The Chance: A Novel

by Karen Kingsbury

  “A long time ago.” Ryan couldn’t say too much.

  Nolan flexed the muscle in his jaw, and again he seemed to struggle to find his next words. “What made you ask?”

  Since Gunner and his parents weren’t back yet, Ryan shared what he could. “You mentioned the girl, the one you were going to marry. She moved to San Diego with her dad when she was fifteen.”

  “Caroline told you about that?” His eyes looked sad. The shock seemed to make its way from his mind to his heart.

  Suddenly Ryan remembered the basketball detail. “She told me her daughter had to leave with almost no notice . . . and that she left behind her friend, a high school basketball player.”

  “She didn’t mention my name?”

  “No.” Ryan pictured Caroline sitting across from him at the coffee shop, the way she had hesitated at that part of the story. “The girl you were going to marry . . . is her name Ellie?”

  Slowly, gradually, tears appeared in Nolan’s eyes. He massaged his temples with his forefinger and thumb. Then he sat straighter, his determination evident in every movement. He dropped his hands to the table and nodded. “Yes. Ellie Tucker.”

  Ryan felt for the guy. Nolan hadn’t moved on. He might’ve been only fifteen back then, but Nolan obviously cared for her still. “I’m sorry. I had to say something.”

  “Thank you.” Nolan glanced toward the restroom. Gunner and his parents were still nowhere in sight. “Has her mother heard from her?”

  “No. She’s sent letters—one a week, I guess. But she hasn’t heard anything.”

  Nolan absorbed the blow. “She doesn’t want to be found. I’ve tried everything.” He closed his eyes briefly. “So what’s it mean?” He looked at Ryan. “You talked to her mom last week? Why would God put us together?”

  “From the minute I went on tour, I felt the Lord was up to something.” Ryan looked at Molly. She knew better than anyone how strong the feeling had been. He turned to Nolan again. “Maybe this is it.”

  “I have to think it through.” Nolan tapped his fingers on the table, his eyes narrowed, moving from one spot to another, as if trying to see through the thickest fog. “Caroline wants to see her, right?’

  “Desperately. We prayed about it, that they would find each other . . . that God would bring healing.”

  The news sparked something in Nolan. “She talked about her faith?”

  Ryan felt tenderness in his smile. “Very much. She’s raising her son by herself and praying for her daughter. She hasn’t heard from Ellie or her husband since they moved.”

  “So Caroline’s not married.”

  Again Ryan was careful. Nolan was close to figuring out information that Ryan wasn’t privy to share. “She’s a single mom.”

  “Hmm.” Nolan looked off, lost in thought again. “I have to find her. For me and for her mom.”

  Ryan didn’t say anything. Molly reached for his fingers, and the two of them were quiet. Gunner and his parents were taking a long time. The boy mustn’t feel well. “Well . . . let’s pray. For Caroline and Ellie.” He looked toward the restroom. “And Gunner.”

  “Yes.” Nolan Cook raked his fingers through his hair. He looked like nothing more than a college kid trying to figure out life. He bowed his head. “Ryan . . . please.”

  Ryan breathed deep and held tighter to Molly’s hand. Then for the second time that week, he prayed for a young woman he’d never met, and that the two people who missed her so much would find her soon. And he prayed for Gunner, that memories of this day would get him through whatever was ahead. “We pray believing . . . we pray trusting. Thank you, God. In the powerful name of Jesus, amen.”

  When he opened his eyes, Gunner and his family stood close by. Gunner’s dad had his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “We need to go.”

  “Guess what?” Gunner looked pale, his cheeks sunken even as his eyes sparkled. “That’s exactly what happened. What you prayed about. I was sick in the bathroom, and all of a sudden I remembered playing that game with Nolan.” He stopped and grinned at his basketball hero. “And I didn’t feel sick!”

  Ryan smiled. “Prayer is powerful.” He looked at Nolan. “Maybe that’s what God wants us to remember after today.”

  “Definitely.” Nolan held his gaze for a few seconds. He stood and went to Gunner and hugged him one last time. While the boy was in his arms, Nolan peered at him and then Ryan. “Our mighty God still hears us . . . and He still answers prayers.”

  Ryan and Molly waited until after Gunner was gone before turning to Nolan. “We should probably go, too.”

  “Wait.” Nolan looked from Ryan to Molly and back. “You didn’t tell me your story.”

  “Oh, that . . .” Ryan laughed lightly and looked at Molly. “Molly and I were very close when we were younger. We hung out at a bookstore called The Bridge, but then Molly moved away and we lost touch. It wasn’t until something crazy and nearly tragic happened to the old bookstore owner that we wound up in the same place again.”

  “I knew the minute I saw him. Like no time had passed.” Molly tilted her head, her voice pensive. “If there’s ever a reason you and Ellie might wind up in the same place at the same time . . . be there. Don’t miss it.” She slipped her arm around Ryan’s waist and kissed his cheek. “That’s my advice.”

  “Yes.” Ryan turned to Nolan. “Don’t miss the chance.”

  Long after they said their good-byes and reached the car, Ryan still thought about it, replaying the impossibility of the connection. “God’s doing something big. I’m absolutely sure.”

  “Mmm.” Molly watched him from the passenger seat. “Wouldn’t it be something? Healing and restoration, brought about by God because you took this tour? Because you talked to Peyton?” She smiled. “I’m proud of you for contacting Caroline Tucker, for putting it together tonight. You’re showing everyone what Romans 8:28 looks like.”

  Ryan smiled. “ ‘All things work to the good for those who love God.’ ”

  “Exactly.”

  A reverent quiet fell over them the rest of the short ride back to the hotel. Were they front row to what could be a miracle? Healing from brokenness? Whatever God was up to, Ryan had the feeling as they drove down Jefferson Street that they were no longer in their old SUV, no longer participants in any ordinary moment.

  They were on holy ground.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nolan was the last one to leave Philips Arena. He found the spot—left side, three-point line—and sank the shot on the first try. For you, Dad. Make sure he knows, okay, God? He grabbed his bag and headed for his car. The day had been emotional enough, with Gunner’s visit and the Hawks’ comeback win. The way the team rallied around the sick little boy.

  But the rest of the night was nothing short of a miracle. What if Molly hadn’t come along for the visit? What if her husband had been on the road tonight? How was it possible the man had been chatting with Caroline Tucker just days ago?

  Nolan drove slowly, barely aware of streets and stoplights. When he got home, he went to the hutch in his bedroom again and stared at the photograph. Nolan and Ellie, frozen in time. Her mom had written her a letter every week and never heard a single thing back. Fear sliced through him and filled his blood with adrenaline. Didn’t that terrify her? Didn’t she wonder if Ellie was even alive? He opened the cabinet and took the photo from its place on the shelf. He ran his thumb lightly over the frame, over the place where she looked back at him. “You would’ve found me, Ellie . . . I know you.”

  His heart flip-flopped inside him. It was like Ellie had disappeared completely. What if she was no longer alive? Dead from a car crash or sickness? Please, God . . . not Ellie. Please let her be alive somewhere. Help me find her. Nolan took the picture to the edge of his bed and sat down. What hadn’t he tried? He had called the base years ago, trying to find Alan Tucker. But maybe . . . maybe Ellie’s father had a new position or a new job. Maybe if Nolan made a few phone calls tomorrow, he could figure out where the man work
ed and call him. If anyone knew whether Ellie was alive, it would be her father.

  The man who had taken her away.

  Calling her dad was something he could do, something other than thinking about her and missing her and counting down the days until June first. Only five days remained now. Five days until the date that, eleven years ago, had seemed a lifetime away. Molly’s words came back to him. If there was a reason to be in the same place at the same time . . . don’t miss the chance. It was as if she could read Nolan’s deepest thoughts. He breathed in slowly, his eyes on Ellie’s. What happened to you, Ellie. . . . Why don’t you want to be found?

  He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but something deep within his being told him she was alive. Alive and hurting. A spark of concern became a sense of real and pressing alarm. He thought about Ellie often and prayed for her always. But now the urgency was different. God? Is Ellie in trouble?

  Pray, my son . . . pray without ceasing.

  The message seemed to come from a voice deep within his soul. It was too real, too profound, to ignore. Wherever she was, whatever was happening in her life, Ellie needed prayer. Nolan couldn’t wait another minute. Holding her photograph to his heart, he slid down onto his knees and bowed his head.

  For half an hour—as if his next heartbeat depended on it—Nolan did the only thing he could do.

  He prayed for Ellie Tucker.

  Twenty-nine letters into the box, Ellie wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to open the box last night, but she hadn’t slept either. This morning she had called in sick, and after taking the girls to school, she came home and started reading. Now her eyes were red and swollen, and her heart would never be the same again. On top of that, the sky had been overcast all day—the June gloom typical for the West Coast had come earlier than usual. She was home alone, Tina at work, and the girls at school. A cool breeze sifted through the open living room window.

  A shiver came over Ellie, and she wondered if she was getting sick. Maybe she would die from a broken heart. Literally too much pain all at once. Her fingers were cold and stiff, but she managed to open the next letter. The motivation to read another of her mother’s messages was too great.

  She pulled out the single piece of paper and read the date. Her mom always included the date. Almost as if, deep within, she knew Ellie wasn’t getting her letters, and that if there ever came a day when she did, that detail would be important. The way it was now.

  October 17, 2006.

  The date jumped out at Ellie and took her breath. The day before Kinzie was born. Ellie had been alone and in labor until Tina rushed home from beauty school to be with her. At the same time—the exact same time—somewhere in Savannah, her mother had been writing her a letter. Fresh tears flooded Ellie’s heart and spilled into her eyes. She blinked a few times so she could see the words.

  Dear Ellie,

  You’re on my heart so much today. I could barely concentrate at work, hardly focus when I was reading John his bedtime story. I have to think that wherever you are, something is wrong. You’re hurting or lonely . . . like it’s a very difficult day for you. I don’t usually feel this way. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I’d give anything to know what’s happening in your life right now. To hear your voice.

  Ellie brought the paper to her face and let the tears come, let the sobs shake her body and take the air from her lungs. Mom . . . I wanted you to be there. You should’ve been there. She closed her eyes, and she was in the hospital bed again, in the throes of labor. Her body racked with pain and Tina holding her hand. And all Ellie could think, all she could do as Kinzie came into the world, was pretend that the hand she was holding wasn’t Tina’s at all.

  But her mother’s.

  If you only knew how much I wanted you there . . .

  The paper was wet with Ellie’s tears. She set it on the floor. Someday she would show the letters to Kinzie. They were all she had of her mom and the years they’d missed. She couldn’t afford to lose them. Not one of them. Especially not this one.

  Her body needed air. She breathed in and fought for clarity, for focus so she could know what to do next. How could her father have hidden them from her? Letter after letter after letter. More words of love and encouragement and desperation than any mother would usually speak to a daughter in a lifetime.

  And not one word, not one page had ever reached her.

  It was the most horrific thing her father could have done. He must have hated both of them to keep her mother’s words from her. To deny her the right to know how much her mom loved her. How much she had always loved her. Ellie held her breath, grasping for any sense of normal.

  Ellie felt sick. Sicker than she had all day. She stood, and a wave of dizziness slammed against her. She ran to the bathroom and barely made it before losing her breakfast. When her body stopped convulsing she stayed on her knees, her head in her hands. Her mother’s aching tone in the letters and her consistent declarations of love, her undying determination on every page that they would be together again. No wonder she was sick. The truth was that hard to take.

  When she was finished, when her stomach ached from the heartbreak and her mouth was sour from the awful reality, she went to the computer and Googled her mother’s name. Caroline Tucker, Savannah, Georgia. No contact information came up. Her mother probably didn’t have means for more than a cell phone.

  The letters in the other room called to her again. Never mind how sick she felt, she had to get back to them. She read another one and another one and another one after that. Gradually, the pieces of her mother’s lonely life began to come together. The letters were full of details and apologies and mentions of God and prayer. Never mind that Ellie never wrote back. Not once in any of the letters had she even hinted at feeling angry with Ellie or bitter or forgotten. She would simply wait a week, take out another piece of paper, another envelope, and try again.

  Every week . . . every month . . . for eleven years.

  In one of the letters her mom mentioned that she had celebrated her ten-year anniversary working at the new doctor’s office. Which meant that even with the time difference Ellie could make a few phone calls and probably reach her mother today. She worked at a doctor’s office in Savannah. That was the only information she needed.

  Something sad occurred to her. She could’ve called doctor’s offices in Savannah their first year in San Diego. Only she’d been fifteen back then. And until this morning, she’d believed that her mother didn’t care about her at all. Why go search for someone who didn’t want her? Until a few hours ago, Ellie’s mom had been dead to her.

  Tina came home for lunch, and Ellie brought the box to the kitchen. “Look at this.” She opened the box, and the story poured out. “She wrote all of these.”

  “Every week? He hid your mother’s letters to you all those years?” Tina quickly grew angry. She didn’t have a relationship with her own dad, a guy who hadn’t been in her life since she was a baby. “That’s against the law, I’m sure it is. Hiding mail? Seems like he could be arrested.”

  Ellie hadn’t considered that. For the most part, she hadn’t thought about him at all. She was better off not to. The image of him weeping as he stood against the brick wall outside Merrilou’s left her torn between hating him and pitying him. What could have possessed her father to hide these letters from her all this time? And what had changed that he would bring the box to her work yesterday?

  She pushed the thought from her mind.

  Action. That’s what she needed. A plan. Tina had to get back to work. When she was gone, Ellie took the box back to the living room. The letter on the floor called to her, the one damp with her tears. The one her mother had written the day before Kinzie was born. She read it once more and then tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. With all the pain of missing her mom, with all she’d lost over the years, Ellie couldn’t help but feel a little better. Her mother had been praying for her the day she went i
nto labor.

  No time or distance could change the bond between them.

  She bundled the other letters she’d read and set them on top of the mass of envelopes in the box. It would go in the hall closet for now. Kinzie was very perceptive and if she saw a collection of hundreds of letters, she would have another full day of questions.

  Questions Ellie wasn’t ready to answer.

  The box fit on the floor at the back of the closet, where it couldn’t be seen.

  That much was done, so what next? She could call around and find the doctor’s office where her mother worked. But the idea felt wrong. Anticlimactic. Her mother had loved her so well for so long, she deserved to hear from Ellie in person. Yes, that was it. She would go to Savannah. A plan took shape quickly and gave her a break from the tears. She hurried to the computer. Her eyes stung, and her head pounded, but she didn’t care.

  She would call Merrilou’s tomorrow and tell the owner she needed two weeks. She hadn’t taken more than a couple of days’ vacation since she was hired. Whether they paid her or not, she needed the time. This was a family emergency. She searched the map once more, planning how far she would get the first day.

  She would take the I-8 east to Arizona, and connect with Interstate 10 all the way to Las Cruces, New Mexico, before getting a hotel. A ten-hour drive. That would be easy, knowing what she knew now. The day after she would reach the I-20 and take it to Dallas, and on the third day, she would stop in Birmingham. That would leave seven hours before she reached Savannah.

  Before she was home.

  She would find her mom easily, because she had her address. None of this stalking her just outside work, the way her father had done. Ellie printed out the directions and closed Google. Her mind was made up.

  She would talk to Kinzie tonight while the two of them packed. Very early tomorrow morning they would set out and be halfway to Phoenix before she called to say she wasn’t coming in to work. It would be an adventure. Kinzie would think a road trip was the best thing since going to church. They would pack light—a couple of duffel bags full of clothes, some basic toiletries, and the letter.