She tried to keep her mind on school and the final week before summer and the gift Kristin was putting together for her. But no matter what she tried, her mind found its way back to the same place. The stretch of sand right here on Holden Beach where she and Brad fell in love. Where they said good-bye. And like every other time she thought about him, she settled on the same sad reality. She missed him deeply, even though she hated him for leaving her, for never looking back. She still missed him.
No matter how far she ran, that much would never change.
B
RAD WAS GLAD HE’D WORN HIS
suit jacket to the Wednesday Kotton Kids meeting. Anything to give him an edge at a time when he couldn’t have felt less prepared. His presentation was coming up and he had a feeling he’d barely breathe through the whole thing.
No problem
, he told himself. He could be nervous as long as he hid it from the others.
The meeting opened with Kotton Kids President, Al Cryder, making small talk with Brad’s boss, Randy James. They talked about the two grandbabies due in the Cryder family this summer and about Brad and Laura’s impending wedding. Randy pulled an engagement photo from his wallet and slid it across the table. “There they are. The happy couple.”
Al was a big guy, who looked even bigger in his western suit, ostrich boots, and dark suede ten-gallon cowboy hat. His company might’ve have been about going green, but that didn’t mean Al was about to lose his Texas image. He sized up the picture appreciatively. “Stunning.” He grinned at Brad. “There must be hearts breaking all over the city.”
Brad smiled, not quite sure what the older gentleman meant. “Yes, sir.”
“You know why, right?” The man had a big voice and an even bigger ego.
“I know.” Randy laughed out loud and grinned big at Brad. “Look at the two of you. Together you must’ve broken a hundred hearts, right, Al?”
“Exactly.” He nodded at Brad. “You sure your last name’s not Pitt? Those movie-star looks probably make people wonder if they should ask for an ad campaign or an autograph.”
Brad appreciated the diversion. Anything to keep a positive feel to the meeting, especially since his presentation had so little in the way of substance. “Laura’s the one who looks like a movie star. People say so all the time.” He looked at Randy. “Isn’t that right?”
“You’re both striking.” Randy leaned back in his seat. “The wedding’s at the Liberty House in the state park.”
“I know the place.” Al slipped a cigar case from his suit pocket, pulled out a single cigar, and stuck it between his teeth. He didn’t light it. “One of my kids looked into it. Spectacular views.”
Brad made a mental note that Al Cryder liked cigars — lit or unlit.
“We’ve got fireworks planned. The whole deal.” Randy grinned. “I can’t wait.”
The conversation fell into a natural lull, and Brad felt the unspoken cue. It was his turn. He drew a silent breath and stood, walking to the near end of the room where an easel was set up with a series of oversized posters. The top one read simply, Kotton Kids Presentation.
“Let’s get to the matter at hand.” Brad flipped the first poster to the back of the easel.
Okay, God … help me. Please. I’m not ready for this
. He exhaled, steadying himself. “I’d like to go over the various facets of our plan, the scope and breadth we’re prepared to bring to this campaign.” The words came easily. This was the part of wooing a client Brad never struggled with. “We’ll create three tiers of implementation. The first, of course, is our campaign slogan.”
Brad felt a fine layer of perspiration build across his forehead. He ignored it, ignored the way Randy watched him intently, waiting for him to unveil the brilliance he was known for. Another deep breath. “In this case, I’m still honing the exact slogan.” He moved to the next poster. Across it were written the only words he’d come up with so far. “At this point we’ll use our working slogan, ‘Kotton Kids — Because Your Baby Deserves the Best.’ ”
Al Cryder nodded, his brow furrowed. “I like it. We need more, though.” He looked at Randy. “Don’t you think, James? Something a little different to set us apart?”
“Definitely.” Randy laughed, that confident sort of chuckle meant to assure a client that he and his company were fully in control. “Brad’s a genius. He’s just getting started on this.”
“That’s right. Just the beginning.” Brad wondered if they could see his knees trembling. He kept his tone controlled, confident as he flipped the slogan poster to the back of the easel. “The next tier, of course, is branding. Colors, textures, an advertisement feel that will keep the consumer connected to Kotton Kids.”
He winged his way through that section of the presentation. Muted colors, real babies in sepia tones, gentle music. Despite his lack of direction, he gained ground with Tier Two. “We’re talking about creating an experience, a feel with this campaign,” he told Al. “Parents will see the parents and babies — whether on TV or in print — and they’ll want to have that experience with their own kids. They’ll believe that only with Kotton Kids’ organic clothing and blankets will their personal moments measure up to what they see in the ads.”
“Nice. Very nice.” Al bit down on his cigar a few times. He tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “You’re sharp, Brad. I’m sure your future father-in-law is glad about that.”
The meeting continued another twenty minutes through Tier Three — geographical areas where they should best focus their attention, and eventually Brad felt himself relax. He’d survived — this round at least. They set up another meeting for two weeks out, on Wednesday, June 2. Brad was grateful for the respite, but the time would pass quickly. Especially with the wedding plans and everything else interrupting his thoughts. He would have to come to the next meeting ready to wow Al Cryder, or they could lose the account. No matter how well today went. Al was a professional, a cunning businessman who had seized a niche in the market with his Kotton Kids line. He would only be pacified with promises and planned tiers for so long.
Al shook his hand before he left. “Brad … I’m expecting great things when we see each other again.”
“Definitely.” Brad kept his cool, his composure. “I think you’ll be very pleased.”
“You will.” Randy chuckled again. He patted Al on the back as if they were best friends, merely catching up for an afternoon. “Brad’s the best in the business.”
“I hear that.” Al narrowed his eyes, the unlit cigar still clenched between his teeth. “What are some other campaigns you’ve worked on?”
Randy answered. “Finley Grilling System … Wesley Bedding … Orion Steel Cookware … Way Cool Lunch Snacks.” Randy gave a dramatic shake of his head. “Everything he touches turns to gold.”
Al nodded appreciatively. “Very successful campaigns.”
“Yes.” Randy directed Al out of the room and down the hall. As they walked toward the building exit, Randy was still raving about Brad, about the magic he could work with an ad campaign.
Brad waited until they were out of sight before he felt his shoulders slump forward. He slipped into his office, walked to the wall of glass across the room, and leaned against it.
God … what’s wrong? May 15 th is behind me. So why does my heart still hurt?
Again he heard no answer, but a song came to mind. An old hymn he used to sing as a boy when he and his parents went to church each Sunday.
Create in me a clean heart, O God … And renew a right spirit within me.
He thought back, thought about the words of the hymn. They were from a Scripture, right? Somewhere in the Bible.
He left the window, sat down at his desk, and opened one of the drawers on the right side. The place where he kept his Bible. But as he reached for it, his eyes fell on something else instead. An envelope tucked in along the inside of the drawer. It held the contents from his old briefcase, the one he’d used right out of college. Old photos and business cards. He hadn’t looked through it in years, but now … now it was calling to him more loudly than Scripture.
With tentative fingers, he tugged at the envelope, pulling it free from the other contents in the drawer. Gently he sifted out the contents on the surface of his desk, and then, without warning, he saw it. The photo he thought might still be there.
The picture of Emma Landon.
He didn’t want to touch it, as if by letting his fingers come in contact with the photo paper he might rekindle a feeling he could never escape. Leaning over the image, he stared at her, studied her. His first love, his Emma. Eventually he lost the battle and he picked up the picture, drawing it near so he could see her more clearly.
Was this the problem, the reason he couldn’t think clearly? Emma Landon? He held tight to the photo and returned once more to the full-size window. He gripped the heavy wooden frames and stared out onto the street below. Laura had asked him if the wedding was troubling him, and he’d answered her honestly. The wedding wasn’t the problem.
He was. He understood that clearly now.
A small plaque caught his eye, a framed Scripture verse he’d bought for himself when he started working at the ad agency. It read, “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins. — James 4:17.”
He’d bought it because in the fast-paced life of a Manhattan advertisement firm, wrong decisions were easy. But if he stayed close to God’s Word, Brad would always know the good he ought to do. The framed verse was a reminder that doing the right thing wasn’t optional. It was his calling. In advertising and in life. But then why hadn’t he done the right thing with Emma? No apology or phone call, no going back to make things right. Not once over the last ten years. As if he could push her and the guilt of what happened aside and somehow get over it.
What did that say about him? And how could he move forward when he’d left so much of his past unresolved? Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He would call Jack Reynolds. Jack was a friend of his from church, a Christian counselor. Brad could at least take the questions to him. Brad looked up Jack’s number on his BlackBerry and hit the Send button.
His friend answered on the second ring. “Jack, here.”
“Hey … Brad Cutler. Sorry to call you during business hours.”
“No worries. I was coming back from lunch.” There was the sound of city traffic in the background. “What’s up?”
Brad decided to come at it from a different angle. “Okay, so I have this situation.”
“Okay.”
Brad didn’t want to get into details. “You know how I’m getting married this summer?”
“Of course.” Jack sounded serious.
“Laura’s great. Everything’s okay with us.” He could hardly believe he was voicing this. “It’s actually … I mean, this is crazy but … I had this girlfriend a decade ago. We dated through high school, that sort of thing.” His stomach hurt. He rubbed his temples and tried to condense the story as best he could. “Anyway, I’m thinking about her a lot, about how things ended.”
“Okay.” Jack’s voice was calm, but still concerned. “Do you have feelings for her?”
“No, no.” Brad’s heartbeat sped up. “Nothing like that. It’s just … it didn’t … things didn’t end well. I owe her an apology, but I never … it never happened.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Yeah, more than that.” Brad exhaled. “I keep thinking maybe I can’t move forward with Laura until I go back … I don’t know, maybe find her. Make things right so I can put it behind me.”
“I see.” He had Jack’s full attention, no doubt. “Does Laura know?”
Brad felt sick to his stomach. “Not yet. I guess … I don’t want to make things worse. Dig up the past with my old girlfriend. You know, like maybe an apology would only make things worse for everyone.”
“Hmmm.” He must’ve moved in off the street, because the sound of traffic was gone. “Every situation is different, and since I don’t know the background or what you’re apologizing for, I can only talk in generalities.”
“Right. That’s what I’m looking for.” Brad’s heart thudded against his chest.
“Generally, people seeking forgiveness must first seek God’s forgiveness, and then they must forgive themselves. And yes, sometimes — if the situation allows — part of the healing is finding the person you offended even after a very long time. Making an apology face-to-face.”
“So I should talk to her?” Brad’s mind was racing. “I mean, if I can find her?”
“If it’s possible — and a lot of times it isn’t — then yes. Forgiveness between two people can be very healing. Sometimes it’s the first step to moving on. Especially when you’re about to start this next chapter of your life.” Jack hesitated. “But it’s a risk. Laura would have to be on board, or she could misunderstand your motives.”
Brad felt his world slipping off its axis. “Exactly.”
“Of course there’s always the other risk.”
“Which is?”
“You could fall in love with this old girlfriend again.”
“That won’t … that’s not what this is about.”
“Like I said, I can only talk in generalities. If Laura understands and you feel this strongly about making an apology, I’d definitely consider it. It’s never good to start a marriage with unresolved former relationship issues. Even if seeking forgiveness in this case might not be the safest decision.”
Brad wanted to explain there was nothing dangerous about saying he was sorry. The idea of him having feelings for Emma again was crazy, impossible. Nothing could pull him away from Laura. But Jack was the counselor, and he’d probably seen this sort of thing before. Going back to Emma Landon wouldn’t be without risk.
He appreciated Jack not pushing to find out the specifics. They saw each other at church, so Brad didn’t want Jack knowing more than he’d already said. “Hey, thanks, buddy. That helps.”
“Anytime.” Again Jack seemed content to let the conversation be. “See you Sunday.”
“Yeah. See ya.”
The realization of Jack’s advice settled in around him, and he felt the hurt in his heart double. The problem plaguing him, the heaviness keeping him from his creative best had nothing to do with Laura or their plans to marry. He lifted the photo and stared at it again. It was him. He knew the right he was supposed to do, but he’d buried it all these years. He’d pushed the truth aside through his college days while he immersed himself in his studies and found his way back to God, and again as he made a name for himself in the business world. He knew what he should’ve done ten years ago and he knew it now. Especially after talking to Jack. The fact was he hadn’t done the good and right thing. He’d avoided doing it all these years. The eyes in the picture stared back at him. His precious Emma. How come he couldn’t imagine even a single moment of closure for the two of them? Had he really just walked away, just packed up his Honda and his heartache and never looked back?