Tuesday Morning Collection, The: One Tuesday Morning, Beyond Tuesday Morning, Remember Tuesday Morning

by Kingsbury, Karen

  Suddenly, from the deepest part of her heart, memories began to surface. Memories she'd all but forgotten in the years since Eric graduated with his doctorate and took the job with Koppel and Grant.

  For the first time in years, Laura didn't order the memories back where they belonged. Instead, she returned her Bible to the nightstand drawer, turned off the lights, and sat there in the dark, willing back everything about Eric Michaels and a love that began the fall of her junior year at Canoga Park High School.

  Laura halted the memories for a moment. If she was going to go back, she might as well go all the way. Back to the summer of 1974, when she was just three years old. That was the year Laura was taken away from her parents and placed in a foster home. Laura didn't understand it at the time, but later she was shown copies of the court records.

  Her parents had operated a methamphetamine lab in the backyard of their Topanga Canyon home, and four times they'd been arrested for making and selling illegal drugs. Always they paid fast-talking lawyers and were given stiff fines and another chance. But on the fifth arrest, the judge was finished with them. The two were given twenty years to life and sent to separate penitentiaries. Their parental rights to Laura were severed permanently, and she was put up for adoption within California's social services system.

  Laura's foster parents applied to adopt her, but a year later, they divorced and changed their minds. Laura lived in a series of state homes until she was seven, when a family in Canoga Park, just west of Los Angeles, agreed to take Laura as part of a foster-adopt program.

  The Paige family was large and multicultural with four birth children and four adopted—two Hispanic and two Romanian. Laura was the family's ninth child, but with so many children in the house, Laura rarely received one-on-one time with her adoptive parents. They were kind Christian people, but there was no getting around the camplike atmosphere that pervaded their home.

  Years passed, and Laura Paige was a freshman at Canoga Park High School when she walked into second period health class and took the only empty seat in the room. Beside her, half-hidden behind a stack of books, was a blonde boy with glasses.

  He poked his head around the stack and smiled at her. “Hi. Remember me?”

  Laura had felt herself blush from the roots of her hair to below her neck. The boy looked familiar, but the two of them had never talked. And the teacher had already started talking.

  When she said nothing, the boy continued. “I'm Clay Michaels. We're in leadership club together. Remember? At lunch the other day?”

  Before she could answer, the teacher walked up to them. His eyes were narrow and angry. “There'll be no talking in class. Not now or at any time during the school year.” He boomed the words and looked directly at Clay. “Is that understood?”

  Clay's face had gone red. He slouched behind the books and leveled his gaze toward the front of the room. A few guys nearby shot him silent smirks. Laura dismissed the entire incident. She'd been a shy, academic girl who ran with the smart kids in Honor Society and after-school study sessions. The kids with a life outside the social circles at Canoga Park High. She had nothing more than a passing interest in boys—even one in leadership class.

  Still, they had several classes together, and by the end of that year, Laura and Clay were friends. Sure, once in a while he'd pass her in the hallway and wave. But other than that he made no attempt to ask her out or make more of their friendship. That was fine with Laura. She knew there was nothing remarkable about her. She didn't bounce around the school giggling about Friday night football games. She had no desire whatsoever to be a cheerleader. Her single goal in life was to work hard enough to earn a scholarship to a local state college. Then maybe get a teaching credential and work with children.

  Boys and dating and relationships could all wait. And when it was time, she doubted she'd fall in love with someone like Clay Michaels, someone shy and awkward who had never even made her heartbeat quicken. No, she'd find someone she felt passionate about, who would dote on her and treasure her and be her very own.

  Someone who made her heart stand still. And that someone definitely wasn't Clay Michaels.

  Then, in the fall of their junior year, things changed.

  This time Laura and Clay shared a math class, and Laura began to notice something. Clay had changed. He was wearing contact lenses, and he'd not only gotten taller, but he'd filled out. He'd never been athletic in the years she'd known him, but that year he looked like he was lifting weights. And something else, something about the way he carried himself. A confidence she hadn't noticed before.

  At the end of the first week, when Clay suggested they study together, Laura's heart beat a bit faster than before.

  Laura thought about it for a moment. “You mean here? After school?”

  “No.” The look in Clay's eyes was deeper than before. “I mean at my house.” He shrugged. “I have a car. We could study together once a week, and I could give you a ride home.”

  “What's in it for me?” Laura was playing with him, but only in part. For the first time since she'd known him, she liked the idea of spending time with Clay Michaels. It sounded more fun than studying alone.

  “For you?” Clay's mouth hung open. “Uh …” He broke into a quick grin. “I'll make you laugh … I'll sing and dance for you.” His smile faded, and he tossed his hands in the air. “Ah, come on, Laura. We'll be better together.”

  Laura laughed at his pitiful expression. “Fine.”

  For eight weeks she and Clay spent Monday afternoons at his house working on math, and not once did Laura ever guess he had an older brother. The house was modest and sparsely decorated, and when Laura met Clay's mother, she was cordial but distant. Laura guessed something wasn't entirely right with Clay's family, but she didn't know him well enough to ask.

  The one time she met Clay's father, she was struck by two main details. First, the man was strikingly handsome, and second, he was as nonverbal as his wife. Laura and Clay were finishing up a session of algebra when he opened the front door, hung his jacket in the closet, and turned to them.

  “Clay.” The man said, then he gave a single nod of his head. “I assume this is your study partner.”

  “Yes, Father.” Clay stood and cast a nervous glance toward Laura. “This is Laura.”

  “Laura.” Clay's father nodded again. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, sir.” Laura remained seated and waited for him to approach Clay, hug him, or ask him about his day. The man did none of those things.

  “Is he mad at you?” Laura whispered when Clay's father left the room and walked upstairs.

  “Who?” A blank look fell across Clay's face. “My dad? No.” He hesitated. “My parents have a lot on their minds.”

  “Is everything okay?” She hated asking.

  Clay kept his voice barely more than a whisper. “They're getting divorced.” He blinked, and a kind of raw pain filled his eyes that hadn't been there before. “It'll be final in a month.”

  “Oh.” Laura bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  Clay shrugged. “That's okay.” He managed a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. “Everyone thinks it'll be better when it's over.”

  The next week Laura met Eric.

  She and Clay were working on a series of word problems when a young, handsome replica of Clay's father walked through the front door. Laura had a clear shot of him from her place at the dining room table, and her breath caught in her throat. Whoever he was, he waved at them and headed for the kitchen.

  Clay caught her expression, and his smile fell just a notch. “Girls always act like that when they see Eric for the first time.” He planted his elbows on the table and cocked his head. “Now, how come your eyebrows don't rise like that when I walk in the room?”

  “Eric?”

  “Yes.” Clay set his pencil down. “He's a junior at Cal State Northridge, point guard for the basketball team, headed for USC business school when he graduates. He's also one of the top
golfers at the school, and he'll have his doctorate before he's twenty-five—all of it on scholarship.” Clay chuckled. “I've looked up to him since before I could walk.”

  They were still working on their last math problem when Eric sauntered into the room and came up behind them. “Separate those last two numbers from the rest and make it a two-part problem. Once you've got answers for each part, divide the first part into the second.”

  “Actually,” Laura slid her chair back and faced him, “once we have answers for both parts, we multiply the answers. The solution to a division problem involving fractions is always multiplication. Even in algebraic formulas.”

  Eric glanced at the problem in the book once more and then back at Laura. “I'm Eric.” He held out his hand and smiled at her. “I don't believe we've met.”

  Laura was suddenly tongue-tied. “I … I'm Laura Paige.”

  “Well …” Eric gave Clay a lighthearted punch in the shoulder. “If you're dating my brother, you better be good to him.”

  Just as Laura was shaking her head, Clay slipped his arm around her shoulders. “She is.” He shifted so that his eyes connected with hers. “She's great.”

  “That's good.” He spoke to Clay, but his eyes never left hers. “Take care of her … she's a good one.”

  Up close Eric was breathtaking, and Laura could barely focus on the conversation. Again she couldn't think of a thing to say, so she grinned like the ditzy girls at school. When Eric left the room, she slid her chair back up to the table. This time the blush felt like it went clear to her toes. The moment Eric was gone she realized something.

  For just a moment, her heart had stood still.

  Clay removed his arm from her shoulders and stared at her. “You like him.”

  Laura huffed and forced herself to shift gears. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Clay directed his attention back to the math paper, “you like him.”

  “Yeah, and by the way what's the deal about us dating?”

  “Well …” Clay lifted his eyes to hers again. “We could be …”

  At that point Laura did something she hadn't thought of often through the years, something that stood out now as the single most vivid part of the memory.

  She laughed.

  Not a mean or mocking laugh, but a laugh that killed the idea of the two of them dating before it ever had a chance to take root. She still remembered the hurt that flashed in his eyes, a hurt that caught her off guard and made her scramble for something to say.

  “Clay … you can't be serious. We've been meeting all these weeks.” She shook her head. “You never said anything like that before. I … I thought you were joking.”

  For a moment she'd held Clay's expression, and she saw he was serious. That somehow along the course of Mondays, he'd fallen for her. But just as quickly, his guard was back up, and he stared at the math book once more. “You're right.” He shrugged. “I'm just playing with you.”

  Before she left Clay's house that day, Laura went to the kitchen for a drink of water and saw Eric in the family room. He spotted her and motioned for her to come. Laura went to him, even though she felt she was somehow betraying Clay. Her heart skittered within her, and she could feel her eyes dance as she drew near to him.

  When she was close enough, Eric leaned forward. “You aren't really dating Clay, are you?”

  “No.” She grinned. “He was teasing.”

  Eric leveled his gaze at her. “I wasn't.” He sat a bit straighter on the sofa. “Go out with me, Laura. Come watch my basketball game this Friday.”

  Laura felt something strange in her gut. Why not? She and Clay were nothing more than studying partners. Distant friends at best. Still, she wasn't about to make it easy. Not for Eric or any boy. “I'm busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Studying Friday night.” She hesitated. “And on Saturday there's a concert at church.”

  “I'll take you.” Eric practically jumped to his feet. “I love church concerts.”

  A quiet laugh slipped from Laura's throat. “Fine.” She took a step backwards and told him her address. “Pick me up at seven.”

  “Can we go out afterwards?”

  She studied him for a moment, praying her attraction to him wouldn't show. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty. How 'bout you?”

  “Sixteen.” She smiled again. “Better count on just the concert. My dad will want to meet you before we go anywhere else.”

  After that weekend there had been no turning back. She was Eric's girl from the moment he picked her up for the concert. Her adoptive father approved wholeheartedly, and they spent the next two school years together. They took trips to the LA Museum and discussed the lack of evidence supporting the theory of evolution. On weekends they held hands and walked barefoot along the shores of Malibu or Zuma Beach, spilling their most private secrets and savoring their time together.

  “I love you,” he'd tell her. “I can't wait to make a life for you one day. A life better than either of us ever had.”

  Dating Eric was the most amazing experience. Laura thought she'd died and gone to heaven. Eric was everything she'd ever wanted in a boyfriend, and when he proposed to her on Christmas Eve of her senior year in high school, she didn't hesitate for a moment. Her dreams of college and teaching paled in comparison to being Laura Michaels. Eighteen might have been too young for some girls, but not Laura. She'd been born old, and after a lifetime of wanting someone to love her all by herself, Laura was sure she'd found her dream man in Eric Michaels.

  Clay took the news well, congratulating them and assuring Eric he couldn't be happier for him. But something sad had flickered in Clay's eyes when he turned to her and gave her a quick hug. Something that seemed more pronounced now in the glow of so many years gone by.

  But Laura never gave another thought to the passing interest she'd had in Clay in the weeks leading up to her meeting Eric. They were married that summer in a simple wedding attended by only fifty people, family and friends. But it was a day that felt ordained by God Himself. Laura floated out of the church and into the reception at a hotel banquet room.

  “I can't give you much now,” Eric told her later that night when they were alone. “But one day, Laura … one day I'll give you everything you ever dreamed of. I promise.”

  Laura only kissed him and looked deep into his soul. “I already have it, Eric. I have you.”

  The cloud of memories lifted, and Laura nestled into her pillow. Her heart felt more hopeful for the time she'd spent in the past, the memories helping her forget, if just for one night, that Eric had found another love.

  The love he had for Koppel and Grant.

  That night she dreamed of her honeymoon, reliving every kiss, every intimate moment. But when she woke up the next morning, it only took a few seconds for reality to set in. She wasn't eighteen and in love with the most wonderful man in the world. She was thirty-two, and her husband barely talked to her. Indeed, she wouldn't spend the day frolicking on a Mexican beach and basking in the feel of Eric Michaels' arms.

  She would spend it alone in her Westlake Village mansion, surrounded by memories and dying dreams, wondering again whether she'd chosen the wrong brother.

  Reality was harsh after a night of dreaming. But there was no question about one thing. This wasn't the first day of her honeymoon. It was just a day that marked nothing more significant than the passing of time.

  Just another Tuesday morning in the lonely life of Laura Michaels.

  EIGHT

  SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 6 A.M.

  Jake's Bible verse that day was from Proverbs.

  Lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

  He read the words, underlined them, and read them again. Wasn't that exactly where Jamie was at? If only she could stop leaning on her own understanding and start leaning on God. He would make her paths straight. He'd take away her fear and help her feel safe about l
oving him. People had misjudged Jamie over the years, taken her as unbending and cold. A person with little love to give.

  Jake's cousin had thought that of Jamie. “She's so competitive, Jake. There's nothing soft about her.”

  But the cousin couldn't have been more wrong. Jamie had a world of love inside her, too much love, maybe. So much that it scared her, frightened her into thinking something would somehow come along to steal that love away. No, there wasn't any limit to Jamie's love. The hard part was making her feel safe enough to give it away, safe enough to stop running.

  And really, it all came down to the message in that single verse from Proverbs. If Jamie would lean on God, He'd take care of the rest. In the margins next to the verse, Jake scribbled, Jamie … this verse is for you, honey.

  He did that often, though he never showed her what he'd written. The first hour of his morning was between him and the Lord. He would read a little from his Bible, underline a few key verses, and jot notes in the margins. Then he'd write a page or two in his journal.

  One day in the not-too-distant future, when Jamie might show even a little interest, Jake would bring out the Bible and the journal and let her read both. He had nothing to hide. The material was simply an accounting of the walk he'd shared with God since he and Jamie had married seven years earlier. It was something he looked back on every now and then as a way of charting how far he'd come, a way of remembering what was important.

  Jake glanced at Jamie, cuddled up beside him, sleeping. She looked young and vulnerable, without the armor she typically wore when she was awake. In this light the resemblance between her and Sierra was striking.

  He sighed and stared at her a moment longer. No question about it, he was the luckiest man in the world. A beautiful wife who just happened to be his best friend … and a daughter who was at least half angel. Thank you so much, God … every day with them is a miracle.

  The numbers on Jake's bedside clock changed, and he tore his eyes away from Jamie. He needed to finish, or he wouldn't get to work on time. The shift began at nine o'clock, but he would arrive no later than eight. It usually took an hour for the night shift to debrief them on the incidents that had occurred while Manhattan slept.