Authors: Kimberley Woodhouse
But Daddy
had
been a great example. He had prayed for tons and tons of people all the time and truly meant it. He read his Bible every morning with me, he had done devotions with me and taught me why it was important to live for God, fully and completely, he . . .
I gasped.
He betrayed God!
Did that mean he wasn't in heaven? Had he been pretending? Did God try to get Dad to follow him? Did He think Dad was like Judas? A betrayer?
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I clenched my fists. My chest burned as I realized I'd been holding my breath. I clamped my teeth tight at the untamed anger bubbling higher and higher.
I hate you, Daddy. I never should have trusted you.
COLE
9:30 a.m.
"I need a favor." Cole spoke in hushed tones into the receiver.
His longtime military buddy was quick to respond. "Sure thing, man. Whatcha need?"
"A couple of private bodyguards. Have some valuable items that need protection."
"Clearance?" The code words were understood.
"As high as you can get. FBI will probably be stepping in eventually."
I hope.
Cole didn't know who Marc had contacted, and wasn't ready to trust just anyone. "Get me the best you've got. Guys you can trust."
"I'm on it."
"How long?"
"Gimme a couple hours."
"Don't use my old cell, I'll call with a new number today." Cole slid his hand through his hair. "Don't let anyone know you've heard from me."
"Got it." His friend's voice changed. "Dude, be careful. I saw it on the news."
Cole watched a nurse who'd been scribbling on a sheet of paper at the station. "Thanks, gotta run." He hung up the phone and walked past the nurse, checking her ID as he strode by. Then turned back around. "Can you get me security?"
"Yes, sir." She picked up the phone. "Is there a problem?"
"No, I just need to speak with them, please."
He wouldn't let his guard down again. There were already too many mistakes made. It was his fault.
"Here you are, sir." She offered him the phone.
"This is Major Maddox. I need to speak with the head of your security for the hospital. In person."
JENNA
10:08 a.m.
A short tap on the door put Jenna's senses on high alert. She glanced at Anesia. Her friend hurried to intercept their visitor.
"Mrs. Gray?"
Anesia allowed the security guard to enter.
"Major Maddox has alerted us to your situation. He asked me to guard your door until he returns."
"Okay." Jenna's heart hammered in her chest. "Y-yes. Thank you."
The man stepped back into the hallway and shut the door.
Anesia crossed her arms over her chest as she approached the hospital bed. "He must care for you a great deal."
Jenna's head snapped to attention. "What do you mean?"
"This Cole . . . I've seen how he looks at you. And you him."
"Oh, that. I don't know what to think. Or what to feel."
"He's trying to protect you, that much I can see. He seems honorable. But I sense deep pain in him."
"I believe he
is
honorable. But the circumstances surrounding this . . . this mess . . . have confused me more than once. And I'm scared." She leaned down to kiss Andie's head. Her daughter hadn't spoken since she explained about Marc.
"I must admit this is more than I expected. But don't worry, it'll all work out. Fear can sometimes help us to reach deep inside and find we've got more guts than we thought."
Jenna smiled and shook her head. "You, my friend, make me laugh. Reminds me of camping in the Arrigetch Peaks when those sos cubs wandered in to check out our food. You had no fear. Not even when the mama bear came at you."
Anesia chuckled. "Those cubs were precious. I just wanted a closer picture."
"We've been around bear all our lives, but that grizzly put the fear of God in me!"
"See? Exactly."
"Point taken." She eyed her friend. "In all seriousness, thanks for coming."
"You're welcome."
All banter was gone. "Since Marc died . . . well—"
"Hush. I know."
"Auntie Jenna?" Zoya laid a hand on her arm.
"Yes?"
"I get scared every time we get ready for a new race. But Andie always comes over and prays with me, then the fear is gone."
"You know what?" She squeezed her daughter in her arms, and grabbed Zoya's hand. "You're right. Time we handed this over."
COLE
11:01 a.m.
His long legs ate up the corridors of the hospital. Searching for a way to escape his anger and uproar of emotions, he continued to stalk the hallways. Why did he have to go and get attached? His carefully guarded façade had served him quite well all these years. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
What he really needed was a good, long run. But he couldn't leave the hospital right now. The girls still needed protection. But could he even face them right now? Andie's face had said it all. He'd broken her trust. Shattered her sweet spirit.
It was all his fault.
And Jenna. She would probably never speak to him again. Not after he'd kept the truth from her all that time. He deserved to be punished. Banished from them. Just rip his heart out now. He could take it. At least then the pain would be bearable.
He wandered for several minutes until his feet brought him to a door with a cross beside it. Before he could argue with himself, he walked into the quiet chapel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
COLE
April 12
Providence Hospital
Anchorage, Alaska
11:48 a.m.
The plush carpet absorbed the sound of his steps. Feeling drawn to the front—like a magnet pulled him—Cole strode to the altar. The simple furnishings were draped with a purple tablecloth, flames from candles put off a soft, glowing light. Everything seemed to exude hope. That all would be okay. That blind trust was the answer.
He shook his head. How? He was used to control. Plans. Missions. Planting his hands on his hips, he stared at a statue of Jesus. "Who are You?"
"You need anything, son?"
Cole snapped his attention to the voice behind him.
"Can I help?" A man dressed in slacks and golf shirt approached, a small leather book in his left hand.
Turning his attention back to the statue, he pulled his thoughts together. "I don't think so."
"I'm a chaplain. Scott Murphy." The man nudged Cole's elbow with his hand. "Would you like to talk about it?"
He turned around and gripped the man's hand. What could it hurt? Maybe Andie and Jenna's God had heard his question and sent this guy.
Yeah, right.
Cole sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. The chaplain just sat beside him and waited. Didn't say a word.
Guess I asked for it.
He glanced up at the ceiling. If God was orchestrating this, maybe he should pay attention. Maybe. "I've never had much use for God. In fact, I've been pretty mad at Him for a long time."
"All right. So what brought you in here today?"
"A twelve-year-old girl whose faith is so real, I feel like I could reach out and touch it."
The guy laughed. "Don't we wish we all had faith like that."
"I wish it were that easy." Sarcasm came without effort at this point.
"And you think it's not?" The chaplain wasn't accusatory, just to the point.
"I don't know, sir. How can anything be easy?"
"Call me Scott. And that's the beauty of it. It really is that easy. We are the ones who make it complicated."
Cole chewed on that one for a few minutes. He often longed for the same hope and joy that Andie portrayed. But it was more comfortable when she'd been mad at him, because then he didn't have to care and he deserved the anger. He didn't deserve hope or joy or love. Not after all he'd done.
"Faith isn't seeing or doing, planning or achieving. It's believing. Plain and simple."
"But I've lost so much, how can I reconcile the fact that God made so many terrible things happen?"
Scott gripped the book with both hands. "You really believe that? That God
made
all the bad things in your life happen? Sounds to me like you want someone to blame."
Irritation surged, but then faded. Okay, so maybe the guy was right. But shouldn't he be allowed to blame someone? "And I'm sure you're going to sit there and tell me that God is all love and happiness? How can I justify that when He took away everyone I loved?"
"If you're so sure about who God is, and what I'm going to say, then why are you here? Why are you so angry?" Scott leaned back in his chair, looking like he was settling in for a casual conversation.
The man's calm exterior rattled Cole. This chaplain wasn't pulling any punches, but he spoke with kindness. And truth. Cole clenched his fists, wanting to run the man over with his anger, but found himself spilling his guts instead. "Because I want what that little girl has, but I can't get past the fact God took my wife and daughter away from me. Even if I deserved that punishment,
they
didn't deserve to die."
"Ah, so now we're getting to the crux of the matter."
"Yeah, God killed my family." He couldn't help the bitterness spewing out of his mouth.
"No. You feel guilty. And to cover up the pain, you're blaming God."
"What?" Cole jerked his head around to the man, barely restraining himself from planting a fist square on the good chaplain's nose.
Scott just sat there, looking calm and collected. "You're contradicting yourself." He leaned forward. "God's an easy target. On one hand, you don't want to believe in Him or admit that there is a Creator, a Higher Power, because then you'd realize there's Someone bigger than yourself. On the other hand, when things go wrong, it's easier to blame it all on Someone you can't see. Someone you're
then
willing to say is all-powerful and all-controlling as long as you can say
He
caused everything bad that happened. 'Cause then, you're not responsible for your actions. In essence, you're saying
no one
is responsible for his or her actions. And that way you don't have to look inside yourself for the
real
source of your pain."
Cole turned away and leaned his arms on the altar. Was that what he'd done? "So you're saying I'm selfish?"
"We all are." Scott sighed. "And we all need a Savior. Even you. Not a god of convenience. A God of truth and love."
Cole wanted to accept what the man was saying, but it was easier to stay angry at God. And himself.
"You'll never have the peace you're so desperately searching for until you trust in Him." The chaplain's BlackBerry chimed. He pulled it out of the holster on his hip and checked the screen. "I'm sorry, son. I need to go." He reached into his back pocket and then handed Cole a card. "Here's my number in case you want to talk."
Cole nodded.
Scott Murphy walked out the door, leaving Cole alone with his thoughts. As he sat back down, he flipped the card over and over in his hands.
No. He couldn't have what Andie and Jenna had. Peace belonged to people like them. Good people. Sweet, loving people. But for him?
Not in a million years.
ANDIE
12:32 p.m.
"Auntie Anesia?" My voice cracked.
God, please help me. Please let Cole forgive me for what I've done. Please help me to forgive myself.
"Yes,
Syats'ae?
"
I smiled. I loved her special name for me. It helped ease my swirly stomach.
I took a deep breath, like that would make all of the tension inside disappear.
Here it goes.
"Will you and Zoya help me find Cole? I have some apologies to make."
That was the hard part. Now I just have to ask him to forgive me, and not cry when he tells me he can never forgive a bad, stubborn, and angry kid like me. Yeah . . . it'll be easy. Piece of cake.
Oh! Who am I kidding?
Zoya grabbed my hand, her gaze shifting to Auntie. "Can we?"
Auntie Anesia turned to Mom.
"Andie . . . are you sure you have enough strength?" Her eyes held worry, but conveyed that she understood.
I sighed. "I really need to see Cole. Will you help me?"
Mom and Auntie shared a look.
"Okay, Andie, but I'm going to get a wheelchair. I don't want you walking around and I'm sure the doctor would agree. I think I know where Cole went. Hopefully we won't be out for long."
"Why don't you take the guard?" Mom gave Auntie another look.
"Don't worry, girl. I'm armed." Auntie winked at me, then turned back to Mom. "Besides, you need him. I have a feeling I know what Andie needs to do. Trust me."
She came back with a wheelchair and helped me get into it. It was fun avoiding the IV pole and trying not to knock it over.
Let the games begin.
As we headed out the door I looked back at Mom. I could tell she was worried about us going out without protection, but then again Auntie Anesia had fought off more than one thug. I bet she still had her Maglite in that humongous purse of hers. She always did. We would be safe. Nobody could get past Auntie Anesia.
Zoya and Auntie seemed to know where they were going.
I didn't.
In fact, I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know.
We passed rooms, rooms, rooms, and more rooms. Doors, doors, doors, and more doors. Lobbies and desks. I was getting more fidgety by the minute.
Will he accept my apology?
As we walked through a tunnel, we passed two doors. The door of "Turn Around" and the door of "Keep Going." I was leaning toward the door of Turn Around.
Well, I guess he's not here. Time to go back!
"Here we are."
Oh, snap!
Wait . . . what?
I stared at the little wooden plate hanging on the wall. "The chapel? You must be thinking of the wrong guy, Cole wouldn't go to the chapel."
Would he?
Auntie nodded. "I saw him walk in here earlier. Let's go."
Go Back? Great idea!
Auntie opened the door and Zoya wheeled me in.
Okay, never mind then.
Someone sat in the front pew. Broad shoulders . . . brown hair. Cole.