Eric pushed the memories away and stared out the window, searching for Clay's Jeep.
They'd told Josh the facts, that his uncle Clay had met up with the woman Eric had lived with. They'd told their son about Eric's time in New York before. But the blank look on Josh's face the other day told Eric that at eleven years old, his son still didn't quite understand. He seemed content that his parents were happy; nothing else mattered.
Josh was upstairs getting ready now; same with Laura.
A car pulled onto their street, but it was too small to be Clay's. Eric had to watch for them, had to see them pull up. Because unless he saw it for himself, he wouldn't believe it. Jamie Bryan? About to walk through his door? Not just Jamie, but Sierra. Sweet little Sierra, the little girl who captured his heart from the moment he woke up in a New York hospital with amnesia.
She would be … how old? Seven, at least.
The memories stirred in his soul, lifting and falling and taking wind like the last remains of autumn's fallen leaves.
Had it been three years since that final good-bye? He could see it all, feel the emotions from that day. The way he'd hugged Sierra in the entryway of her home, hours before his flight back to Los Angeles. He and Jamie had agreed to keep up the facade, pretending he was her daddy. She was too young to understand anything different. And so, in keeping with the act, he bid her good-bye the way he might've any other time. He played with her curls and at her request he promised to give her a horsie ride that night when he returned.
Only he never returned. Because by then he'd figured out who he was and where he belonged. Two hours later he stood in LaGuardia Airport telling Jamie good-bye, hugging her, holding her. Thanking her for helping him find his way back. They held hands until the last minute, when Laura appeared in the distance with a stream of passengers.
What he'd told Clay several weeks earlier had been right on. His physical healing, and the transformation in his life, had been only part of the miracle. The other part was that he'd been able to leave Jamie.
He felt someone behind him and he turned. “Laura.”
Her expression was pained. “Do you have to stand there waiting like that?” Her voice was soft, defeated. “She'll be here soon enough.”
“Hey.” He pulled away from the window and faced her. A quiet warmth filled his tone. “Laura … don't be like that. This isn't my fault.”
“It isn't anyone's fault. That's just it.” She hugged herself tight. “Fault doesn't change how I feel.”
He ran his knuckle along her brow. “How do you feel?”
“Scared.” Her answer was quick, pointed. “Sometimes scared to death.”
“Ah, Laura …” His heart went out to her. Of course she was anxious. The whole situation was too strange to believe. He brushed a piece of her blonde hair off her face and touched his lips to hers. “Clay met a woman and fell in love. The woman happened to be Jamie Bryan. It has nothing to do with you and me, okay? Don't be afraid.”
“I'm trying not to, Eric.” She looked straight to his heart. “You lived with her for three months. I keep thinking …” She hesitated and lifted her hands. “I don't know. I keep thinking you must've been in love with her.” Defeat colored her eyes again. “I picture you spending that much time with another woman and I can't help but wonder what it was like. Not just the physical stuff, but the emotional connection.”
He ached for the pain in her eyes. This was the road they never traveled, the one that took him back in time to Jamie Bryan. He'd been honest with her from the beginning, but once he'd shared the details, he locked them away in a place he never intended to go again. Over the years, when she expressed doubts about that time in his life, he quickly dismissed them.
But now …
“Laura.” He took gentle hold of her shoulders. “I kept nothing from you. Yes …” He swallowed, praying she would believe him. Grateful it was the truth. “We kissed a few times, but nothing more. Neither of us wanted to be intimate unless I remembered.”
“But you must've loved her, Eric. Or at least felt like you loved her.”
This was the hard part. What was love, really? Eric leaned against the windowpane. “I thought I was her husband; I allowed myself to believe I loved her.” He hung his head and rubbed the muscles in his neck. When he looked up he exhaled hard. “I thought it was the right thing, Laura. Whatever it was, God used it for good. But you know how I feel. I left Jamie planning to never look back.”
She held his eyes for a long time. Then she nodded, her expression still troubled, but less doubtful. “Okay.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Maybe it's a bad case of morning sickness.” She blew a wisp of hair off her forehead. “Anyway, Josh is still in the shower. I have to finish my makeup.” She bit her lip. “I don't want to be out here when they pull up.”
He waited until she was gone, then he turned around and looked out the window. If only the memories weren't so vivid. How many times after they knew the truth about his blood type, and before he realized who he was, had she looked in his eyes and told him what she was feeling.
That sometimes she hoped he would stay forever and never find his way back.
He drew in a sharp breath and sat on the edge of the windowsill.
After he left her, it was all he could do to put her out of his mind. God had given him the best way. He prayed for her. It wasn't something he talked about with anyone but God, but it was the least he could do. The least and the most.
Daily, hourly sometimes, he prayed that Jamie and Sierra would survive the loss of first Jake, and then him, his presence in their lives. That Jamie would grow strong in her new faith and lean on Christ when she wasn't sure she could make it through another day. And that ultimately, one day—if her heart allowed it—she might find someone else to love.
That was the most amazing part. All those prayers, all that time when he asked God to take care of Jamie, he still could hardly let himself believe this was the answer he'd prayed about. His own brother? A chill passed over his arms. God … Your ways are so far beyond ours. Get us through this day, please. Let it be okay with everyone. For Clay's sake … and Jamie's.
Be still … and know that I am God.
What? Eric stood up. He leaned against the window frame and closed his eyes. The response was so quick, so clear. Often when he prayed, he had a sense, a knowing that the Lord wanted him to do one thing or another. But this time …
The answer had been audible. Maybe not in the way most people might hear it. But no question someplace in his soul Eric had heard the words. Be still and know that I am God. It was a verse he'd learned first from Jake Bryan's Bible. During his days of amnesia, it had taught Eric he couldn't rush God, couldn't force himself to remember. Rather, he was to be still and let God do the work.
Now God was calling him to that again. Be still and wait; and know that whatever happened that day, God was in control.
His mouth was dry, his heart heavy with the weight of his memories. He went to the kitchen, put the kettle on, and grabbed a mug. A cup of coffee would help clear the cobwebs. After a few minutes the water came to a boil, and just as he poured his cup, he heard a knock at the door and the sound of it opening.
“Eric?” Clay's happy voice didn't sound forced, but it wasn't quite natural either.
No wonder. Clay couldn't help but feel the strain of the situation, same as the rest of them. “Coming.” He left his coffee on the counter and headed for the front door.
Clay was just walking through the door. “Jamie's getting something from the car.” He stepped inside.
Behind him came Sierra. A taller, older version of Sierra.
She saw him and there was a flicker of recognition. “Hi, Mr. Michaels.” Her chin stayed tucked close to her chest, her eyes shy and nervous.
Eric's throat was thick. Too thick to speak. She was different now, not the same sprite she'd been as a four-year-old. This Sierra was more mature, touched by sorrow. He held out his arms. “Hi, Sierra.”
With slow
, uncertain steps she came and hugged him. Then she looked into his eyes and smiled. “My mom told me about when you lived with us.” Her eyes softened and in them was a hint of the Sierra he'd so easily loved as a daughter. “I understand now.”
“Sierra understands a lot.” Clay stood a few feet away, his eyes damp.
At the sound of Clay's voice, Sierra lit up, skipped across the room, and took Clay's hand. Suddenly she was just a taller version of the girl Eric had known. “We have to tell him about Wrinkles and the jester hat, okay?”
Eric blinked. What was this? Sierra barely remembered him, but Clay … clearly she was taken with him. A strange sort of pain seared Eric's heart, but only for an instant. This was what he had prayed for. It was right. The little Sierra, the one he gave butterfly kisses to, was gone forever. She had never belonged to him in the first place, but to her father, Jake Bryan.
And by the way things looked, this new Sierra belonged to Clay.
Footsteps sounded in the doorway, and Eric felt his heart stand still. Jamie walked in, looking exactly as he remembered her, and her eyes found his. In her hands was a thick bouquet of orange and yellow flowers. She hesitated. “These are for you and Laura.” Her voice was thick.
He remembered enough to know she was on the verge of tears. His eyes looked deep into hers, to the places they'd shared together. “Thanks.” There was a sound from upstairs. “Laura'll be down in a minute.”
“Good. I'm anxious to meet her.”
Eric shifted his weight. He wasn't sure what to do, whether to go to her the way he wanted to, tell her he was so glad she'd survived the past few years. Or whether to keep his distance.
In the end she made the first move. She set the flowers down near the door and erased the years between them in a single heartbeat. Her arms came around his neck and he held her. It was not a hug borne of passion, but of pain. A hug that allowed them to say everything they couldn't voice, everything that only the two of them would ever understand. And for a handful of seconds, they were the only two in the room.
When he took a step back, her eyes were bright with tears. But she uttered a sound that was mostly laugh. “Can you believe this?” She laughed again and wiped at her eyes.
“No.” He cleared his throat, trying to push his words past his emotions. “I knew I wouldn't believe it until you walked through the door.”
“Me neither.” She took his hands, squeezed them once and let go. “It's amazing.”
“It is.” And that's when he noticed it. There was something different about her. Something in her easy smile, a depth in her eyes. Then it hit him.
She was at peace.
In their short time together, he'd never seen her like this. First, because she was so determined to help him remember that he was Jake; next, because of the doubts that eventually crept in; and finally because she had to help him find his real identity. Even in the end, when she'd found faith in Christ and strength enough to let him go, even when she told him good-bye at LaGuardia, she wasn't at peace. Not like she was now.
He returned her smile. As strange as things were, this … this meeting again was going to be okay. He could feel it in his soul.
The moment changed. Memories faded and yesterday melted away. Eric took another step back and felt himself being brought back to the present. The entire exchange with Jamie had taken no more than a few seconds, and now he turned his attention to Clay. “Hey, brother. Glad you're here.” He shook Clay's hand and grinned. “You know Laura's turkeys.”
“Okay, I heard my name.” Laura was at the top of the stairs, with Josh behind her. Her voice sounded as bright and sunny as she looked. Gone were the doubts and fears from her eyes. In their place was the confidence Eric loved. Confidence and cheerfulness and an underlying determination that she would not play victim that day.
She took the stairs with a spring in her step, hugged Clay, and then smiled first at Sierra, then at Jamie. “I'm Laura.” She put her hand on Jamie's shoulder. “I'm glad you could come.”
Whatever Laura had done upstairs must've involved more than makeup and mirrors. For this sort of transformation, she probably spent most of the time on her knees. Eric's love for her swelled. You go, Laura. Thata girl.
Jamie picked up the flowers and handed them to her. “These are for you.” She gave Laura a warm smile. “Thanks … for making us feel welcome.”
“Well—” she returned the smile, utterly genuine—“I imagine God brought us together to be friends.”
“Yes.” Jamie's eyes were wet again. “I think so too.”
Laura turned to Josh. “This is Josh, he's eleven.”
“Hi.” Jamie shook his hand. “You have a nice home here.” She smiled at Clay and reached for Sierra's hand. “This is my daughter, Sierra.”
Laura put her hands on her knees and stooped down. “Sierra. What a pretty name.” She angled her head. “I'm glad you're here.”
Sierra returned to her place by Clay. “Thank you.”
From where he stood, Eric watched the whole thing, beaming. He looked around the room at Clay and Sierra, Jamie and Laura and Josh and suddenly Laura looked at him, a look that lingered. Her eyes sparkled and in her smile he saw something. It wasn't an act. Laura was okay. Despite all the worry she was going to be fine.
In fact, they all were.
TWENTY-SIX
He was still the mirror image of Jake.
From the moment she walked through Eric Michaels's door, that was what surprised Jamie most of all. She had expected him to look different, as if maybe now that his injuries were completely healed, now that his burns had faded from his face and arms, he would have his own look.
An Eric Michaels look.
But the resemblance between him and Jake was uncanny, amazing. Same face and build, same dark hair and blue eyes. When she walked through the door and saw him, it was all she could do to keep from gasping. She had wanted to run to Clay, take his hand, and lean on him for support, but she had to deal with the man standing before her.
Seeing Eric was like seeing a ghost.
Within her, though, she felt God at work, felt Him leading her through the moment, giving her perspective, and reminding her of the truth. Eric wasn't Jake. That truth came quick and served as a lead rope while she blindly walked through those first few minutes.
It wasn't until she met Laura that the swirling emotions in her heart settled. Laura was wonderful. Kind and upbeat, content with the situation in a way that was surprising. Jamie had wondered several times how difficult it must've been for her, how strange she would've felt if the tables were turned. If Jake had disappeared for three months only to resurface a victim of amnesia and having lived with another woman all that time.
But Laura seemed at ease, warm and welcoming. She was pretty, fair skinned with blonde hair and sparkling eyes. Their son, Josh, was a mix between his mother and father. He had her coloring and wider cheekbones rather than Eric's chiseled face. But what struck Jamie the most about him was his easy smile, his comfortable expression. If this boy had been neglected by Eric before September 11, it was impossible to tell now. He was obviously a happy, well-adjusted child. For some reason, that struck a chord of hope in Jamie.
Because in a very clear way, Josh Michaels's life was different because of what God did through Jake. The words in Jake's journal, and the power of the highlighted sections in Jake's Bible, had changed Eric. In the process, they'd changed Josh too.
It was part of Jake's legacy, really. Seeing that in person was far more powerful than she'd ever imagined.
Despite the dozens of thoughts and memories and observations fighting for position in Jamie's mind, she felt comfortable at the Michaels' home. The morning flew by, and Jamie found the most comfortable place—the spot next to Clay. Clay, not Eric, had captured her heart. She knew that now. Otherwise she never would've been able to sit at a table opposite the man who had lived with her and played the role of her husband, a man who so easily could've been Jake, and want nothing m
ore than to savor every minute with Clay.
“I can't believe this is November.” Jamie leaned just enough so that her arm occasionally brushed against Clay's. “It feels like summer.”
“Sometimes I wish we had seasons.” Laura gripped the arms of her chair and angled her face toward the sun. “But I don't wish it for long.” She held her hands out with palms up as if she were weighing something. “Let's see … eight degrees on Thanksgiving Day or eighty degrees … piles of snow and ice or green grass and sunscreen.” She grinned at Jamie. “I'll take Southern California.”
Eric was inside peeling potatoes. Jamie, Clay, and Laura sat around the backyard patio table, watching the kids toss a Frisbee. Sierra hadn't played with one before, and more than once the plastic disc hit her in the head, but not hard enough to hurt her.
“Clay, guess what?” Sierra giggled in their direction. “I think I need the jester hat. You know why?”
“Why?” Clay leaned forward, his eyes dancing the way they did whenever he and Sierra teased each other. There was no denying how much he cared for her.
“'Cause then the Frisbee would hit the hat instead of my head.”
Clay chuckled. “Or maybe a helmet might help.” He stood and jogged out to Sierra's side. “Here, let me show you how to catch it.” With his hand up in front of his face, he nodded to Josh. “Okay, bucko, show me what you got!”
Grinning, Josh flung it four times as hard as before. “Take that!”
The phone rang, and Eric must've answered it in the house. He came to the door, opened the screen, and handed it to Laura. “It's Gina.” His eyes caught Jamie's for a minute, and he gave her a hesitant smile, checking, maybe, to see if she and Laura were still hitting it off.
Jamie gave him a knowing look. Yes, she was fine. Laura was easy to be around. Eric looked out at the yard. “Way to throw it, Josh. Uncle Clay won't last; he wears down easy.” Eric winked at his brother. “Hey, Clay, if he wears you out come join me in the kitchen.” Then he turned, shut the door, and disappeared into the house.
Jamie sat back in her chair. Laura's conversation seemed deep, as if maybe the Gina woman, whoever she was, had troubling news. Clay was caught up in what had now become Frisbee golf. Jamie stood and stretched, then went to the edge of the patio and called out to Clay. “I'm going to make some tea. Want some?”
Beyond Tuesday Morning Page 26
