To the Moon and Back

by Karen Kingsbury

  Whatever he tried he couldn’t get comfortable.

  He couldn’t remember actually falling asleep, but in a blurry instant Brady was in the burning warehouse again. The one where he nearly died. Blazing fire exploded all around him and he was pinned beneath the rubble. Suffocating. Dying.

  Help me! he cried out, but no one could hear him. What was happening to him? Why was he reliving the ordeal all over again? The heat grew more intense and Brady could see the skin on his hands start to bubble.

  Help me, someone!

  And then suddenly he could see his mother calling to him. Pretty and kind with the most loving eyes. And she was yelling for him, crying out for him.

  “Brady! Come home!” She held out her hand, but it didn’t reach him in the fiery debris. “Please, Brady . . . I’m waiting for you! Come home!”

  “Mom . . . I can’t move!” Brady screamed the words. “Send someone! I’m dying.”

  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep his eyes open much longer in the searing heat. And his mother’s hand was right there, right in front of him, but he couldn’t grab it. Like it was more apparition than reality. Still he could see her, hear her. Even above the roaring fire.

  Come home, Brady! Please, come home!

  One last time, Brady tried. With everything in him he shouted at her. “Send someone to help me!”

  And the moment the words left his mouth a man appeared. Tall and strong, he tossed aside burning pieces of roof and red-hot metal beams like they were made of paper. One after another, the man moved scorching sections of building away from Brady. He could see the man now. Surreal blue eyes. Blond hair. Even in the midst of the terrible fire Brady knew who it was.

  Jag.

  The stranger at the memorial.

  “It’s time to come home, Brady.” Jag took his hand and helped him to his feet, and at the same time the heat and fire and flaming debris around them disappeared. Brady’s skin was normal and he could breathe again.

  Jag’s eyes pierced his own. “Your mother is waiting for you. Your Father, too.”

  With a shattering gasp, Brady opened his eyes and sat straight up, tangled in his bedsheets. His shorts and T-shirt were drenched with sweat, his lungs heaving. “What in the . . .”

  He jumped out of bed, eyes wide, and looked around. No fire, no broken building parts pinning him to the ground. His breaths came in rapid succession. He was in his bedroom, whole and alive and exhausted.

  But unlike any other dream Brady had ever experienced, this one had been real. He could remember every detail. Smell them. Feel them. And then—in a slow and steady rush—a strange reality dawned on him.

  Jag—whoever he was—had rescued him from the warehouse fire.

  There was no other way Brady would’ve escaped from the collapsed building that day. No one in the department knew how he’d made it out alive. And not only that but maybe Jag had rescued him from the Murrah Building. Wasn’t that what he’d said the other day at the memorial? That he’d seen him when Brady was five?

  A shiver ran down his arms. And now that same Jag had been part of his dream. The man’s words echoed again. It’s time to come home, Brady . . . Time to come home.

  He could see his mother crying out to him, begging him to join her.

  Brady’s heart pounded against the wall of his chest. What did it mean? What was the message? Was Jag a person or was he . . . could he really be an angel? His mind flashed back to their conversation at the memorial.

  Brady had no way of knowing for sure. But Jag’s message was unmistakable. There was a reason Jag had freed him, a reason his mother had appeared to him in the dream.

  And slowly, like all of his life had led to this moment, Brady dropped to his knees. His legs and arms shook and his heart raced within him. He grabbed the edge of his bed and pressed his forehead into the mattress.

  All of it was real. The rescue at the warehouse, the dream, and the cry from Jag and his mother. It was time for Brady to come home. Time for him to stop fighting against the God who was clearly pursuing him.

  “I’m sorry, Lord.” Brady whispered the words into the fitted sheet. “I’m so sorry.”

  With everything in him he could feel himself changing.

  The dream had changed everything, and with his entire being Brady suddenly believed in the truth that his mother was safe in heaven and that he would see her again. And in the reality that Jag had been sent to rescue him. He believed in the obvious fact that Jenna had come back into his life for a reason, and he believed in something else, something he had never expected to believe in again.

  Brady Bradshaw believed in God.

  23

  R ain was forecast that August morning, so Ashley had moved her painting of the Survivor Tree into the kitchen. She was nearly finished. Amy knew, now, that the painting was for her.

  Ashley could hardly wait to hang it in her niece’s room.

  She stood in front of her easel. It had been nearly a week since her call to Brady. If he’d found God, she knew nothing of it. A few days ago she’d received a random text from Brady asking for Ashley’s address. She figured maybe he was going to send her a card or a letter. She had texted back that she was still praying for him, and he had thanked her. That was it.

  Jenna hadn’t reached out again, either.

  The paint on the end of her brush was more brown than green. She dipped the bristles in the palette. Today she was highlighting the trunk of the great elm. Bringing it to life, she liked to say. This part of painting required her greatest skill, her most careful hand. She was focusing on a specific area when the doorbell rang.

  She set down her brush and frowned. If someone had come up the drive, she hadn’t heard the car. It was too early for the kids or Landon to be home. And her father and Elaine were out of town for a few days. Maybe it was one of her sisters.

  She padded across the wood floor to the front door and opened it. For a few seconds she didn’t quite understand what she was looking at. Who she was looking at. But then her mind began to right itself.

  The man standing on her porch was Brady Bradshaw. He had to be, right?

  He was dressed much the way he’d been that day at the memorial. Dark jeans, sweatshirt. In his hands was something Ashley couldn’t believe. She lifted her eyes to his. “Brady?”

  “Yes.” His expression was humble, his face kind. “It’s me.”

  “Is that . . .” Ashley looked at his hands again. He was holding a sapling, a small baby tree with its roots covered in a paper bag.

  “It is.” Brady smiled. “It’s from the Survivor Tree.” He handed the bundle to Ashley. “You asked about getting one for your niece.”

  She took the tree and stared at it. This was the only thing Amy had wanted for the better part of a year. Ashley couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but gaze at the little sapling. “I . . . I can’t believe it.” She stepped back and ushered Brady inside. “Please . . . come in.”

  “I need to go.” Again his tone and expression were gentle. The frustration from the other night completely gone. “I have to make it to Ohio before school gets out.”

  Ashley searched his face. Had he really said that? Did he mean . . . ? “You’re going to see Jenna?”

  “Absolutely.” Brady reached out and shook Ashley’s free hand. “Thank you. For calling me.” A single laugh and he raised his brow. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t.” Ashley still didn’t believe this was happening. “What are you saying, Brady? You believe?”

  Brady’s smile filled his face. “Let’s just say God got my attention. I’ve been praying about seeing Jenna ever since I left home.”

  Joy came over Ashley all at once. She set the sapling on the floor and hugged Brady. Then she stepped back and squealed. “Are you serious? Brady . . . this is amazing.”

  He couldn’t stop grinning. “I can’t say I have it all figured out. But I believe.” For the next few minutes he told her about an older couple, the Fish
ers, and how he had gone to their house the day after Ashley called. And then he told her about his dream.

  Ashley could hardly wait to hear more of the story. “So these people . . . the Fishers . . . they’re Christians?”

  “Definitely.” Brady raised his brow. “They’ve been waiting for me to ask them about God for years.”

  The feelings in Ashley’s heart were more than she could comprehend. She listened while Brady told her about how the Fishers had opened the Bible and looked at a dozen different verses from John and Romans and James. “And then, my dream . . .”

  He seemed overcome by a rush of emotion. He shook his head. “There’s more to it. I don’t know. After that, I could see. Clearly.” The corners of his lips lifted again. “For the first time since I was that five-year-old little boy waking up in the hospital.”

  Ashley thought about her painting. If anyone would want to see it, Brady would. “Let me show you something. In the next room.”

  The two of them walked into the kitchen and Ashley pointed him to the painting. His eyes softened and he nodded slowly. “It’s perfect. Beautiful.” He looked at her. “You must’ve been really affected by the memorial.”

  “Because of my niece. The one I sent you the message about.” Ashley stared at the image. It was almost finished. “Amy, my niece, she lives with us.”

  The situation seemed to make sense to Brady now. “She lives here?”

  Ashley told him about Amy, how her family had been killed in a car accident, and how she was determined to live a life that made them proud. And that was the reason she wanted a sapling from the memorial.

  Again Brady stared at the painting. “No wonder she loves the old tree.”

  “Exactly. Amy . . . she draws strength from her faith every day.”

  Each word seemed to land deeply on Brady. “What a wonderful truth.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the time. “I need to get on the road.”

  Ashley led him back to the foyer and Brady motioned to the sapling. “Tell Amy to take good care of the tree.” His smile faded a little. “And tell her I’m proud of her. For being a survivor.”

  “I’ll tell her.” Ashley was touched that he would go out of his way to come here.

  For a few seconds, Brady hesitated. “Can I ask you for something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Follow me.” He stepped outside.

  The air was warm, but clouds gathered in the distance. All of Bloomington embracing another summer day. She walked beside him to his truck, and saw it before he said anything. There in the bed of the truck.

  Another sapling.

  “You got one, too.” Ashley looked at Brady as he opened his door. Was he taking the little tree to Ohio? A possibility dawned in her heart and worked its way to a hesitant smile. “You’re taking it to Jenna?”

  His eyes lit up with what looked like hope. “Just pray for us. For a second chance.”

  Ashley nodded. “I will. Absolutely.”

  Brady hugged her again and then he slid behind the wheel and closed the door. Ashley watched him go and a thought occurred to her. She wasn’t watching a frustrated, hurt young man set off to whatever was next in his life.

  She was watching a miracle.

  • • •

  JENNA DAVIS WAS in the last half hour of the first Friday in the school year when the principal stepped into the classroom and motioned for her. The woman’s face didn’t look alarmed. But there was an urgency in her expression all the same.

  The new second graders sitting at their desks noticed the interruption. Jenna smiled at the children. “One minute, boys and girls. Please stay in your seats.”

  She walked to the door and moved into the hall with her principal. Ms. Brown spoke first. “You have a visitor. Waiting in the office.” She raised her brow slightly. “Please come straight there ten minutes before the bell rings.” The woman smiled. “I’ll have the vice principal take your students to the buses.”

  A visitor? Who could possibly be here for her? “A man or woman?”

  Ms. Brown paused. “A man.” She smiled. “A very handsome one.”

  Who would be here? And why come to the school without contacting her first? Jenna had no idea. “Thank you. I’ll be there.” She returned to her class. And just like Ms. Brown had said, ten minutes before the bell rang, the vice principal arrived to take over.

  Jenna thanked him and grabbed her things.

  On her way to the office, she tried to imagine who could possibly be waiting for her. The dad of one of her new students, maybe? One of the little girls had told her yesterday that her daddy wasn’t married and he wanted to take Jenna on a date. Jenna hadn’t given any thought to the matter.

  But now . . .

  Curiosity fueled her pace, but it wasn’t until she turned the corner and could see the glass wall of the main office that she stopped short. The man was there, standing near the counter. Jenna could only see his back, but his shoulders were familiar. His dark hair, too.

  What?

  Could it be . . . ?

  She walked to the office door, her heart racing. As she stepped inside, he turned and saw her. Jenna’s breath caught in her throat and she brought her fingers to her lips. It was him.

  Brady Bradshaw. Standing three feet away.

  “Jenna.” He moved toward her. No man had ever looked better. But there was something different about him. Like the hurt was gone for good. He kept a slight distance between them, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Can we talk? Outside?”

  If the office staff was watching the moment play out, Jenna wasn’t aware. All she could see was Brady, all she could hear was his voice, soothing the hurt she still carried in her heart.

  She nodded . Breathe, Jenna. You have to breathe. Was she dreaming? “I . . . I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He smiled. “I’ll explain everything.” He followed her outside. Not until they reached the school’s front walk did they both stop. “I can’t believe you’re really here, Jenna.”

  “Brady . . .” Tears sprang to her eyes. Again, something was different about him. She could sense it. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

  He took her in his arms and held her the way she was aching to be held. They stayed that way for a long moment and then Brady whispered, “I believe, Jenna.”

  “What?” She eased back and searched his face. “You believe?”

  “In God.” His eyes were damp. “It’s a long story. God spoke to me in a dream.” He smiled and she could see he was absolutely telling her the truth. “I’ll tell you everything later, but God changed my heart. My mind. I’ve given my life to Him.”

  His life? Brady was a believer now? Jenna couldn’t stop her tears. “You’re serious?” She reached for his hands. Her knees were shaking, her hands trembling. The feeling of his fingers between hers was too real for this to be a dream. “Is that . . . why you’re here? To tell me?”

  The smile started in his eyes. “It’s part of it.” He released one of her hands and motioned toward the grassy yard in front of the school. “I have something to ask you.”

  Only then, as Jenna turned, did she see what he was looking at. She gasped and stared at the scene.

  Half the school was gathered on the lawn, watching them. The only bare spot was a small circle of grass. And at the center . . . a small potted sapling. “Brady?” Her voice was part cry, part whisper. How could this be happening? When had he made a plan with her school? Jenna could barely breathe. Was he going to . . .

  She couldn’t finish the thought.

  It was all too good to be true.

  “Jenna . . . come on.” This time he led her toward the crowd. With a hundred teachers and students watching, Brady stopped at the center of the open patch of grass and picked up the little tree. He held it out to her. “It’s a sapling.”

  She took the gift as tears fell down her cheeks. “From the Survivor Tree.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I thought it would look go
od in our backyard.”

  She was laughing and crying at the same time. Their backyard? This was really happening. Dear God, I can’t believe it . . . Her heart was bursting inside her.

  Brady was still looking at her, taking his time. “I talked to the fire department in Columbus. They’re ready to hire me . . . and I’m ready to move here. Depending . . .” He took the sapling from her and set it on the ground. Then he took a ring from his jeans pocket and dropped to one knee.

  A buzz ran through the crowd standing nearby, but Jenna couldn’t hear a single word, couldn’t focus on anything but Brady.

  He held the ring up to her. “Jenna, I’ll never love anyone but you. To the moon and back.” Tears fell onto his face, but they didn’t dim his smile. “Will you marry me?”

  Her hands flew to her mouth and she nodded. Then she took the ring as he stood. “Yes, Brady.” She had kept her promise to God, and now she would pledge Brady her life, her heart. “A million times yes.”

  The teachers and students burst into applause; several of them had their cell phones out, capturing the moment. Brady slipped the ring on her finger. Then he took tender hold of her face and kissed her. “I have a long way to go. A lot to learn and understand.” He kissed her again. “Together, Jenna,” he whispered. “We’ll grow closer to God. Every day of our lives.”

  “We will.” Her tears and laughter mixed. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Their lips met again, and around them the crowd cheered.

  Jenna would remember this moment forever. She was certain. Everything she had prayed about was happening in a single instant. Brady was here and he was hers. But so much more than that, he believed now. She couldn’t wait to hear what had happened, how the old couple had helped him.

  She looked at the ring and then back at Brady.

  They were both survivors now. And the sapling would grow up in their backyard, somewhere here in Columbus. They didn’t need the memorial any longer. They were whole and alive and the future was theirs.

  Brady kissed her once more. “I can’t wait to be your husband. God has great things ahead for us, Jenna. I know it.”