Shattered Justice (22 page)

Shannon’s chestnut head bobbed. “Me, too. Jayce needs to have fun.”

“Right. Just like we all do. But—”

The rest of his planned speech jerked to a halt when her soft little hand slid into his. “No, Daddy.”

He looked down at those suddenly somber eyes. “No?”

“Not like us. We have fun all the time, you and me and Aaron.” Her lips twitched. “Well, you and me. Aaron’s just a nit.”

This time it was Dan who tugged at her hand.

“I’m kidding, Daddy. But not about Jayce. He needs to have fun in a different way.”

“Different how?”

“Because his eyes didn’t know how to smile. Or his heart. Because he was sad all the way down, and nothing was making it better. Because part of Jayce is broken.”

She looked up at him. “If Mommy were here, she’d help Jayce, too. She’d hug him and help him laugh. And she’d help him see how much God loves him.”

Dan cupped his daughter’s precious face in his hand. “Yes, she would do all that.”

She leaned her cheek into his hand. “But you know what, Daddy?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I don’t think Jayce knows God.” She sounded so grieved for him. “And Mommy’s not here to help him. So
I’m
gonna do it.”

They started walking again. “Do what, hon?”

She swung their joined hands. “Let him see God in me. You know, like Mommy did. I’m gonna talk to him and like him and love him the way Mommy would.”

Dan stared down at his little girl. Did she even realize what a wonder she was?
Sarah, she’s so like you …

A sweet light dawned on her features as she smiled. “I’m letting God show me how to be Jayce’s friend and his pray-er.”

“His pray-er?”

Shannon skipped beside him. “Sure. The one who prays for him. His pray-er.”

“Oh.” Dan squeezed her fingers. “I see.”

“Anyway, I’m praying for him every day, asking God to touch and love him. ’Cuz he doesn’t have anyone else to do it. And ’cuz God gave Jayce to me.”

Dan’s steps faltered a bit at that. “He what?”

The look she bestowed on him was pure Sarah: impish wisdom.

“Daddy. You don’t think Jayce is with us by accident?”

“Well, no, but—”

“God knew he needed someone to love him kind of like a mommy would, right? Like his mommy didn’t.”

How on earth did she know that? Dan only mentioned the situation with Jayce’s mom once, but apparently that was enough. That hard fact of Jayce’s life had planted itself in his little girl’s tender heart, blooming in compassion and kindness when she finally met the boy.

He stopped, kneeling and pulling Shannon close. “Honey, I’m proud of you for wanting to help Jayce—” his voice roughened, but he kept on—“the way your mommy would have.” He leaned back so she could see his face clearly. “But it’s not all up to you, you know. You can’t make up for what his mom did or didn’t do.”

She placed her hands on either side of his face and touched her forehead to his. “ ’Course not! But God can. I’m just letting
Him use me when He wants to.” She pulled back, her head tipping to the side. “That’s okay, isn’t it, Daddy?”

All those nagging concerns faded away and Dan knew Someone else walked the path with them, placing His hand on Dan’s shoulder, reassuring him that all was well.

“Yes, it’s okay. I wasn’t sure at first, but now—” he stood—“it’s more than okay. It’s right.”

Aaron couldn’t believe his eyes.

He blinked. Then looked again. He saw what he thought he saw.

Shannon’s lion. So how come Jayce was wearing it?

Sudden anger slithered through him. He liked Jayce. A lot. But if he’d stolen that from Shannon …

“Hey, you think it’s break time or somethin’? I’m not packin’ this tent up by myself—” Jayce’s laughing challenge screeched to a halt when he saw Aaron’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Aaron’s gaze dropped to the pendant. “That’s my sister’s.”

Jayce lifted his hand to the lion’s head. “Yeah, I know.”

Scorching heat coursed through Aaron as his anger turned up a notch. “Did you know our mom gave it to her?”

Jayce started to answer, but Aaron cut him off.

“Just before she died.”

The way Jayce’s eyes widened, Aaron knew that was a surprise.

Jayce looked down at the lion. “Oh, man …”

Yeah
. Aaron gritted his teeth.
Now you know, huh? What a crud you ar—

“Then I can’t take it.”

Darn right you can’t
.

“I don’t care what Shannon says, I gotta tell her I can’t take it.”

What? Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, what she says?”

Jayce took the leather cord from around his neck. “She said
she wanted me to have it. Said I reminded her of Aslan.” He shook his head. “Can you believe that? I mean, your sister is really somethin’ else.”

Like a dog that knows it’s done wrong, Aaron’s anger tucked its tail between its legs and ran yipping for cover. “Yeah. She is.”

If the sincerity on Jayce’s face hadn’t been convincing enough, his words sealed the deal. Aaron knew his sister well. She thought Jayce was just this side of wonderful. And if anyone would give away something she loved to someone she loved, it was Shannon.

“She’s somethin’ else. And I’m an idiot.”

Jayce cocked his head. “You’re what?”

“Man, I’m sorry, Jayce. I saw the lion, and I just thought …”

Understanding turned Jayce’s eyes hard. “You thought I stole it.”

Aaron swallowed, feeling more miserable by the second. Why did he do that? Why did he just jump to conclusions like that? Mom always told him he needed to stop and really think before he decided he knew what was going on.

“You’re such a smart boy, Aaron,” she had said over and over. “But being smart doesn’t always help you understand people. You have to listen with your heart as much as your head.”

Too bad he hadn’t remembered that a few minutes earlier.

Jayce was turning, ready to walk away, and Aaron grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

When Jayce spun back to him, his hand fisted over the lion. Aaron jerked back, then straightened his shoulders and faced his friend.

“Look, I’m a jerk. I should have known you wouldn’t do that to Shannon.”

Jayce didn’t answer, but the tight look on his face said it clearly:
Yeah. You should have
.

“I just … I get a little stupid, sometimes, about things my mom gave us.”

Jayce paused. “What do you mean?”

He really didn’t want to talk about this, but Aaron figured it was the only way to help Jayce understand. “Like, if mom gave us something, we have to make sure we don’t lose it. Or …” He looked away. “I dunno. It’s stupid.”

“Or you’ll feel like you lost part of her?”

Aaron stared at Jayce. “Yeah.” Relief flooded that one word, even as understanding flooded his heart.
Okay, Mom. I get it. This is how it feels when someone listens to you with his heart instead of his head
. “So when I saw you wearing the lion, well, I got mad. Like you were trying to take away part of Mom.” He kicked at the ground. “Pretty lame, huh?”

The hand that came down on his shoulder was gentle. “Nah. It’s not lame. It makes sense. I mean, I never knew my mom, but there’s this little blanket, you know, that she bought for me when I was a baby. Just before she left.”

Aaron nodded.

“I still have it. I stick it inside my pillowcase, so it’s right by me when I sleep.” He stared at the ground. “It’s kind of like … I don’t know …”

“Like she’s holding you.”

Jayce gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Like that.” He let go of Aaron’s shoulder. “Anyway, no sweat, man. I understand. I guess it makes sense you’d think I stole it.”

“No.” Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets. “It didn’t make sense at all. You’re my friend.” Something flickered in Jayce’s eyes, but Aaron didn’t stop. He wanted Jayce to know. “And I shoulda trusted you.”

Jayce didn’t say anything for a second, then he gave a small smile. “So, I guess we both jumped to conclusions.”

“Cool.”

Jayce frowned. “Cool?”

“Yeah.” Aaron grinned then knelt to fold the tent. “That means it’s over with, and we don’t have to do it again.”

Jayce stared at him for a heartbeat, then shook his head. “You’re as strange as your sister.”

“Hey! No need to be insulting.”

Jayce laughed.

“And Jayce?”

“Yeah?”

Aaron pointed to the hand still holding the lion’s head. “Don’t try giving that back to Shannon. If she gave it to you, she really wants you to have it. You’ll just hurt her feelings if you give it back.”

Jayce looked from Aaron to the pendant.

“I’m not kiddin’, man. You don’t want to hurt her, do ya?”

The uncertainty faded from Jayce’s features. “No.” That was it. One word. But as he said it, he slipped the cord back around his neck, then bent to help with the tent.

Strange, though … Aaron couldn’t get rid of the weirdest feeling. That Jayce’s response wasn’t just agreement.

It was a vow.

Dan grabbed the last sleeping bag and tossed it into the back of his SUV.

“We have it all?”

Jayce turned to survey the empty campsite. “Unless you want to take the trees with us.”

“Smart aleck.”

His only response was a particularly mischievous grin. Then his expression changed. “Hey, I just wanted … you know. To say thanks.” He looked around them. “This was good.”

Dan smiled. “Yeah, it was.”

“And I wanted to let you know, so there aren’t any misunderstandings—” he pulled the lion’s head pendant out of his shirt—“Shannon gave me this. If you don’t want me to have it—”

“Why wouldn’t I want you to have it?”

Dan watched the play of emotions on the boy’s face.

“I dunno. ’Cuz her mom gave it to her?”

Dan leaned against the vehicle. “And now Shannon gave it to you.”

“Yeah.”

Dan pushed away and shut the tailgate. “Then she must think very highly of you.” Dan angled a look at the boy. “That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah.” Jayce slid the pendant back inside his shirt. “Yeah, it is.” He took a deep breath. “I like the way it smells out here. Like trees. It’s how my dad’s clothes used to smell, back when he worked the trees.”

Dan had been about to call for Aaron and Shannon, who’d gone down to the lake for one last look, but he hesitated. This was the first time Jayce had talked about his father. “He was a logger?”

“A choke setter.”

Dan lifted a brow. Choke setters fastened steel cables or chains around piled-up felled logs so they could be moved to the landing area. They faced dangers of all kinds, from rolling logs to rough terrain. A family friend, like many in Dan’s father’s generation, had been a logger. A choke setter. When a machine operator had made a mistake, the cables the friend just set around the logs snapped, and the logs rolled right over him, killing him. “Hazardous job.”

“Yeah, but they said Dad was good at it. And the way he talked about it, I could tell. He loved logging, trees.”

Jayce’s eyes had a faraway look in them. “He lost his job before I was born. But when I was little, he used to take me to the lumberyard with him sometimes, just to show me the different kinds of lumber. Tell me what trees they were from. Like he was teaching me how to be a logger someday. Like he believed the industry would bounce back.”

The boy’s lips lifted in a small smile. “I was pretty young, but I felt … I don’t know, good. Like when we were there in the yard, my dad and I were close. Connected.”

He blinked. “ ’Course, the lumber industry took another
dive, and they finally closed the yard down.” An indefinable emotion darkened his features as he looked down at the ground. “I keep hoping someday it’ll be used again. Not like now.”

Dan reached out to squeeze the boy’s drooping shoulder. “Must be depressing to see the place deserted.”

Jayce looked up, and Dan saw the sorrow there.

“I’m sorry, Jayce.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t close it down.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry … about your dad. That you don’t get to see him.”

Another shrug, this one more curt. “That’s the way life is, you know?”

“But it shouldn’t be.” Dan held the boy’s gaze. “You deserve better.”

The snort told Dan Jayce didn’t buy that for a minute. “Yeah, like a kid with a dad in prison deserves anything—”

“Your value lies in who
you
are, Jayce. Not in who your dad is.”

Dan could see, in the haunted look in the boy’s eyes, that his words struck a chord.

“Haven’t you heard, Mr. Justice? Everyone says I’m my father’s son.” He looked away. “Even Gram.”

“No.”

Jayce turned back, his brow wrinkled.

“You’re your own person, Jayce. You make your own decisions about how you live your life. You can take the same path your father did, or you can choose another way. A better way.”

Suspicion glinted in those blue eyes. “You talkin’ about God?”

Dan laughed. “I’m talking about doing what’s right. And yes, God makes that a lot easier. He wrote the Book on right and wrong, you know.”

Humor wrestled with doubt on Jayce’s features, until a smile finally emerged. “Yeah, I think I did hear that somewhere before.”

“So are we going home, or what?”

Dan and Jayce turned to see Aaron and Shannon coming through the now-empty campsite. Dan smiled. “We are going home. Okay, you monsters—” he let the teasing affection in his tone encompass all three of them—“pile in.”

“Shotgun!” Aaron ran to pull open the front passenger door. Dan wasn’t the least surprised when Shannon didn’t protest. As much as she loved riding shotgun, she was content this trip to sit in the back. With Jayce.

The kids got in the car, shoving and nudging each other, filling the air with their teasing laughter. Dan lagged behind, soaking in the sight and sound of their happiness.

How could a week just disappear in a heartbeat? It seemed they’d only arrived yesterday, and yet they’d been here five days. Five days of fishing and swimming and canoeing and telling stories and watching the kids grow ever closer. Aaron and Jayce were as comfortable—and as competitive—as any two brothers Dan had ever seen. And Shannon alternately bossed and hugged on them both with impunity.