Forsaken

by James David Jordan

  Simon put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her. Flashes fired.

  Elise stood. “Kacey’s been through a lot. That will have to do it for today. Thank you everyone.” She walked over to Kacey and helped her with her chair. Kacey stood, then leaned over and hugged Simon again. The flashes flickered again. A nurse moved toward Simon, but Kacey grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and pushed him back across the lawn toward the hospital door. The entire press corps stood and applauded. I applauded too.

  “They love her,” Jason said, as I turned to follow them.

  “We all love her,” I said over my shoulder.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PRESS conference, Simon checked out of the hospital. Since my car was already there, I volunteered to drive Kacey and him home while Elise finalized the preparations for Simon’s press conference the next morning.

  “I’ll bet you’re glad that’s finally over,” I said as I pulled away from the curb.

  Simon leaned forward and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “It’s not over. It will never be over.”

  I eased the car to the stop sign at the hospital exit and looked at him. His face was pale and his forehead was damp with sweat. For a second I wondered if he was having a heart attack. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Kacey already had her ear buds in and was scrolling through songs on my phone.

  “Are you all right?” I said to Simon in a low voice.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Simon, are you okay?” I checked the mirror again. Kacey was still focused on the phone.

  “I’m all right. Please just get me home.”

  We drove in silence. Each time traffic would allow, I checked on him from the corner of my eye. His color returned to normal, and he didn’t seem ill. Nevertheless, I was relieved when we pulled into his driveway.

  Simon and Kacey lived in a modest ranch-style house in North Dallas, largely hidden from the road behind a thicket of live oaks. If not for the unusually large lot, the house could have been picked up and dropped into any number of neighborhoods in the area without attracting attention. Simon’s sister, Meg, met us at the door in blue jeans and a cotton sweater. More thickly built than Simon, she had the same engaging smile and an air of matronly authority that was reinforced by slightly graying hair.

  Meg had prepared a brunch of scrambled eggs and bacon and had a bowl of batter for French toast waiting by the stove. After kissing Simon and Kacey, introducing herself to me, and then kissing them again, she helped Simon to a chair. She leaned his crutches against the wall behind him. The rest of us sat at the table.

  “Sadie will go crazy when she sees you two,” Meg said. “Are you ready?”

  Simon smiled. “I’ll brace myself.”

  Meg left the room and a few moments later we heard paws scrambling on the tile. Simon’s golden retriever, Sadie, burst through the doorway and practically leaped into Simon’s lap, her tail wagging frantically. Simon winced when she bounced off his chest. She darted over to Kacey, licked her on the face a few times, then flew back around the table to Simon.

  “Wow, she is excited to see you.” I lifted a wedge of buttered toast to my lips, but before I got it into my mouth, Meg said, “Simon, would you say grace? Then I’ll put Sadie in the laundry room so we can eat in peace.”

  I cleared my throat and lowered the toast back to my plate. “Sorry.”

  Meg waved her hand. “No need. Every family’s different. We pray before we eat. Simon?”

  He sat with his head bowed over his plate. “Will you do it, Meg?”

  She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. He still didn’t raise his eyes from his plate. “Of course.” She bowed her head. “Lord, we thank you for bringing us all back together safe and sound. And thank you for this food. Amen.”

  Kacey grabbed a grape and popped it in her mouth. “Aunt Meg’s the best at table prayers. Gets right to the point and then shuts it down. Some people would have dragged that one out forever with everything that’s happened to this family in the past few days.”

  Meg wagged a finger at her. “You think you can say anything now, just because you’ve been kidnapped?”

  Kacey laughed. “You got that right. I figure I’ve got a get-out-of-jail-free card for at least a month for this one.”

  I had to appreciate a family resilient enough to joke about a kidnapping. I glanced at Simon. He was still leaning over his plate, swirling his fork in his eggs. Meg watched him, too, although she kept up a lively conversation with Kacey.

  I needed to talk with Meg, and I had to do so before the day was finished. Because I needed some insights, and very clearly, Simon wasn’t talking. Not to me. Not to anyone.

  I SPENT THE AFTERNOON inspecting the house and neighborhood to develop a security plan. For the next few nights I intended to cover the front of the house from my car, parked just down the street. One of my security specialists would cover the back of the house. I’d checked with Michael Harrison, and the FBI believed that the security risk from terrorists had dropped dramatically since Kacey’s return. As Michael put it, the terrorists already got what they wanted from Simon. They had moved on.

  According to the FBI, Simon’s biggest risk was that some deranged Christian would take a shot at him—similar to what happened at the Challenger Airlines Center. Fortunately, that was a much easier risk to prepare for, since it would come from an amateur.

  Toward the end of the afternoon, I rang Simon’s doorbell. Meg answered the door. She took my hand and steered me to the left into the living room, a long rectangle at the front of the house that extended about twenty-five feet from a bay window and built-in love seat. The walls were pale green and framed in white dental molding. The room was sparsely furnished, except in the center where a few tightly grouped pieces surrounded a carved stone fireplace. In short, it was an otherwise beautiful, southern room that looked as if it had been furnished in about fifteen minutes by a forty-four-year-old widower.

  Meg led me to a cream-colored upholstered couch that faced the fireplace. We both sat. She smoothed a wrinkle out of her sweater with her hands. “I’m worried about Simon,” she said in a low voice. “He spent the whole afternoon in his room.”

  I crossed my leg. “I noticed that he’s been quiet since we left the hospital. Was he sleeping? He must be exhausted.”

  “No, that’s what worries me. He was talking. I heard him through the door. He wasn’t on his cell phone, because he left it on the kitchen counter.”

  “Are you sure Kacey wasn’t in the room with him?”

  “She was watching a movie in the family room.”

  “Maybe he was praying.”

  She turned her palms up. “Maybe. But the one thing I heard him say several times was Marie.”

  I smiled. “I think that’s a good thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Has he ever told you that he talks to Marie?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You mean his Marie?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, he’s never told me that. Is that what he told you?”

  “Yes. He talks to her when he’s got a problem that he’s working through.” I thought back to our conversation in the Azure Hotel. “He asked me if I thought he was crazy.”

  “I don’t mean any offense by this, but I’m surprised he told you something like that when you’ve only known him for a short time.”

  “No offense taken. I was surprised too. He was under a huge amount of stress at the time. I think he just wanted someone to talk to, and I happened to be there.”

  She brushed at her sweater again. “Is there anything . . . going on between you two?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Would you like there to be?” She put her hand to her cheek. “Oh, my, that wasn’t very subtle, was it?”

  “I don’t mind your asking. Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “I see.” She studied my face. After a few moments she
clasped her hands in her lap. “Well, can you stay for dinner? I didn’t have to talk to Kacey long to figure out that she idolizes you. Having you around can only help her, especially if Simon’s not himself.”

  That was not what I expected. “I’d be happy to stay. I’m planning on spending the night out front in my car anyway.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for Simon and Kacey. I understand you’re a very brave woman. If it weren’t for you, they might not be here at all.”

  “We’ve been pretty lucky. It could have been much worse.”

  “But because of you, it wasn’t. God sent you to watch over them. I’m sure of that.”

  My eyes widened. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong woman, Meg. I can assure you I’m not the type of person God would pick to be anyone’s guardian angel.”

  She smiled. “You’re forgetting that millions of people were praying for someone to save Simon and Kacey, and there you were. So God obviously did pick you. You’re selling yourself short. You might not see that, but God can.” She stood. “We’ll be eating around five since we didn’t really have any lunch. Please make yourself at home. You can come into the family room and watch television if you’d like. I think Kacey is still in there.”

  I got up and moved toward the front door. “Actually, I think I’ll go back to my apartment and pick up a few things. I’ll be back in about an hour, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine. Just come on in when you get back. You don’t need to ring the bell.”

  As I walked to my car, I considered Meg’s guardian angel theory. It made me chuckle, but something about it brightened my day too. I wasn’t accustomed to thinking of myself in positive terms, so it was nice to know that someone else might.

  I also thought about Meg’s question: Why would Simon confide in me? And why would he let me into his inner circle so quickly? It would be different if he’d indicated a romantic interest in me. But he hadn’t. I shook my head. Why did I constantly search for mysteries around every corner? After all, I was his security chief, and I’d probably saved his life. That should be enough to explain it. Nevertheless, I’d always been a realist, so as I pulled into the parking garage of my apartment building, I couldn’t get past the sense that there was something about Simon I was missing.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  AT DINNER SIMON ATE in silence while the rest of us made small talk. Every effort to include him in the conversation went nowhere. Afterward, we all moved to the family room to watch television while we devoured Meg’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  The family room and kitchen were one big room in the back of the house. The only thing separating them was a long, granite-top breakfast bar with low-backed stools on the family-room side. Both rooms looked out on the backyard through picture windows that ran nearly the length of the back wall, except where a bay window on the family-room side created a small breakfast nook.

  Kacey and I sat on a tan leather couch facing the TV. Simon sat in a matching leather easy chair to our left, his ankle elevated on an ottoman. He thumbed through a copy of the Sporting News and occasionally glanced up at the television. Meg sat in an upholstered arm chair to our right.

  The local news led with Kacey’s press conference. The anchorman referred to her as “courageous” and “spunky” and ran a lengthy clip that included her clever answer to the question of whether the kidnappers treated her well. Meg laughed and patted her niece’s leg. “You’re a real star, Kace.”

  Without cracking a smile, Kacey said, “I’m just glad they used a clip from before Taylor’s cardigan ruined my outfit.”

  I burst out laughing, and Kacey followed suit. Simon and Meg looked at us as if we were crazy. When Kacey finally stopped laughing, she said, “It also would have helped if the wind hadn’t been blowing my hair in my face. I looked like I was swatting at a spider web through the whole thing.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Meg said. “I didn’t notice that, did you, Simon?”

  I gave Kacey a sideways smile. “We could always rewind it and see.”

  “Great idea,” she said. “Give me the clicker, Dad. We’ll do an instant replay analysis of my hair during my first press conference.”

  Simon pointed the clicker at the television. “I can handle that. Here we go.”

  We watched the clip again, running it forward and backward over and over. Although Kacey’s hair really hadn’t been blowing around in any significant way, she’d taken a few swipes at loose strands as she spoke—just enough to provide us with several good laughs. Simon joined in with some good-natured teasing, and it was nice to see him come out of his funk for a few minutes.

  After ten minutes or so, Simon put the clicker down. “Okay, that’s enough. Seriously, though, Kace, you did a great job. And you looked just the way you usually do: beautiful. You gave some really clever answers too. Overall, I give it an A-plus.”

  “Spoken like a true dad.” Kacey grinned.

  “I really mean it. In this case I’d have said the same thing even if I weren’t your dad.”

  Meg nodded. “He’s right. You were great, Kace.”

  She stood and gave an exaggerated curtsy. “I want to thank you all, and most of all I want to thank my fans, without whom it would never have been possible.”

  Simon peeked around the corner of the magazine that he’d picked back up. “You already thanked all of your fans. We’re sitting right here.”

  “Clever, Dad, clever.” She pulled out the new cell phone she’d bought that afternoon and checked her text messages, then flipped it shut. “Rachel left me a message about the press conference. And she said she posted some pictures from their trip to Florida. I’m going to my room to check them out.”

  After a few minutes Meg got up. “I think I’ll go sit with Kacey and look at Rachel’s pictures.” She headed down the hallway, leaving Simon and me alone in front of the television.

  “One more press conference tomorrow morning and you may be able to get back to your life,” I said.

  He tossed his magazine onto the coffee table. “I suspect it’ll be a couple of weeks before they decide we’re old news and move on to something else. I’m looking forward to that.”

  “How’s your ankle?”

  “It hurts some. Not too bad, though. I’ve had sprained ankles before from basketball. It should heal pretty quickly.”

  I stood. “Can I get you some coffee? I don’t think Meg unplugged it.”

  “Yes, thanks. Black, please.”

  I walked over to the kitchen and poured us each a mug. When I came back, I handed his to him and sat at the end of the couch, next to his chair. I took off my shoes and folded one leg beneath me. “What now? How long before you get back to preaching? If you ask me, you should take a long vacation.”

  He sipped his coffee but said nothing.

  “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

  He set his mug on the end table between us. “It’s not that it’s none of your business.”

  “Well, then?”

  “You have a gun in your car, don’t you?”

  I stopped my coffee mug just short of my lips. “Yes, why?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Go get it, bring it in here, and shoot me.” He saw the expression on my face and shook his head. “I’m kidding.”

  I frowned. “Are you?”

  “Honestly? Right now, I don’t know.”

  I took a sip. The coffee was hot and stung my lip. I rested the mug on my knee. “Anyone would be depressed after all you’ve been through. It’ll pass. You’ll feel different a couple of weeks from now.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Maybe what you need is to get back to your usual schedule. Once you start preaching again, you’ll feel better.”

  “Now you’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not kidding. What made you think I was?”

  He looked away. “I can’t go back to preac
hing.”

  “I don’t mean tomorrow—after you take some time off.”

  “I can never go back.” He squinted as he spoke, as if someone were sticking a needle into his stomach each time he opened his mouth.

  He seemed incapable of being objective, but I wasn’t sure how to reason with him. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you go back? It’s what you do. People need you.”

  “Who would ever listen to me again?” He crossed his arms. “Look, I’m guilty of the most public denial of Jesus since the Apostle Peter. Millions of people all over the world watched me turn my back on him. I wouldn’t even listen to me now. Why would anyone else?”

  “Simon, you are so wrong on that. You’ll be more popular than ever. People will listen to you who never would have listened to you before. You were well known before, but now you’re the most famous person in the world.” I blew the steam from the top of my mug and took another sip, more carefully this time.

  He shook his head. “It’s not about being famous. It never has been.”

  “Okay, I didn’t mean that to sound the way it did. What I meant was that you can reach even more people than you did before. Think of all the good you can do. Fame is a way to reach people. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

  “Even if I could reach them, even if they would listen, I could never preach again. I despise myself. How can I stand up in front of people and talk about faith when I’ve denied mine? I’m not willing to be that much of a hypocrite.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m a fraud and I don’t see any way to get back to where I was. It’s as simple as that.”

  I pulled my leg from beneath me and leaned toward him. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’re a good man who was faced with an impossible situation. You did the best you could. No one could have done any better.”

  “You’re wrong, Taylor. Others have done better—in many ways. I’m supposed to be this big-shot leader of the faith, and I’ve done more harm than I could ever make up for if I lived ten lives. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone who hasn’t done better than I have.” He stood up and hobbled over to the fireplace.