Was This God's Plan?

Happy January! I finished this one a while ago. Every time I looked at it, I tweaked it, and I was starting to annoy myself. So, once I figured out the title, I decided to publish.

Was this God's plan

, is a story that challenges a man's marriage and faith. While aspects of God and religion are the footnotes of this story, I will not be representing nor speaking from the pulpit. It is just a storyline to augment the premise. I can also guarantee that there will be no ninjas, special forces, Mexican whorehouses, or elaborate setups.

I can promise humility, bad choices, human error, and hidden family dynamics. Oh... end (haha, and) errors in spelling and grammar. This is the first time I've used a BBH theme (Bitch burns herself?) It's not the first story to have it, and I'm not sure what the proper abbreviation is. It seems LW loves abbreviations. Maybe BBBG? (Bitch burned by guilt?). I'll keep working on it.

While I have worked with homelessness and experienced church life, I've never been a lawyer and I'm sure those who require complete accuracy will be upset with the liberties I took in any legal doings. It's just a story, it's not real and I'm not a real writer. If I got paid big bucks, I'd do the deep research... or hire someone to do it for me.

Bit of a longer read, so I put in chapters should you wish to stop and start. I'm guessing this is a very personal issue. I hate waiting for chapters because I usually have to reread the last one to refamiliarize myself anyway. So, as others have done, I've included natural break points if you need to sleep or go pee.

Wishing you all a year that surpasses your goals and needs.

C_T

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It was busy today. Sadly, it seemed busy every day. It was a sign of the tough economic and sociological times. I took my tray and looked for the table furthest away from any doors or people. Solitude was my safety zone these days and I made every attempt to maintain it. Fortunately, the old card table in the back corner had only two chairs; currently, neither was being used. I quietly pulled the chair back and placed my tray on the brown paper makeshift tablecloth.

After sitting down, I pulled the thread barren gloves from my hands and reached for the alcohol hand wipe package. After a thorough cleaning, I pulled my hood a little tighter over my head and began the simple act of eating. I was never a picky eater and when you're relying on the kindness of a soup kitchen, that works in your favor. I no longer eat for pleasure, but for survival essentially. I checked my baggy pocket to confirm the extra chocolate milk and protein bar the elderly lady at the end of the line gave me. She always smiled and said kind words to you. I wasn't the only one she did this for, but I was grateful. Despite my hunger, I purposely ate slowly. It was a mind-over-matter approach. Chew and taste everything. They usually allowed you 30 minutes to eat and use the facilities before you were expected to leave. In winter they would permit you an extra 15 minutes to get as warm as possible before departing. Being late September, the days were still nice, but the nights could get cool for sure.

"Andrew?" I heard my name called out from behind me. I stopped eating for a second but chose to ignore the anonymous inquiry. Unfortunately, it came again. "Andrew? Is that you?" I could sense a man approaching me from the side.

It was one of the reasons why I tried to avoid the soup kitchen. It didn't happen often, but I've run into people I recognize, and they're always on the other side of the counter if you know what I mean. So far, I've avoided any awkward reunions. Realizing the individual wasn't going to leave me alone, I turned my head to inspect the source of the voice.

*Oh, shit. *

"Father Murphy." I resumed my eating.

"By the grace of God, it is you." Father Murphy is the priest at the church that my (once) family and I attended regularly, although it's been 4 years since I set foot in the chapel.

"May I join you?" The priest gestured to the empty chair.

"Still a free country, Father." I was hoping he'd sense my disinterest and move on quickly, but today was not my lucky day.

He carefully sat down in the old metal chair. The priest was in his late 70s or early 80s by now. After he organized himself and his thoughts, he spoke again. "I haven't seen you since..." He stopped and restarted. "I haven't seen you in church in a while, son."

I stopped eating and frowned at him over my tray. "Forgive me Father, but I thought it best not to."

His look softened as he considered my words. I'd always liked Father Murphy. He was old school, but still had a sharp wit and a decent grasp of today's issues. He'd had dinner at our house many times. Well, what used to be our house.

"Merideth and the girls are still active in the congregation. Your girls are growing into beautiful young women, Andrew."

I dropped my spoon into my bowl causing a loud metallic sound, startling the priest. "Father Murphy... please do not mention them. That part of my life no longer exists. You telling me how beautiful they are is..." I had to control the surge of emotion. "I'm trying to move on, Father."

I stood to leave; hunger be dammed. Before I could push the chair away his hand quickly grasped my forearm. "I wish not to bring you tidings of sorrow, my son." He slowly stood with me and looked at my ragged apparel. "Would you indulge me one more minute Andrew? Would you please follow me?"

"I no longer care for surprises Father. I've had more than my fair share."

"I have no intention to deceive you, Andrew. Please... please come with me." He motioned to his side of the table and after a moment of consideration, I nodded and followed him.

I grabbed my bun off my tray and followed the old priest through the maze of tables until we entered the volunteer area. He led me to a stall, where he had hung his outside clothes. He bent down picked up a pair of expensive hiking-style boots and presented them to me.

"I remember that we have the same size feet, Andrew. I'd like you to take these with you. They are meant for much more demanding things than an old man walking to and from church."

I shook my head. "No thank you, Father. I don't need your handouts."

He stepped closer to me. "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall."

"Proverbs 16:18..." I whispered in response.

"Come back to the church, Andrew. If not my church, another. God's word is for all of us. I know you have the light of Christ in you. Don't let it perish."

I considered the old priest for a moment. "Tell me, Father. Do you believe I did all those things? Do you think me capable of something like that?" I could see he was struggling with the words.

"It is not my place to judge, Andrew."

"I didn't ask you to judge. I asked if you thought me capable."

"All men have sin in them, Andrew. Sometimes the sin is triumphant."

A slick answer if I do say so myself. I reached for the boots and took them. "Fear not Father for I have no doubt where my soul will spend eternity. Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged." I paused. "You should do a service around that scripture Father. I'm sure there are members of your congregation that could use the reminder."

I began walking to the exit when Father Murphy spoke one last scripture. "For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you."

I looked back one last time. "I'm curious Father. Was that meant for me, or Merideth? My heart and soul are intact Father. I fear no judgment from the great creator when my time comes. He knows my heart and most of all... he knows the truth."

No longer wishing to swap bible verses, I walked out the door and headed down the alley located at the back of the soup kitchen. I stopped at the dumpster and tossed the worn-out dress shoes I had come across a month ago, for the high-end hiking boots. I immediately felt the comfort of the quality footwear and smiled for the first time in... a long time. It wasn't a life that I had chosen, that's for sure, but given the choices thrust upon me, I'm content to live as I am for what years I have left. God has a plan for all his children, so I put my faith into that.

Five years earlier...

"I'm sorry, Merideth. What did you just say?"

My wife of 15 years stood at the foot of our bed, fidgeting with her hands, in front of her satin slip. She was as beautiful as the day we met. Actually, she was even more so now. Softened a little by age and motherhood, she was everything to me and I'd spent the better part of 17 years proving that to her. We lived a comfortable life, never feeling the financial pinch that happens to so many couples. I was the shift manager at a very large fabricating plant, whose services were sought after by some of the biggest names in tech and hardware. Up until 9 months ago, Merideth was a stay-at-home mom, but with the girls becoming more self-sufficient, she found part-time work at a lawyer's office, as a legal aid. Jenny (11) and Gina (9) were the apples of my eye and constantly made me prouder by the day. They were daddy's girls but the years together with their mom had made the trio very tight and it warmed my heart when they ventured to do stuff together.

I watched her fidget for another minute. "Merideth?" My heart was in my throat.

"It would just be sex, Andrew. Maybe once a week... or so." She couldn't even look me in the eyes.

That was her angle? I had come home from dropping my girls off at the in-laws, to the sound of Merideth in the shower. Part of me wanted to join her, but I knew if I did, we would likely be late for our dinner reservations. I hoped an adult's night out would help us find our rhythm again. Since she started working, our lives have become very hectic. Suppressing the urge, I headed toward my side of the closet to pick out what I was going to wear when I heard her phone chirp. I wouldn't say I liked that sound, but Merideth said it helped remind her that she had a text. It was lying face up on the bed and I could see the screen clearly.

Blake:

Did you tell him yet?

Blake? As in Blake Edwards, her boss? She always referred to him as Mr. Edwards or her boss. Blake seemed... personal. Now, I trusted Merideth with my heart and my life and never once felt the need to snoop, but the uncharacteristic text drew me like a moth to a flame. Neither of us password-protected our phones. We believed that whatever we shared through our phones was nothing neither of us didn't already know. It wasn't uncommon for Merideth to pick up my phone up to call her folks, just because it was closer.

I opened her messenger tab and saw the message cued to the top. Once I tapped it, I could see the conversation had a long train to it. So, of course, I began scrolling backward, wondering what she and 'Blake" had to talk about after hours. With every scroll, my heart thumped harder. It was almost in my throat after reading weeks' worth of messages. Messages that told me my marriage was in very deep trouble. It took some time to absorb what I was reading...

*Blake* You know I'm not talking long-term, Merideth. I'm not built like that. It would just be occasional sex. Hell, it could spice things up between you and the hubby. I'm sure he'll understand, once you explain it to him. I got a good feeling about this!

*Merideth* You make it sound so easy.

*Blake* It is! You two have forever together, I'm just asking for a year or two. It won't interfere with your lives. No trips, or late nights. We'll just have our fun in my office. Seriously, you won't be taking anything away from him. Just fuck him extra hard... LOL

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to digest what I was reading. Did she want to have an affair? Did she think I would approve of this? I hadn't noticed when she came out of the bathroom. She cleared her throat to get my attention.

"Earth to David." She giggled. "What are you reading?"

I turned her phone to face her. "All about your upcoming love affair with your boss." Her face went white as she grabbed her phone from my hand.

"You don't believe this crap, do you? He doesn't care about you or me. He's just looking to use you to get some action, and he likes the thought of humiliating me! He could be sued for sexual harassment for Pete's sake! He should know that... he's a lawyer!" Her lack of reaction was puzzling. "You're a smart woman, Merideth. How can you not see the snake in the grass?" Her face was stoic. Then the thought hit me like a train. "You want this," I swallowed hard. "Don't you?"

She fiddled more and her cheeks went red with embarrassment. "Understand, Andrew. I love you with all my heart and this would never come between us. You'll always be my priority. You'll never go without, sweetheart." If that wasn't bad enough, she had to twist the knife a bit more. "Who knows... it might make me better in bed. I could learn things."

"Learn things? Like what? Up until the last four or five months, and as far as I knew, we had a very active and progressive sex life, Merideth. Nothing has ever been off the table unless you veto it. So, what else could you learn?"

"That didn't come out right." She whispered.

"No shit!" I stood from our bed and stared at her. "No. End of story." I was about to walk away but stopped. "That's not quite right. No, and you need to quit your job ASAP. No wife of mine will whore herself out for a job." She winced at my volume and choice of words. I had never raised my voice at her in all our time together and I bet I swore a handful of times around her, usually involving a stubbed toe or a cut from the butcher's knife.

"Andrew... honey. Please let's talk this out. It's not that big of a deal." I shook my head and walked out of the bedroom. I got as far as the top of the stairs when I felt her run up behind me and grab my arm. "Andrew! Please! I love you!"

I turned to face her. "Really? Nothing says I love you with all my heart then, honey I want to fuck my boss once a week, maybe more." She hugged me hard and sobbed into my chest. I was thankful the girls were at my in-laws, and not having to witness this entire debacle.

"It's not like that!" She sobbed.

I worked her arms off me and grabbed her wrists holding them in front of me. "Why don't you just tell me you need your freedom and leave me, Merideth? This is torture!" I turned to walk back to our bedroom when I heard her scream.

"A-N-D-R-E-E-E-E-W-W...."

I turned as her hand missed the railing and she tumbled backward down the stairs. I rushed but was too late to stop her fall. When I got down to the bottom, she was on her right side moaning.

"Mer! Oh my god! Are you okay? Can you move your legs?" I could see her concentrate and watched her feet move. Her face was full of pain. "What about your arms?" She cried out immediately.

"I think I broke my arm." She groaned. She had blood on her forehead, and I ran into the kitchen to grab a dish towel and began wiping to see where the cut was. She had a deep gash above her right eye, and I applied pressure.

"I'm going to grab my phone and call 911." I bolted upstairs, three at a time, and made the call as I returned to Merideth. "Yes. My wife has fallen down the stairs and she's bleeding from her forehead and maybe broke her arm." We chatted back and forth, and the operator had me do some initial assessments to verify nothing life-threatening. After I gave my address, I hung up and gave my wife my full attention.

"What happened? I turned my back and the next thing I heard was you screaming." I kissed her cheek as I held the towel to her gash.

"I... I don't know. I felt faint and when I reached for the railing... I missed."

The guilt I felt was immediate. It was my fault she felt faint. I could've kept my anger at bay. I've always been level-headed. "I'm sorry Mer. I'm sorry I got so mad." Tears fell down my cheeks as I tried to grab hold of my emotions.

I heard the ambulance pull up and gently let her go and ran to the door to let them in. They were quick and were well into their evaluation when a police officer came through the door. He looked at me and I walked over to him.

"Everything okay? I heard the call through my radio, and I was in the neighborhood."

"I think so. They're looking at her now, at least she's conscious. I think she might have broken her arm." I offered.

"What happened?" The officer inquired.

"She fell down the stairs," I replied.

"How?"

I looked at him. "We were having an argument and when I turned to head back to the bedroom, I heard her scream and couldn't stop her from falling."

"Was the argument physical?"

I looked at him like he had just grown another head. "What? No! I turned to end the discussion." I could tell he was waiting for more. "She felt faint and when she reached to the rail for stability, she missed."

"That's how you saw it? I thought you said your back was turned?" His interest in me increased.

Sensing where this was going, I stared him dead in the eyes. "Those were her words when I asked her what happened. I'm sure when you ask her, she'll give you the same answer." I figured my explanation was clear and concise, but the look on his face didn't make me feel any better.

Twenty minutes later the paramedics had my wife on their gurney and placed her in the back of the ambulance. "I'll go check on the kids and tell your folks what's happened. I'll meet you at the hospital honey." I kissed her forehead, and she gave my hand a soft pat. I watched the ambulance pull away and the cop car followed shortly after. I took a few deep breaths, trying to refocus.

"What a mess." I whispered out loud to myself. Before I could get back inside, Helda, my sweet nosy neighbor was carefully walking across our lawn.

"Andrew? Is everything okay?" The older lady queried.

"Hi, Helda. No, not really. Merideth fell down the stairs and got pretty banged up." The old lady's hand shot over her mouth.

"Oh, my goodness. The poor girl." Helda kept asking me questions and I knew I was getting a little short with her because I needed to get going. Finally, with her curiosity filled with gossip-worthy information, I ran inside to gather my stuff and head to my in-laws.

I called ahead to give Bert and Glenda a heads-up. I asked that they let me talk to the kids about it and they agreed. The usual 15-minute commute took closer to 40 minutes thanks to an accident at the only bridge that gets you to the land mass they live on. When I arrived the four of them were in the living room watching a soccer game on TV. All eyes looked at me when I entered and my oldest read me like a book.

"What's wrong Dad?" Jenny asked with concern.

I sat down between them and told them about their mother and her trip to the hospital. The looks of concern were spread across all four.

"Can we go to the hospital with you?" Little Gina asked.

"I... I think you should hang out with Nana and Papa until I know what's happening. Her arm may be broken, so she could be tied up for a while. Once I know where things are at, I'll call Nana Glenda and she can bring you both for a visit, okay?"

The in-laws agreed with my process and encouraged the kids to hunker down until more information came our way. With some long hugs and kisses from my nervous daughters, I quickly used the bathroom before I rode to the hospital. When I stepped out of the door, Bert was waiting for me.

"Son? Is everything okay between you two?" I'm sure my look was one of shock. "Mer's been a little off with us lately and we thought maybe there was tension at home... and now this." He shrugged at me.