Five minutes later, Lee opened the front door and Alex walked in holding the hand of Holly Brooks. Linda still had to allow a quiet laugh when she thought of the way she must’ve looked. “Alex,” her mouth stayed open and she turned to Holly. “What … how could …?”
Lee came to her and steadied her until she was able to form a complete sentence. In the meantime, Alex explained that after the fire and losing Bo, he and Holly had found common ground again. “The two of us and God too.” He came to her and hugged her. “I’ve missed so much, but no more, Mom. Not after this.”
After a month of seeing each other every day, Alex had done what Linda had always hoped he would do. He had asked Holly’s mother for permission and then purchased an engagement ring for her. They had a lot of years to make up for, and they wanted counseling from the pastor who would marry them, so the wedding was set for Saturday, March 7.
“We wanted to tell you in person.” Alex moved back, and Holly took his place, with hugs of her own.
Linda laughed and cried and told Alex and Holly and Lee over and over again that she had prayed for this and believed for this all along. Alex and Holly stayed for dinner, and the truth came out — Lee had known about the surprise for a week. The next morning they all took a trip to Ground Zero and St. Paul’s Chapel, and Alex talked about how he had connected with Jamie Bryan, and how she had worked in the church for three years after 9/11 and showed him the journal entry about his father.
Before Alex and Holly left for Los Angeles again, Linda and Lee prayed with them, asking God to protect them and thanking Him for this new chance at love. Now Linda smiled at her handsome son as the music began to change. That November weekend was one she’d remember forever.
But it wouldn’t come close to the one that was about to play out.
Alex still couldn’t believe Holly had said yes. After how he’d treated her, she could easily have told him no or asked for more time. But she stuck with what she’d told him that tender day of Bo’s memorial service. She had always believed that the Alex she had fallen in love with as a teenage girl was still in his heart somewhere.
He clasped his hands behind him and watched the door at the back of the church. So much had changed in the last four months. He was moving ahead in his SWAT training, but he wasn’t working overtime anymore. His time at headquarters was rich and fulfilling, the way it always would be. But it was a job. His faith, his love for Holly, his friends — those were his life now. Six times already, he and Holly had met up with Clay and Jamie and the others for dinner at the Michaels’ house.
Life was good at Clay and Jamie’s house. Sierra’s cat Wrinkles wasn’t sick like before, and the kids were well — so their times together had been happy and full of laughter. Alex smiled to himself. Laughter, of all things, something he wouldn’t have believed would ever be part of his life again. During their counseling sessions with the pastor, he and Holly had even talked about having kids of their own.
They’d also taken a day and gone down to the beach where Alex had scattered Bo’s ashes in the foam of a particularly powerful wave, the kind of wave Bo would’ve barked at had he been there.
Through Christmas and the New Year, Alex grew so close to Holly he couldn’t understand how he’d lived seven years without her. They had both agreed to wait until they were married to begin the physical relationship they were both aching to experience. Some days Alex wondered why they’d scheduled the wedding so far out, but other times he enjoyed the wait, enjoyed watching Holly register for wedding gifts and get excited about going with her mom to pick out a dress.
Alex looked out over the faces in the church, the deputies and sergeants he’d worked with and grieved with, the family that made up the sheriff’s department. But more than that, his eyes found those of Jamie, Joe and Wanda, and Eric and Laura Michaels. These were friends he’d have for life, he was sure. Holly already loved them, and right now he felt a little like his father had told Jake Bryan he felt. Life was good, love was sweet, and time felt like it would last forever.
He understood John 16:33 better now, the verse his father had wanted him to take hold of. Yes, in this world there would be trouble. But God had overcome the world. Otherwise, Alex never would’ve been standing here. Alex looked at Clay standing beside him — his best man. The two shared a smile, and for a few seconds Alex imagined what it would be like if his father were standing beside him now. A fleeting, familiar pain seared the surface of his heart, but it came with no rage, no sense of driven determination. Sure, he still thought about 9/11, the way he always would. But at this point, the crippling sorrow was far less all-consuming and only hit him as often as it did other victims of the terrorist attacks.
Every now and then.
Again the music changed, and this time the organist began to play the “Wedding March.” Across both sides of the pews, people rose and faced the back of the church. The doors opened and Holly appeared, a vision of white lace and tanned arms, so stunning that an appreciative hush fell over their friends and family. Alex’s heartbeat quickened and he stood straighter, not believing she was really about to be his. This was what he’d waited all his life for, even in the years when he had lied to himself. Holly Brooks, walking up the aisle, about to be his wife. My dear God … I can’t believe You’ve brought us here … thank You … I’ll never have enough days to thank you.
He remembered to breathe as she came closer. Holly had never looked more beautiful, but not so much because of her pretty dress. That wasn’t what captured Alex’s attention. Her veil was thin enough that Alex could see the only thing that mattered in this moment.
Holly’s eyes, and an undying love that would stand the test of time.
Holly couldn’t take her eyes off him. Of all the miracles God had worked on their behalf, this was the most unbelievable. The change in Alex. Because looking at him now, it was impossible to think of him the way he’d been only five months ago — hard and cold, closed off to love or life or any feelings other than the quest for revenge. She smiled as she came closer.
Alex standing at the front of the church waiting for her was everything she had always wanted — and he was everything she had known he could be. A man full of faith and a love that shone through in their beach walks and late-night talks, a love that was as transparent as the spring breeze outside their wedding chapel.
She had never dreamed she’d feel this happy again, but here she was — about to marry Alex Brady. They had written brief vows for this moment, a reflection of the pure richness of their love. The way they felt about each other wouldn’t take a lot of words. They loved each other more than life, and they trusted God to take them through whatever the years held.
That was all.
As she reached him, as their hands touched and her body felt the now familiar desire, she could only think of one thing. Her mother was wrong. It wasn’t only in the movies that love came at people all at once. Because what she and Alex shared really was a stunning rainbow across an otherwise dreary sky. When they’d found each other again, their intense feelings of a love that had never died hadn’t taken time or work or any sort of effort.
They came all at once, in a rush, because they simply were, the way they would always be.
Jamie watched the wedding through teary eyes.
Clay was completely healed now, and he looked rugged and full of joy as he stood beside Alex during the ceremony. She thanked God every day that he hadn’t been killed, but she had to hold on lightly. The way any living person had to hold on if they understood the fleeting nature of life. She and Clay had spent more time together than ever before, and she couldn’t possibly love him more. In the past months he’d become a mentor to Alex, helping him understand what it meant to really love a woman the way Christ intended her to be loved.
On a couple occasions, he had even drawn from excerpts in Jake’s journal and favorite Bible verses to talk about love languages, and the danger of going to bed angry with each other. Clay had confided in Ja
mie last night that he was happy with how their talks had gone.
“Alex is going to be an amazing husband. The transformation in him is something only God could’ve done.”
“Yes.” Jamie looped her arms around his neck. “Because Alex finally understood that any move toward being a ‘good guy’ had to start with a hard look in the mirror.”
Clay looked at her now and their eyes held. His lips curved into a subtle smile before he turned his attention back to the vows. Jamie dabbed at her eyes and listened to the words being said.
“Holly, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, and I’ll love you until the last time.” Alex smiled at his bride, his eyes damp. “I promise to respect and love you, to honor and cherish you.” Alex was holding Holly’s hands, lost in her eyes. They might as well have been the only two people in the room. He was finishing up, and the last part was the most poignant. “There will be hard times, as there have been before. But when they come, I promise never to put walls between me and you, and I will share with you whatever pain comes my way, because you are a part of me, Holly. As long as we both shall live.”
Holly sounded choked up when it came to her turn. Her vows were the same as his until the very end. “Alex, I’ve watched what hurt and loss can do to you, and I promise you one more thing here, before our family and friends. I promise that when life hurts so much you’re tempted to forget who you are, you can always come to me. I will be your mirror, Alex … for the real you will always live here, inside my heart.”
They were about to exchange rings when Jamie felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Mom,” Sierra leaned in close to her. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I’m happy.” Jamie sniffed. “Love makes me feel this way.”
She wrinkled up her nose. “I’m glad I’m not in love.” She stifled a giggle and then leaned her head on Jamie’s shoulder.
CJ was on her other side, but he was too sleepy to notice much about the wedding. Jamie was glad for the chance to really focus on what was being said, because somehow the wedding between Alex and Holly was symbolic. It was a sign that beauty could rise from brokenness as many times as God was allowed to work in their lives. But beyond that, seeing this couple get married brought Jamie that final bit of closure where Jake was concerned.
She had devoted three years to helping victims of September 11, and when she moved here she thought that job was done. But with Alex and Holly, God had given her one more chance to help. Her prayers, the words from Jake’s journal, Clay’s talks with Alex — God had used all of it to bring about a dramatic healing in Alex’s heart. Jamie smiled, and as she did, she was almost certain of something else.
Somewhere in heaven, Jake was smiling too.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
from One Tuesday Morning
Dear Reader,
On the morning of September 11, I was getting my children ready for school, when the phone rang.
“Karen … are you watching it?” It was my sister, Sue. Her voice was frantic.
“Watching what?” I slipped on a sweatshirt and headed downstairs with Austin in tow.
“The TV … America's under attack.”
Her words ran together after that, and all I could do was move quickly toward the television. There I witnessed—along with most of you—the collapse of the World Trade Center south tower. By then we had my mother on the line, and for a moment none of us spoke. Finally, my mom's voice broke the silence. “What just happened?”
It's a question we're still asking ourselves, isn't it?
What crazy madness and hatred was unleashed on our world that day? And how was it possible that the evil men who planned the attack were so accurate, their aim so deadly? For a while that morning I turned the TV off and helped the kids prepare for school. We ate breakfast and packed backpacks and had our devotions the same way we would've on any other morning.
But when they were gone, I turned the television back on and watched in horror as the events of the day unfolded. By noon, the story of Jake and Jamie Bryan, Laura and Eric Michaels began to grow in my heart. It wasn't something I asked for, rather it was simply something God gave me. A story born in the ashes of the collapsed Twin Towers.
I felt about the story the same way then as I do now … that it could've happened. That with all the wild madness and destruction that day, a story like the one that happened to these people truly could've taken place.
But that wasn't the point—not then and not now.
The point was much deeper.
We were all changed by what happened on September 11. In the days and months that followed, we grieved and got angry and came together in a way that had never happened before. We loved more easily. Some of you who are faithful readers wrote me letters saying that you'd made amends with a family member or learned to express your feelings for someone you cared about.
“I tell my father that I love him every time we talk now,” one of you wrote to me. “Life is too short … I know that better today.”
We all do.
The lessons Eric Michaels learned while living in the shoes of Jake Bryan are lessons we would all do well to take notice of. The essential need for God in our lives, the value of faith and family and special times together. The importance of daily Bible reading. And most of all, the fact that a job will never be more important than knowing God or treasuring the smiles of our little ones before they're grown.
No promotion or job title is more important than our relationships.
There were other lessons of course, the ones Jamie Bryan learned. That we cannot run from death. Eventually, it will catch each of us, and often at an hour when we are unaware. For that reason we need to love without limit and be ready to face our Maker as long as we draw breath.
I am grateful that you journeyed the pages of One Tuesday Morning with me. It was a difficult story to write—especially the scenes in the south tower—and I am certain it was difficult to read. For those of you who were touched personally by the attacks on America, please know that my heart grieves with you. I have prayed that this book might be sensitive and compassionate, and that it might help you grieve, also.
Perhaps in a way you haven't done until now.
I've been asked many times—even by my own father—whether it's too soon for a story like One Tuesday Morning. But always I say the thing that is in my heart. As a nation we have shared our shock and our anger.
Now it is time to share our grief. And often that is best done through story. One Tuesday Morning was my way of grieving, and maybe … just maybe it'll be your way too.
For those of you who've read all my novels, let me tell you that my family is doing well. My husband is enjoying his time away from coaching, a time to be with our children and lead our family into a closer walk of faith. Kelsey is a young teenager now, and our relationship with her is sweeter than ever. Tyler still gravitates toward storytelling and drama, and the four younger boys are most easily found on a sports field. As always, we cherish your prayers … especially for my family and my ministry of writing.
I leave you with the words of Jake Bryan—“I've prayed for God to touch your heart … He means everything to me, and I know that one day He'll mean everything to you too. On that day, you'll no longer have to be afraid, because you'll have God Almighty to lean on.”
For those of you whose faith is as strong as Jake Bryan's … I celebrate with you the joy of knowing the peace that passes understanding. But if the tragedy of September 11 has you confused or depressed, if your questions about that day still stand in the way of your relationship with the Creator, please, find a Bible-believing church and voice your concerns. I am convinced that only then will you find out the truth about the love of God.
Though death will one day find us all, we are not without hope. For God has won the victory over death.
Remember that.
In Christ's light and love … until next time,
Karen Kingsbury
PS … I'
d love to hear from you at my website:
www.KarenKingsbury.com
or by emailing me at [email protected]
from Beyond Tuesday Morning
Those of you who read One Tuesday Morning know that telling Jamie Bryan's story was something I had to do. That first book came to me almost complete on the afternoon of September 11, 2001, and it stayed in my heart until I wrote it for you.
It was the same way with this sequel.
Beyond Tuesday Morning is really the rest of the story, the way the rest of the story might play out for all those touched or changed by tragedy. Like Jamie, all of us will have the chance to choose life. For some of you, that might mean making a recommitment to a dying marriage or looking for ways to encourage your husband or wife.
Choosing life might mean taking time to play with your children. So often we get caught up in the business of raising a family—making vacation plans, buying a house, getting a job, doing housework, fixing up the yard—that we miss the point. Making time with your children and the people you love is definitely a way to choose life.
But the way that is illustrated in this book is vitally important.
I've heard it said that all of us are either leaving a trial, heading into one, or smack in the middle of one. Trials can vary from issues at work to the death of a loved one. In Jamie's case, she was willing to spend her life memorializing the years she'd had with Jake.
But ultimately it was God's Word, combined with words written by Jake, that helped her choose life.
Grief and sorrow are important stages, seasons that we must go through. To some extent we will never be fully rid of either—not when we're dealing with the loss of someone we loved. I hear from hundreds of you every week—mostly letters of encouragement and offers of prayer, for which I will forever be grateful. But once in a while you tell me of tragic events in your families or communities. When I hear about a car accident or illness or loss, I always pray. I pray for hope and healing wherever possible.
The Tuesday Morning Collection Page 95