Shaken

by Kariss Lynch

  Whispers spilled over his earpiece. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”

  “No way.”

  “We sure this is Janus?”

  “What kind of info did they feed us?”

  Nick craned his neck to get a better look. What was going on? He immediately pulled back. It couldn’t be. No way the Russians would be that stupid.

  “Hawk, are you seeing this?”

  “They sent a woman. Janus is a woman. No wonder we couldn’t catch ‘him.’”

  “Zip it.” Nick’s command ceased the abnormal level of chatter.

  Micah broke radio silence as they studied the activities in the hut. “Hawk, are you sure this is it?”

  Nick hesitated, but their orders were clear. “Wait to see if they make the deal, then we move in.”

  A man exited the hut and stood outside. Nick’s finger twitched. Caveman tapped his shoulder again and signaled Nick should circle the perimeter and get closer. Nick acknowledged and slowly inched from under his hide. His legs ached from lack of use. He pulled his gun with him and stood when he was farther back in the foliage.

  “Friendly on your six.”

  Micah appeared at his side; Nick signaled Micah should circle one way and he would go the other. His body moved like a jungle cat, careful not to disturb the nesting parrots far above or the leaves on the earthen floor. He circled closer, voices carrying through the windows in the humid air.

  Spanish. Nick thanked the Lord he had endured conjugating all those verbs in high school and college.

  “You have what we asked?”

  “Partially. You will be directed to the remainder when the money is wired.” The woman’s voice was thickly accented and strangely familiar.

  “That was never the deal.”

  “Well, this is what I am allowed to give. Take it or leave it.”

  “We could end this now. Your boss would miss you, but we are not so easily ignored.” Nick heard a sneer in the man’s voice. “He must be pretty stupid to send a woman such as yourself into the company of men such as we are.”

  The click of a gun switching from safety alerted Nick, and he tensed, wishing he had a piece of gum.

  “I would not be so stupid. You will never see your supplies if I do not return. I am part of the deal.” Her voice was dead and cold as the Arctic.

  A harsh laugh met her words. “Who are you, a small woman, against four armed men? You are stupid.” He spat, and Nick could feel the tension build in the muggy night. This was about to get ugly.

  Straining to hear, Nick shifted to see through the window. The woman’s revolver was still leveled at the man who appeared to be the head of the gang.

  A gun appeared in the man’s hand, and a shot cracked the stillness, sending parrots into the sky. The man’s body crumpled. “Anyone else, or can we get back to business?”

  Silence greeted her, and she lowered the gun. Nick still couldn’t see her face.

  “We’ve got positive identification. Take it out.” Nick could barely hear Micah’s command to withdraw. She had just killed the head of her negotiations, and the other men in the room remained impassive. Something wasn’t right. His brain clicked through a thousand possibilities like a slideshow on speed.

  “Trouble incoming! Get out of there now!” The whisper sounded over the earpiece, and Nick melted into the night, Micah joining him. The ground rumbled, and the air exploded. Yellow, orange, and red flames shot into the air.

  “Hawk, move!” Heat seared Nick’s face as he flew against a tree trunk and crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  THE STEEPLE LOOMED over Kaylan’s head as she carried a box of bottled water across the church parking lot. Her heart churned. She hadn’t felt the urge to pray this strongly since the earthquake, since Sarah Beth had died. Nick weighed on her mind—and had since his departure three weeks earlier. She knew she needed to pray for him, but she and God weren’t on speaking terms. It wasn’t so much that she was still mad. Her anger had fizzled after weeks of waking every day to life without Sarah Beth. But the pain and longing remained for their daily friendship.

  The urge to pray for Nick grew. The longer she waited, the more overpowering the need. What was wrong? Surely God wouldn’t take him too. Sarah Beth’s death had beaten her. If Nick was hurt, it would finish her off. She fought the need to pray. It was just her frazzled emotions.

  “Kaylan, are you all right?”

  Kaylan started, shifting the box in her arms as she ran into Mrs. Helms at the main doors. “Yes, Mrs. Helms. Fine. Just taking these things to the storage closet.”

  “Okay, then I’ll see you in church Sunday.” Mrs. Helms waved as she headed to her car.

  Kaylan trudged inside the church and headed for the storage closet. It hadn’t taken long after her talk with Mrs. Tucker for Kaylan to find something to do. Rhonda had called, and her blunt manner and dedication had finally roused Kaylan to find some way to help from the States. The moment she began working on Haiti relief, life took on a clearer focus—still fuzzy around the edges, yes, but at least she had made some progress.

  The Pantry Project, Kaylan’s idea, was well underway at the church. So far, two truckloads of supplies had been collected for Haiti relief. Kaylan slid the box onto a shelf, then stood back to survey the pantry. Almost full. Collecting the food had been the easy part. The hardest part of the project had been the comments she had to endure.

  “Kaylan, dear, I’m so sorry to hear what happened.”

  “Everything happens for a reason.”

  “Keep your chin up. It will get better.”

  “I’m here for you.”

  “Sarah Beth would want you to get on with your life.”

  “I was devastated when my dog died. I understand what you’re going through.” It took all of Kaylan’s control not to reply with an ugly retort and well-placed shove at this comment. Seth had taught her how to tackle, and she strongly considered using her skills.

  Kaylan took the comments in silence, thinking of ways she and Sarah Beth would have laughed and joked about the pitiful attempts at consolation.

  She couldn’t be in Haiti, but she could help in this small way. She hoped transportation on the ground in Haiti was better than when she had left. Reporters had arrived in the city while supplies sat on tarmacs unattended and forgotten. She touched a box of bottled water, thinking of the dusty faces after the quake, of haunted, dark eyes with no hope.

  After the quake she’d coped by helping every victim. Everyone had been Sarah Beth. She’d seen her blue eyes, her pink lips, hair she’d braided, lives she’d touched. She thought if this one was saved, then Sarah Beth would be all right. It never came true.

  Raising support and aiding the relief efforts was the equivalent. She felt Sarah Beth again; her hands helped Kaylan stack goods and box water bottles. She made jokes inside Kaylan’s thoughts as Kaylan packed medicine and mangled the medical terms.

  Kaylan ran her fingers over the smooth cardboard of one box. “I miss you, Bubbles. You should be here.”

  Another project came to mind from the year before. Sarah Beth had organized a food drive for low-income families in Tuscaloosa. During the summer months many students went hungry because school meals were no longer provided. Sarah Beth was determined to avoid this. Community members had donated canned goods, pasta, and fun drinks. Sarah Beth had been ecstatic.

  “Can you believe this, Kayles? It’s amazing! It actually worked.”

  “Well, you are quite persuasive, Bubbles. Who would tell those big, blue eyes, ‘no’?”

  “Good point. I might as well use them to my advantage.”

  Kaylan shoved her, laughing.

  “Seriously, Kayles, this is a total God thing.” They packed boxes of food while they talked. “I mean, some of these kids don’t think anyone loves them or cares. This brings them hope.”

  Kaylan picked up a box. “They’ll never forget this.”

  Sarah Beth slapped another Bible verse into
the finished box. “It’s like we’re being His hands and feet, you know? I mean, we can share the gospel all we want, but when it’s not accompanied by this, meeting needs, how can we be effective? How can we truly show them that Jesus loves them?”

  “Hands and feet of Jesus.” Her voice broke the silence, and she sank into the corner of the closet. “The people in Haiti are hopeless. This won’t even make a dent in the problems.”

  No, but it helps one. The answer whispered across the dark recesses of her soul, and she inhaled sharply. She hadn’t felt that in months. Peace. She remembered Rhonda’s coaching in Haiti after they’d lost a baby. Kaylan had been devastated and angry, much like now.

  “Kaylan, how do you finish a test?”

  “One question at a time.”

  Rhonda’s voice lowered to a whisper, burning with passion. “Kaylan, how do you change a country?”

  Recognition dawned in Kaylan. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “One life at a time.”

  “One life at a time, we will see Haiti changed. One mother understanding the intricacies of the life within her, one child knowing the love of two parents and a full belly, one father knowing how to provide for his family. One by one.”

  The urge hounded her again: to pray for Nick, to pray for Haiti, to find her way back, but she wasn’t ready. She imagined Nick’s blue eyes and strong presence. Her head pounded, and she closed her eyes, thankful for the cool, quiet recess. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

  She forced the words out of her mouth, breaking the stillness. “Lord, I know I haven’t spoken to You in a while, but I think something’s wrong with Nick. Whatever it is, please keep him safe. Don’t take him away from me. I can’t bear any more.”

  She hugged her legs and rested her forehead on her knees, remembering what she had felt after the earthquake, waiting for Sarah Beth to die, praying she wouldn’t. She rocked back and forth. She couldn’t take anymore. Darkness crept in, but panic didn’t follow. Instead, she felt a warm, unexplainable feeling course through her body and mind. Peace.

  Pap lumbered down the sidewalk, leaning on the cane. Kaylan grasped his other arm and prayed he wouldn’t fall. He had wanted to come outside, breathe fresh air and soak in the later winter sunshine. “Maybe we should go inside, Pap. It’s kind of cold out here.” After dropping off the supplies at the pantry, Kaylan had decided to drop in on her grandparents. Gran was off grocery shopping, but Pap welcomed the visit. He had slowed down since his mild stroke, but he refused to acknowledge it.

  “I’m old, but I’m not dead. I’m gonna die moving, although I don’t plan on doing that today. Now, quit your yapping and let me enjoy my walk.”

  “I don’t get it. Why do you push yourself so hard?”

  “Soon as you stop trying, you stop living.” Pap stared into her eyes, and she refused to look away. The snake that had reared its ugly head the last time they had visited the stables lay dormant. Kaylan wanted to try. She wanted to live. The bitterness, the anger, the pain—they were eating her alive. She wanted, no needed, to understand why her family still had hope, why Sarah Beth’s family still trusted the Lord wholeheartedly.

  She’d been raised to love the Lord. Until the earthquake, she would have said her faith was deep and growing. But after Sarah Beth’s death, she’d discovered her faith had shallow roots. It was depressing and discouraging. She didn’t know how to take her faith from where it currently existed back to the place she had perceived it to exist . . . or on to a deeper place.

  Pap pointed to the oak tree growing in his yard. “Sugar, you see that tree? What do you think made it grow so tall?”

  She studied the tree—unbending, unyielding, majestic.

  “Its roots are far-reaching and shallow. They suck the nutrients from the soil and push the tree taller.” Pap continued as they approached the back porch.

  Kaylan helped Pap to one of the wicker chairs. Gran’s lemonade waited in a crystal pitcher on the end table. “I thought all roots grew deep.”

  “There aren’t as many nutrients down deep, Sugar, at least not for an oak tree. Roots have to spread and grow, sometimes even past the canopy of the tree. The bigger the tree, the more widespread the roots. But all those shallow roots feed back into one big tap root, which penetrates deep into the earth and stabilizes the tree. No matter what shakes it, the tree doesn’t move because that tap root keeps it stable and strong. Both shallow roots and tap roots are necessary to grow and stabilize the tree.”

  Kaylan felt like her tap root was missing. She had been shaken and found wanting. Her roots had been too shallow to help her stand tall. Had she leaned too much on her family? On Sarah Beth?

  “My roots are messed up, Pap. I can’t handle any more.”

  Pap rose to his feet, gripping the chair until his cane was firmly in his hand. He waved off Kaylan’s help when she began to stand.

  “Sugar, I once heard that we turn to God for help when our foundations are shaking only to learn that it is God shaking them. So you might want to ask yourself why the Lord chose to shake your foundations. Look hard, in here.” He tapped his chest, right over his heart. “You might learn something.”

  He turned and hobbled into the house, leaving Kaylan alone and more confused than ever.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ALABAMA CALLED HIS name. Five weeks had passed since leaving Kaylan, and Nick missed her more than ever. He groaned as he rolled in bed. Every muscle hurt. He had taken hard hits before, but that explosion had severely bruised his back. He was back home in Coronado on medical leave until the doctor released him. It would be a week, maybe more, all while his team planned and trained harder than ever.

  They’d walked into a setup. He should have seen it from the beginning. Janus had killed the head of the terrorist group, and no one had so much as blinked. It was an execution of the worst kind: kill the leader to make way for another brutal, yet easily manipulated man, and take out those tracking her at the same time. They never expected IEDs to be buried around the bungalow. That lack of awareness spelled danger for his team. He was angry, boiling even. As much as he missed Kaylan, he wanted to hop the next plane to Russia and find the shrew.

  “Are you still wallowing?” Micah leaned against the doorframe, grimy from a day of training.

  “Nursing my enormous ego and bad temper. I’m just a little banged up.”

  “So, you aren’t currently pining away for a certain auburn-haired beauty in need of Prince Charming, however incapacitated he may be?”

  Nick threw his pillow at Micah.

  “Man, why don’t you go see her? You won’t be back at work for at least a week. They won’t even let you come into the office. Get out of here.”

  The idea was appealing, but he didn’t want Kaylan to see him like this. “It can wait until I’m fully back on my feet.”

  “What’s the problem? More male ego?”

  Nick met Micah’s eyes. “She just watched her best friend die and patched up half a city. She doesn’t need to see me and worry.”

  “Don’t you think that Kaylan is tough enough to handle it? If y’all are going to label this as a relationship, you better learn real quick that your problems are her problems, just as you’ve already adopted hers. Don’t handle this alone.”

  “I can’t tell her anything, man. Keeping secrets has never been so difficult.”

  “You tell her the truth. You’re a little banged-up but on the mend. A few days, and you’ll be as good as new.” Micah grinned, and Nick wondered what was coming next. “And you tell her that nothing gets a guy back on his feet more than the loving ministrations of the girl he adores. Tell her that, and you’re gold. She’ll forget you’re hurt.”

  Nick’s grin now matched Micah’s. “It’s that easy, huh?”

  “Well, you know, I have a world of experience in this area.”

  “Right. When I get back, we’ve got to find you a girl.”

  The dance studio hummed with the laughter of little girls an
d the memory of two best friends. Kaylan had applied to teach dance lessons until she left for her internship, assuming she was officially accepted. She had interviewed over Skype the week before with the San Diego Dietetics Program, and the head of the department informed her that she would most likely be accepted to the program. For now, though, she was back at her old summer job, doing something that reminded her of Sarah Beth every day. Her heart was still raw, and she still wasn’t sure how to heal.

  Little girls in tap shoes and tutus had filled her time with endless hours of distraction, but the studio was silent now. Kaylan held the keys to lock up. She drifted toward the small auditorium. She had performed her first ballet here, played Belle in Beauty and the Beast, and practiced with Sarah Beth. The empty stage mirrored her loneliness, the hole created when the star of the show leaves the spotlights after a breathtaking performance.

  She hadn’t danced since the night of Pap’s stroke. Pop music had blared through the practice room, and she and Sarah Beth had twirled in perfect rhythm, the picture of two girls now women who had lived a lifetime together. Neither one of them knew that lifetime was coming to an end.

  As she hit play on the sound board, Michael Bublé burst into song on the speakers in the auditorium. She slowly walked to the stage, dragging her fingers along the seats as she went. She didn’t know if she had anything left to give, anything worthy of the well-worn platform. She climbed the steps, hesitating before placing her foot on the polished wood panels. They were familiar friends.

  The strains wafted across the room, and Kaylan could almost see the orchestra as she heard the rich plucking of strings and the wailing of the saxophone. Notes drifted across the room, as if floating on a gentle breeze. Kaylan stood center stage, swaying, eyes closed. She could do this. It was another step back, another way to remember Sarah Beth and never let go. She couldn’t forget, wouldn’t forget. One more way to heal.