Oceans Apart (17 page)

“God . . .” At the whispered word, she glanced around the room, as though perhaps a flash of light might race through it. She let her eyes settle on the ceiling. After a moment of silence she felt safe enough to continue. “God, if You’re up there, then You’ve got Kiahna now, and . . . well . . .” Her words stuck in her throat and she brought her fingertips to her eyebrows. This wasn’t a time to cry, not when she had business with God.

She waited for the lump in her throat to ease some. “If You’ve got Kiahna, then You know how much we miss her. And You know how hard things are for Max.” She did a short cough and swallowed back the sadness in her voice. “From the sounds of it, Kiahna made 129

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a mistake with Max’s father. But, God . . . I know how sorry she was. She died sorry, I’m sure of it. And now, well, now Max is in a heap of trouble, because what man would want to find out about a son he never knew he had, a son who might ruin his marriage or his whole family.”

Her hands fell back to her lap and she soothed her thumb over the worn cloth cover of Kiahna’s journal. “What I’m saying, God, is Max needs a little help here. If You want the boy to live with this

. . . this Connor man, then You’re going to need to work a miracle.

A forgiveness miracle, God. Otherwise none of this will work out, and Max will wind up—”

The sadness came then, and Ramey could do nothing to stop it.

Because if God didn’t work a forgiveness miracle for all of them, then Max would become a ward of the state. And there was no telling what would happen to him after that.

Ramey leaned over and snatched a tissue from the box on the coffee table. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose and ordered herself to get a grip. If God was still listening, she needed to finish her prayer. For Max’s sake.

“So, God, please . . . do this thing for Max. And if You do, I promise You something . . .” Ramey hesitated. She hadn’t planned on making any promises to God, but her words were flowing without a filter. “I promise I’ll believe in You, God. If You let Connor and his family forgive each other, if You let Max find a place with them, I’ll believe in You for the rest of my life.”

<

When Max came home from school, Ramey piled him and Buddy and a picnic dinner into her beat-up station wagon.

“What about my homework?” Max bit his lip. He seemed unsure about the trip. But then he’d been unsure about most of life since his mother’s death. The only time he looked at peace was 130

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when he was reading the Bible his mother gave him the year before, or when he sat with Buddy out on the patio.

Ramey sighed and motioned Max to come closer. “Buddy loves the beach, right?”

“Right.”

“So let’s do homework later. Let’s spend a few hours on the sand.

You can play with Buddy, and then we’ll have a picnic and talk a little.”

Red flags flashed in Max’s eyes. “Talk about what?”

“About life, Max, okay? About life.” Ramey turned for the door.

“Come on. Buddy needs to get out.”

Max set his backpack down and followed her.

They were set up at the beach half an hour later with an early picnic dinner of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and red fruit punch. When they were finished eating, Max and Buddy ran down the beach to chase seagulls.

Ramey brought a bag with her and pulled out a notebook. The idea had been forming in her mind since earlier, after reading Kiahna’s journal. If Max was going to spend two weeks with this Connor Evans man and his wife, then several things seemed certain. First, if Kiahna had loved the man in so short a time, Ramey had no doubt that he’d cared for her in return. That meant that no matter what grief the news about Max caused him, Connor would feel for the boy. Max had that effect on people; his father would be no exception.

The problem was bound to be with Connor’s wife.

Ramey thought back to the days before her own husband died.

How badly would her world have been shaken if he’d come home one day with that kind of news? That he had a son in another state, with a woman he’d slept with while they were married?

She watched Max run through the surf, Buddy close at his heels.

It wouldn’t matter if the child was wonderful. The blow would’ve 131

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been enough to knock her off her foundation. Maybe even tear their marriage apart.

The idea came to her after the prayer, after she begged God—

if He was listening—to make a forgiveness miracle for Connor’s family. Maybe she could do something to help, give a message to the man’s wife about what God might want in this situation.

She opened the notebook and found a clean sheet of lined paper.

Then, with another glance at Max, she began to write.

To Mrs. Evans:

Hello. My name is Ramey, and you don’t know me. I’ve been
Max’s baby-sitter for all of his life. Whenever his mother was out of
town on a flight, the boy was with me. During that time I haven’t been
much of a believer. In fact, I haven’t believed in God at all, really.

But now as I watch Max, as I think about the months and years
he has ahead, I want to believe, ma’am. With all my heart I want to
believe.

Marv Ogle tells me that you and your husband are Christians, the
same way Kiahna was a Christian. I’ve read through some of
Kiahna’s journal so I might understand Max’s situation better, and
what I found has given me the beginning of belief. Enough so that I’ve
asked God for a forgiveness miracle for Max.

You see, ma’am, I might not be very educated, but I know it will
take a forgiveness miracle for life to work out the way Kiahna and
even, I think, God wants it to work out.

She kept writing, detailing for the woman a Scripture she’d found on the inside cover of Kiahna’s journal. It was a verse that seemed strong, somehow, in a way Ramey had never felt before.

She ended the letter as best she could. Then she folded it and placed it in an envelope. Across the front she wrote,
For Mrs. Evans
.

Before Max left she would stick it in his Bible and remind him to give it to the woman. Then she wrote Max a short note. She would 132

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stick both letters and a picture of Kiahna and Buddy in Max’s Bible.

That way he’d remember what was in his heart even when he was so far away from home.

She looked up and scanned the beach for the boy and his dog.

The sun was dropping in the sky, and Max and Buddy had tired out.

They sat together near the shore, Max digging his toes into the sand, looking out at the ocean, one arm flung around Buddy’s neck.

What could he be thinking?
Ramey bit her lip. If she did nothing else for Max in all her life, she would stay happy that night. Sadness would only tell Max that whatever lay ahead could be even more painful than the days he’d already survived.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Max . . .” He turned his head in her direction. His eyes looked more at peace than they had earlier. “Yes, Ramey?” She swallowed hard. After this conversation his future would be set in motion, one way or another. “Can I talk to you, bucko?” His mouth hung open, as if her question scared him. But he stood and began walking, Buddy beside him. When they reached Ramey, they both dropped to the ground in front of her. Max looked up, his eyes searching hers. “Is this about Mommy’s friend?” So the boy remembered. He’d probably been thinking about spending two weeks with a stranger ever since hearing his mother’s letter. Ramey lifted her chin.
No tears . . . no tears . . .
“Yes, Max. It’s about that.” She reached out and used her thumb to brush a lock of hair off from Max’s forehead.

The boy’s eyes grew wide. “What about it?”

“Well”—Ramey looked to the deep places of the child’s heart—

“Mr. Ogle found your mom’s friend, and he wants to see you. He lives in Florida with his family. You’ll be gone for two weeks.” She hesitated. “I wanted you to know.”

Max’s chin quivered some and anger flashed in his eyes. He put his arm around Buddy. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.” 133

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Ramey had never been overly affectionate with the boy. She had never needed to be; Kiahna had showered him with more than enough love. But Kiahna was gone forever, and as Max’s shoulders began to shake, she reached out to him. He stood and came to her, falling against her and burying his tan, little-boy face in the soft part of her shoulder. “Don’t make me go, please, Ramey.”

“Max . . . shhh. It’s okay.” She soothed her hand against his back, and beside them Buddy rose to his feet and whimpered. “Your mom wants you to do this, remember?”

He drew back, his eyes searching hers. “But she was wrong, Ramey. She thought I would want to go, but I don’t. Not ever.” He took three quick breaths and rubbed his cheeks. “Do I have to, even if I don’t want to?”

Ramey’s heart hurt and she made a mental note to take addi-tional nitroglycerin that night before going to bed. Stress like this wasn’t good for her. She cocked her head to the side and managed a sad smile. “Yes, Max. You have to go. You leave Friday.” His mouth hung open, and his eyes filled with hurt, as though somehow she’d betrayed him by letting Mr. Ogle and his mother’s friend make plans without his approval. He gave a few slow shakes of his head and then he gulped back another wave of sobs. “Is . . .

is Buddy coming with me?”

Ramey moved her hands to his shoulders and hoped with everything in her that Max would understand, that he would move past the pain he was feeling to a point where he would be open to whatever God might do in the coming weeks. If God had heard her prayer.

“No, Max.” She chewed on her lip for a few seconds. “Buddy will stay with me.”

For a moment, Max didn’t move. He stared first at Ramey, then at Buddy. “No . . . that isn’t
fair,
Ramey.” His voice rose and he 134

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pulled away from her. “No!” Then he turned and ran, hard and fast, toward the surf.

Buddy seemed confused by the boy’s outburst. He stood, looked at Ramey, and wagged his tail. Then he followed after Max. Ramey watched the boy reach the water and shade his eyes.

“No, Mommy!” He shouted the words out over the water.

“Don’t make me go, not without Buddy!”

This time Ramey could do nothing to stop her tears. They escaped from her heart and made a silent stream down her face. It dawned on her that she needed to ask God for one more part to the forgiveness miracle. Because before Max could ever learn to like the man in Florida—or any part of his family for that matter—

he would have to do something he’d never had to do before.

He would have to forgive the mother he loved more than life.

135

FOURTEEN

Ocean water was getting Max’s shorts wet, but he was too mad to care.

He lowered his voice, and this time the words he spoke to his mommy were whispered. From his heart to hers. “Why . . . why should I go?”

The ocean made a
whooshing
sound, and Max had the strongest feeling. If only he could swim across the ocean and find her plane, maybe she wasn’t really dead at all. Maybe she was sitting on top of it, waiting for someone to find her. He could be the one, couldn’t he? He could find her and sit up there beside her and ask her why she wanted him to take a trip to Florida, wherever that was. Especially when all he wanted to do was stay with Buddy and Ramey.

He dropped to the sand and felt a little bit of wave fill into his shorts pockets. Buddy leaned close to him and licked his face. “She could be alive, don’t you think, Buddy?” Max turned his nose to the dog and accepted another swipe across his cheek. “Yeah. Me, too.” A long huff came from inside him, from his heart, maybe. He looked back out at the water, and all of a sudden he remembered what Ramey had told him the day he found out about his mother’s plane.

She’s dead, Max. No one on the plane lived . . . no one on the plane
lived . . . no one on the plane lived.

New tears covered over his eyes and made the ocean blurry. His whispery words were more scratchy than before. “But . . . what if she was the onlyest one?” Buddy made a little whining sound, and Max rubbed him behind his ear.

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This time he looked up to the sky, the place where God lived. “Is she really gone, Jesus? Is she with You? Or is she on the plane, waiting for me to help her?”

Most of the time God didn’t actually talk back to him. Not with words. But once in a while he could sort of feel what God was saying. He shut his eyes and waited. And just then it came. A feeling that was happy and sad all at the same time, because Ramey was right, that’s why. His mommy wasn’t on the plane at all, not anymore. She was up in heaven with Jesus.

But what was he supposed to do with the mad in his heart?

Mommy should’ve known he wouldn’t want to leave the island to stay with some friend of hers. He wanted to be here, near the water where the two of them had played as far back as remembering could go. Near their apartment and Ramey’s apartment and Buddy.