Sunset: 4 (Sunrise) (12 page)

John wondered again at the odds of him walking by at just the right time, stumbling across her after all the years that had passed. “I firmly believe there’s a reason why you didn’t die.” The compassion in his heart grew. She was someone’s daughter, a woman who had believed a lie from the devil and so had paid with her life in a number of ways, and now, by nearly dying from an overdose. John put his hand on the bedrail. “I’m going to recommend inpatient psychiatric care for you, admission to a Christian facility downtown.”

The lines around her eyes relaxed a little. “Are you a Christian?” Disdain sounded in her tone and filled her expression. “Seems like there’s a Christian around every corner these days.”

John felt a surge of anger, but he resisted it. The young woman should be dead. She had no room for mocking the kindness of a stranger. Still, she wouldn’t be here if she weren’t being deceived. He exhaled, steadying himself. “Yes, I’m a Christian.” A strange and outrageous idea hit him. “Listen . . . once you’re established at an inpatient facility, we have a group of women at church who make visits to people who are struggling. Would you be open to that?”

A laugh devoid of any humor slid between her lips. “Look, Doctor, you don’t know me. My family’s from Boston, but I left for a degree at the university. Found my way into a personal nightmare, a pile of debt, and what turned out to be a worthless job. Never figured a way back to Boston.” Her eyes closed for several seconds, and when she opened them, her look was harder than before. “If you can find someone in Bloomington who wants to talk to me, more power to you.” Her eyelids fluttered and she yawned. “What’d you say your name was?”

John hesitated. Would she know his name? Did she have any details about the wife of the man she’d had the affair with? If she knew John’s identity, she might shut down and order him out of her room. Either way he had to be honest. He opened his mouth to answer her question, but her eyes were closed. “Angela?”

A soft snoring sound came from her.

John realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled, turned, and left the room. Once he was outside, he thought about what he’d dared to ask her. Whether she would want a visit from one of the women’s ministry volunteers. The thing that made the idea outrageous was that he wasn’t thinking of any random volunteer.

He was thinking of his daughter Kari.

The house was alive with the sounds of
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
, and Jenny Flanigan loved every moment. In the next room Connor was singing “Close Every Door,” one of his Joseph solos, and Bailey was adding the backup vocals. Jenny stirred the pitcher of iced green tea, poured herself a glass, and was walking toward the kids as Jim burst through the back door with Ricky in tow, the two of them laughing. They’d been practicing baseball, and their cheeks were red.

The volume from the next room rose, and Jim made an exaggerated show of putting his hands over his ears.

Jenny made a face at him and jabbed him lightly with her elbow. “Don’t you hear it?”

“Are you kidding?” He produced a mock look of pain. “People half a mile away can hear it.”

“Not the volume.” She rolled her eyes. “The music, our kids’ voices filling the house.” She closed her eyes and swayed to the sound. “It’s the soundtrack of our lives.”

“It’s a loud one.” He chuckled. “I’ll give you that.”

Jenny giggled and pulled on his sleeve. “Come listen to them. They sound really good.”

“Yeah.” Ricky grinned at him. “They do sound pretty good.”

The three of them went to the next room just as Connor’s song was coming to a close. His voice had matured in recent years to a rich tenor, with a powerful sense of vibrato that complemented the song.

Jenny leaned in close to Jim. “I don’t care how well the kid can throw a football. He can definitely sing.”

The teasing from a moment ago faded from Jim’s expression. “They both can.” He slid his arm around Jenny’s waist. “I’m impressed.”

Ricky lost interest as Connor and Bailey began working on another number. He ran upstairs with a promise to return with his baseball cards. “I think I have one worth a hundred dollars!”

Jim gave him a thumbs-up, and then he nodded at his oldest two kids. “Wow . . .” There was appreciation in his voice. “The play’s going to be great.”

“Thanks.” Bailey blushed slightly. “We’re excited about it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Connor stuck his hands in his pockets. “We have a lot of scenes to block still.” He blew at a wisp of his dark hair.

“You’ll get it.” Jenny put her hand on her son’s shoulder. This was his first leading role, and he was taking the responsibility seriously.

Ricky raced down with the baseball card. “See! Here it is!” He thrust it at Jim. “Whadya think? It’s a collector’s item.”

Jim studied the card. “Could be. Keep it in a safe spot. We’ll check the Internet after dinner.” He looked out the window. “Today’s too nice to be inside.”

“Unless you’re rehearsing.” Bailey grinned at him, then nudged Connor. “Which we still have to do.”

“Hey, Dad, let’s go throw a tennis ball to Reggie. He loves that.”

Jim grinned. “How about me and your mom watch?”

Ricky thought for a second and then shrugged. “Sure!” His eyes danced the way they often did. He was so full of life and light, and out of all their kids he was the one most upset whenever anyone in the family was in trouble or needed discipline. “I like it when everyone’s happy,” he would say.

This was that kind of day, and Jenny basked in it.

Connor was finding the next song on their rehearsal CD as Jim reached for Jenny’s hand and led her toward the front door. “Another episode of the Ricky and Reggie show.”

Jenny laughed, loving Jim beside her, the way he made her feel protected and precious at the same time. He was a couple weeks into the initial coaches’ meetings with the Colts and thrilled with the challenge. Just this morning, Ryan Taylor had announced Jim’s resignation to the team, and one of the junior varsity assistants was being promoted to take his spot.

With his busier schedule, Jim had been conscientious about finding time to talk with Jenny, something both of them needed. They walked to the double recliner on the front porch and sat down, still holding hands.

Jim sighed. “I love this view. Have I ever said that?”

“Every time we’re out here.” Jenny snuggled close to him. Sunshine warmed their faces, and the hint of jasmine from a row of plants at the base of the porch wafted up and around them.

Ricky ran into view, using his T-shirt to carry six or seven tennis balls. “This’ll give him some exercise. Here, Reggie! Here, boy!”

Their old Lab came barreling up, stopping short of Ricky and dancing in place, anxious for the first ball.

Inside the house, the kids were singing again and Jim knit his brow, curious. “They sound wonderful. When did that happen, anyway? I mean, just the other day they could sing and dance like the other kids, but they didn’t stand out.”

“I know.” Pride warmed Jenny’s insides. “I have a feeling God’s going to use those kids in a very visible way.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “So . . . tell me about the meeting.”

“It was good.” She felt him tense a little. “I wasn’t looking forward to it.” He was quiet for a moment. “Those kids mean a lot to me.”

Jenny waited, the way she’d learned to do years ago when she and Jim were dating. He would share his heart and soul with her anytime, but she had to listen. Otherwise she could dominate the conversation and walk away knowing nothing new about the man she loved.

“Taylor said something that made me feel good. The guys are still committed to stay away from drinking.”

“Really?” Jenny had wondered how the team was handling the no-alcohol mandate. It was one thing to hand a list of rules to a bunch of teenagers. But after Cody’s near-death incident with alcohol poisoning, Jim and Ryan had given the team an ultimatum: stay away from alcohol or be kicked off the team. Period. At the time Jim had wondered if he was reaching the kids or just preaching at them. Jenny was grateful that the players had responded. “Ryan has to be happy about that.”

“He is.” Jim shrugged. “The guys are okay with me leaving. They have Ryan, and they’re used to working with him. The transition should be easy for everyone.”

“Everyone except you.” Jenny turned so she could see his expression. “You’ll miss those guys.”

“I will.” Jim’s face was relaxed and unlined. He was the picture of peaceful confidence. “The pro players aren’t much different from the high school guys. Bigger and more talented. More at stake. But they still have to work hard, still have to stay away from partying.”

Jenny hadn’t thought of it that way. “You made the right choice.” She slipped her arm around his broad shoulders. “That much is already obvious.”

“For now.” His grin was easy. “In pro football your job is only as good as your win-loss record. But as long as God lets me stay, I couldn’t agree more. It’s where I’m supposed to be.” He winked at her. “Besides, I think Ryan might consider having me back if I’m ever out of work.”

Fifty yards down the gentle slope of the front yard, Ricky flung one tennis ball, then another and another. “Go, Reggie! Get the balls!”

Jim shaded his eyes, watching their youngest son. “I keep thinking how great it’ll be for the younger boys, getting to hang out at the Colts training facility this summer. Falling in love with the game.”

A twinge of concern shot through Jenny’s veins. “Seeing up close how violent the game can be.” She gave him a wary look. Ricky had been born with a heart defect and had undergone emergency surgery as a three-week-old. He was fine now, but he still needed checkups every other year. She exhaled slowly. “It’ll always be hard for me to watch Ricky in a football uniform.”

“Which is why—” he kissed the top of her head—“we hold on loosely. Life is meant to be lived. God would never want a kid as active as Ricky to stand on the sidelines.”

“You’re right.” Jenny knew the appropriate answers when it came to worrying about her kids—whether it was her anxiety over watching Bailey drive off for rehearsal in a downpour with Connor belted into the passenger seat or watching the boys run full force into an opposing player during a soccer match. Her concern for the safety of their children was something she had to take to God often. She could only imagine being the mother of a soldier serving in Iraq, the way Cody’s mother was. Cami Coleman had served time for drug charges, but she was out now. From everything Jenny had heard, she was staying clean. Finally committed to being a good mother for her grown son.

Jenny patted Jim’s knee. “That reminds me. I talked to Cody’s mom yesterday. She hasn’t heard from him in more than a week.”

“It’s a war.” Jim didn’t sound overly concerned. “It’s probably hard to find time for writing letters more often than that.”

“True.” Jenny crossed her arms, remembering the conversation. “She said something that seemed a little strange. Apparently Cody is considering moving to the West Coast when he returns to the U.S.”

Jim nodded slowly. “Cody talked to me about that once a long time ago. Before he lived with us. I guess he always wanted to live in Southern California. Close to the beach.”

“Hmm.” Jenny didn’t want to voice her thoughts, but she didn’t need to.

Jim shot her an understanding look. “Him and Bailey?”

“Well . . .” Jenny squirmed a little. “Him and all of us. He’s like family, so I guess . . . I figured he’d come back here when he was done. I know that’s the impression Bailey had.” She hesitated. “I haven’t told her yet.”

“Cody’s still a kid.” Jim brushed his fingertips against her cheek. “I’ve never been convinced he was right for Bailey for a lot of reasons.”

“Me neither.” Jenny could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “Until last summer . . . before he left for training. There was something special between them.”

Jim leaned forward and planted his elbows on his thighs. “She’s only eighteen. There’s lots of time for love in the years ahead.”

Jenny smiled. Bailey was their only daughter, the little girl who’d had her daddy wrapped around her finger since the day she took hold of his thumb in the hospital nursery. He was never comfortable talking about Bailey and the various boys who had shown her interest at one time or another. “You know how we’ve always told Bailey she’s one in a million?”

“Because she is.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “That girl might have a messy room and run late once in a while, but she’s everything we prayed she’d be.”

“She is.” Jenny felt the familiar fondness for their daughter. “I guess that’s why I like Cody. Even as a friend for Bailey. He has a look in his eyes when he’s around her, like he adores her. Cherishes her, even.” She met her husband’s eyes. “Almost as if he’s the only friend she has who truly sees her as one in a million.”

Jim thought about that for a few seconds, but before he could respond, they heard the phone ringing inside the house.

Jenny sprang up. “I’ll get it. The boys’ soccer tryouts are probably over.” Just inside the front door she slipped into her office and grabbed the cordless receiver from the phone on the desk. “Hello?”

“Jenny?” The voice on the other end sounded too distraught to recognize, muffled and thick, as if the person had been crying.

In as much time as it took to breathe in, Jenny imagined a dozen horrific possibilities, reasons why someone might be calling the house sounding so broken. One of the boys had been severely injured at soccer or something had happened to one of the CKT kids or . . .

“This is Jenny.” She steadied herself against the edge of the desk. “Who’s this?”

“Cami Coleman.”

Cody’s mother.
Jenny clutched the phone to her ear and bent over her knees.
Please, God, not Cody. Don’t let anything be wrong with Cody . . . please.
Her heart slammed in her chest, and she worked to find even a whispered voice. “What . . . what is it?”

“I just got word; I had to call.” Cami was sobbing now, her words hard to understand.

Jenny held her breath and shook her head. It wasn’t possible. The charming kid who had hung out at their house since he was a freshman in high school had to be okay. War was dangerous, but Cody was resourceful, right? “Please talk to me.” The panic in her voice was matched only by the pain on the other end of the line. “Is he hurt?”

“I’m not sure.”

They were the best words Jenny had heard since she answered the phone. Hope coursed through her, but her heart still pounded. “What did they tell you?”

The sound of two quick sobs came across the line. “He . . . he and three of the guys from his platoon are . . . missing in action.” Another few sobs and then a stifled wailing sound. “I don’t know what to do.”

Missing in action?
Jenny paced to the far end of the office. She stared out the window to where Ricky was still throwing the ball to Reggie. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of this new and terrible detail. “Did they say anything else?”

“Hardly anything.” Cami’s sobs were quieter now, but she sounded like she was shaking, giving way to a fear that must’ve known no limits. “Cody and the guys were checking on a deserted building, and they were . . . they were ambushed. At least that’s what they think. Someone reported seeing two Iraqi off-road vehicles speed down a back alley a few minutes after the guys went in.”

Jenny struggled to draw a complete breath. “And then?”