One Tuesday Morning (50 page)

They'd found his body—his and Larry's, side by side—on a spring day when the remains of more than a dozen firefighters were found. The department had given both of them a proper funeral—the type Jamie no longer had any reason to dread. Jake's helmet sat on Sierra's dresser now, a constant reminder that her daddy was up in heaven, waiting for the far-off day when they'd be together again.

In some ways Jake's presence lived on in their home, brought to life again and again each time Jamie read the words in his journal. She was still learning the depth of how he'd loved them, how he'd cherished his time with God and his family.

Every now and then Jamie could hear her father's warning, the one he'd spoken to her as he peered over his newspaper so long ago, back when she first fell in love with Jake.
It's a tough job, fighting fires in New York City. The danger's always there, Jamie, as close as the next call
.

In the end her father had been right about that. But he'd been wrong about the rest, the part where he'd told her that a man didn't need anyone but himself, that religion was a sign of weakness. Jake Bryan would always be the strongest man she knew … so strong that even now his words, his faith, his love were sometimes all that held her up—even from as far away as heaven.

And God had given her other help too. Over the months Jamie and Sue had become closer than sisters, helping each other through the missed birthdays and lonely holidays. As the anniversary of the terrorist attacks neared, Sue had agreed with Jamie. They didn't want to spend the day gathering with a group of mourners or honored in some sort of ceremony.

They wanted to spend it alone. Lost in the memory of all September 11 had cost them.

Now that the one-year date was finally there, Jamie and Sierra packed a picnic and bought a single white helium balloon. They headed to the place that Jake would've wanted to go, a place that was bound to be virtually empty that morning.

Sierra was quiet as they held hands and made their way across the sandy beach to the spot where they had come as a family so often before. It was windy as they set their things down and carried the balloon close to the shore. A seagull sounded in the distance, and Sierra looked up. She was taller now, a kindergartner whose eyes were a little less quick to sparkle and dance the way they once had. She gazed into the sky. “Mommy … do you think Daddy can see us?”

Jamie hadn't cried as much lately. God was sustaining her, just as He'd promised. For the most part, she did her grieving in private. Jamie looked at the sky overhead and smiled. Yes, that was something else Jake was still teaching her. That it was okay to cry, okay to love deeply enough to hurt. And here, now, she felt the sting of tears as she considered her daughter's question.

“Yes, honey. I think Daddy can see us.” Jamie pulled a pink marker from her jacket, pulled off the cap, and handed it to Sierra. “Go ahead, honey.”

They'd planned this weeks ago, and now her daughter didn't hesitate. Jamie held the balloon for her, and Sierra hovered over it, carefully printing out each letter until she'd written a simple message across the white. “I love you, Daddy. From, Sierra.”

She finished the final “a” in her name and then handed the marker back to Jamie. “Mommy, I just thought of something.”

“What?” The beach was empty, just as Jamie had pictured it. They were the only two people near the water as she looked at Sierra.

“Do you think if I give the balloon a butterfly kiss, it'll make it all the way up to Daddy in heaven?”

Jamie bit her lip and swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Yes, baby. I think Daddy would get it that way.”

Sierra nodded and held the balloon near her face. She was about to kiss it when she stopped and looked at Jamie. Her eyes glistened with tears. “I miss him, Mommy.”

“I miss him too.”

Then—the same way she'd always done with Jake—Sierra rubbed her nose against the white surface of the balloon and held her cheek against it the way she might if her daddy was brushing his eyelashes against her. Then she turned it slightly and finally blinked her own silky eyelashes against the smooth rubber.

“Okay.” Sierra looked at Jamie. “I'm ready.”

Jamie nodded, and Sierra held the balloon string high over her head. “Jesus … please let my daddy get this. Okay?” She waited for a single moment, then she opened her fingers and watched the balloon shoot into the sky. At first it seemed to drift in the air currents, but in only a few seconds it began moving quickly toward the heavens, and in no time at all it disappeared.

They walked back to the shore, and Jamie could almost picture the scene in Paradise. Jake standing there with Jesus, capturing the balloon as it went by and sending back butterfly kisses and enough love to last them a lifetime. Not just for Sierra, but for her.

Always for her.

Only then, with the balloon safely on its way to heaven, did Jamie pull out the piece of paper from her pocket. A copy of the last letter Jake had ever written to her.

Dear Sweet Jamie …

A teardrop fell onto it, and Jamie brushed it off. Beside her, Sierra dropped to the sand and stared at the spot in the sky where the balloon had disappeared. Jamie blinked so she could see the words once more.

I have this feeling, deep in my heart, that something's about to change for me and you. Maybe it's your questions about church or the way you seem to hang on to Sierra's Bible stories a little bit longer these days. Whatever it is, I've prayed for God to touch your heart, baby. He means everything to me, and I know that one day He'll mean everything to you too. On that day, you'll no longer have to be afraid, because you'll have God Almighty to lean on. I want you to know, honey, that when you find that precious faith, I'll be smiling bigger than you've ever seen me smile
.

Jamie stifled a sob as she looked up toward heaven again. She sniffed and ran her fingers through Sierra's golden hair. The truth was unbelievable, really. That in her search to teach a stranger how to be Jake, she'd discovered the one thing that had been her husband's single source of strength, the faith that mattered so dearly to him.

She swallowed and finished reading the letter.

Because the thing I want even more than your love is the knowledge that we'll have eternity together. I simply can't bear the idea of being in heaven without you. I love you too much to lose you, and sometimes, Jamie, honestly it seems like you're running. Like you're too afraid to live and love and laugh the way you could. I want you to know it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay to love and it's okay to lose. Once you figure that out you can stop running … and start truly living. The way God wants you to live. Wherever you are when you read this, honey, know that I love you. And I'm praying for you. Always and forever … Jake
.

She folded the piece of paper and tucked it back in her pocket. Beside her Sierra stirred, and Jamie knew it was almost time to eat their picnic lunch. They'd had their moment of remembering, of marking September 11, and all they'd lost on one single Tuesday morning.

But there was one more thing she wanted to do.

Leaving Sierra there by the picnic basket, Jamie walked a little closer to the shore, closer to the water where she and Jake had played together. When she was a few feet from the surf, she slipped off her shoes and took a few more steps until her toes were wet. Wet with the same water that had splashed against her and Jake as they tore across the bay all those summer days a lifetime ago.

Then she lifted her face toward heaven and narrowed her eyes, willing herself to see him as he was now, watching her, praying for her. The words she wanted to say to him, she would say in her heart … where the echo of them was bound to reach him even as far away as heaven.
Hello, Jake … it's me
. She paused, searching the sky.
I believe now … and I've stopped running. Isn't it amazing? How God answered your prayer?
A wind gust brushed over Jamie, and she closed her eyes.
I miss you, baby. Every day, every minute
. Her tears felt cool on her cheek, but she smiled despite them.
Save me a place, will you, Jake? Because one of these days we'll be together again
.

She opened her eyes, and in that moment, she didn't have to wonder what Jake was doing, how he would look if she could see him now on the streets of heaven. She could see him as surely as she could see the clear blue sky. As easily as if he were standing in front of her.

The moment passed and Jamie returned to Sierra. They shared their picnic, and after an hour they packed up and left. Before they piled into the van, Sierra stopped and stared up at the sky. “Mommy …”

“Yes, honey.”

“You know when you went and stuck your feet in the water before lunch?” She shifted her gaze to Jamie.

“Yes, baby.” Jamie set the picnic basket on the backseat and came up alongside her daughter. “I remember.”

“Well, for a minute I thought I could see Daddy in the sky.”

Jamie sucked in a quick breath. “Really?”

“Mmhmm.” Sierra looked back at the expanse of blue overhead. Her eyes were serious, but less sad than before.

“What was he doing?” Jamie hugged Sierra's shoulders as the child turned and met her eyes.

“The most wonderful thing, Mommy.” Sierra's eyes sparkled. “He was smiling.”

A
UTHOR'S
N
OTE

Dear Reader,

On the morning of September 11, I was getting my children ready for school, when the phone rang.

“Karen … are you watching it?” It was my sister, Sue. Her voice was frantic.

“Watching what?” I slipped on a sweatshirt and headed downstairs with Austin in tow.

“The TV … America's under attack.”

Her words ran together after that, and all I could do was move quickly toward the television. There I witnessed—along with most of you—the collapse of the World Trade Center south tower. By then we had my mother on the line, and for a moment none of us spoke. Finally, my mom's voice broke the silence. “What just happened?”

It's a question we're still asking ourselves, isn't it?

What crazy madness and hatred was unleashed on our world that day? And how was it possible that the evil men who planned the attack were so accurate, their aim so deadly? For a while that morning I turned the TV off and helped the kids prepare for school. We ate breakfast and packed backpacks and had our devotions the same way we would've on any other morning.

But when they were gone, I turned the television back on and watched in horror as the events of the day unfolded. By noon, the story of Jake and Jamie Bryan, Laura and Eric Michaels began to grow in my heart. It wasn't something I asked for, rather it was simply something God gave me. A story born in the ashes of the collapsed Twin Towers.

I felt about the story the same way then as I do now … that it could've happened. That with all the wild madness and destruction that day, a story like the one that happened to these people truly could've taken place.

But that wasn't the point—not then and not now.

The point was much deeper.

We were all changed by what happened on September 11. In the days and months that followed, we grieved and got angry and came together in a way that had never happened before. We loved more easily. Some of you who are faithful readers wrote me letters saying that you'd made amends with a family member or learned to express your feelings for someone you cared about.

“I tell my father that I love him every time we talk now,” one of you wrote to me. “Life is too short … I know that better today.”

We all do.

The lessons Eric Michaels learned while living in the shoes of Jake Bryan are lessons we would all do well to take notice of. The essential need for God in our lives, the value of faith and family and special times together. The importance of daily Bible reading. And most of all, the fact that a job will never be more important than knowing God or treasuring the smiles of our little ones before they're grown.

No promotion or job title is more important than our relationships.

There were other lessons of course, the ones Jamie Bryan learned. That we cannot run from death. Eventually, it will catch each of us, and often at an hour when we are unaware. For that reason we need to love without limit and be ready to face our Maker as long as we draw breath.

I am grateful that you journeyed the pages of
One Tuesday Morning
with me. It was a difficult story to write—especially the scenes in the south tower—and I am certain it was difficult to read. For those of you who were touched personally by the attacks on America, please know that my heart grieves with you. I have prayed that this book might be sensitive and compassionate, and that it might help you grieve, also.

Perhaps in a way you haven't done until now.

I've been asked many times—even by my own father—whether it's too soon for a story like
One Tuesday Morning
. But always I say the thing that is in my heart. As a nation we have shared our shock and our anger.

Now it is time to share our grief. And often that is best done through story.
One Tuesday Morning
was my way of grieving, and maybe … just maybe it'll be your way too.

For those of you who've read all my novels, let me tell you that my family is doing well. My husband is enjoying his time away from coaching, a time to be with our children and lead our family into a closer walk of faith. Kelsey is a young teenager now, and our relationship with her is sweeter than ever. Tyler still gravitates toward storytelling and drama, and the four younger boys are most easily found on a sports field. As always, we cherish your prayers … especially for my family and my ministry of writing.

I leave you with the words of Jake Bryan—
“I've prayed for God to touch your heart … He means everything to me, and I know that one day He'll mean everything to you too. On that day, you'll no longer have to be afraid, because you'll have God Almighty to lean on.”

For those of you whose faith is as strong as Jake Bryan's … I celebrate with you the joy of knowing the peace that passes understanding. But if the tragedy of September 11 has you confused or depressed, if your questions about that day still stand in the way of your relationship with the Creator, please, find a Bible-believing church and voice your concerns. I am convinced that only then will you find out the truth about the love of God.