A Promise to Remember (22 page)

As she pulled out of the driveway, she felt a strange sense of
lightness. Finally, she was doing something. She'd spent too long
waiting for life to happen to her. Now, she was taking charge of
her situation. It felt good.

The Santa Barbara streets were dressed in eerie shadows,
broken at intervals by the orange glow of streetlamps. She turned
into the company's parking lot, noting only a few cars.

Several of the programmers were getting advanced degrees
from UCSB by day, so they worked long and late hours. Blair's
car would he parked in one of the reserved underground parking
spaces-no need to look for it.

She walked to the back door and pulled. It rattled in her
hand, then slipped from her grip. Locked.

Through the glass, she saw Neil Parker peek around the wall
of his cubicle, squinting with furrowed brows. His smile grew wide when he recognized her. He jumped up and ran to open
the door.

"Hey, Mrs. Phelps. Sorry about having you locked out, but
I didn't know you were coming. Did Blair forget something?
Need me to get into his office for you?"

I ... uh ... well, isn't he here?"

Neil looked over his shoulder toward the hallway that led to
Blair's office. "Don't think so. Come on in-we'll take a look."

Andie followed Neil past the row of cubicles, down the long
hallway, and up the stairs to the second floor. Blair's office was
dark. She must have passed him somewhere on the road.

When they started down the steps, another young programmer, whose face Andie did not recognize, was climbing up. He
carried a steaming cup of coffee and had bleary eyes with dark
circles underneath, a badge of honor in his field.

Neil stopped. "Hey, Gary, is Blair still around somewhere?"

"Blair? Nope. Saw him loading up in his car just as I was
coming in."

Andie's heart thumped inside her with a new kind of dread.
She tried to force a conversational tone from her terrified lips.
"What time was that?"

Only then did Gary seem to notice that Neil wasn't alone.
"Let's see, I drove through Burger King after my last class, so
it must've been around six." Joe nodded and continued up the
stairs, seemingly unaware of the blow he'd just dealt Andie.

Neil shifted his weight to his left foot and turned for a final
glance up the stairs. Andie could almost hear him willing some
logical explanation to spring to his lips. She held her breath and
waited. She was out of excuses.

His face lit. "I remember now. That weird-looking guy who
serves all the legal stuff was in today. When Blair left, he was
carrying an envelope with him. I'll bet he was going to your
lawyer's office."

What legal papers would have been served today? Andie did
remember Sam had said something about an amended complaint, but she hadn't wanted to think about it. As much as she
tried to ignore it and hope it would go away, the lawsuit was
moving forward, ripping apart any shreds of hope in her life.

"He must have forgotten to call you."

Think, Andie, think. Whatever is going on with Blair; you
don't want all his employees gossiping about it. You have enough
problems without taking private matters public.

She forced herself to smile, although she suspected Neil saw
it for the weak imitation it was. "He probably tried. I was out
with friends and the battery in my cell phone is dead. That's
what I get for not keeping it charged."

Neil nodded, and the crease across his forehead relaxed. "He's
probably worried sick." He walked Andie to the door. "Have a
nice evening, Mrs. Phelps. I'll watch to make sure you make
it to your car."

"Thanks."Andie walked through the parking lot, concentrating on taking deep breaths. She'd held it together this long,
she didn't want to lose it now. When she reached her car, she
exhaled slowly and turned back toward the building. Neil waved.
She returned the gesture. Just a few more seconds of control. You
can do it, Andie.

She dropped into the driver's seat and closed the door. As
she drove toward her empty home, she wondered what to fear.
The thought of Blair meeting with Sam renewed her dread of
the upcoming lawsuit. The thought of him somewhere else
altogether frightened her even more.

Jake paced through the workshop, watching for the telltale flash
of headlights. He hadn't been able to concentrate since Melanie
called and asked if she could stop by on her way home from
work. What was it about her that kept him so off-balance?

He knew he needed to stay away from her, but what would
that do for her renewed interest in God? He couldn't let her stray
because he didn't have the fortitude to resist a few adolescent
hormones. No, he could, and would, control his emotions. It
would pass soon enough.

A flash of headlights scurried across the walls, then went
dark. Tempted to pretend to be working on a bike, Jake thought
better of it. He walked to the door and stood waiting for her as
she climbed out of her car.

Her feet appeared to be heavy as she trudged toward him.
When she got into the light, he could see the lines of fatigue
on her face.

"Come in. I've just made a pot of decaf, if you'd like some."

"Sounds good." She followed him back to his office. He suddenly felt the emptiness of the building around them, and for
the first time he could remember, it felt oppressive.

"First off, I'm sorry about yesterday. I have no right telling a
grieving mother that she shouldn't be spending so much time
at her son's grave. That was out of line."

Melanie lifted her left shoulder and tilted her head. Subject
closed. "Don't worry about it. So is that what you wanted to
talk to me about?"

"This meeting was your idea."

"I know, but when I called earlier, you said you wanted to
talk to me anyway. Was that it?"

"Uh-uh. You first." He smiled. That way, if you get mad about
what I say, we'll at least have both conversations out of the way
before you race out of here."

Her head began to slowly nod, then faster, until a burst of
laughter erupted. "I like the way you lay it all on the line. Don't
find too many people who do that these days." She took a sip of
the coffee, still nodding her head. "You've got a point. Okay, I'll
shoot. Something Sarah said has been bothering me. I meant
to ask you about it last night, but ... well ..."

No need to say more on that subject. "Bothering you how?"

"I'm afraid she's putting pressure on herself where it shouldn't
be, and I wanted to hear your take on it." She spent the next
few minutes telling of the conversation she'd had with Sarah
at church last Sunday. "She just lost her brother, and at her
age, she's under enough pressure. I don't want her all worked
up about my soul when she has so many other things to deal
with."

Jake prayed for wisdom in his answer. He didn't want to say
anything to offend Melanie, but he wanted to answer with full
truth, as well.

"That is part of the teaching of the Bible, you know. We are
supposed to make disciples, tell others, spread the Good News.
It's a big part of what Christianity is about."

"Yeah, but I'm her mom. I'm supposed to be the one worrying
about her. She's got enough of her own problems."

"Doesn't the fact that she's still concerned about your soul,
in the midst of her own troubles, give you an inkling of how
important this is to her? Most teenage girls are so wrapped up
in the here and now they wouldn't think of such things. This
shows me the depth of character and commitment that Sarah
has-not that I've ever doubted it. She's a remarkable young
lady."

Melanie nodded and swirled her cup in her hands. "Yes, she
is. What I need to know is, how can I take this burden off her?
What would I need to do to set her mind at ease you know,
close this page in her book? I'm a good person. I don't know
why she is so concerned about my soul."

"We believe there is more to it than being a good person.
Salvation is a deliberate choice, and no one can make that
choice for another. Only when you decide to confess your sins
before God, ask forgiveness through the shed blood of Jesus,
and accept Him as your Lord and Savior, would that `page of
her book,' as you call it, be closed. Now and forever."

"That's more than I want to do at this point."

"Maybe if you let her know you're giving the matter some
thought, it would help ease her mind, huh?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. Now, what was it you wanted to see me
about?"

"I've been thinking about our last conversation."

She grinned at him. "You mean fight."

He shook his head and laughed. "Disagreement."

Her eyes almost danced when she smiled. "Whatever. What
about it?"

"Well, it seems to me-and correct me if I'm wrong-that
you are very concerned that Jeff will not be remembered. That
his legacy will be forgotten. Am I right?"

Her eyebrows lifted and the corners of her mouth curled
down. "Very perceptive."

Jake's pulse raced. Okay, your suspicion is confirmed. She's
prepared for some form of judgmental response; proceed with caution. Remember what you planned to say. Why did it seem so
much harder than he had expected? Deep breath. Press foiward.
"The kids from youth group all loved Jeff. He touched several
of their lives in ways you probably don't even know about. I'd
like to plan a memorial service."

Her face brightened and she leaned forward in her seat.

She doesnt think it's pushy-she likes the idea. "Most of our
college group missed the funeral because they were back at
school. If we do it during spring break, many of them will be
home. We could do it at the beach. I'd like you to come and
just listen to the legacy your son has left behind. I think you'll
be amazed."

"You would do that?"

"Say the word, and I'll make the arrangements. I think it will
be good for everyone involved, but I need to start now. College
kids, you know. They plan their spring breaks in advance."

She appeared to study her empty coffee cup, and when she
looked up her eyes were pink. "I would love that."

"Consider it done."

She rose to her feet. "I need to get back. Sarah might need
help with her homework."

Jake walked her to her car. "Thanks for coming."

She started the ignition. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

Jake watched the headlights disappear down the drive and
into the street. No, he was not going to give up on this one. He
would stay the fight.

Christi drove through the gate at Andie's house. What would
she find today?

The amended complaint was served to Blair yesterdayalthough Scott said it was expected, it would feel like one more
blow. This would be a bad day.

It seemed like Andie had made real progress in the past
weeks-at times somehow finding a sense of distance from
her grief, but those moments had been so fragile. Her moods
could crash with the speed of a falling souffle: from creative
fighter putting her soul into a painting to despondent, wounded
animal huddling from the world. Hopefully, the fighter was out
today.

Christi climbed out of her car and looked toward the kitchen
window. Dark. Better try the door.

"I'm back here."Andie's voice carried across the lawn. Christi
turned to see her putting something behind the garden gazebo.
She walked back to a chair and sat directly across from a large
canvas propped on an easel.

Christi felt the smile creeping up her face as she walked
toward her friend. "Painting another one?"

Andie shrugged. "It helps."

Christi walked around to take a peek. She looked at the
canvas, amazed by the beauty her friend had created.

She recognized twinspurs and bergenia and spurge and all
the blooms from around Andie's winter garden strung into a
garland around a window, which looked out onto the Pacific
Ocean. "Oh, Andie! It's so realistic I'd swear I can smell the
flowers and the salt of the ocean."