A Journey by Chance

by Sally John

  Gina determined to put the entire story out of her mind and enjoy the day. She had visited Chicago only a few times as a child, when her dad’s parents lived there. He didn’t have the extended family the way her mother did.

  She wished there would be time to visit one of the zoos, but this was obviously a shopping crowd. Well, except for Brady. He had a business meeting and would meet them later. Lauren sat up front with him now, glad to give him the driver’s seat. Her sister Liz sat in the back with Gina; her two friends Isabel and Abbey were in the middle. The four of them were bridesmaids and on a mission to help the bride purchase her honeymoon trousseau.

  They were a fun group of women, eager to laugh. And sing. Lauren was the school district’s band teacher, Abbey its music teacher, Liz the church choir director, and Isabel an announcer for the local Christian radio station. Gina soon relaxed.

  As the freeway lanes multiplied and traffic thickened, skyscrapers came into view. The city looked enormous. She listened with half attention as the others discussed where to meet. With a start, Gina realized that she didn’t have to make a decision about the schedule or anything. That felt good for a change. She could postpone her personal, heavyduty decision-making thought processes for today at least, couldn’t she?

  She needed a job. There was no denying that, but things were out of her hands for now. Four applications had been mailed seven weeks ago. One more went out last week. Those were out of her hands.

  Still, it seemed inadequate. She’d have to continue her research tomorrow. Her experience with zoological parks was extensive in a way and yet specialized. From the time she was 16, she had worked in some capacity at the Wild Creatures Country. Finally, three years ago she had received her degree as doctor of veterinary medicine and completed all the licensing requirements. When the Park needed an assistant vet to care almost exclusively for the large animals, her dream had come true.

  Her parents tried to encourage her, promising that when the time was right, she would find a job. Dad would laugh and say some elephant somewhere would need her services sometime.

  It was the “somewhere, sometime” part that unnerved her. She was a planner and had never been so long without step-by-step details solidly organized in her Day-Timer. She even had a page for listing future projects, some scheduled for ten years down the road. Even those were up for grabs now.

  And then there was that nagging impression that she kept shoving aside, a fear she never intentionally put into words, although it popped into her mind at times. Like now. Could I really do it again? Could I really stand face-to-face with an elephant—

  She clenched her jaw, cutting off the thought, forcing her attention back to the present. She was taking this day off!

  Glancing forward, her eyes locked with Brady’s in the rearview mirror for a long moment. Had she spoken aloud?

  She looked out the window. The fear was so audible in her head, she sometimes thought others must hear it. No doubt, though, it was probably written all over her face.

  Oh! Why doesn’t that man mind his own business?

  The brakes screeched as Brady jerked the van to a stop alongside the curb. “Water Tower Place, girls!” he shouted. “Have fun! Get moving! Here comes a bus! Meet me at 2:30! Don’t be—”

  Gina climbed last from the van, then with a wave slammed the door shut on his instructions. As the vehicle peeled away from the curb, a bus whooshed into its place.

  She stepped onto the sidewalk and immediately felt the urge to crane her neck. The soaring height of the buildings was unbelievable! She moved in a slow circle, chin up. Someone jostled past her. There was a tangible sense of excitement in the big-city air. While she gawked, the others discussed their agenda.

  “I vote for lunch.”

  “It’s only ten o’clock!”

  “Well, we want to stop later at Field’s in the Loop for ice cream. Maybe we could hold lunch off until then.”

  “Gina’s got goosebumps.”

  “It’s freezing today!” Gina rubbed her arms. In spite of sunshine, the air was cool. “What happened to hot and sticky?”

  “Didn’t you listen to the weather forecast? Cold front. This is 20 degrees below normal.”

  “Yeah, and hot and sticky was above normal for early June,” Lauren explained. “Let’s go sweater shopping for you first. It’s not going to warm up much today.”

  They ducked into the nearest department store and as a group chose a thick cotton, short, navy blue cardigan that matched her ivory slacks and top. The price stunned her.

  “Is this a group payment, too?” she asked only halfteasingly.

  “Welcome to Michigan Avenue,” Isabel offered.

  Lauren gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Single doctors can afford something a little special now and then, right?”

  Employed single doctors, Gina silently amended. The fact that she probably needn’t spend any more money along their shopping route was a comfort.

  The women made quick work of the tall, impressive indoor mall called Water Tower Place, then headed back outside toward a bookstore. It seemed an odd choice for trousseau hunting, but Lauren and Abbey explained there were teaching materials there that they couldn’t find anywhere near home.

  The group fanned out, and Gina wandered toward the new releases. Maybe she could spend some money to buy that novel she was reading and give the library book back to Brady. It would take care of the debt that gnawed at her every time she opened the thing.

  She studied the new release selections. The name “Brady” jumped out at her.

  Brady.

  Brady Olafsson?!

  Gina stared. There was the man’s name…on a book…on a hardback, new release novel…in Chicago. He was an author?

  Well, she knew that. Lauren had told her that.

  But…

  She picked it up and turned it over. There was his photograph. It really was him.

  Oh, my goodness.

  She flipped it back over. Rivers in the Desert. Number Three in the series, The Nazarene. Over 200,000 of Numbers One and Two Sold. The cover’s artwork was attractive. A beautiful woman in long white robes sat on a stone step alongside what looked like a well. Her face glowed, and she appeared to be looking expectantly at something not in the picture.

  Gina flopped it to her other hand and studied the color photo. It covered three-fourths of the jacket. The background was a mass of unfocused spring green leaves. Brady leaned nonchalantly, raised elbow resting against a tree trunk. The other hand balanced on his jeans-covered hip. He wore a pale yellow polo shirt that enhanced his tanned face and short blond hair. And he was smiling. A very nice smile that softened the square jaw and sharp angles of his face. It wasn’t the grin that irked her so.

  “That guy’s books are awesome.”

  Gina glanced at a young woman beside her, an employee straightening books on the shelf. “Oh?”

  “And he is sooo cool. He came here once for a signing. He’s even better-looking in person, and really, really tall with shoulders…well, just look at his shoulders.” She pointed to the picture. “Perfect for crying on, know what I mean? And he was the friendliest author we’ve ever had. It was like his personality just filled up the whole place.”

  “Hmm. I haven’t read his books.”

  “Really? Well the first two are in paperback now, but we just sold our last ones this morning. They’re on back order!”

  “It says they’re a series. Should you read them consecutively?”

  “No, they’re great stand-alones. Oh, excuse me.” The clerk left.

  The embarrassment Gina had felt early in the morning returned with intensity. Why wasn’t she aware that this Valley Oaks resident, her cousin’s friend, was a well-known author? Probably because she didn’t know the name before last week…she never picked up historical fiction. And she had been a bit preoccupied with her work…for the last 12 years or so, thousands of miles away.

  Hadn’t Lauren said the books were Christian? This was
a huge bookstore that carried all kinds of books. This was a major bookstore in Chicago that carried on its new release shelf a hardcover book written by Brady Olafsson of Valley Oaks, Illinois.

  Gina was stunned. There was no other word for it. Mr. Homespun was a bestselling novelist, and no one had even mentioned it! Aunt Lottie apparently wasn’t aware of the magnitude of that “something he had published a while back,” as she described it. Lauren had said the books were… what? Awesome. The same word the clerk had used and with the same emphasis. Lauren had not indicated he was nationally known. Well, in truth, Gina hadn’t paid attention to what she said.

  Would it have made a difference if she had? Probably not. He still would have been an annoying nuisance with a chip on his shoulder. After the visit to the cemetery, though, she had a pretty good idea of the source of his attitude.

  If she was going to keep running into the man for the next few weeks, she needed to get over her embarrassment. Perhaps the best defense would be to arm herself with information, to protect herself from being caught again by surprise.

  She knew about Rosie. She’d better learn what she could about this farmer who wrote awesome novels in his spare time.

  Gina carried the new release by Brady Olafsson to the checkout counter. It seemed that a good place to begin learning about the man would be to read about the Nazarene.

  Ten

  It was 3:30.

  Brady stomped into a Marshall Field’s elevator, jabbed his thumb against the top floor button, then bit back the first word that sprang to mind. He wiggled his thumb. It didn’t appear to be fractured. He exhaled sharply.

  Women!

  Of course they would be late. He knew it. He just knew it. From the moment he told Lauren sure, come along, he knew she and her friends would miss the 2:30 meeting time. He knew he’d be hanging out in the city long after his lunch was over.

  He had stood on the corner of State and Monroe for 30 minutes before spotting them rushing toward him, shopping bags bumping along among them. That was at 2:58. There was still a sliver of a chance they could race two blocks to where the van was parked and hit the freeway by 3:15.

  That was before their breathless apologies and excuses and stories, before he noticed Gina Philips wasn’t with them. With a sinking feeling he realized rush hour would be in full swing before he could sort through their babble. He suggested they continue shopping and meet again at 6:00. They had a better idea! They were taking him to dinner at 5:30, at an Italian restaurant just a few blocks away. And meanwhile could he take a few of their bags to the van and then fetch Gina?

  The elevator doors swished open now. Brady stepped out, loped past the elegant Walnut Dining Room and into a large, bright space of food merchandise displays and open eating areas. She was supposed to be at a table near the first window he would see on his left.

  He saw her, elbows propped with head in hands, bent over a newspaper. Her left leg was stretched out and resting on another chair. Lauren told him that Gina had tired from so much walking. After stopping here for ice cream, she convinced the others to finish their shopping without her. She would stay put and read until someone came for her at 2:20.

  Obviously she was a patient woman. He, on the other hand, had run out of patience some time ago on the first floor of this huge store that covered an entire city square block, trying to figure out where they hid the elevators. He wouldn’t have minded so much meandering around downtown Chicago by himself, but now he faced two hours alone with a lame porcupine. What was he supposed to do with her?

  He approached the table. “Hello.”

  She glanced up at him, then quickly looked back down.

  Brady’s stomach twisted. Her face was tear-streaked. “Gina?” His anger instantly dissipated. He pulled out a chair across the table from her and sat down. “Are you all right? Does your leg hurt?”

  She buried her face in a paper napkin and shook her head.

  He would have chosen a porcupine over a crying woman any day. She looked as if she needed a hug. “Can I do something?” Besides give you a hug, he added silently.

  She took a deep, tremulous breath. “No.” Her eyes were liquid emeralds. “It’s—” Her lower lip quivered and she bit it.

  “What?”

  She pointed at the newspaper and winced. “My elephant died.”

  “Your elephant?”

  “Delilah.” She caught the puzzled look on his face. “Oh, she wasn’t mine mine. I mean, I took care of her at the Park. She was special. She—” Her face crumpled again.

  He had forgotten she was a vet. “I’m sorry. Was she sick or just old?” Totally of its own accord, his hand covered hers on the table.

  Gina’s eyes widened and her breath caught. “Uh, no.” She shook her head slightly. “She wasn’t sick or, uh, old. Um, it’s kind of a long story.”

  “It must be a shock.” His touch seemed to have staunched the flow of tears. “And you just found out, sitting here in downtown Chicago?”

  She glanced toward the window, nodding. “I thought I’d buy a big-city newspaper and read some real news.”

  “Stuff you can’t get in the Valley Oaks Weekly Times?”

  “No offense.”

  “None taken. My copy of the Tribune is in the van.” He smiled.

  “Van. Oh my goodness!” She slid her hand from under his and looked at her watch. “What time is it? We’re late, aren’t we? I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s not your fault. The others were late, so we’ve changed plans.” He stopped, thinking of how her hand had felt beneath his. It was broad with long, slender fingers. Strong. A doctor’s hand.

  She hurriedly folded the newspaper and stuffed it into a shopping bag, gathered it along with her purse, and lowered her leg. “The rush hour traffic must be impossible here.”

  “Mmm, yes, it is. It’s best to wait it out. We’re, uh, going to meet for dinner at 5:30.” Again he stopped. Her eyes were still red. There was a speck of dried tear salt on a cheek. He resisted the urge to rub his thumb over it. Her chocolate hair was smoothed back into a ponytail low on her neck. She wore the tiny gold hoop earrings.

  “Oh.” She glanced at her watch again. “Well, I can stay put. I’m sure you have things you could do.”

  He gave himself a mental shove. A good-looking chick sat across the table from him. One of the world’s most fascinating cities lay just beyond the window. Now what exactly was his problem? “Let’s go exploring. I had the Art Institute in mind.”

  A blush tinged her cheeks. “Well, I, uh, I think I’ve walked my limit today. I should have worn my brace, but I wasn’t expecting a major hike across concrete—”

  “I’m sorry.” Where was his mind? “Of course. That’s the whole reason you’re sitting here. Well, let’s see…we could, um, ride. How about a bus tour? They leave every 15 minutes or so.”

  She shrugged, sniffled, looked out the window, bit her lip. And then finally smiled. “Okay.”

  Something inside of him melted. The porcupine would definitely have been easier to deal with than Gina’s Miss America smile.

  Delilah was dead.

  Gina wiped at the corner of her eye and gazed up at the passing skyscrapers. Let it go. You’re in Chicago, riding on top of a crowded double-decker bus, sitting next to an annoying nuisance who is being incredibly kind and hasn’t told a joke for at least an hour.

  “Are you cold?” Brady asked her.

  “A little.” She crossed her arms and willed herself to stop shivering. The sun still shone from a brilliant blue sky, but despite her new sweater the breeze still felt cool from many open windows on the upper deck.

  “Put this on.” He had shrugged out of his sport coat and was holding it open for her.

  “Thanks.” She leaned forward to let him drape it over her shoulders. “You don’t need it?”

  “Nah, I was getting too warm.”

  The bus slowed to a stop and the tour guide’s voice, amplified through a loudspeaker, began describing a huge
Picasso sculpture that covered a large area of a plaza on their right.

  “Well, I’ll be switched,” Brady drawled in an exaggerated manner. “I can’t tell if that’s a horse or a cow.” He craned his neck to look around her through the window.

  “What?”

  He glanced sideways at her, his eyelids half closed. Most of those blue-green eyes hid behind thick blond lashes. “Well, the thing is,” he continued the drawl, “you know you’re from the Midwest if you can tell a horse from a cow at a distance. And gosh durn it, in this case I can’t tell.”

  He sounded absolutely pathetic. She burst out laughing.

  “And I’m about as Midwestern as they come. Born and raised on a farm.”

  She wiped her eyes again. At least the tears were caused by laughter this time. He was helping, bizarre as that thought would have sounded this morning.

  When he found her in Marshall Field’s, she had just read the news about Delilah. Of course the elephant’s death hadn’t been a surprise, but all the same, knowing that it had happened grieved her. If Brady hadn’t walked up at that moment, she didn’t know what she would have done. Probably bawled until an employee intervened and called security.

  He had saved her from that embarrassment, but she couldn’t think straight. Brady offered a plan, and it was as if he threw her a lifeline. Instinctively, she grabbed hold.

  He waited while she stopped in the ladies’ room to splash water on her face and assess the damage. Her face was a wreck. She popped open the barrette at the back of her neck and brushed back the loose strands of hair. Good thing she hadn’t applied mascara this morning. She blew her nose one more time, found eyeshadow and a compact in her purse, and fixed what she could, all the while imagining what this news meant.

  Delilah’s death would have an impact on the lawsuit, but there was nothing to be done about it except fret. Better to go with the flow and take a bus ride. Her attorney and other vets were in control now. She had to put it out of her mind.