by Sally John
She bit a fingernail, seeing that night in all its vivid horror. It did not take much effort to imagine. She knew firsthand the roar of fire . . .
“Skylar, what’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.”
“You look scared.”
“I’m fine.”
“The night did have a happy ending.”
“So you said.”
“And this year we’ve had above-average rainfall. Conditions are nowhere near what they were. Papa and the neighbor are working on a path between the properties. It really is safe to live here, I promise. Safer than going to a protest. You won’t leave, will you?”
“What?”
“You won’t leave the Hideaway? Mom says she’d have to close up shop if you left.”
Skylar’s throat tightened. She was on overload and dangerously close to spilling again.
“You are upset.”
“Stop telling me how I feel—”
“Did you sleep last night?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You could have stayed home. It’s obvious you’re worn out.”
“Danny, don’t you ever shut up?”
“Not much.” He went quiet.
In the silence between them she heard something. Like birdsong that was there all along but undetected until a noisy lawn mower was turned off, she heard it.
It was the sound of Danny’s unspoken thoughts.
The guy liked her.
Skylar scrunched herself as far into her corner of the truck bed as possible. Next time she’d let him yap as long as he wanted.
Five minutes into their hike in some far-flung corner of the estate’s three hundred acres set in the middle of nowhere, Skylar accepted the fact that avoiding Danny was not a possibility. She didn’t exactly have anyplace else to go for the time being.
Like a tour guide, Lexi led the way up unmarked rock-strewn, almost-vertical paths and described—not without a few tears—what had happened the night of the fire. Nathan stayed close beside her. They all carried water bottles; the guys carried lanterns as well.
Skylar liked the lovey-doveys. Lexi was quiet; when she spoke she had something to say. Nathan was, in Lexi’s words, the boy next door—simply an all-around nice, solid guy.
The strenuous climb tired Skylar. The emotional story pouring from Lexi zapped every last ounce of her energy. She should have skipped the whole thing.
But sitting back at the hacienda would have meant wallowing in regrets and fears about Jenna and Amber. Which she was not doing now. God, please.
God?
Oh, man. She was losing it.
Danny appeared at her side. “Don’t bite my head off.”
“Don’t have the breath for it.” She opened her water bottle and took a swig.
“I’m not saying you look ready to keel over, but tell me if you need to sit for a while.”
“Sure.” She watched in her peripheral vision. He took off his cap, wiped sweat from his brow, replaced the hat. The gesture had a hint of anxiety in it. “You haven’t come up here before?”
“Not since the fire. Lexi and I used to play up here as kids. I came partway once, got as far as the back there.” He referred to his grandfather’s other truck, the one driven the night of the fire. It was a burned-out shell. Because of its remote location, they’d put it last on the postfire cleanup list.
She said, “No further?”
“It seemed like, I don’t know, a sacred ground or something. A place closed off until Lexi was ready to take me to it.”
“You two are really close.”
“Most of the time.” He smiled softly at his twin’s back a short distance ahead of them. “Excuse me.” With the grace of a deer, he bounded up to Lexi and Nathan.
They were too far ahead for Skylar to overhear what he said to her. She saw Lexi smile and slip an arm across Danny’s back.
Danny had a bit of all-around nice, solid character himself.
Sometime later they reached their destination at the top of a steep incline. Danny and Nathan knelt on the ground before a pile of rocks against the hillside and began pulling them away.
Lexi and Skylar sat down nearby and drank water.
Skylar said, “This is it?”
“Yes. Behind those rocks is the mine. Do you want to come inside?”
She shook her head. The sight of Lexi’s tear-streaked face affirmed her decision not to follow that far. Lexi’s revisit to that spot should be a private scene between her, Danny, and Nathan.
Lexi nodded.
“You’ll be okay.”
She nodded again and wiped the corner of her eye. “Happy tears. I’m so grateful that God kept us safe that night. I’m so grateful for the whole awful thing, even.”
“Why?”
“It forced me to face some hard truths about myself and learn how to trust in God. I am in such a better space than I was a year ago. And, in a roundabout way, it brought Nathan into my life.”
Skylar smiled.
“There it is.” Lexi nodded toward the hillside. A hole no larger than a crawl space had been opened.
“It doesn’t look like a gold mine entrance.”
“It was a back way in, probably a hundred years ago. The tunnel ends at a cave-in where our great-great-something grandfather was killed. Danny and I discovered the place when we were kids. If Papa had known what we were up to, he never would have allowed us beyond the barnyard. He almost caught us once when we didn’t put his flashlights back.” She chuckled. “We had so much fun playing ‘gold miners’ inside here.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yes. Erik preferred hanging out with the horses. Jenna was always sitting in the sala with a stack of books.”
“You and Danny sound like the holy terrors of the family.”
“In my defense, I have to say he was. I just tagged along.” Lexi stood, resolve written evident in her stance. “And I’m really glad I did. Otherwise we probably wouldn’t be here today.”
Skylar watched her step over to the entrance, pick up a lantern, and then drop to her knees. Lexi crawled into the opening and disappeared from sight. Nathan followed with the other lantern.
Danny looked back at her. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
“Okay.” A moment later he was gone.
Skylar was left alone in the hush of high desert broken by dissonant echoes of sorrow. How could she ache so strongly for something she’d never had?
Maybe it was because now she understood that growing up within the safety net of a loving family would have made all the difference. All the difference in the world.
Thirty-five
Ma’am, as I’ve already said, I am not allowed to give out patient information. That means none at all.”
Jenna squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers ached from their grip on the telephone.
The person on the other end of the line was a nurse at the hospital and she absolutely refused to say if Amber was dead or alive or even still in the ICU.
Jenna’s voice warbled like a sick seagull, but she pressed on. “When will Nurse Cathy be in?” Maybe the woman who had let her see Amber the previous night would answer her questions.
“Ma’am, all I can tell you—again—is that she’s not on duty at this time. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
Jenna hung up on the loathsome voice, struck with her own rudeness. Compared to life’s tragedies, though, being rude to a faceless stranger did not matter.
She balled her hands into fists and stared at a small section of tiled wall, the backdrop to the kitchen’s built-in desk. “I will not cry.” She shoved her palms against her eyes and wondered if she’d ever get hold of her emotions again.
A short while ago, she’d stumbled out of the guest room, still groggy with sleep. It was late afternoon. The hacienda was quiet, the courtyard and kitchen alike vacant. She had no idea where anyone was, nor did it matter. Her only thought had been to fin
d out about Amber.
But she couldn’t.
Did Cade know anything?
At the hospital earlier, after what happened between them—that moment, that glitch—they had left the small room with its telephone, its chairs shoved close together, and its blue floral-print wallpaper. They sat in the cafeteria, across a table from one another, and sipped tea, talking of everything but what happened between them in the small room. Then Cade had walked her to the parking lot where Danny waited in his truck and promised to check in on Amber later.
At the hacienda, after breakfast with the family, Jenna had fallen asleep to her own promise not to mix it up with Cade again.
But she needed to know how Amber was!
Oh, Lord, please don’t let her die. Please don’t let her die.
Nearly ill from exhaustion and worry, Jenna admitted it would be idiotic to drive herself down to the city. Her dad had already declared at breakfast that he would not take her anywhere until Monday, no matter how much she whined. Her mother agreed.
Jenna had no choice but to phone Cade.
Her cell didn’t work at the hacienda, but she used it to find his number and then called it with the house phone.
He answered on the first ring. “Edmunds.”
“Cade, it’s me. Jen—”
“Jenna, are you all right?”
The overt concern in his voice was too loud. It tore through her, shoving roughly at her fragile sense of equilibrium.
“Jenna?”
“How is Amber? The hospital won’t tell me anything.”
“I talked with her parents a couple of hours ago. They said there’s been no change, which is good news for now.”
“Are they coming?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow night.”
“Joey?”
“They talked with him. He should make it here by late Monday.”
“Will they call you if . . .”
“Yes. Or they’ll call you. I gave them your number too—cell, home, and your parents’ house.”
“Okay.” Okay, okay. Everything was under control. For now.
“Please tell me how you are.”
“I’m . . .” She took a deep breath. “Fine.”
“You slept?”
“Yeah. Is there more on Amber?”
“Only what the nurse told you before. They’ll keep her in the coma until the brain swelling goes down.”
“And when will that be?” Jenna wiped at her damp cheeks. “Huh? When?”
“They can’t say.”
“Oh, Cade! How did this happen? Why did this happen?”
“It just happened, Jenna. It just happened. It is what it is.”
Suddenly she knew that he was no longer talking about Amber.
He said, “It can’t be undone.” There was a hint of defeat in his voice.
“I-I know.”
“We move on.”
“I agree. Like two ships passing in the night.”
After a silent moment, he said, “My favorite English teacher is speaking in cliché?”
Jenna closed her eyes. “Your favorite English teacher is a total basket case.”
“That’s obvious. Go back to sleep. I’ll call if there’s any change with Amber.”
“Promise me, Cade?”
“I promise. By the way, don’t you dare think about coming in next week. Your favorite sub is counting on five days in your classroom. Understood?”
She heard the subtle change in his voice. Mr. Ice Guy was back.
Before replying, she waited for a twinge of disappointment to work its way out. She cleared her throat, humming around for the perfectly impassive tone. At last she said, “Understood.”
And she did understand what he said: as far as he was concerned, life was back to the way it had been before the night in the small room with the blue floral-print wallpaper.
Thirty-Six
Your favorite English teacher is a total basket case.”
Jenna’s words stopped Danny cold in his tracks in the doorway. His sister spoke toward the wall, her back to him, her teacher voice carrying easily backwards across the kitchen.
“Promise me, Cade?”
Cade. The name rooted Danny to the floor.
Jenna’s voice hushed, her good-bye lost to his hearing. He watched her hang up the phone and cross her arms on top of her head as if in exasperation.
He cleared his throat so as not to surprise her. “Jen.”
She turned. “You’re still here?”
“Seemed the thing to do with everyone being a little on edge.”
“Take me to the hospital?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” She lowered her arms to the back of the chair and laid her chin on them.
He walked to the island and leaned against it. Jenna appeared even more vulnerable, in her crumpled sweats and disheveled hair, than she had in the bombed-out church. “How are you feeling?”
“So-so. I called the hospital but they wouldn’t tell me about Amber. I called Cade; he’d talked to her parents.”
She called the hospital first? That order of events helped, but not much. “And her parents said what?”
“No change. They say that’s good.” She sighed. “How was the hike to the gold mine?”
At her question, he felt it all again, all the discomfort he’d felt earlier on the dusty trail and inside the damp tunnel. It was an empathetic fear for his mom, Lexi, Nana, and Papa. “I don’t know how they did it the night of the fire.”
“Oh, Danny, there’s just too much going on. I feel like the world is crumbling all around us.”
“Where does Cade fit in?”
She jerked upright. “What do you mean by that?”
“Come on, Jenna. You hang out with him at the beach. He spends the night with you at the hospital. First thing you wake up, you call him.”
Her face reddened. “I’ve worked with him for years. He’s our friend. Mine, Amber’s, and Kevin’s. He’s concerned about all of us.”
“‘Your favorite English teacher’?” He heard the harshness in his mocking tone but couldn’t let it go.
“It’s a joke.”
“The flirting kind.”
Jenna stood abruptly and walked by him. “I expected more from you, not this stupid judgmental attitude insinuating that somehow I’m disloyal to Kevin. You’re the only one who hates this war as much as I do. You should understand.”
He followed her with his eyes to the doorway.
She stopped and turned. “I’m getting one of those bumper stickers that says ‘Marine Wife’ and I’m going to proudly display it on my car. If you make one snide remark, I swear I’ll stop talking to you.”
“Hey, if ‘Marine Wife’ means ‘Hands off this chick,’ go for it. Make sure what’s-his-face sees it.”
She puffed a noise of disgust.
They were badgering each other now exactly as they’d done all through childhood and adolescence. But Danny felt obligated to speak his mind. Who else would tell Jenna she was headed for major trouble? Her overly defensive tone confirmed his suspicions. Cade was clearly much more than friend and boss to her.
“‘Marine Wife’ means,” she said, tossing her hair like a prancing mare, “all that semper fi stuff. Fortitude. It means that my husband and I are in this together. That he has my full support. That I can take care of myself while he’s gone.”
“In other words, ‘Hands off.’ That’s good, Jen.”
“You are so full of yourself, Daniel.” She spun on her heel and walked out the door.
Jenna was a snot, so full of her—
His anger drained away. Jenna was so full of fear.
Why hadn’t he figured that out yet? He’d been preoccupied with praying for his brother-in-law’s safety, not grasping the fact that Jenna lived in a war zone too. Although different in nature, it was every bit as dangerous to her well-being as Kevin’s situation was to him.
Lord, I’m sorry. Forgive me fo
r not listening to Jenna’s heart. Please keep Kevin and her safe. Draw her to Yourself. Help her to look to You for her peace and comfort. You alone and not what’s-his-face.
He should go after her. Apologize and tell her he understood.
Then again, maybe not.
On a good day Jenna was not very accepting of his faith and his attempts to incorporate it into everyday life. As a young girl she would ask him to pray about her piano recitals, but the request was similar to rubbing a rabbit’s foot for good luck.
That wasn’t his take on Christ. Yeah, He was there to help, but He also taught about turning from sin. Jenna never wanted to hear about that.
And, too, there was the real possibility that if he heard Jenna defend Cade Edmunds again, he would blow his cool to such a degree he’d push her over the edge. Asking her the tough questions was one thing, but losing rapport with her was not what he wanted.
Just like he didn’t want to lose the fragile rapport he had going with Skylar. He knew without a doubt that she’d run as fast as she could if he openly declared his thoughts. True, she reminded him less and less of his old friend Faith, and yet he couldn’t completely trust her—no matter how right that hug had felt last night.
Lord, I need some direction here. He’d prayed for Skylar as he did for Jenna, that God would give her faith to see Himself. It’s backfiring. The more I pray for her, the more she’s on my mind. And that’s a bit too much even for me to see You do.
He should go home, surf, clear his mind.
But the thought of being near Skylar was doing a number on him. Could be there weren’t enough waves to clear his mind of her—or to get a handle on his feelings.
Thirty-seven
The courtyard was midnight quiet. Low-to-the-ground solar lamps lit stone pathways and threw the fountain into a tall shadow. When guests slept at the hacienda, the gentle flow trickled throughout the night. Not this night, though. This night was for family and for remembering. For remembering and letting go of the old.
