by Karen Ball
Did all girls her age think like this? He wasn’t sure, but he had the feeling Shannon was different.
Something tugged at him, a kind of longing that dug deep, making him ache until realization hit with the force of a fist.
He wanted to be like that.
Special. Happy. In love with the world and everything around him.
But being that way … that was for kids like Shannon. Kids whose parents loved her like they should. Kids whose parents spent time with her, talked with her, laughed with her.
Kids whose parents didn’t land in jail.
He brushed the depressing thought away. “So what’d you want to talk with me about?”
“I have something for you.”
“Yeah?” As before, his mood couldn’t help but lift when he looked at her. “Did you catch a fish and want me to clean it for you or somethin’?”
She giggled. “No, you goof. Look—” she pointed just beyond them—“there’s the camp.”
He followed the direction of her finger. Aaron was visible just beyond the trees, sitting near the campfire toasting something.
“Here.”
Jayce turned his head, looking down at Shannon’s now-outstretched hand. A pendant lay there. He peered close.
“Oh, man …”
A golden lion’s head, with amber eyes catching the sunlight and sparkling as though they were real. It was so lifelike Jayce almost expected it to open its mouth and roar.
“It’s a pendant. You know, a kind of necklace.” She held it up, and he saw that the lion’s head was strung on a leather cord. “I got it for my birthday a couple years ago. It’s Aslan.”
He stretched a finger out to touch it. “Man, that is so cool.” He met Shannon’s eyes. “It looks just like I pictured him.”
Shannon turned it over. “There’s something written on the back.”
Jayce read the engraving: Shannon, See life with God’s eyes. Love, Mom.
“It’s for you.”
He stepped back. Had he heard her right? “I can’t take this. Your mom gave it to you.”
“And I’m giving it to you. I even took it off the chain and put it on a leather cord, ’cuz I thought that was better for a guy.”
“But … why?”
The light in her smile was almost more than he could bear.
“Because you remind me of him.”
Now he was sure he hadn’t heard right. “Of Aslan? I remind you of Aslan?”
Shannon reached out and slid the cord over Jayce’s head. “You’re just like him.” She stepped back, surveying her handiwork. “You’re big and strong and wild. And you growl loud and show your teeth. Everyone knows you’re not a tame lion. But you’re good.” Her open hand rested on his chest, just over his heart, and that gentle touch warmed him to the core. “Down inside.”
Jayce had to try twice to speak. “You think I’m good?”
“Nope.”
What an idiot! He’d almost believed her. He should have known she was just setting him up for someth—
“I don’t think so. I know it.”
It was weird. Jayce had the sense that he was outside himself, watching himself stand there like a dope, staring at Shannon, mouth hanging open. But he couldn’t help it. There had to be something, some hint that she was teasing.
Nothing.
Shannon meant every word.
He reached up and closed his fingers around the lion’s head, feeling the carving with his thumb.
When Mr. Justice handed him that rod and reel the first day they got here, Jayce thought it was the best gift he’d ever received. He was wrong.
Nothing would ever compare to this.
“Do you like it?”
Jayce let go of the lion’s head, but he felt it resting against his chest. “Yeah. I like it a lot.” He gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. “Thanks, squirt.”
He let her hug him and didn’t even have to work hard at not pulling back.
She skipped away, heading through the trees back to their campsite.
She thought he was good. Like Aslan.
No one had ever said anything like that about him before. But the weird thing was, he believed it. Not just that she meant it, but that she just might be right.
You’re kidding yourself. There’s nothing good about you, and you know it.
For once, the voice inside didn’t bother him all that much. Because he’d made up his mind. If he wasn’t good, the way Shannon thought he was, then he’d just do whatever he needed to do to change that.
If Shannon thought he was good, then good he’d be. Because there was no way in this world he was going to let her down.
Dan moved as silently as possible, slipping behind a large tree so Jayce wouldn’t see him.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on Shannon’s conversation with the boy. He’d just been going out to look for the two of them. He was almost on top of them when he heard them talking. Not wanting to intrude, he stopped—and heard the whole exchange.
Now, Dan watched Jayce walk toward his tent, a battle raging inside him. On the one hand, he was proud of Shannon. More proud than he could say. She’d seen a hurting boy and reached out to show him real, honest love. Maybe even the first love of its kind Jayce had ever experienced.
Oh, Dan believed the boy’s grandmother loved him, but she was worn down by the hassles and failures. Shannon didn’t have any of those things to weaken her faith in Jayce.
On the other hand, the concerns Dan felt last night at the campfire came storming back to twist his innards. Shannon was at such a crucial age, where feelings got out of control way too fast. He’d seen too many little girls who should be playing with dolls getting involved and in trouble.
That would not happen to his daughter. No way. No how.
Dan tromped back toward the campsite.
Time for a little father-daughter talk.
The opportunity Dan needed came just a few hours later.
They’d all gone down to the river after lunch to get in some swimming and canoeing. After an hour or so of hard play, Aaron and Jayce decided to hike to Silent Creek. An old codger at the South Store had told them there was no place like Silent Creek for catching fish, so they figured they’d land dinner.
That left Dan and Shannon to walk back to the campsite.
She chattered away, all excitement at the fun they’d just had. And then she gave him the perfect opening. With a sigh the size of Texas, she looked up at Dan and said, “Jayce is really a wonderful boy, isn’t he, Daddy?”
Dan chose his words like a man whose answer would win or lose him a million dollars. “Yes, honey. Jayce is a great kid. Out here, with us. He’s relaxed and having fun, and I’m glad to see that.”
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 wor
d. 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.”