Sunset: 4 (Sunrise)

by Kingsbury, Karen

  “Sounds beautiful.” Elaine allowed the excitement to show on her face. “I can’t wait.”

  “And I think I’ve worked out the specifics on the honeymoon.” John tapped his pencil against the pad of paper and took a drink of water. “We talked about a road trip, bed-and-breakfasts from here to upper Michigan.”

  “Yes.” A softness appeared in Elaine’s eyes. “That’d be wonderful.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good route mapped out.” John explained how they would travel from Indiana to Ohio, where on their third night they would stay at a beautiful bed-and-breakfast rife with Civil War memorabilia. “Jennie Wade was the only civilian killed in the Battle of Gettysburg, shot accidentally in her sister’s kitchen while baking bread for the troops.” He checked his notes. “The love of her life died nine days later. It was a tragic story.” The owners of the bed-and-breakfast had allowed their home to be a tribute to Jennie Wade and to the love she’d held for her young soldier. “It seemed too special to pass up. What do you think?”

  “I like it. Bed-and-breakfasts have so much more personality than a hotel.” Elaine linked her fingers around her glass of water. A clap of thunder shook the restaurant, and the lights flickered. She looked out the window for a moment, then back at John. “We’re spending a night on Mackinac Island too . . . before we come back?”

  “Yes.” He made another check mark on the pad of paper. “Got that all taken care of.”

  “We’re stopping to see my kids on the way home, and then back to Bloomington for the Fourth. I can’t imagine a nicer honeymoon, John.”

  He felt the same way. They made a plan to look at houses this weekend, and the rest of their lunch passed quickly.

  After sharing coffee, they went their separate ways, and John reported to the hospital to make his rounds. He was working only three days a week, allowing the younger doctors to take on more of the load. But he still had patients in the hospital, and Friday afternoons were a regular time for him.

  The nurses and several other doctors greeted him as he walked into the intensive care unit on the third floor. Two of his patients had undergone bypass surgery and were recovering in the cardiac ward of the ICU. They were getting around-the-clock care from their cardiologists and the ICU staff, but John liked to check in on them too. On his way down the hall, he scanned the patient dry erase board that listed the names of those currently filling the various rooms. One of the names—Angela Manning—caught his attention and stopped him cold.

  He read the name again and tried to remember where he’d heard it before. Then like a slap in the face the answer hit him. Angela Manning was the name of the college girl behind the affair that led to the murder of his daughter Kari’s first husband. The events replayed in his mind, the details just as sad and sorry today as they’d been seven years ago. Tim had been a professor at Indiana University, having an affair with Angela Manning, one of his students. Only at the same time, Angela was being stalked by a crazy student on campus, a guy addicted to drugs and steroids, paranoid and suffering from mental illness. He was the first one to tell Kari that her husband had been cheating.

  Then like some sort of wild soap opera, three weeks after Tim announced he was moving out, Kari discovered she was pregnant. Even though Tim had cheated on her, she wanted him to leave Angela and give their marriage another chance. Some of her sisters recommended that she divorce Tim, but Kari stuck to her promise to God and to Tim. She wouldn’t leave him no matter what.

  Eventually her prayers and diligence paid off. Tim returned to her, repentant, intent on going back to church and living his life right, being a husband to Kari and a father to their unborn baby. But the stalker college kid had other plans. On a fateful night in the months before Kari gave birth, Tim stopped by Angela’s apartment to tell her that things were finished between them. The college kid was waiting outside. He aimed his gun at Tim and fired. The bullets hit Tim squarely in his chest, and he bled to death there on the sidewalk.

  The jury didn’t buy the insanity defense, so the kid was sentenced to life without possibility of parole. Turned out the guy was very clear-minded once he was off the massive steroids he’d been taking. Meanwhile Kari gave birth to Jessie, and Ryan—Kari’s high school sweetheart—became the friend Kari needed as a single mother grieving the loss of her husband. Eventually their friendship led to the beautiful marriage Kari and Ryan shared today.

  But John never knew what happened to Angela Manning.

  One of the doctors from his practice was walking up. John stopped him and pointed to Angela’s name. “What’s she in for?”

  “It’s a sad story.” The man shook his head. “Suicide attempt. She’s one of mine.”

  Suicide? John felt the adrenaline release through his veins, felt his heart rate pick up. “Really?”

  “Last night she took a bottle of sleeping pills and tried to end it.”

  “Hmm . . . sad.” John’s mind raced. “Is she . . . is she in a coma?”

  “Not anymore. She’s groggy, but she’ll be okay.”

  John looked toward the young woman’s room. “I think I’ll check on her, if you don’t mind.”

  “Go ahead.” The man glanced at his notes. “Tell her I’ll be in a little later.”

  As his colleague moved down the hall, John paused at the doorway of Angela’s room. Dear God, I know You too well to think this is a coincidence. Let me see her the way You see her.

  I am with you, my son.

  Reassured that he wasn’t operating in his own strength, John walked in and crossed the room to the side of her bed. Angela was sleeping, but even with her eyes closed, her appearance looked haggard. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and dark circles pressed deep into the gray skin beneath her eyes. As John studied her, a handful of conflicting emotions hit him from either side. At one time she had been a beautiful woman. John had seen her picture in the news and on TV after the murder. But here . . . she looked like she’d aged twenty years. And no wonder, with the guilt she must’ve been living with. He was still trying to believe this was really her.

  Here was the woman who dared sleep with a married man, the woman who cared nothing for Kari or the life Tim had back at home. But for the woman lying in the bed before him, Tim would probably still be alive, still married to Kari. John swallowed, trying to keep his anger at bay and get a grip on his feelings. Then, almost as if God was leading his thoughts, he suddenly saw her not as an adultress but as a broken child. She couldn’t have grown up dreaming she would be the paramour of a married professor when she was older. And whatever demons she’d battled in the years since that time, they’d led her here, to an attempt on her own life.

  Angela moaned slightly and turned her head from side to side. As she did, her eyes opened, and she squinted at him. It took nearly a minute before she seemed truly aware of her surroundings and the fact that a doctor was standing beside her. “You’re . . . you’re not my doctor.” Her voice was flat, utterly void of emotion.

  “I work with him. He wanted you to know he’d be in a little later.” An overwhelming sympathy came over John. He felt his expression soften. “How are you?”

  “My head hurts.” She was still squinting, still acting a little bewildered. “I tried to kill myself. . . . I couldn’t even do that right.”

  John wondered again at the odds of him walking by at just the right time, stumbling across her after all the years that had passed. “I firmly believe there’s a reason why you didn’t die.” The compassion in his heart grew. She was someone’s daughter, a woman who had believed a lie from the devil and so had paid with her life in a number of ways, and now, by nearly dying from an overdose. John put his hand on the bedrail. “I’m going to recommend inpatient psychiatric care for you, admission to a Christian facility downtown.”

  The lines around her eyes relaxed a little. “Are you a Christian?” Disdain sounded in her tone and filled her expression. “Seems like there’s a Christian around every corner these days.”

 
; John felt a surge of anger, but he resisted it. The young woman should be dead. She had no room for mocking the kindness of a stranger. Still, she wouldn’t be here if she weren’t being deceived. He exhaled, steadying himself. “Yes, I’m a Christian.” A strange and outrageous idea hit him. “Listen . . . once you’re established at an inpatient facility, we have a group of women at church who make visits to people who are struggling. Would you be open to that?”

  A laugh devoid of any humor slid between her lips. “Look, Doctor, you don’t know me. My family’s from Boston, but I left for a degree at the university. Found my way into a personal nightmare, a pile of debt, and what turned out to be a worthless job. Never figured a way back to Boston.” Her eyes closed for several seconds, and when she opened them, her look was harder than before. “If you can find someone in Bloomington who wants to talk to me, more power to you.” Her eyelids fluttered and she yawned. “What’d you say your name was?”

  John hesitated. Would she know his name? Did she have any details about the wife of the man she’d had the affair with? If she knew John’s identity, she might shut down and order him out of her room. Either way he had to be honest. He opened his mouth to answer her question, but her eyes were closed. “Angela?”

  A soft snoring sound came from her.

  John realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled, turned, and left the room. Once he was outside, he thought about what he’d dared to ask her. Whether she would want a visit from one of the women’s ministry volunteers. The thing that made the idea outrageous was that he wasn’t thinking of any random volunteer.

  He was thinking of his daughter Kari.

  The house was alive with the sounds of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, and Jenny Flanigan loved every moment. In the next room Connor was singing “Close Every Door,” one of his Joseph solos, and Bailey was adding the backup vocals. Jenny stirred the pitcher of iced green tea, poured herself a glass, and was walking toward the kids as Jim burst through the back door with Ricky in tow, the two of them laughing. They’d been practicing baseball, and their cheeks were red.

  The volume from the next room rose, and Jim made an exaggerated show of putting his hands over his ears.

  Jenny made a face at him and jabbed him lightly with her elbow. “Don’t you hear it?”

  “Are you kidding?” He produced a mock look of pain. “People half a mile away can hear it.”

  “Not the volume.” She rolled her eyes. “The music, our kids’ voices filling the house.” She closed her eyes and swayed to the sound. “It’s the soundtrack of our lives.”

  “It’s a loud one.” He chuckled. “I’ll give you that.”

  Jenny giggled and pulled on his sleeve. “Come listen to them. They sound really good.”

  “Yeah.” Ricky grinned at him. “They do sound pretty good.”

  The three of them went to the next room just as Connor’s song was coming to a close. His voice had matured in recent years to a rich tenor, with a powerful sense of vibrato that complemented the song.

  Jenny leaned in close to Jim. “I don’t care how well the kid can throw a football. He can definitely sing.”

  The teasing from a moment ago faded from Jim’s expression. “They both can.” He slid his arm around Jenny’s waist. “I’m impressed.”

  Ricky lost interest as Connor and Bailey began working on another number. He ran upstairs with a promise to return with his baseball cards. “I think I have one worth a hundred dollars!”

  Jim gave him a thumbs-up, and then he nodded at his oldest two kids. “Wow . . .” There was appreciation in his voice. “The play’s going to be great.”

  “Thanks.” Bailey blushed slightly. “We’re excited about it.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Connor stuck his hands in his pockets. “We have a lot of scenes to block still.” He blew at a wisp of his dark hair.

  “You’ll get it.” Jenny put her hand on her son’s shoulder. This was his first leading role, and he was taking the responsibility seriously.

  Ricky raced down with the baseball card. “See! Here it is!” He thrust it at Jim. “Whadya think? It’s a collector’s item.”

  Jim studied the card. “Could be. Keep it in a safe spot. We’ll check the Internet after dinner.” He looked out the window. “Today’s too nice to be inside.”

  “Unless you’re rehearsing.” Bailey grinned at him, then nudged Connor. “Which we still have to do.”

  “Hey, Dad, let’s go throw a tennis ball to Reggie. He loves that.”

  Jim grinned. “How about me and your mom watch?”

  Ricky thought for a second and then shrugged. “Sure!” His eyes danced the way they often did. He was so full of life and light, and out of all their kids he was the one most upset whenever anyone in the family was in trouble or needed discipline. “I like it when everyone’s happy,” he would say.

  This was that kind of day, and Jenny basked in it.

  Connor was finding the next song on their rehearsal CD as Jim reached for Jenny’s hand and led her toward the front door. “Another episode of the Ricky and Reggie show.”

  Jenny laughed, loving Jim beside her, the way he made her feel protected and precious at the same time. He was a couple weeks into the initial coaches’ meetings with the Colts and thrilled with the challenge. Just this morning, Ryan Taylor had announced Jim’s resignation to the team, and one of the junior varsity assistants was being promoted to take his spot.

  With his busier schedule, Jim had been conscientious about finding time to talk with Jenny, something both of them needed. They walked to the double recliner on the front porch and sat down, still holding hands.

  Jim sighed. “I love this view. Have I ever said that?”

  “Every time we’re out here.” Jenny snuggled close to him. Sunshine warmed their faces, and the hint of jasmine from a row of plants at the base of the porch wafted up and around them.

  Ricky ran into view, using his T-shirt to carry six or seven tennis balls. “This’ll give him some exercise. Here, Reggie! Here, boy!”

  Their old Lab came barreling up, stopping short of Ricky and dancing in place, anxious for the first ball.

  Inside the house, the kids were singing again and Jim knit his brow, curious. “They sound wonderful. When did that happen, anyway? I mean, just the other day they could sing and dance like the other kids, but they didn’t stand out.”

  “I know.” Pride warmed Jenny’s insides. “I have a feeling God’s going to use those kids in a very visible way.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “So . . . tell me about the meeting.”

  “It was good.” She felt him tense a little. “I wasn’t looking forward to it.” He was quiet for a moment. “Those kids mean a lot to me.”

  Jenny waited, the way she’d learned to do years ago when she and Jim were dating. He would share his heart and soul with her anytime, but she had to listen. Otherwise she could dominate the conversation and walk away knowing nothing new about the man she loved.

  “Taylor said something that made me feel good. The guys are still committed to stay away from drinking.”

  “Really?” Jenny had wondered how the team was handling the no-alcohol mandate. It was one thing to hand a list of rules to a bunch of teenagers. But after Cody’s near-death incident with alcohol poisoning, Jim and Ryan had given the team an ultimatum: stay away from alcohol or be kicked off the team. Period. At the time Jim had wondered if he was reaching the kids or just preaching at them. Jenny was grateful that the players had responded. “Ryan has to be happy about that.”

  “He is.” Jim shrugged. “The guys are okay with me leaving. They have Ryan, and they’re used to working with him. The transition should be easy for everyone.”

  “Everyone except you.” Jenny turned so she could see his expression. “You’ll miss those guys.”

  “I will.” Jim’s face was relaxed and unlined. He was the picture of peaceful confidence. “The pro players aren’t much different from the high school guys. Bigge
r and more talented. More at stake. But they still have to work hard, still have to stay away from partying.”

  Jenny hadn’t thought of it that way. “You made the right choice.” She slipped her arm around his broad shoulders. “That much is already obvious.”

  “For now.” His grin was easy. “In pro football your job is only as good as your win-loss record. But as long as God lets me stay, I couldn’t agree more. It’s where I’m supposed to be.” He winked at her. “Besides, I think Ryan might consider having me back if I’m ever out of work.”

  Fifty yards down the gentle slope of the front yard, Ricky flung one tennis ball, then another and another. “Go, Reggie! Get the balls!”

  Jim shaded his eyes, watching their youngest son. “I keep thinking how great it’ll be for the younger boys, getting to hang out at the Colts training facility this summer. Falling in love with the game.”

  A twinge of concern shot through Jenny’s veins. “Seeing up close how violent the game can be.” She gave him a wary look. Ricky had been born with a heart defect and had undergone emergency surgery as a three-week-old. He was fine now, but he still needed checkups every other year. She exhaled slowly. “It’ll always be hard for me to watch Ricky in a football uniform.”

  “Which is why—” he kissed the top of her head—“we hold on loosely. Life is meant to be lived. God would never want a kid as active as Ricky to stand on the sidelines.”

  “You’re right.” Jenny knew the appropriate answers when it came to worrying about her kids—whether it was her anxiety over watching Bailey drive off for rehearsal in a downpour with Connor belted into the passenger seat or watching the boys run full force into an opposing player during a soccer match. Her concern for the safety of their children was something she had to take to God often. She could only imagine being the mother of a soldier serving in Iraq, the way Cody’s mother was. Cami Coleman had served time for drug charges, but she was out now. From everything Jenny had heard, she was staying clean. Finally committed to being a good mother for her grown son.