Sierra thought about that for a minute. “I like that.”
One of the other volunteers approached her then, an older woman who had connected often with Jamie. She knew why Jamie was there and she introduced herself to Sierra. “Want some cookies upstairs? I baked them this morning.”
Sierra looked at Jamie. “Can I?”
“Yes.” Jamie cast the woman a grateful look. “But only for a minute. The cab's waiting.”
Sierra went off with the woman. Once she was gone, Jamie turned and found Jake's picture again. Sweet Jake, the man who had prayed for her and cherished her and written words that guided her way still. The man who had led her to God.
She looked deep into his eyes. So much of their time together she had worried about him, that he would lose his life fighting fires. What a waste of time. If she had it to do all over again, she would choose to love Jake, even knowing their time together would be short.
The lessons he'd taught her would live on, as would the memory of his love. Yes, the page was turning. She could feel it in her heart, feel the way St. Paul's didn't quite have the same hold on her as it once had. She didn't need a memorial to remember Jake, to honor him.
She would do that with her life.
The volunteer returned with Sierra, and Jamie hugged the woman. “Tell the others good-bye, okay?”
“I will.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket. “Aaron Hisel told me to give this to you. He heard you were moving.”
Jamie's heart sank. Aaron had been important in her life for a time, one of the reasons she'd been able to process the pain of losing Jake. She would miss him, even though their time together had ended long before she decided to marry Clay.
“Did … did he say anything?”
The woman smiled. “He wanted you to hear it from him.”
Jamie nodded. She slipped the envelope in her coat pocket, said another quick good-bye, and led Sierra back outside. She walked to the corner and for a moment she stared at the empty sky, the place where the buildings had stood.
It would be good to get away from that part of the skyline, good to know she could drive to the market without catching a glimpse of the emptiness. Jake went into those towers because it was the right thing to do. She had no doubt that even until the last few seconds, he and Larry were helping people, probably praying with them and telling them about Jesus.
She didn't need St. Paul's or Ground Zero to remind her of that.
“That's where the Twin Towers were, right, Mommy?” Sierra squinted up, shading her eyes so she could see despite the glare from the snow and white cloudy sky.
“Yes.” Even now she hated the past tense, hated how it reminded her that such an awful thing really had happened. “That's where they were.”
Sierra looked at her and squeezed her hand a little tighter. “But that's not where Daddy is now. Daddy's in heaven.” Her eyes were dry now, the trauma of good-bye already fading. She touched her fingers to her chest. “And his picture is right here.” She angled her head, her eyes curious. “Do you think Daddy's happy that we're moving to California and marrying Clay?”
Jamie looked at her feet for a minute and then up at the empty skyline again. Jake's smile, the memory of it, flashed in her mind as big and bright as heaven itself. “Yes, Sierra. I think he's very happy.”
The plane was halfway to Los Angeles when Jamie remembered Aaron's letter. Sierra was sleeping in the seat beside her, so she was careful not to wake her. She pulled out the envelope, opened it, and slid out the letter.
Dear Jamie,
I won't make this long, but I promised you I'd tell you if something changed. Well, something did.
Jamie closed her eyes, her heart doing a double beat. What was this? Aaron couldn't be talking about the one thing they never agreed on, could he? She blinked and found her place.
One of the new guys at the station had a baby with a heart problem. The guy asked every one of us who believed to pray. You know me; I told him I couldn't pray because I didn't believe. But that night I asked God to show me He was real, let me know if I was wrong about the whole faith thing.
And guess what happened?
The new guy comes up to me the next day and says, “You don't have to believe in God, Hisel, He believes in you.”
The exact words you told me. And I don't know, I got chills and something happened inside me. Like I knew right then that God was real, and He was there. I'm not saying I have it all figured out or any of it figured out, really. But the new guy's talking to me. He's buying me a Bible.
I guess I just wanted you to know so you could keep praying for me. I already know Jake's praying. I'm happy for you, Jamie. Take care of yourself.
Aaron
Jamie blinked back tears and read the letter again. Then she closed her eyes and let her head fall against the seat back. God … You're so good, so faithful. I knew You'd get Aaron's attention, and now You have. You work all things out in Your timing.
The hum of the jet soothed her, helped clear her mind.
She opened her eyes and looked out the window. Down below were clusters of lights, places where families gathered, sharing notes from a day of work or school. The way she and Clay and Sierra would be soon.
Joy rose up within her and warmed her heart. There was really nothing more to be sad about. She pictured Clay's face, the way he would look when they got off the plane and walked into his world once and for all. Thoughts of the future filled her head. It would be so good to see him and hold him and plan a wedding with him, so much fun unpacking her things and watching Sierra and Clay and Wrinkles play dress-up together.
Choose life. Jake's voice sounded in her soul once more, ringing with sincerity and faith, the way it had always done back when he was alive, when he was hers. Choose life, Jamie. Choose life.
She smiled at the sleeping form of their daughter. I am, Jake. I'm choosing life.
The jet engines hummed low in the background. She looked out the window, every mountain or field they passed taking them a little closer to California. Closer to Clay. A warm certainty settled in her chest, convincing her of what she'd known all along. With all its trials and tragedies, all its brokenhearted confusion, life was still the greatest choice of all. God-given life. That was her choice.
Now and always.
REMEMBER TUESDAY MORNING
DEDICATION
To Donald, my Prince Charming …
How I rejoice to see you coaching again, sharing your gift of teaching and your uncanny basketball ability with another generation of kids — and best yet, now our boys are part of the mix. Isn’t this what we always dreamed of, my love? I love sitting back this time and letting you and God figure it out. I’ll always be here — cheering for you and the team from the bleachers. But God’s taught me a thing or two about being a coach’s wife. He’s so good that way. It’s fitting that you would find varsity coaching again now — after twenty years of marriage. Hard to believe that as you read this, our twentieth anniversary has come and gone. I look at you and I still see the blond, blue-eyed guy who would ride his bike to my house and read the Bible with me before a movie date. You stuck with me back then and you stand by me now — when I need you more than ever. I love you, my husband, my best friend, my Prince Charming. Stay with me, by my side, and let’s watch our children take wing, savoring every memory and each day gone by. Always and always … The ride is breathtakingly beautiful, my love. I pray it lasts far into our twilight years. Until then, I’ll enjoy not always knowing where I end and you begin. I love you always and forever.
To Kelsey, my precious daughter …
You are nineteen now, a young woman, and my heart soars with joy when I see all that you are, all you’ve become. This year is a precious one for us because you’re still home, attending junior college and spending nearly every day in the dance studio. When you’re not dancing, you’re helping out with the business and ministry of Life-Changing Fiction ™ — so we have many precious hours together. I know
this time is short and won’t last, but I’m enjoying it so much — you, no longer the high school girl, a young woman and in every way my daughter, my friend. That part will always stay, but you, my sweet girl, will go where your dreams lead, soaring through the future doors God opens. Honey, you grow more beautiful — inside and out — every day. And always I treasure the way you talk to me, telling me your hopes and dreams and everything in between. I can almost sense the plans God has for you, the very good plans. I pray you keep holding on to His hand as He walks you toward them. I love you, sweetheart.
To Tyler, my lasting song …
I can hardly wait to see what this school year will bring for you, my precious son. Last year you were one of Joseph’s brothers, and you were Troy Bolton, and Captain Hook — becoming a stronger singer and stage actor with every role. This year you’ll be at a new high school, where I believe God will continue to shape you as the leader He wants you to be. Your straight A’s last year were a sign of things to come, and I couldn’t be prouder, Ty. I know it was hard watching Kelsey graduate, knowing that your time with your best friend is running short. But you’ll be fine, and no matter where God leads you in the future, the deep and lasting relationships you’ve begun here in your childhood will remain. Thank you for the hours of music and song. As you seize hold of your sophomore year, I am mindful that the time is rushing past, and I make a point to stop and listen a little longer when I hear you singing. I’m proud of you, Ty, of the young man you’re becoming. I’m proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. However your dreams unfold, I’ll be in the front row to watch them happen. Hold on to Jesus, Ty. I love you.
To Sean, my happy sunshine …
Today you came home from school, eyes sparkling, and showed me your science notebook — all your meticulous neat sentences and careful drawings of red and white blood cells and various bones and bacteria. I was marveling over every page, remarking at the time you’d taken and the quality of your work, and together we laughed over the fact that neither of us really cares too much for science — but that it still matters that we do our best. You smiled that easy smile of yours and said, “Wait till you see Josh’s — his blows mine away.” You didn’t know it at the time, but I was very touched by the tone in your voice. You weren’t envious or defeated by the fact that Josh — in your same grade — might have managed to draw even more detailed pictures in his science journal. You were merely happy that you’d done your best, earned your A, and could move on from seventh grade science proud of your effort. I love that about you, Sean. You could easily sulk in the shadow of your brother, a kid who excels in so many areas that the two of you share. But you also excel, my dear son. And one of the best ways you shine is in your happy heart, your great love for life and for people, and your constant joy.
Sean, you have a way of bringing smiles into our family, even in the most mundane moments, and lately we are smiling very big about your grades. I pray that God will use your positive spirit to always make a difference in the lives around you. You’re a precious gift, Son. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best for your life. I love you, honey.
To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist …
So, you finally did it! You can beat me at ping-pong now, not that I’m surprised. God has given you great talents, Josh, and the ability to work at them with the sort of diligent determination that is rare in young teens. Whether in football or soccer, track or room inspections, you take the time to seek perfection. Along with that, there are bound to be struggles. Times when you need to understand again that the gifts and talents you bear are God’s, not yours, and times when you must learn that perfection isn’t possible for us, only for God. Even so, my heart almost bursts with pride over the young man you’re becoming. After one of your recent soccer tournaments, one of the parents said something I’ll always remember: “Josh is such a leader,” she told me. “Even when he doesn’t know other parents are looking, he’s always setting an example for his teammates.” The best one, of course, is when you remind your teammates to pray before a game. What a legacy you and your brothers are creating here in Washington State. You have an unlimited future ahead of you, Josh, and I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.
To EJ, my chosen one …
Here you are in the early months of seventh grade, and I can barely recognize the student athlete you’ve become. Those two years of home schooling with Dad continue to reap a harvest a hundred times bigger than what was sown, and we couldn’t be prouder of you. But even beyond your grades, we are blessed to have you in our family for so many reasons. You are wonderful with our pets — always the first to feed them and pet them and look out for them — and you are a willing worker when it comes to chores. Besides all that, you make us laugh — oftentimes right out loud. I’ve always believed that getting through life’s little difficulties and challenges requires a lot of laughter — and I thank you for bringing that to our home. You’re a wonderful boy, Son, a child with such potential. Clearly, that’s what you displayed the other day when you came out of nowhere in your soccer qualifiers and scored three goals. I’m amazed because you’re so talented in so many ways, but all of them pale in comparison to your desire to truly live for the Lord. I’m so excited about the future, EJ, because God has great plans for you, and we want to be the first to congratulate you as you work to discover those. Thanks for your giving heart, EJ. I love you so.
To Austin, my miracle boy …
I smile when I picture you hitting not one home run, but three last baseball season — all of them for Papa — and I feel my heart swell with joy as I think of what happened after your second home run, when you had rounded the bases one at a time and accepted congratulations at home plate from your entire team. You headed into the dugout, and a couple of your teammates tugged on your arm. “Tell us, Austin … how do you do it? How do you hit a home run like that?” That’s when you smiled and shrugged your shoulders. “Easy. I asked God for the strength to hit the ball better than I could without Him.” Papa must be loving every minute of this, Aus. I’m sure of it. What I’m not sure of is whether missing him will ever go away. I can only tell you that our quiet times together are what I love most too. Those, and our times of playing give-and-go out on the basketball court. You’re my youngest, my last, Austin. I’m holding on to every moment, for sure. Thanks for giving me so many wonderful reasons to treasure today. I thank God for you, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Austin.
And to God Almighty, the Author of Life, who has — for now — blessed me with these.
ONE
Smog hung over the San Fernando Valley like a collapsed Boy Scout tent, filling in the spaces between the high-rise office buildings and freeway overpasses. The Pacific Ocean hadn’t produced a breeze in three weeks, and by two o’clock that August afternoon temperatures had long since shot past the century mark.
Alex Brady didn’t care.
He picked up his pace, pounding his Nikes against the shimmering asphalt. Salty sweat dripped down his temples and into the corners of his mouth, but he kept running, filling his lungs with the sweltering, stifling air. Something about the sting in his chest made him feel good, stirred the intensity of his run. The intensity of his existence. If chasing bad guys on the streets of Los Angeles didn’t kill him, he wasn’t going to keel over on the Pierce College running track. Whatever the weather.
Five miles and ten hill sprints every off-day, that was his mandate. And he never made the trip without Bo.
They were alone on the track today, no one else crazy enough to push this hard in the suffocating heat. He glanced at the German shepherd keeping pace alongside him. His dog, his partner for every on-duty call. His best friend, his only friend. “Atta boy.” The dog wasn’t even breathing hard. Alex slowed long enough to pat Bo’s deep brown coat. They both needed a drink. Alex’s ribs heaved as he ran to the bleachers and slowed to a stop. He grabbed one o
f his water bottles from the lowest row and downed half of it. Bo found his bowl a few feet away and lapped like crazy. This was a two-bottle day if ever there was one.
Alex slammed the bottle back down on the bench and kicked his run into gear again. His dog was a few seconds behind him, but he caught up easily. “Alright, Bo … let’s get this.” Alex could feel the workout now, feel his legs screaming for relief the way they always did when he had a mile left.
Bo’s earnest eyes seemed to say he would stay by his master whatever the pace, whatever the distance. Alex wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun. Without question, Bo was the best police dog in the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department. Every bit as fit as Alex, and with a resumé of heroism unequalled among K9 units.
Another lap and Alex noticed something on the surface of the track. His running shoes were leaving an imprint. The asphalt was that hot. Good thing Bo was running on the grass. Push through it, he ordered himself. Dad would’ve done this without breaking a sweat.
And then, like it did at least once a day, a rush of memories came over him so hard and fast he could almost feel the wind from its wake. His dad, Captain Ben Brady, New York City firefighter. His hero, his best friend. Suddenly it was all real again. The sound of his voice, the feel of his hand … firm against Alex’s shoulder when he lost the big game his junior year … running alongside Alex when he was six and learning to ride a bike … or even before that, when he lifted Alex up into the fire truck that very first time.
Two more laps, Brady. You can do it. Alex clenched his teeth and pushed himself, but the memories stayed. There was his dad, hovering over his bed that September Tuesday morning, placing his hand against the side of Alex’s face. “Buddy … time to get up. You gotta ace that math test … we’ll talk about the other stuff when I get home.”
Tuesday Morning Collection, The: One Tuesday Morning, Beyond Tuesday Morning, Remember Tuesday Morning Page 68
