Because after today, he would never know.
13
T he painting was developing beautifully, better than Ashley had hoped. Landon was at work and the kids were at school, but the hours were flying by. Ashley had set her easel up outside on the front porch. The sky was blue, the air warm.
No better day to paint.
Her pieces were still being sold at the gallery in downtown Bloomington. The shop owner had asked for more of her work. Lately, people from all over the country stopped in asking about Ashley’s art. Her paintings were going for five times the price she’d originally set. Enough to put aside money for the kids’ college tuitions. Since those days were fast approaching.
Ashley stared at the canvas. The Survivor Tree looked lifelike, its branches spread out over the patio. She was using a photo she’d taken at the memorial. Not everyone who saw it would know what it was. But some would. And for those people this image would be everything. To Amy it would.
Especially if she didn’t hear back from Brady about the sapling.
Her heart drifted to Landon. The day after Amy’s play she had told him about her text and Facebook message to Brady.
He had come in from the porch, looking to talk to her. When he walked through the door Ashley met him in the foyer. He looked physically sick. The slow way he walked, his resigned expression, the hurt and discouragement in his eyes.
Without saying a word she had come to him and slipped her arms around his neck. For a long time they stood there, clinging to each other. No words needed.
He leaned back enough to look at her. “I can’t think or work.” He’d searched her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ash.” He paused. “Yesterday . . . I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry, too. I just . . . I didn’t see the problem.” She had known even then that she had crossed the line. “A few days ago . . . I texted him. I didn’t tell you, Landon. I’m so sorry.” A quick breath. “And then . . . last night while you were cleaning out the canoe I private-messaged him on Facebook.” She hadn’t waited for his reaction. “That was wrong. I should’ve talked to you first.”
The news had seemed to hit Landon like a round of pellets. Like hearing it wasn’t comfortable. But he could take it. He swallowed and after a while he nodded. “You can do this, Ash. I won’t stand in your way.”
She had felt her heart melt. “Not if it’s going to come between us.”
“It’s not, Ashley.” He looked almost desperate. “Nothing could come between us.” He placed his hands on the sides of her face and his words had gone easily to the deepest place of her heart. “Nothing. Not ever.”
After that, Landon had listened patiently while she explained what she’d written to Brady and how she hoped he could help get a sapling for Amy.
Then Landon had taken hold of her hands, the two of them still standing just inside the front door. “I may never get this, Ash.” He smiled and shook his head. “But I get you. The girl I married. Wanting to help someone, whatever the cost.”
“Exactly.” Tears had filled her eyes.
He kissed her and his lips lingered for a minute or more. The two of them finding their way back to north. “Help the guy find Jenna.” He crooked his finger and put it gently beneath her chin. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
“Thank you.” She dabbed at a single tear. “I needed to hear that.”
“But . . .” He had run his fingers lightly through her hair. “If this doesn’t work out. If you don’t find her in the next few days . . .” He paused, his eyes locked on hers. “Please, Ash, in that case let it go. Otherwise . . .”
“Otherwise?” Even now Ashley could hear the conversation playing in her mind. “Otherwise what?”
“Well.” He had kissed her cheek and then her lips once more. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Ash. You don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”
Ashley had smiled. “Deal.” Landon was right. The last thing Ashley needed was a young firefighter pen pal.
So the two of them had come up with a reasonable plan. Three days. Then she’d check to see if he’d written back.
Today was the third day.
A car pulled into her driveway and slowed as it came closer. Ashley stood. Her father! She loved afternoons like this when her dad stopped by unannounced. It was one of the joys of his retirement. Or at least his semiretirement. He still taught classes and gave lectures at the hospital.
But he had freedom for times like this.
Her dad parked and walked up the path. He carried a flat of bright red strawberries. “Hi there!”
“Hi!” Ashley met him at the top of the porch steps. “What a surprise!”
He hugged her and held out the berries. “Farmers’ market got an early crop.”
“All this warm weather.” Ashley took the fruit. “Wanna come in?”
“Let’s sit out here.” Her dad tilted his face to the sun, already making its way toward the horizon. “No place like this old porch.”
Ashley smiled. “I’ve thought that since I was a little girl.” She ran the strawberries inside and returned with two glasses of lemon water. “Here.” She handed him one and they took the rocking chairs, side by side a few feet from her easel.
He glanced at her painting as he sat down. “Beautiful.” He paused, really studying the piece. “You’re so talented.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
His eyes were still on her work. “That tree. It looks familiar.” He narrowed his brow. “An American elm, right?”
“It is.” Ashley looked from the painting back to her dad. “It’s called the Survivor Tree.”
Slowly, he nodded. “Ahh, yes.” He paused. “The Oklahoma City bombing.”
“Right.” Ashley took a sip of water and stared at the yard. The open fields and red oaks that dotted their property. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed her dad was more interested than what might be normal. A quick glance his way. “We went there for spring break.”
“Yes.” Her father’s tone said there was definitely something on his mind. “I talked to Kari yesterday. She told me about the young man. The firefighter you saw at the memorial.”
Ashley braced herself. She resisted the urge to say anything biting. Really? Kari had talked to their dad about this? What was with everyone? Her days as the black sheep were a lifetime ago. That didn’t mean she’d make a mess of things now.
Ashley took a slow breath. “Did she tell you about the letter?”
“Yes.” Her dad searched her eyes. “I’m not worried, Ash. If that’s what you’re thinking.”
She was quiet.
“That’s not why I stopped by.” He smiled and patted her hand. “Your faith in God . . . your love for Landon. Clearly you only want to help.”
Relief spilled from her head to her heart. “Thank you.”
“I do think you need to be careful.” His expression was still warm. “You don’t know this young man.”
Ashley nodded. “I get that. I’ve told Landon all about it.” She paused, searching his eyes. “Dad. It’s fine.”
“Okay.” He leaned back in the rocker. “So you’re trying to find the girl this young man is looking for?”
“Yes. Jenna. I don’t have a last name.” Ashley felt the weight of discouragement. “It really seemed God put me next to the guy for a reason. Like I was supposed to help.” She shook her head. “But I haven’t found her.”
Her dad drank half the water in his glass. Then he set it down on the porch railing and stood. “Have you tried looking up her parents?” He turned and leaned against the railing.
Ashley was struck by his kindness. He really was only trying to help. Finding a reason to bring by some berries and talk a bit. “Her parents?” She settled into the chair. His question was interesting.
“They were both killed in the bombing. That’s what Kari said.” Her dad looked at her. “There were only so many couples in the building. I keep thinking maybe if you search that, maybe you’ll find that one of them had a daughter named
Jenna.”
“Hmm.” Ashley hadn’t thought about that. She’d read the list of victims, of course. When she’d first Googled Jenna’s name in relation to the Oklahoma City bombing. But she’d never thought to check the husband and wife pairs killed in the bombing, and then look up their children. “You’re thinking someone might have written about them?”
“Maybe.” Her dad angled his head. His face was tan from his daily walks with Elaine. He continued. “The twenty-year anniversary was a few years ago. Everyone was doing stories on what happened. It’s possible someone did a follow-up on the deaths of people with the same last name. The children orphaned.”
“You’re right.” Ashley felt a surge of hope. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You have a lot on your plate.” Her father laughed. “Like four kids to feed and help with homework.” He shrugged. “If I’d known her last name, I would’ve already looked myself.”
“See?” Ashley laughed, too. “Now you know where I get it!”
“True.” He paced to the spot in front of her easel.
Ashley appreciated her father’s heart, his time. More than he would ever know. “I think there’s a spiritual side to all this, too.”
“For the guy?” Her dad turned to her.
“For both of them, maybe.” Ashley stood and looked at her dad for a minute. “I guess we won’t know until we find her.”
“Until you find her.” He chuckled. “I have a paper to write for the hospital administration. I’m presenting it next week.”
“So here we are”—she smiled—“two fairly busy people. And we can’t stop thinking about how to help a stranger.” Ashley paused. “God’s up to something. I have to believe it.”
“Well.” He breathed deep and glanced at her easel once more. “I’ll let you get back to your painting.” He grinned at her. “Just thought it’d be better to talk about this in person.”
Ashley understood what he meant. If he had texted or called, she might’ve misunderstood him. She could’ve assumed he was doubtful about her intentions. But that wasn’t the case at all.
He only wanted to help.
The way he always did.
She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Tell Elaine I said hi.” She stepped back and smiled. “And thanks for the berries. The kids will love them.”
“Elaine’s making shortcake back at home.” He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “She made enough for the neighborhood.”
“I have an idea!” Ashley laughed. “Why don’t you and Elaine join us for dinner? Landon’s grilling, and Elaine can bring the shortcake.”
Her dad nodded. “Sounds like a perfect night. I’ll talk to Elaine.” He paused at the bottom of the stairs. “I love this, Ash. Being so close. Having time with you and your siblings.”
“We love it, too.” She waved and watched him leave, waited as his car moved along their paved drive to the road.
As soon as he was out of sight she went inside, found her laptop and brought it back out to the front porch. Why hadn’t she thought about looking up Jenna’s parents? Like her dad said, there were only so many couples killed in the bombing. She Googled the list of victims.
She went through a full search of the surviving family members of couples killed in the tragedy. Then she came to Bill and Betsy Phillips. “Bill and Betsy Phillips.” Ashley whispered their names as she typed them into the search line. Then she typed “survivors.”
Suddenly she was looking at a headline.
WHERE ARE THEY NOW? CHILDREN ORPHANED BY THE OKLAHOMA CITY BOMBING.
Ashley felt her heart skip a beat. Could Bill and Betsy be Jenna’s parents? The article was in The Oklahoman, still online after a decade. She opened it and began to read. The first part of the article led to a section titled “Life After the Bombing—Bill and Betsy Phillips.” Beneath that was a list of their surviving family members, including a daughter named Elizabeth Jenna Phillips.
Elizabeth Jenna Phillips?
Ashley felt the porch begin to spin. Her heart pounded as she read this part of the story.
Elizabeth Jenna Phillips was just five years old when her parents went to work that April 19 and never came home. She lived with her grandmother for the rest of her school years.
Ashley kept reading. The article was heartbreaking, detailing the jobs the little girl’s parents had held, and how long they’d worked at the Alfred P. Murrah Building. But nothing more about the child.
In a rush, Ashley switched to Facebook. “Elizabeth Jenna Phillips,” she typed. Four matches came up, but none were younger than forty. She searched again with just “Jenna Phillips,” but again, nothing.
She was so close. Ashley tapped her fingers on the table. “Come on.” There had to be something. Please, God, lead me to her. Ashley took a deep breath and tried again. This time she Googled “Elizabeth Jenna Phillips” and “Oklahoma City Bombing.”
The results that came back were slightly different.
Top of the list was an article titled ORPHANS OF OKLAHOMA CITY—TWENTY YEARS LATER.
Ashley couldn’t read the story fast enough. The opening paragraph explained that in honor of the twenty-year anniversary the paper was doing a series of profiles on the victims and their surviving family members. How life had changed when the bomb exploded through the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building.
“Dear God, thank You,” Ashley whispered. Her hands trembled as she scanned the article for the names Bill and Betsy Phillips. The two weren’t quite thirty years old when they reported for work at the federal building in downtown Oklahoma City that April 19, 1995. Betsy on the third floor, and Bill on the fifth.
Ashley could picture the couple saying goodbye to their little girl, heading off to work. Parking across the street and climbing out of the same car, headed to their separate jobs. They couldn’t have known it would be the last time.
Ashley kept reading. Both Bill and Betsy were killed when the bomb went off, but their only daughter, five-year-old Elizabeth Jenna, had survived. Safe at home with her grandmother, who had moved to Oklahoma City a year before the bombing. Otherwise she might’ve been in the daycare when the attack happened.
Apparently the child went by the name Jenna. Her grandmother once said even though her daughter and son-in-law had missed seeing Jenna grow up, they would’ve been grateful she survived. Grateful that she had been raised by her grandmother. The girl had eventually finished school and married.
Married? Ashley closed her eyes. Brady was going to be heartbroken. She couldn’t imagine being the one to tell him the news. That is, if this was her. And Ashley believed it was.
She opened her eyes and kept reading.
This part of the feature finished with Elizabeth Jenna Phillips—now Davis—graduated from college in Texas and is currently a teacher in Columbus, Ohio.
That was all there was. The article ended with a section on the memorial, the husband-and-wife team who designed it and how many visitors came through each year.
Ashley’s head was spinning.
She stared at the screen.
She couldn’t believe it! This was the best and worst news. She’d found Brady’s girl, but she was married. She was Jenna Davis now. A teacher in Columbus. At least it seemed that way. Ashley wasn’t sure what to do next. She started to set the laptop down, to head inside the house, but then she stopped herself.
Where was she going? She couldn’t call Brady out of the blue. Besides, she hadn’t actually found Jenna. But she’d most likely found more information than Brady had discovered in all these years.
All because of her father’s suggestion.
Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely type. Facebook. She needed to look there first. In case Jenna Davis wasn’t the one Brady was looking for. She entered “Jenna Davis” in the search line and several names appeared. One of them lived in Columbus.
She clicked it. “God, You’re amazing.” She whispered the words, her eyes glued to the young woman’s profile page as
it came up. Jenna Davis. Teacher at Martin Luther King Junior Elementary School. Ashley enlarged her profile picture as big as she could make it.
The photo was of Jenna surrounded by twenty children. Ashley hesitated. If this was Brady’s Jenna, married and living in Columbus, at least he’d have closure. Maybe that’s what she was supposed to bring to the situation. A reason for Brady to let go. She scrolled down Jenna’s page.
Ashley kept reading until she saw something that stopped her cold. It was a status she’d posted on Christmas Eve.
A status that changed everything.
Beneath a Christmas photo of the front door of what must’ve been Jenna’s house she had written this: Thankful that with God, I’m not alone this Christmas. I never will be.
Alone? Ashley blinked a few times, trying to understand. Another five minutes of searching her time line and Ashley was sure. Jenna was divorced. Whatever had happened, the young woman seemed to have faith and hope. At least according to her Christmas post.
Ashley hurt for Jenna, for everything the girl had been through. Losing her parents when she was so little, and then losing her husband. Whatever the situation. Yet, she appeared to be making it on her own. She seemed to enjoy teaching.
Assuming this was the same girl Ashley had been looking for, what did Jenna think about Brady?
Did he ever cross her mind? Or had she forgotten him after their one day together? Ashley looked more closely at Jenna’s face. The sweet girl-next-door look. But even still the hurt was there in her pretty green eyes.
Ashley took a deep breath. What to do next? Suddenly she remembered her message to Brady. All this time she’d been on Facebook studying Jenna’s profile and she hadn’t thought to check her in-box. She glanced at the icon on her screen and sure enough, there was a message.
She opened it and immediately she saw who it was from.
To the Moon and Back Page 14
