Kaleidoscope Eyes

by Karen Ball

  Stark realization sapped the color from his face. Jed could feel it just drain away as he stared at the screen. Though the commercial had ended, he couldn’t look away.

  “Oh man … ”

  Andy’s groan echoed the sick feeling coursing through Jed. “They used it. I can’t believe they used it.”

  “Of course, they used it!” Andy punched the TV off and dropped the remote on the bar. “I told you not to send that to Silas. Any executive producer worth his salt would do exactly what Silas did. Use it! What are we going to do now? They’re advertising a show we haven’t filmed yet!”

  Jed reached numb fingers into his shirt pocket and tugged his cell phone free. He hit speed dial and waited. Silas answered after the first ring. Jed didn’t even say it was him. He just blurted the only thing he could think of to say.

  “Silas, are you out of your freakin’ mind?”

  “Jed, my boy! I take it you’ve seen the ad, eh?”

  “Silas—”

  “We’re getting great reactions so far. The execs figure we’ll pull some serious demographics. Well done, boy. Well done!”

  “No! Not well done!”

  “Now, don’t start doubting yourself. Believe me, I’ve learned to trust those instincts of yours. You were right on the money—and the network execs have cleared a spot just for your show during sweeps week.”

  With every word Silas’s exhilaration—and Jed’s dread—mounted. “Silas, what are you talking about?”

  “The promo you sent, boy! That wonderful, killer promo! The suits loved it. Everything about it. The woman. The dog. Said to run it just as it was.”

  Jed’s stomach clenched. He met Andy’s “I told you so” gaze as Silas went on.

  “So, when do we get the whole show? The execs are nervous that it’s not in the can by now.”

  The waiter returned to the table, Andy’s breakfast spread out on plates balanced along his arms.

  “Silas … ”

  “But I told them with you at the helm, there’s no need for worry.”

  “Yeah, well … ”

  The waiter slid Jed’s water glass closer to him as he set down the last plate. Jed scooted his chair back. Andy’s breakfast took up the whole table.

  “You’ve never let me down, son, and I know you won’t start now.”

  Jed closed his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn’t he listened to Andy, just this once? “Silas, there may be a problem.”

  Silence. “Problem? As in inconsequential, doesn’t-really-matter, the-show’s-in-the-bag problem?”

  Jed swallowed. “Not exactly. More like we may not get Annie for the show—”

  “Unacceptable!”

  The word blared through the phone lines, raking Jed’s already raw nerves. “Silas—”

  “Don’t want to hear it, son. It’s not just your reputation on the line this time. I stood up for you. I convinced the powers that be to not only fund your little expeditions, but to put you in a primo slot for sweeps. Blow it now, and we’re both finished.”

  “I appreciate that—”

  “Stuff appreciation. You can’t tell me one little lady with a dog can get the better of you. Now get out there and get that show. The clock’s ticking! Sweeps wait for no show! Not even a hit!”

  Click. The line went dead. He punched the off button on his cell phone, then lowered it to the table.

  Andy looked up from his breakfast. Apparently he’d recovered from his shock enough to take sustenance.

  LOTS of sustenance.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “No?” He leaned an elbow on the table, propping his chin on one hand. “Let’s see, despite my fervent objections and dire predictions that you’d regret it, you sent the promo of Annie to Silas because you knew he’d love it. Well, guess what? You were right. And so was I. He loves it. You regret it.” He lifted his fork and stabbed a chunk of cinnamon roll. “Sound about right?”

  “I really, really hate you.”

  Andy grinned around a mouthful of food. “Yeah. Lots of people feel that way about we geniuses.”

  “Us geniuses, genius.”

  “Whatever.”

  Jed cupped his hands around his now cold coffee mug. “Man, I couldn’t have messed this up worse if I tried.”

  “Agreed.”

  He ignored that.

  “So I take it they think the show’s in the can?”

  Jed nodded.

  “And they expect it to be ready for sweeps.”

  It sounded as bad when Andy said it as it had when Silas said it. Jed rubbed his temples. “So, Mr. Genius, how do I get out of this?”

  Andy dabbed at his face with a napkin. “The second thing you do is take that tape I gave you back to the room and watch it.”

  “And the first thing?”

  “That’s easy. You do what all men since the beginning of time have done when they’ve gotten themselves into serious trouble.”

  Jed was afraid to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “What?”

  Andy reached across the table, lifted Jed’s cell phone, and held it out to him. “You call your mother.”

  THIRTY

  “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”

  ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

  “‘It is not my heavenly Father’s will that

  even one of these little ones should perish.’”

  MATTHEW 18:14

  OCTOBER 13

  10:30 a.m.

  “Mommy, lookit! Another squirrel!”

  Bree focused the camera on her little girl and waved. Amberly was too busy running here and there along the path to want more of a response than that. Just something to show her that Mommy was listening.

  And Bree was getting some great shots. Annie would be thrilled.

  “You’re a really good mother, you know that?”

  Now that needed a more expressive response. Bree lowered her camera and pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek. “Thanks, hon.”

  It was a beautiful morning. They’d gone on a long hike this morning, just the three of them, soaking up the sun and beauty around them, Bree taking one picture after another. There were so many wonders out here. All you had to do was look.

  As for Amberly, she scampered along the trail like one of the dozen squirrels they’d seen as they walked.

  “Oh, to have that much energy,” Bree moaned.

  “Look at it this way—” Mark slanted her a smile—“you probably won’t have to fight her to take a nap.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Getting Amberly to slow down long enough to take a nap was always a challenge. To say the least.

  When they returned to their campsite about a half hour later, tantalizing fragrances met them.

  Ernie waved a burger flipper at them. “Hey, you wanderers! Come and get it!”

  Jane handed them plates, and Bree looped her arm in Jane’s. “Now this is what heaven will be like … the men cooking and serving us.”

  “And angels dancing.” Jane nodded toward Amberly, who bounced around, waving her plate and singing a silly, happy song.

  Bree looked over their daughter’s head at Mark. “Oh, yeah. She’s ready for a nap.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Mark turned to Ernie. “Bree thinks I’m wrong, but you just wait. She’ll run down any time now.”

  Their friend regarded Amberly, who’d given up her plate so she could hold Ethan’s hands while they twirled in circles. “You’re dreamin’, pal.”

  Mark just smiled.

  It was probably ten minutes later when Bree realized she didn’t see her little girl anywhere.

  She jumped up from the camp chair where she’d been relaxing. “Do you guys know where Amberly is?”

  Jane scanned the area. “I thought she was here … ”

  Mark held up a hand. “Relax, everyone, and follow me.”

  They looked at each other, then did as Mark
suggested. He led them to the tent and pulled back the flap. Bree stepped in front of Mark and peered inside.

  There, cuddled up on the sleeping bag, her thumb in her mouth, was their little dynamo, fast asleep.

  Ernie clapped Mark on the back. “Remind me never to doubt you again.”

  Brianna leaned back into her husband’s arms. “You do know your daughter, don’t you?” He hugged her tight, and she patted his arm. “Hey, you wanted a little time to fish, so why don’t you go ahead and do it now?”

  “That’s a good idea.” Jane smiled at them. “We can watch Amberly if you’d like to go with him.”

  “No—” Bree fell in step beside her husband as they headed back to the Conrads’ campsite to finish eating—“I’m not that keen on skewering worms. How about you, Ernie? You want to go with him?”

  “Not this time. I promised Ethan that his mom and I would take him out in the boat to fish this evening.”

  “Well then—” Bree picked up her plate and settled back into her chair—“looks like you’ve got some solitude time, hon.”

  “You don’t mind not going?”

  “Well, not so long as you promise to spend time with your adoring girls by the campfire tonight.”

  He gave her a smacking kiss. “It’s a deal. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Jane looked at Brianna as Mark went to gather his gear. “Just an hour?”

  Bree smiled. “More like three or four hours. But that’s okay He doesn’t get much relaxation time alone.”

  “Neither do you, from what I hear.” Jane stretched her legs out in front of her. “You know, if you wanted to take a nap too, I’d be happy to watch for Amberly in case she wakes up and wanders out of the tent.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not sleepy. I do think I’ll go read for a while after I eat though.”

  “Okay Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  They chatted for a while as they finished eating, then Bree headed back to their tent. She unzipped the flap and slipped inside.

  Amberly was still sound asleep.

  Bree stroked Amberly’s forehead, smoothing the blond curls away from her daughter’s soft skin. Was there any sight more precious than a sleeping child?

  She piled pillows for a backrest, then pulled her book from her backpack and settled in. But after dozing off three times, she finally surrendered.

  Apparently Jane was right. Amberly wasn’t the only one who needed a nap.

  She lay back and cuddled her sleeping daughter close. With a contented sigh, Brianna let her eyes drift shut, listening to the soothing symphony of nature. Echoes of familiar laughter told Bree that Jane and Ernie were at their campsite as well.

  Her eyes popped open. Drat. She needed to tell Jane that she was going to take a nap. But she was so comfy here … Besides, with her arms wrapped around Amberly, she’d know if the little girl stirred or woke.

  They’d be fine. Ethan was at the next campsite, which pretty well guaranteed that even if Amberly woke, she’d make a beeline for Jane and Ernie.

  Still … it couldn’t hurt to be sure. There was someone even better than Jane and Ernie she could talk to—and she wouldn’t have to move to do it.

  So, even as Brianna’s heavy eyelids lowered, she sent a plea winging heavenward: Father, please watch over Your children as we sleep.

  OCTOBER 13

  11:00 a.m.

  Jed couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t think.

  About the only thing he could do was the one thing he didn’t want to do: feel.

  Emotions assaulted him, a tsunami slamming into him, pounding him into so much rubble as he sat there, staring at the image frozen on the TV screen. Two people, laughing together, eyes fixed on each other’s face, expressions clear evidence of what was happening between them.

  Jed tore his gaze away, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He didn’t know. He should have. Of course he should have. But he’d been so focused on his goal that he hadn’t realized—

  Liar.

  The word rang within him as clear as truth. His hands gripped the arms of the easy chair cradling him, and he forced himself to look again. To study the glimmer in the eyes, The brilliance of the smiles.

  Okay, God. You win. I’m sorry. I blew it. So act like she’s Your daughter. Do something here! That’s who You are, right? What You’re all about? Forgiveness. Restoration. Setting the captives free? So come on, God. Set me free.

  He waited. Senses alert for any hint of absolution.

  The stark silence condemned him further.

  Then ushered in exactly what Jed did not need: “‘I called you so often, but you didn’t come. I reached out to you, but you paid no attention. You ignored my advice and rejected the correction I offered. So I will laugh when you are in trouble! I will mock you when disaster overtakes you—when calamity overcomes you like a storm, when you are engulfed by trouble, and when anguish and distress overwhelm you … ’”

  Jed leaned forward, elbows planted on his knees. Stop it Just … stop.

  But the inner echo wasn’t listening. The recitation went on, the words weighted and sorrowful—just as his mother’s voice had been when she quoted these verses to him mere days ago: “‘I will not answer when they cry for help. Even though they anxiously search for me, they will not find me. For they hated knowledge and chose not to fear the LORD. They rejected my advice and paid no attention when I corrected them. That is why they must eat the bitter fruit of living their own way. They must experience the full terror of the path they have chosen. For they are simpletons who turn away from me—to death. They are fools, and their own complacency will destroy them.’”

  Complacency? He wasn’t complacent! Anything but!

  Now. But before this moment? Before seeing what you just saw?

  No arguing with the truth.

  Jed lifted the TV remote and, for the third time, hit play. Like a longed for dream—and a shattering nightmare—the scenes unfolded: him and Annie at the dog park, him and Annie walking together, him and Annie with Kodi.

  Andy’s mastery of the lens was painfully evident. Every detail, every nuance of expression, every movement, was faithfully recorded. Jed couldn’t miss the changes in the way he and Annie looked at each other. The shift from stranger to acquaintance, acquaintance to friend, friend to …

  He turned away.

  Coward.

  He didn’t even flinch. Yes. Absolutely Oh, not all the time. He could face outward dangers with the best of them. Had been immersed in physical dangers all his career, getting as close as possible to the core of the storm, the fire, the disaster—whatever crisis they were filming. Anything for the show.

  Everything for the show

  But this. His eyes defied him, drifting back to the screen, taking in the way Annie touched his arm, the shine in her eyes as she looked at him.

  He’d been a coward to the core when it came to something like this. And yet all his careful plans, all his innate avoidance, had been useless. Because there he was, live and in color, looking at Annie with that same glow in his eyes. Touching her arm with the same tenderness. And the sound of his voice when he said her name …

  Jed hit the power button, watching the screen fade to black. And this time when he lowered his head into his hands, there was no defiance.

  Just a desperate inner plea for help.

  As Jed sat there, something stirred at the back of his mind. Something someone had told him once …

  “Don’t face it alone.”

  Who said that to him? Or was it something he—

  Jed stilled. Then was up and out of the chair, going to kneel beside his bed, reaching. His fingers closed around the book, and he pulled it out.

  Ken’s Bible.

  He fanned through the pages, scanning until he found the note he was looking for. There. Written in bold strokes. “Need to remember this when life doesn’t make sense. Don’t try to face it alone. Find someone to share the struggle. And share it with G
od. He’ll have the answers.”

  He’ll have the answers.

  Jed stared at the wall. It all sounded so simple, but he couldn’t quite buy it. He’d gotten himself into this mess. He was supposed to just dump it in God’s lap and expect Him to fix it all? Why?

  His gaze dropped to the book in his hands, and he flipped to the first page, settling deep in the chair.

  And started to read.

  THIRTY-ONE

  “A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful,

  full of wonder and excitement.

  It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision,

  that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring,

  is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood.”

  RACHEL CARSON

  “but i solemnly swear to keep you safe.”

  GENESIS 6:18

  OCTOBER 13

  11:00 a.m.

  The butterfly was on Mommy’s nose.

  Amberly put her hand over her mouth to catch the giggle. But it was so funny the way the butterfly tippy-toed on Mommy’s nose. Its pretty wings shook. Like a little orange and black angel.

  Oh! The butterfly was flying away. Amberly had opened the tent flap to let it inside, but she forgot to close the flap. She wanted Mommy to see the butterfly. But it was flying outside.

  She stood up, then looked back at her mommy Amberly knew she was supposed to stay inside the tent. She wasn’t supposed to go outside alone.

  But the butterfly was getting away!

  Careful to be quiet, she reached for the butterfly. But it ducked and dodged—then spun and circled right out of the tent. Amberly looked at her mommy Should she wake her?

  No, she’d just catch the butterfly herself. She would be very, very careful and not hurt it. She would bring it back inside the tent and keep it there to show Mommy. Tell Mommy the funny way it walked on her nose. Then she would let it fly away

  Yes. She would follow the pretty butterfly. And she would bring it back to Mommy.

  Amberly stepped through the tent flap, letting her soft giggle escape.

  Mommy would be so surprised!