A Time to Surrender

by Sally John

  “You can’t.” She walked down the hall, into her bedroom. “You just can’t.”

  “Give me a break, Jen.”

  “Oh, I don’t really mean it. But still.” A fresh wave of abandonment washed over her.

  “I gotta get my head on straight.”

  “Good grief, how old are you anyway? You were supposed to do this when you were in high school! Lexi will have a fit.”

  “She didn’t. She has Nathan now. Moving right along, how are you doing?”

  She huffed and sat on her bed. “Fine.”

  He waited.

  “Better. I have made conscious efforts to sit still and talk to God. Three times. For about a minute and a half.”

  He chuckled. “Each?”

  “Yes. I think I’m almost to the point of believing He’s close enough to listen.”

  “That’s great progress.”

  “And I’m throwing a barbecue even as we speak. Marine wives and children. Amber’s here too. Joey left yesterday, so she’s bummed.”

  “The benevolent princess gathers her kingdom.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Bye, sis. I’ll be in touch.”

  A lump filled her throat. She whispered, “Bye.”

  She turned off the phone. Why did he have to go too? The brother she counted on to pray for her, even when she wasn’t interested.

  Maybe it was her turn to pray for him.

  “God, if You’re listening, please screw his head on right and keep him safe.”

  Jenna, I really think you’d like my church.” Amber pushed the automatic ice dispenser button on the refrigerator door. The machine cranked into gear and ice cubes plunked into the bucket she held. “Wow.” She raised her voice above the noise. “You sure scored with this fridge, didn’t you? Niiiice rental.”

  Jenna paused in tossing a salad and narrowed her eyes at Amber until the racket stopped. “Which question do you want answered first?”

  Amber smiled. “I only asked one. Don’t get bent all out of shape. The church comment was a comment.”

  “You’ve never made such a comment before.”

  “Hmm. Must not have been time until now.” She set the ice bucket on the countertop. “You have mentioned how your parents’ church is too small and traditional and Danny’s is too big and odd. Mine might be just right, Goldilocks. But I really am impressed with this fridge.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “Fair enough. You will—know when you’re ready, I mean. You’re welcome anytime. I’ll take this tray outside.”

  “Thanks. Be there in a minute.”

  Everyone was in her backyard. She could hear their laughter. The house was perfect for entertaining with its gas grill, patio table, and a grassy area for a wading pool that Jenna had bought for the kids. Not to mention the automatic ice dispenser.

  With Danny she had teased about the one and a half minutes with God. In truth, she had been sensing something different most of the time since they had talked Wednesday night.

  Maybe it had something to do with Kevin’s two e-mails since then, his expressions of love.

  Maybe it had something to do with caring for others. Preparing for the barbecue with her new friends had energized her. Having them in her home calmed her.

  Maybe it had something to do with confessing her adultery to God every single day. She didn’t know if it would ever “take,” if she would ever be relieved of the shame, but whenever she prayed, there were slivers of light in the darkness. It was enough to keep her functioning one day at a time.

  The phone rang. She picked up the cordless and noticed the caller ID. It blurred except for one word: Govt.

  No, no, no!

  “Hello.”

  “Is this Mrs. Jenna Mason?” It was a female voice. “Wife of Sergeant Kevin D. Mason?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your husband has been injured.”

  The world careened off its axis.

  Jenna moved like an automaton responding to the directions of others. “Drink this. Eat that. Sit down.” Their questions, asked in hushed voices, were endless. “Where’s his mother’s number, honey? What jacket do you want to take? Do you want this handbag or that one? How about a hot bath? A salad?”

  Her new little house was wall-to-wall people. Amber, Miranda, and two other wives were still there—friends without children in tow. Jenna’s parents, grandparents, Lexi, Erik, Tuyen, Skylar, Danny had all arrived within the hour. Rosie and even Nathan had stopped in at some point.

  “It was an IED. Improvised explosive device.”

  By now Miranda had heard from her husband. He was fine. The others were fine. They’d been on foot patrol, Kevin a few steps ahead of one of them.

  A few steps ahead. Which put him in that exact spot at that exact time, ensuring that he took the impact, received the wound.

  A chill went through her.

  He didn’t choose.

  He got chosen. Like being given some cosmic assignment, he got chosen.

  Did they know which part of his body was injured? He had been walking, a guarantee—despite flak jacket and helmet—that it was bad. How bad?

  “How bad?” she had asked Miranda.

  “He only said it wasn’t his head.”

  She sat on her bed now, clutching a pillow to her stomach, and watched. Lexi pulled clothes from dresser drawers and closet. Her mother folded them and tucked them into a suitcase.

  Lexi said, “Jen, where’s your passport?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s unpacked yet.”

  “No, I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know the extent of his injuries.”

  Lexi said, “So it’s in a box, in the garage. Marked ‘desk’ or ‘personal files’?”

  Her sister seemed suddenly older. Her face came into sharp focus. The shy girl disinterested in clothes and makeup was gone. She was succinctly putting together Jenna’s travel wardrobe and cosmetics.

  “Lex, you feel . . . solid.”

  Lexi gave her a quizzical look. “Mind if I put Skylar on the passport hunt? She’s looking for a job to do and I don’t think she needs another ID.”

  Claire tsked.

  “Just kidding, Mom. She likes it when I do.”

  Jenna said, “It’s in a plastic tub. Files.”

  “Mrs. Mason, is anyone there with you? Can I call someone for you?”

  Amber had been the first to hear her cries from the patio. The others rushed in right behind her and swarmed about her. Jenna didn’t have to do a thing but sink to the floor and be hugged. Somebody took the phone from her. Somebody gave her water. Somebody helped her to the couch and wrapped an afghan around her. Somebody turned off the oven. Somebody called her mom.

  Very princess-style.

  “He’s in emergency surgery in Baghdad. Getting the best care in the world. As soon as he’s stable, they’ll medevac him to Germany. You can meet him there.”

  Her mom sat down beside her. “Honey, are you sure you don’t want Dad to go with you too?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Danny will take good care of you, I know.”

  Lexi said, “You should have seen him go at it with Erik’s boss that night at the news station.” She referred to the time Danny was watching the local news and saw his brother the newscaster, drunk as a skunk on live TV. By the time the program ended, Danny was at the station, chewing out the manager for letting Erik go on-air in such a condition. “Nobody but nobody was going to hurt his big brother. He will definitely take care of you.”

  “It’s impossible to say how long.”

  Claire pulled Jenna close and leaned back against the headboard.

  Jenna shut her eyes. She hadn’t cried. No more tears were needed. She had wept incessantly for six months over the possibility of what had just occurred. It was over.

  Jenna sat, zombielike, in an armchair. Everyone circled about. Everyone insisted on one thing or another.
/>
  Danny declared he was going with her to Germany. He was packed already and had changed his ticket. There was nothing to discuss. Her mother and grandmother would spend the night. Her dad would drive them to the airport in the morning. Lexi would take care of her mail and yard. Amber would call Cade. Papa advised Jenna to take something to help her sleep.

  I can’t be knocked out. Her mind screamed. What if they call? What if they come here, those special Marines in their special car to pay me a special visit?

  It was late. Jenna wanted them all to go home, but her mind would not stop racing long enough to insist upon her own things.

  What did she know about IEDs? They blew up. They did indescribable things to people, things that her imagination now displayed in full color.

  Miranda, her new friend with the dimples that never went away, crouched down in front of her. “We’re going home. Promise to call me if we can do anything.”

  Jenna nodded.

  The dimples deepened. “Ooh-rah, girl.”

  Two more wives hugged her, one at a time, each whispering, “Ooh-rah.”

  Ooh-rah. Yes, ooh-rah.

  Jenna was the wife of a Marine. There were things she had to finish before she went to be with her husband.

  She thanked her family, but sent them all home. It must have been something in her firm tone that silenced any protest. She asked Amber to stay a bit longer.

  They sat on the couch. Jenna said, “You called Cade?”

  She nodded. “He’s upset, naturally. He said he’d call the substitute teacher back who’s been in your room since you’ve been off.”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “I have a—a pretty weird request.”

  Amber cocked her head. “Under the circumstances, you have total dispensation from ‘weird.’ Nothing you say or do will be held against you.”

  “I was hoping for a little less courtroom and more church. Like you did with Skylar the other day.”

  “Huh? You mean when I listened to her confession?”

  “Yes. I need to say this out loud and I can’t tell my mom. It’d hurt her so much. And Danny—well, he’s just got enough on his plate right now. Amber, I saw you with Skylar. You’re the only person who might understand. Please don’t hate me.”

  “I could never hate you, Jenna, no matter what.” Amber took one of her hands and held it tightly between hers. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “I-I . . .” Oh, God, help. She gulped a deep breath. “I slept with Cade.”

  Amber’s eyes grew large. She didn’t move a muscle. She seemed to stop breathing.

  “The night after the funeral. I just couldn’t handle being scared and alone anymore.”

  Two big tears spilled from Amber’s eyes and slid slowly down her cheeks. “Oh, Jenna.”

  “Don’t hold it against Cade. I pressured him into it.”

  Amber winced.

  “Amber, did God hurt Kevin to punish me?”

  “No, Jenna. Oh, no. He doesn’t treat us that way.”

  She wasn’t convinced but continued to unload her pent-up fears. “How can I bring Kevin home to this? He’ll hate me. It’s the worst thing I could have done to him. I know I did it in part to get back at him for leaving me, for going to that awful place. I’m not making excuses, but that’s the truth.”

  “He’ll forgive you, Jenna.”

  “What if he doesn’t? Why would he?”

  Amber squeezed her hand. “Shh. Let’s take care of first things first. Make your confession to God—”

  “To God! Why would He listen to me? I am so ashamed.”

  “Jenna, He’s always listening because He loves us just as we are. I bet Kevin doesn’t love you any less first thing in the morning than when you’re all gussied up for a date night. God’s like that. He’s not going to turn us away because our lives are a mess.”

  “But how can He ever forgive me?”

  “He already did, when Jesus died. Talk to Him. Tell Him what you’re telling me.”

  Jenna closed her eyes to shut out Amber’s tearful face. How many times had she heard similar teaching from her grandmother? For thirty years Nana’s words had fallen on deaf ears and a stone-cold heart.

  But now—having committed the emotional equivalent of murdering her husband—she could suddenly hear. Her heart ached so badly she thought it might literally break apart.

  “Lord, I am so sorry. Please, please forgive me f-for . . .” She swallowed.

  “Name it,” Amber whispered.

  “It’s so awful.” She expelled a loud breath. “Forgive me for committing adultery. Please keep Kevin safe right now, in surgery or on the plane or wherever he is. And please, please, please let him be able to forgive me.”

  Silent moments passed. Jenna felt nothing. And then . . . a subtle lessening of the ache, a faint light in the blackness that had filled her soul. Hope stirred within her. Whatever her daily pleas had been, they had not been confession. They had not been this true acknowledgment of sin before the living and holy God.

  Amber said, “Father, thank You for hearing the cries of Your child. Fill her up with Your mercy. Let her know she is forgiven.”

  A distinct sense of release settled over Jenna. Yes indeed, God had heard her cries at last and He had answered.

  Finally, she began to cry.

  Sixty-three

  Monday morning Claire sat with Indio and Skylar in the hacienda kitchen, sipping coffee. Plates and the remains of breakfast littered the table. Nobody moved to clear it.

  Skylar said, “Well, thanks for the last meal, ladies.”

  Indio smacked her forearm with a teaspoon. “Enough with the gallows humor. You’re just going away for a little while.”

  “You have God’s word on that?”

  “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. He told me the moment you said ‘last meal.’ Receive it, child.” Skylar smiled. “Okay.”

  Claire sniffed and smashed a napkin to her face. Jenna and Danny were on their way to Germany to be with Kevin. Rosie was due any minute now to pick up Skylar. Their police friend had somehow convinced the FBI that she would escort Skylar to the airport for them.

  Too much letting go all at once.

  They sat in silence. The clock ticked and tocked. It was a sunny day.

  Lexi and Tuyen had already said their good-byes to Skylar earlier in the morning before they left for work. Now, Ben and Max waited outside for Rosie.

  All too soon they ushered in Rosie. Erik, surprisingly, followed. Lately his consulting work with a production company had kept him busy.

  They said their good-byes in the kitchen. One by one hugs were exchanged. Indio prayed softly as she hugged Skylar. Claire waited to embrace her last.

  “We will visit you, Skylar,” she whispered into her hair. “I promise you that. You are like a daughter to me. I love you very much.”

  Skylar nodded.

  And then she was gone.

  No one moved or said anything.

  Erik broke the silence. “Did you notice, no handcuffs? Rosie said she wouldn’t put them on until she has to at the airport.”

  Claire’s stomach turned, grateful that Rosie said it would be best if they parted at the house. It would have humiliated Skylar further to do so in public.

  She said, “Your Rosie takes good care of us.”

  “Yes, she does. Speaking of Rosie, my video camera is in the car.” He waggled his brows at Claire, Max, Indio, and Ben. “Ta-da! It’s interview time. I figured you’d all need a diversion right about now.”

  Ben harrumphed and strode toward the door. “I got horses to tend to. Just lost my best helper.”

  “I’ll catch you out there, Papa.”

  Max followed his father. “I’ll be somewhere.”

  “Chicken.”

  Indio moved toward the couch. “I really need a nap. Later, maybe.”

  “Night-night.” Erik turned to Claire. “Mom. Puh-lease don’t run out on me.”

  “What is this project all about?”r />
  “I told you I’d teased Rosie, not long after we met, about turning her life into a movie. Well, I got started with Nathan’s help. At first it was a documentary about this amazing policewoman, but then it turned into something else. Which is still a secret from her and everyone. Are you game?”

  Claire looked around the kitchen and sighed, already missing Skylar. “Sure.”

  “Meet me in the sala in three.” He rushed out the door.

  This is my mother, Claire Beaumont.” Seated on the couch beside her, Erik spoke toward the video camera he’d set up on a tripod. He used his so-called professional voice, which wasn’t much different from his everyday one, perhaps a touch smoother. He always did have an ease with speech and sounds that inspired others to listen.

  “Erik, you really are gifted in front of a camera.”

  “Mom.” He moved his head in a circle. “Later.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “No worries. I’ll edit this stuff out.” He sat unblinking, statue still. When he spoke again, he was back in character. “Claire and my father raised four children and now, in their latter years, have taken over my grandparents’ Hacienda Hideaway, a retreat center near Santa Reina, California. They—”

  “Latter years?’ I can’t even see sixty on the horizon.”

  He blinked. “When do latter years begin?”

  “I don’t know. Not yet, though. Do they?”

  “I’d say postfifty, fifty-five.”

  “That’s because you’re hardly postthirty. Just you wait. Fifty is young. Fifty-five is prime time, nowhere near the downward side of life.”

  He blinked again. “Tell you what, Mom. I’ll record this intro part later. Let me move over here.” He went to a chair beside the camera. “And you just talk to me. Tell me about the first time you met Rosie Delgado.”

  “Should I look at that red light on the camera?”

  “Whatever you’re most comfortable with. Me, the camera, the ceiling.”

  “I’d look pretty silly talking to the ceiling.”

  His composed, handsome face revealed nothing. The growl revealed a lot.

  “Erik, maybe now is not a good time. I’m a little on edge. As a matter of fact, I think I may now understand how you felt that night you went on the air after drinking because you were upset over Felicia. You had to go on. You had a job to do. You did some stupid things, but sometimes life can push us so hard we behave irrationally.