Kaleidoscope Eyes (30 page)

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        

O
CTOBER
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.

O
CTOBER
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 L
ORD
. 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.