by Mae Nunn
“So sorry,” she whispered.
“I’ll lecture you about this another time,” Ali warned, assuming the role of the troubled-kid magnet she’d always been. “Right now let’s get you untangled and down from here.”
“No!” Hannah insisted. “Help me to the top or I’ll be off the team. Please, Rock,” she pleaded.
Ali glanced at her watch. The record time she’d hoped to set had passed ninety seconds ago. She heaved a sigh. No reason to hurry now.
She made quick work with Hannah’s snarled rope and gave thumbs up to her belayer who returned the gesture. The spectators and teams on the ground applauded but sounds of disappointed murmuring floated upward as they assumed the ascent was over.
“Pride can get people killed, Hannah. Promise me you’ll confide in your captain and make this right with your team.”
“I promise.” Her voice was shaky but strong, her eyes wide with sincerity.
“Alrighty, then.” Ali gave the girl a smile of encouragement. “Let’s not waste this perfectly good adrenaline rush.”
“Climb ready?” the two chorused.
“Climb on!”
The women resumed their upward motion and the small crowd below them erupted in cheers that continued until they planted their team flags at the summit.
“Dad!” Ethan threw his arms around Ben’s neck for the first time in years. “Is Ali the coolest lady ever, or what?”
Unwilling to spoil the spontaneous moment, Ben remained passive, only giving Ethan a light pat on his back. The boy returned to excited clapping and cheering while Ben savored the normalcy of his son’s behavior. It had to be further confirmation they’d be okay, that Ethan could weather whatever storms lay ahead.
“Why do you think she did that?” His eyes were wide and engaging as he waited for a response.
“Good question, son. What’s your guess?”
Ethan, puzzled over the notion, then surprised Ben with a thoughtful answer. “Ali takes care of people. If she was OCD she’d be a compulsive helper.”
“That’s a perfect observation,” Ben smiled his agreement, wondering if anybody would say the same of him. He was known as a “good guy,” but a compulsive helper, probably not. The realization was a small hammer that began chipping away at his self-image. “I think Ali simply loves others more than she loves herself.”
“Yep. And it’s okay if we love her back, Dad.”
A fresh gust of wind caught the tail of Ben’s yellow slicker and slung clinging raindrops across his face, like chilly punctuation to Ethan’s comment.
As the boy regularly noted, he was ill but not stupid.
“That’s a very grown-up thing to say. Are you sure about that?” Ben’s question was hopeful on many levels.
Ethan nodded. “Ali helped me see that feeling guilty about the past won’t change what happened, and holding on to sad feelings might keep me from getting better. I promise to try harder, Dad. I want you to like me again.”
“I love you, son.” Ben fought to hold a powerful surge of emotions in check. Change of any kind had to come in very small doses with Ethan. A journey of a thousand miles began the same as a hundred-yard dash—one step at a time. Ethan had made the mental connection and the verbal commitment. With God’s help the rest would follow.
“What are you two looking so serious about? Come down here and help us celebrate!”
The solemn look passing between father and son turned to joy at the sound of Ali’s voice. As it had for weeks, her arrival made their happiness and their circle complete. The bleachers thundered beneath their feet until they reached the ground. Ben refused to hold back any longer. Words of love were out of the question in this public place, so he pulled her close, pressed her ear to his chest and let the beat of his heart speak for him.
She gave him a mighty squeeze and tilted her damp head up so their eyes could meet.
“Ali, what you did up there was one of the most unselfish acts I’ve ever witnessed on any playing field.”
“Oh, you would have done the same thing.”
“I don’t think so.” He chuckled. “In my sport that would amount to giving possession of a fumbled ball back to the opposing quarterback and then escorting him into the end zone.”
“Okay, maybe not.” She laughed, a husky sound that never failed to make his pulse quicken. “What’d you think about all that?” She looked to Ethan.
“I think you were awesome and I want to try to climb the rope that dumped you on your tail end.”
“Oh, don’t remind me.” She rubbed her backside. “My hardest fall of the day. I’m sure I knocked a couple of crowns loose when I hit that landing mat soaked with rain.”
“Yeah, you should have seen how high the water flew up in the air. You’re so heavy it looked like you did a cannonball.”
Ali’s exaggerated look of insult made Ethan give her a brief side squeeze before stepping away. Ben winked when she caught his eye. There was so much he wanted to tell her once they could be alone. And this time he wouldn’t let her give him the brush off.
“Ethan, if you really want to try the rope climb we’ll get you into a harness and you can give it a go.” She turned to Ben. “You’re gonna spot for him, okay?”
“I’ll do my best if the Rock will agree to coach me and stick to us like glue.”
“It’s a deal.”
Thirty minutes later Ethan had traded his yellow rain suit for a safety helmet and rigging. One of the rope specialists was giving final pointers. Ben hadn’t felt such trepidation for his son since the day they took the training wheels off his bike and he promptly rode down the driveway, across the street and collided with the neighbor’s Porsche. But Ali was close by with all the guidance they both needed. She wouldn’t let them do anything dangerous.
“Excuse me, Mr. Lamar.”
“Yes,” Ben turned toward a young man with an expensive camera slung around his neck.
“I heard you’re going to be running for Congress. I’m with the Young Republicans and it would be a coup to get this photo of you and your son up on my blog today. Would you mind, sir?”
The kid was nice enough to ask but such courtesy would be rare in the future. Ben had always been fair game for the press. Now, anytime he took Ethan out in public he’d be in the spotlight too.
Ben glanced toward Ali.
There was neither judgment nor encouragement on her face. She brought her shoulders to her ears, indicating it wasn’t her decision to make.
A shrill beeping turned more heads her way.
“That’s a 911 from dispatch. I’ve gotta go.” She did a three hundred and sixty-degree pivot, obviously searching for her teammates.
“Wait!” Ethan cried. His face contorted, his eyes fearful, his alarm as real as it had been on the day Ben foolishly left his son at the camp in Big Bend. The outcome had been nearly disastrous and Ben’s gut clenched at the reminder.
“I have to go. You two will be fine by yourselves.”
“But you promised!”
“I promised to keep my end of the agreement and I have. Now you have to do your part, Ethan.
Her cell phone screeched again, she turned away.
“Ali, please.” Ben needed her to stay, to see this effort through with Ethan who’d worked so hard all day, was making such incredible progress. Whether she would admit it or not, the three of them were becoming a family. “There are at least a hundred other rescue professionals out here today. Send somebody else. We can’t do this without you.”
She stepped close to keep their conversation private from the young reporter.
“I’m honored you feel so strongly, but it’s simply not true. You and Ethan are father and son. It’s time you started trusting one another instead of leaning on somebody else. You have big plans, places to go, things to do together and people wanting to take your picture. I’d say today is as good a day as any to get started.”
She planted a quick smack on Ben’s cheek and when she stepped back
her eyes gleamed with that secret pain he’d seen a number of times before. Could it be that Ali’s matter-of-fact words were as much to convince herself as they were to encourage Ben?
Without giving him the time to find out, she reached toward Ethan.
“You’ll do great,” she insisted. She wrapped her knuckles on his safety helmet. “Knock on wood!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ali had been a rescue volunteer for six years, never second-guessing her priorities. During today’s mission she gave one hundred percent of her physical ability, as always. But every little bit of her heart was somewhere else.
She’d warned Hannah that pride could cost lives, then turned around and drew on the same deadly sin.
Benjamin was right, someone else could have taken the call. But Ali was bent on making a point, if only to herself. She didn’t belong in their lives—not on the personal level that seemed to be snowballing out of control. Benjamin and Ethan had to accept the truth and the sooner the better.
Ali was not in their league.
She wasn’t self-deprecating; she just knew the facts. She could never have outrun her past so she’d used it instead to draw survivor strength. It made her a woman so certain of her convictions her friends called her the Rock.
But certainty wasn’t always a good thing—in fact, this time it was tragic since she was certain she could never fit in with Ben’s family or his plans. Her sense of decency would force her to confess her story and then he would look at her with disgust, agreeing it was best that she turn away before the tarnish on her past tainted his future.
As Ali drove the last mile to her home, the day’s events replayed in her mind like an old-fashioned news reel. The excited faces of Ben and Ethan, the team’s cheers during her muddy relay, Hannah’s gratitude, the thankful smile of the accident victim during her airlift to the medical center.
God had been good. He’d given Ali more than she dreamed of, definitely more than she deserved. In response she found ways to bless her Sunday Kids, those who the Bible would call “the least of these.”
Her life was full, she didn’t dare want for more.
Ali pulled the Land Rover through the small alley behind her townhouse complex and into her narrow, one-vehicle garage. She popped the back hatch, let Simba free from her travel crate and together they took the network of pathways to the local park for a short walk. Ali longed for a hot shower to remove the grit and grime that still clung to her skin. Then afterward she’d sit and talk with Josie. The two had reversed roles in recent days, with the young nursing student giving the doctor guidance counseling.
“Ali, wait up!”
She whipped about face to see Benjamin striding toward her, reminding her so much of the first day they’d met. What had only been a few weeks seemed like a lifetime. She felt more comfortable about the man as a candidate and her opinion of him as a parent had certainly changed. They’d come from such different worlds, but the world seemed a much smaller place now that she loved him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to pry her tired gaze from the picture he made: clean, dry, well dressed and as handsome as the Texas summer sky is high. From the crown of his sandy blond head to the leather soles of his expensive cowboy boots his demeanor promised “Vote for me. You won’t be sorry!”
“I’m here to invite you to come home with us for dinner. We want to celebrate what God’s done in our lives today.”
“Tell me how Ethan did.” While Simba sniffed about and stretched her legs Ali eased down to one of the slatted wooden benches to rest. When she swept an open hand toward the empty half of the bench, Benjamin joined her.
“My kid was amazing.” He beamed with pride for his son.
Thank you, Father, for showing me how much this man loves his boy. It makes it so much clearer that I need to move on so they can get back to their own lives.
“Ali, I wish you’d been there to see how hard he worked to get up that rope.”
“Did he make it?”
“Only about eight feet and even at that it took him a dozen times to get there.” Benjamin’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he recalled the image. “Ethan has a new appreciation for how hard your backside smacked that mat when you fell. I don’t think he’ll be making any more cannonball comments since he sent up more than a few sprays of water himself.”
“And how about you, Dad? How long did it take to get over your case of nerves? I thought you were going to have a hissy fit when I had to leave.”
The smile slipped off Benjamin’s face. His temple throbbed as his jaw clenched to contain a thought that seemed to want out. Clearly she’d hit a raw nerve.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” she encouraged him.
For a few moments he dipped his chin, then raised it again. An icy stare sliced the space between them, cut through her reserve.
“Are you asking as a doctor or a woman?”
“Whichever you prefer.”
Ben’s gut was sore from holding back emotion. For years he’d kept his feelings in check. He was calm for Theresa’s sake when Ethan had been diagnosed. Then he was strong for Ethan when his mother had died. Since that time he’d remained steadfast and positive, certain God still had a plan for their lives, to give them a future and a hope. Ben was determined to wait on the Lord’s timing even when his best friend cajoled, pestered and threatened. He’d wanted to cry out a thousand times at injustice, loss and insinuation but he’d kept it all inside. There were so many blessings in his life, he had no right to complain.
But now, to have the woman whose rejection that very morning was still fresh equate his agitation with a hissy fit, well that was simply more than a man should be expected to endure.
“Ali, I came here with the best of intentions. I meant to tell you what a wonderful day we had and to thank you for helping us move beyond the relational mess that had built up in our home.”
“However…” She waited.
“However…” He paused, lowered his head to glance at his hands as they dangled between his knees. He should stop and pray, get his racing pulse under control, but the emotion wanted a voice, wouldn’t wait another moment. He looked up.
“However, I’m really struggling with the fact that the woman I love will give so much of herself to others, to people who don’t deserve her gifts, people who can’t repay her kindness, people who will never be more than a drain on society. But she won’t go into the emotional deep end with me. I just don’t get it and I don’t know how to deal with it.” His inflection mirrored his mounting frustration.
Simba heard, stopped her sniffing and poking. She trotted over, stood next to his knee, closer than she’d ever been. She settled on her haunches at his feet, watching with the intensity that only another dog could possibly understand.
Ali’s face was equally impassive, unreadable. Did she care at all? Had he gone too far or not far enough?
“Benjamin, I’m a bit confused because I don’t know these people you refer to as drains on society. How about giving me a clue.”
Guide my words, Lord. I have a feeling she’s not going to take this well, but I need to get all the cards on the table.
“I saw you last Sunday.” He hesitated, but knew he had to say the rest. “It was just for a few minutes. In the woods at Halfway Landing.”
She leaned away as if she needed to put distance between them. “You followed me?” her voice was incredulous.
“No, that’s not how it happened.” He shook his head and held his palms outward to emphasize his innocence. “I met the folks from Lend a Hand out there to talk about some cooperation between their foundation and my campaign to help clean up that area. I wanted to see it firsthand, but I was warned about the no-accounts that hang out and leave a mess in the woods. I expected to find transients and undesirables.” He lifted both shoulders, lost for words. “But you, Ali? Why would you hang out with the very people who burden the city for tax dollars we can’t afford and shouldn’t need to s
pend? Why would you associate with such trash?”
The rush to judgment he’d meant to avoid went straight from his lips out into the world without benefit of first filtering through his good sense. The sound echoed in his ears about the same time Ali reacted to it. A sad smile curved her soft lips, she closed her eyes briefly, shook her head.
He knew that reaction. It was the spoken-just-like-a-stupid-man gesture. His goose was as good as cooked and any moment now she’d skewer him. But instead of unleashing fury, she seemed to accept his comment like an accurate indictment.
“Those ‘undesirables’ are some of my pro bono clients from the homeless shelter. They would never get therapy otherwise. I call them my Sunday Kids because that’s the only day of the week we get to spend time together.”
He sucked in a breath, wishing it was as easy to suck back in the accusation. He’d known in his heart of hearts there was a reasonable answer, but she’d been so secretive.
“Are you trying to get them to go back to their parents where they belong?”
She laughed at the suggestion. The sort of brittle, nervous response a person has when they get a terminal diagnosis.
“Benjamin, being with a parent is not always the best place for a child. Those kids share a common experience that no one should have to endure.”
“Physical abuse?”
“Worse.” She breathed in deeply as if preparing for a revelation. “The worst, actually. Sexual abuse by a parent.”
He flinched at the most perverse of behaviors, always having hoped there was a fiery reserved section in eternity for people who would injure a child, with a special hot seat for sexual predators.
“I’m sorry. I’d never have guessed.”
“Most people wouldn’t because they don’t think twisted thoughts.” Ali’s chin dipped as she stared at her muddy boots. “It’s the deepest, filthiest pit to climb out of for the few of us who make it.”
“Don’t you mean the few of them?”
“No. I mean us.” Amber eyes sought his. “You called them trash and many would agree. They’re disposable, throw-away kids who’ve been used and forgotten. I spend my Sundays with them because I relate to what they couldn’t escape, can’t forget. I’m one of them, Benjamin.”
