Free Contingency (Covenant of Trust) by Paula Wiseman Page A

away.
    Suddenly a stranger in his own house, Chuck stepped into the entry hall. Brad’s first grade picture hung in its place in a new frame. Bobbi’s pillow and blankets lay in the corner by the sofa. She couldn’t sleep. He wished lost sleep was all he had to atone for.
    Chuck followed the exotic coffee aroma and found Bobbi in the same spot at the kitchen table where he had last seen her on Thursday. He wanted to go to her, pour out his heart, beg for her forgiveness, but the coolness hanging over the room stopped him. As their eyes met, he saw resolve and determination. He debated whether to sit or stand. “Have a seat,” she said, her voice steady and firm.
    He dropped into the chair opposite her. “Thanks for letting me ... uh ... come by.”
    “Do you want to be with this woman?” She looked at him, not flinching or blinking, no warmth or compassion in her deep brown eyes, and he looked away.
    “No.” His wife’s bluntness flustered him as she seized control of the conversation.
    “Do you want out of this marriage?”
    “No, of course not. I didn’t go looking for this. I ... I was stupid, and put myself in a ... well, in a situation where I would be tempted, and then I gave in.”
    “Who is she?”
    Bobbi heard the phone message. She knew exactly who Tracy was. Every lawyer knows you don’t ask a question unless you already know the answer. He could pass this test. “An attorney at the firm. She’s been there a few months.”
    “Well, she certainly didn’t waste any time. Very ambitious.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Chuck, your name is on the side of the building! Do you honestly think she came on to you because of your charm and good looks?”
    “She’s not like that.” Tracy wanted him as much as he wanted her ... didn’t she?
    “Whatever.” Bobbi rolled her eyes in disgust. “How old is she?”
    “I don’t know, thirty or thirty-five.”
    “Is she married?”
    “No.”
    “How many times?”
    “What?” The questions were coming so fast, he couldn’t catch his breath. She should have been a prosecutor.
    “How many times ... did you ... sleep ... with her?”
    “Three.” He dropped his eyes. Please, don’t make me tell you any more than that.
    “In my house?”
    “Never.”
    “How long has this been going on?”
    “About three weeks.”
    Bobbi paused a moment in her questioning, then murmured, “When the boys and I were in Detroit.”
    Chuck fought back tears. “I swear, that’s not why I stayed home. It’s just ... that’s when it started.” He knew every word hurt her, but only the blinking of her eyes betrayed it.
    “Is she pregnant?”
    “No.”
    “How do you know that for sure?”
    “She told me she used a patch.” Chuck shifted in his chair and went on offense. “Bobbi, I can never explain this or justify myself. I know I can’t begin to understand how much I’ve hurt you, but you and the boys are my life. I am sorry and I promise you before God that I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
    “You made me a promise before God eighteen years ago, Chuck.” She spoke his name with such hopelessness that he feared it might already be too late.
    “Bobbi, please. I love you. Give us a chance.”
    She didn’t answer him, but went to the refrigerator for a bottled water. He watched her slowly twist the cap off, then sip from the bottle. He knew she was debating, weighing her options. She rejoined him at the table, and his chest tightened. Here it came—her terms.
    “I trust Phil for counseling,” she said. “Do you?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Are you committed to counseling with him?”
    “Are you?”
    “I’m asking the questions.”
    “I will do whatever Phil tells me is in our best interest. He wants me to tell the church.”
    “Are you going to?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You’re not going to do the first thing he tells you to do?”
    “That’s not what I said. It’s more complicated than that.”
    Bobbi took a long