It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) (30 page)

“His favorite Scripture, according to his mother, was Philippians 3:14: ‘I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.’ Hudson pressed forward all the way to the finish line, a true champion of the faith.

“Is it possible to have a remarkable life by simply caring for someone else? To be a champion by losing everything? To become a hero by becoming invisible?

“Hudson taught us that the answer is yes.

“See, we pass them every day. They sit on a ratty piece of cardboard, wrapped in bags, fraying woolen hats, matted and dirty hair in tangles down their backs, wearing old Army surplus jackets.

“They hold out their hands, and we avert our eyes as we drop a quarter, maybe a dollar.

“Why? Because they scare us. They are different, broken, weary, forgotten, and we try not to notice them because they frighten us. They are monsters to us, and if we saw them as any different, we might have to connect, to care.

“It might cost us something.

“We all judge each other. We see what we want, what we believe based on stereotypes, on rumor, and even on our own fears. We put people into categories and assign behaviors to them, and it isn’t until we take the time, until we commit to the cost, that we see beyond those stereotypes.

“We see beyond someone who frightens us with their
reputation to a person God loves. We see beyond a person the world might call a monster to a man of compassion and honor. A man who might not even see himself that way anymore but with the slightest nudging could become a hero.

“Hudson knew that, to these forgotten, these unseen, God says, ‘I see you, and My heart breaks for you. I long to heal you. To comfort you. For you to rise up and know you are Mine. I am proud to be your daddy.’

“Hudson knew that to live a remarkable life, it started with seeing just one person and reminding them of God’s love.”

Olivia looked up, smiled at the audience, and didn’t bother wiping the tear from her chin. “I believe God handpicked you, Eden, to walk into that room and find my son. It had to be you who told his story because only you understood how to give him a voice. Thank you for caring for the forgotten and believing in a hero.”

She took a breath. “My son, Myron Hudson Peterson, passed away peacefully last Saturday surrounded by the love of friends and family. And what you don’t know is that after he saved Alena’s life, even after his death, he went on to change the lives of seven other individuals by donating his lungs, his kidneys, his liver, his pancreas, his eyes, and his heart.” She closed the notebook, rested her hand on the cover. “I love you, Son. I’m so very proud.”

She descended, and Matt led the congregation in a chorus of “It Is Well with My Soul.” But Eden couldn’t breathe. She slipped out, past Jace, desperate for fresh air.

He followed her, catching her on the sidewalk. “What, Eden? What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t speak, her hand over her mouth.
One story. One great story.

“I just wanted you to see that you have a gift. A way of seeing people. Of bringing out the best in a person for the world to see.”

She met his eyes. “I think God has been trying to tell me something for four years. I’m . . . I’m
supposed
to be in obits.”

Jace nodded.

“In fact, being on the sidelines, making sure people aren’t forgotten, giving them a final voice, is exactly what I love doing. I just . . . I didn’t want to believe it. Charlotte was right . . . I do write about life.”

“Yes. And you find the remarkable in the so-called ordinary.” He touched her hand. “Here’s what you need to see. God put you in exactly this place to stumble into Hudson’s room, to find him. Because only you could see beyond Hudson’s tragedy to the hero inside. And because of that, because you found his mother, you helped save seven people.” His eyes filled. “You don’t even realize the impact you make on the world by simply caring about one person. Like Hudson. Like me. You made me see the man I could be
 
—”

“The man you are, Jace.” She couldn’t help the words
 
—they spilled out. “You’re a wonderful man, with the heart of a protector. I should have never called you a bully. Or a monster.”

“And I shouldn’t have made you feel like you didn’t belong in my world. Like you were anything but the sunlight in it. I love you, Eden Christiansen. And I would chase you down; I would fight for you; I would find you. You are the face I look for in the
stands. The only face I look for. No one has ever made me feel more like the man I want to be. Please say you forgive me.”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Just stared at him. Then, somehow, nodded.

She’d saved lives. And Jace might be saving hers back.

“Do I have to wear a sweater with your name on the back?”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Then she hooked her hands around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Holding on to this amazing man as he bent down to kiss her.

And Jace Jacobsen, hockey star, the man in the limelight of her heart, never did anything halfway.

T
HE SCENT OF SPRING
 
—of buds on the lilac trees, the greening grass
 
—and a hint of anticipation hung in the air as Eden slammed the door to the Charger, then dashed across the street to the newspaper offices.

She still had Charlotte’s voice mail message on her phone, not wanting to erase it, just in case . . .

But she shouldn’t put so much into this meeting. Especially after the way she’d walked out on her job.

Charlotte didn’t owe her anything.

She got a visitor’s pass, then took the elevator to her old digs. Frannie greeted her, then called Charlotte. “You can go back,” she told Eden.

A quick glance at Kendra’s desk revealed it vacant
 
—she’d heard she’d transferred to the social media department.

Charlotte’s door was closed. Eden knocked, then pushed the door open at the invitation.

Wearing a knit dress, Charlotte rose from her desk. Her glasses dangled from a chain around her neck.

She smiled. “Thank you for sending it to me.”

Really? Eden tried not to let the smile flood her face as she sank into a chair. “I felt I needed to apologize for the way I behaved. I know I don’t deserve my job back, but I wanted you to know that I understand now, and you were right. You do write about life, and it’s a privilege to give people their final moment. I’m sorry I didn’t see that
 
—and for the way I treated my job.”

Charlotte came around the desk, leaned against it. Considered her. Then she gave a small smile. “Apology accepted.” She reached behind her and picked up a sheaf of papers. “
Memoirs of Lives Well Lived: Reflections of an Obituary Writer
.” She handed Eden the pages. “When did you have time to write it?”

Eden took the manuscript, running her hands over the smooth paper. “I’ve been writing it for years, really. Collecting stories
 
—”

“Of life.”

Eden found herself nodding. “Yes. Tidbits and details of the remarkable lives of the people who pass through our department. I found that when I interviewed their loved ones, there was so much more to them that their obits couldn’t contain. One by one, they touched lives. Maybe just one life, but it was enough.”

“Do you have a publisher yet?”

“I sent it to a few agents. We’ll see.”

“You once said that you didn’t want to be good at obits. Why not?”

Eden raised a shoulder. “Because I thought I was supposed to be more. But then I realized God had already put me where I could shine. I belong in obits.”

Charlotte wore a warmth in her expression Eden didn’t recognize. “It took you long enough.” She got up, went back around her desk. “Because I have a little house in Florida I just bought, and I’ve been waiting four years for you to be ready to take my place.”

She winked at Eden, and Eden had no words.

“You start training for obits editor tomorrow. Now get out of my office.”

She’d probably missed the first period, but she left her spring coat in the Charger and pulled the hockey jersey from her bag, tugging it on over her shirt. It looked a little ridiculous with her short black skirt and black leather boots, but Jace liked it when she wore his colors.

The white and red of the Hope Community Center Polar Bears.

The bullet shots of the puck on the ice, the cheers of the crowd swelling as the tykes fought the battle, made her hustle. She caught a glimpse of the time clock and winced. Third period? Already? At least the Bears were up by one.

She ducked her head as she scampered into the stands.

“Eden! Over here!”

The voice rose over the din, and she spied Sam waving. He wore a stocking cap, a red Polar Bears sweatshirt, and gestured for her to sit beside them.

Next to him, Olivia had Maddy on her lap, her arms clasped around the girl. Maddy grinned at Eden as she slid onto the bench.

“You’re late,” Maddy said, her cheeks a healthy pink. They had
her dressed a little on the warm side, but Eden didn’t blame Sam for overprotecting his miracle.

In fact, Olivia and Sam’s relationship seemed like a miracle too. Eden didn’t exactly know how they had ended up together, but maybe those mysteries she’d leave in the Lord’s hands.

“How’s it going?”

“Jace is in rare form tonight. Hasn’t yelled at the refs once,” Olivia said.

Yeah, well, he’d tamed since quitting the league. Just a little. She found him easily
 
—standing behind the bench, hands on his hips, shouting to his kids as they fought for the puck. She watched him gesture, those strong hands coming to rest on the shoulders of one of his players as he gave instructions, then sent him onto the ice. Another player came in, and Jace patted him on the head.

The Bears shot the puck into the goal, and the siren sounded. The crowd rose to its feet, cheering.

“Burgers at Sammy’s after the game?” Eden asked as they sat down.

Sam nodded. “But I can’t stay long. I still have boxes to move, and Maddy needs to get to bed early.”

Olivia clasped his hand in hers, and Eden wanted to weep at the sight of her joy. According to Jace, Sam had rented a house with a backyard, and the hospital had allowed him provisional custody.

With Jace managing the restaurant, Sam mostly stayed home to care for his daughter. And Eden suspected there might be a new mommy in Maddy’s future.

The game buzzer sounded, and the team emptied onto the ice. The audience found its feet, clapping for the win, and Eden gathered up her bag. “I’d better find Jace and pretend I didn’t miss most of the game.”

Sam wore a strange smile.

She walked through the crowd to the box, rapped on the Plexiglas. Jace turned, and his smile could still make her heart stop, still strike her with a sort of disbelief that he’d chosen her. “I’ll be right back,” he said, winking.

She’d wait right here on the sidelines for him
 
—forever, if it took that long.

He wore a suit jacket over a Polar Bears T-shirt and jeans. She missed his long hair, but after three months it was finally growing back. Now he sported a respectable curly mop, short enough for the parents to see him as a real coach instead of a part-time volunteer.

But who wouldn’t trust Jace Jacobsen with their ten-year-old? Especially when he took the ice and they piled on top of him.

He laughed and wrestled free.

And then he pointed at Eden. The boys skated toward her, calling her out on the ice. She climbed over the wall. “I don’t have skates,” she yelled to Jace, but he shook his head, just motioned her to join him.

It didn’t help that his fleet of tiny henchmen half dragged, half pushed her to the center line. She nearly fell, but Jace caught her.

“What?” she said, laughing.

He smiled at her, so much mischief in his eyes that she stopped laughing.

Her stomach did a strange, almost-wary flip.

Then the lights went out, turning the entire arena dark. “Jace?”

He found her hand as a bright light shone down from the stands, puddling them in the middle.

Only Eden and Jace. And, well, twenty young boys standing around the darkened perimeter.

“What’s going on?”

He still wore that crazy grin, and now he knelt in front of her.

“Jace
 
—”

“Shh. Stop being so bossy,” Jace said softly. He reached for her other hand. “Eden,” he said in a voice that seemed roughened, “I know I don’t deserve you, and every day I’m amazed that you love me. You are a compassionate, beautiful, breathtaking woman, and more than anything, I’d like to share the rest of my life with you. You are the only woman for me, and I’ve been waiting for you my entire life. Will you marry me?”

Eden stared at him, words flushing out of her. She opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Eden? I . . . um . . . Well, you don’t have to answer
 
—”

“Yes.” The word came out softly, too softly, so she said it again. “Yes, Jace Jacobsen, I will marry you.”

The crowd around her erupted. Jace stood and caught her in his arms, twirling her around in the spotlight.

And then the houselights came on, full and bright and blinding her for a second as Jace set her back on the ice.

It was then that she saw them, gathered in the box, cheering. Her mother, wearing a wool headband in her hair, and her father, his blue eyes warm as he winked at her. Casper, grinning like he’d just won something, and Grace, clapping her mittens together. Amelia was holding up her phone, snapping a shot, and beside her, Darek held Tiger on his hip, his fiancée, Ivy, next to him wiping her cheeks.

Only Owen was missing, and his absence sent a sliver of sadness through her.

“How did you get them all down here?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jace grinned and hooked her around the waist. “They wanted rink-side seats for the big event.”

She saw it in his eyes
 
—the man he’d been, the man he would be. The champion, the husband. The father.

As he kissed her to the cheers of the crowd, it was just a little bit untamed, a little bit wild, heating up the ice around her.

And to Eden, it was exactly perfect.