Halfway to Forever

by Karen Kingsbury

  Sincerely, Pastor Steve

  With each clear-cut sentence, a river of peace flowed more freely in Jade’s heart. She blinked twice so she could see through her tears. “But I was at fault, too. I lied to Jim about Ty from the beginning.”

  The pastor bit his lower lip. “Well, Jade, you shouldn’t have lied, but the test God gives us isn’t one of perfection, it’s one of intent.” He studied her. “Did you intend to see your marriage end in divorce? Even at the end?”

  Jade shook her head. “No, even after I found Tanner again I wanted to make things work with Jim. He was my husband. But by then Jim had made up his mind.”

  There was silence between them for a moment, and Jade remembered her feelings from earlier that afternoon. “I guess there’s only one other thing.” Her eyes settled on her hands and she noticed they were trembling. “I feel like I’m dying. Maybe even tonight.”

  At that moment, a door opened in the back of the church, and Jade turned just as Tanner rushed in. When he saw her, he stopped, his eyes locked on hers. Even from a hundred feet away, Jade could feel his apology, read it in his face and hear it in his unspoken words.

  Her heart filled with a joy so strong it nearly eclipsed her fears. She soundlessly mouthed the only thing that came to mind, a truth that started her crying in earnest and made her ache for his touch: “You came.”

  Pastor Steve nodded toward Tanner, cleared his throat, and patted Jade on the knee. “I’ll be in my office if either of you need me.”

  When he was gone, Tanner came to her, lifted her from the chair, and cradled her close to his body as though she were a small child. His tears mingled with hers as he brushed his cheek against her face. “Jade. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  With every ounce of her remaining strength, she held on to him, breathing in the smell of him, savoring his heartbeat against her chest. Careful not to bump her arms or legs, he sat down in the wheelchair, still holding her close.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “Don’t let go of me, Tanner, please.” Two quick sobs slipped from her throat. “I’m so afraid.”

  “Of what, sweetie?” He drew back enough to see her face. His voice was like a caress. “Tell me.”

  “Of dying.” She sniffed. “I think I might die tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Tanner’s eyes grew wide and his expression softened even more. “Honey, don’t say that.”

  “But I’m so scared …”

  “You?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “I thought you were … you always say everything is fine.” He nuzzled his face against hers. “Baby, how long have you felt this way?”

  Jade swallowed back several small sobs. “Since … since the day we found out.”

  His body responded to her words, tensing and flexing beneath her. When he spoke, his voice was choked with sorrow. “All this time I thought I was the only one who was afraid.” He tightened his hold on her. “I didn’t know, Jade. I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry. You said you were okay.”

  “I wanted to be.” Her forehead fell against his shoulder. “I thought if I got scared everything would spin out of control.”

  “No, honey, that wouldn’t happen. It’s okay to be scared.” Suddenly Jade’s fear of dying that night faded like a winter sunset. Tanner stroked her hair and continued. “It kills me to see you like this … hurting, unable to walk.” He paused and touched his lips to hers. “And when you pretended it didn’t matter …”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I knew you were scared, Tanner. I thought if I told you the truth you’d … you’d be gone more.” She clutched his shirt and drank in his sweet breath near her face. “I love you, Tanner. I need you more than ever.”

  He placed his hands on either side of her face and positioned her so he could see straight into her soul. “What do you need from me, Jade? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

  She didn’t take even a moment’s consideration. Blinking back an onset of fresh tears, she kissed him as she hadn’t in weeks. When she pulled away, she studied his face, praying that this would be a turning point, because the battle she was fighting could not be won without him. She knew that now. “Are you serious?”

  Tanner’s eyes glistened and he nodded. “As serious as I’ve ever been. What do you need from me?”

  “Okay.” She drew a steadying breath. “I’ll tell you.”

  And for the next hour, with Tanner hanging on her every word, Jade did exactly that.

  Eighteen

  Each time the dream was the same, and that September night was no different.

  Jenny stood in front of her house, her mom and Matt on either side, and together they waved to Grace. The car Grace and her grandmother left in was maroon, and Jenny watched it back out of the driveway, stop and shift gears, then take off down the street.

  The whole time, Grace’s face was up against the window, tears running down her cheeks, her hand pressed against the glass as she said her final good-byes.

  Two seconds passed, three, four …

  Then the car glided into an intersection, and suddenly from out of nowhere a giant white pickup came from the side and there was a horrendous crash. Jenny’s senses filled with the assault of grinding metal, shattering glass, screeching tires, and flying debris.

  “No! Not Grace. Not her, too.”

  She raced as fast as she could toward the accident scene. But when she came upon the spot where the collision occurred, there was nothing but pieces of the car. Small, maroon pieces. Tires and car doors and engine parts. The giant white truck had continued on its way and was long gone.

  There were no seats, no floorboards, and no sign of Grace or her grandmother. Only Mrs. Parsons stood there in the midst of the mess, her body intact and free from injury.

  Jenny ran to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Where is she? Where’s Grace?”

  “I don’t know.” Mrs. Parsons’ expression was unsympathetic. “I guess I lost her.”

  “No! You can’t lose her. She’s my sister! We have to find her!”

  Then Mrs. Parsons disappeared.

  “Grace!” Jenny darted from one piece of the broken car to another, lifting it and looking for Grace’s small body. “Honey, I’m here.” She yelled the words, still frantically searching the intersection. “I love you, Grace. Where are you? I need to find you and–”

  There was the sound of screeching tires and the roar of a powerful engine. Jenny looked up and gasped. Something terrifying was hurtling toward her. There was no way out, no way to avoid being run down, and in that instant she screamed in terror.

  Because the thing coming at her was the giant white truck …

  Her eyes flew open and she jumped out of bed, the scream still coming from deep within her. Her heart pounded in her throat, her face damp with sweat and tears.

  “Jenny!” Her mother tore into her room, eyes wide with fear. “What is it?”

  It didn’t matter how often she woke up this way. Each time the sound of her frightened scream terrified both of them. They stared at each other for a beat and then Jenny shuffled across the room and into her mother’s arms.

  “I’m sorry.” She let her head fall against her mother’s shoulder and tried to stop sobbing. “I dreamed it again.”

  The two of them were quiet, but Jenny knew what her mother was thinking. At first, after the accident four years ago, Jenny only dreamed about the happy times, the days when Alicia was still alive. But two years later, Jenny began having horrifying dreams about a giant white truck.

  Brian Wesley, the drunk driver, had been driving a white pickup when he hit them.

  After a month of nightmares, Hannah and Jenny both agreed she needed counseling, needed to talk through the feelings she bottled up back when the accident happened. Twelve weeks of regular sessions with a Christian therapist seemed to be just what Jenny needed. The nightmares stopped and never came back.

  Until now.

  “Honey.” Her mother was calmer now. “We can take
you back to the counselor if you think it would help.”

  Jenny eased out of her mother’s arms. The terror of the dream took minutes to pass and even now her entire body shook. She ran her fingers through her hair and dried her face with the sleeve of her nightgown. “No. I’m okay. I just …” A lump in her throat kept her from speaking.

  Her mother pulled her close once more and stroked her back. “I know honey, I miss her, too.”

  Jenny swallowed and found her voice, new tears spilling onto her face. “I want her back with us, Mom. She’s my sister; nothing can change that.”

  They were silent for a while; then her mom drew back and kissed her cheek. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

  Jenny nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. We all want her back.”

  “It’s not just Grace.” Jenny’s voice was the softest whisper. “I miss Alicia, too. Losing Grace makes everything worse.”

  “I know. It’s the same for me.”

  Jenny studied her mother in the moonlit room as the sobs came once more. There had been a time when Jenny doubted her mother would ever understand. But in the past three years they’d become incredibly close. Jenny was grateful. “I love you, Mom.”

  “Love you, too.” Her mother took hold of Jenny’s hands. “Let’s pray.”

  They whispered in the darkness, begging God to bring them both peace in light of Grace’s absence. And Alicia’s. And to help Jenny’s nightmares go away. When they were done, her mom blew her a kiss and headed for the bedroom door. “See you in the morning.”

  They returned to their separate beds, and Jenny glanced at the clock. It was just after three in the morning. Though she was tired, Jenny lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dream. The counselor had told her that the giant white pickup seemed symbolic, because Jenny had never wanted to hate Brian Wesley over what happened.

  Even that first year after the accident, when her mother was determined to see the man locked up for life for what he’d done, Jenny couldn’t hate him. She’d never hated anyone in her life and feelings that strong scared her. The pain in her heart was great enough simply dealing with the loss of her dad and Alicia without adding hatred to the mix.

  But since she refused to hate the drunk driver, her fear and anger about what happened somehow focused on the white pickup Brian Wesley was driving. After all, that was the only thing Jenny remembered about the accident. One minute she was talking to Alicia about school starting the next day and what teachers they hoped to have and which boys might have changed over the summer.

  The next minute she saw a white pickup barreling down on them.

  Then there was nothing but darkness.

  Jenny rolled over in bed and curled up as small as she could. It was a good thing she had no memory of what happened next. She’d heard the entire story, and that was all the information she needed. If she’d been conscious she didn’t think she would have survived.

  The idea of seeing Alicia dead at the scene from head injuries and her dad trapped in the car while firemen used torches to cut through their car and get him out was more than she could take in. To hear him gasp for breath, knowing that the paramedics were frantically trying to save his life.

  She thanked God she’d seen none of it.

  Her injuries had been minor—a concussion and a broken arm. And the next day when she woke in a hospital bed, her mother was at her side. It was then that she found out what had happened. Since the last thing she remembered was the white pickup truck headed straight for them, it was no wonder that was the source of her nightmares.

  “Daddy, I miss you.” Fresh tears rolled across the bridge of her nose and onto her pillow. “Give Alicia a hug for me.”

  Her whispered words faded into the night and Jenny drifted back to their last camping trip. Everything about that weekend was still as clear and vivid as if it had happened days and not years ago.

  She and Alicia had been inseparable, despite the fact that they were so different. Alicia was pretty and popular, a cheerleader with more friends than any girl at West Hills High School. Jenny was nearly two years younger and had none of her older sister’s charisma and confidence. She was shy and awkward, with a secret desire that one day she might grow up to be like Alicia.

  But despite her busy social schedule and the attention she received from her peers, Alicia preferred spending her free time with Jenny. After school—even up until the day she was killed—she and Alicia would listen to music, or take a walk, or ride bikes together.

  They were more than sisters; they were best friends.

  And the campout with their dad had long been the highlight of every summer vacation. That year they camped at Cachuma Lake, a place known for its fishing spots. The Ryan father-daughter campouts were always marked by lots of time fishing. Fishing and talking.

  Jenny saw that now. Back then she and Alicia would roll their eyes and slip into their old jeans and sweatshirts before the sun came up, complaining about the cold or the early morning hour. “Do we have to fish today?” they’d whine.

  He always acted shocked by their question. He’d silently mouth the question back at them as though nothing could be more outrageous than to wonder about such a thing. “Of course we’re going fishing! Ryans fish; it’s what we do.”

  Jenny blinked away the tears and her sniffle broke the dark silence that surrounded her.

  That last day, the day of the accident, had been just like that. They’d gotten up early and fished by flashlight until the sun came up. When it was time to go, she had the most fish. They were making their way up the shore, Alicia in the lead, teasing Jenny about her catch and how maybe fishing was her talent, when Jenny spotted a coiled rattlesnake and screamed.

  They all froze, which prevented Alicia from stepping squarely on the snake. Their dad, a doctor when he wasn’t fishing, spoke in a voice Jenny remembered still. In his most serious tone, calm and even, he directed Alicia to back away from the rattler one step at a time. Seconds later she was out of danger and the snake slid away.

  For months after the accident Jenny remembered the close encounter with the snake. She couldn’t help think that if she hadn’t screamed, Alicia would have stepped on the snake and been bitten. Though that would have been bad, it would have meant leaving the campsite immediately, before packing up. That way they wouldn’t have passed through the intersection of Fallbrook and Ventura Boulevard at the same exact instant as Brian Wesley.

  And they would have been alive today.

  If only Jenny hadn’t screamed.

  She knew thoughts like that were crazy, but they came anyway. Now that Grace was gone, it made her wonder what she could have done to prevent that from happening. Maybe if she hadn’t given her heart over so quickly, so completely … maybe if she’d allowed the precious girl to be nothing more than a welcomed guest … maybe then Grace’s grandmother never would have come looking for her and today she’d still be living with them.

  Jenny dried her face with the edge of the sheet and turned onto her other side. This time she kept her words silent, allowing them to echo only in the most private places of her heart.

  Lord, I know You can hear me. I have a favor to ask. Please, God, when You see my dad and Alicia today, could You tell them to pray? Have them pray for Grace. Because I don’t believe she’s better off in Oklahoma; I believe she needs to be here with us. And right now I need my dad and my best friend to pray for me. But You see, God, I can’t ask them, because they live in heaven with You. So please, God … ask them for me, okay? And when You do, tell them I miss them. Tell them I always will.

  The idea that she could ask God to give her dad and Alicia messages was one that always brought peace to Jenny’s soul. Despite nightmares about giant white pickup trucks or a little sister she might never see again living a thousand miles away, Jenny drifted off to sleep, resting in the arms of the only One who could keep her dad and Alicia—and now little Grace—alive in her heart.
r />   The only One who could make them feel close enough to touch.

  Nineteen

  The next morning, nothing felt right to Hannah. She waited until Matt and Jenny were gone for the day, poured herself a cup of coffee, and curled up in a deck chair outside. The fog had settled in overnight, and the damp gray of the sea and sky fit Hannah’s mood.

  When Grace was taken from them, she made a decision to handle it well, to show the world and her family how much she’d changed since losing Tom and Alicia four years ago. Losing Grace would not set her back a year, wouldn’t make her turn against God or renounce her faith. It would be painful, but she would survive.

  At least that was the plan.

  Instead she’d been short with Matt, distant from the Lord, and several times she’d canceled her volunteer work at the hospital so she could stay home and clean the house or take walks along the beach. Of course, she always wound up in Grace’s room, straightening her pillow and dusting her shelves. Jenny was the only one who understood. Poor precious Jenny was suffering at least as badly as Hannah.

  The hot steam from her coffee warded off the chill in the morning air, and Hannah held the mug closer to her face. She took a careful sip, wishing the hot liquid could somehow burn away the anger and doubt and bitterness that had crept back into her heart.

  She gazed across the water and bit hard on her lip.

  Why?

  Why did God bring Grace into their lives in the first place? And why had they agreed to take her? She was a foster-adopt child, after all. A child with risks she and Matt had agreed up front not to take. The reason was easy enough. Mrs. Parsons had convinced them. She had told them the chances were basically nonexistent that anything would disrupt Grace’s adoption. And so they’d agreed.

  Many times in the past three weeks, she’d mentioned to Matt that someone ought to do something about the social worker, file a complaint against her or notify her superiors that she’d reneged on a promise. How dare the woman bring Grace into their home and give them time to fall in love with her unless she was absolutely certain that nothing would stop the adoption.