“The two are inseparable,” Laura had told him that night. “Serving and loving God? One and the same.”
The more they talked, the more Brad knew for certain. He could never settle for being Laura’s friend. She was beautiful and bright, and an easy conversationalist. She told him about burning a pan of broccoli the past weekend and nearly catching her parents’ house on fire.
“I can’t imagine the guy who gets stuck with me.” She tilted her head back and laughed with a full heart. “I mean, seriously. I can’t cook at all.”
But Brad was thinking the opposite. How lucky any guy would be to win her over. They started slowly, and for the rest of the summer Brad reminded her often that he wasn’t interested. They attended church together, and by the time the holidays came that fall, Brad took her for a walk through Central Park. They stopped at the bridge and sat on one of the stone benches.
“I have a confession.” He looked into her eyes without wavering, without blinking. From the sound of his voice she would’ve thought he was admitting something deep and dark, for sure.
Her smile faded. “Whatever it is … you can tell me.”
“I know.” He swallowed hard and took her hands in his. “I lied to you, Laura. I can’t go on — not another day — without telling you the truth.”
By then they were spending nearly every day together, and twice he’d had dinner with she and her parents on their regular visits in from New Jersey. As friends went, they were inseparable. In that moment, though, Laura’s eyes clouded with concern, and her hands felt cooler than before. Her voice dropped a level. “Tell me.”
He kept his face serious, his tone dire. “I told you … I love brunettes … but I don’t.”
Like other times when he teased her, her reaction took a moment. But gradually her eyes took on a knowing look, and then the shine of laughter familiar between them. “Really? So, let me guess. Redheads, Brad? That what you’re looking for?”
“If that’s God’s will for my life, then yes. Hair color doesn’t matter.” He mustered up a pious look. “But the truth is … I’m crazy about blondes, Laura. Just crazy about’em.”
“So you’re not looking for a friend, is that it?” She was teasing him, playing along.
“At this point,” Brad looked at her with as much sincerity as he felt in his heart, “I’d be honored to be your friend. But you should know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m in love with you, Laura James. Completely and totally in love.”
She blushed and laughed in response, changing the subject and spending the rest of the next few hours walking with him through the park. But the day was a turning point for both of them. A month later after dinner and another long walk, he took her back to her parents’ house and a few feet away from the front steps he put his hands tenderly on either side of her face. “Can I kiss you good night?” He didn’t want to push things, but he wanted her to know his intentions.
“I’ve only kissed one time,” she told him. “My high school boyfriend. But he wasn’t okay with just kissing. We broke up over it.” She looked intently at him. “What about you?”
Brad was genuinely nervous. He’d been this route before and he wasn’t proud of it. But he wasn’t the person he’d been in high school. “We don’t have to kiss.” He brushed his thumb against her soft cheek. “I don’t ever want you to feel forced. Staying away from all that means as much to me as it does to you. God won’t bless what we’ve started unless we put Him first.”
She paused, staring at him. “Really?”
“Yes.” He assumed she wasn’t ready for him to kiss her, and he was at peace with that. But as he reached for her fingers and started to lead her up the stairs, the look in her eyes changed. She gave a slight pull of his hand and he returned easily to his spot closer to her. “Then maybe you should kiss me good night,” she whispered.
Slowly and with the greatest restraint, Brad searched her eyes, making sure she was okay with what was about to happen. Then he moved gradually closer and for the sweetest few seconds he kissed her. When they pulled away, she said something that stayed with him still. “Who would’ve known you were just like me? About the whole physical thing?”
Pictures from the past lifted, fragmenting into so many red taillights ahead of him. Brad gritted his teeth and wished for a way back. He should’ve told her then, right then while the time was right. He hadn’t meant to, but clearly he’d given her the impression he was a virgin. From that night on, she talked to him as if his virtue was intact, as if he, too, had only ever kissed his high school girlfriend.
Over time he tried on occasion to broach the subject, come clean about choices he’d made his senior year of high school. But he was an entirely different person from the guy he was back then, changed and reformed. Besides, the subject never came up. He and Laura rarely talked about their physical relationship, or the lack of it. He kissed her once in a while, after a particularly great night out or at the end of a meaningful talk. Then, after he proposed to her, they both teased about looking forward to the honeymoon and how wonderful marriage would be. But his past remained buried in the very deepest basement of his soul and he never figured out a way to talk about it.
By now he had convinced himself that the mistakes he’d made nearly a decade ago couldn’t possibly have an impact on his life today. He didn’t remember who he was back then. Also, it wasn’t like he’d told Laura he’d been pure all his life. She must suspect that maybe his past wasn’t as pristine as hers, right? Either way, his senior year of high school was forever ago. Another lifetime. Like what happened that year happened to someone altogether different. The person he no longer knew or understood. The guy he used to be.
Brad finished the drive home, parked in his garage, and took the elevator to the sixteenth floor. His flat wasn’t large or brand new, but the views were stunning. The place belonged to the ad agency, and Laura’s father let him lease it at a discount. He and Laura would begin their lives here.
He changed out of his dress clothes into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. The treadmill was calling his name. But rather than clear his mind, four miles later he was still wrestling with his past, wrestling with everything he had tried so hard to forget. So that when he finally stepped off he no longer felt like he was in a suite overlooking New York City, but rather walking a North Carolina shoreline he couldn’t forget no matter how hard he tried.
The shoreline of Holden Beach.
Five
MONDAY WAS HIGH SCHOOL VOLUNTEER DAY at Jefferson Elementary, and Emma looked forward to it every week. Not so much because she had help with the kids. Her students were never a problem. If anything, she liked when she had them to herself because the class was more focused. Emma looked forward to Mondays for one reason alone.
Kristin Palazzo.
Kristin, a junior at the nearby high school, drove to Jefferson every Monday despite the fact that she was very sick. Much like little Frankie in Emma’s class, Kristin lived with a disease, but hers was worse because it affected her heart. Her mother had told Emma early in the school year that Kristin’s doctors doubted she’d live to see the end of her senior year.
God hadn’t given Kristin any more fair a life than He had Frankie. When Kristin was ten years old, she came down with a simple pneumonia. But instead of getting better, her condition grew worse and Kristin had to be airlifted to the intensive care unit of the children’s hospital in Raleigh. Over the next few days she nearly died, and when she finally pulled through, it was with a debilitating case of myocarditis. Her damaged heart meant one thing for certain: Kristin needed a transplant, and she needed it soon.
At exactly 1:30, Kristin appeared at the door of her classroom, her big Nikon camera looped over her neck. She grinned at the kids and then at Emma. “One more day of pictures, and I should be ready!”
The kids giggled, and a few of them covered their mouths. This had been their ongoing delight with their teenage friend, Kristin. To
gether they were working on a year-long project that would finally be completed in the next week. It was their secret, and Emma didn’t dare ask questions or try to find out more about it than was already obvious. Because clearly the project involved photos.
Kristin seemed a little slower than usual as she set her camera down and flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder. A flock of kids surrounded her. “How’s everyone?”
“Can you read about Junie B. Jones and the pet day!” Frankie cried out. “Please, Kristin. Please!”
The other kids joined in, begging Kristin for a story. She touched their heads and put a finger to her lips. Emma watched, amazed. She would make a wonderful teacher someday … if she were given the chance to live long enough. One more time Emma wondered how she could raise awareness about heart transplants. Kristin needed one yesterday.
“Okay, okay,” the teenager laughed, and the sound rang through the classroom. She led the kids to the far corner, the one made up of bean bags and soft carpet squares. Over the next half hour she read them the story they asked for, laughing with them at the funny parts along the way.
When it was over, Frankie reached out and took hold of Kristin’s hand. “I like stories that make us laugh,” she grinned up at her. “Don’t you? Don’t you like those funny stories bestest of all?”
“I do!” She turned and looked to Emma. “Can I take them out for recess?”
Kristin was only with them an hour each Monday. Emma was quick to give her permission. “Absolutely. I’ll be right here.”
It was another sunny day, another afternoon that made kids crazy for summer. They had just eight more days of school, so only one more Monday with Kristin. Emma smiled as the kids followed the pretty teenager out onto the play yard. She was like Kristin once a lifetime ago, innocent and glowing with faith. If only she’d stayed that way. She stood and moved to the window for a quick look. The glare of sunlight on the yard made it impossible for the kids to see her, so she sat on the sill and watched.
With the patience and leadership of a mature college student, Kristin helped each of the boys and girls onto a swing, and then as they began pumping their way higher and higher, she snapped what looked like a dozen photos. Again Emma thought Kristin was moving more slowly than usual. Still, she managed to repeat the routine with each child, getting the boys and girls onto the swing, taking their pictures, and then helping them slow down and climb off the swing.
Finally, when she’d taken photos of every student in a swinging position, she rounded them up to return them to the classroom. If God was listening, why wasn’t Kristin getting better? With her parents, her church, and Frankie praying, Kristin had more support than anyone Emma knew.
Kristin brought the boys and girls inside and asked them to return to their desks. Then she looked at Emma, and her expression changed. “Can I talk to you?” she mouthed the words. Whatever was bothering her, it was considerable. Kristin never pulled Emma away from the kids during the school day.
Emma raised her hand and smiled at the children. “Let’s say good-bye to Kristin.”
“Bye Kristin … bye.” Their voices sang through the schoolroom.
“Okay, class. I’ll be in the hall for a minute. I’d like you to pull out your reading folder and go over your questions and answers one more time.”
The students did as she asked while Emma followed Kristin into the hall. Emma’s heart pounded, and suddenly she felt beyond nervous. Kristin never looked as serious as she did right now, so did that mean her condition was worse than before? Was her heart failure at another, more dangerous level? She folded her arms and stared at the girl. “Is … is everything okay?”
“No.” Kristin shifted her weight, struggling to make eye contact. She pulled a packet from her purse and held it up. “I need your help.” She handed the packet to Emma. “I’m applying to Liberty University, and … well, I need a letter of recommendation.”
Emma felt relief flood through her veins. If Kristin was looking at colleges, then she had to be doing better. Maybe they’d even located a heart for her. Emma took the packet and stared for a moment at the university logo on the front cover. “I’m happy to write you a letter.” She narrowed her eyes some. “That’s exciting … applying to college.”
Kristin allowed a half-smile. “My parents don’t think so. They … they want me to wait until I have a transplant.” She shrugged. “Or at least the prospect of one.”
“Oh.” Emma’s heart fell a little. “Where’s Liberty University?”
“It’s a Christian school in Virginia.” Light shone from Kristin’s eyes. “It’s only six hours away. Not a bad drive.” She sighed and her enthusiasm waned. “I guess I want to be ready to live. You know, if things work out with the transplant.”
“Well …” Emma felt tears pushing their way into the corners of her eyes. She blinked twice, resisting them. “I guess I can see both sides. Your parents just want you close by.”
“I know.” Kristin nodded at the packet. “There’s a form inside. You can fill it out.” Her smile returned. “I want to be a teacher. Like you.”
Emma fought her emotions. She put her hand on Kristin’s shoulder. “I have a feeling,” her eyes found a deeper place in Kristin’s soul, “you’ll be a very … very good teacher one day.”
Kristin beamed from the glow of the compliment. Impulsively she rushed forward and hugged Emma for a long time. “Thank you. I won’t forget that.”
Emma drew back and clutched the folder to her chest. “I’ll have this filled out for you next time you come.”
Kristin glanced back in the classroom and then at Emma. “You know what I wish?”
“What?” Emma could feel the tears again. She willed them away.
“I wish I could be you for just one day. Already grown up, my heart transplant behind me, and teaching a group of great kids like this.”
She waited until she could speak. Then she coughed a little. “Hold on … to that dream.”
Kristin hesitated, as if there was something else she wanted to say. But whatever it was, she seemed to change her mind. “I will.” She had her camera in one hand as she hugged Emma once more and waved good-bye. “See you next week.” She held up the camera and grinned. “We’ll have your gift by then. The class and I.”
The idea put a brighter smile on Kristin’s face than anything in the last few minutes. Emma watched her walk down the hall and out the double doors. Very few teenagers on the brink of summer would be more concerned with college applications and creating gifts for others than hanging out at the beach. Even with her weak heart, Kristin could’ve spent her time like most kids her age. But she wasn’t like most kids.
It was time for the students’ painting project, so Emma returned to her class. She handed out sets of paint, smocks, and colorful construction paper. All the while she couldn’t stop thinking about Kristin, her compassion and conviction, her desire to live life regardless of the odds. To make the tough choices in faith.
Emma certainly hadn’t been that type of teenager. She’d been faced with tough choices the summer after her junior year, but she’d … well, she’d taken the easy way out. At least it had felt that way at the time.
There was a tug on her arm and Emma blinked back the past. Frankie was standing there grinning, as if she were completely unaware of the trail of bruises on either of her arms. “Teacher, know what?”
“What, sweetie?” Emma turned so she was facing the child.
“See this?” Frankie held up her painting. The picture showed two girls, one tall with long brown hair, the other small, with short hair the same color. The older girl had something black around her neck and a big heart painted on her shirt. “It’s me and Kristin.” Frankie pointed to the black object. “That’s her camera, and next to it is her big heart.”
An ache grabbed at Emma. “Kristin definitely has a big heart.”
“My mommy says kind people always have a big heart. So that’s Kristin. It’s a ’prise for her
when she comes next Monday.” Frankie handed the drawing over. “You keep it for her, okay?”
“I will.” Emma opened her top desk drawer and slid the painting inside. “It’ll be safe here.”
Emma carried the image of Frankie’s picture with her as she left school and long after she was home and changed into her running gear. That and the conversation she’d had with Kristin. It was always like this midway through May. The end of the school year had a way of making her dread the emptiness of summer. The loss of all that might’ve been was never more painful than during May’s good-byes. She headed to the beach with Riley keeping pace beside her. Three miles down the sandy stretch she veered up and away from the water. She’d placed the cross at the top of the beach in a patch of wild sea grass.
The white wooden marker was visible if someone was looking for it, but otherwise she doubted many people noticed it. She stopped, breathing hard and fast from her run. Riley found a freshwater stream and helped himself to a long drink, but Emma barely noticed. She stooped down and touched her fingers to the rough-hewn wood. Etched into the cross was a single date. November 20, 1999. The sun and seasons had worn away the edges, making the letters less prominent. But they remained all the same.
Along with every memory of that day.
Emma stood and crossed her arms. For a long moment she turned her face toward the late afternoon sun and closed her eyes. The breeze was cooler today, and the warmth from the direct sunlight felt good. But it wasn’t strong enough to touch the cold inside her soul. If she’d known then what she knew now, there would be no white wooden cross, no unresolved sorrow shading every other color in her life.
No lonely looming summer.
She opened her eyes and stared at the water, at the place where the blues of sea and sky came together. What about Brad? Had he really been gone from her life for nine years? Were there never days when he woke with her in his heart, the way she still woke with him in hers? She could try to find him; the possibility presented itself some days when his memory was so real she could almost feel him beside her.
Shades of Blue Page 6