“Are you all right?”
“You’re the one I should be asking that,” she told him. “You and Marty had a pretty late night, I take it.”
“Who squealed?” He studied her for a minute, considering. “Marty’s wife?” he guessed at last.
“She phoned around midnight, looking for her missing husband. I think you two need a curfew more than the kids.”
Tucker grinned. “Maybe. But those kids are doing superb work. The first newspaper is a smash. We’ve run off three batches. Everybody in town seems curious about our little group.”
“I know.” Should she tell him of the worries that were circulating through the Chamber of Commerce after several recent vandalism incidents? “Are they getting more odd jobs?” she asked, putting off the inevitable.
“Some.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to gauge what people are thinking, though I’ve heard complaints about problem kids influencing the local boys. I can’t control what people say. I can only help the boys do the best they can. If people won’t accept their efforts, it’s their loss.”
“It would be nice if some of the local kids joined your group. That would put an end to the rumors.”
“Actually, we’ve got a couple. Not choirboys, by any means, but they’re pulling their weight. I’ve even seen Lane hanging around, giving us a second look.”
“Which may be good or bad, depending on his attitude.” Ginny grinned. “Running this group—it’s not the easiest job in the world, is it?”
“It’s harder than anything I’ve ever done,” he told her with feeling.
Ginny grinned. “But worth it?”
His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet. “I hope so. I’ve certainly butted some heads trying to get the community to accept what we’re doing.”
He drove in silence for several minutes.
“It might be an idea to take the boys to a town council meeting and let the powers that be see how serious these kids are about their club.” She thought for a minute, trying to conceive of a way to set fears at rest. “Maybe the boys could do a profile of each member with each paper.”
Tucker stared at her for so long, Ginny wondered if he’d forgotten he was driving.
“How do you come up with this stuff?” he demanded. “I have to contemplate for hours before I get an idea, and you just roll them off. It’s very annoying.”
Ginny grinned. “Sorry.” She debated whether or not to ask, but eventually decided nothing lost, nothing gained. “Mrs. Bains told me the network’s been after you,” she said tentatively.
Tucker jerked upright as if he’d been burned.
“Yeah, they called a couple of times.” His tone didn’t invite questions.
Ginny asked anyway. “Are you going back?”
“Not yet,” he snapped.
“Tucker—”
“Look, Gin. It’s all a mess.” His hand slapped the steering wheel in disgust.
“Tell me,” she murmured.
“They’re giving me an award. A man died, another was injured, and they’re giving me an award.” He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I don’t want it. I don’t even want to hear about it. And I’m sure as heck not going back to accept it.”
“But—” She stopped the words, but not soon enough. His eyes flashed to hers, pain lurking in their depths.
“But that was what I wanted, isn’t that what you were going to say, Ginny? That’s why I pushed so hard to get the story in the first place—to get that award and the kudos that go along with it. Isn’t that what you were thinking?”
“Not exactly. I was going to say that by accepting their award you could have paid some tribute to Quint. Presumably there is coverage when this award is made?”
He nodded. “Tons.”
“Couldn’t you ask them to hold off announcing it until you’re back so you could receive it personally?”
“I guess.” He kept his eyes averted. “The thing is, that award brings it all back. The bonus I’d been promised, the prestige winning that award would bring, the hype my boss would toss out to the head honcho about me—I can’t help remembering that’s why I insisted on those shots, to get all that.”
Ginny took a deep breath.
“You know, Tucker, I never took you for the kind of man who pities himself.”
“What?” His eyes blazed with anger when he turned his head to glare at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Your power trip. You keep going on and on about being to blame, but you never bother to look inside yourself, to dig a little deeper for your own motives.”
“What motives?” he demanded suspiciously. “I was greedy. What more is there to it?”
“Actually I think there’s quite a lot more to this whole thing, and I think you’re avoiding the truth.”
“Keep going.” His cheek twitched with a nerve that signaled the tight control he exerted on himself. “You’ve said this much, don’t stop now.”
“I wasn’t going to.” She tilted her chin, then said the words he needed to hear. “Think about what you do in relation to the rest of us, Tucker. If you hadn’t shown us the inhumanity, the suffering, the starvation, how long would it have gone on?”
“There are other—”
“Our project, the one we started just after you came to town, that wouldn’t have come about if we hadn’t seen your report. Now, thanks to everyone’s efforts, we have almost enough money collected to make a difference in some lives.” Ginny could see she wasn’t getting through. She prayed for help as she spoke, choosing her next words with great care.
“God used you, Tucker, even though you didn’t realize it. Far from abandoning you, He may have sent you to that very place simply to show the rest of us, sitting comfortably in our safe, middle-class homes, the awful lives of children in those war-torn countries. Who is to know? Who can discern God’s reasons?”
“He could have spared Quint’s life. He could have sent us somewhere else.” The harsh, angry words seemed to spill out in spite of himself.
“He could have, but He didn’t. Think about that, Tuck. Why didn’t He? Maybe there’s something God is trying to show you.”
“Now you’re trying to tell me these doubts, this fear—it’s all on purpose?” He blinked, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She stopped, thought for a moment, then glared at him. “Don’t feed me that stuff about God abandoning you, Tucker. He doesn’t, it’s that simple. He just uses different ways and means to wake us up.”
“Different?” He nodded once, his tone sarcastic. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”
Ginny wanted to let it go, wanted to forget trying to prod him to reconsider the reason for his problems. But she couldn’t. She would say the words that pressed to be spoken, then she’d let Tucker deal with it.
“He’s shifted your world, thrown you out of your comfort zone. Ask yourself why. And don’t settle for quick answers.”
He said nothing more as they reached the outskirts of the city, and neither did Ginny. It was up to God now. She’d said what He put on her mind. Perhaps Tucker would find the answers he sought.
As for her, she had to concentrate on her father. She prayed that this time he’d be able to stay at home, to recover, to share the future with her. Because once Tucker left Jubilee Junction, her father was all she had left.
As Tucker parked in the vast lot, Ginny gathered her courage around her and prayed for peace. Then she opened her car door and stepped onto the pavement.
The lot was almost empty. The usual Sunday afternoon visitors had not yet arrived. They crossed the tarmac, entered the building and snagged an elevator with no problem, whirring up to the fifth floor in a matter of seconds. The door to Adrian’s room was shut.
Ginny took a deep breath, whispered a plea for help, then pasted a smile on her face. She tapped once, then shoved the door open and waltzed inside as if the cares of the world had flown away.
“Hi, Daddy.”
Her father sat, fully clothed, in a big armchair beside the window. His suitcase lay at his feet.
Ginny stared. “What’s all this, Dad?”
He accepted her kiss and hug, returned it with a weaker version of his own, then nodded at Tucker.
“Hi, honey. Tucker. They’re releasing me today. I told them not to call you, that you were coming anyway. I’m ready to go.”
“So soon? Are you sure you’re strong enough?” She checked the pallor of his face and found it remarkably improved.
“I feel better than I have in years, Ginny. Just a little sore where the incision is, but that will be gone in no time. I can hardly wait to get back to work.” He glanced from Tucker to Ginny. He flashed a teasing smile at Ginny. “I’ve already heard what he did with my display at the store. There’s no point pretending the place doesn’t need me. Half the town’s been talking.”
“Maybe. But neither is there any reason for you to think you’re going to waltz out of here and straight into the store.” Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “If that’s what you think, you can stay here another week.”
“No way! I’m sick to death of tea, yellow Jell-O and apple juice.”
Ginny gave him a look she’d often used to quell the boys. It seemed to work. Her father sighed.
“All right, I’ll take it easy. The truth is, I’m so glad to have that pain gone, I’ll be thrilled just to get a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”
“Oh. I see your visitors have arrived.” The nurse breezed into the room with a cheery smile. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
Adrian rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh, very lucky.” He raised his voice, pretending he was talking to Tucker. “Do you know that the staff in this place actually wake you up to ask if you are asleep?”
The nurse sniffed at this remark, handed Adrian a form to sign, then turned to Ginny.
“He’s very hard to please.” She grinned, her back to Adrian, voice severe. “Always ringing for something or other. We have sick people here, you know, Mr. Brown. We can’t afford to have old men lollygagging around.”
“Old? Me?”
They bickered back and forth good-naturedly, then the nurse read the doctor’s instructions.
“Next time you feel ill, get it checked immediately. I know you like to get your money’s worth, Mr. Brown, but I think this time you carried things to the extreme.” She pulled a wheelchair into the room. “And you’re too old for extreme anything,” she teased. “All ready?”
He began to protest, insisted he’d rather walk, but she cut him off.
“Mr. Brown, it is within my power to arrange for your visit with us to be extended. Do you want to test me on this?”
Adrian pursed his lips, got into the wheelchair and rode silently to the entrance. The nurse hugged him goodbye, grinned at them all, then scooted off down the hallway, whistling as she went.
“She’s got your number, Dad.” Ginny couldn’t help but laugh.
“I thought she was nice.” Tucker shifted the suitcase, offering his arm to Adrian.
“She is a great nurse. But for all her smiles, she doesn’t take any guff.” Adrian walked the short distance to the car with no problem. “I kind of like that about her. Though I’d never tell her so. She’d jump at the chance to keep me in there, you know.”
“We gathered.” Ginny shared a grin with Tucker.
“I’d like to stop someplace for lunch,” Adrian told them once everyone was settled inside the vehicle. “I’m starved. Yellow Jell-O at six a.m. does not stick to the ribs.”
Ginny couldn’t talk him out of it, so she gave up trying. Tucker found a restaurant with a Sunday brunch that let Adrian to choose the foods the doctors allowed.
Ginny dawdled over food she didn’t really want, content to listen to her father and Tucker exchange information. This was what she’d always wanted—the three of them sharing their day, being together. It was what she’d spent years dreaming of, hoping for, trusting God to deliver. But Tucker’s confirmation that the network wanted him back made this moment bittersweet.
What had she done wrong to lose that dream? Had she simply been naive to trust so easily, or was it because she’d never stopped to question that her dream was not God’s dream? Had she misread God’s will for them seven years ago? And if so, how could she understand it now? Were her desires and motivations pushing her off the course God had designed?
“You’re quiet, Gin.” Tucker sat sipping the last of his coffee while they waited for her father to return to the table. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Tired, I guess. Wondering.”
“About what?” He set the cup down, his attention firmly centered on her.
Ginny took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn’t the place, maybe it wasn’t the time. But she was going to say it anyway. She was tired of fighting her doubts alone.
“About the past. About the future. About God’s will for me.”
“I thought you had that all mapped out.” He frowned at her. “Don’t you?”
“Tucker, I’m no different than you.” Ginny couldn’t help smiling. “I’m curious about why things happen. I’d like to know when my prayers will be answered, what’s in the future.” She suppressed the tremble in her voice. “I guess I’m feeling a little anticlimactic today.”
“No, that isn’t it.” He seemed to sense her uncertainty and reached out to cover her hands with his. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m wondering if I’ve been doing the things I’ve been doing with the wrong motives.” She could see that he didn’t understand. “For instance—did I stay in Jubilee Junction with Dad because it was my duty or because I loved him?”
Tucker snorted. “Because you loved him and wanted to help, of course.” He said it as if there were no other possible answer.
“I’m not so sure. I could have gone to college, Tuck. Dad would have managed. He’d even have cheered me on. Why didn’t I take the chance, step out in faith?” She tried to remember what had gone into that decision. “After the first year, once we got into a routine, I didn’t have to be there. Someone else could have done what I did.”
Tucker shook his head, his eyes glowing with admiration. “I doubt that, Gin. I don’t think anyone could ever do what you do.”
She smiled, loving him more now than she ever had. Tucker, who battled his own problems, was so certain of her faith. Why wasn’t she? Why was she suddenly doubting what she’d trusted in for so long?
“That’s a nice thing to say, but it’s not true. Dad could have trained anyone. Was I so naive that I thought I was the only one who could be there for him?” She hesitated, then spoke from her heart. “If I’d gone, Dad might have found someone else to love.”
She glanced at her father, who stood several tables away, talking to a friend he’d known for years.
“Now I wonder if my staying was simply a selfish response, a way to avoid plunging into a world I knew nothing about, a world in which I could fail. Maybe I took the easy way out.”
Tucker would be leaving soon, moving on to another job, another country, another tragedy. She would lose him again, and the knowledge ate at her. If only she hadn’t stayed behind seven years ago. If only she’d pursued her dream with him.
“You listen to me, Ginny Brown.” He tilted her chin so he could look directly into her eyes. “You stayed in the Junction because you trusted me to keep my word. That was your biggest mistake, but trusting me was the only one you made. It’s one I can’t ever make up for. You wasted seven years on me and you’ll never get them back.”
“No, I—”
One finger pressed against her lips.
“But you never wasted your time in Jubilee, not one single moment. You didn’t stay because you were selfish, or scared, or because you wanted your own way. You stayed because you saw a need and you had to fill it. That’s who you are. That’s what you are.”
“Is it?” She smiled through the tears that filled her eyes. “Maybe yo
u don’t know me as well as you think, Tucker.”
“I know you better than you know yourself. Do you think I’m not aware of your feelings? Do you honestly believe that I don’t know you’d like us to be what we were before?” He brushed a tear from her cheek, his voice throbbing with emotion. “I know it, Gin. I knew it from the start, just as I knew you’d put your own needs on hold if you thought there was a chance of helping me out of my mental dungeon. I was even so bad off, I counted on it.”
“But you don’t feel that way?” Would hope never die?
Tucker shook his head firmly, without hesitation.
“No. I can’t. I won’t put you through that again.” He tried to soften his words. “I’m not the kind of man you need, Ginny. I’m a traveler. I traipse across the world in pursuit of a story, endangering myself, my friends, everyone, for the sake of fame and fortune.” His lips turned down. “As a husband, I’m a write-off, Gin. You can do a lot better.”
“Then what you’re really saying is that coming here, to me, hasn’t helped you at all.” She risked a glance at him, her eyes welling with tears at the agreement she found. “And that’s exactly what I meant. I’m only kidding myself by pretending I’m doing any good here.”
The truth smacked her between the eyes. She’d said the words in her prayers, pretending she was leaving it all up to God, but her heart still clung to a dream—one where Tucker loved her. A silly, stupid, childish, happily-ever-after dream.
“Why do you say that? Because you can’t make my nightmare go away?” He smiled, but the smile was sad, full of yearning. “You’re only human, Gin. You can’t control everyone and everything. You can’t always make it better, though you’ve tried harder than most.”
“Coming back here, talking, it hasn’t helped you at all?” She desperately needed to know the answer.
“I don’t have any answers, no. And I still have a lot of questions.”
It was only when he pulled his hand away that Ginny realized how tightly she’d clung to it. He leaned back in his chair, his face rueful, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table.
“I feel like I’m marking time. There’s nothing I’d like more than to hightail it out of here, put an end to this waiting. I want to figure things out and get on with my life. But I can’t. Something you said got to me, made me think that if God is really in control, there had to be a reason for Quint’s death.” He sighed. “I’m afraid to move on until I figure out what that reason was. Then maybe I won’t make the same mistake again.”
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