Forsaken

by James David Jordan

  My hand went over my mouth again. With my other hand I reached in my pocket for a tissue.

  A neighbor’s dog barked, and Simon glanced over his shoulder at the back door. “I wonder where Sadie is.” He went to the door, held it open, and whistled. I quickly wiped my eyes and stuffed the tissue back in my pocket.

  Sadie ran onto the porch and shot past us down the steps. At the edge of the pool she froze and stared into the water, her tail extended and perfectly still. After a few moments she leaned back on her haunches and barked three times at the water. Then, as if that had been sufficient to discharge all of her poolside responsibilities, she turned and ran back up the stairs to Simon, her tail wagging frantically. Simon sat in his rocker and rubbed her behind the ears with both hands. Then he held his fist to his side. Sadie lay on the porch between our rockers, her chin resting on her paws, her tail flicking sporadically.

  “What was that all about?” I said, grateful for the interruption.

  “She sees her reflection in the water and thinks it’s another dog. She’s got to let it know who’s boss of the Mason yard.”

  I patted her side. “You’re funny, Sadie.” She stretched her head back and sniffed my hand.

  Simon slipped his feet out of his tennis shoes and put one foot up on the porch rail. He seemed to focus on something just beyond the pool. “I’m going to miss you.”

  I turned and looked at him. In the swirling light from the pool, his eyes glinted and he appeared younger. I could imagine him when Kacey was small—a strong, athletic father, the kind who would make a girl feel confident and secure.

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t have been sure.”

  He smiled. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. You’re so much like me. We’ve got our flaws, but I think we’re basically good-hearted. I hope you don’t mind that I lumped you into a category with me.”

  “It depends on what flaws you’re talking about.”

  “Minor ones in your case; more problematic ones in mine.”

  It was my turn to stare into the yard. “You know that I don’t want you to go.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, and it’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He lowered his foot from the rail.

  I quickened my rocking.

  “I won’t deny that I’m trying to do something— something really important—to square things with God. I mean, how does a preacher make up for denying his faith? It’s all so crazy. Seventeen years ago I was just some guy working at an auto plant. I wish so much that I could go back.”

  “You don’t deserve to feel this way.”

  He reached over and stopped my rocker with his hand. “Please look at me, Taylor.”

  I turned toward him. “This is so unfair.” I pulled another tissue from my pocket.

  “I’m not looking for sympathy. I don’t have to do this; I’m choosing to do it. You know, Tom Carston talked about grace when he was over here that day. It’s not about that. I know how grace works, and I know that I don’t have to earn it. This is about owing God something. It may be irrational, but it’s the way I feel. Anyway, the point is that you’re right. A part of me wants to die. It may be the only way I can find peace.”

  “That’s not martyrdom; it’s suicide.”

  “No, I’ll say it again: It’s peace. Did Jesus commit suicide? He could have prevented his death, but he didn’t. Did the martyrs commit suicide? Many of them could have avoided death just by keeping their mouths shut. I don’t believe that it’s suicide to choose to put yourself in a position where you might die as a public statement of your faith.”

  “What about Kacey? If you die, what happens to her? Do you think a cradle will make up for a missing father?”

  His hand slipped from the arm of my rocker.

  “I’m sorry. That was unfair,” I said.

  “It’s okay. I want to talk about it. In fact, I need to talk about it. I need to tell someone how hard this is. I don’t think I can tell Kacey. It would only make it more painful for her.” He ran his hand over his head. “Do you think I haven’t agonized over her? My dinner with her tonight will be the most painful thing I’ve done in my life—saying good-bye.”

  I dabbed at my eyes with my tissue. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just upset.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I told you, I want to talk about this. The truth is that I love Kacey more than anything. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Deep in my heart I’ve had to admit that I love her more than I love God. She’s part of me. I can see her, I can touch her, I was there when she was born. How could I not love her more than someone I can’t see and can’t touch? That’s why I have to make this sacrifice. I owe it to God. I turned my back on him once. I’ll never do it again. My love for him isn’t what it should be, but I will sacrifice everything for him. I’m willing to say good-bye to the one thing that matters most to me. My daughter.” His voice cracked. “There is nothing more I can give.”

  Even if I had thought of something to say, I couldn’t have spoken. For several minutes we sat in silence. He stared down at the water; I stared up at the stars. I focused on one that was particularly bright. It flashed and pulsed in a rhythm I struggled to catch. For an instant my father’s face came to me, looking up at me in the moment before he died. He was happy in that moment. He’d finally found peace. Dad was wrong that night when he told me that I loved the lights. I thought of Simon and Kacey, how much I’d grown to love them, and I knew that for me it had never been the lights.

  It was the stars. How I loved the stars.

  I touched Simon’s arm. “I understand.”

  He squeezed my hand and nodded.

  Sadie stood, gave herself a shake, and put her head in Simon’s lap. “So you want some attention, huh?” He gave her head a good rub. “I’ll miss you, too, puppy.” After a minute she moved back to the side of his chair, circled a few times, and lay on the porch again.

  “I guess we got sidetracked from the reason I wanted to see you,” Simon said. “I’ve thought a lot about you lately. More than you would imagine. I’ll admit that sometimes I’ve wondered how you felt about me. That’s one of the reasons I asked you to come over. I want you to know how I feel.”

  I leaned away from him as he spoke. He seemed to be heading in a direction that I no longer wanted to go.

  He cleared his throat. “I never had a little sister.”

  I realized I was holding my breath. I exhaled.

  “If I had had a little sister, I’d like for her to be exactly like you. I feel protective of you, and I trust you. That must be obvious after the talk we just had. It’s about the best compliment I could give someone.”

  I leaned toward him and smiled. “I appreciate it very much.”

  “I want to ask you a favor, and I want to give you something. First, the favor: If anything does happen to me, I’m asking you to look out for Kacey. Be a big sister to her. Meg will give her all the mothering she could need. Kacey idolizes you, though—I’ve told you that before—and you could be a great influence on her. Will you do that for me?”

  My eyes were moist before he even finished the question.

  “You’re crying again? What did I say this time?”

  I waved my hand in the air. “Oh, you know me.” I wiped my cheek with my sleeve. “This means more than just about anything that anyone has ever said to me.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “Of course I will,” I said between sniffles.

  “Thank you.”

  “You said there was a second thing?”

  “Yes. I have something for you.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a folded letter-sized envelope. “I told you I trust you. Now I’m going to give you a chance to prove I’m not a sap.” He handed it to me.

  I laughed, still wiping my eyes. “Is it a million dollars?”

  “Clever. Actually, there are some things about me that you still don’t know. For example, I knew more about you than I let on w
hen I called you that first day from Chicago.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Just more. Now I’m asking you for a promise.”

  “What kind of promise?”

  “I want you to hold onto this envelope. If I get back from Lebanon okay, you can return it to me—unopened. If something happens to me, I want you to open it. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “This is a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. I need you to promise me, though. I know it will be tempting to open it as soon as you walk out that door tonight, and I can’t stop you from doing that. But I’m giving it to you because I trust you. I’m asking you to prove that I have reason to. Will you do it?”

  I turned the envelope over in my hands. Then I held it up to the porch light and squinted.

  “Very funny,” he said.

  I pulled it back down. “Okay, I give you my word that I won’t open it unless you don’t come back. But you will come back, right? And when you do, you’ll tell me what’s in the envelope. Otherwise, I’d have a rather unbecoming rooting interest in your trip.”

  He chuckled. “Thank you for promising.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nearly ten. I’ve got to get down to the campus to meet Kacey.” He reached down and slipped on his shoes.

  We stood and picked up our glasses. Sadie trotted to the back door and looked at us over her shoulder.

  Simon touched my arm. “Before you go, there is one more thing I’d like.”

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned toward me, stretched out his arms, and hugged me.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-NINE

  THE MORNING AFTER SIMON left for Beirut, I was squeezing my toes into a pump in the shoe department at Nordstrom when my phone rang. It was my pilot friend, Roger.

  “The package has been delivered.”

  “Is that some sort of secret pilot code?”

  “Yeah. Sounded cool, huh?”

  “As cool as you’re likely to get. Were there any problems?”

  “None that I could see.”

  “Great. Are you staying over there for a while?”

  “No. I’ll be back tonight. I have another job the day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. I’ll make sure you get paid promptly.”

  “My pleasure. Maybe this is something that I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren about.”

  “Don’t you have to have children before you can have grandchildren?”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “That’s more information than I needed. Thanks again.”

  He laughed. “Any time.”

  I clicked the phone off, found Hakim’s number, and punched the buttons. After a few rings Hakim answered, huffing and puffing.

  “This is Taylor. Are you all right? You sound out of breath.”

  “I’m jogging. Here, let me get off to the side of the track.” There was a shuffling sound, and several car horns blew in the background.

  “Where are you, on Michigan Avenue?”

  “Close. I’m at the track at Northwestern University, the downtown campus. “What you’re hearing is Lake Shore Drive. Have you talked to Simon?”

  “I just got a call from the pilot. Simon got to Amman okay.”

  “I know. I talked to my cousin Kalil. Simon is fine. In fact, Kalil and Jibran have already gotten him to Beirut, and he’s checked into his hotel. It’s a nice hotel, near the water.”

  “That’s what I wanted to know. They’re staying with him, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, yes. One of them will be with him at all times. Jibran is staying right there in the room with him. They are both experienced men. Militia.”

  “That’s all I wanted to know. Thanks, Hakim. Bye.”

  I had never been a worrier, and I gave myself a mental kick for acting like such a grandmother. I put the pumps back in their box and resolved to relax. Simon was going to be just fine without me.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY

  THAT NIGHT I DREAMED that Kacey was standing in front of me, in the isosceles firing stance, aiming her pistol at my recovery partner, Brandon. I tried to tell her not to shoot, but my mouth was stuck shut with something like super bubble gum. I watched helplessly as she sighted the pistol and closed her finger over the trigger. Instead of a gun shot, her pistol rang, and rang, and rang again.

  I sat up in bed. My phone. I leaned over and hit the speaker button. “Hello.”

  “Taylor, it’s Hakim.”

  I clicked off the speaker and held the phone to my ear. I looked at the clock. Two-thirty in the morning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s happened to Simon.”

  My shoulders sagged. “Oh, no. What?”

  “Jibran is dead. He and Simon were supposed to meet Kalil for breakfast at 9:30 in the hotel. When they didn’t show up, Kalil went to their room. He knocked on the door and there was no answer. He got the hotel manager to open the door. Jibran was sitting on the floor, propped against the wall beside the door. He had a bullet through his head.”

  I sat back against the headboard. “What about Simon?”

  “He wasn’t there. There was no other blood or sign of a struggle, just Jibran lying there.”

  “I’m sorry, Hakim.”

  “So am I.”

  “How can we find out what happened to Simon? Has anyone contacted the authorities?”

  “One might question who the authorities are in Lebanon right now. We cannot rely on the police. No one knows for sure who is loyal to what faction these days.”

  “What can we do?”

  “My family has many connections, and not just in the Christian community. There are back channels to be worked, things to be done to obtain information. Lebanon is a country with a chaotic political climate. In some ways that may help us. Allegiances can change day to day. Often money is the thing that changes them. They will let me know as soon as they hear something.”

  “I want to go over there.”

  “That is not a good idea. An American woman traveling alone in Lebanon could be in danger.”

  “I get the idea that anyone traveling in Lebanon could be in danger. I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”

  “I suspect that you are. If you insist on going, I wish you would allow me to have my uncle arrange an escort you can trust, someone to drive you around who knows the area, the customs. You’ll want to blend in as much as possible.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “When do you intend to leave?”

  “I know a pilot. As soon as I can get him on the phone and make visa arrangements.”

  “Your visa should not be a problem. You can get it at the Beirut airport when you arrive. You will find Lebanon a relatively easy country to get into for that region of the world. Our goal is to make sure that you come out again.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “One more thing: I understand the type of work you are in. I have a tip for you. You may be accustomed to traveling with a weapon in your luggage. I wouldn’t attempt that. My uncle can arrange for anything you need in that regard once you arrive in Lebanon.”

  “Thank you for the tip.”

  I clicked the phone off and put my head in my hands. This couldn’t really be happening. Why didn’t Simon listen to us? I grabbed my hair and pulled it until it hurt. I wanted to punch him, hurt him. He had no right to throw away his life. There were people who needed him.

  I needed him.

  And what chance did I have of helping him in Beirut?

  I sat up straight and took a deep breath. One thing was certain: Whining would accomplish nothing. I might not be able to do much, but I had to do what I could. I swung my feet over the side of the bed. Before I stood, I looked up at the ceiling.

  “God, if you’re up there, please keep an eye on Simon. And give me some luck.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-ONE

  AS I WALKED TOWARD the baggage claim area
at the Beirut airport, I saw a man in a New York Yankees T-shirt holding up a cardboard sign with black lettering: “Taylor Pasbury.”

  I waved at him as I approached. “Sakir?”

  He put the sign under his arm. “Miss Pasbury? I was worried that your flight would be delayed. Look at the sky.” He pointed out the plate-glass windows at dark clouds rumbling a mile or so from the airport. “They might have sent your plane back to Amman. Follow me. The baggage claim is this way.”

  “I don’t have any other baggage. This is it.” I nodded at the wheeled suitcase I was pulling. “I came in on a private jet. Any news about Simon?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “We will wait and talk about that in the car.”

  I looked around at the passengers attending to their luggage, although I had no idea what I was looking for. A fellow in a trench coat and dark glasses?

  As the automatic doors opened to let us out of the terminal, the first raindrops were splattering on the pavement. Sakir led me across the terminal drive to a silver Mercedes parked in one of the first stalls in the parking garage.

  “Is this your car?”

  “You expected a bombed out 4-Runner? This isn’t Iraq. We’ve had our problems for the past few decades, and certainly during the Israeli fight with Hezbollah. Even in the days when Syria was running things, though, there were ways to make a good living in this country. Our family has been here many years. We adapt.” He tossed my suitcase into the trunk and opened the passenger door for me.

  “You will be staying at the Seafarer Hotel under the name Tia Gemaldi. We know many of the staff there. You will be safe, and we will be able to communicate easily. Here is a passport in case you are ever asked for identification around the hotel. Do not use this with any of the authorities, though—only with staff at the hotel and nongovernment people. If anyone in authority asks for your passport, give them your real one. You do not want to get yourself in unnecessary trouble.”

  I took the passport and put it in my travel bag. “Your English is very good. Better than mine, I’d say.”