Oceans Apart (16 page)

’bout Friday evening?”

“Friday evening.” The attorney paused and the sound of shuffling papers filtered through the phone lines. “Very well, that should work.”

“Can we . . . talk about the guidelines, the story we’ll tell him?”

“Certainly. Kiahna assumed you wouldn’t want to tell the boy you were his father. Not at first, anyway.”

“Right.” Connor felt his heart beat harder against his uniform.

It was really going to happen; in a few days he would meet his son for the first time, come face to face with the sins of his past. Shame colored his tone. “What will you tell him?”

“Just what Kiahna said in her letter, that you were a friend of hers, and that it meant a lot to her that Max spend a few weeks with you.”

“Okay.” Connor swallowed. His palms were sweaty, and the list of questions he’d prepared suddenly slipped his mind.

“Max knows he has a father, Mr. Evans. Kiahna told him in her letter that perhaps one day he would find his biological dad and 122

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have a relationship with him. Then again, perhaps not. Either way, he believes he has a father in God.” The attorney paused. “Faith is very important to Max.”

Faith?

Guilt washed over Connor as he considered that. He was supposed to be a man of faith. But since 1996 his relationship with God hadn’t amounted to much more than a few appearances at church each month and the constant intention to get back to praying, back to reading the Bible. Back to connecting with God. Instead he’d rarely found time, and in the absence of a relationship with the Lord, Connor had done his best to work things out on his own.

But Max . . .

Apparently Max believed in a way that made people notice.

“What . . . what else?” Connor was stalling, buying time until his thoughts cleared.

“He loves a cold can of Coke, especially the little bit that gets stuck on the inside rim of the can. His favorite food is whipped cream and blueberry pancakes, and on stormy nights he’s afraid of the dark. He likes trees because they point up to heaven, snowmen because they seem real, and any kind of animal. He’s the fastest boy on his baseball team, and he loves listening to Jana Alayra’s music.”

“Jana Alayra?”

“She sings Christian songs, stuff for kids. When her CD’s playing in the house, he sings along at the top of his lungs.”

“He’s a singer, too, huh?”

“Not really.” The attorney chuckled. “He’s tone deaf, but he loves it all the same. And seeing him sing songs about not veering from the path that’s right is as beautiful as anything I’ve ever heard.” An idea struck Connor. Mr. Ogle loved Kiahna’s son like his own. It was something he hadn’t asked the man, but better that he do so now, before the boy came for the visit. “Mr. Ogle, have you and your wife considered adopting Max?” 123

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The pause at the other end frightened Connor in a way that was irrational. “We’ve known Max all his life, Mr. Evans, but we’re old enough to be his grandparents. I’m afraid we wouldn’t be much good to a boy as active as Max. The same is true for Ramey.”

“Ramey. The baby-sitter?”

“Yes. Ramey would take him, but the doctors have said she has a year or two at best. Heart disease is winning the battle for her energy, and caring for Max would only make her disease less manageable.”

“I see.” So there it was. He alone was the answer for the boy.

The responsibility was almost as overwhelming as the possibility.

“Anything else?”

“Hmmm . . .” The attorney thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I almost forgot about Buddy. Max’s best friend is his Labrador retriever, Buddy. The two were inseparable before Kiahna’s death, and now . . . well, the dog hasn’t left his side ever since.”

“Meaning . . .”

“Meaning would you mind if Buddy came with him for the visit?

He’s completely house-trained, and in warm weather you can keep him outside around the clock. I think it would be helpful for Max.” Connor didn’t doubt it. But he and Michele had long since agreed that dogs belonged on wide open farms. Fencing one up in a neighborhood lot was cruel, and often resulted in the kind of incessant barking that turned neighbors into enemies. Besides, Michele had never liked the idea of owning pets. Too much mess and upkeep. The girls were content with their Barbies and goldfish.

He took a moment to imagine what Michele would say if he came home and told her that Max was coming with his dog. A shudder worked its way down his spine, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, no. I’m afraid we can’t have the dog. Is there anywhere he can stay?” Disappointment rang from the attorney’s voice. “I discussed that with Ramey, the boy’s baby-sitter. She offered to keep Buddy if you were unwilling.”

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Unwilling
. The word poked darts at his conscience, but he could do nothing about it. Bringing Max home would be shock enough, without bringing the dog, too. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ogle. The news has been hard enough on my wife.”

“Of course.”

“It’s only two weeks.”

“I understand.”

But would Max? How was the boy supposed to feel, yanked from his home and his dog and everything he knew about life and sent to live with a family he’d never met? The question sent an under-current of doubt across Connor’s resolve.

The attorney launched into some of the details. He was online now, surfing the Internet and finding flights that would work. The most likely one was outbound on the airline Connor flew for. He promised to take care of the reservation, and the conversation stalled.

Mr. Ogle changed directions. “You understand Kiahna’s intentions in requesting this visit, is that correct, Mr. Evans?”

“Yes.” Connor’s stomach tightened. “It’s a trial. If we . . . if it works out, we would keep him.”

“Exactly. Kiahna didn’t list you on the boy’s birth certificate. So even though you’re his biological father, you and your wife would need to go through the courts to make his adoption legal.” The man paused. “And if you don’t want him, Kiahna wishes for you never to contact the boy again.”

Connor had assumed as much, but he hadn’t been sure until now. He felt the stakes of the boy’s visit triple. “I’m not sure which way it will go. Not yet anyway.”

“Would you like to know my thoughts?” The hint of a smile sounded in the attorney’s voice.

“Okay . . .”

“You’ll keep him.”

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Connor tightened his grip on the phone. The idea seemed impossible at this point. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know Max, Mr. Evans. It’s simple, really. Max is an easy boy to love.”

The conversation ended, but Connor sat stone still, replaying the attorney’s words in his head. His son sounded like a fantastic kid, but what if he came to visit and hated Florida? What if all he wanted was to catch the next plane back to Hawaii so he could be with this Ramey woman and the Ogles and his best friend, Buddy?

Of course that was only half the battle they faced.

The real issue was how Michele and the girls would take to his presence in their family. Timing for Max’s visit would be perfect.

The boy would arrive Friday, just in time for the family’s annual camping trip, a time when the kids took a few days off school and they enjoyed their favorite lake without the usual crowds. Connor had asked Michele if she wanted him to wait and have the boy visit the following week, when the vacation was over, but she said no.

“We might as well get used to him, Connor. Whether he comes on the vacation or not, he’ll be with us. There’s no getting around it.” While her answer wasn’t exactly positive, she hadn’t refused.

The more Connor thought about the plan, the better it seemed.

They’d made reservations almost a year earlier for their favorite spot, a shady campground just off Lake Okeechobee. The boat docks were fifty yards away in one direction, the beach fifty yards the other way. Connor had serviced the jet skis and gone over the camping equipment days ago.

He had no doubt that once the boy got past feeling homesick, he would like their family. And if he was as lovable as Mr. Ogle thought him to be, then they would all love him in return.

Even Michele.

126

THIRTEEN

The phone call came later that day.

Max was at school, and Ramey learned the news just before lunchtime. Max was going to Florida to spend two weeks with the man who had fathered him. Not that Max would know. The man was only willing to take the boy for two weeks, and Buddy wasn’t welcome for even that long.

Ramey settled into her chair near the television.

No question, it wasn’t fair. But then that was the way of life, wasn’t it? How fair was it that she was sick, that even if she wanted Max she couldn’t care for him in her condition? She glanced down at the floor near her chair, where Buddy lay curled in a ball. At least she could take care of Buddy. He was a good dog, and she would be there for him when he missed Max.

Earlier that day she’d gone to Kiahna’s apartment and sorted through some of her belongings. A moving company was coming to take her furniture to storage until Marv Ogle could decide what to do with it. Ramey had offered to pull together a few bags of clothes for Max and whatever items might be too precious to place in storage.

She found the journal in a nightstand beside Kiahna’s bed.

Inside was a detailed accounting of her time with Max’s father, as well as her reasons for standing by her faith in the years since. Dozens of entries were devoted to Max, and Ramey’s eyes were blurred before she placed the clothbound book in a bag and moved on.

An hour later she had packed everything of any sentimental value. Max’s baby book, two photo albums, a box of his schoolwork, and Kiahna’s Bible. Mr. Ogle had offered to come by and collect 127

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the heavy clothes bags when he was finished with work. But the other items, Ramey brought home herself.

The small bag sat near the patio door, and Ramey struggled to her feet. Maybe something in Kiahna’s journal would help her know how to break the news about the trip to Max. She opened the book and thumbed through it.

Her eye connected with an entry dated November 12, 1996.

Ramey worked the numbers in her mind and realized Kiahna would’ve been maybe three months pregnant. A twinge of guilt hit her as she stared at the date. Maybe Kiahna wouldn’t have wanted anyone but Max to see her journal. But then, this was different.

Kiahna would’ve wanted her to read the journal if it could shed any light on the way she’d felt about Max’s father.

She took a deep breath and found the beginning of the entry.

The doctor says the baby is growing fine, but he knows nothing of my
heart, how much I wish I could call Connor and tell him the truth. But
I won’t, not now or ever. I promised God and myself. If things had been
different, Connor and I would’ve fallen in love slow and proper, married
and lived a hundred years together. But he was already spoken for, already
committed to a family he loved.

God’s ways were clearer to me after Connor. Of course God didn’t want
us to be together that night because, despite the way we shared our hearts,
we should have waited. Then I would’ve known about his wife, his family. Instead I gave in to my emotions, and now the shame of what we did
will stay with me a lifetime.

No, nothing will change my mind about calling him, not even the precious baby growing within me.

When this child is older, maybe he’ll seek Connor out for himself. I’ll
explain that yes, I loved his father—if only for a short time. But what we
did by coming together that August was wrong, and I will beg God’s forgiveness every day of my life as long as I live. Even so, that doesn’t change
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the way I felt about Connor. Or how determined I am to keep the truth
about our baby to myself.

One day, though, one day it could happen. If my God and Father takes
me home before my child is full grown, it’ll be up to Connor. Because if
that happens I’ll want my baby to find him.

I pray that if that happens, that God will be merciful in bringing forgiveness to Connor’s family. Forgiveness for me and Connor and anyone
else who was hurt by what happened that stormy night.

Ramey blinked and a single tear fell on the page just beneath where Kiahna’s entry ended. So she had loved the man, after all.

The young woman’s words were exactly what Ramey had hoped to find. Connor wasn’t a man she hated, or someone who had hurt her. He was a man already spoken for.

No wonder Kiahna had never fallen in love again. She took her love for Max’s father with her to the grave, as determined to leave him alone as she’d been the day she’d written that journal entry.

Ramey closed the book and stared out at the simple patio beyond her sliding glass door. Nearly all her life she’d shied away from prayer and talk of God. But now, in light of Kiahna’s journal entry, she felt obligated to ask Him for a little help. Just in case He was real and actually could hear her.