by Mae Nunn
Confused, she waited for him to explain.
“As hard as it may be to believe, outside of my mother and Faith, I don’t have a lot of experience with women.”
Jessica snorted disgust and pulled away. He realized she was thinking of Amelia. He captured both of her hands and turned her to face him.
“Hear me out, please.”
She stilled, staring intently into his eyes.
“Most of my adult life was spent in the military. I went from one training environment to another and very few of them included women. And even if they did, most of my training involved dangerous endurance situations. When the bottom line is literally survival, there’s not much opportunity to develop intimate relationships. At least, that’s the way it was for me. You have to be selfish on some level just to get through each day.”
“But you’re not a selfish person,” she insisted.
“Thank you,” he said. “I like to think that’s true. But even in a situation where you’re completely committed to a team, you are also responsible for yourself and your own survival. The success of the mission depends upon each person’s desire to get into the target area, stay alive while you accomplish the goal and get back out. As I said, it takes a certain amount of selfishness to get you through it all.”
“But what did you mean about selfish ignorance?”
“Well, I’m certainly not proud of it, but I still get very focused on myself and my own survival. I tend to look at every situation in terms of how I can control the outcome. Unfortunately, I don’t always take others into consideration when I do that and I make decisions ignorantly unaware of people’s feelings. When my family calls me a control freak, it is not a compliment.”
Jessica smiled tenderly at the revelation. “You are a bit of a control freak, but you’re not selfish.” She shook her head. “You’re not, Andrew. A selfish man wouldn’t spend time analyzing his own behavior and worrying how it affects the people who love him.”
His pulse quickened at her mention of love.
“And I’ve noticed you occasionally lighten up a bit,” she teased.
“It’s not happening very fast,” he admitted, “but I’m learning a little more each day that giving God dominion over my life means going with the flow and letting Him work things out.”
Drew squeezed her fingers. “Jess, from the beginning I was so wrong about you. I expected you to conform automatically to my expectations so I could manage the outcome. That was terribly unfair and I don’t blame you for misjudging me when I came on like Rambo.”
“Let me ask you something,” she said softly.
Still holding her hands in his, he nodded agreement.
“Why do you think you have to manage the outcome of things?”
“Because an uncontrolled outcome can mean failure. I understand what’s expected of me and failure is never an option.”
“Do you feel like your mission to get back with Amelia was a failure?”
“No,” he said emphatically. “That plan was flawed from the outset, because it was my plan. It just took me a while to realize it. It may take longer, but I trust God to show me another way to reach my goals. He’s going to do amazing things in my life.”
“I envy your confidence. I want to learn to trust God like you do.”
“I don’t know any other way. I was a lot like you until a few years ago. I did everything on my own, fiercely independent, never completely relying on anyone else. And then one day I was so overwhelmed by the challenges in my life, I knew I wouldn’t survive unless I let go and gave myself over to His will. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And the smartest.”
They were silent while she considered what he’d said.
“Would you mind if we get out of the car now?” she asked. “I’d like to stretch my legs and I have some people I want you to meet.”
Sorry to see the intense honesty of the moment end, he shifted away and climbed out of the car.
Jessica met him as he came around the front fender and surprised him by boldly reaching out and sliding her hands around his midsection. Standing tall and laying her cheek against his chest, she stilled as if listening to his erratic heartbeat.
His heart swelled with unspoken love as he enjoyed the wonder of having her embrace him for the first time. Several long moments later, she tilted her face up, a small smile on her lips and a shiny mist in her eyes.
“What do you say we go inside?” she suggested.
Jessica took the lead and Drew followed her down the path toward the Helping Hands Gallery.
As they waited patiently in line to enter the old barn, she explained.
“I met Gail Tinker at a craft warehouse. She was buying supplies for her students. I questioned one of the clerks about pottery paint. Gail overheard me, made a few suggestions and we struck up a conversation. I thought of her as soon as I got the Shure wedding contract.”
“So she made all the pots you used for that project?”
“Not exactly. Gail’s work is incredible and you’ll see it in the gallery. But her students specialize in the mosaic pots.”
The line moved. They left the bright sunshine behind, stepping into the gallery’s shady entry. Jessica watched Drew’s face as his eyes adjusted to the light. As expected, his interest soon changed from mild to intense.
The Sunday-afternoon class was in full swing. Students sat around low worktables, concentrating on their art. The unmistakably trusting eyes of Down’s syndrome kids glowed with pride and achievement. In other faces Drew saw the childlike openness he loved in his baby sister.
Family members helped and cheered every accomplishment. Gail Tinker introduced her special students and then invited the guests into her gallery.
“This is where you brought Faith.” A look of understanding dawned.
“That’s right. I wondered if you’d ever made the connection between her pot and the ones I used for the wedding.”
He studied the students. “All these people are…”
“Disabled.” She finished his statement. “In addition to her incredible talent as an artist, Gail has a degree in adult psychology. She specializes in working with the mentally challenged.”
“So this is a form of therapy?”
“In a way.” She glanced at the whimsical surroundings.
The walls were covered with hand-painted fruit trees, heavy with fuzzy peaches and glistening apples. The barn’s high ceiling was painted vibrant shades of sapphire, with dazzling comets and sparkling stars streaking across the pretend sky.
“Mostly Gail enjoys teaching them to be creative and independent. Designing the pots involves making their own choices. The result is something unique, entirely their own.”
Drew’s misty eyes registered his approval.
“So they leave with a sense of accomplishment.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “Just like Faith did.”
Drew gestured toward the supply shelves. “Who pays for all this?”
“Until now, Gail funded it with the sales from her gallery. But with the economy slow, sales are down. She had to have some visibility, so I agreed to use her pots at the Shure wedding. Hopefully we’ll draw attention and donations for Helping Hands.”
Drew caught her waist and pulled her close, whispering into her hair, “Jessica Holliday, you’re an incredible woman. You jeopardized your own success to help a friend.”
She looked into the dark eyes. “It was for a very good cause. Everything I valued was already on the line, since I followed your advice and took that leap of faith.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t afford to pay for the plants up front, so I used my home as collateral.”
“You risked your place at Sacred Arms on the project?” He sounded incredulous.
“I knew there was no risk involved. I was investing in myself, in my future. Now I know God really was in control.”
“A prudent choice for a wise businesswoman.” Drew pressed a kis
s to her forehead. “Is there any chance you’d be willing to sell stock in your new venture?”
“We’ll discuss taking my company public another time.” She slipped reluctantly out of his embrace, shyly took his hand and led him toward the art exhibit.
Drew’s sides literally ached from an evening of laughter. He couldn’t remember another day in his adult life when he’d been so carefree.
The decision to end things with Amelia had been a weight off his shoulders. It simply wasn’t ordained.
Too many years had passed. The high-spirited, demanding girl had grown into an arrogant woman. Her teenage vanity had become full-blown narcissism. And worse, Amelia had so little empathy for others. For her sake, he hoped that she didn’t learn about compassion the hard way.
Learning the hard way. Boy, did he know about that.
Once he’d understood the value of experienced guidance, he’d followed it faithfully. The person he trusted most on earth was Marcus Keegan. Drew had never set a course in direct opposition to his father.
Until now.
Drew punched in the security code and held the door for Jessica.
“Could I interest you in a chocolate chip cookie?”
She shook her head, eyes sparkling under the soft overhead lights of the darkened hallway. “After that delicious pasta, I couldn’t. I actually lost a few pounds this past week, and now that I’ve made progress, I’m determined to stick with it. I’ll never be a six again, but size ten might be nice.”
“Congratulations.” He beamed approval. “Let’s celebrate with a diet cola.”
“Drew, it’s really late, and I’m exhausted.” She rested her hand on his chest. “It’s been a magical day.”
“Yes, it has,” he whispered. “And I’m not ready for the magic to end. Please stay with me for a while longer.”
Giving in, Jessica turned and crossed the threshold.
Track lights positioned above his sound system sprang to life at the flick of a switch, illuminating the collection of CDs. “What would you like to hear?” He bent to study the selection.
“You choose. I’ll pour the soda.” Jessica appeared right at home in the kitchen that was exactly like hers. Only neater. As she returned with two glasses, the room filled with soft music.
Taking Jessica by surprise, Drew grasped her by the waist and swept her into a perfect three-step turn. She expertly followed his lead even as a giggle bubbled to the surface. The drinks forgotten, he pulled her close and captured her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dumped ice-cold soda down his back.
Chapter Fifteen
Drew gasped and shuddered as the cold liquid soaked through his shirt and dribbled down his spine.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica apologized. She grabbed a dishcloth and stooped to mop up the spill.
“It’s my fault for not being able to keep my hands off you,” he teased. “I have towels and clean T-shirts folded on top of the dryer.” He tugged the hem of his shirt free, whisked it off and headed for the laundry room.
Jessica’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Drew, his back to her, toss his shirt on top of the washer and reach for his fresh laundry.
“My goodness, Drew! What happened?” she asked, pointing to fading scars on his spine and ribs. She knew from experience the damage must have been substantial.
Drew turned and glanced down at his chest, also marked with scar tissue. “Oh, that?” He waved it off nonchalantly. “Cut myself shaving.”
“This is no time to joke. Come here and talk to me.” She sank onto his leather sofa and patted the seat next to her. “Those look several years older than mine.”
“That’s because it’s been several years since the accident.” He dragged a white shirt over his head and made himself comfortable beside her.
“You were in an accident?” Her voice rose. She took his hand and settled in to hear the story.
“I was part of an air assault team trained for crisis missions in Eastern Europe. We were practicing a HALO operation in the Italian Alps.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Halo? You mean like an angel’s halo?”
He smiled at the common question. “No. HALO stands for high altitude, low opening.”
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I’ve never heard the term.”
“That’s okay—most people have no idea it’s possible, much less commonplace. A SEAL team pioneered the operation years ago and I’ve done it hundreds of times.” He raked his hand through his hair.
“A transport plane dropped me from forty thousand feet. You wear a thermal suit and mask along with an oxygen bottle. At that altitude the temperature is subzero and it’s common for your goggles to shatter and your eyes to freeze shut. But the greatest danger is from hypoxia, or lack of oxygen. A man can lose consciousness in an instant, so there’s a pressure-activated rip cord to pop the chute if you don’t.”
Her eyes flew open with disbelief and he hurried on.
“At close to three hundred miles an hour, you free-fall for a minute or so below radar cover before deploying the parachute. Since my team members were weapons experts, we each carried pieces of a portable tactical nuclear device that could be reassembled and armed very quickly on the ground.”
“A portable what?” Her eyebrows scrunched together.
“A twenty-five megaton bomb.”
Jessica’s expressive face began to register the incredulous look he’d come to anticipate when describing HALO operations.
“You’re not serious,” she insisted, leaning closer, studying him for signs of teasing. “You are serious. Is that how you got hurt? Setting off a bomb?” Her green eyes got wider by the moment.
“I never got that far.” He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out loudly. “At one thousand feet the chute automatically deploys. A charge fires into the canopy, to blast it open immediately, so you’ll decelerate in time to survive the landing.”
Drew would never forget the absolute terror of the moment.
“Something went wrong. The charge never fired. My chute slowed me, but not nearly enough. I hit the ground at sixty miles an hour.”
Jessica grimaced and shifted on the cushion. She sat facing him, cross-legged, her knees pressed against his thigh.
“Drew, it’s a miracle you’re alive.”
“It was one of many miracles God performed that day,” he assured her. “I was thrown off target, so I fell on an incline instead of flat ground. I glanced off the frozen mountainside and rolled downhill. That’s the only thing that saved me from being crushed.”
Her hand slid to his shoulder where she gently stroked the back of his neck. He smiled his gratitude for the comforting touch and patted her hand.
“How badly were you hurt?” From the knowing expression in her eyes, the light of understanding was dawning.
“Well, let’s see.” He ticked off the injuries matter-of-factly. “My neck was broken, my spine was ruptured in several places, the left femur was shattered and my right kneecap had been completely ripped off. My lung was punctured and I can’t remember how many ribs were broken. Throw in a nasty head gash and it’s no wonder I was temporarily blind and had a ruptured eardrum.” He smiled sheepishly. “Hence the loud music.”
“You say you were in the Italian Alps when this happened.” She kept shaking her head, amazed.
“That’s another miracle. My team, God bless those guys, managed to find me within two hours. Otherwise, I’d have died from exposure.” He hurried through the rest of the story. “I really don’t remember much about my hospitalization in Europe. It took weeks to stabilize me enough to move me back to the States. I had surgery at Walter Reed so many times I lost count. I spent months in sweaty, itchy body casts.” He shuddered at the thought. “That was a picnic compared to the physical therapy.”
“Please stop.” Jessica held up a hand, fingers spread wide. “Knowing you endured all that is too much to handle in one sitting.”
He grasped her hand,
cupping it warmly.
“I understand that it’s hard for you to hear. But believe it or not, that accident was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
She glared at him as if he’d just sprouted a third eye.
“How can you say that?”
“Because the agony of recovery and the bitterness over losing my career were more than I could bear on my own. One late night, alone in the hospital room, I just didn’t want to go on. I gave my life and my pain to Christ. I pleaded with Him to heal my body and spirit or end my suffering. And I promised, at that moment, that either way, He would be in control.”
“I feel like such a selfish wimp for crying about my injury after what you’ve been through.”
“Don’t. I cried loud and long. Many times.”
“Did you ever consider counseling?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding? I must have spent a thousand hours on the couch. The counseling brought on the crying. It’s amazing how much progress everyone thinks you’re making once you completely fall apart.”
He scrunched his dark eyebrows at the memory.
“That’s when I refused to let my father demand an investigation into the accident. I’ve accepted any responsibility that I may have for what happened. I’d packed my own equipment just like I’d done hundreds of times before. Maybe I was distracted. Maybe I did something differently. I don’t know, and I’m not going to waste any more time trying to figure it out, because it won’t change things.”
She envied the glow of peace in Drew’s eyes. She wondered how long it would be before she, too, could accept the way she’d been judged, always afraid that somehow she might have been even remotely responsible for the death of another human being.
“The more I get to know you, the more amazed I am that we have so much in common.”
He leaned back, studying her face, his large hand trailing down her hair to her shoulder and arm.
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I was afraid you might not realize it.”
She shivered at his light touch and buffed her palms over her forearms against the momentary chill.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”