Shattered Justice (20 page)

Aaron gave him a thumbs-up as they paddled away. Dan kept looking up from time to time, but it seemed everything was going great. The kids were tossing their lines into the water, and their laughter drifted to him, a beautiful sound on the warm summer breeze.

Only one thing would have made it all perfect. But that one thing was gone. Forever.

Suddenly the words on the page in front of him blurred. Dan closed the book, leaning back and turning his face to the sky.
God, will the hurting ever stop? The piercing loss when I hear the kids laugh—but not Sarah?
He rubbed a hand over his eyes.
Sarah, I miss you so much …

A yelp jerked his eyes open, and he looked at the canoe just in time to see Jayce jerking on his pole.

“I got one! I
got
one!”

Dan jumped up, almost as excited as Jayce sounded. “Keep tension on the line, son!”

Aaron waved at Dan to show they’d heard, and Dan could hear him guiding Jayce as the fish went first one way then the other.

“Watch it!” Aaron leaned forward. “He’s heading under the canoe.”

Shannon joined in. “Don’t let your line go slack. You’ll lose him!”

“Whoa! I think I got a whale here!” Jayce jumped up from his seat, and though Dan couldn’t see his kids’ faces, he heard the alarm in their voices.

“No!”

“Sit down!”

Too late. Jayce threw his weight to the side, trying to keep tension on the line. The canoe tipped one way, then the other—and over it went.

A chorus of cries split the air as the kids flew into the lake. Dan ran out into the water, ready to plunge in to save whomever needed saving, but the oddest sound stopped him.

Laughter. Hilarious, sputtering laughter.

All three of the kids popped up next to the capsized canoe. Aaron and Shannon splashed at each other. Dan surveyed the situation, making sure everyone was okay—and his eyes widened.

Jayce’s flotation vest kept him afloat, which was a good thing. Because he held both his hands high. In one, he clutched his rod.

In the other he held a squirming fish.

“Oh,
man
!” Aaron swam over to Jayce. “How’d you
do
that?”

“I have no idea!” At Jayce’s stunned words, all three exploded into laughter.

“Aaron!”

He turned at his dad’s voice, looking back at the shore.

“Can you and Shannon right the canoe?”

“Sure!”

Dan hoped his son’s confidence was deserved. Happily, it was. “Well, hon,” Dan spoke to the silence around him, “looks like the training we gave them actually paid off.” Dan couldn’t be sure, but he thought he felt a gentle touch on his cheek. It was just the breeze, of course, but it made him smile all the same.

Within minutes the canoe was upright, drained as best it could be, and Aaron and Shannon were back in. They took Jayce’s rod and the fish, then helped him back in the canoe, balancing carefully as he came over the side.

When they reached shore, a beaming Jayce stepped out, dripping wet, and held up his still-wriggling trout for Dan’s inspection.

“It’s a beauty, all right.” He slid his arm around Jayce’s shoulders. “Now follow me, and I’ll show you the best part of all.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up. “What’s that?”

Dan grinned. “Cleaning your catch.”

That night they feasted on freshly caught fish—courtesy of both Jayce and Aaron, who’d proven themselves master anglers—cooked over a campfire. Shannon took a bite of the fish Jayce caught and sighed. “Your fish tastes best of all, Jayce.”

Pleasure lit the boy’s face with a warmth Dan had never seen before. Any doubts he still held about bringing Jayce on this trip vanished like the smoke rising into the sky from their fire.

By the time they’d taken care of cleanup, the sun was kissing the tips of the mountains around them. As the shadows lengthened, Dan went to his tent and pulled a worn cloth-bound book from his duffel. He held the book in his hands, eyes skimming the title.
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe
.

So much of their lives had been turned upside down, but he and the kids managed to hold on to their nightly story time. As they sat together, the kids snuggled up in the crook of his arms, reading those familiar stories seemed to soothe the kids’ grieving spirits.

And Dan’s, too.

As he read, Dan could swear he felt Sarah beside him, could hear her voice reading along with him, could even see her shed a tear when Aslan lay down on the great table, ready to die.

And in those dark, pain-filled days just after Sarah’s funeral, when Dan read the part about Aslan rising again, about him running and leaping in the utter ecstacy of new life, Dan felt the promise deep within. Sarah’s story wasn’t over. It was only interrupted.

Eternity was waiting. They would be together again.

Dan and the kids had just started
Prince Caspian
, the fourth Chronicles of Narnia book, the weekend before this trip. No matter how many times they went through the series, they never tired of them. How could they? These books—and the characters held within—were the dearest of old friends.

Even so, Dan had decided against taking the books on the camping trip. Sure, they loved the story, but Jayce? What would a kid from Jayce’s background think of these fantastical stories? About a magical wardrobe and a lion that spoke?

Dan shook his head. He could just imagine Jayce’s reaction, and the last thing he wanted was for the boy to hurt Shannon’s, and even Aaron’s, feelings. No, this trip had enough potential emotional land mines already. No point in taking chances that weren’t necessary.

Of course, just because
his
mind had been made up didn’t mean the issue was settled. Which he found out as he packed his duffel bag for the camping trip. Aaron, who was sitting on his bed watching Dan, put a hand on his arm as he was about to zip the bag shut.

“Hang on, Dad.”

“What?”

“You forgot something.” He hopped off the bed and ran from the room. When he returned, Shannon was with him. She held a book out to Dan.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
.

Trepidation tripped up his chest, drawing it tight. “We read this one already.”

Aaron didn’t hesitate. “I know, but this is the one we need to read on the trip.”

“I thought we’d leave the book home. I don’t want it to get damage—”

“Dad, you
have
to take it!”

Okay. He’d expected Shannon to object. But this vehement comment from Aaron stunned him. “Why?”

Shannon looked at Aaron, and he nodded. “Go ahead. Tell him.”

“Well, Aaron and I talked about it, and we both have a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“A really, really,
really
strong feeling.”

“Really strong,” Aaron echoed, and Dan fought back a chuckle.

“Okay, a feeling about what?”

“That we need to read on the trip. And it needs to be this book. For Jayce.”

“For …” Dan took the novel from Shannon, holding it in his hands, letting his fingers trail over the embossed title.
Just ask the question
. “But guys, what makes you think Jayce will like these stories? What if he thinks they’re stupid?” He looked from one of his children to the other. “How will you react if he makes fun of them?”

Shannon’s response was the last thing Dan expected. She reached up and patted his hand, like a mother patting away a somewhat slow child’s objections. “You’re so silly, Daddy. Jayce will love them. God told me so. Besides—” she took the book from him and gave it to Aaron, who placed it in Dan’s duffel bag—“he needs to know.”

“To know what?”

Aaron answered him. “About Aslan.”

Dan had just stood there, mute. When did these two grow from childish thinking to spiritual maturity—and how on earth did he miss it?

“Move, frog breath!”

“You move! I was here
first
!”

Thus jolted from his reminiscence, Dan turned to find his “spiritually mature” offspring wrestling for the best position around the campfire.

So maybe they weren’t quite finished with childish thinking, after all.

He was ready to tell the two of them to knock it off, when Jayce stepped between them and sat on the contested log.

Aaron and Shannon both turned to gawk at him. He crossed his arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. “See what happens when you waste your time fighting? You both lose.”

Dan restrained a smile as red bloomed on Aaron’s cheeks. For a moment he thought the two boys were about to have their first fight, then Aaron exhaled and a rueful smile slid across his features. “So what you’re saying is, a log’s a log. Shut up and sit down?”

Jayce nodded. “See there? You’re a lot smarter than you look.” He reached out to smack Aaron’s arm. “Have a seat, dude.” He glanced at Shannon and patted the log on his other side. “You, too, squirt.”

Dan’s brows arched at the tinge of red coloring Shannon’s cheeks. Concern slithered through his chest as he made his way back to the fire. Jayce was a good enough kid in the right setting, but he still had a lot of problems. Dan would rather not have his little girl forming a crush on a kid with so much to overcome.

He joined the kids near the fire and lowered himself onto one of the logs. “You guys ready to read?”

“Absolutely!”

“Read what?” Jayce’s response wasn’t anywhere near as positive as Aaron’s.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. “The best story you’ve ever heard, that’s what.”

Shannon, who’d been hovering, finally settled on the ground between the two boys, leaning against her brother’s leg. “You’ll like it, Jayce.”

Thus reassured, Jayce looked up at Dan and shrugged. “Go for it.”

Dan opened the book.
Here goes, Lord
.

Dan started reading. “Once there were four children …” At first Dan glanced up every few words, trying to gauge Jayce’s reaction. But soon the story wove around him, and he was too engrossed to remember to worry. As they followed the children’s
journey through the wardrobe, Dan was only vaguely aware of the dying daylight around them. It didn’t matter, though. The kids kept feeding fuel to the crackling fire, so it gave off plenty of light for reading.

Not until Dan’s voice began to crack did he stop reading. And the moment he did so, all three of his listeners erupted.

“Hey!”

“Da
ddy!”

“Aw, c’mon, Mr. Justice. You
can’t
stop there!”

Dan held up his hands, laughing. “Have mercy, you guys. My voice is about shot.”

“Man!”

There was no missing the disappointment in Jayce’s tone. Dan closed the book with gentle firmness. He should have known Shannon would be right. She usually was when it came to reading people. When he looked up from the book, he found her smiling at him, a little gleam in her twinkling eyes. She didn’t need to speak a word for him to get the message.

See? Told you so
.

“Okay, you three, let’s put the fire out and get some sack time. Tomorrow’s another day, and—”

“We need a good night’s sleep to do it justice,” his offspring chorused.

Jayce looked from them to Dan then back again. He stood and grabbed the pail of water to douse the fire. “And people think
I’m
crazy.”

“Nah—” Aaron stirred the soggy ashes with a stick—“they think you’re trouble.” His grin was just visible in the moonlight. “Goes to show how much they know, huh?”

Jayce’s relaxed chuckle was music to Dan’s ears. He watched the kids amble off to their respective tents, soaking in the sound of their happy chatter.

He never would have imaged things would go so well. Aaron’s words echoed in his head:
“Goes to show how much they know, huh?”

Dan stood, tucked the book under his arm, and looked up at the star-studded night. “And I guess it goes to show how much I know, too.” Good thing he had the kids. And good thing they’d inherited their mother’s inner eyes, that looked deep into the heart and saw people the way God did.

With faith.

With truth.

And, most important, with love.

Dan unzipped his tent and cast a final glance up at the sky. “Help me see with eyes like that, God. With eyes like Yours.”

As he stepped into the tent, his whispered prayer eased into the night, caught the dancing breeze, and rode it to the heavens.

Shannon pulled her sleeping bag higher over her shoulder, burrowing down inside its warmth. She’d opened one of the tent’s window flaps so she could see the night sky.

It was beautiful.

Mom always used to talk about what an artist God was. And she was right. No one but an artist could have created a sky like that, with so many stars twinkling that it looked like God had spilled silver glitter across the heavens.

She turned her head toward the boys’ tent, listening, but all she heard was the sounds of the night. Was Jayce looking up at the sky, too? Had he ever seen a sky like this before?

Shannon doubted it. From what he’d said on the drive up, he spent most of his time in town. And most of that he was inside. “Easier to stay out of trouble when you stay in your room all the time.” The sound in his voice when he told her that made her heart really, really sad.

But then, lots of things about Jayce made her sad. The way his mom left him. That his dad was in prison and Jayce never got to see him. And then there was that side of Jayce—that quiet, almost scary side. She’d only seen it for a second, when
Aaron asked him about his friends. Then Jayce changed the subject. Fast. Aaron didn’t even seem to notice.

But she did.

She saw a lot of things others didn’t see. Especially with Jayce. It was funny, but from the minute she met him, Shannon kind of felt like he … belonged to her. Like she was responsible for him. She didn’t know why, exactly, but that was okay. Jayce needed someone to feel this way about him. Someone to care about him, to pray for him.

To love him like a mother would. Like his mother should have.

Lying there, with God’s stars shining down on her, Shannon knew she was right. Deep down inside, she just knew. God brought Jayce to her. And she would do her best to help him see how really special he was.