Evidence of Mercy (34 page)

Acts, she'd said. He found the book then turned the pages, looking at the topic headings for the one about the crippled man being healed. He was almost surprised when he found it.

He began to read the third chapter aloud:

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon.

Now a man crippled from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts.

When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money.

Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, “Look at us!”

So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.

Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”

Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man's feet and ankles became strong.

He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God. When all the people saw him walking and praising God, they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate called Beautiful, and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.

Jake stopped reading as tears dropped onto the pages of the Bible, and he wondered why that passage affected him so. It was just a story. But it was
his
story. He could have been the man who'd “been put” at the gate to beg. In many ways, he was “put” here to beg from Lynda for the food and the shelter he needed. His pain was the same as that of the man who was so desperate, so alone that he had to cry out to everyone who passed to help him.

Funny how quickly pride could vanish when you were desperate.

His eyes strayed out the window to that red Porsche sitting like an indictment in the driveway, and he knew that Paige was right. In some ways, he had been just as crippled before the accident as he was now. He clenched his teeth. He'd rather be figuratively crippled than physically crippled any day.

He looked back at the Bible. Why had Peter and John cared about the man? Why hadn't they just stepped over him and forgotten him? Why hadn't they averted their eyes? Why hadn't they just thrown money at him?

He didn't know the answer, any more than he knew why Lynda had helped him. And Paige was right. He continually threw her kindness back in her face. It was a hobby, challenging her beliefs, but he'd learned already that he wasn't going to shake them. Lynda knew what she believed. He, on the other hand, didn't have a clue.

But as the afternoon passed, he continued to read. Maybe he would find out.

When someone knocked on his door two hours later, he'd already finished the entire book of Acts and had turned back to Matthew. But he didn't want Lynda to know it yet. Closing the book, he stuck it back into the drawer then went to answer the door.

Paige stood there, her arms crossed in front of her, and she gave a stab at smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said.

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “I just came to tell you I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that.”

“Yes, you should have,” he said. “You were absolutely right, and it needed to be said. I owe you an apology.”

For a moment, she seemed unsure if he was mocking her. “Really?”

“Really,” he said. “It's all right, Paige.”

She laughed softly. “And I was so nervous about coming over here. I figured you'd never speak to me again, but I wanted you to come for supper. It's just leftovers, but you liked what we had today. It was cut a little short, but—”

“I'll be there,” he said. “Is Brianna up?”

“Yeah,” she said. “She just woke up from her nap.”

“Maybe I'll come over in a little while and play with her. Let her know I'm not a total jerk. Maybe thank her for praying for me.”

“She'd like that.”

He closed the door and sat for a moment, surprised at how good it felt to make someone smile.

Maybe the day wasn't turning out so badly after all.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

T
he burning had spread partially up Jake's calves by the next morning. Allie and Buzz didn't want to put him in the pool again so soon, but when he managed to move one foot at the ankle, they gave in to his pleading.

Determined that he would stand this time, he moved between the parallel bars, got his feet into place, and tightened his gluteals.

“That's good,” Allie said. “Real good.”

“Just watch the knees,” Buzz told him. “Keep the stomach from bowing out. Easy now.”

Focusing hard, Jake got his knees to lock. It took a moment for him to realize that he was standing. He looked up at them with something close to terror in his eyes.

“I'm doing it. I'm standing!”

He would have paid money for the look on Allie's face as she realized that he really was.

“Buzz, he is. He's standing!”

“All right, Jake. Let's see how long you can do it.”

Already he felt the energy seeping out of him, and he knew he couldn't hold the position for long. “I feel so heavy,” he said. “And wobbly.” He looked up at the joy in both their faces. “But this is the beginning, isn't it? I'm gonna walk again.”

“Looks like it, man,” Buzz said. “I'd bet money on it.”

His PT's confidence was what Jake had waited weeks to hear, but now that he had, exhaustion kicked in, and he deflated like a balloon losing its air.

“That's okay,” Allie assured him. “You were up for about thirty seconds. That's great.”

“But you're sure it means I'll walk.”

“It means you'll be able to get around on your legs. You might need crutches or a cane or walker, but—”

“No,” Jake cut in. “I'm going to walk on my own. You'll see. It's gonna happen.”

No one tried to dampen that enthusiasm as he worked toward doing that for the rest of the day.

J
ake decided not to tell Lynda about his progress; he wanted to surprise her when he took his first steps. When the doctor declared that Jake's eye was healed enough to have his prosthesis put in, he decided not to tell her about that, too. It would be more rewarding to see the surprise on her face. After she dropped him off at the hospital for therapy, he got Buzz to drive him to the optical center where he'd be fitted for his eye.

He was mildly surprised as he wheeled himself into the shop with hundreds of pairs of glasses on the walls and posters that advertised contact lenses. “I thought this place would seem more—medical,” he told the receptionist. “I didn't know you could pick up an eye like you'd get a pair of lenses.”

“Well, there's a little more to it,” she said, pushing his chair into the back room where Dan Cirillo, the optician, waited. “But probably not as much as you'd imagined.”

He wasn't expecting to have the eye made while he waited, but that was Dan's intention. After they'd taken the impression of his socket, Jake waited for the wax model of his eye to be made, and sat in front of the optician and allowed him to use his other eye as a model while he painted a little disk to match Jake's iris. When that was done, the wax model was ready to try on, and Dan checked its fit.

Jake thought it odd that he couldn't feel it. Pulling it back out as easily as he would a contact lens, Dan said, “Okay—go on back to therapy for a few hours, and by the time you're done, your eye should be ready.”

Buzz brought Jake back that afternoon, and Dan greeted him with a plastic, painted model. “So what do you think?” he asked.

Jake cringed. “No way. That's not gonna look normal.”

“Wait and see.”

Dan put the eye in, then tested the movement. “It's perfect,” he said. “It moves right along with your other one. I think you're really gonna be happy with this.”

He handed Jake a mirror, and bracing himself, Jake brought it to his face. The eye looked identical to his other one, and he felt a rising sense of relief that the man in the mirror looked more like the Jake he used to know than he had since the crash.

He blinked, testing it and then moved his eyes back and forth to see how it felt.

“What do you think?”

Jake's smile spoke volumes. “I think I'm amazed.”

J
ake wasn't wearing his patch when Lynda picked him up that afternoon, and she gaped at him as he got into the car. “Jake, why didn't you tell me?”

His grin almost split his face. “I wanted to surprise you.”

She couldn't stop staring. “Look at me. I can't even tell which eye is false. It looks just like your other one!”

Still grinning, he leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her lips. The look on her face told him she was stunned, and he began to laugh. “It's back. The old mesmerizing charm. I hypnotized you with my baby blues, didn't I?”

“Well, I—”

He kissed her again. “See? I've still got it.”

Shaking her head, she started to laugh. “It's like a whole personality change.”

“It's hope, darlin',” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Just pure, colorful hope. I might just wind up with a life after all, now that I don't make people cringe when they look at me.”

Still laughing, she started the car. “So are there any other surprises?”

“You mean, am I gonna lay one on you again? I don't know,” he teased. “If I were you, I'd keep my guard up.”

He enjoyed the pink color that faded across her cheekbones as she drove and realized what a joy it would be when she finally did learn of the other surprise he hadn't told her. He had stood outside the pool this afternoon on both feet without holding his weight up with his arms. He was ready to walk, he thought. It was just a matter of time. In a very few days, maybe he'd be able to walk out to the car when Lynda came to get him. The look on her face would almost make all the misery he'd gone through worth it.

CHAPTER SIXTY

W
hen Lynda announced that she was going back to work on the following Monday to prepare for Paige's deposition a few days later, Paige was concerned. Lynda still had yellow bruises on her cheekbone and forehead, and last night Paige had caught a glimpse of Lynda dressing. Black bruises still colored her ribcage, and Paige could only imagine the pain that Lynda had been suffering without complaining since the crash.

“You know, I could go with you and help you,” Paige said as she worked on getting breakfast ready, so at least Lynda wouldn't have to leave on an empty stomach. “I could bring Brianna something to occupy her, and—”

“Paige, what do you think I have Sally for? She can help me.”

“I'm just worried about you. It's too soon to be going back.”

“The doctor said it's all right. Besides, we go to court in two weeks. I have to be ready.”

“But you could prepare for the deposition at home. Why do you have to go in?”

“There are things I can do better there, Paige. I want to document every infraction Keith has ever had in his life, and I need to be there to get it all put together the way the judge likes it. McRae's had some run-ins with this judge, which may play in our favor as long as I don't do anything to neutralize that advantage, so I'm going to do everything I can to please him in court. I have to contact all of the witnesses and meet with them. With time running out, I can't afford not to be on top of this.”

Paige felt like a heel for being the cause of this.

“But are you sure you feel up to it?”

“I'll be fine, Paige.”

“All right,” Paige said, giving up.

“Will you be all right here with Jake?”

“Yeah,” Paige said. “I don't know what it is, but his mood seems to be changing lately. I think we'll get along fine.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

F
inally!” Keith whispered to himself when he saw Lynda's car pull into her parking space beside her office building. He had figured that she'd probably be back to work today since it was Monday and she had to prepare for the hearing. He'd been sitting in his car across the street for a couple of hours already, waiting for her to make her appearance. His homemade bomb, wrapped in a leather pouch, sat on the seat next to him.

He had already decided that her personal space was in the perfect location—far enough to the side of the building that the security guard couldn't see it easily. Besides, as Keith had noticed for the past two hours, the guard stayed in his little office inside the building most of the time, watching television and talking on the phone. Keith could slip under her car, plant his package, and rig some wires, and the guard would never know. He could do it quickly; he'd been practicing.

Then all it would take was one turn of the key. . . . Keith made an exploding noise and then laughed as Lynda got out of her car and headed into the building.

He waited until she'd had enough time to get on the elevator then grabbed his package and got out of his car. The security guard was nowhere in sight. Looking down and walking fast, as if he knew exactly where he was going, he reached her car, looked around casually to make sure no one was watching and then got down on the ground and slid under it.

On his back, he unwrapped the bomb, pulled the duct tape out of his front pocket, and peeled off a long piece. He tore it off with his teeth, taped it to the gas tank, and then peeled off some more. When the bomb was taped securely enough to stay put, he inched forward on his shoulder blades and wired the bomb to the starter.

The guard still hadn't resurfaced when Keith stood up slowly beside the car. He hurried to the sidewalk, then slowed to a leisurely pace and cut across the street to his own car again.

Should he get out of the area or stick around and watch? The temptation was too great. He got back into his car, got comfortable, and prepared to wait as long as he needed to see the result of his planning and cleverness.