by Renee Ryan
“Why would anyone want to pay money to spend the day with a glorified mutt,” he wondered out loud, looking down the rather long line of handwritten bids. He zeroed in on the most recent number recorded. “Would you look at that, someone bid eight hundred dollars. That’s insane.”
“Shh.” Hailey looked over her shoulder with a horrified expression on her face. “Somebody might hear you.”
“Did you just shush me?” he asked, trying not to laugh. “Over a dog named U-G-A?”
She swung back around to glare at him. “Don’t you dare make fun of my favorite bulldog.” She actually sounded offended. “And, for your information, his name is pronounced Ugh-ah.”
Apparently, it was up to Wolf to give the woman a reality check. All that oxygen-deprived air in the plane must have left her a little loopy. “He’s a dog, Hailey.”
“You might want to take note, Captain Wolfson. People around here take their college football very seriously. And their mascots.”
“Let me guess,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “You went to the University of Georgia and now have an unhealthy fondness for smushed-faced dogs.”
“Smushed-faced dogs?” Head high, she yanked a pen out of her purse. Keeping her eyes glued to his, she scribbled down a bid.
He leaned over and read the outrageous amount. “And you think I’m crazy for jumping out of airplanes?”
“It’s for a good cause.”
He said nothing, mainly because he liked her all worked up like this. Not that he’d tell her so. He wanted to get out of here in one piece.
Giving in to a smile, Wolf took in the room with a quick swoop. “So this is how you used to raise money for all your causes? Pawning off stuff to the rich folks of Savannah?”
She didn’t answer right away, but instead looked around the room as he had done, perhaps trying to see the situation from his perspective. “A silent auction might seem like an odd way to raise money.” She lowered her voice. “But some people will only give to a charity if they’re getting something in return.”
Yeah, he’d already figured that one out on his own. “What percentage of the night’s take goes to the kids?”
She blew a tendril of hair away from her face. “All the items are donated, Wolf. The foundation gets a hundred percent of the proceeds.”
Well, that was something at least.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” she said. “This isn’t a Christian organization, but the people in attendance do care about their community.”
She linked her arm through his and steered him out of the room before he could respond. “Come on, let’s go take a look at the gardens. They’re beautiful this time of year.”
He chuckled at her transparent attempt to change the subject. “Smooth, Hailey. Very smooth.”
“The money from the auction is only a portion of what we’ll raise tonight,” she said, once they left the room.
“How else will you get funding?”
She slid a glance at him from beneath her lowered lashes. “We place a stack of envelopes at every table.”
“Envelopes?” He had no idea what that meant. “For what?”
“After the presentation the chairman of the board will get up and ask everyone to consider giving a donation directly to the foundation.”
Wolf rubbed a finger over his temple, trying to relinquish the pressure of the headache building behind his eyes. The people were here, like Hailey said, and they were providing money for a good cause, yet something about the evening felt off. He couldn’t figure out what.
“Wolf. No matter why the checks are written, the important point is the children win out in the end.”
Okay, she had a point. A valid one. “Speaking of which, where are the kids?”
She stopped walking and stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen a single kid here tonight. Why not?” When he was young he would have given anything for the kind of meal they were going to serve later.
“The children can’t be here tonight. It wouldn’t be…it wouldn’t be…” She looked at him helplessly. “Well, it wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Why not?”
She gave him a shrug. But something in the gesture increased the tension in him. “Oh, I get it. They aren’t good enough for this crowd.” Just like he hadn’t been good enough when he’d been a kid.
“No.” Her hand practically clawed at his arm. “That’s not what I meant at all. This entire evening is about the children, and the rec center we’re going to build for them with the money we raise.”
“Have you met any of the kids yourself?”
“Well, no.” She dropped her head. “But I—”
He didn’t wait for the rest. So this was the old Hailey. No wonder she’d been so determined to change. But had she really? She hadn’t even met the kids she was supposed to be helping. He picked up his pace, not wanting to continue this discussion.
Hailey followed hard on his heels. She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward a door leading to an outdoor balcony.
The cold slapped him in the face, but she kept dragging him across the marble stones. Click, click, click, her heels struck like hammers to nails.
She stopped abruptly. The night closed in around them, like a phantom. The club’s outdoor lighting provided just enough light for Wolf to see Hailey’s troubled expression.
“Wolf, try to understand. This isn’t a Christian organization.”
“You said that already.”
She started to say more but then shivered from the cold.
He unbuttoned his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. They stared at one another for a long, tense moment. She looked so tiny inside his jacket. Lost.
But was he looking at the old Hailey, or the new one? He hated that he didn’t know for sure.
Ever since he’d walked into this place he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the life he’d lived as a child, how instead of writing checks for good causes his father had been too busy looking for his next drink. Wolf, like many inner-city kids, had alternated between scrapping for food and dodging his father’s fist.
“After tonight,” he said, “the people here will go back to their cozy existence where the most important problem they have to face is the thread count in their bedsheets.”
He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t untangle the ball of tension in his gut. “They don’t understand the despair that comes from wondering if there’s going to be a meal tomorrow.”
Not like Wolf understood it. Terrible memories bombarded him. Once, when his dad had gone on a month-long bender, Wolf had survived solely on the free lunches he’d gotten at school. The weekends had been nightmarish, but he’d lived through them.
In the end, the Army had been his ticket out.
But not every kid could take that route.
Something has to be done for the rest. The thought was so clear in his head he wondered where it had come from.
“Oh, Wolf.” Hailey shifted closer to him. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you ever since we met.”
“Come again?”
“Don’t get me wrong, these types of functions serve a purpose. But you’re right. Many of the people in there are just like you described. And for the last twenty-five years of my life, I was one of them.”
He heard the familiar sorrow in her voice, but tonight it sounded more like guilt than regret.
“I never got my hands dirty, Wolf, because no one ever taught me how.”
“That’s your excuse?”
“No. Not an excuse. An explanation of who I used to be. But everything changed for me when Clay died. He’d been planting seeds for months prior to the day of the bombing. His death gave me the final push.”
Wolf admired the courage it must have taken Hailey to take that hard look at her life. But her role model had been a hardened soldier stuck in a war zone. If only Wolf could see what Clay had put in his e-mails he might have a better idea how
to proceed.
“I don’t want to be insulated anymore.” Hailey wrapped his coat tighter around her shoulders. “I want to get to know the people I serve, personally. I want to live with them, cry with them, find joy and hope with them. I did a little of that in Jamaica. It’s what I hope to do in Haiti and ultimately in the Middle East.”
Admirable, yes, but again Wolf was struck with the notion that Hailey was still living with blinders on, unable to see the need right next to her. “You don’t have to go to the Middle East to do what you just described.”
“It’s where Clay went.”
Yep, now he knew for certain. Her perspective was skewed. “Your brother was sent to the Middle East. Stop romanticizing what he did over there. He was a soldier who lived in a war zone, and all that that implies. People are killed on a daily basis. Some are even tortured in brutal, unimaginable ways.”
“Exactly.” Her conviction all but radiated out of her. “There are innocent people who live in those war zones. People who aren’t trained soldiers. Somebody has to care about them. Somebody has to show them the love of Christ. And that somebody is going to be me.”
“How do you know it’s supposed to be you?”
“I just do.”
“That’s not good enough. I want to hear specifics.”
She fell silent, and then sank onto a wrought-iron bench.
Wolf sat down next to her and took her hand gently in his. “Don’t you think I’ve been paying attention at our survival classes?”
She slid a glance in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your friends have taught me as much as I’ve taught them, maybe more. A person doesn’t go on a mission trip to prove a point. She goes because she’s called.”
“I was called.” She snatched her hand free. “To the Middle East.”
Maybe she had been. Maybe. “Tell me the moment you knew for sure.”
She climbed hastily to her feet, spun around and then clutched at the railing behind her. “When Clay died.”
As though a light turned on in his head, Wolf knew exactly what he had to do next. He had to introduce Hailey to local people in need right here in Savannah.
If, after that, Hailey still believed she’d been called to the Middle East, then Wolf wouldn’t stand in her way.
Not that he’d let her go over there unprepared. He’d do what he could to protect her, even if it required him climbing on that airplane with her. It would mean a complete change in his own lifestyle, but if that’s what it took to keep her safe, then he’d do it.
Of course, there were a lot of “ifs” that still needed to be settled before life-altering decisions had to be made.
Wolf rose and joined her at the railing, stunned that he was actually thinking about giving up. No, not giving up, getting more information for them both. “What are you doing Wednesday morning?”
“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled.” Her brows lifted in inquiry. “Why?”
“I want to take you somewhere that might benefit us both.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“Not on Wednesday.” He’d already scheduled the day off in the hopes of finishing his move into the town house. Now he had a different plan in mind. “I’ll pick you up at 0900.”
“Where are you planning to take me?”
“Someplace where you can get your hands dirty.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wolf found J.T. sitting alone in his office. The pastor was bent over a stack of papers, completely absorbed in his work.
Leaning against the doorjamb, Wolf waited a few beats then broke the silence. “Want to grab some lunch?”
J.T. didn’t bother looking up. “I was wondering how long you were going to stand there staring at me.”
“You knew I was here?”
Head still bent, J.T. flashed a quick smile. “You’re not exactly light on your feet, soldier.”
Wolf chuckled. “I’ll file that information away for later.”
J.T. joined in the laughter. After a moment, he tossed his pen aside and leaned back in his chair, his smile still holding. “Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
Wolf hesitated. He hadn’t planned to have this conversation here, in the church, but J.T. must have countless resources a mouse click away in his computer. It made sense to take his friend up on his offer. Except…
J.T. might misunderstand this visit, thinking Wolf had come for guidance rather than a simple list of homeless shelters and soup kitchens.
Feeling mildly uncomfortable, Wolf lowered himself into one of the two chairs facing J.T.’s desk. His gaze landed on a free-standing marble plaque that looked like a generic paperweight at first glance.
He read aloud the Scripture etched in black calligraphy. “I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying the Gospel of God’s grace. Acts 20:24.”
“The senior pastor gave that to me on my first day here,” J.T. explained. “It helps me remember that I’m investing my life in the only thing that matters, in a legacy that will live on after I’m gone.”
Wolf remained silent, holding perfectly still, moving only the tip of his finger across the bold lettering.
He reread the Scripture, trying to comprehend the meaning behind J.T.’s bold remark. “Do you mean spreading the Gospel?”
“Roger that.” J.T. steepled his fingers under his chin and stared at Wolf with a satisfied light in his eyes. “You’ve come a long way since the first time we met.”
Wolf rubbed his leg absently. He supposed he had, from a certain perspective. There wasn’t as much anger in him, nor as much despair. The Dream wasn’t coming as often, either. He knew he owed much of his healing to Hailey. In their short acquaintance, she’d softened his hard edges and made him want to be a better man.
That wasn’t to say Wolf didn’t still feel lost at times. And confused. “I have a long way to go.”
“We all do,” J.T. agreed.
The certainty in the pastor’s voice surprised Wolf. “Even you?”
“Especially me.” J.T. stared off into space then gave his head a quick shake. “So, what brought on this sudden offer of lunch? You doing okay, adjusting to life back in the States?”
“I’m getting there.”
Now why had he admitted that? Why hadn’t he told J.T. to mind his own business? Like he had every other time the guy had probed too far into his mental state.
Fingers still braced under his chin, J.T. eyed Wolf with a look that was filled with concern yet also held deep understanding. “What can I do to help you, Captain?”
Wolf’s gaze darted around the room. The use of his rank was a clear sign of respect on J.T’s part, a reminder that they shared a common bond. “Wolf?”
He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair, still not looking directly at J.T. This wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go. Wolf had come here to get a list of local homeless shelters. Nothing more.
You could have done that over the phone, he told himself. Or e-mail.
But he hadn’t. He’d sought out J.T. personally, and not just to get the list. He realized that now. Somewhere along the way Wolf had grown to trust J.T., as both a friend and a pastor.
Man up, Wolf. Tell the guy what’s really going on.
“Hailey thinks I need to forgive myself for my men’s deaths,” he blurted out. “She says the bombing wasn’t my fault.”
As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, he wanted to take them back. But it was too late. The truth was out there, hanging in the room like a heavy, invisible shroud of gloom.
To his credit, J.T. didn’t react. He simply continued sitting in his chair, cool, calm, completely laid-back. Oddly enough, the guy’s casual posture had Wolf relaxing, too.
“What do you think? Do you agree with her?” J.T. asked.
“I…” He paused to consider the question and not just
answer off the top of his head. “I want to agree with her, but I don’t know if I can. The guilt.” He squeezed his eyes shut a moment. “Sometimes, it’s too much to bear.”
A series of creaks and groans filled the air as J.T. shifted in his chair. The pastor no longer looked calm, but very, very intense. “Yet, you’re here now. Talking to me. That’s a good thing.”
Wolf wasn’t so sure.
J.T. leaned closer, just a fraction more, but enough to make Wolf sit up straighter. “Tell me why you sought me out today.”
Wolf rubbed a hand over his face. “Because I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of shouldering this burden alone.”
“Good.” J.T. nodded. “That’s the first step, admitting the problem.”
Wolf should feel pressured. Uncomfortable. He didn’t feel either. Instead, he experienced a strange sense of peace now that he’d shared his concerns. “What do I do next?”
J.T. sat back, assuming his casual pose once again. “I’m afraid there’s no magic formula. You’re already serving here at the church. You’re making a difference with a lot of people. That’s a start.”
J.T.’s words confused him. “I’m just teaching survival skills.”
“Your classes are serving a purpose for the Kingdom. Keep teaching them.”
“That’s all?” It didn’t seem enough.
“No. Serving is just the beginning. You might also want to spend time in prayer, read the Word, seek counsel from other Christians.” J.T. leaned forward. “But, Wolf, nothing will help until you give this up to the Lord. Healing starts with surrender.”
Surrender. Wolf balked at the concept. It went against everything he knew as a soldier. But maybe J.T. was right. Maybe he had to give this up to God, rather than agonize over details he couldn’t control. The problem was, handling details was what he did best.
Look where that’s gotten you.
Wolf shuddered at the thought.
“I want you to listen to me, Captain.” J.T. captured Wolf’s gaze with an unyielding glare. “We live in a fallen world. Life here on earth is messy.”
