Freefall

by Kristen Heitzmann

  But not without a toll. She’d been exhausted when Gentry came, her spirit drained. Now she realized Gentry had not been a burden but a gift. Part of something bigger, maybe, that had yet to be revealed.

  Nica sipped her tea and dared to believe Jesus did not intend to take her brother from her. But there was something still. She closed her eyes and found Jesus waiting. Drawing close, she pressed her head against his chest, felt his arms around her. “I’m ready,” she said. “Tell me.”

  Gentry knew when she approached the hospital administrator, the surgeon Dr. Long, and two doctors she hadn’t seen before that what they had to say would break her. For the first time, she appreciated the surgeon’s cold brevity. “The leg is septic. It can’t be saved.”

  Grief smothered her. She had called her dad, Uncle Rob’s only brother, before the sun was up on Kauai. She’d spoken with her mom as well. True to form, they’d voiced the optimism she had clung to until last night. No mystery where she’d gotten that particular trait.

  She had tried to reach her Aunt Allegra, as she’d been for days, getting the answering machine each time. They had no sons or daughters to call. No one else. The weight of the decision had weighed so heavily on her, but now she saw, in reality, she had no control at all.

  “You’ve tried everything? There isn’t anything else that might work?”

  “My colleagues agree.”

  He’d brought them in because of her, she thought, her public platform, her notoriety. But none of it would help Uncle Rob. She glanced at the others, hoping for one dissenting voice.

  Dr. Long repeated, “We are all in agreement.”

  Including God. She’d known it last night.

  “Your uncle gave permission for treatment.”

  In the helicopter before he’d lost consciousness. “Not for amputation.”

  “For all life-saving measures.”

  “And he’ll die without this surgery?”

  “I’ve held off as long as I possibly could.” For the first time the doctor’s voice held something human.

  Her heart labored like a lump of wax. She nodded. “Save his life.”

  From the copilot ’s position beside his friend Denny Bridges, Cameron had watched the morning sun gild the water as the string of islands slid away behind them. A bank of clouds scuttled across the left horizon, but the sky ahead was clear cerulean. Even so, the charter jet that was earning Denny a nice, fat income jumped and wobbled in the trade winds until they’d settled out over the ocean for six hours of contemplation.

  Denny would converse when they grabbed food at the airport diner, but he liked it silent while he flew. He’d been awestruck the first time he took the controls and experienced the rush of keeping a plane aloft over the Pacific. They’d trained with the same instructor, so Cameron had been waiting when Denny came back from his first solo, looking as though he’d been on the mountain with Moses. It had been a God thing ever since. But everything was for Denny—as he’d said this morning when they hooked up at the Lihue airport.

  He had flown a group in the day before and was right there to provide this flight back. Coincidence? “God’s got his hand all over it.” Denny’s smile was radiant.

  Cameron hadn’t pointed out that he made the trip two or three times a week, and odds were good that they’d hook up the morning he needed a ride. He’d simply finagled the seat Denny usually held open for the Lord and was thankful for it.

  As they cruised over the deep blue expanse, Cameron let his thoughts run over everything. The pictures were in his shirt pocket, but he hadn’t looked at them; partly at Gentry’s request, partly because of the missionary blood coursing through his veins, but mostly because the thought of seeing Gentry’s face on some porn model’s body disgusted him. It would ruin the images of her that he’d tucked up into his heart, whether he wanted them there or not.

  He would take the pictures to the authorities if he had to, but even as he and Gentry had sat in his truck on the island, he’d contemplated another way. He hoped to minimize the chance that those pictures would get out, but even more he wanted to quash the real purpose behind them. She hadn’t feigned embarrassment in his truck. Her reaction had proved her a mark for blackmail.

  After the six long hours, Denny soared in for a nice, tight landing. He offloaded the foursome who’d ridden in comfort behind them, as well as their luggage, then led the way to the diner for a late lunch according to their bodies’ timing, though it was dinnertime in California. The diner’s scent of fat, fried and seared, marked the place as a staunch holdout against sprouts and low-carb wraps. He’d work it off later.

  They’d barely put seats to the booth when Denny came out with it. “Gentry Fox.”

  May as well start explaining with someone who tended to believe him. Even so, the less said, the better. “She showed up lost and injured, and Nica asked me to look into it.”

  Denny’s face danced with amusement. “Great for your press conference, buddy. Now give me the real story.”

  “That’s it. Nica called me to investigate when Gentry couldn’t remember who she was. Then she remembered, and all hell broke loose.”

  “Hell tends to break loose a lot on that woman.” Denny sobered. “Is she lost?”

  Denny didn’t mean in the forest. “Hardly. Reminds me of you.”

  “Ah.” Denny gripped his hands together. “When I watched her in Steel I thought: a light shining in the darkness.”

  Only Denny. His own reaction had been far less elevated, cynical absorption. Darla could hardly hide her envy, the press their rabid curiosity; Nica, of course, responded with tender mercy. Maybe Gentry brought out people’s most basic natures. One thing was sure; there was no lukewarm response to Gentry Fox.

  Shaking his head, Denny said, “When all that persecution started, my spirit ached.”

  “Did you think her innocent?”

  Denny V-pointed to his own eyeballs. “Windows to the soul. I saw it in her eyes.”

  Cameron didn’t doubt it. His reaction had been more physiological than spiritual, though. Until a few days ago, he’d been sealed tighter than a time capsule—a condition he preferred to whatever it was Gentry had released. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her situation. “I didn’t know you followed that kind of thing.”

  “It was everywhere. Shuttling my clientele, I hear too much.”

  People in the motion picture industry formed a large customer base for charter flights to the islands. Denny’s business depended on them and the corporate bigwigs all along the coast.

  “So you’d have recognized her?”

  Denny shrugged. “It’s hard when you see someone out of context.”

  Their shapely, black-haired waitress approached the table with a tall strawberry shake and the metal blender cup it was mixed in. She set it in front of Denny and received his thanks with deepening dimples, then turned. “Something for you?”

  Cameron ordered iced tea, and she sashayed off to get it.

  Denny sucked the shake through his straw with hollowed cheeks, then licked his lips. “Still working for her?”

  “Unofficially.”

  “No retainer, no expenses?”

  “It’s a favor to Nica.”

  The pert waitress brought his tea and said, “I know what he wants. How about you?”

  “Whatever he’s having.”

  She nodded. “Right-o.”

  With his flaxen stubble and sky-blue eyes, Denny’s piercing gaze gave him the look of an archangel on truth detail. “A favor for Nica.”

  Cameron sipped the cold, tannic tea. “It’s not like that.” Now that he’d put distance between them, the days he’d spent up close with Gentry seemed surreal. “She’s a rising star, and I’m not …” He pressed back from the table. “I’m not looking.”

  Denny stirred the shake with his straw. “To everything its time; to hate, to love; to kill, to heal.”

  Cameron stared into his glass. Some things didn’t heal. And some people lear
ned from that. He chose not to hate, not to kill. He could avoid the rest as well.

  Denny drew the straw out of the shake and licked it. “Myra called me.”

  Her name jolted him like a cattle prod. “What did she want?”

  “To know where you were.”

  “Before or after the stories hit?”

  “That day.”

  Yesterday, the same day she’d called him, spurred by the thought of him and Gentry? Or him and anyone at all. Maybe it was Denny who’d told her he hadn’t dated.

  “Since I’d flown you over, I couldn’t say I didn’t know.” Denny’s brow furrowed.

  “It doesn’t matter. She can reach me anytime she wants. My numbers haven’t changed.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  Cameron nodded but offered no details. That conversation still left a sour taste. Miss her? Like an addict missed the hit that would kill him.

  Denny emptied the remainder of the shake from the metal cup into his glass. “It sounded like she’d been crying.”

  “I’ll bet.” She’d have turned on whatever it took to get what she wanted, in this case Denny’s sympathy and cooperation. But why bother?

  Denny replanted the straw in the shake. “A time to forgive?”

  Cameron sighed. “She doesn’t want forgiveness, doesn’t need it. She has no regrets.”

  “No chance of reconciliation?”

  Besides Nica, only Denny knew it all. The night she’d unloaded her sordid details, he’d staggered to Denny’s and bled. “How could I not know? Not even suspect?”

  Then he’d called Nica because even two thousand miles away she would be feeling it. She’d answered in tears. “ Tell me I’m wrong.” They had sobbed together because he didn’t know yet how to stop the pain.

  Because Nica had borne it, too, he answered, “No. No chance.”

  The waitress brought two burgers, thin as cardboard, with ragged edges on buns the size of saucers, two sides of shoestring fries, and dollops of chunky applesauce brown with cinnamon. She clunked ketchup and mustard bottles on the table, Tabasco in front of Denny. Either she was clairvoyant or she’d memorized his personal preferences.

  Denny watched her all the way back to the kitchen, then refocused. “So the gossip is the typical tripe?”

  “Well, aliens did steal Gentry’s brain, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

  Denny nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  Driving home from the airport, Cameron dug his vibrating phone from his pocket. He checked the ID and answered, “What’s up, Nica?”

  “Kai.” The pause was so long, his adrenaline kicked in. “Kai, they removed Rob’s leg.”

  “What?”

  “They couldn’t stop the infection, so they took him back to surgery.”

  He had doubted Gentry’s optimistic reports but hadn’t really thought it would come to amputation. She must be completely unprepared. Her universe of possibilities didn’t include unanswered prayers. How would she handle the fact that this time God hadn’t come through?

  “How is she?”

  “Brave. Strong. Devastated.”

  She’d been so determined to keep it from happening. “Are you there with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Okelani’s on her way.”

  Good. Okelani was a kahuna lā ‘au lapa‘au, healer and plant specialist, and didn’t trust Western medicine. But even she knew nothing could heal a septic limb spreading poison. Some wounds were beyond herbs and prayer alone. At any rate, Okelani would make sure Nica didn’t overinvest. “Any press?”

  “Not yet. But as soon as they hear …”

  “It’s what she’s chosen, Nica.”

  “Chosen?”

  “It’s what her life looks like. Don’t let it take any more out of you.”

  “Kai?” The tone of her voice told him he’d spoken more harshly than he’d intended. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong.”

  “It’s me, Kai.”

  He was silent a full beat. “Myra called.” Her name tasted like dead fish, a salt pool cut off and drying out in the sun, stagnant and brackish.

  “What did she want?”

  “To remind me never to make that mistake again.”

  “Oh, Kai.”

  “Listen, I’ve got to go. Tell Gentry I’m sorry, okay?” There was nothing he could do two thousand miles away. It irritated him that he wished there were.

  TWENTY

  Nica ached. Once again Cameron bore the brunt of Myra’s pathological selfishness, shoring himself up against past hurts and future possibilities. Her sting spread like poison through his mind and body. He still believed he could resist. He didn’t realize that only by opening to the suffering could he pass through.

  She closed her eyes, knowing pain would come unlooked for in the night or the bright of day. Sorrow struck in rainbow-drenched fields, in shaded valleys, in crystal coves. There was no resisting, no avoiding, only discovering what could be learned and given in its midst.

  Gentry had touched something in Cameron. Okelani’s kitchen had been charged with their electricity. But he was backing away so fast, he would stumble over the possibility—and be grateful for the fall that saved him taking a chance.

  Now Gentry had her own heartache. When the doctors had come out to say her uncle had made it through surgery, she had looked grim and sublime, in the midst of her dismay, radiating courage. She didn’t pretend the strength she’d shown on film; she embodied it. She’d been tested, but not broken. Unlike Kai.

  But her strength didn’t make her impervious. Maybe, as Cameron said, she’d chosen her high profile. But she was still human, still hurting. Nica rejoined her. “How are you doing?”

  Gentry paused her pacing. “I wish I could reach my aunt. She should know what’s happened.”

  “Rob’s wife, or sister?” Nica took one of the beige chairs.

  “Wife, but they’re separated.” Gentry sank into the other chair.

  “She’s ignoring your calls?”

  Gentry shrugged. “It’s possible things got worse between them, but I don’t remember.”

  With Cameron’s ache fresh in her throat, Nica shook her head. “Was it hostile?”

  “Decorously. Aunt Allegra would never fight. But she’s been on slow simmer since Uncle Rob realized he needed God in his life.”

  “She objected to his faith?”

  Gentry released a slow breath. “She didn’t know what to expect. She said things like, ‘Are you going to sell all we have and give it to the poor?’ ”

  “And?” Nica glanced sideways.

  “And Uncle Rob said if the Lord asked him to.”

  Nica raised her brows. “I can see where that might elevate her blood pressure. Did she have much to lose if the Lord suggested an estate sale?”

  Gentry managed a smile. “Uncle Rob’s invented some important things in the tech and communication fields—and invested well. It would be a big sale.”

  “How sad that what turned her away was what she needed more than everything else he’d provided.”

  “She doesn’t understand.” Gentry crossed her arms. “We’d had this mountaintop experience—just the two of us at eighteen thousand feet on Mount St. Elias. For a year we’d been pondering what mattered in life. And then up there, with the spectacular display all around, it just happened. Uncle Rob said, ‘I need this inside me.’ ” She turned with tears in her eyes. “We wanted the abundant life Jesus promised. And that’s what he gave us. Now …” She sat down, chin trembling. “How will I tell him?”

  Nica rested her hand on Gentry’s knee. She didn’t try to say his life could still be abundant, only, “You’ll have the words when you need them.” Because Jesus wouldn’t leave her alone in this. When they hurt, he was closest of all.

  Gentry sniffed. “Does Cameron know we were too late?”

  “Gentry, you saved your uncle’s life.”

/>   “But not his leg.” She gulped back her tears, then gave in.

  Nica hugged her, wishing Kai had stayed, then startled when a photographer leaned into the room and snapped a photo.

  Gentry pulled back as though singed while two hospital personnel escorted him out. She sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Cameron didn’t want you involved.” Gentry buried her face. “Everything I do hurts someone.”

  “Oh, Gentry. I’m sure it feels that way, but—”

  “I thought the troupe would change lives, but look what it did to Troy.” She rubbed her knuckles under her nose. “Being offered the part in Steel felt like a gift from God, his plan for me to make a difference. I was so excited, so afire with the challenge and opportunity.”

  “And you walked into the realm of darkness with the Shekina glory still fresh.”

  “Shekina glory?”

  “The touch of God visible in you, like the light Moses covered with a veil. If viewers could see it, I assure you forces of darkness were even more aware.”

  “But I didn’t tell anyone, didn’t pray out loud or preach at my fellow cast members.” She had fit in as well as she could, better than some whose egos or addictions caused conflict. She hadn’t trumpeted her belief that God had given her the part, the platform.

  “It showed in your work. You were brilliant.”

  And that meant she’d attracted evil forces, brought on persecution by revealing her faith in ways she didn’t realize?

  “I don’t mean to diminish your talent.”

  Gentry waved her off. Lots of people had talent; few soared to recognition overnight. But if God had directed it, why had he allowed such wreckage to follow? If God had led them to Uncle Rob, why take his leg like some bait-and-switch used-car salesman? You think you’re getting all this, but you end up with that. And even that’ll cost you.

  “Every gift has its own trials.” Nica’s face took on an otherworldly glow. “Believe me.”