Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  He’d wanted adventure, hadn’t he? In a few weeks, he’d be a father.

  A father. Who did he want to be in his son or daughter’s eyes? A man who let fear mold his decisions or a man who made the most of life, letting it take him on a ride worth living?

  “I’m good for it.” He yelled above the noise of the open plane door.

  She squeezed his knee, and they stood as the Otter emptied as one jumper after another leapt from the plane.

  Finn performed his last check, slid his goggles on, and followed Katrina out, the ground clear beneath them, the horizon blue before them.

  And then, peace. A pillow of air, a silence of all things unimportant as he settled in an arch position. Katrina fell below him, her bright blue jacket small in the vast sky. Maybe they should talk tonight. About what he wanted in a relationship, about the possibility of becoming more serious. Maybe Josie didn’t want him, but he couldn’t ignore the deep ache inside, this longing for something more.

  The wind pushed at him, and he gave himself over to it. The sun shone, hovering above the horizon, a cast of pinks and oranges and yellows.

  You have made the heavens and earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.

  The random scripture verses didn’t surprise or even alarm him anymore. Almost like they were a part of him, a part of his childhood he’d stuffed and buried after his mother died and his father turned to the bottle. Though he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a part of his consciousness trying to connect to his long-dead mother, he only knew that instead of guilt, he now found peace in their presence.

  You have made the heavens and earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.

  The feel of the jump, the resonance of the words in his soul caused something within him to sing, to see the world anew.

  Nothing was too hard for God.

  The promise gave him hope. He sank into it.

  He didn’t want to be the man he’d been the last forty years. He wanted to be made new, filled with a purpose that mattered. No doubt part of that included being a good father to his child, but there was more to it—more pieces to fill, more mystery to explore.

  And suddenly, he hungered for it.

  Below him, and far to the right, he spotted a flurry of canopies open, including Katrina’s. He spotted the landing area, knew if he could hit his target in this unpredictable wind he would have proven his skill.

  As soon as the thought crossed his mind though, a gust pushed him with brute force farther away from the other parachutes. He struggled against it, attempted to wiggle his body like a fish to get closer to the landing zone to no avail.

  The ground approached fast. He’d have to pull his chute, try to toggle himself to safe landing. Just as he was about to open his chute, another squall carried him farther away, toward a large copse of trees. He searched for an open landing, but saw none unless another wind gust came to carry him farther north.

  He pulled his chute, seeing power lines in the not-too-far distance among the trees. The foliage looked beautiful—soft even—deceivingly so, for they proved a danger. Still, he’d choose them over power lines any day.

  He toggled toward the trees fast. Another gust of wind had him hitting the treetop hard, branches jabbing and jarring his limbs, scraping his chest and face, catching in webbing and chute. A sharp lurch caused something in his neck to snap and then, everything went black and numb before him.

  His last thought was of that awe-inspiring sunset, the verse in his head.

  Nothing is too hard for you.

  He supposed he would see about that.

  I stared at my phone and the picture I’d sent Finn two days ago now. Our child, eyes open and staring at the camera, tufts of dark hair sticking up. Underneath I’d written:

  Amos Arthur Martin

  September 18th

  1:38PM

  8lbs, 3 oz

  I’d sent the text forty-five hours ago now, and still no response. I couldn’t feign surprise or disappointment. In some ways, it’d be easier if Finn chose to be uninvolved.

  And yet how could he see this adorable picture of our child and ignore it? It was one thing to try to cast off the babe while just a notion in my womb, but now, with the evidence of his glorious little fingers and toes, the small little nose, his thin searching mouth?

  I turned onto my side to study my son’s profile, mesmerized by his features so perfectly knit together within me. Though I couldn’t wait to get home, I’d suffered some intense bleeding the day before, and the hospital staff decided to keep me another day. Tripp worked on finishing the apartment upstairs from the bookshop. The thought of bringing Amos home to our little piece of heaven thrilled me.

  My phone vibrated beside me, and I scooped it up, not recognizing the number. Probably the lactation specialist calling to make a follow-up appointment. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Josie?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Hi, Josie. This is Professor Rutherford.”

  My mind tripped on itself, so far removed was the world of school and psychology and New York from anything I’d thought about these past couple of weeks, and certainly these past couple of days. “Professor, wow. This is a surprise.”

  “Yes, well it was quite a surprise not to see your name on the fall roster. I’m calling because I’m looking for help for my private office. I can’t quite seem to get the idea out of my mind that you’d be perfect for the job. Is there any chance you’ll be reenrolling in the new year?”

  “I’m sorry, Professor. I thought Professor Becker might have told you. Unfortunately, I won’t be returning to NYU.”

  But I didn’t really mean the “unfortunately” part, did I? Before Amos was born, I hadn’t questioned my decision not to return. But now, with this tiny bundle in my arms, I couldn’t fathom leaving Camden for New York. I couldn’t fathom wanting to chase the business of classes and school, competing for a spot on the Dean’s list.

  This offer only confirmed my decision.

  Professor Rutherford cleared her throat. “Professor Becker…no, last I spoke to him he didn’t know of your plans. Shame about his accident…but dear, are you certain I can’t persuade you to return? Even if it was just for a work position?”

  My mind stalled on the word accident, imagining the worst. Did that explain Finn’s silence these last two days?

  “I’m afraid not, Professor. I really am flattered you’d think of me, though. Um, I haven’t heard from Finn in a couple weeks. Is he okay?”

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but there was a complication on his latest skydiving jump. He has a lot of broken bones and a back injury. They’re not sure he’ll walk again.”

  I shook my head back and forth, disbelieving the professor’s words even as I could see their truth. To imagine Finn—so active, always searching for the next adventure—bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, was as hard as imagining Mom without her kitchen, Amie without her paints, me without my books.

  “I—I can’t believe it.”

  “Very sad. Some of the faculty are going to visit him this week, but it won’t be an easy road ahead, I’m afraid. But Finn’s a conqueror. I never did know a more determined man. I’m trusting he’ll be okay.”

  “I—what hospital is he at?”

  “New York-Presbyterian in Lower Manhattan.”

  “Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it.”

  “Now, are you certain I can’t change your mind about that job?”

  Laying on my right arm, Amos squirmed.

  “I’m afraid not, but again, I’m honored you’d think of me. I hope you find the perfect person for what you have in mind.”

  “Me too, dear. Now don’t waste those brains, my girl. Use them up on something good, you hear me?”

  I smiled, despite the fact I was still trying to come to grips with Finn and his injuries. “I will. I promise. Thank you, Professor.”

&nb
sp; “Take care, now.”

  We hung up, and I leaned my head back on the hospital bed, closed my eyes, and imagined Finn in another hospital bed miles away—not rejoicing over the birth of a new life as I was, but mourning the loss of the life he’d known. For a long time, I grappled with denial over such an accident. Then, perhaps selfishly, I wondered if this might change things for me and Amos.

  Finn seemed intent on being part of Amos’s life. Like it or not, I was tied to Finn. I needed to reach out, make an effort where I could. If not for his sake, then for Amos’s.

  I pulled up Finn’s name on my phone and called him. It rang and rang, going to voice mail. “Hey, Finn. It’s Josie. Professor Rutherford told me what happened and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Ugh, probably the world’s top ten stupidest things to say. “Sorry, that’s ridiculous. Of course you’re not okay. Give me a call when you can. And Finn, your son is gorgeous.”

  I hung up, kicking myself for my jumbled, insensitive words, surprised I cared how they might affect him. I’d been mad for so long, but here and now, I only felt pity. Pity for a man who’d searched for purpose in a variety of things that would all fail him now. He had no family—both parents long dead. Colleagues would visit him in the hospital once, maybe twice. I didn’t think, with his recent marriage proposal, that he had any special love interest to help him. Finn worked hard at being independent.

  I remembered the last words of our last conversation, Finn standing before me, whole and healthy, how I’d surprised myself at my offering of grace.

  “If I ever had a family, I’d want it to be like the Martin family. Now, our child will be a part of it. That’s something special, Josie.”

  “You’re of a part of it too now, Finn. Okay? Family’s more than marriage ties and bloodlines, and I want you to come visit our child as much as you want.”

  Family. Tripp had taught me so much of what it meant to love in the chaos these past several months. And hadn’t I told Finn he was family, that I would consider him as such for the sake of our child? For the sake of peace?

  But where did that leave me now?

  I swallowed, watched Amos’s eyelids flutter in sleep, wondered again at the legacy his grandfather left for him. Not in riches and gold, but in charity and faith.

  I picked up my phone again and dialed Tripp’s number.

  28

  Tripp stood above Josie’s hospital bed, drinking in the sight of her with Amos—a babe he’d already come to love as his own. He studied her, tried to look deeper. As if studying would help the words she’d spoken connect in his head.

  “I’m sorry. Please say that again, my darling, because I thought you just asked me to drive seven hours to play nursemaid to your ex-boyfriend who knocked you up then fed you to the fishes.”

  “Tripp.” The wounded look on her face made him rethink himself.

  He sat on her bed, shook his head. “I’m sorry, Josie, it’s just—what do you owe this guy? I mean, it stinks what happened to him, it really does. But maybe that’s why normal people don’t go jumping out of planes in the first place.”

  Okay, he was angry. No use denying it. Apparently he’d never forgive the learned professor for what he’d done to Josie.

  “He doesn’t have anyone, Tripp. I’d go myself if I could. I even thought of asking Bronson but he just started classes and is studying his brains out for an upcoming exam. I know I’m asking a lot. I know you have your work and all that, but there’s something within me—something almost urgent—telling me he needs us. I told him I’d consider him family.”

  Tripp grit his teeth. She wanted to be a family with the guy now? Fine. But that didn’t mean he had to get in on it.

  He twirled from the bed, paced the floor toward the door and then back again. He supposed he should be grateful Josie wasn’t in a position to up and drive to New York. Wasn’t there something women were known to fall into—Florence Nightingale syndrome or some such hogwash? Still, it bothered him that she cared so much.

  “Tripp.” She held out her hand to him. She looked so vulnerable beneath the white sheets, her thick hair in a braid, the nursing tank she wore forming to her curves. He closed his eyes. That was certainly not where his mind needed to be. She squeezed his hand, gave him a playful smile that told him she’d caught the direction of his gaze. “Seriously. You showed me so much this past year. After rejecting your proposal, ignoring you for months, running into another man’s arms. I didn’t deserve any of the love you gave me. But you loved me nonetheless.”

  “Because I do love you. It wasn’t hard, Josie. Well, it wasn’t hard some of the time.”

  Those gray eyes seared his heart. “Maybe love counts more in the hard. Remember the seedling, Tripp? Dad’d be on a train to check on Finn even if he hadn’t seen him in years. I’m asking a big favor, I know. I’m asking you to take his place. To do this thing because it’s right. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t, I promise. But I have to at least ask.”

  He groaned. God knew he loved her, but everything about this went outside his comfort zone—trains, the big city, strange hospitals, paralyzed professors. He sniffed hard, knew he would end up doing it, no matter how hard, because he loved her.

  “What do you want me to do when I get there? What do you want me to say? I mean, what do you say to a guy who’s just lost everything?”

  “You tell him he hasn’t.”

  Tripp’s gaze fell to Amos. Right. Finn’s son. Not his.

  Man, this was hard. How much easier to be hundreds of miles away from Amos’s real father, to hole up in their safe little bubble in Camden and pretend he didn’t exist?

  But that wasn’t right either. Poor guy was practically in a body cast from the sounds of it. What did God want Tripp to do?

  Seek justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.

  Tripp rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  Josie squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I don’t take it lightly. Really, Tripp. And I know you’ll help him. I have this feeling.”

  He kissed her, then ran a hand over Amos’s head, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead. “You better be praying for me the whole time, because I’m going to need all the heavenly help I can get.”

  She grinned. “I will be. And…I love you.”

  He moved closer again, covered her mouth with his own. When they parted, he glanced down at Amos. “I love you, too. And I can’t believe how I already love this little guy here. There’s nothing more I want to do than be with you both, watch over you and keep you safe forever.”

  “I know. That’s why your going means so much to me.”

  “I better go pack a bag. I’ll call you when I get there?”

  “You better. Tripp…thank you. Really and truly.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Josie. It’s going to take a miracle for this to go anywhere near well.”

  I lugged Amos’s car seat up the stairs to my new apartment, Maggie following close behind. “I’m going to be skinny in no time,” I grunted.

  My sister shouldered my hospital bag. “You sure will. Never mind running—carrying that guy around and going up and down these stairs will have you back in shape by Thanksgiving.”

  I opened the door to the apartment, a bit cowed by the thought of all that was to be done. Lizzie said she’d prepared my bed and the crib, but surely there’d be boxes to unpack, baby things to buy.

  “Surprise!”

  I gasped at the sight before me—Mom, Lizzie, Bronson, Amie, Aunt Pris, Esther, and even August squeezed into the tiny apartment. Blue and white balloons tied to a plush glider. Tasteful, sheer curtains hung on the windows. My bookshelf with some of Dad’s beloved books. A quick glance into the two adjoining rooms showed my room with my bedspread and pillows, a bassinet on the side. And Amos’s room with his crib, a sweet little animal mobile hanging, stacks of diapers beside it, a little bookshelf with classics such as Goodnight, Moon and The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

  “Guys�
�” Tears pricked my eyelids. I looked at their expectant faces, smiles on all of them—even Aunt Pris’s. “You didn’t have to…oh, but I’m so very glad you did.” I placed Amos’s car seat on the floor, hugged each one of them. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  “Tripp stayed up all night to finish the bathroom,” Bronson said. “Aunt Pris and Mom went shopping, and Lizzie and Amie set it all up.”

  I shook my head. “I have the best family a girl could ask for. And no matter what anyone says, Amos has a good start in life because he already knows all of you.” I thought of Tripp, working to make this dream come true. Again. Staying up all night to make sure I had a place—a home—to come home to, and then taking off for a long drive to New York City. I’d call him soon. I could only hope he’d opted for the train but experience told me otherwise.

  “And look.” Amie took my hand and dragged me into Amos’s room. She pointed at the top molding of his bookshelf where she’d painted a small mouse reading a book. “Little Mouse. Get it?”

  I threw my arms around her. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I pulled back from her. “I’m so glad you were the one with me when I went into labor. Are we okay, Amie?”

  She kissed my cheek. “Yes. I was terrible to you, and I’m sorry. Maybe I do have some growing up to do. You know, seeing you deliver Amos, seeing the birth of a new life…it really hit me how fast things can change, how precious this life is—how precious you and all my siblings are. I don’t want to waste any more time on grudges or lost loves. Even if it might be hard, I’m ready to move forward.”

  I hugged her again, and we joined the others, where I caught Mom unbuckling Amos from his car seat, totally disregarding the “never wake a sleeping baby” rule.

  “So, I have to know. How bad was the damage to the Alcott room? I’m assuming we have to replace the rug after Amos baptized it in his birth waters.”