Then he saw it: Philippians. Hey, it was the closest thing to what she’d written. He checked the reference beside it and turned to the corresponding page. Now, what the heck was 4:13? He scanned the text and realized that occasionally there were large numbers that seemed to divide the writing into sections. He found section 4, and noticed that every sentence or two there were other, smaller numbers. His eyes darted past 11 and 12, and finally settled on 13. He read the words slowly: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”
Brian read the words over and over again until his head began to clear and tears filled his eyes. “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”
The keys.
Tears spilled onto the delicate pages, and he carefully closed the Bible.
Now if only he could learn how to use them.
Eighteen
The young women of Jerusalem have bowed their heads
to the ground.
LAMENTATIONS 2:10B
The call came three weeks later, early one morning, while she was studying the book of Romans. By that time, although she still prayed for Brian Wesley every day, she had decided he was not going to call. He had probably tossed the Bible first chance he had and never gave it another thought. That did not discourage her; she had seen the same rejection from a number of drunk drivers, and she knew she could not change their behavior. God did not ask her to be successful, just faithful. She would continue to pray for change in drunk drivers’ hearts as long as she had life.
Her phone rang and she answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Dimly, she heard the shaky sound of someone either crying or breathing heavy in the background. “Uh … it’s … it’s me. Brian Wesley. You know from, uh, court the other day.”
She closed her eyes. Thank you, Lord. “Yes, Brian, I remember. Have you been reading the Bible?” She hoped her voice sounded compassionate. She could tell this was difficult for him.
“No. Well, I mean, I looked at it or whatever, but … no. I haven’t read it. No.”
She waited, but he didn’t go on. “Is there something I can do for you, Brian. Would you like to pray?”
“No! Nothing like that. Just, well … maybe if you had time … could you, like, you know, meet me somewhere? Just to talk.”
The woman considered her schedule. She had planned to meet her daughter for lunch, but she could postpone it. For a moment she considered suggesting a nearby park, but then she caught herself. She didn’t know the man, and although she cared deeply for his soul, she did not want to put herself in any danger. “Tell you what, I’m pretty booked today, but why don’t you meet me at Church on the Way tomorrow morning?”
“Church where?”
“Church on the Way.” She gave him directions. “I’ll be sitting in the front row. We can talk in my office.”
She listened while Brian drew a deep, shaky breath, then released it slowly. “I guess.”
He hung up abruptly, and she replayed the conversation in her mind. There had been so many who had not called after her initial contact.…
Then she hung her head and prayed.
The days were growing colder and Jenny sorted through her sweaters. They were too small. This happened every year, and when it did, she and Alicia would rummage through Alicia’s closet. Whatever was too small would be passed on to Jenny.
A chill passed over Jenny, and she rubbed her bare arms. She knew exactly which one of Alicia’s sweaters she wanted, and she padded softly into her sister’s room.
It had been a week since Jenny had stepped into Alicia’s room. It was still exactly as her older sister had left it before the camping trip. Her bed was made and because of Jenny’s efforts that day when they’d been packing, the floor was neat. An invitation to a birthday party still stood erect on Alicia’s nightstand. A list of scribbled dates and phone numbers lay on a scrap piece of paper beside her phone. Her walls still held poster pictures, one of Amy Grant and another with two cuddly puppies peering over the top of a fallen log. “God help me over the troubles of today,” the poster read. Jenny allowed her eyes to linger on the message before turning to Alicia’s closet.
A hint of White Shoulders perfume lingered on her sister’s clothes, and Jenny closed her eyes. She ached inside for the sound of her sister’s voice, for the touch of her hands as they wove her hair into a French braid. All Jenny’s life she’d been part of a pair of sisters … without Alicia she felt lost beyond anything she could have imagined. She remembered a time two years ago when Alicia had gone to summer camp with their church. She’d been gone five days, and the afternoon she returned Jenny had waited outside for her to pull up in the church van.
“Jenny!” Alicia had squealed as she jumped from the van, her sleeping bag flying behind her.
Jenny remembered how they’d hugged in the front yard until they were laughing so hard they had fallen in a heap on the grass. “I missed you,” Alicia had said when she caught her breath. “Next time you come, too.”
Jenny opened her eyes. The sweaters looked much better on Alicia than they did on the hangers. She sorted through the rack twice, but the sweater she wanted was missing. It was a navy pullover with two white horizontal stripes that circled it just above the waist. It had been Alicia’s favorite. Mom would know where it was.
“Mom!” Her mother had an appointment at MADD that morning, or maybe with the prosecutor or someone else at the court building. Something. She was always busy these days.
She heard her mother approaching and watched as she peeked into the room.
“What are you doing?” Hannah’s hands flew to her hips.
Jenny felt tears sting at her eyes at her mother’s mean tone. “I’m looking for a sweater, if that’s all right with you.”
“In Alicia’s closet?” Her mother came a few steps closer and seemed to survey Alicia’s clothes, to make sure nothing was missing.
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother. In case you forgot, Alicia and I always shared clothes. When she outgrew her stuff, she gave it to me.”
Her mother sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just thought we should leave things the way they are in here.” She tried to pull Jenny into a hug.
Tears spilled onto Jenny’s cheeks as she jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Jenny—”
“No! You don’t love me at all, do you?”
“Now, Jenny, that isn’t fair. I just don’t want—”
“Stop! I know what you want. You want this room to be a shrine. You and I can tiptoe around the house pretending to be alive, but really we’re just existing in some kind of … I don’t know, some kind of tomb or something.”
“It’s not like that, Jenny, I—”
“Forget it!” Jenny cut her off, but a whisper of fear ran over her. Was that shrill and trembling voice really hers? “All I wanted was to wear one of Alicia’s sweaters. The blue one with the white stripes. I’m cold, okay? Alicia would have wanted me to wear it. But it’s … it’s missing!” Jenny’s tears gave way to sobs, and she felt rooted in place, unable to move as the sobs washed over her.
Hannah slumped back against the poster of the two puppies, stared at the ceiling, and began to cry. “I’m so sorry, Jenny. I do love you. I don’t … want you to think just because Alicia’s gone …”
“Spare me, Mother, please!” Jenny shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Her mother’s shoulders shook as she hunched against the wall, her eyes tightly closed. When she opened them, her words were barely a whisper. “The sweater’s at Kerry’s. Next door.”
Jenny hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should thank her mother, or hug her, or say something to mend the distance that continued to grow between them. In the end, she just walked away, wiping her tears as she pushed past her mother.
Kerry and Kim Basil had been friends with Alicia and Jenny most of their lives. Kerry and Alicia
were the same age, as were Kim and Jenny. Until the accident, Kim had been one of Jenny’s best friends, but now, like so many girls Jenny knew, Kim seemed to be avoiding her.
Jenny knocked on the Basils’ front door and waited until the girls’ mother answered. She was a heavyset woman who always seemed to have something home-baked in the oven. “Jenny!” The woman wiped her hands on her apron and pulled her into a warm hug. “We’ve missed seeing you around here.”
Jenny savored the feel of a mother’s arms around her, but she didn’t feel like making small talk, so she pulled away, thankful the woman hadn’t noticed her tear-stained face. “Mrs. Basil, Kerry borrowed one of Alicia’s sweaters last spring, the blue one with the white stripes. Would you care if I go up and get it?”
“No, dear, go right ahead. The girls are already gone. They take the bus, you know.”
Jenny nodded. She used to take the bus, too. Before the accident. Now her mother drove her to school, usually in an uncomfortable silence. Jenny started for the stairs. “Thanks, Mrs. Basil.”
“Try the closet shelf,” the woman called after her.
“Okay.”
Kerry and Kim shared a room, and Jenny had almost never seen it clean. Today was no exception. Jenny glanced around, then headed toward the closet. When they were younger, the four girls had played dress-up and Barbies and a dozen board games in this room. Jenny narrowed her eyes and studied the stacks of sweaters on the closet top shelf. She spotted Alicia’s sweater almost immediately and took it gently from where it lay near the bottom of a stack.
She held it up, and she could see Alicia, grinning and challenging her to a foot race at Winter Camp last year. Jenny looked back to see if Mrs. Basil had followed her up. Then she took the arms of the sweater and pulled them around her neck. She held the sweater that way, desperately wishing that Alicia still lived inside it. Her fingers brushed over the soft blue cotton, and she felt the tears again. She folded the sweater gently and tucked it under her arm.
As she turned to leave, Jenny’s eyes fell on a folded piece of paper atop Kim’s dresser. Kim’s name was scrawled across the front, and Jenny recognized the writing. Stacy Carson. Before the accident, the three of them had been inseparable. Jenny, Kim, and Stacy—they’d been a threesome that rarely quarreled, unlike so many other girls who hung out in trios.
Jenny moved closer to the dresser, checking the doorway once more for Mrs. Basil. She studied the paper and saw it was lined. A note. From Stacy to Kim. Curiosity got the better of her, and she lifted it gently from the dresser. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. The paper unfolded in her hands and she began to read:
“Hey Kimmie, it’s me. Can you believe it? I finished the math test early!!! You should be so lucky. It’s not as hard as I thought. Anyway, I talked to Leezer yesterday, and she says she wants me and you over for the sleepover this weekend. Yowwsa! I can’t wait. Oh, yeah. She said something about Jenny, but I told her what we talked about. You know, that we feel bad for her and everything—everyone misses Alicia. But Jenny’s different now. She’s not the same, and the rest of us have to accept it. I told her what we decided. You know, that Jenny really wasn’t our friend anymore. She was fine about it. She said she thought Jenny was acting weird, too. She said that happens sometimes. Anyway, Mr. Glintz is staring at me so I better stop. Can’t wait for Leezer’s party. Love ya! Stace.”
Jenny felt her blood run cold. These were her best friends. Writing about a party at Lisa Hanson’s house, and she wasn’t invited. Was she really that different? She folded the note and set it back on the dresser, then made her way downstairs, outside, and back up to her own bedroom.
She threw herself on the bed and gave way to the flood of tears drowning her heart. Staring at the wall that separated her room from Alicia’s, she sobbed loudly, unconcerned about her mother’s reaction or the need to be strong for the sake of appearance. Alicia’s blue-and-white sweater remained clutched tightly in her arms while the minutes passed. Eventually her weeping stopped.
“Jenny?” It was her mother. Jenny heard the door open.
“What?” She rolled over to face her mother and reached for a tissue.
“It’s time to go. I can’t be late, honey. I have an appointment at the—”
“I don’t care where your appointment is.” Jenny thought about staying home, about telling her mother she simply wasn’t up to another day at school … another six hours of watching people who once laughed and talked with her now whisper and stare at her in pity … six hours around Kim and Stacy, who were only pretending to be her friends.
No one cared about her anymore. Not her mother, not her friends. No one from youth group had called in weeks. Even God didn’t care, at least it didn’t seem like it. She sighed and stared at the ceiling.
“Jenny, I won’t have one of your temper tantrums today. You need to get out of bed and get ready. We have to leave in five minutes.”
Jenny closed her eyes and remembered the Internet. Hope stirred within her at the thought. She needed Daddy and Alicia so badly, and today she had a break after lunch. Maybe she could find out more online information. She stood up slowly, blew her nose and stretched. “You don’t need to watch me, Mother. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She moved quickly, suddenly motivated, her mind tracing the electronic paths she would take later that day when she resumed the most important task of her life.
Finding a way to join Daddy and Alicia.
Nineteen
City bus No. 2315 rattled and rumbled east on Vanowen Street, part of a steady flow of morning traffic past Shoup and Topanga Canyon and on into Van Nuys. The bus would take Brian part of the way, and he planned to walk the rest. The brakes screeched as the bus pulled over and Brian got out.
He still couldn’t believe he was doing this.
He walked three blocks until he saw it: Church on the Way. Strange name. He stood there staring at the building, doubting himself. What was the point in making the journey in the first place?
Brian thought about the man at the AA meeting who’d talked about Christ this and Jesus that. Man! What was he doing here, anyway? He wasn’t some religious freak. He didn’t need anyone’s help. This was his problem, his mess to figure out. He glanced about and saw a graffiti-covered bench nearby.
What am I doing here?
He turned away from the church, sat down on the bench, and dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples. Why had she given him the stupid Bible anyway?
The words he’d read came back to him: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” There was something so appealing about the thought. Brian blinked and stared blankly at the traffic whizzing past. He had never been very strong. Not even in high school. His friends could always benchpress more than he.
Somehow he knew the Bible words weren’t talking about physical strength, anyway. The more he said the words over in his mind, the more he knew what they meant. Inner strength. The strength to say no when Jackson brought home a sixer of brews. Brian sighed. He’d never had that kind of strength.
The traffic continued, and Brian thought the flow of cars was a lot like his life. The drunken nights and hungover mornings would continue in a never-ending series unless he found the guts to stand up, walk into that church, and stop it. The keys to his prison cell. He gazed over his shoulder, then slowly stood.
With a steadying breath he made his way to the front door and stepped inside. For the first time in his life, in a way that he could not explain and did not feel responsible for, he felt an overwhelming surge of hope.
Hannah climbed out of her car and wandered past a hot dog vendor, down a winding sidewalk shaded by elm trees, and into the back entrance of the Superior Court Building. By now, she moved with confidence. She knew where to go, and she quickly made her way to Matt Bronzan’s office. He was expecting her.
His door was open and she peered inside. A subtle hint of men’s cologne hung in the air, an
d Hannah felt herself relax. There was something reassuring about the man, something that went beyond his role as prosecutor.
Matt saw her and returned his sleek, black pen to its upright holder. “Come in.” He rose and motioned for her to sit down. “I was just doing busywork.”
Hannah settled into the chair and gazed out his window. There was silence for a moment. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Santa Ana winds had kicked up, and a warm breeze had lifted the veil of smog from the valley. The Santa Monica Mountains were crystal clear, as if all Hannah had to do was reach out the window and she could run her finger over their sharp edges.
Matt followed her gaze. “A last burst of summer.”
Hannah nodded and turned her attention back to him. “Seems funny, with Thanksgiving a week away.”
They studied each other and Matt spoke first. “Do you have plans?”
Images of the fight she’d had with Jenny earlier that morning flashed in her mind. “No. Not really.”
“It’s early, still.”
“Yes.” Hannah’s eyes narrowed and she studied her golden wedding band.
“But you think you’re ready for victim impact panels?” Matt spoke slowly and he seemed at ease in her presence.
Hannah nodded. “It’ll matter more now than later. Yes … I’m ready.”
“Carol’s told you about them, how they work?”
“She’ll put me with two other victims and assign us to public speaking events. High schools, civic meetings, that sort of thing.”
“Right … and you’ll have to tell the story, the details about what happened.”
Hannah gazed down at her hands again. “I can do that.”
“People want to hear about the accident, the loss you’ve suffered. But then it’s up to you to close the discussion with a sales pitch.”
Hannah cocked her head. “Sales pitch?”
“Yes. People are drawn by tragedy. They want to know how it happened and why, how they can avoid that sort of thing in their own lives.”
Waiting for Morning Page 17
