He turned to Isaiah 40. “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” Caitlin had certainly followed that command, he thought with a sad smile. He read on until he came to Isaiah 41. “I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I called you. I said, ‘You are my servant;’ I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
He laid his head on the high back of his computer chair, letting the words become a part of him. Called, chosen. Not rejected.
He had been here before, he thought. In the hospital. That last night he had been with Caitlin. He remembered his broken dreams. Words and snatches came back to him now. My son, give me your heart, he remembered.
He had hesitated then. To give one’s heart was to open oneself up to weakness, to give someone something to hold over you.
But what was the alternative? he thought, opening his eyes and looking around his stark apartment. Keeping to yourself, making more money? Eating your heart out over a beautiful woman with a gentle smile?
His life seemed rather pathetic right now. Empty and purposeless. He closed his eyes. The Bible was still open on his lap. He knew what he had to do. He just wasn’t sure exactly how to go about it. Show me, Lord. Help me through this, he prayed. I can’t go on like this. I love her. I know I do. I know what You want of me. I don’t like being weak. I don’t like letting others be in charge, but I’m hereby putting You in charge of my life. He stopped, as if analyzing the data, then shook his head. I’m letting go. I surrender.
And at that moment, as he mentally pried his fingers from all the events of his life that he clung to so tightly, he felt a lightness, a peace pervade him.
He spent the next half hour paging through the Bible, remembering passages that Tom Steele used to read. He reacquainted himself with a book that had once been a part of every meal, every evening before bed.
And he slowly felt the tension leave his shoulders. He laid the Bible aside with a rueful grin. Salvation or no, he still had some work to do. And he still had to figure out how he was going to reconcile himself with Caitlin, praying he hadn’t blown it.
The harsh peal of the doorbell broke his concentration on the computer. With a dazed glance he looked up. Darkness had fallen while he had worked. He wondered who it could be. For a brief moment the thought pierced him that it might be Caitlin. But common sense told him to forget that idea.
Simon got up, walked to the door, opened it and frowned.
A tall figure stood backlit by the light from the hallway. He wore a red plaid jacket over a denim shirt tucked into denim jeans. Cowboy boots completed the picture.
“Simon Steele?” the man asked.
Simon nodded, then, as the voice filtered through his memories he felt the blood drain from his face, felt his heart slow.
“Jake?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Hello, Simon,” Jake replied, his hands hanging at his sides, not making a move in his brother’s direction.
Simon couldn’t help but stare. It was Jake all right. Same dark hair with a tendency to wave, same brown eyes that looked steadily at the world from beneath level brows. Same uncompromising mouth. Same Jake, only older.
Simon forced his gaze away. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside, shock making him almost incoherent.
He flicked on some lights as Jake walked into the room.
Jake stopped halfway, not sitting down, just looking at his brother. But what do you say after all those quiet years? Their last phone call had been full of anger and accusations and they hadn’t spoken to each other since.
Now two grown men stared across the room at each other as the silence stretched out.
Finally Simon asked, “How did you find me?”
Jake sat down then, his elbows resting on his knees. “I got a phone call,” he said slowly, clasping his hands. “From a woman named Caitlin. She called when you were still in the hospital. I would have come to visit you then, but she called in the middle of fieldwork. We were way behind so I couldn’t come.”
Simon sat down at that. Caitlin again. Dear, sweet, wonderful, beautiful, organizing Caitlin. “How did she find you?”
Jake lifted one shoulder, shaking his head. “Don’t have a clue.” He looked up at Simon. “I thought you might have told her.”
“I haven’t talked to you in over twelve years.” Simon blew out his breath as the reality of the words settled in for both of them. He looked at his brother as he struggled to find something that would bridge the gap of time and space between him and one of the few people in his life that he had ever truly loved.
Jake looked up and for a moment their eyes held. Jake was the first to look down, pressing his thumbs together and apart. “So, what kind of work have you been doing these past years?”
Chitchat, thought Simon. A warming up, a way of circling and checking each other out from the safe distance of work and occupation. “I own a few franchises, dabble in stocks and bonds.” Simon laughed shortly as he heard his job through his brother’s ears. “What about you?”
Jake pursed his lips, tilted his head to one side. “I’m farming with Fred Prins. My foster father.”
“So you stayed there?”
Jake nodded. “I was fortunate there.”
Simon clasped his hands over his stomach, letting a silence drift up between them, full of memories. “So, you ever get married?” he asked finally.
Jake laughed shortly. “Yes. I have a little girl. My wife is dead, though.”
Simon sensed a history there, but didn’t pursue it, recognizing the need to keep things light for now. “Well I didn’t. Always been restless, I guess.”
More silence. They both knew what the end result of that restlessness had been.
“So, how long can you stay?” Simon asked.
“I’ve got a couple of days off. I thought I would stay around for a while tomorrow. I have to be back the next day, though. Christmas is coming.”
Simon nodded, feeling a clutch of sorrow at the mention of Christmas. He was usually gone this time of the year. However, for now his sorrow was alleviated by the reality of his brother, here. A brother who wanted to reconnect the broken thread of their mutual past. Family.
“Did you have supper?” Simon asked.
“I grabbed a burger at Blue River,” Jake said.
“Then you’re probably ready for something else. We could go out, but you’re probably tired. I’ll order in.”
Half an hour later they sat across from each other at the table—a steaming pizza in a box between them. Bachelor food, thought Simon wryly. Jake paused a moment, bowing his head, and Simon realized he was asking a blessing.
Simon did the same. I’m a little rusty at this, God, he prayed, I’m not exactly sure what I should be saying, but thanks. He paused then added, Thanks for Jake. He lifted his head and caught Jake’s surprised look. He ignored it and started eating. When they were done, they moved to the living room, settling into an awkward silence.
“Why don’t you ask me the questions you want to, Jake,” Simon said after a few minutes, knowing he wanted to get things out in the open. “We can get all of this stuff from our past out of the way.”
“We’ll never get it all out of the way,” Jake said, standing up and turning to face his brother. “Things don’t just go away because you’ve decided they will.”
Simon held his brother’s steady gaze. “You came a long way to see me, Jake. I think you’re allowed a few questions.”
“Okay.” Jake plowed his hand through his hair, rearranging the neat waves. “May as well get to it. Did you ever find Mom?”
“No. I would have called you if I did.”
“Would
you have?” Jake asked, his short laugh sounding harsh. “It would have been nice if you had, anyhow. Because I didn’t have the first clue where you were, Simon. In over ten years not a letter, a phone call, not even a postcard or a message sent via someone else. I thought you were dead, man. I really thought you were dead.”
And as Simon listened to the pain in his brother’s voice, he was forced to face the consequences of his own actions.
“I remember asking why you always ran, and you’d say you were looking for Mom. Were you really?” Jake’s voice was quiet now.
Simon shrugged. “At first I was. After Dad Steele died, I hated the idea that we got moved and had no say. I missed Dad and I didn’t know how to show it. So I would take off.”
“The social workers would get so ticked off at you for running away all the time. I remember how flustered our foster parents would get,” Jake said.
“The one, Mary Arnold, would always cry and her husband would yell.”
“I think they liked us but couldn’t handle the stress. So we got moved again.”
“For what it’s worth, Jake, I’m sorry,” Simon said quietly.
“Well, we only went through one more. Then we were split up....”
“And you landed on your feet at the Prins’s home,” Simon said wistfully. “I was always jealous of you, you know that?”
“You didn’t like it at your last foster home, did you?”
Simon shook his head. “The Stinsons were decent people but hard. I used to hate it when she would punish me by taking away visits with you.” Simon smiled. “I always enjoyed our visits together. I remember coming to visit you at the Prins’s, and Mrs. Prins would always give me a big hug. It was about the only time I got one.”
“Really?”
Simon held his brother’s gaze. “Yeah, Jake. Really.”
“You never said.”
“C’mon. We were fifteen. What guy of that age is going to admit that he still likes to get a hug?” Simon shrugged off the memory. “Like I said, the Stinsons did what they were supposed to, but I didn’t get a lot of affection there.”
“That why you ran away?”
“Partly. I was sick of getting told what to do. I was a cocky, mixed-up sixteen-year-old who had some weird notion of finding our mother so that you and I could get back together again. You were so happy at the Prins’s home, I knew you wouldn’t run away unless I gave you a good reason to.”
“Tilly and Fred Prins treated me like a son. Running away to find our mother was a dead end.”
“I didn’t look that hard, Jake,” Simon conceded. “I didn’t have the time, money or resources. And after a while, I didn’t even have much of a reason.”
“Do you think we might find her yet?”
“I’d like to think we might.”
“If we both put our energy behind it, we could find out if she’s still alive or not.”
Simon had always lived under the impression that Jake wasn’t interested in looking into their past. “Sounds good to me. I’d like to connect with her, be a family again. When I was in the hospital, the kid next to me would get visits from his family. And I would get jealous....”
“If I had known...”
“Doesn’t matter, Jake. You’re here now and for that I thank God.”
They spent the rest of the evening catching up, exchanging idle chitchat, reconnecting.
The next morning Simon and Jake went to a restaurant for breakfast and Jake asked him who Caitlin was.
“A nurse at the hospital.”
“But she didn’t call from the hospital.”
“No?” Simon was surprised. “Where did she call from?”
“Said it was her sister’s place. She seems like a great person, Simon,” Jake continued. “When she phoned I wasn’t exactly hospitable, but she kept at me.”
“She does that well,” conceded Simon with a wry grin.
“She told me that she believed God had brought her to me and told me she would be praying for us.” He laughed lightly, pouring syrup over his pancakes. “Told me that you and I needed to be a family again.”
“Family’s pretty important to her. As is her faith.” Simon fiddled with his eggs.
“I get the feeling that she’s special?”
Special? The word was totally inadequate to describe the hunger that clutched him when he thought of her. The regret that he felt just now. “I think I love her, Jake,” he said, unable to keep the words down, needing to talk to someone about it. Who better than his own brother?
“That’s great.”
Simon sighed. “I guess.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Jake continued.
“She’s a wonderful person, just like you guessed. Her faith is so strong and so much a part of her,” Simon continued, staring into the middle distance, thinking about her. “She comes from a secure, happy family. I don’t know if I can give her the same. I’ve run away from every family I’ve been a part of.”
“Don’t underestimate what you have to offer.” Jake forked up a piece of pancake. “She must care for you. Why else would she call?”
Simon hardly dared believe what his brother said. He knew he and Caitlin shared something. He knew that he loved her dearly. But for the rest of their time together, Caitlin wasn’t mentioned again.
They walked back to Simon’s apartment, talking, catching up. “You want to come to the farm for Christmas?” Jake asked after a moment. “I know you’ll be more than welcome.”
Simon shrugged, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. “I don’t know. I usually spend Christmas in warmer places. I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“What’s to do? You show up, eat, laugh. Come to church. You could meet my little girl.”
Simon smiled as he opened the door of his condo for his brother. “A niece. Imagine that.”
“She’s a cutie, ‘Uncle Simon.’” Jake nudged him. “You’d love her.”
“Uncle Simon. That has a nice ring to it.” Simon tried to imagine Jake with a little girl, tried to see himself as an uncle. Family.
“So are you going to come?”
Simon pulled in a deep breath and blew it out again. He had missed Caitlin more each day, wanted to be with her. I’ve loved you, prayed for you. Her words haunted him. He had told her it was over, yet he knew he would never forget her.
“No,” he said suddenly, shrugging off his coat. “I think I should finish off some unfinished business first.”
“Caitlin?”
Simon caught his lip between his teeth and nodded.
“I think that’s wise. She sounds like a sincere, warm person. I didn’t come across real well when I talked to her, but she didn’t hang up on me. Thanks to her, I’m here. I’d like you to go and thank her for me.”
“I haven’t had to contend with so much advice since last time I saw you.”
“It’s good advice you know.” Jake glanced down at his watch and got up. His grin softened into a wistful smile as he took a step closer to Simon. He held out his hand. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. It was so good to see you again.”
Simon took his brother’s hand and then, grasping it tightly, pulled him closer. Their arms came around each other and Simon swallowed down a knot of emotion. His brother. His family.
Thank You Lord, he prayed, squeezing his eyes shut.
When he pulled away he could see Jake was as moved as he was.
“I’ll walk you to your vehicle.”
“That’s okay. Let’s just say goodbye now. I don’t like goodbyes.”
Simon held his brother’s dark eyes as the unspoken words whispered between them as each remembered other separations, other goodbyes. “I promise this one won’t be as long,” Simon said, his voice
thick with emotion.
Jake smiled back, and then they were hugging again, their arms tight. “Thanks for everything,” Jake said, pulling back. “You make sure you come.”
“I will. I just have some things to do yet. But I’ll be there.” He hardly dared think past the current moment, that things might work out. He only knew regardless of how Caitlin took it, he had to tell her how he felt.
“Keep me posted,” Jake said picking up the overnight bag he’d left by the front door.
“I will.” Simon watched as Jake left, closing the door behind him. The visit had come and gone so quickly, but he knew he would see his brother again.
Thank You, Lord, he prayed, closing his eyes in thankfulness. Now if You could only help me out with this next thing.
* * *
Caitlin leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself as she listened to the carolers coming down the hallway of the hospital, fighting down the emotions that were so close to the surface. She blinked, staring ahead at the bright lights that someone had strung along the ward. They swam, sparkled, danced. She blinked again, and her vision cleared.
It was the season, she figured, wiping the tears from her face. Christmas was a time rife with emotions. For Caitlin it was a reminder of how alone she was this Christmas. She smiled at that thought, thinking of all the people swarming through her
parents’ home, filling it with laughter and noise. Hardly alone.
Her mother had been busy for weeks beforehand, cooking, baking and cleaning in preparation for the holidays. It had been a few Christmases since the three girls were together. Tony and his wife never came.
Where are you, Simon, she wondered, closing her eyes as she dropped her head against the hard wall behind her. Another tear slid down her cheek but she let it go. Are you alone this Christmas? She swallowed a lump that filled her throat. She let herself think of him, pray for him, yearn for him.
Just a few more minutes, she thought, a few more minutes of remembering what he looked like, how his voice could lower and send shivers down her spine, what his mouth felt like on hers.
A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming Page 16
