Kaleidoscope Eyes

by Karen Ball

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Evil when we are in its power is not felt as evil

  but as a necessity; or even a duty”

  SIMONE WEIL

  “Don’t let evil get the best of you,”

  ROMANS 12:21

  OCTOBER 13

  12:00 p.m.

  Surely the heavens were smiling down on him.

  He almost hadn’t come this morning. So much to do. Too much chance someone would miss him. But the dark urging had been so strong.

  Finally he couldn’t fight it any longer. He made his excuses and drove up into the mountains as though the very demons of hell were on his heels.

  Maybe they were.

  But whatever the motivation, he was here. And heaven knew he couldn’t have arranged such precise, perfect timing no matter how hard he tried. To be standing here, watching, at the precise moment his chosen star decided to wander off? And that the mother should be so sound asleep she didn’t hear a thing? For him to trail the child in silence, with nothing to give him away, not a snap of a stick or rustle of leaves?

  It had to be the work of heaven.

  After all, had he not been here, who knew what could have happened to this precious little girl. This one who would make things right again. He watched her, dancing after the butterfly and going ever deeper into the woods. Poor thing. Her mother certainly wasn’t watching over her. Foolish woman. With the world so full of predators—those on two legs as well as four—how could she be so careless?

  Yes, it was good he was here.

  He would take her. It was his right. He was watching over her when she wandered away. So it only stood to reason that she was his. She’d be the perfect star in his drama. All his care and deliberation were about to pay off. Just one more bit of preparation, and he’d be ready.

  Excitement surged through his veins. He hesitated, poised and ready to step onto the stage. He held his breath, savoring the moment.

  It was time.

  The curtain was about to go up.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Not only do we not know God except through Jesus Christ;

  We do not even know ourselves except through Jesus Christ”

  BLAISE PASCAL

  “Then Jesus placed his hands over the man’s eyes again.

  As the man stared intently his sight was completely restored,

  and he could see everything clearly.”

  MARK 8:25

  OCTOBER 13

  12:00 p.m.

  “Up ‘n’ at ’em, Mom.”

  Jed rang the doorbell a second time, though he could hear footsteps approaching. She’d probably scold him for being impatient, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to talk with her. Now. And not just about Annie.

  On the drive over here his mind—and his heart—had been working overtime. He’d read page after page in Ken’s Bible, almost as moved by Ken’s notes as he was by the text itself. But both worked together, showing him something he’d never expected to see.

  Himself.

  One cold, hard truth after another struck home. About who he was. Why he did the things he did to himself. And to others.

  Like Annie.

  Facing what he’d done to her sliced deep, a grappling hook that dredged his spirit, revealing other long-ignored truths and shoving them in his face. With each new realization, Jed sank deeper into his chair. Finally he couldn’t take it another moment.

  He grabbed the phone and called his mom.

  The sweet sound of her voice had been a salve to his raw heart. When he said he needed to talk, she hadn’t hesitated. “Of course, dear. Come right over.”

  At the sound of the doorknob turning, Jed steeled himself. He would face his mother and say the things he now knew he had to say. He was ready.

  But the words he’d prepared died on his lips when he saw who opened the door.

  “Amos.”

  The man smiled, but not before Jed caught the glimmer of pain in his eyes at the flat tone in Jed’s voice. “Come on in, Jed.”

  He stepped past the older man, his mind scrambling to adjust. Facing his mom was one thing. Facing her with Amos beside her … he wasn’t sure he could do that.

  Amos was the first to break the awkward silence between them. “Your mother’s waiting in the living room. She’s got coffee brewed and ready”

  Jed started to walk past Amos without a word, but his feet wouldn’t budge. They seemed anchored to the floor. He kept his gaze fixed on the rug beneath his feet. “So … you special order this rug?”

  Amos glanced down, a slight crease appearing between his brows. “Your mother did.” His forehead smoothed as they surveyed the room around them. “She always knows the perfect touch to make a room warm and welcoming.”

  Jed started and looked up. Studied the man’s features. As always, his face flat lit up when he talked about Jed’s mom. But where that had irritated Jed in the past, this time he found it fascinating. Because he’d seen it before. Not twenty minutes ago.

  On his own face when he talked to Annie.

  Suddenly Jed knew he not only could do this with Amos present; he needed to. “Why don’t you come join us, Amos?”

  His stepfather only hesitated a moment, then a smile broke across his weathered features. “I’d like that.”

  They walked into the living room together, a sight that stopped his mother cold. Jed couldn’t help but smile. He dropped into a large, cushy chair, indicating that Amos should sit on the couch beside his mother.

  To her credit, she adjusted quickly, her usual calm settling back in place as she lifted the coffeepot to pour Jed a steaming cup. She handed it to him, catching his gaze head-on as he reached out to take it.

  “Ernest Jediah Curry, you know I adore you and how happy I am you’ve come home, but I have to ask: What is your problem?”

  Jed’s mouth quirked at his mother’s blunt question. “Settle back, Mom, and I’ll tell you. I gotta warn you though—” he took a sip of the coffee—“it’s a doozy”

  As she sat back, one hand nestled in Amos’s big hand, Jed started to speak. Stopped. Started again. Bit his lip. Grabbed for the first distraction at hand—a flowered throw pillow—and plucked at its fuzzy fringe.

  Oh, man. Where to begin?

  How about with the truth?

  Right.

  “I did something stupid, Mom.”

  The least she could do was look surprised. But no. She just tilted her head. “And?”

  Amos tugged at her hand, and she relented. “I’m sorry, dear. Go on.”

  Heaving a heavy sigh, he told them everything, not sparing himself as he spilled it all: how he came to town to meet Annie Justice, plant the seeds that would win her trust, then get her to agree to do the show. About his decision to send the promo to Silas, the man’s reaction.

  His mom listened, nodding once in a while but not saying anything. He appreciated that.

  In fact, he appreciated a number of things about his mother. This last week or so it was as though he saw her—really saw her—for the first time. The quick wit. The love that overflowed her actions and words. The joy that cloaked her like an old familiar comforter.

  She was a woman at peace.

  Had she been like this when he was growing up?

  Probably.

  If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit he hadn’t seen much of anything but anger when he was a kid. His father’s. His own. As he thought back on those days, he realized the only one who hadn’t been angry was his mom.

  Hurt, yes. Sad, of course. But angry?

  No.

  In fact, he could see now that he and his father had cornered the market on that particular commodity. And he could see something else too.

  He could see how much that had cost him. Not just in his relationship with his mother. But with Amos as well.

  “So … ” He swallowed hard, punching the pillow. “That’s it. The whole ugly story.” He bent the pillow in half. “But the thing is, it didn’t work ou
t the way I planned.”

  His mom’s clear gaze pinned him. “Really.”

  “Annie’s just, well—” he waved the pillow by the fringe—“she’s so different from what I expected. Watching her, talking with her, there’s something unique about her. Something really special. And when she’s working with Kodi … ”

  Good grief! Was he going to cry? What was wrong with him? He shook off the emotions and shoehorned the words from his tight throat. “I don’t know, they make me smile, Mom. Like I haven’t done in years.” He plucked at the pillow again. “Then there’s that family of hers. They talk about God so freely, like—” he tossed the pillow in the air—“He’s just a natural part of their lives.”

  “He probably is.” She leaned forward, and with a speed that took him unawares, her hand shot out to snag the pillow and jerk it away from him. She set it on her lap, smoothing it. “It’s like that for lots of folks.”

  Jed laid his hand over hers, where it rested on the abused pillow “I know, Mom. And I know I’ve acted like a jerk about … things.”

  He crossed his fingers, hoping she’d let it go at that. No such luck.

  “Things?”

  He drew a deep breath. “About the whole mess with Dad. I know it wasn’t your fault. And—” his gaze moved to the man sitting beside her—“about you, Amos.” Jed wanted to look away, but he didn’t let himself. “I was too angry to see how unhappy you were with Dad, how much he hurt you. And to see how great Amos is.” He shook the roughness from his voice. “Amos, I’ve never seen a man act with such love before. You treat Mom like she’s the most precious thing in your life.”

  His stepfather was having his own trouble getting words out. “Because she is, son.”

  Jed gripped it like a life preserver keeping him afloat in surging waves of regret and self-recrimination.

  “You deserve a husband who loves you like that. I’m just sorry it took me this long to see that. And I’m sorry I acted the way I did about your faith, Amos. You never really tried to shove it down my throat. You just … ”

  Jed finally looked away. He wasn’t sure he could say this, no matter how true it was. But he had to get it out. Had to let them know For their sakes. And for his own. “You were just trying to love me too. To be the dad I never had.”

  His mother’s hand cupped his face, and she lifted his gaze to meet her own. “Thank you, Jed.”

  “Mom … I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right, dear. We understand. And so does God. He knows us, inside and out. Nothing about us surprises Him. Not our weaknesses, not our stubbornness. We don’t have to earn His acceptance. He accepts us as we are. Thank heaven.”

  Even with all the regret and guilt chasing through him, he smiled. “You and Annie are so much alike. I think you’d really like each other. You both share such faith—and it stands no matter what. Believe it or not, I remember how that felt, those first days when I had the sense that God’s hand was on my shoulder.”

  His mom’s eyes shone. “It always has been, dear.”

  “I can’t say I understand faith the way you two do, and yet … ”

  “You’d like to.”

  He nodded.

  “Which must have made it even harder to spend all this time talking with Annie about these kinds of things—”

  He knew where she was headed. “Faith and God and truth—”

  “All the while knowing you were living a lie.”

  What could he say? Oh, he’d tried to dress it up, but there was no denying the obvious.

  Except … “Not all of it was a lie.”

  Amos and his mom waited as he sorted through his thoughts. “My feelings for Annie. Those aren’t a lie. They’re as true as it gets.”

  “What are your feelings for her?”

  Oh, man. Was he really going to say this out loud? “I care about her, Mom.” The truth of that simple statement speared him, sending regret slicing deep. “I really do. I care about her more every day.”

  Joy lit his mother’s features. “Oh, Jed, that’s wonderful.”

  “No.” He closed his eyes. “No, it’s not. It’s terrible.” Misery pried Jed’s eyes open, and he bolted out of his chair, pacing as words poured out of him in a tormented torrent. “What have I done? I mean, how do I tell Annie what I feel, how much she means to me, without telling her who I really am? And if I do that, I have to tell her why I really came back to town. And then there’s Silas and that stupid clip I sent. How can I let him down when he’s done so much for me, believed in me all these years? And it’s not just me, Mom. I could end up hurting his reputation. How can I have that on my conscience—not like there’s much space left there considering everything else I’ve messed up.”

  Amos rose and put a solid hand on Jed’s shoulder, bringing him to a halt. “Sit down, son.”

  He didn’t even argue. He just plopped into the chair. “I just … I don’t know. I wish none of it had happened.”

  His mother considered that. “You wish you hadn’t met Annie?”

  Jed stilled. No. He couldn’t say he wished that.

  His mother must have read his answer in his expression, because she patted the back of his hand, an action equal parts comfort and reprimand. “I’m proud of you, Jediah.”

  His mouth fell open. “You’re … what?”

  The coiners of her mouth lifted. “I’m proud of you. It isn’t easy to admit you’re wrong. Even harder to take the steps to make things right.”

  Jed glanced at Amos, whose steady gaze calmed him. “This won’t be easy, son. You know that.”

  Did he ever.

  His mother let go of Jed and lifted her coffee cup to take a sip. “Just do what’s right, dear. God will take care of the rest.”

  Jed marveled at the woman sitting next to him. “How do you do that, Mom?”

  “Do what?”

  “How do you listen to your only child spill his guts, telling you the awful things he’s done? If I were in your shoes, I’d be so disappointed. But here you sit, and all I sense from you is acceptance. Compassion.” He halted. This was getting ridiculous. He wasn’t the kind of guy who got choked up. Ever. But ever since the day Ken was killed, he’d felt like some kind of emotional basket case.

  Like right now. He couldn’t even get a sentence out without wanting to lay his head in his mother’s lap and weep.

  When he finally could speak again, his voice was rough. “Such love.”

  At his mom’s silence, he looked up. Tears glistened in her eyes. She tried to speak but couldn’t.

  Maybe it was genetic.

  Amos slid his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head against him. Jed understood. She drew strength from his love.

  Finally she straightened, her shrug elegant in its eloquence. “‘My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen—’” she squeezed his hand—“‘my crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.’”

  “King Henry VI” he whispered. “Act 3, scene 1.”

  Her smile was a benediction.

  Jed didn’t need to ask the source of her contentment. He recognized it as the same source that made Annie all she was.

  The same Source that had been hounding him since he left home all those years ago.

  And while he wasn’t ready to give in yet, sitting here in a companionable silence with his mother and stepdad, Jed realized something.

  He hadn’t been the one planting seeds at all.

  Rather, he’d been the soil. And right now, he felt rototilled, fertilized, and planted. And unless he missed his guess, the seeds were taking root. Because every day brought an increasing awareness that something was missing in his life. Something he’d abandoned.

  Something he wanted back.

  “Are you all right, Jed?”

  A mere week ago, Amos’s concern would have been an intrusion. Now Jed welcomed it.

  “I will be. I know what I need to do.”

&n
bsp; “You’ve made some very positive steps already.” Jed’s mom looked from him to Amos, and the joy on her face told him he’d been right to do this. To open the door not only to her, but to the man who’d made her so happy. “So what will you do now?”

  Jed thought for a moment. “As I see it, I’ve got a couple of steps to take. First, I need to deal with the show. I should be able to get a flight back to LA first thing tomorrow.” He sighed. “Silas is going to kill me.”

  “Could you lose your job?”

  “Maybe, but I can’t worry about that. I need to put things right. No matter what happens.”

  “And the second step?”

  His mom nudged Amos with her elbow. “I’m betting that has to do with a certain beautiful artist we know.”

  Amos waggled those bushy brows. “Ah, you mean the woman with a soft spot for lost people and big black dogs?”

  “And, God willing, for our boy.”

  His mother’s tender words warmed him, even as apprehension tightened his chest. Yes, it would be great if God was willing. Because Jed had a terrible feeling that once Annie found out what he’d done, she’d be willing to do one thing, and one thing only.

  Forget Jed Curry ever existed.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Have courage for the great sorrows of life

  and patience for the small ones.

  And when you have finished your daily task,

  go to sleep in peace. God is awake.”

  VICTOR HUGO

  “I still dare to hope when I remember this:

  The unfailing love of the LORD never ends!

  By his mercies we have been kept from complete destruction.”

  LAMENTATIONS 3:21-22

  OCTOBER 13

  1:30 p.m.

  “Bree?”

  She bolted upright, eyes blinking in the bright sunlight. A hand touched her arm even as Mark’s voice enfolded her.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She blinked, reality sinking in. She was stretched out on the sleeping bag inside their tent; Mark was crouching beside her. Slow contentment eased across her lips, and she stretched her arms over her head. “Oh, wow. I guess I fell asleep, huh?”