Tuesday Morning Collection, The: One Tuesday Morning, Beyond Tuesday Morning, Remember Tuesday Morning

by Kingsbury, Karen

  “Hey …” Eric banged on the window until the teen looked at him. “Open up. Please! I have to buy something.”

  “Sorry.” The boy shook his head. He stopped sweeping and moved a few steps toward the doors. “We're closed.”

  Eric banged again. “It's an emergency.” No pimple-faced kid was going to tell him what he could and couldn't do. “Get your manager!”

  The boy disappeared and returned in less than a minute with a short, frazzled man in a rumpled shirt and tie. The man came up to the doors and shouted at Eric. “The registers are closed for the night. We open at seven tomorrow morning.”

  Desperation surged through Eric. He couldn't come home empty-handed. Not after missing Josh's birthday party. His hands shook as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet. Fumbling with the flaps, he opened it, yanked out a hundred-dollar bill, and waved it at the manager. “It's an emergency. Please!”

  The man eyed the bill and looked around. The teenager was gone, no doubt sweeping some other part of the store. In a sudden motion, the manager slipped a key in one of the doors and opened it just wide enough for Eric to slip through. “Look.” He took the hundred dollars and gave Eric a frustrated shake of his head. “You have two minutes.”

  Eric glared at the man. Two minutes for a hundred bucks?

  He took off into the store, mumbling under his breath. If he needed more time, he'd take it. He crossed the store and made his way toward the boogie board display. It took him thirty seconds to realize it had been taken down. “Hey!” He barked the word, and it echoed across the line of empty checkout stands.

  The manager appeared, impatience working its way into the wrinkles around his mouth. “You ready?”

  “Where're the boogie boards? You had a hundred last week.”

  “It was a promotion. Shipped the last of 'em back yesterday.”

  Eric gritted his teeth and glanced around the store. What else would a supermarket have for an eight-year-old boy? He moved quickly through the store and decided on a tall red birthday card and an oversized bar of chocolate. He paid the manager and was back in his car in two minutes.

  One hundred and four dollars for a card and candy.

  When he pulled in the garage a half hour later, the house was dark. He crept into the house and turned on the light over the stovetop. In the dim glow he grabbed a pen from the junk drawer and opened the birthday card.

  Dear Josh … sorry I missed your party, but guess what? You get to help pick out your present the weekend after I get back from New York. A boogie board! Won't that be great? I'll teach you everything I know, and we'll have a great day. Happy birthday, son. Take care. Dad.

  He put the card into its envelope, sealed the flap, and wrote Josh's name across the front. Then he propped it up next to the candy bar in a place on the counter where Josh would see it the next morning.

  Laura was already asleep, so Eric crashed in the guest room rather than wake her. He tossed and turned most of the night, wondering if they should have gone with Chiron over Amgen and whether the execs at either pharmaceutical actually had their hands on a cancer cure.

  By six-thirty the next morning, he was back on the road headed for the breakfast meeting at work.

  THREE

  SEPTEMBER 7, 2001

  The jet ski was flying fifty miles an hour over the harbor.

  Beneath another unseasonably warm, clear blue September morning, Jake felt his wife bury her face against his back. He loved how her body felt as it came against him, loved the way it made him feel bigger than her, stronger. Like she needed him—if only for a few minutes on the open water.

  It was September 7, the day they'd looked forward to all week.

  Once a month he had a Friday off, and as long as the weather allowed, they would end up just off South Beach down at the water. Most years saw them putting the jet ski away by now. But not this September. It had been the most beautiful fall Jake could ever remember.

  This time Sue and Larry Henning had come with them, and the two couples were taking turns watching the kids splash along the shoreline. Sierra's best playmate was the Hennings' daughter, Katy. The girls were both four, both a year away from kindergarten. Larry and Sue also had a six-month-old, but he was spending the day with his grandparents.

  Good ol' Larry. The man had been Jake's best friend since high school. They went through fire science together and joined the fire department the same month. It took a few years to wind up at the same station, but for the past six years, they'd both worked in downtown Manhattan, Engine 57.

  Larry's knees weren't what they once were. Too many years of football—both in high school and for the FDNY team. But he never missed a chance to hit the water with Jake.

  “Flying across the water for an hour,” Larry often said, “is worth a week of icing my knees.”

  Jake turned the jet ski in a gradual arch, and he felt Jamie lay her head to the side, letting the chilly water spray her face. He knew what she was thinking because she'd told him a hundred times. She loved being out on the water with him, loved the speed and the feeling of their bodies working together with the machine.

  She leaned up close to his ear. “My turn.”

  He nodded, cut the engine, and spun in a tight circle. With grace and ease he swung his body around hers and took the backseat. At the same time she slid forward into the driver's seat, and he gave her ribs a playful poke. “Hey … don't kill us.”

  “Come on, ya big chicken.” Jamie laughed and shot him a glance over her left shoulder. “A little speed never hurt anyone.”

  Jake loved the teasing in her voice, the way her eyes danced. He brought his hands up and covered his eyes. “Tell me when I can look.”

  She let her head fall back as she kicked the engine into high gear. At work Jake had the more dangerous job. Jamie was a stay-at-home mom, after all. The most dangerous thing she did was cook dinner.

  But when it came time to play, Jamie's thrill seeking knew no limits.

  Jake perched his chin on her shoulder and watched her spot a cruiser a hundred yards out. “Hold on!” Jamie's voice faded in the roar of the engine as she opened the throttle and headed toward the boat's considerable wake. Jake peered over her shoulder and watched the speedometer climb past fifty … fifty-five … fifty-eight …

  The move had Jamie's signature all over it. Here she was—terrified deep down in some private cellar of her heart that he would get hurt fighting fires—but more than willing to risk both their lives on a simple day of fun. He let his hands fall to Jamie's narrow waist. Her wild streak had always been there, even back when they were kids.

  The other football players wouldn't have considered dating Jamie Steel. “She's a beauty, don't get me wrong,” Larry had told Jake the fall of their sophomore year. “But the girl would make a better safety than half the guys on the team. If I made her mad, she'd kick my behind.”

  Back then, Larry had probably been right.

  Jamie had been point guard on the basketball team, catcher for the softball squad, and a state champion in the javelin throw. The school records she set back in the late eighties stood to this day, as far as Jake knew.

  After high school, when their dating grew more serious, Jake would take her for walks around Wolfe's Pond Park. Always after a few minutes the same stretch of dirt road lay out before them, and Jamie would tap him on the shoulder. “Race ya.” And with that she'd be off, sprinting with everything in her to the end of the road.

  It always took Jake a few seconds to kick into gear, but a number of times, Jamie actually beat him. Fair and square. After the race they would walk to a nearby tree and fall onto the ground beneath it, gasping for breath. Once when they lay there that way, Jake studied her and shook his head. “What're you runnin' from, Jamie?”

  She rolled onto her stomach and played with a piece of grass. “You.”

  He remembered shaking his head, assuming she didn't understand the question. “Not the race, silly. In life. Why do you push so hard
all the time? You must be running from something.”

  For a long time, she looked at him, her eyes deeper than the New York Harbor. “I told you, goofy.”

  “Me?” He cocked his head. “You're running from me?”

  “Yep.” She planted her elbows in the soft ground and rested her chin in her hands. “I have all this … I don't know, this stuff in my heart. Feelings and emotions … an energy, almost. Way more than I should have.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “The more I use up on sports, the less I have for you.”

  He'd leaned against the tree that afternoon and felt himself falling in love with her. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes sparkled in the midday sun. “That way if anything ever happens to you, I won't lose myself.”

  There were times after that—in the first year of their marriage—when Jake tried to remind her of that conversation. But she pretended not to remember. “You hold back with me, Jamie. How come?”

  “I do not.” She'd look surprised, hurt even. “Everything I have to give is yours, Jake. You know that.”

  He would study her, trying to understand her. “Remember that day at Wolfe's Pond? You told me you couldn't give me everything in case something happened to me. Because you didn't want to lose yourself, remember? Like you were afraid to love me too much.”

  She would toss her dark hair and shake her head. “I'm competitive, maybe. And I worry about your job. But I'm not afraid to love you, Jake.” She would frame his face with her fingertips and speak straight to his soul. “I'm not holding back, honey. Not with you. Not ever.”

  But she did. She still did.

  It was obvious, if only at times like this, when she was blazing across the harbor with her hair on fire, frantic to outrun some unseen terror, something she was terrified would catch her if she didn't run. Jake held on to her so he wouldn't fall off the back.

  If she wasn't running from him, maybe she was running from God. Jake was practically desperate for God to get her attention somehow. He prayed about it every day, but still Jamie hadn't shown any interest.

  Whatever it was, Jamie was running from it. Jake was convinced.

  They reached the cruiser and headed straight for its wake.

  “Hold on,” she yelled.

  They hit the wave full bore, and both of them lifted with the jet ski to catch two seconds of air before smacking down against the water and hitting the second wave. This time they nearly wiped out.

  “Slow down, Jamie.” He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Don't be crazy.”

  She eased up on the speed and did a wide turn. “What time do we need to be back?”

  Jake looked at his watch. “Five minutes.”

  “No problem.” She took aim for the cruiser's wake once more and hit the throttle, sailing out of it in a perfect angle toward the shore. “I'll get us there in three.”

  Jamie lowered her head and gave it as much gas as she could, shooting them across the harbor at unbelievable speeds. Jake wasn't worried. They both could swim, and Jamie was too keen a driver to let anything bad happen on the open water. But as he leaned against her, savoring her naked back against his chest, he knew he would never quite connect with her the way he wanted to, the way she was capable of connecting.

  Not as long as she was running.

  He gazed out at the city skyline and the wispy clouds beyond. God, if she's running from You, please … catch her. She's so afraid … afraid of loss and change and death. Afraid of You. I don't know what else to do, God. Help her stop running … Whatever it takes.

  A seagull swooped low a few feet from them as Jamie cut the engine and eased the jet ski up onto the shore. Sierra and Katy came running, their knees and ankles covered in sand.

  Jake kissed the back of Jamie's neck. “Nice ride.”

  “Thanks.” Jamie was breathless, her cheeks red. “I could've gone on that way forever.”

  Jake smiled, but her words left a pit in his stomach. Whatever she was running from, it still plagued her, just as it always had. They parked the jet ski and headed toward Larry and Sue, and the whole time Jake wondered about his wife. Would she run this way forever? Or would she be brave enough to slow down one of these days and let him catch her?

  Not just him, but God as well.

  Jamie and Sue stayed with the girls so the men could have a run on the water together. The women moved their beach chairs closer to the shore, and within earshot of Sierra and Katy.

  “I swear Katy's grown two inches since the last time we did this.” Jamie shielded her eyes so she could see the little girls in front of them.

  “She's taking after my side of the family.” Sue reached for a can of Diet Coke. “My mother's nearly six foot.”

  “Lucky girl. She'll be first picked on the basketball team.” Jamie leaned back. “Not like us shrimps who had to work for every minute on the court.”

  They were quiet then, and Sue stared out at the water after their husbands. “I love seeing them together out there.” She shifted her gaze to Jamie. “They're so much alike. Brothers almost.”

  Jamie reached for a bottle of sunscreen, poured the warm white liquid into her palms, and worked it along her forearms. It felt hot and wonderful against her skin, erasing the deep cold from the ride across the harbor. “I like them working the same shifts.” She glanced at Sue. “They look out for each other.”

  “Larry says Jake would never let anything happen to him on the job.” Sue chuckled. “Like Jake's somehow bigger than life.”

  “Jake feels the same way about Larry.” Jamie set the sunscreen down in the sand. “They're quite a team.”

  “Like twins, separated at birth.” Sue cast an easy grin toward the spot where the men were picking up speed and heading out for deeper water. “Even if they look nothing alike.”

  Jamie took hold of the armrests and stared out at the horizon. Sue was right. The men looked like polar opposites. Jake six-two, lean and built with short dark hair and blue eyes. Larry moved like a tank, two hundred pounds of muscle on a frame that was barely five-nine in his work boots. His skin was covered with the kind of freckles that usually accompany his shade of red hair.

  Jamie shook her head. “You should've seen them in high school. Mo and Curley all over again.”

  “I bet.”

  “Larry, the wild one … sensible Jake, the voice of reason.” Jamie dug around in the bag beside her, found a white visor, and slid it onto her head. A breeze washed over her, and she breathed in the ocean air. “You can't believe the crazy things they did back then.”

  “Like what?”

  Jamie closed her eyes for a moment and grabbed at one of a hundred memories. “Like the time Larry convinced the football team to run lines down here at the beach at midnight.”

  “Midnight?”

  “Yes.” Jamie raised an eyebrow. “In winter.” She chuckled at the memory. “The guys had icicles hanging from their hair before Jake rounded everyone up and told them to meet back at the school.”

  “Hmmm.” Sue looked back out to sea, and Jamie followed her gaze. The men were just a dot on the distant horizon. “I wish I could've been there.”

  “It seems like you were around back then.” From a few yards away, Sierra waved, and Jamie waved back. “You met Larry in college, right?”

  “Our junior year. Third meeting of the campus Bible study.”

  Something about the words soured Jamie's mood, and she fell silent for several minutes. Usually, she let it pass when Larry or Sue or even Jake brought up anything religious. But here, now, she felt suddenly compelled to ask. She turned to her friend and cocked her head. “Is it really that wonderful?”

  Sue's face went blank. “What?”

  “Church … Bible studies … you know, the God stuff.” Jamie's words were slow, thoughtful. “It's kept your attention all these years, but why? What's so great about it?”

  “Uh-oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Jake's pushing you?”

  “No.” Jamie laughed even as th
e tension built within her. “He hasn't done that for years. He knows better.” Her tone grew serious again. “I just wonder, I guess. Why bother? I mean we have so little time together as it is. Why spend Sunday mornings in some old building singing songs?”

  Peace washed over Sue's face, and she took a sip from her pop. “It isn't about the building or the songs.” There wasn't a trace of criticism in Sue's voice. “It's about coming together and declaring as a group that you believe … that you desperately need a Savior and that the week wouldn't be the same without taking time to say so.”

  Doubt blew across the barren places of Jamie's heart. “You actually want to be there?”

  “Yes.” Sue's expression was sympathetic. “You should give it a try someday, Jamie. One Sunday wouldn't hurt.”

  Jamie bristled at the idea. “If I believed in God, I'd go.”

  “Oh.” Sue waited a minute before responding. “You still don't believe?” She motioned toward the girls. They had built a sandcastle and were digging a moat around it. “Even after having Sierra?”

  “Meaning what?” Jamie didn't see the connection.

  “Kids. The miracle of life.” Sue shrugged. “If anything convinced me God was real, it was holding Katy for the first time. There she was, a part of me and a part of Larry, all knit together perfectly. Only God could do that.”

  For an instant Jamie understood.

  She'd felt that same sense of wonder the first time she held Sierra. Every time she'd held her since then, for that matter. But it wasn't God she was sensing. It was life itself. As Sue had said, the miracle of life. Jamie dusted the sand off her ankles and met Sue's eyes. “If there is a God … why doesn't He put out fires before our guys have to fight them?”

  A sigh slipped from Sue's lips. “This isn't heaven, Jamie. Nothing's going to be perfect here. But even still, God's in control.”

  “But how do you know?” Jamie gestured toward the sea. “You and Larry and Jake talk about heaven like you've been there. But there's no guarantee. And if God's willing to let us suffer here on earth, why should I believe He has something better for me after I die?”