Maybe she'd acted too quickly that night by hugging Clay; maybe it would be years before she was ready to fall in love with someone new. But if Jake were standing here now he would tell her it was time to step out of the darkness, time to turn away from death and destruction.
Time to choose life.
Now Jamie had only one question for God. How? She dug her elbows into her knees. Should she leave St. Paul's? Invest her time somewhere other than memorializing the victims of September 11?
Find someone new to share her life?
The options were overwhelming.
She stood and set the Bible back on the dresser. Maybe she should call Sue, ask her what she thought of the verse. It was late, but Sue was a night owl. She'd still be up. Jamie was about to pick up the phone when it rang. The unexpected sound of it made her jump back.
Caller ID told her it was from a cell phone. Clay Miles. It couldn't be anyone else.
She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi.” The smile in his voice sounded over the phone lines. “I know it's late, but I had two things.”
“Okay.” She felt herself smile, felt her eyes lighten and the burden lift from her shoulders. “Tell me.”
“First, I got a call from one of the guys on the department. He had a bunch of Broadway tickets donated to the police force; they had three left for The Lion King, and I snagged 'em. It's Friday night. I thought you and Sierra might want to join me.”
“Lion King? At the Amsterdam Theater?” Four different times Jamie had looked into tickets for Sierra, but the show was sold out months in advance. “Are you kidding?”
“Serious. They're orchestra level, ten rows from the stage.”
“Clay!” She did a light scream. “Sierra will flip!”
He laughed. “I had a feeling. How about we head into the city about five o'clock. That way we can get some pizza before the show. Sound like a plan?”
Jake's words came flying at her. Choose life, Jamie … whenever you have the chance, choose life. “Yes, Clay.” Happy tears stung at her eyes and she swallowed against the thickness in her throat. “A wonderful plan.”
They made a decision to have lunch the next day, then hung up. Jamie stared out the bedroom window at the shadowy bare trees, swaying in the early winter night. The timing of Clay's call was unbelievable. There she'd been, overwhelmed with the idea of choosing life, of moving on. What did it look like and where should she start? She smiled, the tide of sorrow waning. Most of her questions were still unanswered, but at least she knew what she was going to do first.
She would take in The Lion King on Broadway with Clay and Sierra.
God would show her what to do after that.
EIGHTEEN
Sierra had barely enough time to talk to God when she got home from school.
Clay was taking them to Lion King! The real live Lion King! She bounced into her bedroom and found Wrinkles on her bed.
“Wrinkles, guess what?”
The cat yawned and stretched out his skinny arms. He didn't look that interested. Sierra dropped down on the edge and rubbed the soft fur between his ears. “Clay's taking us to Lion King, can you believe it?”
Wrinkles looked at her and blinked. Sierra did a big breath because maybe that cat was jealous. Or maybe he didn't understand. But God would, so she closed her eyes super-duper tight and tried to be serious. Only instead a squeally sort of laugh came from her mouth, so she jumped up and danced around the room until she bumped into the wall.
Then she settled down. Settle down is what Mommy said when she had a little too much energy. “God … Clay's taking us to Lion King! Isn't that the bestest news in the whole wide world?”
Of course God didn't talk to her like her friend, Katy, or like her mommy would. But she could feel Him listening all the same. She licked her dry lips and did a smaller, shorter dance. “I think I like that Clay, God. Thanks for letting him meet Mommy on the boat when he saved her life from the bad guys.”
She opened her eyes and gasped. She didn't have a nice dress picked out yet, and Mommy said to hurry. The closet had six nice dresses in it, so she picked out the frilliest and prettiest one, the one with blue and white and ruffles and a big bow in the back. Then her white socks with the lacy tops, the ones Wrinkles wore the other day.
Speedy fast she was ready and running down the stairs. That's when she stopped, because Clay was already there and he and Mommy were smiling at each other. Real quick she added a P.S. for God, because she had something else to say. But this time she said it in her head so Mommy and Clay wouldn't hear her. God … I know Clay lives in California, but maybe he could change his mind and live here. Because he would make a nice second daddy, don't You think? A second daddy like James has? Please think about it, God. Thanks.
Clay looked up at her. “Don't you look pretty.”
“Thank you.” She did a curtsy, the kind she and her mommy did when they played princess. “And you look like Prince Charming.” He really did. He was tall and he had blond hair and his eyes looked like Prince Charming in the movie.
Clay did a prince-type bow and smiled at her. “That's very nice of you, Sierra.”
Her mommy covered her mouth and laughed. Then she made smiling eyes at Sierra and said it was time to go. The trip into the city was the longest in the world. It felt like the week before Christmas because it lasted forever. But finally they ate their pizza and took a cab to the theater and went inside. The theater was the prettiest place in the world, with fancy decorations on the walls and ceilings and even the floor and seats.
They walked down toward the front until Mommy said, “This is it.”
Sierra went down the row first, then Mommy, then Clay. She wanted to stand up and dance around a little because this was the real Lion King! Instead her stomach did the dance by itself, twisting and jumping and proving how much excitement she had inside her. Plus also her head and shoulders did some moving and turning and looking at the other people and then her knees got involved.
Mommy leaned close to her. “Sit still, Sierra. Young ladies sit still at the theater.”
Sierra already knew that because Mommy took her here to see Annie once. But because of Lion King getting ready to start, she forgot. “Okay, Mommy. Sorry.”
“It's okay.” Her mommy smiled. “You're excited.”
“I'm so excited, Mommy. My tummy and head and shoulders and even my knees are excited.”
Clay leaned over Mommy's legs. “That's exactly how I feel.” He gave a nice nod, then he looked at Mommy. “I might need a reminder about sitting still too.”
Sierra giggled, and just then the lights went out. A squeal started to come from her mouth, but she smacked her hand over her lips and looked at her mother with a quick look that said she wouldn't squeal again. Promise.
But she definitely did a lot of gasps.
The giraffes came up the aisles around them, and the lions covered the stage, and painted people were singing in the trees, and more of them from someplace near the ceiling, and it was all so amazing she could hardly stand it. A dancing person started singing “Circle of Life,” and that's when the most amazing thing of all happened.
In the corner of her eyeball she saw Clay holding Mommy's hand. And that's when she was sure she would remember this night all the way until forever.
The moment Clay arrived at her house, Jamie knew the truth. No matter what she'd told herself the night before about jumping in too quickly or being ashamed of herself for her attraction to him, seeing him in person told the real story.
There was no turning back.
If she was going to choose life, if she was going to embrace it, then she couldn't berate herself for hugging a man whose company she enjoyed. Never mind whether they ever saw each other again after these three weeks, for now all she wanted was to be with him. When he walked through the door, their eyes met. They stood there, looking at each other. Then—almost in slow motion—they came together in another hug. Not the sorrow
ful hug of the night before, but a hug of friendship and promise and something that defied time and reason.
A hug she neither regretted nor wanted to end.
Conversation had been light and upbeat since then, with Sierra providing the main source of dialogue. From her perspective, everything about the city was super bright and super busy and super big. She talked about all of it right until they took their seats.
It was when the music started, when the fullness of it surrounded them and swept them away on the story, that Clay reached out and took her hand. At first she expected him to squeeze her fingers or pat them, his way of telling her he was glad they were getting a chance to see the show, glad they were together.
But then he eased his fingers between hers, and the sensation sent a tingling feeling all the way to her knees. She was afraid to look at him, afraid the emotions tossing her soul around would be too transparent. Instead she focused on the way her fingers felt against his, the warmth of his large hand covering her smaller one.
The play was amazing.
She'd heard people say that The Lion King was in its own category theatrically, that nothing compared to it, and they were right. The costumes, the singing, the sets, it was more than Jamie could've imagined. Once in a while she looked at Sierra, and always her daughter's eyes were wide and dancing, her mouth slightly open. She neither talked nor fidgeted, mesmerized by the experience.
And through it all, Clay held her hand.
At the part where Simba, the young lion king, meets up with his old childhood girlfriend, Nala, and the two sing about feeling the love in the air that night, Clay ran his thumb over hers. Tears stung at Jamie's eyes, though she wasn't sure why. Whether it was because she and Jake had been childhood friends … or because that very night love, or something like it, was indeed in the air. And it had nothing to do with Jake.
Then when Mufasa's memory spoke to Simba, Jamie felt tears again. The message was the same as what she'd read in Deuteronomy. What Jake had written to her in the margins of his Bible. Loss was part of the package of living, but the fighter remains. He fights the good fight, he gets back in the ring, he never gives up.
He chooses life.
Jamie's heart almost broke when the play ended. Not because the story was so moving, so brilliantly performed. But because when the lights went up, Clay released her hand. Probably for Sierra's benefit. The two of them hadn't had time to talk about what was happening between them, let alone involve Sierra.
On the way home she was more aware of him, the way he walked beside her, his arm brushing against hers, how he sat next to her in the cab, their legs touching. Once in a while she'd catch him watching her. Their eyes would meet and hold, and she'd feel the tingling again, a floating sensation that made her look down to see if her feet were still on the ground.
Back at the house, they went through the nighttime ritual with Sierra, and this time Clay took her hand and Sierra's and offered to pray.
“God, thank You for a wonderful night. Thanks for singing and music and drama.” He paused. “And stories that touch our hearts.”
Jamie was supposed to have her eyes closed, but she couldn't. She kept them open just enough so she could watch Clay, the way he bowed his head and prayed so easily, with a heart for God alone. She'd missed this with Jake, the praying. The thought shot a quick burst of pain into her heart, but it faded as Clay continued.
“You have a plan for each of us. A good plan. Help us keep our eyes open so we won't miss it. Thank You, Lord. Amen.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Help us keep our eyes open so we won't miss it? Was he talking about her, the two of them? She didn't ask, and a few minutes later they were downstairs fixing snacks.
The atmosphere remained easy, uncomplicated throughout the evening. They watched country music videos and played backgammon—with Clay winning five out of seven. Jamie told him that Wanda had called her the night before. Joe finally had a chance to meet her children, and when he saw her little boy he broke down.
“I guess he looks exactly like the boy they lost.” Jamie bit her lip. “The kids went upstairs, and Joe wept. The thing was, Wanda didn't know what to do with him. She hadn't drawn comfort from him when their son was killed, and now she didn't know how to give him comfort.”
Clay frowned. “Tough for both of them.”
“But get this.” Jamie dropped the dice she'd been fiddling with, her eyes locked on his. “Joe apologized. He sat her down and even through his tears he told her he was sorry for walking out, for not being there for her when she needed him most.”
“Wow.” Clay crossed his arms. “God's doing something between those two.”
“Definitely.” She looked at the game board. “But I guess he left with things still awkward. Wanda asked me to pray for something to happen, something that will help them break the bonds of the past so they can find a new way to relate to each other.”
The conversation switched to the carjacker Clay had to shoot, and a handful of other calls—gang fights and domestic violence and drug busts—runs that had taken all of his training to pull off.
It was the first time Jamie considered the danger of his job. Just as dangerous as Jake's had been—more so, in some ways.
Her reaction was proof she was different now; she wasn't afraid for him. Whether he remained her friend or something more, she would never again live in fear for the safety of someone she cared about. Besides, like Jake, Clay loved God. And that was enough. Every day when he hit the streets he put on two kinds of armor. His bulletproof vest, and the armor of God.
Fear couldn't add anything to that.
He closed the game board and dug his shoulder into the back of the sofa. “So tell me about you, Jamie. Other than St. Paul's and playing dress-up, what do you do? Hobbies? Sports? Jester training?”
She giggled. “Definitely jester training.” Her smile eased. The question was harder than it seemed. What did she do with her time, after all? “I like to jet ski.” An image of Jake and her flying across the water filled her mind. She willed it to disappear. “And I used to take a ceramics class. You know, pottery, painting little statues, that kind of thing.”
“Not anymore?” Clay angled his head, his expression mildly curious.
“No.” She made a slight lift of her shoulders. “I haven't gotten back into it, I guess.”
“What about the jet skiing?”
She looked at her hands. He wasn't probing, really. Just learning more about her, maybe learning more about how far she'd come since losing Jake. Her eyes met his again. “Not as much as before.”
A knowing filled his eyes. “It was something you did with Jake?”
“Yes.”
He winced a bit. “Sorry … I wasn't … I didn't mean to bring up something that …”
“Something about Jake?” Her heart hit another level of respect for the man across from her. On top of everything else, he was compassionate.
“I guess.” He exhaled through pursed lips. “Sorry.”
;“Don't be.” She hesitated. “For the rest of my life Jake's name will come up. It has to; I shared twenty years with him.” Her voice softened. She was letting Clay see a part of her that few people saw. “At first, after September 11, I couldn't talk about him without breaking down.” She tucked her feet beneath her. “What happened to Jake will always be sad, but I can talk about him now.” She lifted the corners of her mouth. “Time does that to you.”
“You loved him very much, didn't you?” He set the game board on the floor and slid closer.
“Yes.” She shifted her gaze to the chair across the room, the one that had been Jake's. “His memory is always with me.” A Shania Twain song came on the television, a love song that lent an intimacy to the moment. She looked at him again. “And you, Clay? What hearts have you broken?”
“Not many.” He chuckled and shifted so his back was against the sofa. Only a few inches separated them. “The LA girls I've met don't have hearts; just brains and beauty.�
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“New Yorkers can be that way too.”
“I'm sure.” His laugh was slow and easy. “Actually, there was one girl, someone I met in high school.”
She studied him, the way his eyes didn't change when he talked about the girl. Whoever she was, Jamie guessed she no longer had a hold on Clay Miles. “Did you date her?”
“No. We were friends. In fact—” his light chuckle made her smile—“she married my brother.”
Jamie raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yep.” He sounded comfortable, as if whatever pain had been involved no longer hurt him.
“Did it make things hard between you and your brother?”
“No.” Clay looked straight ahead at the wall. “My brother's a nice guy. They're happy together; she belongs with him. Besides …”
She waited, but when he didn't finish his thought she had to know. “Besides what?”
He turned to her and searched her eyes. “She never made me feel like this.”
And there it was.
The admission they knew was coming. The special something that had been between them from the moment they met was now out in the open. Her pulse picked up speed. What was she supposed to do? How could she respond when she was blind as a bat in the ways of new love?
She looked down; her hands were trembling. “I … I've felt it since the ferryboat.” Her eyes met his again. “I thought it was just me.”
“It's not.” He took her hand, and worked his fingers between hers. “It's crazy; I haven't known you a week.” She understood the bafflement in his tone, felt it herself. “But I feel something with you I've never felt before.”
They were quiet for a while. Tim McGraw was singing something slow and pretty, and Jamie felt no need to talk. What would they say? Regardless of their feelings, he would go back to California in two weeks.
Beyond Tuesday Morning Page 19
