She was wiping the rag across the bedside table—the place where Max had kept his white Bible—when she saw it.
A small white envelope lay on the floor beneath the table. Michele knit her brow together. How come she hadn't seen it before, when she changed the bedding? She reached down, picked it up, and brought it where she could see it better. The three words scrawled across the front made her breath catch in her throat.
For Mrs. Evans.
Michele made a slow drop to the edge of the bed. Who could it be from? Not from … not from Max's mother, was it? She slid one trembling finger beneath the flap and made a careful tear along the top. Then she pulled a single page from inside, unfolded it, and began to read.
To Mrs. Evans:
Hello. My name is Ramey, and you don't know me. I've been Max's baby-sitter for all of his life. Whenever his mother was out of town on a flight, the boy was with me. During that time I haven't been much of a believer. In fact, I haven't believed in God at all, really.
But now as I watch Max, as I think about the months and years he has ahead, I want to believe, ma'am. With all my heart I want to believe.
Marv Ogle tells me that you and your husband are Christians, the same way Kiahna was a Christian. I've read through some of Kiahna's journal so I might understand Max's situation better, and what I found has given me the beginning of belief. Enough so that I've asked God for a forgiveness miracle for Max.
You see, ma'am, I might not be very educated, but I know it will take a forgiveness miracle for life to work out the way Kiahna and even, I think, God wants it to work out.
The reason I'm writing is because all of this will be hardest on you, Mrs. Evans. You might not have known about Connor and Kiahna's time together. If not, then I'm sure you won't want Max, not at first. He would be a reminder of everything you want to forget.
Michele's hand fell to her lap. She gripped the edge of the bed with her other hand and closed her eyes to ward off the sudden stinging. This … this Ramey woman had known her heart exactly. Her soul was heavy, soaked in sadness as she opened her eyes and found her place on the page.
But I found something in Max's Bible that maybe might help. It comes from a part called 1 John, and it says, “As Jesus laid his life down for us, so we must lay our lives down for other people. Anything else is not really love. Not love for God and not love for people.”
I don't know if that will help you make a decision, Mrs. Evans. But I can tell you this. Max has been the greatest light in my life for all of his seven years. I'm old and my heart won't go on much longer, but I want Max to be in a family where they know the treasure they are getting. Max is a treasure. I'm praying that you will see so for yourself.
Please call me if you have any questions. Again … I'm sorry for whatever pain this has caused you, but Max needs a home. I'd do anything to see that he gets one.
Sincerely,
Ramey Aialea
At the bottom of the letter was the woman's phone number.
Michele reminded herself to exhale. Her hands were shaking so much now that the notepaper made little noises. Okay, God … why? Why do I find this now? What do you want from me?
Daughter … be still and know that I am God. My ways are not yours …
The words were straight from Scripture, a part of the Bible Michele hadn't read for years. But now they blew across her terrified soul like a gentle balm. Again and again they came until her hands were no longer trembling.
When she was finally still, the way God wanted her to be, she read the note one more time. The part about Max's Bible and the words from 1 John sliced at her convictions like a sword. A double-edged sword.
Had she laid down her life for anyone? Ever?
For her children, yes, at one point or another. But that was the definition of parenting, giving away self for the sake of your own. Somehow, Michele was certain that wasn't the meaning of the verse. After all, Jesus had laid down His life for people who mocked Him and spat on Him. People who were cruel and biting and unforgiving.
People like her.
Tears formed a layer over her eyes, and she blinked so she could see the words in the note more clearly. She hadn't cried much these past few weeks, and when she had, the tears had been selfish. Even the night before Max left, her sorrow had been for herself, for the agonizing decision that had been placed squarely on her shoulders.
But this time, the sadness that rose in her heart was nothing but pure God-given remorse.
No, she hadn't laid her life down, not at all. Though Connor had started this ordeal that summer night eight years ago, he was willing to lay his life down whatever way God called him to do it. If that meant taking in Max, then he'd take him. If it meant letting Max go forever, he'd do it.
Even the girls seemed to understand the Scripture better than she did. Yes, they were confused by Max's arrival. But they'd put aside their fears and concerns and uncertainties and almost from the beginning they'd loved him for who he was.
Your ways aren't my ways, God? Does that mean … does that mean Max was never supposed to go? She sniffed and set the note back in the envelope. Then she covered her face with her hands and wept for how wrong she'd been, how blind and cold and selfish.
Ramey's words stayed with her throughout the day. After a few hours she washed her face and reapplied her makeup. She didn't want the girls thinking something else was wrong. But a decision was taking shape in her soul, a decision that felt more right than springtime.
She began making phone calls. By Thursday morning, after Connor left for the airport and his four-day trip, she called the girls into the living room and sat them down. She explained that she was taking another trip, a visit to Hawaii. Her friend Renee would be there in half an hour to stay with the girls until whenever Michele got home.
“Will you see Max, Mommy?” Susan clapped her hands. “Tell him we miss him!”
“But don't be gone very long, okay.” Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip, always the serious one. “I don't like when you're gone.”
Then Michele drew a slow breath. Okay, God … give me the words …
“This is the important part, girls. I have something to tell you about Max …”
Ramey wasn't sure, but she thought maybe this was the miracle she'd been praying for.
Michele Evans was set to arrive at her apartment any minute. Her plane came in at two o'clock, and she hoped to arrive before Max walked home from the bus stop.
Ramey waited in her chair, mulling over the events of the past twenty-four hours. The call from Michele Evans came yesterday afternoon. The woman explained that she hadn't read Ramey's letter until the day before; she found it while she was cleaning Max's room.
“I want to talk to you about laying down my life,” she said on the phone. “Can I come talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Ramey had almost felt the floor buckle beneath her feet. She had to pinch her knee to convince herself she was even having the conversation. But she had to be honest at the same time. “Mrs. Evans, Max's adoption is already underway. I'm not sure what good it'll do now.”
“I'm letting God take care of everything else.” The woman's voice had been strong and sure. “He wants me to come, so I'm coming. I want to know more about Kiahna, I want to see pictures of her and Max, so I can know what the boy has lost.”
Ramey wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, but she told Mrs. Evans by all means come. Now, with only a moment or two before the woman arrived, Ramey took the chance to talk to God again.
Okay, so maybe You do hear me up there. And You must love Max a whole lot, because I'm not much of a letter writer. But this woman says my letter made her want to come. She gave a slow shake of her head. I'm not sure what You're doing, God, but I want a front-row seat to see it happen.
A gentle knocking sound broke the moment. Ramey whispered a hasty good-bye to God, and then changed her mind and asked Him to stick around. As long as possible, actually. She huffed her way to the door, opened it, a
nd before she could welcome her, they looked at each other for a long moment, and then the Evans woman was in her arms. “Thank you, Ramey. Thank you for opening my eyes.”
“Nah …” Ramey drew back first. She batted at an errant tear. “It was nothing.”
“It was, though. It was everything.” The woman stepped inside. “I'm Michele Evans. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.”
Buddy rounded the corner and dropped down on his haunches. The heat from the afternoon made his tongue hang out a bit. “That's Buddy.”
Mrs. Evans walked up to the dog, scratched him behind the ear, and gave a gentle twist on his blue scarf. “He looks like a nice dog.”
“Max loves him to death.” Ramey studied the woman for a minute. “Why didn't Mr. Evans come?”
The woman's face fell a bit. “He doesn't know I'm here.”
Alarm bells went off in Ramey's soul. “Then you can't exactly make a decision about—”
Mrs. Evans held up her hand. “My husband made his mind up about Max a long time ago, Ramey. And I talked to our girls this morning. Our decision is unanimous.”
They talked for a short time before Michele wanted to see pictures of Kiahna and Max. Ramey pointed at the old bookcase. “At the bottom there, the photo albums—they belonged to Kiahna. One is put together from her childhood; the yellow one with the butterfly on the cover has pictures of her and Max.”
The woman took the yellow book and held it up. “May I?”
“Sure.” Ramey struggled around the sofa and joined Michele. A catch sounded in her voice. “They were something together.”
Michele lifted the cover and worked her way through the beginning of the book. “She was very beautiful.” She studied a photo of Kiahna holding baby Max. “I knew she would be.”
“Yes … she could've had any man on the island.” Ramey tapped the photograph. “But she wasn't interested. Not once.”
The Evans woman caught her eye. “How come, Ramey? I thought … I figured she would've had lots of men.”
Ramey fought off the defensiveness for Kiahna that pierced her. The woman's misunderstanding wasn't her fault. All she knew of Kiahna was the affair she'd had with Connor. “You don't know the story? What happened with her and your husband?”
Mrs. Evans's face grew a few shades paler. “No. I … I never wanted to know until now.”
“Kiahna was a rare girl, Mrs. Evans. She was twenty-one when she met your husband, and she'd never been with a man.” Ramey squinted at the photographs, as the story came back.
She told the Evans woman everything, details even she hadn't known until reading Kiahna's journal. How the two of them had met at the airport, and Kiahna had trusted something about him. When the storm came up there wasn't a hotel room anywhere on the island. Kiahna offered her couch only as a way of being kind.
“That's the part I don't understand.” The pain in the Evans woman's eyes was deep and tormented. “She had to know what she was getting herself into.”
“Fair enough.” Ramey nodded her head to the side. “But her journal tells a different story. She was alone; her parents had recently died when she met Connor. He told her he was a Christian, that he shared her devotion to God.” Ramey hesitated. “And he told her he lived alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.” Ramey raised an eyebrow. “He said he was married, but his wife lived in Florida and he lived in LA.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “You know something else? He didn't have on a wedding ring, either.”
“What?” Mrs. Evans ran her tongue over her bottom lip and leaned back, gripping the sofa arm so tight her knuckles turned white.
Poor woman. Ramey waited before going on. Obviously Mrs. Evans's husband hadn't told her the details. Her face was as pale as her knuckles, and anger and hurt no longer took turns with her expression.
Rather, the woman's face was blank, wide-eyed and desperate.
The look of a person in shock.
THIRTY-THREE
Michele's head was reeling.
All this time she'd blamed Kiahna for what had happened. But now … Connor hadn't been wearing his wedding ring? He'd told her he lived alone? She felt a gaping hole in her chest where her heart had been. Was that what he'd been trying to tell her in the days before Max's visit? Even the day she returned from California? He'd said it was all his fault, and now the picture was clear as water.
She looked around Ramey's apartment, desperate for a way to make the room stop spinning. Finally she released her hold on the sofa arm and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She still wanted to lay down her life, but she hadn't expected it to be this painful.
When she opened her eyes, she looked at Ramey. “Kiahna had no idea he was married?”
“Not till it was too late.” Ramey hesitated. “Kiahna wanted to be a doctor, Mrs. Evans. She didn't want love or marriage or kids until after she finished med school.”
“When she found out she was pregnant, why … why didn't she tell Connor?”
“He was a married man, Mrs. Evans. He had no plans to see her again; he told her that much before he left the island. Why would she tell him about the baby?”
“So she never did.”
“Right.” Ramey stared at the photo album. “After Max was born, she had time only for her son and for God.”
Understanding flooded Michele's heart. The poor girl! Alone and pregnant, her dreams of med school shattered. Yes, Connor's revelation after the camping trip had been right on. The affair, the entire mess, was all his fault.
And now …
Now she could choose to forgive him or make him and Max and all of them pay a lifetime for his sins. She could lay down her life in love, or hold tight to it even if it meant living in misery and bitterness the rest of her days. A soft huff sounded in her throat. She'd already made her decision; it was the reason she'd spent the entire day on a flight to Honolulu.
She thought about her conversation with the girls. They had taken it far better than she'd expected, nodding and listening while she talked to them.
“Remember how Max wanted to find his daddy, the one he knew was somewhere out there?”
“Yes.” The girls looked at each other, and then back at her.
“Well, we found out something about that. It turns out that your daddy is Max's daddy, too.”
Susan's reaction was instant. “Really! Great, Mom! That means Max has to come back here and be our brother, right?”
A frown shaded Elizabeth's eyes. “So Daddy did love Max's mommy?”
Michele could do nothing but be honest. “For a short time, yes.”
That seemed to be all the information they needed. Whatever had gone on with Max's mother and their father, the details didn't matter. Their daddy had always been there for them, would always be there. If it meant Max was their brother now, then all the better.
“Will he come live with us?” Elizabeth's eyes danced with the beginning of a smile. “I think he should, Mom. If he's our brother and Dad's his daddy.”
There it was; the simple childlike love that had open arms no matter the situation.
“I want him to. But you both need to pray, okay?”
They agreed to pray, and that was that. Discussion closed. The details she and Connor had fretted about prior to Max's visit were laid out and accepted in as much time as they might've decided what to eat for dinner that night.
The memory of that morning dissolved, and Michele kept flipping pages in the yellow photo album, stopping at certain key shots. Near the back of the book she saw one of Max and Kiahna holding hands at the beach next to Buddy. The photo was taken on a day that must've been not long before her death. Max's hair was windblown, his cheeks tanned from a day in the sun. Kiahna wore a tank top and shorts, and a smile that told the world how she felt about the little boy beside her.
Max had been Kiahna's whole world. She'd made one mistake and paid for it all her life, growing closer to God, teaching Max about the ways of faith, and spending as m
any hours in the air as it took to take care of her precious son.
Michele shifted her gaze to Max's image and the look in his eyes. It showed a tender mix of confidence and faith, a trusting that his happy world would keep on that way forever. Beside him, even Buddy looked content with life. Max's love for his dog was clear. He had his hand on the dog's collar, and the dog was leaning into him.
Michele studied the boy, surrounded by all he loved most.
Then in one awful morning everything changed.
Michele could have hidden herself in a hole for the way she'd treated Max while he was with them. If only she'd known this part of the story before … Michele swallowed back a wave of emotion. This wasn't the time. She had too much work to do.
“Okay, I need your help, Ramey.” Michele closed the photo album and locked eyes with Ramey. “Tell me about the couple, the one that wants to adopt Max.”
“They were nice enough.” Ramey made a grunting sound and brushed her hand in the air. “But the lady's allergic to dogs.”
“No Buddy?” God's ways grew another degree clearer.
Ramey shook her head. “The man said dogs were out of the question.” Ramey was breathing hard. She waited until she had control again. “I thought what with Max running out of the room, that they'd change their mind. Maybe agree to keep Buddy outside or something.”
“They didn't?”
“No. They thought Max would get over it, adapt or something.”
Michele looked at the clock on the wall. According to Ramey, Max would be home in a matter of minutes. “Ramey, I need a favor.”
“Whatever I can do.” She coughed twice, and her face stayed red.
“I need you to call Mr. Ogle and ask if we can do something drastic.”
The older woman seemed to hold her breath. “Drastic?
“Yes. I need him to stop the adoption.”
Max walked home from the bus stop with Jerry from the apartments 'cross the street. Ramey was more tired now, so she couldn't come get him like she used to, but that was okay, even on hot days like this one. As long as he could go back to her and Buddy he would walk a hundred miles.