“While you ate?” Brady’s tone was kind, his frustration with God seemingly on hold for now.
“Yes.” She turned to him. “The Psalms tell about the Word of God being like honey. My dad used to say a few minutes in the Bible was like dessert.”
“Hmm.” Brady’s expression grew softer. “Must have been a good dad.”
“He was.” She looked at the box again. “That bookmark was my mom’s. She loved to read. Her mother gave it to her when she was a little girl.”
“Must’ve been hard to let it go.” Sadness crept into Brady’s tone. “For the memorial.” He moved closer. The heat from his body warmed her.
She told him about the other items. The key chain and a dried flower her dad had given her mother the day Jenna was born. The pictures didn’t need explaining. They showed the reality of Jenna’s former life. Happy couple. Happy little girl.
All of life ahead of them.
There was one more piece, one more truth he had to hear. She looked deep into his eyes. “Every day without my parents I want to remember . . . that God alone lets me live in the healing. I’m a survivor because of Him. Because He has my parents safe in heaven and one day . . .” Her voice broke. She blinked back the new tears . Let him hear this, please. “One day I’ll be with them again. And when that time comes, I want the people I love . . . to be there, too.”
Quiet fell over the moment. She didn’t want to move on from here. What could she say? There was no way around the goodbye ahead.
Brady broke the silence first. “My mom . . . she believed.” He looked from the glass box to Jenna. His voice fell to barely a whisper. “Look where it got her.”
Jenna understood. Without a different view of the heartache in the world, it was impossible to understand how a great and loving God could allow tragedy on earth. Scripture offered a chance to make sense of it all. But it was never easy. Even for her. She breathed in, thinking of a way to respond. “She’s with Him now. She’s having the happiest time, so happy we can’t even imagine it.”
He considered that for a long moment. Then he did a slight shrug. “I don’t know, Jenna. I’m not sure.”
“I am.” Her answer was quick. “You know what your mother is doing right now?” She didn’t wait for his response. “She’s praying for you. That you’ll see each other again one day.”
Brady flexed his jaw. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t speak it.
They walked together to his mother’s glass memory box. “To the moon and back.” He put his hand over the top of the container and his gaze seemed to fall on the page with the childlike artwork. “I drew that for her just before she died.”
Tears filled her eyes again. “I’m sorry, Brady.” She paused. “For both of us.” This would probably be the last time Jenna visited the memorial. She didn’t like thinking of her parents here. She liked thinking of them in heaven.
With Brady’s mom.
He released her fingers and turned to her. His eyes were full of love and hurt. “Why, Jenna?” He seemed to search for the place in her soul where the answers lived. “Why is it so important that I believe?” He put his hand on her cheek, his fingers in her hair. “I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t turn and run. Couldn’t do anything to stop the way her heart was breaking. Brady Bradshaw actually loved her after all this time. The whole scene felt like something from a dream, except for one thing. This wasn’t a beginning.
It was an ending.
And suddenly nothing could’ve kept them apart. She closed the distance between them and said the only words that mattered in this moment. “I love you, too, Brady.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I always will.” She struggled to speak. “I always have.”
“Then why?” His voice was broken, as if he was completely unable to make sense of what was happening.
She had no words. Not now. Not here. Brady leaned in and in a blur of the most wonderful, most gut-wrenching seconds, he kissed her. Here, in the exact spot where he had almost kissed her years ago. Like they’d come full circle.
Their tears mixed and the taste was salty on her lips.
Another kiss and then Jenna pulled back a few inches. “Brady . . . I can’t.” She stared at the ground and then at him. “Please . . . can we leave?”
His hand was still on the side of her face. But gradually his expression showed the beginning of defeat. He nodded, searching her eyes. “Okay.”
They were headed toward the door, when Jenna saw the wall. The one with the time stamp engraved on it. Suddenly she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not until she’d explained herself a little better. “Wait. I want to show you something.”
“Jenna . . .” He stopped and crossed his arms. Like he couldn’t stand to draw out this terrible goodbye for another minute.
“Please, Brady . . . it’s important.” She led the way outside to the survivor wall, the one she’d visited last time she was here. Even if he’d seen it a dozen times, she wanted him to see it again.
When they were standing in front of the cracked slab of concrete, she pointed to his name—engraved with the others who had lived through the bombing. “See.”
Brady looked confused. “What? My name?” He shrugged. “So?”
“So . . .” She turned to him and searched his eyes. Please, God, let him get this. “You’re a survivor, Brady. It says so right there in that piece of the building. God let you survive.” She paused, letting the weight of this hit him. “And He did that for a reason.”
She felt the key around her neck and in that instant she knew what she had to do. She looked around and spotted a bench nearby. “Can we sit here . . . for a minute?”
“Why?” He took a step back. “I mean, Jenna . . . what’s the point?”
She felt terrible. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again. But there was no way back. She would do this one last thing for Brady, then she would say goodbye. Forever. Because of her love for God she’d found the superhuman strength to do something she wasn’t sure she could ever do.
Push Brady away.
She found her voice. “After all we’ve been through . . . I can’t leave without giving you something.”
He stared at her for a minute, looking like he had just lost his best friend. “Okay.”
This was hard for him. Hard for both of them.
His hesitation didn’t last long. With a slight sigh of what seemed to be resignation, he reached for her hand once more. It was one thing to stop him from kissing her, but she wouldn’t resist him taking her hand. When their fingers were together, their hearts were, too. That had been true from the beginning.
Jenna sat on the bench and Brady did the same. Their knees and shoulders were touching. She took a slow breath. “Do you remember what the time stamp on the wall stands for?”
“The 9:01?” He clearly knew the memorial grounds well. “There are two walls, Jenna.”
“Not that one.” If only she could fix the brokenness inside him. “We can’t go back to 9:01. None of us can.” She hesitated. “I’m talking about the other wall.”
Brady nodded slowly and looked at the wall at the other end of the pool. “I know it.” He sat a little straighter, almost as if he were squaring off with the wall. Like the two of them were enemies somehow. After a long moment he shook his head. “I never got there. 9:03.”
Give me the words, God, please. Help him hear me in his heart. She held her key necklace and looked from it to Brady. “You said you liked my necklace. Look at it.”
A quick hesitation and then gently he took the key and stared at it. The realization hit him all at once. She could see it in his eyes. He nodded slowly and lifted his face to hers. “The minute healing began.” He looked at the key again. “You live in 9:03. Life after the bombing.”
“Yes.” She blinked back her own tears. The story needed to be shared. “I had returned to God before I met Dan. I met him at church, so I thought he believed the way I did. The way my par
ents did.” She caught a tear with her fingertips and tried to focus. “But in the months after we married, I found out he didn’t. He only pretended to believe in God.”
Brady was listening. His expression held a layer of sympathy that hadn’t been there before.
The sun was hot overhead, but Jenna barely noticed. “Dan stopped going to church with me, stopped wanting to talk about the Bible.” She could picture herself back then, married and alone. “I thought he might be having an affair with one of our neighbors. But before I could figure it out, he was gone.” She blinked back another wave of tears. “I never heard from him again.”
For a while Brady said nothing. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She sniffed and shook her head. “I’ve been over him for a long time. I’m at peace.” This was the part she wanted him to understand. “But after he left, I made God a promise. I said I’d never fall in love with an unbeliever again. Never.”
Brady’s understanding was instant. He released her hand. “So that’s it.” He nodded and folded his hands. For a long moment he stared at the ground. Then he looked at her. “I get it.” His hint of a smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You made a promise to God. So I’m not the guy.”
He looked off, but after a few seconds he turned to her again.
“Jenna, I would do anything to keep you here with me.” He leaned closer, looking into the deepest places of her soul. “I would say anything.” He hesitated. “But I will never lie to you.” The hurt in his eyes intensified. “I don’t believe. I can’t.”
His words were like so many bullets. But she ignored them. There was something she had to do.
The key was still between her thumb and forefinger, her eyes on his. “This is called a Giving Key. It’s meant to be given away.” She paused. “I bought it because I hoped . . . I prayed . . . that one day we’d find each other and . . . and you’d believe in God again.” She wiped another tear.
He seemed to feel the news to his core. Any slight smile faded, and he clenched his jaw. “I’m not there, Jenna. I’m sorry.”
Her tears came harder now. With her fingertips she dabbed beneath her eyes. “I understand.” Composure, Jenna. You can’t break down. She drew a deep breath. “I see that now.”
“And it’s why you and I . . .” His eyes were damp. “Why this can’t work.”
“Yes.” That was it. She’d said everything there was to say. “I’m sorry, Brady. I promised God for a reason.” She hesitated. “It’s a reason that still matters.”
There was one more thing she needed to do. Jenna unclasped the key necklace and clutched it in her hand. “This is yours. I’ve wanted to give it to you for a long time.” She held it out to him.
“I can’t . . .” He shook his head. “It’s yours.”
“I’m there, Brady. Like you said, I live in 9:03.” This time she took hold of his hand and gently placed the necklace in his palm. “It’s yours now. And as long as I live I’ll pray you get there someday.”
He looked at the key for a long moment, at the time stamp at the center. Then he slipped it into his pocket, his movements slow as if he didn’t want to damage the chain. His eyes found hers again. “Thank you.” Brady stood. There was nothing more to share, nothing else to discuss. Despite the hurt in his eyes, he held out his hand one last time. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
As they walked past the reflecting pool Jenna caught the image of the two of them. And in that instant she saw what Brady saw. Two people desperate. Holding hands so they wouldn’t fall to the ground. Heartbroken.
Changed forever by the bombing.
• • •
WHEN THEY REACHED Allison’s house, Brady came around to her side of the truck and helped her out. It seemed his physical strength had remained today, no matter how much the conversation had destroyed him.
Both of them.
This was it, the goodbye Jenna had known would happen. The one she had dreaded more than any in all her life. Brady closed the passenger door and leaned against the truck.
When he took hold of both her hands, she didn’t resist. Instead she came closer, inches from him. “I hate this.”
For a few seconds, determination flashed in his eyes. Like he might beg her to change her mind or let go of her promise to God. But the look was gone almost as soon as it came. “So that’s it? You leave tomorrow . . . and don’t look back?”
All she wanted was to be in his arms. Something hopeful. Think of something hopeful. “You know how to reach me.”
“Why?” His eyes were dry now, marked by futility. “Jenna, you’ve made up your mind. You need to keep your promise.” He released her hands and slid his into the pockets of his jeans. “This is it.” He paused. “Right?”
Jenna stepped forward. “I don’t want it to be.” She felt herself melting, falling into him. The space between them closed and she put her arms around his neck. “I love you, Brady.”
That was all it took. He placed his hands on either sides of her face, his fingers up in her hair, and like that his lips were on hers. The kiss was slow and unforgettable. A dizzy mix of longing and desperation and finality.
She could’ve stayed there forever, but one kiss became another and another. And a minute later, Jenna knew it was time. If she didn’t step away from Brady Bradshaw now, she never would.
Her breathing was jagged, her lips still hungry for his, but she did the thing she could never have done in her strength. She pulled away and took hold of his hands. They were trembling, tears brimming in their eyes. “Goodbye, Brady.”
“I love you. I always will.” His voice said he was past asking why, past trying to figure out a way to make her stay. “Goodbye.”
Jenna let go of his hands and moved back a few feet. “I love you, too.” She hesitated. “If you change your mind . . . you know where to find me.”
His eyes told her he understood. Not if he changed his mind about her. But if he changed his mind about God. “I can’t, Jenna.” His voice was barely a whisper. “God took the only people I’ve ever loved.” He blinked back tears. “I can’t believe in a God like that.”
She looked at Brady for a long moment, memorizing him, certain that for everything they shared, this really was goodbye. Not just for a while.
But forever.
By the time she turned and headed up the steps into Allison’s house, she was crying hard. She closed the front door behind her, leaned against it and slid down to the floor, her sobs coming from a place so deep and raw, Jenna wasn’t sure they’d ever stop.
She heard Brady start up his truck, heard him drive away. As he left, Jenna realized they hadn’t gotten a sapling for Ashley’s niece. It was another loss, though it paled in comparison to losing Brady.
Jenna wasn’t sure how much time passed. Ten minutes or fifteen. Thirty. But suddenly while she was sitting on the floor, while sadness racked her body and made her wonder how she’d ever move on, she had an idea.
A crazy idea.
Her phone was in her pocket, and she pulled it out. Through bleary, tear-soaked eyes she began to write a text message. She explained the situation and asked for help. Any help at all. Then she sent it to the one person who might be able to do something, the person who would always want Brady and Jenna to find a way.
Ashley Baxter Blake.
22
A shley got the text during the seventh inning of Devin’s summer league baseball game. As she pulled her phone from her purse, she figured the message must be from Amy, who was playing with Janessa at the playground adjacent to the ball diamond. But it wasn’t.
It was from Jenna Davis.
Landon was sitting beside her, cheering for Devin’s friend, who was up to bat. Landon didn’t seem to notice as Ashley shaded the phone screen to read it. The baseball game faded as the words came to life.
I’m sorry to bother you, Ashley. I would’ve called but I can’t stop crying, and I had to talk to you. I said goodbye to Brady a few minutes ago. Forever. Like I tol
d you, we’re too different. He doesn’t believe. Which means I have to let him go. I knew you’d understand.
Ashley’s heart immediately engaged. She hadn’t heard from Jenna in a few days and she’d wondered how things were going. Clearly not well.
She kept reading.
This is the situation. What I never told you. A few years ago I promised God I wouldn’t fall in love with someone who didn’t believe in God. If I couldn’t share my faith with the person I fell in love with, then I wouldn’t fall in love.
Well, with Brady it’s too late. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But he won’t believe. He can’t. He still blames God for what happened on April 19, more than twenty years ago.
I understand that, really. But that means we’re too different. I can’t consider having a relationship with him. All of which is destroying me. I’m devastated. We both are.
Tears stung the corners of Ashley’s eyes. Oh, no. Brady didn’t understand what he was walking away from, how complete his healing would be if only he’d turn his heart over to God. Dear Lord, this is terrible. Ashley found her place and finished reading the text.
I don’t know, I just thought I would tell you. Could you please pray for Brady? Pray that something happens to get his attention, to show him about God. Pray that he’ll change his mind and choose to believe. The way his mom believed before she died.
Otherwise, this summer has been beautiful. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. But I can’t let things continue. Not unless he changes.
I guess I’m asking you to pray for a miracle. I know this isn’t your problem, but I appreciate all you did to get us together, and I just thought . . . I knew . . . that you would pray. I’ll call you soon. Thanks again. Jenna.
Ashley sighed as she lowered her phone. Dear Lord, please speak to Brady. Let him hear Your voice. Give him a miracle, Father, please. Ashley lifted her eyes to the action on the field.