Faith closed her Bible and stared outside at the garden her father had planted. Shrubs and rosebushes stood barren but for a few tenacious buds. You were in control back when Jordan's mother died too, right, God?
She flipped to the very last page in her Bible, the blank space after the concordance and maps and historical facts. The place for personal notes. Faith had gotten the Bible for her thirteenth birthday, and back then, back when the Lord didn't seem to be hearing Jordan, she'd written her thoughts on that last page.
It had been years since she'd read what was written there, but today, in the silence of her parents’ house, she was drawn back the way a moth is drawn to a porch light. She was suddenly des-perate to remember her little-girl heart and the way she'd felt when life was falling apart for Jordan Riley She'd written dates next to her earliest entries; her words scribbled in the smallest print possible. Nov. 3, 1985—Why is this happening, God? I told Jordan to read the verse that says, “Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it… “But his mom is still sick Help me understand…
And another entry six weeks later: Jordan's mother died…his sister got taken away… Didn't we pray hard enough, Lord? Didn't You hear us?
Faith let her eyes read over those entries again and again until tears clouded her vision. Suddenly she understood her own motive for waging battle on behalf of the Jesus statue. It was as clear as if someone had lit a match in the darkest cavern of her heart. The losses Jordan suffered that fall had changed her as much as they'd changed him. Indeed, they'd affected everything about their lives since then.
For Jordan, the unanswered questions and bitter seeds of doubt had sprouted into a full-blown war that raged in his heart to this day. He'd taken up his position, deciding that God either didn't exist or He was the enemy Faith's reaction had been the exact opposite.
At first, with no answers to anchor to, Faith had lived life with a lack of conviction. She spoke like a believer, attended church, and read her Bible, but her life choices bore out some-thing altogether different. The hard decisions—what to do when Mike Dillon pressured her, when to take a stand in her role as television anchor, whether to adopt Rosa Lee—were decisions she made without seeking God. Instead they were decisions she made out of fear. Fear of losing Mike, losing her job, failing Rosa Lee.
And now, for the first time, she understood why Deep down in the hidden places of her heart Faith had been afraid that if she depended on God, He would let her down… just as He'd let Jordan down the winter of 1985. Without consciously acknowledging it, she'd decided long ago it was better not to ask much of God. And she'd built her life around that philosophy… until the Jesus statue came under attack.
In light of her father's death and the judge's mandate that the statue be removed, Faith had unwittingly recognized it was time. Time to take God out of the closet and see what He might do in response to her prayers.
That was why this case meant so much to her. She desper-ately-wanted to believe again, the way she'd believed in the days before Jordan's mother got sick. The Jesus statue wasn't the only thing with walls around it. Faith had put walls around God Himself. Protective walls, so that the Lord of her childhood might never be called upon to do anything miraculous, anything that might not come to pass and cause Faith to be disappointed. Anything that might put Him in a bad light.
The rain was coming harder now, and tears came from the depths of Faith's soul. She ran her fingers over her neatly written words, the painfully penned cries that had come from her child like heart. She would never know this side of heaven why God had taken Jordan's mother, why life had been so hard on him back then. But she knew what Scripture taught. She closed her eyes and let the verse from John wash over her soul: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
That was it, wasn't it?
Jesus had overcome the world. Regardless of how things turned out here and now, He was in control. Just like He'd been back when Judas agreed to betray Him. Nothing, not death or anger or lawsuits or lost jobs or homeless children, nothing could derail God's plans. The revelation felt like someone had lifted a truck from Faith's shoulders, and she desperately wished the same for Jordan.
A knock at the door pulled Faith back to reality. She closed her Bible, thanking God for letting her finally understand the fear that had eaten at her all her life, the poor decisions she'd made as a young adult, and her current determination to fight for what was right. She padded across the living room and opened the front door.
What she saw sent her heart spinning into her throat.
“Jordan…” He was so handsome, so much like the boy he'd been all those years ago. And this time the hard edges around his eyes were gone. She composed herself and held his gaze for a moment before speaking. God, I don't know why You brought him here, hut use me… give me the words to say so that maybe he could understand You better She swallowed hard and motioned toward the living room. “Come in.”
Jordan had debated long and hard about making the trip to Faith's house, but in the end he knew he had no choice. With her skills as a reporter and her status as the town's most favorite per-son, she was possibly the only one who could help him find the files. And they needed to be found. Ever since their conversation the other day he'd wondered if somehow Heidi had gotten wrong information. If she believed—wherever she was—that he was dead, buried these past sixteen years. The visit would be purely informational, he'd told himself. He'd ask Faith for help, but avoid anything else.
Then she opened the door—and he had to order his emotions back into place. What kind of fool was he to fight against a woman like Faith Evans? Her eyes were so blue he felt sucked into them, and he struggled to remember why he'd come at all. She interrupted his thoughts with her invitation.
“Thanks.” He wiped his feet on the outdoor mat and stepped inside. “Sorry to bug you at home.”
Faith crossed her arms and lowered her head, her eyes lifted to his expectantly.
Jordan felt like a blushing schoolboy in her presence and he forced himself to speak. “I'm… sorry I didn't talk to you the other day at court.”
She shrugged, her face still full of questions. Obviously he hadn't come to tell her that.
“Is your mother home?” Through all that had happened those past few months in Bethany he was sorry he hadn't seen Faith's mom, the woman who had been so helpful those last weeks before his own mother died.
“No.” Faith's voice was quiet, guarded. “She's still in Chicago.”
He nodded and studied his wet shoes as the tension between them grew He wanted to take her in his arms and apologize for the other night, tell her that he needed her, and beg her not to hate him for his views against God. But he knew the idea was ridiculous. If he was going to get her help with the files, he'd bet-ter ask her now, before she kicked him out. He lifted his eyes to hers and held her gaze. “I need your help.”
She stepped back and something in her features softened. “Take off your shoes.” She leaned against the wall, her head angled in a way that reminded him of the young girl she'd been. “We can talk in the living room.”
Jordan slipped off his loafers and followed her, waiting until she settled into the recliner before taking the chair beside her. “I want to see Heidi's file…in case the state gave her the wrong information.”
“About the accident?” Faith's tone was hesitant, but at least she hadn't asked him to leave.
“Right. I've been to the courthouse and the records are sealed. I guess the file might even be at a different office now.” He shrugged. “No one gives me a straight answer.”
Faith nodded and shot a look at the ceiling. After a moment her gaze returned to his. “What about your file? Have you looked at that?”
Jordan settled back in his chair and stared at her. “Why my file? There wouldn't be anything there about Heidi.”
“No, but there'd be information about you. Like whether the state thinks you died.”
Jordan shoo
k his head, trying to follow her reasoning. “No, because the state sent me to the next boys’ camp.”
“Right, but it was in a different state. It's possible they opened a new file on you there and never corrected the one in Pennsylvania.”
Jordan felt the smallest ray of hope pierce his heart. “I have nothing to do today or tomorrow and I thought… “He exhaled slowly and dropped his gaze to the floor. Why should she help him now, after he'd been so rude the other night, letting her run off without even trying to stop her.
Before he could voice his question, before he could excuse himself and tell her to forget he'd ever come, he felt her hand on his. He caught her look and saw a love he hadn't known since leaving Oak Street. A love for which he had no earthly explanation. “Jordan, I understand your political stance. I know we're public enemies at this point, but that doesn't change who I am inside. Or who you are.” She smiled through eyes wet with tears. “I'll do whatever I can to help you.”
They took his car and entered the courthouse thirty minutes later.
Faith was careful not to let her emotions get the upper hand, not to let Jordan too close. She did not want a repeat of the ten-der, stolen moments they'd exchanged the other night—not when she knew there was no future for Jordan and her. Not together, anyway.
As they parked the car, Jordan turned to her, and she could see the apology in his eyes. “This could be uncomfortable for you.”
She understood. People would recognize them and wonder why they were together. Faith refused to acknowledge her con-cerns about the matter. “For you, too.”
The muscles in his jaw tensed, and he caught her gaze and held it. “I couldn't care less what people think about me.”
Faith wondered at the strength of his statement. She'd seen him talking to a man who was obviously a colleague the other day at court. Clearly the case held great significance to him both professionally and personally. But that wasn't her concern. She cast him a guarded smile and opened the car door. “Okay let's Jordan wore a sweatshirt, blue jeans, and a baseball cap, and Faith figured the lack of a suit would help hide his identity He kept his gaze on the floor, the bill of his cap down as they made their way to the front desk. Faith recognized the woman at the counter and smiled. “Hey Cheri, how're you doing?”
The woman's eyes instantly lit up, and she grinned at Faith. “I've seen you on TV and in the papers, Faith. Everyone's so proud of you… giving up your job and all.” The woman leaned forward as though she had an important secret. “The whole town's rooting for you.”
The woman's words warmed Faith's heart, and again she thought of the revelation she'd had earlier that morning. No mat-ter how it looked, God was in control. “Thanks, Cheri.”
The woman glanced at Jordan, who was standing a ways off looking at a pamphlet he'd picked up from the counter. Faith was quick to explain. “He's an old friend.”
Apparently Cheri didn't recognize him, and she turned her attention back to Faith. “So what can I do for you?”
“Well…” Faith moved as close as she could against the counter. She didn't waht one of the other clerks to hear her request. Cheri was an acquaintance from high school, and Faith was fairly certain the woman would get whatever files Faith needed. Even if it meant bending a rule or two. “I need to see a couple of foster care files. They might be sealed, but I'll only take a few minutes with them.”
Nervousness flashed in Cheri's eyes, but she nodded. “Okay 111 see what I can do. What're the names?”
Faith paused. “Heidi and Jordan Riley They were brother and sister.”
As soon as Faith said the names, Cheri's eyes opened wide. “The same Jordan Riley who's attacking our town?”
Faith had hoped the woman wouldn't ask, but now she had no choice but to be honest. She tried to sound confident. “Exactly”
Cheri's eyebrows bunched in the center of her forehead. “Does this have something to do with the Jesus statue case?”
Adrenaline flooded Faith's bloodstream as she searched for an honest answer. Did it have something to do with the case? Well, if the files helped Jordan find Heidi and if that, in turn, helped him get past his anger with God… then it would have everything to do with the case. “Yes.” She nodded her head firmly. “Yes, it does.”
That was all she needed to say. Cheri's eyes danced, and Faith could see she was grateful to be part of Faith's plans to outdo Bethany's enemy “Two separate files, right? One for each of them?”
Faith nodded. “Right.”
“Okay wait here.” She cast a glance at the workers stationed on either side of her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I'll see what I can find.”
Cheri disappeared, and Jordan was immediately at her side. “You asked for both?” He kept his gaze fixed on the voting brochure still in his hands but she could hear the disbelief and gratitude in his voice.
“Can't hurt.” She nodded toward a counter with other pam-phlets and information. “Keep busy. The last thing I want is her recognizing you.”
Several minutes went by before Cheri returned. She had two folders tucked under her right arm. She approached the counter with a forced air of nonchalance and slipped them over to Faith as quickly as she could. “Twenty minutes, Faith.” She gave Faith a wink. “The supervisor'll be back after that, and I need them put away She'd have my head on a platter if she found out what I was doing.”
“Thanks.” Faith swept the folders up against her body and turned to leave. She didn't check to see if Jordan was behind her, but she could feel him there, a few steps back. As she made her way back outside she kept her face focused on the ground ahead of her. Now that she had the files, she wanted to avoid being rec-ognized. Two minutes later she and Jordan were back in his car.
Jordan's features were pale. “I can't believe it was so easy. I've tried getting my hands on Heidi's file every year since I was twenty-two.”
“Drive to the back of the side lot. No one parks there.” Faith kept the files tightly on her lap while Jordan did as she said.
When they'd found a spot far from other cars, Jordan turned to her, his eyes filled with wonder. “No matter what these files contain… you'll never know how much this means to me, Faith.”
She could feel her heart getting sucked into the moment and she steeled herself, giving him only a quick smile and pushing the folders into his hands. “Read them. We have less than twenty minutes.”
Jordan looked at his file first. There were several entries beginning with the report from what appeared to be a neighbor. It stated that Jordan and Heidi were living alone after the death of their mother. He'd always wondered who'd reported them, but the man's name didn't look familiar. It didn't matter. The neigh-bor wasn't to blame; certainly he'd had good intentions. State officials would have figured it out eventually.
Jordan scanned the pages as quickly as he could, flipping past the report detailing the day Jordan and Heidi were brought into care and the one that came a few days later: “Jordan is a very unhappy boy He talks about his sister constantly and threatens to run away He appears to he a troublemaker” For a brief instant, Jordan wanted to cry for the boy he'd been and the way the state officials had wrongly labeled him. There hadn't been a trace of trouble-maker in him. Just a brokenhearted boy who had promised his dying mother he'd take care of his sister.
He flipped a few more pages and saw the entry when he'd finally made good on his threat to run away from the temporary foster home: “Police say Jordan was belligerent and borderline vio-lent. He kept insisting that his sister lived nearby and she needed him. Social worker says the girl is adjusting fine and that a visit will be arranged sometime in the next two weeks.”
“Anything good?” Faith's voice brought him back to reality, and Jordan shook his head. He'd almost forgotten she was still in the car.
“Not yet.”
“Fifteen minutes, okay?”
“Okay” He skipped a few entries and found the one marked Accident Report. The hairs on his arms stood up as
he searched the tiny fields of information looking for a sign, something to confirm that his condition had been wrongly reported. Finally, at the bottom of the document, he found what he was looking for. In a section marked Condition of Child was written one word: Deceased.
Deceased… deceased… deceased…
Jordan's eyes moved over the word again and again until he felt sick to his stomach. A note was attached after the report: “Collapsed cave accident claimed the lives of numerous boys at the camp includingjordan Riley. State to investigate. Case closed”
It was the last notation in the file.
“It's right here…” He pointed to the sheet and angled it so Faith could read the important parts. ‘They…they think I'm dead.”
Faith stared at the report, her face a mask of concern. “Your active file must be in New Jersey.” She sighed. “That happens sometimes. The system has too many files and when someone gets something wrong—especially if the subject moves out of state—sometimes the error is never found.”
Jordan stared at the entry and his hands began to tremble. The real answers lay in the other folder—Heidi's file. He closed his own and handed it back to Faith. Then he did what he'd wanted to do for sixteen years—open the document that would give him a window to Heidi's other life, the one she had lived since that awful afternoon when the state worker took her away.
He drew a steadying breath and began reading. The reports were arranged in chronological order, stapled to the inside so that they could be read correctly He saw entries similar to those in his file—a report from the neighbor stating that a brother and sister were living alone, the report when she was taken into custody, and a report from the first foster home where she'd been taken. Jordan read every word, soaking it in, desperate to know what had happened to her.
“Heidi is very cooperative. She is sad about the loss of her mother and talks of wanting to see her brother. But she has made great strides in getting along with her foster family She is agreeable and despite her age would make an excellent candidate for adoption. “
On Every Side Page 25