Oceans Apart

by Karen Kingsbury

  The pause at the other end frightened Connor in a way that was irrational. “We've known Max all his life, Mr. Evans, but we're old enough to be his grandparents. I'm afraid we wouldn't be much good to a boy as active as Max. The same is true for Ramey.”

  “Ramey. The baby-sitter?”

  “Yes. Ramey would take him, but the doctors have said she has a year or two at best. Heart disease is winning the battle for her energy, and caring for Max would only make her disease less manageable.”

  “I see.” So there it was. He alone was the answer for the boy. The responsibility was almost as overwhelming as the possibility. “Anything else?”

  “Hmmm …” The attorney thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I almost forgot about Buddy. Max's best friend is his Labrador retriever, Buddy. The two were inseparable before Kiahna's death, and now … well, the dog hasn't left his side ever since.”

  “Meaning …”

  “Meaning would you mind if Buddy came with him for the visit? He's completely house-trained, and in warm weather you can keep him outside around the clock. I think it would be helpful for Max.”

  Connor didn't doubt it. But he and Michele had long since agreed that dogs belonged on wide open farms. Fencing one up in a neighborhood lot was cruel, and often resulted in the kind of incessant barking that turned neighbors into enemies. Besides, Michele had never liked the idea of owning pets. Too much mess and upkeep. The girls were content with their Barbies and goldfish.

  He took a moment to imagine what Michele would say if he came home and told her that Max was coming with his dog. A shudder worked its way down his spine, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, no. I'm afraid we can't have the dog. Is there anywhere he can stay?”

  Disappointment rang from the attorney's voice. “I discussed that with Ramey, the boy's baby-sitter. She offered to keep Buddy if you were unwilling.”

  Unwilling. The word poked darts at his conscience, but he could do nothing about it. Bringing Max home would be shock enough, without bringing the dog, too. “I'm sorry, Mr. Ogle. The news has been hard enough on my wife.”

  “Of course.”

  “It's only two weeks.”

  “I understand.”

  But would Max? How was the boy supposed to feel, yanked from his home and his dog and everything he knew about life and sent to live with a family he'd never met? The question sent an undercurrent of doubt across Connor's resolve.

  The attorney launched into some of the details. He was online now, surfing the Internet and finding flights that would work. The most likely one was outbound on the airline Connor flew for. He promised to take care of the reservation, and the conversation stalled.

  Mr. Ogle changed directions. “You understand Kiahna's intentions in requesting this visit, is that correct, Mr. Evans?”

  “Yes.” Connor's stomach tightened. “It's a trial. If we … if it works out, we would keep him.”

  “Exactly. Kiahna didn't list you on the boy's birth certificate. So even though you're his biological father, you and your wife would need to go through the courts to make his adoption legal.” The man paused. “And if you don't want him, Kiahna wishes for you never to contact the boy again.”

  Connor had assumed as much, but he hadn't been sure until now. He felt the stakes of the boy's visit triple. “I'm not sure which way it will go. Not yet anyway.”

  “Would you like to know my thoughts?” The hint of a smile sounded in the attorney's voice.

  “Okay …”

  “You'll keep him.”

  Connor tightened his grip on the phone. The idea seemed impossible at this point. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know Max, Mr. Evans. It's simple, really. Max is an easy boy to love.”

  The conversation ended, but Connor sat stone still, replaying the attorney's words in his head. His son sounded like a fantastic kid, but what if he came to visit and hated Florida? What if all he wanted was to catch the next plane back to Hawaii so he could be with this Ramey woman and the Ogles and his best friend, Buddy?

  Of course that was only half the battle they faced.

  The real issue was how Michele and the girls would take to his presence in their family. Timing for Max's visit would be perfect. The boy would arrive Friday, just in time for the family's annual camping trip, a time when the kids took a few days off school and they enjoyed their favorite lake without the usual crowds. Connor had asked Michele if she wanted him to wait and have the boy visit the following week, when the vacation was over, but she said no.

  “We might as well get used to him, Connor. Whether he comes on the vacation or not, he'll be with us. There's no getting around it.”

  While her answer wasn't exactly positive, she hadn't refused.

  The more Connor thought about the plan, the better it seemed. They'd made reservations almost a year earlier for their favorite spot, a shady campground just off Lake Okeechobee. The boat docks were fifty yards away in one direction, the beach fifty yards the other way. Connor had serviced the jet skis and gone over the camping equipment days ago.

  He had no doubt that once the boy got past feeling homesick, he would like their family. And if he was as lovable as Mr. Ogle thought him to be, then they would all love him in return.

  Even Michele.

  THIRTEEN

  The phone call came later that day.

  Max was at school, and Ramey learned the news just before lunchtime. Max was going to Florida to spend two weeks with the man who had fathered him. Not that Max would know. The man was only willing to take the boy for two weeks, and Buddy wasn't welcome for even that long.

  Ramey settled into her chair near the television.

  No question, it wasn't fair. But then that was the way of life, wasn't it? How fair was it that she was sick, that even if she wanted Max she couldn't care for him in her condition? She glanced down at the floor near her chair, where Buddy lay curled in a ball. At least she could take care of Buddy. He was a good dog, and she would be there for him when he missed Max.

  Earlier that day she'd gone to Kiahna's apartment and sorted through some of her belongings. A moving company was coming to take her furniture to storage until Marv Ogle could decide what to do with it. Ramey had offered to pull together a few bags of clothes for Max and whatever items might be too precious to place in storage.

  She found the journal in a nightstand beside Kiahna's bed.

  Inside was a detailed accounting of her time with Max's father, as well as her reasons for standing by her faith in the years since. Dozens of entries were devoted to Max, and Ramey's eyes were blurred before she placed the clothbound book in a bag and moved on.

  An hour later she had packed everything of any sentimental value. Max's baby book, two photo albums, a box of his schoolwork, and Kiahna's Bible. Mr. Ogle had offered to come by and collect the heavy clothes bags when he was finished with work. But the other items, Ramey brought home herself.

  The small bag sat near the patio door, and Ramey struggled to her feet. Maybe something in Kiahna's journal would help her know how to break the news about the trip to Max. She opened the book and thumbed through it.

  Her eye connected with an entry dated November 12, 1996. Ramey worked the numbers in her mind and realized Kiahna would've been maybe three months pregnant. A twinge of guilt hit her as she stared at the date. Maybe Kiahna wouldn't have wanted anyone but Max to see her journal. But then, this was different. Kiahna would've wanted her to read the journal if it could shed any light on the way she'd felt about Max's father.

  She took a deep breath and found the beginning of the entry.

  The doctor says the baby is growing fine, but he knows nothing of my heart, how much I wish I could call Connor and tell him the truth. But I won't, not now or ever. I promised God and myself. If things had been different, Connor and I would've fallen in love slow and proper, married and lived a hundred years together. But he was already spoken for, already committed to a family he loved.

  God's ways were
clearer to me after Connor. Of course God didn't want us to be together that night because, despite the way we shared our hearts, we should have waited. Then I would've known about his wife, his family. Instead I gave in to my emotions, and now the shame of what we did will stay with me a lifetime.

  No, nothing will change my mind about calling him, not even the precious baby growing within me.

  When this child is older, maybe he'll seek Connor out for himself. I'll explain that yes, I loved his father—if only for a short time. But what we did by coming together that August was wrong, and I will beg God's forgiveness every day of my life as long as I live. Even so, that doesn't change the way I felt about Connor. Or how determined I am to keep the truth about our baby to myself.

  One day, though, one day it could happen. If my God and Father takes me home before my child is full grown, it'll be up to Connor. Because if that happens I'll want my baby to find him.

  I pray that if that happens, that God will be merciful in bringing forgiveness to Connor's family. Forgiveness for me and Connor and anyone else who was hurt by what happened that stormy night.

  Ramey blinked and a single tear fell on the page just beneath where Kiahna's entry ended. So she had loved the man, after all. The young woman's words were exactly what Ramey had hoped to find. Connor wasn't a man she hated, or someone who had hurt her. He was a man already spoken for.

  No wonder Kiahna had never fallen in love again. She took her love for Max's father with her to the grave, as determined to leave him alone as she'd been the day she'd written that journal entry.

  Ramey closed the book and stared out at the simple patio beyond her sliding glass door. Nearly all her life she'd shied away from prayer and talk of God. But now, in light of Kiahna's journal entry, she felt obligated to ask Him for a little help. Just in case He was real and actually could hear her.

  “God …” At the whispered word, she glanced around the room, as though perhaps a flash of light might race through it. She let her eyes settle on the ceiling. After a moment of silence she felt safe enough to continue. “God, if You're up there, then You've got Kiahna now, and … well …” Her words stuck in her throat and she brought her fingertips to her eyebrows. This wasn't a time to cry, not when she had business with God.

  She waited for the lump in her throat to ease some. “If You've got Kiahna, then You know how much we miss her. And You know how hard things are for Max.” She did a short cough and swallowed back the sadness in her voice. “From the sounds of it, Kiahna made a mistake with Max's father. But, God … I know how sorry she was. She died sorry, I'm sure of it. And now, well, now Max is in a heap of trouble, because what man would want to find out about a son he never knew he had, a son who might ruin his marriage or his whole family.”

  Her hands fell back to her lap and she soothed her thumb over the worn cloth cover of Kiahna's journal. “What I'm saying, God, is Max needs a little help here. If You want the boy to live with this … this Connor man, then You're going to need to work a miracle. A forgiveness miracle, God. Otherwise none of this will work out, and Max will wind up—”

  The sadness came then, and Ramey could do nothing to stop it. Because if God didn't work a forgiveness miracle for all of them, then Max would become a ward of the state. And there was no telling what would happen to him after that.

  Ramey leaned over and snatched a tissue from the box on the coffee table. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose and ordered herself to get a grip. If God was still listening, she needed to finish her prayer. For Max's sake.

  “So, God, please … do this thing for Max. And if You do, I promise You something …” Ramey hesitated. She hadn't planned on making any promises to God, but her words were flowing without a filter. “I promise I'll believe in You, God. If You let Connor and his family forgive each other, if You let Max find a place with them, I'll believe in You for the rest of my life.”

  When Max came home from school, Ramey piled him and Buddy and a picnic dinner into her beat-up station wagon.

  “What about my homework?” Max bit his lip. He seemed unsure about the trip. But then he'd been unsure about most of life since his mother's death. The only time he looked at peace was when he was reading the Bible his mother gave him the year before, or when he sat with Buddy out on the patio.

  Ramey sighed and motioned Max to come closer. “Buddy loves the beach, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So let's do homework later. Let's spend a few hours on the sand. You can play with Buddy, and then we'll have a picnic and talk a little.”

  Red flags flashed in Max's eyes. “Talk about what?”

  “About life, Max, okay? About life.” Ramey turned for the door. “Come on. Buddy needs to get out.”

  Max set his backpack down and followed her.

  They were set up at the beach half an hour later with an early picnic dinner of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and red fruit punch. When they were finished eating, Max and Buddy ran down the beach to chase seagulls.

  Ramey brought a bag with her and pulled out a notebook. The idea had been forming in her mind since earlier, after reading Kiahna's journal. If Max was going to spend two weeks with this Connor Evans man and his wife, then several things seemed certain. First, if Kiahna had loved the man in so short a time, Ramey had no doubt that he'd cared for her in return. That meant that no matter what grief the news about Max caused him, Connor would feel for the boy. Max had that effect on people; his father would be no exception.

  The problem was bound to be with Connor's wife.

  Ramey thought back to the days before her own husband died. How badly would her world have been shaken if he'd come home one day with that kind of news? That he had a son in another state, with a woman he'd slept with while they were married?

  She watched Max run through the surf, Buddy close at his heels. It wouldn't matter if the child was wonderful. The blow would've been enough to knock her off her foundation. Maybe even tear their marriage apart.

  The idea came to her after the prayer, after she begged God—if He was listening—to make a forgiveness miracle for Connor's family. Maybe she could do something to help, give a message to the man's wife about what God might want in this situation.

  She opened the notebook and found a clean sheet of lined paper. Then, with another glance at Max, she began to write.

  To Mrs. Evans:

  Hello. My name is Ramey, and you don't know me. I've been Max's baby-sitter for all of his life. Whenever his mother was out of town on a flight, the boy was with me. During that time I haven't been much of a believer. In fact, I haven't believed in God at all, really.

  But now as I watch Max, as I think about the months and years he has ahead, I want to believe, ma'am. With all my heart I want to believe.

  Marv Ogle tells me that you and your husband are Christians, the same way Kiahna was a Christian. I've read through some of Kiahna's journal so I might understand Max's situation better, and what I found has given me the beginning of belief. Enough so that I've asked God for a forgiveness miracle for Max.

  You see, ma'am, I might not be very educated, but I know it will take a forgiveness miracle for life to work out the way Kiahna and even, I think, God wants it to work out.

  She kept writing, detailing for the woman a Scripture she'd found on the inside cover of Kiahna's journal. It was a verse that seemed strong, somehow, in a way Ramey had never felt before. She ended the letter as best she could. Then she folded it and placed it in an envelope. Across the front she wrote, For Mrs. Evans. Before Max left she would stick it in his Bible and remind him to give it to the woman. Then she wrote Max a short note. She would stick both letters and a picture of Kiahna and Buddy in Max's Bible. That way he'd remember what was in his heart even when he was so far away from home.

  She looked up and scanned the beach for the boy and his dog. The sun was dropping in the sky, and Max and Buddy had tired out. They sat together near the shore, Max digging his toes into the sand, looking out a
t the ocean, one arm flung around Buddy's neck.

  What could he be thinking? Ramey bit her lip. If she did nothing else for Max in all her life, she would stay happy that night. Sadness would only tell Max that whatever lay ahead could be even more painful than the days he'd already survived.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Max …”

  He turned his head in her direction. His eyes looked more at peace than they had earlier. “Yes, Ramey?”

  She swallowed hard. After this conversation his future would be set in motion, one way or another. “Can I talk to you, bucko?”

  His mouth hung open, as if her question scared him. But he stood and began walking, Buddy beside him. When they reached Ramey, they both dropped to the ground in front of her. Max looked up, his eyes searching hers. “Is this about Mommy's friend?”

  So the boy remembered. He'd probably been thinking about spending two weeks with a stranger ever since hearing his mother's letter. Ramey lifted her chin. No tears … no tears … “Yes, Max. It's about that.” She reached out and used her thumb to brush a lock of hair off from Max's forehead.

  The boy's eyes grew wide. “What about it?”

  “Well”—Ramey looked to the deep places of the child's heart—“Mr. Ogle found your mom's friend, and he wants to see you. He lives in Florida with his family. You'll be gone for two weeks.” She hesitated. “I wanted you to know.”

  Max's chin quivered some and anger flashed in his eyes. He put his arm around Buddy. “I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you.”

  Ramey had never been overly affectionate with the boy. She had never needed to be; Kiahna had showered him with more than enough love. But Kiahna was gone forever, and as Max's shoulders began to shake, she reached out to him. He stood and came to her, falling against her and burying his tan, little-boy face in the soft part of her shoulder. “Don't make me go, please, Ramey.”

  “Max … shhh. It's okay.” She soothed her hand against his back, and beside them Buddy rose to his feet and whimpered. “Your mom wants you to do this, remember?”