A Love for Safekeeping (15 page)

After dinner, she settled with Kyle’s family around the Christmas tree and unwrapped gifts. Jane was touched by Kyle’s gift, a gold sculptured heart suspended from a diamond-cut gold chain.

“I’m giving you my heart,” he whispered in her ear as he clasped it around her neck.

When Kyle unwrapped his navy cashmere sweater, Jane wished the gift was as romantic as the locket. But the sweater fit perfectly, and he looked handsome in it.

When all the gifts were opened and the torn tissue stuffed into a trash bag, Jane curled her legs on the sofa and sipped hot chocolate.

With Kyle nestled beside her, she fixed her gaze on the perfect Douglas fir glinting its colorful display in
the dimmed lamplight. As Christmas carols played softly, the four sat in silence, enjoying the music.

Yet, in the quiet, fear edged into Jane’s thoughts. The stalker had been a constant fear, but recently she’d had reoccurring questions about her and Kyle. Though she’d spent Christmas Eve with Betsy, Jane had felt alone. Loving an officer meant loneliness, worries and fears.

Every time Kyle was late, Jane would fear the worst. The concern pressed against her heart. She was torn. Loving him hurt too much, and not loving him hurt her more. Only God could solve her overwhelming predicament.

Feeling guilty, Kyle shifted and squeezed Jane’s hand. He’d been withdrawn much of the evening. His mind was littered with thoughts about his future. If he’d followed his heart, Jane’s Christmas gift would have been an engagement ring.

Four months—that’s all they’d known each other. But four months, four years, it was all the same. It seemed he’d known her forever…and loved her even longer. But she’d been clear about her feelings. Until they resolved his career, Jane wouldn’t accept his proposal. He couldn’t bear to have her turn him down.

Gaining courage, Kyle eyed his father relaxing in the recliner. “Dad, have you talked any more with Walter Kitzmiller?”

His father did a double take. “No, why?” He straightened in his chair.

“I’ve been thinking.”

With the speed of a bullet, Jane faced him. A mixture of emotions flashed across her countenance.

“Don’t either of you get your hopes up.” Kyle shifted his gaze like a wind sock. “I’m thinking, that’s
all, but I need to talk with Kitzmiller before I can make a decision.”

“I’ve prayed long and hard to hear you say that.” Paul shifted the release on the recliner and eased forward. “And I’ve prayed that God keeps my mouth closed and let you handle your own life, but I’m happy you’re thinking.”

Struck by emotion, Kyle closed his eyes.

“Just know that whatever you decide, son, I’ll stand behind you all the way. If you pray about your decision, the good Lord will tell you the way you should go.”

Kyle sent him a wry smile. “I’ve prayed so much, the Lord’s tired of hearing me.”

Paul adjusted the chair to a reclining position. “He’s listening. That’s all you need to know.”

Kyle expected Jane to let out a wild cheer as blatant as his father’s beaming face, but she didn’t. Instead, he saw a teary mist rimming her lashes. Her reaction confused him. He studied her silence, longing to know her mind. “So?” he asked finally.

But she stared down at her lap. “What?”

“What do you think?”

“I think we should talk later.” Desperation filled her eyes.

He caressed her shoulder and felt her tense. “All right.” But it wasn’t all right. It was all wrong.

She nodded, but her response took the edge off his excitement. He’d hoped his sacrifice might help her understand how much he loved her.

For years, his parents hinted for him to find a safer job, but he hadn’t moved. Now, for Jane, he’d give her the world. If Kitzmiller’s position was anything he could tolerate, he’d take it.

Like a bullet blasting through his chest, the thought of leaving the force left a hole in his heart.

On the way home, Jane’s thoughts were racing. Kyle wanted to talk, but she asked him to wait until they reached the house. Their silence sparked with tension.

Jane had struggled with her feelings all evening. She’d felt God’s hand guiding her to Kyle, but the past two days had sent her in another direction. She’d been thinking only of her needs. She needed to think of Kyle’s. She had to let him go.

Sorrow rose within her in chilling waves; incredible grief sat against her chest and stifled her breath. She felt lost, and more alone than ever in her life.

Inside the house, Kyle captured her in his arms. “Jane, what’s wrong? You’re frightening me.”

“I’m sorry, Kyle. Please sit down.” She motioned to a chair. “We need to talk.”

“If it’s the Kitzmiller thing, I didn’t know what else to do. I want to make you happy.” He looked confused. “I thought a new job would please you. I’m doing it for you.”

“Please don’t, Kyle. That’s the problem. Whatever you do, do it for you.”

“But we’re not just you and me any longer, Jane. In my heart, we’re already one. If I do something for you, it gives me pleasure. Your unhappiness is mine.”

She clung to the chair arms, trying to sort her confusion. “That’s where you’re wrong, Kyle.”

“How am I wrong? We’ve talked about letting God guide us. Sometimes I think we’re so busy doing what we want to do we miss where the Lord’s leading us. He’s leading me to a new career. Don’t you understand?”

“No, because I don’t think it’s God talking to you. It’s me talking. And I’m not God. I told you from the start I can’t fall in love with a police officer. But I did. And I won’t let you ruin your life for me.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Jane, you’re making no sense. Please.” He lifted his head and torment filled his face.

Jane’s heart sank to unknown depths. She had to stay strong for him. “It makes all the sense in the world. I want you to be happy. You love being a police officer. I can’t allow you to quit the force for me.”

“Stop it, Jane. It’s for us.”

“It’s your life, Kyle. Not mine. Please. Please, go.” Her sigh rattled through her like dry bones.

Kyle’s face filled with disbelief. He rose from the chair, and without turning back, he walked out the door.

Jane caved into the sofa, filled with unspeakable grief.

Three days after Christmas, the telephone rang. When Jane heard the sound of Paul’s voice, she knew.

“Kyle’s been shot, Jane.”

“Oh, please Lord, no.” A moan tore from her throat. A dizzying sensation swooped over her, and she caught the edge of the kitchen counter to keep from crumbling to the floor.

“Are you okay, Jane?”

She closed her eyes, pushing the tears back, her voice a faint whisper. “Yes, I’m…I’m…. Is he—”

“He’s wounded, but alive, thank God. They’re taking him in for surgery now.”

“He’s alive?” An image of Kyle lying in a pool of
blood shivered through her mind. Her throat ached from repressing her tears.

“Yes. A bullet in the shoulder, they said. We’re headed for Redmond Community Hospital now.”

Jane clung to the counter, nausea sweeping through her. “I’m coming, too.”
Please, God. Please.

“We’ll pick you up,” Paul said.

“No, I’m okay. You go ahead, and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“But—”

She steadied her voice. “I’m fine.”

“Be careful, Jane. The roads are slick. Really wet and icy. Are you sure—”

“Yes, please, go ahead. Kyle needs you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Jane dropped the phone and covered her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks while guilt and sorrow washed over her heart. She hadn’t listened to God. Her own frailty had sent Kyle away. For the past three days, she’d suffered and struggled with her foolish decision. She needed—no, longed—to beg Kyle’s forgiveness.

Trembling uncontrollably, Jane hurried outside and understood Paul’s concern. The steps were glazed with ice, and she inched her way to the car.

After starting the engine, she turned on the heater, then grabbed the scraper and chiseled ice from the windshield. Climbing inside, the engine had warmed, and she shifted into reverse and backed from the driveway.

Her body trembled as a desperate weakness spread through her limbs. No longer could she worry about herself. Getting to the hospital and to Kyle pushed her beyond common sense. She clung to the wheel, feeling the tires slide at each pump of the brake.

On the highway, the salt trucks had dumped their wares on the cement, but the tires still skated beneath her. Jane spoke aloud, lifting her worries in prayer and begging God to make things right. Tonight she needed to hang on and let the Lord guide her.

A lonely stretch of highway loomed before her, and she glanced in the rearview mirror. A car crept behind her, dangerously close. Certainly the driver should stay back. But the car edged forward.

Fearful, Jane pressed on the gas pedal, her tires slipping on the treacherous surface. Her pulse raced. With a death grip on the wheel, she focused on the highway. She had to reach Kyle safely. In the mirror, the car moved steadily toward her bumper.

Why would some fool be speeding on this treacherous road? Her legs turned to gelatin; her foot felt powerless against the pedal. The other car shot forward—too close, and when the driver hit the high beams, the glare in her rearview mirror blinded her. In panic, she adjusted the mirror with shaking fingers.

Jane caught a reflection in the side mirror. The car pulled forward, passing her on the left, sliding toward her, closing the distance between them. Her heart hammered in her throat.

Her sedan veered off the highway.

A
s Jane’s car slid out of control, the deep ditch loomed out of the darkness and a metal guardrail clipped her bumper. She clung to the wheel, spinning sideways, then skidded to a stop on the shoulder. Panic screamed in her ears.

The other vehicle shot past, sliding to a stop. The car’s back-up lights brightened, and Jane sat in frozen terror. Was the driver stopping to help or was it…?
Lord, what should I do?
Jump out? Run?

Answering her prayer, a pair of headlights glowed in her rearview mirror. In a heartbeat, the other car changed gears and sped off into the night. Behind her, the car slowed and pulled off the road. Her body trembled. Her lungs burned. Tears dripped from her chin.

A tap hit her driver’s side window. She cringed as a faint voice sounded through the glass. “Are you okay?”

Hesitant, she lowered the window an inch, and the young man repeated his question. “Are you all right? That car ran you off the road.”

She nodded. “I’m okay.”

He stepped back, looked at the situation, then returned and squinted through the gap in her window. “Listen, just step lightly on the gas pedal. Lightly, but firmly. Don’t gun it. Understand?”

She nodded.

“Real steady,” he said. “If she slides, then raise your foot.”

Swallowing her emotions, Jane reviewed his instructions. She pushed lightly on the pedal, but the wheels spun.

She eased back, then tried again. This time the tires gripped and rolled forward.

The man motioned toward the road, his voice calling above the engine. “Don’t stop. Just keep going.”

Jane steered back to the cement and down the highway, watching his silhouette fade against his headlights. Prayers of thanksgiving rose to heaven, and she tried to calm her runaway heart. An accident, that’s all it was. Tonight she had no one to turn to—no one who understood like Kyle. Why had she sent him away?

The hospital lights glowed in the distance. Jane used the emergency entrance, gained parking and entered the surgical waiting room.

Kyle’s parents weren’t there. Her breathing faltered. Was something wrong? She turned and rushed down the corridor to the E.R. nurses’ station.

“Kyle Manning,” she said, her voice breathless.

The woman checked the clipboard and gestured through the double doors. “Curtain ten,” she said.

Jane pushed through the doorway. Paul and Ruth stood alone outside the curtained room. Jane crumbled into Paul’s arms, allowing her emotions free reign. “How’s Kyle?” she asked through her tears.

Ruth smiled with red-rimmed eyes. “They’re getting him ready for surgery.”

Paul patted Ruth’s shoulder. “The surgeon talked with us. It’ll take at least an hour, he said.”

Jane viewed his parents’ worried faces, and her heart ached for them as much as herself. They’d already lost one son. They couldn’t lose another. “Can we see him?”

“She’s giving him a shot, to relax him I guess,” Ruth murmured. “Then we can go back in until…”

Paul moved his hand in soothing circles on Ruth’s back. “We joined in prayer with Kyle, didn’t we, Mama?”

Daubing her eyes, Ruth murmured, “Yes.”

The curtain slid back, and the nurse stepped past them without looking. “You can go back in,” she said.

Though she longed to run through the doorway, Jane held back, allowing the Mannings to enter first. But when she stepped inside, his parents pushed her ahead. Her heart stood still.

Covered by a hospital gown, Kyle’s large frame filled the gurney. She ached seeing him helpless. He was her guardian, her knight in blue. Jane eyed his shoulder covered with a thick bloodstained bandage. Her stomach churned, and she pulled her focus from the wound. What could she do to let Kyle know she loved him?

“If it isn’t Redmond’s finest,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady and her tears harnessed.

“Not today,” he said, a grimace wavering across his face. He reached across the white blanket to capture her trembling hand.

Her spirit lifted while guilt tugged it back down. “What happened?”

He coughed, wincing as the pain wrenched through him. “The same two…another holdup.”

Kyle’s eyelids drooped, but he wrestled them open. “George and I answered the backup call.” He drew a deep breath and flinched. “That’s when the shooting began.”

Ruth clung to the bed rail. “Praise the Lord, another squad car showed up to help them.”

“Kyle said they were just young fellows.” Paul shook his head. “Such a pity.”

“George?” Jane asked. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” Paul said. “He’ll try to stop by after he files the report.”

“He left a message at the desk,” Ruth added. “Such a nice man.”

When Jane turned back to Kyle, his eyes were closed, and his deep breathing alerted her that the anesthetic had begun to work. Seeing him so vulnerable, she was struck by the truth. What would she do without Kyle? He was everything. Her life. Her old fears gave a tug. Forget the past, a powerful voice resounded inside her.

Before she collected her thoughts, the curtain was drawn back and an orderly stepped in to wheel him away.

She stood with Kyle’s parents, watching the gurney until it turned the corner. Then Paul steered them back out the double door to the waiting room.

As they sat, silence fell over them. The quiet voice inside her had spoken. The Lord had spoken. She would forget the past and let God be in charge.

Her frightening ride spun in her thoughts, but she pushed it aside. If she had good sense, she would have
noted the license plate number. She couldn’t remember a thing. Not the car’s make or color. Nothing.

Eventually they talked, anything to fill the waiting, and time passed. They said nothing about her quarrel with Kyle. Were they being kind or hadn’t Kyle told them? With each movement at the door, Jane raised her head, then lowered it again. Tension grew until she felt tears edging from her eyes again. She pulled a tissue from her handbag, wiping the moisture that rolled down her cheeks.

Paul shifted in his chair and placed his hand on her arm. “Let’s pray together, Jane. This waiting is unbearable.” He extended his hand toward her.

She looked into Paul’s kind, misted eyes and grasped his strong hand, feeling safe for the first time since his telephone call. Ruth clasped the other, and they bowed their heads as Paul prayed aloud for Kyle’s safety and their peace and understanding.

As she listened to his comforting words, tears fell to her lap. All the misery she’d felt for weeks—maybe a lifetime—drained from her. Ruth and Paul’s strong faith wrapped her like a cocoon and uplifted her.

Would her life have been different if she’d known this fatherly man years ago when she was an unhappy teenager? Jane ached, remembering how she wanted to love her own father—and she did, but her love was troubled and confused.

When Paul released her hand, he patted her arm. “Feel better?” His eyes were hopeful.

“Yes,” she said. “Thanks.”

Paul’s expression changed, and Jane followed his attention toward the doorway. A surgeon stood in the entrance, gowned in green. He nodded and joined them.

Watching him stride across the room, Jane clutched her trembling hands. But Paul’s prayer clung to her memory, and eyeing the doctor’s confident face, Jane’s spirits lifted.

“The surgery went well,” the doctor said. “He’ll have a bad shoulder for a while, and he’ll need to strengthen those damaged muscles, but everything’s fine.”

“Praise the Lord. Thank you,” Ruth murmured.

“Can we see him?” Paul asked.

Jane longed to ask the same question, but it didn’t seem her place. Not yet.

“He’s in recovery now. You can see him for a minute when he’s in a room. Tomorrow he’ll be better company. Now he needs rest.” He squeezed Paul’s shoulder. “They’ll let you know when you can go in.”

Paul nodded, and as the surgeon retreated through the doorway, Paul steered them toward the exit. “We have at least an hour, so let’s go for coffee and, maybe, a little dessert. Then we’ll come back and wait.”

They agreed, and when they were settled in the cafeteria, the women sipped coffee while Paul ate a piece of pie. They spoke about the Christmas holiday, anything to keep their minds off their worries.

But Jane’s mind overflowed with the stress of her past weeks. Unbidden, she released a troubled sigh. “I feel so lost without Kyle. He’s the one I turn to.”

“Don’t forget the Lord,” Paul said, knitting his fingers together on the table.

Reality coursed through her. She’d let the Lord fade from her life, and now, letting God back in was a struggle. How long had she leaned on herself rather than God? And where had it gotten her? Nowhere. Only more hurt and heartache.

“You’ve both been so kind to me.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Ruth said. “You’ve been a blessing to us.”

Jane’s eyes pooled with tears. Ruth was a true pastor’s wife—gentle, compassionate, and always supporting her husband. How could Jane ever support Kyle’s career in that way? Today was a prime example of a future with him. Fear. Loneliness. Yet she loved him too much to let him go. The paradox was mind-boggling.

Paul studied her face. “You love Kyle, don’t you?”

His question hit her like a punch in the solar plexis. Yes. She did, but it was so much more complex than a plain “yes.” The words wouldn’t come, but she nodded.

She stared at the cup in front of her, studied the greasy glaze shining from the too-strong coffee.

“You see your father’s career in Kyle’s. Is that right?” Paul asked.

She nodded.

“Faith, Jane. That’s what we all need. Good strong faith. I speak for myself…and Ruth. We need to put those fears in God’s hands.”

He was right. Unable to speak, Jane prayed, and when she had calmed, she glanced at her wristwatch.

Giving her hand a pat, Paul rose. “Time to get back.”

Jane nodded, wishing she could tell him more.

Paul helped Ruth, then Jane, from their chairs.

Standing beside him, Jane imagined how Kyle would look years from now. Handsome, strong, with little wisps of gray in his trim brown hair. She stretched on tiptoe and kissed Paul’s cheek while her heart stretched toward heaven.

When they returned to the waiting room, Kyle’s nurse was just leaving. “No more than two at a time,” she said. “And please keep your visits short for today. He’s still groggy and needs rest.”

She motioned for them to follow, but Jane held back indicating that they should go first. Paul looked at her with questioning eyes, but Jane insisted.

When they were gone, she slumped into the nearest chair and bowed her head, praying for Kyle’s recovery, and in the waiting silence, she prayed she might learn to put all her cares in God’s hands.

As she sorted her wavering thoughts, Paul came to the door and beckoned. He guided her down the hall, then left her with Ruth.

Jane hesitated in the doorway, surveying the room with relief—only one IV bottle and a single monitor blipping Kyle’s vital signs. No other fearful, high-powered machines loaded with bells and whistles stood beside Kyle’s bed.

Ruth’s strained face had relaxed, and she motioned for Jane to join her. At the foot of the bed, Jane ached, seeing Kyle still and silent. His eyes were closed, his shoulder bound with thick, gauzy cloth and heavy tape.

“He’s still sleeping,” Ruth whispered, but as she spoke, his eyelids flickered, then closed again. Ruth’s face brightened, and she leaned down and kissed his forehead. His lids fluttered again, and Jane heard an incoherent murmur.

“He called me Mom,” Ruth said, her face glowing. “Come closer, Jane. Talk to him.”

Jane moved to Kyle’s side, slid her palm over his still hand, then bent closer to his ear. “Hey, Redmond’s finest,” she murmured. “How are you doing?”

His hand shifted, and his lids flickered open again. “Hi, Jackson’s finest,” he muttered, his voice thick.

Her heart skipped, and despite Ruth watching, she placed a gentle kiss on his parched lips.

He struggled to focus, and beneath her hand, one of his fingers caught hers. His mouth formed soundless words, but she read the beautiful message on his lips. “I love you.”

Thin rivulets of tears rolled down her cheeks. With her free hand, she brushed them away. “Kyle, I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.” Finally she’d said the words. Three small words. One mammoth commitment.

An escaped tear dripped from her chin and dropped to Kyle’s hand. “I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered.

“You’re going to be fine, Kyle. Now, you need to rest,” Jane said. “I’ll let your dad come back, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave her an indistinct nod, and she pressed his hand a final time before letting go.

Paul insisted she wait, and after their parting with Kyle, he and Ruth walked with her to the parking lot. After saying good night, she opened her car door and slid inside, then gasped, noticing the paper caught beneath the passenger windshield wiper.

Her stomach cramped as a wave of nausea rolled through her. Peering into the darkness, she scanned the parking lot. Terror tore at her confidence. She didn’t want to look. If she turned on the wipers, she could let it fly away into the winter wind, the message unread.

The Mannings’ car vanished into the night, and Jane, watching it go, felt empty and alone. Fear dueled with anger, lashing her to the seat cushion. Fighting her panic, she slid from the car, yanked the note from the
wiper and darted to safety, plunging down the door locks.

She turned on the ignition and, in the dashboard’s glow, unfolded the paper. The note confirmed her worst fear. Her earlier scare had been no accident.

Look! Look! Look! See Jane skid.