Free The Desire by Gary Smalley Page B

had hoped to be having this conversation with Allan. He was normally pretty good at hearing her out, helping her sort through conflicting emotions. But he’d come home preoccupied with his new orphanage plan.
    â€œYou’re just hurting inside,” Jean said. “And that’s okay. It’s a painful thing. You’ve wanted to be a mom as long as I’ve known you. And for some reason, for right now God is saying no. We don’t know why. It’s only—”
    â€œDon’t say ‘it’s only been a year.’”
    â€œI wasn’t going to,” Jean said. “I was going to say . . . it’s only a matter of time. Just because God is saying no now, doesn’t mean he’s gonna keep saying no forever.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œIt’s okay.”
    They sat in silence a few moments, sipping coffee, enjoying the breeze.
    â€œI really do like kids,” Michele said.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œEspecially your kids.”
    â€œI know that too. And I also know you like the kids you teach at school.”
    â€œSome of them.”
    â€œAnd the kids at the church.”
    â€œA few of them. Most of them.” She smiled.
    â€œSee, you’re already coming around. Have you talked about all this with Allan?”
    â€œHe just got home.”
    â€œI don’t mean in the last hour or so, I mean recently. Does he know how you’re really doing with this infertility thing?”
    She hated the sound of that . . . her “infertility thing.” But it was a good question. Did Allan know? She thought he knew. But did he really? They’d talked about it before. Several times, in fact.
    â€œWhen was the last time you guys talked about it?” Jean asked.
    â€œA little while ago.”
    â€œLike what, a week before he left? A month ago? Does he know about you driving to the playground to watch the kids play?”
    â€œI haven’t been doing that very long.”
    â€œSo, he doesn’t know.”
    â€œNo, he doesn’t know.”
    â€œHow many times have you done that?”
    â€œJust a few.” Maybe three or four.
    â€œAre you hiding it from him?”
    â€œWhat? What a thing to say. Of course I’m not hiding it from him.”
    â€œThen why haven’t you told him? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this conversation we’re having.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œDon’t you remember? A year ago you were challenging me for not sharing everything with Tom. Remember? When I thought I was pregnant?”
    She did remember. Here she was, doing the very same thing. But why? Why was she holding back from telling Allan all the things she felt inside? She wanted to. A part of her did, anyway. But another part of her was convinced he didn’t want to hear it. He’d already made it clear. He’d agreed with her mother.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Michele? You look as if you’re going to cry.”
    â€œI just realized why I’m not sharing all these things with Allan. It was a conversation at the house about a month ago, after a Sunday dinner. Everyone else had left. You and Tom had taken the kids upstairs. Allan and I were helping my mom put the kitchen back together. I don’t know how we got into it, but my mom was trying to comfort me about this not-getting-pregnant thing. And she brought up that ‘it’s only been a year’ argument, so I shouldn’t be that concerned. Allan jumped right in there with her, saying we had all kinds of time, and that maybe I shouldn’t be focusing on it so much.”
    She inhaled deeply and said, “I have such a strong need to hold a child in my arms. My child. I want to press her soft little face next to mine.” Her words began to falter. “It’s all I think about, Jean. They don’t seem to understand how much this matters to me. No one does.”

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    A n old-fashioned