“So you see why—you see why he—”
“Yeah,” I interrupted. I wiped my eyes and sighed. My heart felt heavy. “Everything that happened—all of this—it was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“In a sense it was. I provoked stuff with Brian so that it escalated. Everything that happened afterwards—”
“Was not all your doing. Franklin’s going to jail, and you’re not.”
“I thought it would be easier,” I said.
“What?”
“Finding out the truth.”
“I never wanted to get back into all of that.”
“Me neither. But God has a way of putting things in your life you don’t want.”
Alec laughed.
“What?”
“Jake—come on. You really buy all of that stuff?”
“I have to believe it. It’s not a choice.”
“Why?” Alec asked.
“Because if I don’t—if it’s nothing—then I gotta cope with blood on my hands. Don’t you get it? It’s selfish, I guess. But if these mistakes and sins can’t be taken away—then I’m stuck with them. I’ll live my whole life with these things on my soul.”
“Yeah. But what if you don’t have a soul?”
“Then I go to my grave guilty.”
“You’re not guilty,” Alec said.
“We’re all guilty.”
“I don’t think so. They did it to themselves.”
“That makes you no different than Carnie.”
“How so?”
“You’ll die without hope.”
“I won’t kill myself.”
“Maybe not. But twenty—forty—sixty years from now—you’ll die. And then what? Then what?”
“Blackness.”
“I don’t want to go my whole life without hope, Alec. I did it for almost thirty years. I didn’t want to keep going. Not believing in something. Without believing that the pain I held—those awful memories—those failures that haunted me—that they couldn’t go away.”
“Have they?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale. Or a good shrink.”
“You remember the last thing—the last conversation we had? When you almost killed us in the car?”
Alec thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
“You said that you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a liar.”
“I’m not.”
“Same goes for me, Alec. I’m not lying. Especially not to you. We’ve gone through too much for me to start preaching something I don’t believe. I know when the time comes, something will be on the other end.”
“Maybe.”
“I want to see you there.”
Alec nodded, silent, looking up at the sky.
“We’re no different, you know,” I said.
“Yeah, we are,” he said in a matter-of-fact way.
“No, we’re not. We’re all in the same boat. A leaky boat that’s sinking. Going down until someone rescues us.”
“Until someone judges us. If God does exist, the only thing He’s going to want to do with me is send me straight down to hell.”
“And that’s what we deserve. That realization drove me to my knees.”
“I don’t particularly want to get down on my knees,” Alec said.
I didn’t know how to respond, wondering if I’d already said too much. The words sounded strange coming from my lips, my heart trying not to be trite or superficial or hypocritical. I just knew that if I never had another chance and if I let things pass just as I had with Carnie, I might never be able to get over that guilt.
I thought that this was all I could say for the moment, then I remembered the last words that I took away from Providence College, the very last words that haunted me years afterward and then finally ended up comforting me.
The last words I thought I’d ever hear from Alyssa Roberts.
I said them to Alec in the most honest, matter-of-fact way I could. “That’s all I can offer you, man,” I finished. “That’s all I know to do.”
“Yeah.”
And after what could have been an awkward embrace but turned into a strong bear hug that surprised me, I said goodbye to the friend I knew as Alec.
FIFTY-ONE
May 1994
TREES AND HOUSES and cars and people and life passed by outside his window as Jake watched and wondered when he’d be able to join them. It wasn’t supposed to work out like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. There had to be more to the story, had to be something else. Somebody had to rescue him. Somebody had to come and take this gnawing pain away.
But the only one left was Bruce, who had stopped by Dunkin’ Donuts to get them some coffee and breakfast and was now driving him back home from the police station, where Jake had spent the night.
“How’re you feeling?” Bruce asked.
“I’ve felt worse.”
“You look bad.”
“Not as bad as my car,” Jake said. “The cops said it was totaled. They said I’m lucky to be alive. That I had some guardian angels watching over me.”
“Yeah, maybe you do.”
Jake shook his head. “Where were they when Carnie decided to swallow a bottle of pills? That’s my question.”
He still felt woozy and weak from the night before. He thought of the approaching call to his parents. It didn’t matter. They would be upset, but there was nothing they could do to make things worse.
I’m already grounded, Jake thought. And I will be the rest of my life.
“Wait till my parents hear about this,” he said.
“You gotta tell them?”
Jake laughed. “Sorta hard not to. Unless you want to drive me around all summer.”
“No, thanks.” Bruce finished his coffee and tossed the cup onto the floorboard. “Actually, I’m going back home myself. I’m all packed up. Ready to bolt.”
In the parking lot, Bruce’s car parked but still running, they said their good-byes. Simple, male good-byes. Jake opened his car door, but before getting out, Bruce stopped him.
“Jake?”
He looked over at his friend. “Yeah?”
“Think we’ll be able to move on? That all this will just be—just be like some distant memory we will all slowly forget?”
Jake forced a smile. “I hope.”
He walked into the empty apartment and felt the chill of the cool summer morning. The bedroom window was opened slightly, letting some air creep in. A fan someone had left on blew the breeze steadily, stirring the only bit of life left in the rooms. The blank walls stared at him in silence.
It was over. The people, the parties, the privileges youth allowed … all of it was over. May soon would be turning into June. He had graduated, and the first thing he had done was go out and get a DUI. Some people got jobs, but not Jake. He had lost two best friends in a matter of weeks. One disappeared and the other killed himself. Both left with answers Jake wanted and needed.
The apartment echoed the last four years of his reckless life. Nothing but a few bags of trash and a few lifeless posters remained. The framed picture of James Dean still hung over his bed.
He walked to the kitchen and surveyed the scene. It was the cleanest it had been since the guys moved in. He didn’t see the blinking light of the answering machine at first, and when he did, he figured it was one of the guys saying good-bye or asking for something.
Instead, it was Alyssa. The soft, sweet voice that he had longed to hear. It felt like aloe on sunburned skin.
“Hi, Jake. It’s Thursday, and I just wanted to tell you—I’m so sorry to hear about Carnie. I can’t say how awful I feel. I’m so sorry. And I wish I could have told you this in person, but I just didn’t have the strength. So I’m doing it now. Like this. I apologize for not being stronger. But I hope you get this message.
“Everything happens for a reason, Jake. I know how clichéd and empty that might sound. Even saying it—I know
how it comes across. But things do happen for a reason. Carnie’s death—I don’t know why it happened. But I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry for you losing your friend.
“I believe God put you in my life for a reason and a purpose. Maybe not for the one you hoped. But for other reasons, perhaps. I don’t know. All I can do is pray for you, Jake. And I promise that I will keep praying for you, even after you’re long gone. You know what I believe. So all I can tell you is to remember this. God loves you as much as He loves me. And wherever you go in this world, He’ll still continue loving you.
“I hope you find yourself, Jake. And that you find your way. I’ll never forget you or our friendship.
“I’ll be praying for you. And praying our paths cross again one day.”
FIFTY-TWO
July 2005
“HOW YOU FEELING?”
Bruce looked at me and grinned. “It’s time to finally start smoking for medicinal purposes.”
I laughed and shook my head. We had upgraded to a Holiday Inn, and sat in chairs in the lobby. Bruce’s bag sat by his feet.
“So what’s next?” I asked.
“I was going to ask you that same question.”
“I’m meeting Alyssa for breakfast in a few minutes. After that, I’m not exactly sure.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Bruce looked healthier since he’d managed to get outside and get some sun. I’d been trying to get him to eat as much as possible. Aside from his walking slowly and not being able to bend over, he didn’t look like someone who had been shot in the gut less than a month ago.
“This is sorta weird,” Bruce said.
“What?”
“In the end, it’s just you and me again. Must be fate.”
“Or the sign of a true friend.”
“A true friend probably would’ve told you the whole truth,” Bruce said.
“Yeah. But you kept me out of trouble.”
“I took a bullet for you, man,” he joked, sounding like a beer commercial.
A cab pulled up in front of the hotel.
“I’m not big into good-byes.”
I nodded. “Me neither.”
“Wherever I end up—I’ll let you know.”
“Sure. You’ve got my cell number. Among others.”
“Think things will work out?”
I wasn’t sure what Bruce referred to. Everything related to Brian Erwin and Alec and Carnie and Franklin? Maybe. But he might be talking about my job. Or my life.
Or Alyssa.
“Things happen for a reason,” I said.
“Think so? Really?”
“I do.”
“Maybe I’ll see you before another ten years go by.”
“Somebody’s got to keep you out of trouble. And alive.”
I shook Bruce’s hand, and he grabbed his bag and ambled out of the hotel. I knew I would see him before too long. It wasn’t a promise I was going to make to him. It was a promise I had made to myself.
Alyssa was waiting for me at the Starbucks minutes away from college. I drove down the street, the windows open and the temperature a couple hours from being stuffy. On the seat beside me was my itinerary. The one-way e-ticket was for an afternoon flight.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her, although I’d rehearsed the conversation in my mind a hundred times. Over the last four weeks, we had spent a lot of time together. And during that time I had contemplated moving back to Illinois and making a transition in my life. My failing business could be left behind. So could the few ties I had in Colorado.
I didn’t want to leave Alyssa behind. Not again.
Sometimes I wondered why God put certain people in my life. Alec. Bruce. Carnie. Alyssa. Back when I thought life was completely random and that I held my fate and destination in my hands, I never thought about such things. But ever since God tracked me down in a shabby hotel in Kathmandu, things had never been the same. After that fateful climb in the Himalayas, I knew that something had to give.
I never thought it would be my heart.
Alec’s words resonated in my head. Sounds like a fairy tale. And it did. Some people might hear my story and roll their eyes, thinking I’d come up with a way to appease my guilt and placate my soul. But I had nothing to do with it.
I pulled the car into the parking lot and got out. I felt anxious about the conversation I was about to have. After everything that had happened, how could I just move on and live happily ever after? That was the piece of my faith that people had a problem with. This whole business of living happily ever after in heaven with God for eternity—it sounded made up and truly unbelievable, especially in light of everything down here on earth.
Sounds like a fairy tale.
I used to think that too. All I could tell them was my story, and how I was a different person now.
I opened the door and saw Alyssa sitting in an armchair that faced another empty one. She saw me instantly and smiled, that smile reminding me of the first time I saw her a month ago in this same place.
Then I thought of the first time I ever saw her, in the dean’s office at Providence. Alyssa was a different person back then, and so was I. God knew we needed to have that first fateful meeting, and that our paths would cross again somewhere down the road.
God knew we would need each other later in life. And I believed with every ounce of my being that he had allowed us to come back together. Seeing Alyssa’s gaze, her sweet smile—I realized my decision had already been made.
The world loves sad endings—dark, tragic endings—but this wasn’t going to be one of them.
Acknowledgments
WITH SPECIAL THANKS to the following people:
Andy McGuire, for letting me tell this story and helping me grow as a writer.
LB Norton, for guiding me along and helping the editing process go as smoothly as it ever has.
Mom and Dad, for your never-ending encouragement and belief in me.
Cecil E. White, for your incredible gift I’ll never be able to repay.
Claudia Cross, for taking a chance to work together.
Barry Smith, for your partnership, your passion, and most of all, your friendship.
Keri Tryba, for being a vital part of the AR team and so much fun to work with.
Everybody at Moody Publishers, for your continued confidence in my writing.
To all the people who put up with my antics at Trinity.
To my friends and co-workers, who should know this is a work of fiction.
And, of course, to Sharon, who knows that some of it isn’t. But who stayed with me anyway.
COMING SOON FROM TRAVIS THRASHER …
BLINDED
Michael Grey is about to experience his very own dark night of the soul.
Michael has it all worked out: 37 years old, married, two kids, beautiful home, churchgoer, marketing director on the rise. How much of it will he risk for a seductive smile from a stranger? Alone in New York on a business trip, Michael finds out.
A simple conversation and a short phone call plunge Michael into a night out of his control. He starts by flirting with temptation and ends up fighting for his life. Michael finds himself on the run with nowhere to go, and as the night grows longer, he wonders if he will live to see the rising sun.
What could make a happily married man abandon all reason for a night with a beautiful woman? And what if the beautiful woman is not what she seems? Michael’s decision might not just destroy his family. It might wreck his life. And his soul.
Blinded, the gripping new novel from Travis Thrasher, will be available in fall, 2006.
ONE
4:47 p.m.
“MIND IF I JOIN YOU?”
These are not the words you expect to hear. Not now, on a Friday midafternoon in Manhattan. Not after the two days you’ve had. Not after the cancelled dinner and the cancelled account. And positively, definitely, not coming from the beautiful woman in heels standing before you.
For a moment you’re
lost for words. You’re never lost for words. But for half a second, you can’t say anything.
Only half an hour ago you saw the same figure settle into her seat and order a glass of wine and cross her legs and watch the sidewalk close to Rockefeller Center. Sipping a red and people watching, just like you were doing. You looked away, first at the table in front of you, then at the half glass of Pinot Grigio, then the empty chair facing you, then the glisten of your wedding ring in the sun. But your eyes found their way back to the blonde again, sitting in front of you, her profile in full view, her eyes glancing over and easily spotting your gaze.
You were the first to look away.
And this sort of fun, harmless glancing went on for half an hour as the motion of the city blurred behind. People getting off work, tourists roaming, couples strolling. You are here because you’ve ordered wines from this place before. Wine is a hobby you’ve only picked up the last couple of years; it’s harmless, but you still keep it from some of the couples you know. Drinking has a certain stigma to some of your church friends. But in a city far away from the suburbs of Chicago, nobody is going to find you. Nobody is going to care if you’re on your second glass. And if you’re staring at one of the hottest women you’ve ever seen.
It doesn’t hurt to look.
But for some reason she’s now standing in front of you, looking down at you, grinning, waiting for an answer.
“Sure.”
That’s all you say.
So this woman, perhaps in her late twenties, sits down across from you, a glass half full in her hand. For a moment she continues watching the sidewalk without feeling the need to say anything.
You have no idea how your life is about to change.
“Where are you from?” she asks after you share small talk over wine.
“I look like a tourist?”
“You don’t look like a New Yorker.”
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