their problem.
    Her father’s silent reassurance was so strong that for the first time Kari had a sense she would survive. She allowed herself to be lost in her daddy’s arms, sobbing as if she might never stop. This time, though, the hysteria was gone. In its place was a sadness deeper than a canyon.
    “It’s okay, honey.” Her mother reached up and took Kari’s hand. “You go ahead and cry. We’re here . . . whenever you’re ready to talk.”
    Kari cried for another few minutes and then eased herself down beside her mother as her father took the closest chair. Kari studied the floral pattern on the cushion near her knee and could think of no easy way to begin. It had been two days since she took the call that changed her life, and she hadn’t told anyone yet, hadn’t spoken of Tim’s betrayal out loud. As if by keeping the truth inside, she could convince some part of her that it hadn’t happened.
    Her cheeks grew hot, and she felt deeply embarrassed by what she was about to say. No matter that the crisis was Tim’s fault—she was the one who hadn’t been able to keep him happy. And she was the one who had staked her entire life on the belief that her husband’s faith was strong, his commitment to her deeply sincere.
    She was a failure at the one thing she had prayed might never fail.
    Kari lifted her head and saw her pain reflected in the eyes of her parents. The two of them waited, their faces expectant. “Tim and I talked last night.” She could find no easy way to say it. “He doesn’t want to be married anymore. He . . . he moved out.”
    Her head dropped, and sorrow choked off her words. Instantly her father moved over to join them on the sofa. She felt her parents’ hands on her shoulders and savored the way they made her feel safe and protected. “It’s okay, honey.” Dad’s voice was low, the way it had been whenever he had comforted her as a child. “We’ll get through this.”
    Kari silently prayed for strength, and after a minute she looked up. “He’s in love with another woman.”
    “Oh no, baby.” Her mother’s hand fell from Kari’s shoulder, and she leaned in closer. “How long? I mean, what happened?”
    A sigh slipped from between Kari’s lips. “He’s been seeing her about two months, I think.” Her voice sounded dead, as if she’d reached her limit on feeling hurt and devastated and had let an unfeeling robot carry on in her place. “She’s a student. It’s been going on since the beginning of the semester. Or maybe longer—I don’t know.”
    “Dear God . . .” For a few moments her mother covered her face with her hands.
    In all her life, Kari had never seen her father look so helpless. Her every memory of him was marked by sure smiles and his confident way of handling whatever life threw at them. But those images stood in stark contrast to the man sitting near her now, his face pale, his shoulders slightly stooped as if he’d been blindsided and hadn’t yet recovered.
    “Kari, honey . . .” He made a slight shaking motion with his head, and she noticed that his eyes were glazed over. “I never would have thought . . .”
    The nausea was back, but Kari held it at bay. Get me through this, God, please .
    A verse came to mind, one that had comforted Kari before. It was the shortest verse in the Bible: Jesus wept . If he cried over Jerusalem, if he cried over the death of Lazarus, surely he was crying now over the death of