Paul nodded, and as the surgeon retreated through the doorway, Paul steered them toward the exit. “We have at least an hour, so let’s go for coffee and, maybe, a little dessert. Then we’ll come back and wait.”
They agreed, and when they were settled in the cafeteria, the women sipped coffee while Paul ate a piece of pie. They spoke about the Christmas holiday, anything to keep their minds off their worries.
But Jane’s mind overflowed with the stress of her past weeks. Unbidden, she released a troubled sigh. “I feel so lost without Kyle. He’s the one I turn to.”
“Don’t forget the Lord,” Paul said, knitting his fingers together on the table.
Reality coursed through her. She’d let the Lord fade from her life, and now, letting God back in was a struggle. How long had she leaned on herself rather than God? And where had it gotten her? Nowhere. Only more hurt and heartache.
“You’ve both been so kind to me.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Ruth said. “You’ve been a blessing to us.”
Jane’s eyes pooled with tears. Ruth was a true pastor’s wife—gentle, compassionate, and always supporting her husband. How could Jane ever support Kyle’s career in that way? Today was a prime example of a future with him. Fear. Loneliness. Yet she loved him too much to let him go. The paradox was mind-boggling.
Paul studied her face. “You love Kyle, don’t you?”
His question hit her like a punch in the solar plexis. Yes. She did, but it was so much more complex than a plain “yes.” The words wouldn’t come, but she nodded.
She stared at the cup in front of her, studied the greasy glaze shining from the too-strong coffee.
“You see your father’s career in Kyle’s. Is that right?” Paul asked.
She nodded.
“Faith, Jane. That’s what we all need. Good strong faith. I speak for myself…and Ruth. We need to put those fears in God’s hands.”
He was right. Unable to speak, Jane prayed, and when she had calmed, she glanced at her wristwatch.
Giving her hand a pat, Paul rose. “Time to get back.”
Jane nodded, wishing she could tell him more.
Paul helped Ruth, then Jane, from their chairs.
Standing beside him, Jane imagined how Kyle would look years from now. Handsome, strong, with little wisps of gray in his trim brown hair. She stretched on tiptoe and kissed Paul’s cheek while her heart stretched toward heaven.
When they returned to the waiting room, Kyle’s nurse was just leaving. “No more than two at a time,” she said. “And please keep your visits short for today. He’s still groggy and needs rest.”
She motioned for them to follow, but Jane held back indicating that they should go first. Paul looked at her with questioning eyes, but Jane insisted.
When they were gone, she slumped into the nearest chair and bowed her head, praying for Kyle’s recovery, and in the waiting silence, she prayed she might learn to put all her cares in God’s hands.
As she sorted her wavering thoughts, Paul came to the door and beckoned. He guided her down the hall, then left her with Ruth.
Jane hesitated in the doorway, surveying the room with relief—only one IV bottle and a single monitor blipping Kyle’s vital signs. No other fearful, high-powered machines loaded with bells and whistles stood beside Kyle’s bed.
Ruth’s strained face had relaxed, and she motioned for Jane to join her. At the foot of the bed, Jane ached, seeing Kyle still and silent. His eyes were closed, his shoulder bound with thick, gauzy cloth and heavy tape.
“He’s still sleeping,” Ruth whispered, but as she spoke, his eyelids flickered, then closed again. Ruth’s face brightened, and she leaned down and kissed his forehead. His lids fluttered again, and Jane heard an incoherent murmur.
“He called me Mom,” Ruth said, her face glowing. “Come closer, Jane. Talk to him.”
Jane moved to Kyle’s side, slid her palm over his still hand, then bent closer to his ear. “Hey, Redmond’s finest,” she murmured. “How are you doing?”
His hand shifted, and his lids flickered open again. “Hi, Jackson’s finest,” he muttered, his voice thick.
Her heart skipped, and despite Ruth watching, she placed a gentle kiss on his parched lips.
He struggled to focus, and beneath her hand, one of his fingers caught hers. His mouth formed soundless words, but she read the beautiful message on his lips. “I love you.”
Thin rivulets of tears rolled down her cheeks. With her free hand, she brushed them away. “Kyle, I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.” Finally she’d said the words. Three small words. One mammoth commitment.
An escaped tear dripped from her chin and dropped to Kyle’s hand. “I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered.
“You’re going to be fine, Kyle. Now, you need to rest,” Jane said. “I’ll let your dad come back, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He gave her an indistinct nod, and she pressed his hand a final time before letting go.
Paul insisted she wait, and after their parting with Kyle, he and Ruth walked with her to the parking lot. After saying good night, she opened her car door and slid inside, then gasped, noticing the paper caught beneath the passenger windshield wiper.
Her stomach cramped as a wave of nausea rolled through her. Peering into the darkness, she scanned the parking lot. Terror tore at her confidence. She didn’t want to look. If she turned on the wipers, she could let it fly away into the winter wind, the message unread.
The Mannings’ car vanished into the night, and Jane, watching it go, felt empty and alone. Fear dueled with anger, lashing her to the seat cushion. Fighting her panic, she slid from the car, yanked the note from the wiper and darted to safety, plunging down the door locks.
She turned on the ignition and, in the dashboard’s glow, unfolded the paper. The note confirmed her worst fear. Her earlier scare had been no accident.
Look! Look! Look! See Jane skid.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Jane went to the hospital early, but Paul was already there, sitting at Kyle’s side, reading the Bible while his son slept.
He rose and pulled another chair beside his. They talked softly and waited. Jane longed to tell Paul about her frightening experience. But telling anyone seemed useless, and if Kyle overheard, he would only be more frustrated. She swallowed her desire. She’d tell him after he was well.
Kyle moaned faintly, then opened his eyes.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Am I in heaven?” he asked, his voice stronger. “I see an angel.” He grinned.
His smile filled her. He still loved her. As if God touched her, she sensed things would be all right.
His father laughed. “Heaven on earth, maybe. You feeling better?”
“I’m hungry.”
Jane’s spirit lifted. Hunger was a good sign. She rolled his tray of uneaten breakfast to his bed, lifted the lids and returned to the chair.
Kyle delved into the food. “Have you been here all night?” he asked. He caught a stray piece of cold toast with his napkin.
Paul laughed. “We walked her to the parking lot last night and forced her to leave.”
“That true?” Kyle asked.
Jane nodded, her pulse skipping when she thought of the parking lot.
He stretched his arm toward her. “A long, boring evening.”
“Long, but not boring. Your dad gave me something to think about,” Jane said, taking his hand and moving to his side.
“Is that good or bad?” Kyle said, giving her a tired grin.
“Good,” she said. “You know how I’ve felt about my dad.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand.
“Jane,” Paul said, his face strained, “I’ve been thinking and, well, maybe…I can help you more than I have. I, eh, know a lot of things about your dad.”
She jerked her head toward him. “I don’t understand,” she said, controlling her panic.
“It’s a long, tro
ubling story, but your dad and I knew each other more than just those committees I mentioned before. I don’t have to protect anyone any longer…I don’t think. Tell me what’s really bothering you, Jane.”
After so many years, how could she explain her true feelings? She wasn’t sure she knew what they were. She’d lived in distorted recollections and guilty memories so long, her reality and fantasy had tangled. She sorted her thoughts. “I suppose the worst were the rumors and threats.”
“You heard rumors?” Paul asked, his brows knitting. “And you were threatened?
She nodded. “Rumors that Dad was mixed up in the rackets. I was ashamed to think my dad was a crooked cop, but when he was killed, I was sure they were true.”
Paul’s face contorted, sending a haunting feeling skittering through Jane.
“But they weren’t true,” Paul said. “I know.”
Jane’s head snapped upward. She peered at him, waiting to hear anything that might help her understand.
Kyle squeezed Jane’s hand. “Explain, Dad.”
“Your father let the rumors live, trying to protect someone.”
Her pulse coursed through her veins. “He what?”
“He took the heat off someone else…or tried to.”
Kyle nodded knowingly, but Jane searched Paul’s face, not understanding.
“That’s the long story I mentioned.”
Jane eyed Kyle, then Paul. “I’d like to know….”
Paul drew in a lengthy breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded. “A man walked into the church one day years ago and asked if we could talk. He was involved in the rackets—drugs and money laundering. He wanted out. But he was scared to death.”
Kyle scowled. “A church member?”
“No. I never saw him before.”
“Why did he come to you?” Jane asked.
“No idea. He may have lived in the area. Who knows? I contacted the police and worked out a deal for him. It was your dad who came to the church.”
The story rolled through her. “You mean the man confessed to my dad?”
“Ratted is what they call it,” Kyle said.
Paul nodded. “They promised him immunity for information. The vice squad wanted the big guys. You know, the kingpins.”
Jane drank in the story, facts she wished she’d heard years earlier. “And did they get the…kingpins?”
“Some of them. Eventually.”
Her heart tripped. “But the rumors…about my father?”
“When the police got busy, the journalists got nosy, pressing for the name of the stoolie. Your dad took the brunt of their guessing game. They knew he was involved somehow.”
Jane’s hands trembled in Kyle’s. For the first time, she understood. “So the police made up a story?”
“Yes. If they didn’t have a stoolie, then they needed a crooked cop. Redmond had some, I’m sure, but not your dad.” He stared directly into her eyes. “Do you understand?”
Jane nodded.
“But your father didn’t deny it. It would have put the informant in danger…or me, Jane. He kept his mouth shut.”
“Is that why my dad was shot?” she asked.
“I can only guess. I think there was a connection.”
Agony seemed to fill his face, and he caved against the chair back. Though Jane wanted to stop, she needed to hear the truth.
With a heavy sigh, Paul continued. “Your dad knew too much for his own good. It was too late for the mob to shut him up. But they could get even.”
Blood hummed in her ears. She caught her breath. “Like a vendetta?”
“That’s what I think,” Paul said.
“Sure sounds like it,” Kyle agreed.
Guilt and sorrow surfaced on Paul’s strained face.
“And they never knew about you?” Jane asked.
Fidgeting, he closed his eyes for a moment, then pressed his hands together in fists and shook his head.
“God is good,” Jane said. “I’m grateful.” She slid her hand over his knotted fingers. “What about the other guy? The informant?”
“Dead.”
“They killed him, too?” Jane understood the hidden sorrow Paul had carried for so many years and wished she hadn’t riled the stagnant waters of his memories.
“But not before the department had all the facts they needed,” Paul said.
“I’m sorry I made you remember it all. I had no idea.”
“If it helps you, then it’s worth it,” he said.
The reality of his words rose around her like ice on her sprain. Slowly the cooling impact of his words soothed and comforted her. “My dad was innocent.”
Paul touched her arm. “He was a good cop, Jane.”
“His only sin was a bad temper,” she whispered.
A faint look of amusement flickered on Paul’s face. “Well, I wouldn’t know about the only sin. But I imagine he was a regular sinner like all of us.”
She nodded, squeezing her eyes together to control the sobs that lay like a knot in her throat.
“You’re a good woman,” he added. “You’ve been punishing yourself for what you thought were your dad’s sins.”
She looked at him through a blur of tears. “I have, I guess.”
“The Bible says something that I wish you’d recalled years ago. ‘Fathers shall not be put to death for their children, nor children put to death for their fathers; each is to die for his own sin.’ You remember that now.”
“I will.”
“That’s good,” he said.
Kyle released a heavy sigh. “Does Mom know about this?”
“She sure does,” his father said. “I never keep anything from your mother.”
Jane listened, lost in thought. Her father was a hero, and she’d believed all those years he’d been a bad cop. The news washed over her like a balm. Her dad had still been an angry man, too vile at times and too quick to rant at her mother, but now the knowledge added a new spin to the story. It had taken the edge off, softened it as if the bright interrogation lights were dimmed. Now, for the first time, Jane saw a human being beneath the burning glare—her father.
And Paul was right. In judging her father, she had also judged herself. She had tried to bear his sins, as well as her guilt, and they had weighted her down. Her vision turned to the church window, the picture of the wounded Christ bearing the sins of the world, and she wished she’d given her weighty load to the Lord long ago.
On New Year’s Eve day, Kyle stretched out on his parents’ sofa, dressed in sweatpants and shirt. Using wisdom, he’d agreed to spend a few days with them, recuperating. He was frustrated, though, and anxious for some privacy with Jane. He longed to know if the new information about her father would make a difference.
When his mother opened the door, he heard Jane’s voice. She bounded into the living room, and he was glad when his mother made an excuse, leaving them alone.
Kyle sat up, eased his left shoulder into the sofa corner and reached for Jane with his right arm. She rushed into his embrace.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, nuzzling his chin against her soft, fragrant hair. “Never thought a woman could wrap me around her tiny finger, but you have.”
“Kyle, I’m sorry. I have no excuse and nothing to say, except I love you, and I beg you to forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, Jane. I forgave you the moment I walked out the door. I just waited for you to tell me to come home.”
“Come home,” she said, tears wetting her lashes.
He caressed her smooth cheek, then let his kisses trail from her forehead to her nose, kissed the dampness from her eyes and ended where he longed to be—her lips.
The kiss sent a trail of longing down his limbs. Yet, against his wishes, a new awareness surged. She had spoken the words he’d wanted to hear—I love you. But with his fears, could he handle her love?
His eyes lingered over each detail of her face until, filled with desire, he lowered his mouth to he
rs, deepening the kiss.
He felt her excitement, yielding to his touch.
With a final caress, Kyle released her and said the words on his mind. “Before I met you, I prayed each time I went to work that I’d come home in one piece. Now I have someone to come home for, and life seems too precious. I’m…not sure I want to put you through these fears every day.”
The thought of losing her reared in his mind, and he pressed her torso against his right shoulder, holding her as if she might vanish if he let her go.
“I don’t have answers, Kyle, but I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ll accept anything you decide to do with your life—our life.” She ran her hand along his jaw, raising one finger and pressing it against his lips. “Please don’t say anything. Not now.”
She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and he felt his muscles flex with her touch. He wanted her more than he could say, but how? How could he resolve the fears that tore at him. His badge stood between them. His parents’ pleading faces filled his mind. Would he see the same frightened look in Jane’s?
Though she’d learned more about her father—about the past that hurt her so deeply—Kyle faced the truth. He could only offer her the same life. Without the violence, maybe, but the same day-in and day-out danger, never knowing when or where he might be gunned down.
He winced at his throbbing wound beneath the thick bandage. He released his grip on Jane, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders.
Her face echoed the same mixed emotions he felt. Fear, longing, desperation.
She lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. “In the past months, I’ve felt more complete with you than I have my entire life.”
The feeling was his own. Kyle brushed his lips against her ear, pushing away the worry that nagged at him. He hoped that prayer and time would give him insight. “You nabbed my heart the first day I saw you…and without reading me my rights.”
“You have no rights when it comes to me.”
He caught hold of her teasing, and let it pull him from his worries. “I’m just a prisoner of love.”
A Love for Safekeeping Page 18