“Everything was fine.” His dad still looked puzzled. “You and Emma stayed together for a while after that, so I didn’t ask again. Whatever was bothering you, why you broke up with Emma, figured if you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me.”
“Makes sense.” The defeat in Brad made him wish he could skip the whole conversation. But he couldn’t. This conversation was why he’d come home. He straightened. God … give me strength. “You were right, Dad. Something happened, and I should’ve told you back then.” He rubbed his hands together and stared at the white sand between his feet.
“Something with Emma?”
“With both of us.” He looked out at the ocean again. “That summer, after I graduated … we made choices both of us regretted.” He turned and looked straight at his father. “Emma got pregnant.”
There was no condemnation, no immediate reaction except the slight way his father hunched forward. As if he’d been elbowed in the gut.
Brad could only imagine what his dad must be feeling. The baby would’ve been his father’s first grandchild. A sick feeling ripped at him. “We were young. She had another year of high school.” Brad hung his head, his eyes focused on the sand once more. “We didn’t find out until she was three months along. She thought … she was afraid … and her cycle wasn’t always regular.” He shook his head. How hard it must’ve been for Emma. “She took the test and the school nurse made her an appointment at a clinic.”
Until then, his dad hadn’t broken eye contact. But at the mention of the word clinic he drew a quick breath and lifted his eyes to the sky. He muttered softly under his breath, “Dear, God … no.”
Again there was no accusation in his father’s reaction. Just the heartbreaking awareness of what had happened. Brad understood. Speaking the words, reliving what they’d done even in these few details was gut-wrenching for him too. Brad’s eyes were damp as he finished the story. The day he and Emma went to the clinic, Brad didn’t have enough money. He’d called his dad for help. “Remember … I called that day and needed money.”
“For your car.” His dad’s memory was machine-like. He was the last person on earth to need lists.
“Right … that’s how I made it seem. But that was for …” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t come out and say it.
Again his father took the news with the courage of a military man. But the impact was there all the same. They were quiet for several minutes, and three times his dad sniffed hard through his nose. Again Brad knew. His dad was fighting tears, fighting the reality of his personal loss that day. The grandchild he’d never known or loved, never held in his arms. Finally he breathed in deep and put his hand on Brad’s knee. “If I’d known … maybe I could’ve helped you change your mind.”
Brad’s eyes welled up and a lump formed in his throat. He couldn’t speak, so he only covered his father’s hand with his own. Deep down Brad must’ve known that was what his father would’ve done. It was why he hadn’t said anything back then. He hadn’t wanted anyone to talk them out of their decision. It was easier to hold onto what the lady at the clinic told them. The procedure wouldn’t take long and then it’d be over. Something like that.
His dad slid closer on the bench and moved his hand from Brad’s knee to his shoulder. “Poor Emma.” He gazed toward the beach. “After you left for school … I always wanted to call her. Have her over for dinner.” He sniffed again. “Your mom thought it was better to leave her alone. Let the two of you work things out. But if I’d known …” His silence made it clear how helpless he felt about the situation. Even this many years after the fact. He was probably praying, asking for direction on what to say next. Finally he seemed to find a new sense of strength. “You’re sorry. I can hear that in your voice.”
“Of course.” Brad couldn’t bring himself to look into his father’s eyes. Instead he stared at the sand and waited. “But there’s something else.”
“The reason you’re here.”
“Yes.” Brad squinted at the sun lowering in the sky. “I never told her I was sorry.” He clenched his jaw. “It’s killing me, Dad. I mean, it’s killing me. Like I can’t move on until I find her and make things right.”
“Find Emma.” His words held a new soberness, as if he would need awhile to process all that was at stake. “Six weeks before your wedding?”
“Yes. That.” Brad hated his timing, but he had no choice. He couldn’t get past his guilt, couldn’t see beyond his memories. A rush of unexpected emotion stuck in his throat, surprising him. “I can’t believe who I was back then.”
For a long time his dad only nodded, and then he gazed straight ahead at the sea. Finally he clasped his hands and looked straight at Brad. “Sounds like you never wrote the last lines to that chapter of your life.”
This was why Brad was telling his father. The man brought no lecture to the table, but only a few simple words of wisdom. Something that would line up straight with the Bible and the character that his dad had tried to instill from the beginning. Brad turned to his father. “I’m in love with my fiancée.” He felt hopeless, angry with himself for being in this situation. “I want to finish that chapter without finding Emma. I mean, really. The wedding’s in six weeks.”
“With God, all things are possible. That’s from Matthew.”
Brad appreciated the reminder, and he believed it. He definitely believed it. But this time, he wasn’t sure if there were enough days before the wedding to pull off all he needed to take care of. Even if God worked a miracle. “So that’s what I should do, right? Find a way to close this chapter on my own? Without Emma?”
“No, son. Emma’s in the chapter. I watched you write it. You loved that girl with all your heart.” He paused, deliberate in his words. “If you have something to say to her, you have to find her and say it.”
The beach below his feet seemed to fall away, and Brad felt his head start to spin. He blinked, forcing himself to stay upright. He wanted his dad’s advice, but he never really imagined finding Emma. He could talk to his counselor friend, Jack, about making an apology face-to-face, but that didn’t mean he ever really thought he would do it. “Talk to Emma now? Before the wedding?”
“You already know the answer. You came home to hear me say it.” He adjusted his sunglasses. “Isn’t that right?”
Brad stood and paced a few steps closer to the water. The day was warm, the sky clear except for a line of distant cumulus clouds. Jack had weighed in on what Brad needed to do, but still he hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility. But now it was clear. His dad was right. This was why he had come. Because he knew he had to find Emma, had to look into her eyes and apologize to her. And he couldn’t make that decision on his own. He rubbed his neck. What would Laura think, and how would he ever break the news to her? He walked back to the bench and sat down again. “So I have to tell Laura.”
“What else is there?” His dad shifted his shoulder bag onto his knees. “You can’t tell me a Cutler man would start something as big as a marriage without a foundation of truth.”
Suddenly in that one statement, Brad understood what he’d been feeling and what he absolutely had to do. He had thrown a blanket over his past and built a lumpy foundation on top of it. He’d tried to pretend everything was fine, and he’d sidestepped yesterday on the way to the altar. But his daddy hadn’t raised him that way, and now he could see that clearly.
“Then I have two things to take care of. Telling Laura and finding Emma. All before the wedding.” He allowed his own words to simmer in his soul. What if Laura couldn’t understand about the past? What if she called off the wedding and walked away? He held his breath and looked to the sky. God, get me through this. Please. Go before me.
With me, my son, all things are possible …
The verse from earlier in the conversation played again in his mind. He exhaled, weary from the assignment ahead.
“Looks like you’re about to be very busy.” His dad stood and patted Brad’s shoulder once
more. “This too shall pass.”
“I don’t know.”
“It will.” His dad checked his watch. “Let’s do a little more hunting. Your mother’s making dinner.”
Like that, the conversation was over. There would be no emotional breakdown, no public prayer, no overt show of judgment. Brad was about to be very busy. If God allowed it, the coming weeks would finally bring an end to the most painful chapter of his life. But first he needed to talk to Laura. Then he would do the unthinkable, the thing he had never dreamed of doing.
He would find Emma Landon again.
Nine
EMMA’S ANTIDOTE FOR LONELINESS WAS A simple one: Stay busy. When she wasn’t training for the half marathon or working on her old beach house, she volunteered. This weekend she was set to work with CCC, the Concerned Citizens of the Cape. The group helped disadvantaged kids — whatever the need.
Cape Fear was an hour away, and only a few minutes from Wilmington. Emma loved her work with CCC, but being this close to Wilmington was always hard for her. Too many memories, too much sorrow from her final year there — even memories from Cape Fear. One Saturday a month she was here, and that was enough.
That Saturday they were putting together care packages for a long list of families. Citizens had been collecting canned food and clothing for the past month, and now it needed to be sorted, organized, and distributed.
The day didn’t figure to hold any surprises until Emma walked through the center door and saw Gavin Greeley, his sleeves rolled up, a baseball cap pressed firmly over his brow. He worked alongside a team of guys sifting through a mountain of canned food. He didn’t notice her at first, so Emma took the chance to catch her breath. Why was he here? Wasn’t it enough that she’d seen him yesterday at school?
Before she could busy herself in another part of the building, he spotted her. The instant surprise on his face told her he hadn’t expected to see her either. For a few seconds their eyes held, then he lifted his cap, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and stepped away from the table. “Emma … what’re you doing here?”
She laughed, amazed at her inability to escape him. “I’ve been coming here for the past three years. I’m a member.”
“Very nice.” He eased his cap back into place and walked closer, close enough that the faint smell of his cologne drifted in the air between them. Like always, his eyes sparkled with something that wasn’t quite serious. “I’m currently seeking membership.” He elbowed her gently. “Maybe you can put in a good word.”
“If you’re lucky.” She studied him, fighting the attraction. This wouldn’t be love, but maybe she could be friends with Gavin. There was no reason to be angry with him. He was merely spending his Saturday helping out — same as her. She pushed up her sleeves and tucked the layers of her long dark hair behind her ears. “Come on. I’ll teach you the tricks of the canned food trade.”
He laughed and followed her back to the table. They were an hour into arranging cans by food kind and size when Emma’s cell phone rang from her purse a few feet away. Her mother had been gone for six years, and other than the staff at Jefferson Elementary and her neighbors, Emma rarely received a call. Especially on the weekend. She stopped and lifted the phone in time to see the name Palazzo in the Caller ID window.
In a sudden hurry, she pressed the Talk button. “Hello?”
“Ms. Landon? This is Steve Palazzo. I’m Kristin’s uncle. The family wanted me to call you.” He sounded strained, like every word was a struggle.
“What happened?” She moved a few feet away and leaned against the wall. From the corner of her eye she saw Gavin watching her. “Is she okay?”
“She went into cardiac arrest earlier today. She was crossing the street with my brother when she … she just collapsed. Rick and Lynne thought you might want to know. She’s at Brunswick Hospital in Supply.”
Emma could feel her heart breaking. She finished the call and felt someone beside her. She looked up and Gavin was standing in front of her. “What is it?” Gone was the teasing from earlier. He took tender hold of her shoulders. “Emma, tell me. What happened?”
“One of my students.” She pressed her fists to her forehead and tried to focus. “Not one of mine, but my high school volunteer. Kristin Palazzo. She’s a junior. Her heart … it stopped and she’s … she’s in intensive care at Brunswick.”
Gavin started to say something, then he held up his finger. “Wait here.” He hurried to the group leader and checked both of them out for the day. Then he walked with her toward the parking lot, both of them moving at a fast, panicked pace. “I’ll go with you. I came with a buddy. He’s helping paint the gym.” He stayed beside her until she reached her car. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Emma leaned against her car door and stared at the ground. She was glad for Gavin’s help. The hour drive would’ve been too much for her in this condition. Her hands were shaking and tears blurred her vision. Kristin can’t die … not now. She’s too young. The girl had so many dreams, so much of life ahead. Emma paced a few steps away and then back again. Before she had time to think about what to do next, Gavin was at her side again. He helped her through the passenger door, then he took her keys and hurried around into the driver’s seat.
They were back on the main highway, with Gavin clearly determined to get her to the hospital as soon as possible, when he glanced her way. “Cardiac arrest? For a high school girl?”
Emma blinked and ran her tongue along her lower lip. Not Kristin … please, not Kristin. “She … she has myocarditis. Her heart’s been failing since she was ten years old. The … result of an illness. She … needs a transplant.”
She pictured Kristin walking into her classroom the other day. Her smile was as big as ever, but her pace had seemed a little slower. Now Emma understood why — her heart had been about to give out. No, not Kristin. Not yet. She’s not finished making her picture project. Her heart still had so much to give.
The ride grew quiet and Gavin didn’t ask more questions. Emma was grateful. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate on anything but Kristin’s face, her laughter as the students gathered around her just last Monday. Keep breathing, Kristin. Hold on, sweetheart. Don’t give up.
This would’ve been a time when many people would’ve prayed. If she was any sort of decent human being she would beg God for a miracle, for Kristin to spring back and walk out of the hospital room later that afternoon. But God — if there was a God — wouldn’t want to hear from the likes of her. She might even harm Kristin’s cause by pretending to believe after all this time.
So she did the only thing she could do. She willed life into the pretty teenager as best as she knew how. Please … She wants to be a teacher … please, let her pull out of this. She has too much love to give. Please … It occurred to Emma that if she was pleading, if she was begging for a hopeful outcome, then she had to be directing her request somewhere … to Someone. She tried not to think about it. All that mattered was Kristin, and the fact that somewhere in a frantic hospital room, the girl was fighting for her life.
They were almost to Brunswick when Gavin broke the silence. “I’m not sure how you feel about this … but would you mind if I prayed? For Kristin?”
How could Emma mind? Prayers coming from Gavin might actually help. She nodded quickly and squeezed her eyes shut, one hand shading her face.
Gavin waited until he was parked in the emergency room area. “Dear Lord, You are here with us. You never leave us, never forsake us. With that truth in mind, we beg You to breathe life into Kristin Palazzo right now. Please, Father. She has a weak heart, but a transplant could save her life. Please keep her alive until then and be with her family. Be with Emma, that she might be a strength and a source of light to Kristin’s family.” He reached for Emma’s hand and squeezed it once. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”
He let go of her fingers as quickly as he’d taken hold of them, and they hurried into the hospital and to the third-floor ICU. Emma
had spoken to Kristin’s mother, Lynne, one other time, but she’d never met either of the teenager’s parents in person. She was grateful for Gavin, that was all she could think of as they stepped off the elevator. Otherwise she wasn’t sure she could face Kristin’s family, a family fully rooted in faith.
She let Gavin lead her down the hall to the waiting room. A middle-aged man stood and introduced himself. He was Steve, Kristin’s uncle.
“How is she?” Emma’s heart raced, but she fought to stay focused.
“She’s on life support.” Steve’s eyes were red, same as the eyes of everyone else in the room. Clearly the situation was dire. “The first few days are critical.”
Emma wanted to scream, cry out to Whoever was listening, that none of this was fair. Kristin needed a heart transplant and another twenty years — not life support. She wanted to be a teacher … she hadn’t seen the picture Frankie made for her … Emma swallowed, searching for her voice. “Is there … anything we can do?”
“Friends from church are on their way. We’re going to have a prayer vigil — if you’d like to be part of it?”
She could feel Gavin beside her ready to join in. A prayer vigil would be perfectly comfortable for him. Suddenly Emma had a flashback, a time when she was in junior high and one of the girls in their youth group was hit by a car. The kids had come together at the hospital and prayed, and Emma’s voice was one of the most vocal. She’d forgotten about that, and the fact that she’d believed in God back then, believed in the power of prayer.
When she didn’t respond, Gavin quietly stepped forward. “We’ll stay … of course.”
“Thank you.” Steve looked from Gavin back to Emma. “Kristin thinks very highly of you, Ms. Landon. It would mean the world to her that you were praying for her.”
Panic coursed through Emma, and she struggled to keep her composure. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t stand here and talk to a God she had walked away from about a girl so sweet and innocent as Kristin Palazzo. Steve moved across the room to tend to a woman who was crying softly. Probably his wife. Emma used the opportunity to take hold of Gavin’s arm. “I need to talk to you. Please.” She hissed the words as softly as she could.
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