“No.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Not after today.”
He lowered his arm and linked hands with her, their fingers intertwined like before. Emma tried to memorize the way it felt, the wonderful sensation of being with Brad this way. Not because she wanted another chance with him, but because this good-bye was so much better than the last one. So much more complete. They turned without looking back and walked slowly, silently along the beach. Their beach. The setting sun cast orange and yellow streaks across the blue, as if God Himself were drawing the curtain on yesterday. It had all come to a close — their guilt and sin and shame. Their time together this weekend.
Everything about the two of them. Finally and fully over.
Too quickly they reached Emma’s driveway. They stood by his Jeep and faced the ocean a final time. Brad still had hold of her hand. “I came here to tell you I was sorry. To make things right with you.” He faced her and took her other hand as well. “But God had much bigger plans.”
“He did.” She smiled at the freedom in her heart and soul. “I found the chance to tell you what really happened … to tell you about our daughter.” She sniffed. “And I found a church.” She felt herself smile. “I think I’m about to find a friendship with Pastor Dave’s wife. And together we found forgiveness.” Her smile faded and she stepped closer to him. For a long moment she let her forehead fall softly against his chest. When she looked up, she wondered if she could really do this … tell Brad Cutler goodbye for all time. She swallowed against the pain that was sure to come. “I found something else too.”
“What’s that?” He linked his arms around her waist, holding her the way he might hold a sister or a close friend. Nothing more. “What did you find, Emma?”
“I found the old you,” she touched the place above his heart. “The one I knew was still there somewhere.”
“Promise me something.” He touched his hand to the side of her face. The sun had finished setting, and dusk was falling around them.
“Anything.” Emma let herself be lost in his eyes this final time.
“I want you to love again. You didn’t tell me … if there’s anyone in your life.”
“There isn’t.” Gavin Greeley’s handsome face filled her mind, and her cheeks felt suddenly hot. “Nothing I’ve allowed, anyway.”
“Allow it, Em. You have to. God’s forgiveness means you have permission to live your life.”
She thought about that, and for the first time ever, the idea appealed to her. Which could only mean that God truly had worked a miracle in her heart. His forgiveness was complete, indeed. “We’ll see.” She tilted her head, not willing to get into details about Gavin here and now. This moment belonged to Brad and her and God. The three of them alone. “Can I pray for you, before you leave?”
Brad looked mildly surprised, but instantly his expression filled with gratitude. “Please.” He held her close, their heads bowed together, cheeks brushing against each other.
“Dear God … I’ve run from You all these years, but now … now I’m ready to live the rest of my life with You. I’ll celebrate life from this point on. Mine and any other life You let me be a part of.” Their good-bye was moments away, and the reality was suddenly sobering. “I pray for my friend, Brad. He’s heading home to a wonderful girl, a girl he loves very much.” Her eyes stung at the thought, but she didn’t cry. “Please be with Laura and help her forgive Brad. Help her understand in a way that draws them closer.” She paused. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Their eyes met again, and Emma felt the miracle still playing out in her heart. Had she really just prayed for Brad’s fiancée? That she would forgive him and understand what this weekend was about? She breathed in deep and took a step back. “Thank you, Brad. For coming here. For risking everything so we could have this time.”
“I told you Friday. I needed to finish this chapter.”
“And you did.” She smiled at him, hiding the ache already spreading through her heart.
“Yes.” He looked intently into her eyes. “Because of you, because you were willing to find forgiveness with me.”
She nodded, wanting to draw out the moment. But it was already over. It was time to admit as much and move on. “You better go.” She pictured him standing at the front of a beautiful church, dressed in a dark tux, waiting for Laura James to walk up the aisle. “Go to her, Brad. Go make things right with her.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look like he wanted to talk about Laura. Again he brushed the side of her face with his fingers. “Thank you. For telling me about Amanda. For taking me to the cross.”
A sound that was part cry, part laugh sounded on her lips. “That was God’s doing. He took us both to the cross.”
“He did.” Brad narrowed his eyes, looking all the way back into the long-ago parts of her heart. Emma had the feeling he was seeing her as she’d been in third grade and in middle school, the way she’d looked her first day at Wilmington High, and the innocence in her face when he handed her back her yearbook in May, 1999. “I’ll miss you.”
“You, too.” She wanted to run into the house before she started crying again. He deserved a happy send-off, one that assured him she understood about his wedding and his Laura. But all she could see as she looked at him was the boy he’d been, the one she’d planned on loving forever. “Brad …” his name came out as a cry, and in a rush she clung to him. For a long time she stayed that way because she didn’t want him to see her tears, and because this was her last chance, the last time she’d ever hold him. Finally she tore herself away and took a step back. “Go. Please, Brad. I can’t do this.”
Only then could she see how very much he still cared, how much he would always care. Because he was crying too. He came to her and hugged her again. “If you’re ever in New York, you can always — ”
“No.” She spoke the word against his chest as she moved away again. Her smile came from the depths of her soul, because this was how she wanted him to remember her. “I won’t look you up, Brad. You go live your life, and I’ll live mine.”
He hesitated, and in all the world there was only the two of them. He reached for her hand once more. “I won’t forget our Amanda.”
She felt the sobs strangling her heart, but she held them off. “Thank you. She deserves that.”
He looked deep into her eyes for a moment she would remember always. Then he tenderly touched her cheek, searching her soul. “I love you. I always will.”
“I love you too.” She held tight to his fingers, and then she let go and backed up toward her house. She raised her hand in his direction. Her aching heart wouldn’t let her speak, so she mouthed one last word. “Bye.”
He did the same, and then with a final look he was gone. As he drove away, she wondered if she might die there on her sandy front lawn. The pain of losing him this time was that great. But instead she forced herself to hold onto the good, the miracle of their time together.
They had found forgiveness and peace and even love. But not the sort of love they’d known before. Even with God’s healing, there was no way to undo the consequences of their actions that November day. No way to love the way they’d loved before. Brad would go home to Laura, and if she would forgive him, in four weeks they would be married. And she would find her way too. A new life that hadn’t seemed possible before this weekend.
Even so, she would never forget him. She would see him when she ran past the white wooden cross, and she’d remember him when she looked through her cardboard box. She would see the wide-eyed boy in the lines of what he’d written in her yearbook, and on occasion when she stopped in the middle of a run on the beach, she would feel his hand at the other end of the rope. And she would see him when she looked at the place where the sea met the sky. Where she would always see him.
In the shades of blue.
Twenty-Eight
BRAD WASN’T SURE HOW FAR HE drove before his tears stopped falling. With all they’d found together these past few days,
he had to allow for the possibility — that he might’ve fallen in love with Emma Landon again. But that wasn’t the type of love he felt for her, not even after all they shared this afternoon.
It wasn’t the type of love she felt for him either. He could see that much in her eyes. They shared a beautiful past and a terrible mistake, a lifetime of regret and a healing that could only have come from God. But he wasn’t in love with her. Not the way he was in love with Laura. With every mile that took him away from Emma, he became more and more consumed with hope and anticipation.
How much he must’ve hurt Laura with this decision. He could only imagine what she’d been thinking, or how she and her parents must’ve felt about him. Either way, he had absolutely needed to do this, to find Emma and finish that part of the story of his life. Like his dad had advised him. He smiled and realized his cheeks were dry. Good old Carl Cutler. The man’s wisdom had changed his life this time. Saved it, even.
Now he could only hope Laura still loved him the way he loved her.
He pulled his BlackBerry from the passenger seat and disconnected it from the charger. Her number was at the top of his favorites list, so he barely needed to glance at the phone to call her. The night was pitch dark around him, the traffic almost nonexistent heading north on Seventeen back to Wilmington. Not like it would be tomorrow night, when the holiday was over.
Her ring-back tone was new, something she must’ve added over the weekend. Brad listened intently, trying to make out the song. I don’t wanna go through the motions … I don’t wanna go one more day … without Your all-consuming passion inside of me… The lyrics were familiar and immediately he recognized the song. Matthew West’s recent hit — “The Motions.”
His heart skipped a beat and he let his hope double. Then just as quickly he reminded himself not to get too excited. A song like this could mean that she was looking to God to get her through the weekend … but it could mean that she needed His help to get her over an inevitable breakup. Answer … please, Laura. Answer the phone.
But after another few lines of the song, the call went to her voicemail. He didn’t want to explain himself or what happened in a message, but he had to give her at least a hint about what he was feeling. At the beep, he grabbed a hurried breath. “Hi … I’m on my way back to my dad’s house. I’m coming home tomorrow to tell you the only thing that matters.” He paused. “I love you, Laura. I want to marry you in four weeks. I hope … I can only hope you feel the same way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He clicked the End button and dropped his phone back on the seat. Maybe he should’ve called her more often while he was gone. But there were moments in the past weekend when he wasn’t in any position to talk to her. Besides, she hadn’t returned his call from Friday. Which meant what? He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead at the red taillights in the distance. Could their relationship really be over? Would he come home to find that she’d cancelled the wedding?
His heart beat faster than usual as he considered the possibility. No, dear God … please help her understand. He pictured Emma praying for Laura — something he hadn’t imagined might ever happen. Certainly if Emma could pray for Laura to forgive him, Laura could understand about Emma, how he’d needed to go back?
Or could she?
His mind hurdled from one side of the fence to the other until he pulled into his parents’ driveway. If Laura was going to call off the wedding, he needed to pray tonight for a way to change her mind. Going back to North Carolina had only made him more ready to marry her.
He felt worn out from the emotion of the weekend, and he was pretty sure his eyes were red from crying down at the beach, near the white wooden cross. But he wasn’t worried about seeing his parents. They wouldn’t ask questions unless he felt like talking. And he didn’t.
It was after nine o’clock as he walked inside. He found his mother folding clothes on the living room sofa, an old Roger Whitaker CD in the stereo. His dad sat across from her, sifting through a basketful of metal items. A trashcan on one side of his chair, a few lone items already inside. “Bradley.” He looked up, but only for a brief moment. Then he returned to his sorting. “Lots of targets on the beach this evening.”
“Your father thinks there’s a nugget of solid gold somewhere in all that junk.” His mom grinned at him and shrugged. “As long as he’s happy.”
“I found a World War II pin and an Australian coin. Vintage 1954.” His dad jabbed his finger in the air. “And I found a good use for that Kotton Kids blanket.” His dad pulled the soft blue cloth from someplace tucked in the chair beside him. “Makes a good polishing rag. I’ll say that much for it.”
Brad took in the scene and chuckled — for the first time all day. “I’m glad it’s good for something.” He moved to his mom’s side and helped her finish folding the load of laundry. “Want coffee?”
“No, thanks.” She looked straight at him. “I didn’t see you last night.”
“I wasn’t here long. I couldn’t sleep.”
“How’s Emma?” Her question was loaded, but that was okay.
Brad didn’t mind. He was slated to get married in four weeks, after all. His mother had the right to ask about Emma. He nodded. “She’s good. We needed this.”
“And,” his mother raised an eyebrow. “Will you see her again?”
This time his dad lowered the Kotton Kids blanket and looked his way too, waiting.
“No.” Brad leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “We both said what we needed to say. God met us in the middle of it all.”
His mom hesitated long enough to search his eyes, his expression. When she must’ve been satisfied with his answer, she smiled at him. “I always liked Emma.” She stood and picked up a stack of dishtowels. “But you’re marrying Laura. There’s a reason for that.”
If she’ll have me, he wanted to say. Instead he waited until his mother was out of the room. Then he crossed the floor and stopped at the trashcan. The bin held a few dozen scrap pieces of metal — tinfoil balls and broken metal pens. A half-missing belt buckle and a number of other unworthy targets — as his dad called them. Brad put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “It was good advice, Dad. Finishing the chapter.”
“Yes.” His father stopped and briefly looked up at him. “You ready for the next one?”
“I am.” He wanted to add that he was praying Laura was ready too. But he didn’t want to alarm his parents. Not until there was an actual reason to be worried.
“The Jeep work out for you?” His father reached for a recipe box stationed near his chair. Organized by category inside were coupons and rebates, reminders of sweepstakes he was still waiting to hear about. “I can get another weekend if you need it. I read the fine print.”
“No, thanks.” Brad smiled at his dad’s thoughtfulness. “I won’t be going back to Holden Beach.”
His father smiled. “Good.” Then his smile faded into a more thoughtful look. “Even if we could get the Jeep for free.” He shrugged. “We’ll find another use for it one way or another.”
“That’s right. One way or another.”
Brad bid his parents good night and turned in. He wanted to sleep well tonight, but as he lay in the dark he remembered the campaign for Kotton Kids. He pictured the photos of the babies around his office, and little Amanda. Precious Amanda. Suddenly the winning slogan was obvious. Kotton Kids — Because You Only Have One Chance to Love.
It was a line parents around the country would go crazy over. Not because it was clever. Because it was true. A sad certainty worked its way through Brad. This was what he’d been looking for, the perfect tagline to build his campaign around. One chance. Brad knew that better now, after spending the weekend with Emma. Through memories of his past with her and the stark reality of all they’d lost at a cold abortion clinic, the reality remained.
One chance to love.
As he fell asleep, he could only pray that somewhere that night Laura James was feeling the same way.
He had done the two things God had asked of him, or at least he’d tried. He had known the good he ought to do, and he’d done it by making amends with God and Emma Landon. And he’d reconciled with her in a way that meant he was free to attempt the one thing he desperately wanted to do.
Return to his gift at the altar.
SUNDAY NIGHT PASSED SLOWLY FOR LAURA. Sometime after she was in bed, she heard her cell phone ring across the room. Whether it was Brad or not, she didn’t want to talk. Not until she could see him in person. Look him in the eyes and tell him exactly how she was feeling.
Her parents had given her plenty of space — asking no questions about her night out with Bella Joy or what she might be feeling about Brad. Even she hadn’t known until late Saturday night. She skipped church that day and spent much of her time in her room — poring over old photo albums and letters from Brad. Then she spent a solid two hours reading from her Bible, studying the Scripture in Luke, chapter 6. Reading it and rereading it and finally writing six pages in her journal over what she thought God was trying to tell her.
Everyone knew Brad was coming home Monday — at least he planned to come home then. And in the morning, when Laura listened to her messages she felt a rush of relief hit her. He still loved her. He was coming home. Now she needed to do her part, otherwise the wedding still might not happen.
Give me strength, God … I can’t be mad at him or ask fifty questions about Emma and his time with her. I have to do what You’ve told me to do. She felt a sense of strength in response. God would help her get through this. Now it was simply a matter of doing it.
She had a key to Brad’s New York flat, because when Brad traveled for business, she watered his plants and fed his cat. As Monday wore on, Laura collected everything she would need and had one of her father’s cars take her into the city. Early that evening, she made it into Brad’s apartment — half an hour before he was due home. Working quickly and carefully she set up what she wanted to do and then she waited. Fifteen minutes became a half hour, and that became forty-five. She wasn’t sure if his plane was late or if the traffic was heavier than usual because of Memorial Day. Either way she would stay.