A Time to Surrender (31 page)

It felt like being smacked over the head with a pair of ruby-red slippers.

The train’s regularly scheduled stop south of Chicago turned into a six-hour delay due to tornadoes, thunderstorms, and debris blown onto the tracks. She could have hitchhiked to the Windy City by the time the train got going again.

Instead she prayed.

Sitting now in the San Diego train station she smiled to herself. Evidently she’d been majorly bummed to resort to prayer.

She had talked to God like Indio had told her she could, in everyday language, eyes open. She wanted desperately to believe—like Indio said—that He longed for her to talk to Him, that He would laugh out loud with joy when He heard her voice directed to Him.

And so she talked to Him. About all the Beaumonts, plus Kevin, Rosie, Nathan, and Hawk. About the horses, even. About Amber and her husband. She talked most especially about Danny.

Then, after a time, she knew deep in her heart two things, without a clue how she could possibly know them.

She knew God laughed.

And she knew what she had to do.

The first step was to get back to California. The Beaumonts had paid her well, so money was not the problem, just train schedules. The return trip took awhile.

The second step was about to present itself right now. Claire, Max, and Rosie walked through one of the train station’s big open doorways.

Rosie must have been on duty. She was in uniform. Another uniform walked beside her. He fit Rosie’s description of her partner, with a wiry build and an intensely blue glare.

Skylar stepped into Claire’s arms spread wide. For one long moment nothing else mattered.

Max hugged her. “We’ll get a lawyer.”

“No, I don’t need one. I did it.”

Rosie said, “Skylar—”

“I did—”

“Hold on. You don’t even know what we’re arresting you for.”

“Of course I do. I did it.” She held out her hands, wrists together. “Let’s go. Somebody get my backpack, please?”

Max grabbed one of her hands, Claire the other. He said, “Rosie, we’ll be her handcuffs, okay? She’s not a flight risk.”

“Sure. Wait, we gotta do the Miranda thing.”

The partner rolled his eyes. “Delgado, you’re losing it.”

Rosie flicked a finger across her damp cheek. “Give me a sec, Bobby.”

Claire sniffed back tears. “Officer Gray, would you mind carrying Skylar’s backpack?”

Eventually they moved to the door, an odd group walking through the station and onto a broad sidewalk. One cop cried, the other carried her bag. Max and Claire clung tightly onto each of her arms, not because she was a flight risk, but because they loved her.

Skylar’s courage did not waver through the ride in the back of the police car, the formal booking, the good-bye to Claire and Max, the entrance to a cell where a motley group of women hung out.

The hard part, the scary part, was the phone call. That was when her courage wavered.

She knew no lawyer to call; Max promised to take care of that anyway. She needed to hear Indio’s wisdom, but Skylar couldn’t call the elderly woman in the middle of the night. She thought she should call her parents, but Claire said she would do it the next day, a better time to hear such news.

And so Skylar followed her heart. She called Danny.

“H’lo.” He’d been asleep.

“Danny.” She bit her lip.

Silence hung between them.

“Is this Annie Wells or Laurie Ann Rockwell?”

She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

No reply.

“I’m at the San Diego police station. I-I turned myself in. Your mom and dad met me at the train station. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Another moment of silence passed. He said, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Why did you come back?”

“God told me to.” She could hear him breathing and imagined the fire in it. He would have a ton of things to say, but he was suppressing them all.

Totally un-Danny-like.

She rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“Okay. I-I’ll let you go. Bye.”

“Ciao.”

The line clicked.

Her heart clicked and then it clacked. It was the sound she had listened to on the trip halfway across the country, train wheels against rails, over and over. The words she couldn’t say out loud to him now had echoed in her head the whole way.

I love you, Danny. I love you, Danny. I love you, Danny.

Fifty-eight

T
he judge set bail.” Jenna ripped a long piece of packing tape from a box. “I still can’t believe it.”

Seated at the kitchen table, helping Jenna unpack in her new house, Amber said, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“We can blame the bump on your head for that bizarre thought. The bump, I might add, that Skylar or whatever her name is helped put there.”

“Oh, pshaw.”

Jenna frowned at her and pulled a skillet from the box.

Amber sighed. “‘Pshaw’ was supposed to make you laugh. You’re not quite yourself.”

“For good reason.”

“Yes, but that aside—”

“I’m not like you, Amber. I can’t just forge ahead and keep smiling.”

“You were, though. You got into ICU and watched over me. You’ve been caring for Evie and the other wives, offering smiles and tears.”

“Ooh-rah. I was faking it.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Jenna didn’t reply. If not for Amber’s familiar chatty voice, she would have quit listening an hour ago.

“Jen, what can I do for you besides put away dishes?”

“Get a blonde wig instead of that dark one?” Her tone didn’t quite ring with the flippancy she’d hoped for. She shouldn’t have invited Amber over so soon. She shouldn’t have agreed to her mother’s crazy plan.

The doorbell rang.

Too late.

A moment later she opened the door. Skylar Pierson stood there, regret in her pained expression obvious.

“Hi, Jenna.”

“Hi.” She hesitated over the name. “Skylar. Come on in.” She scanned the street as Skylar entered. “Where’s my mom?”

“Doing some errand down the street.”

“That’s okay?” Still amazed that the woman was out of jail, Jenna recalled the terms. Her parents had not only posted bond, they took full responsibility for Skylar’s not fleeing before her court date.

“Yeah.” Skylar closed her eyes for a second. “That’s okay. It’s allowed. Look, I know this is probably really trippy for you, but I had to apologize in person.”

Jenna saw the woman she knew as a friendly, offbeat, topnotch chef. Her hair was less deep brown. Lexi had colored it for her, trying to match the long tresses with the natural auburn roots. Skylar wore only one pair of earrings. Her freckles stood out against abnormally pale skin. Shorter than Jenna, she seemed smaller than before. Vulnerable, even.

This was a bona fide terrorist? “Trippy to the max,” Jenna said.

A smile fluttered across her lips. “I’m sorry.”

Jenna was sad that her family had been deceived by Skylar, but her heart was too raw to feel malice. She hugged her. “I know you are. Come meet Amber.”

They walked into the living room where Amber greeted them. She held out her hand and clasped Skylar’s. “I’m Amber Ames.”

“I’m sorry.” Skylar’s voice was low, husky.

“Thank you. Skylar. Is that what we should call you?”

“Please. I-I like it best.”

Jenna watched Skylar visibly relax under Amber’s gaze. Amber’s magic touch struck again.

Skylar said, ‘Laurie’ makes me feel like an unwanted brat. I dropped it a long time ago and didn’t become ‘Skylar’ until after—oh. I’m not supposed to talk about things like that.”

“I just wondered. Let’s sit. Can we sit, Jen?”

“Sure.” She chose a chair while Amber and Skylar sat on the couch.

Skylar said, “Jenna, is your arm okay?”

She looked at the ugly mark. At least the stitches were out. “It doesn’t hurt. The doctor said that most of the scar should eventually go away. The nurse told me to try cocoa butter. You might want to buy stock in it.”

Amber smiled. “Kevin will be impressed. It’s like a tattoo.”

“Not funny.” She noted Skylar’s questioning glance. “Kevin had one tattoo before we met.
One.
I told him I hate tattoos. He got two more after we got married.” That was nothing now, though, compared to his enlisting.

Skylar turned to Amber. “Are you all right?”

“I can’t complain. I get my hubby home for a whole month, and I get to wear this Angelina Jolie wig.”

Jenna rolled her eyes.

Amber winked at her. “Joey likes it.” She turned to Skylar. “Emotionally, it will take some time. But since I woke up, I haven’t had any physical problems whatsoever. Not even a slight headache.”

“Thank God,” Skylar whispered and took a deep breath. “I saw the guy at the protest.”

“Hold on. Should you be telling us this?”

“No, but if I don’t confess, I-I’ll crack up. More than I have already.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Hey, I’m cool with being stand-in priest. I won’t tell a soul—”

“But you have to tell! If you end up in court, under oath.”

“Okay.” Amber grasped one of Skylar’s hands. “I know you saw him and you think you’re responsible for my injury. That’s debatable, but God has already forgiven you and so have I.”

Skylar wiped her sweater sleeve across her face. “Indio says confession opens the soul up to Christ’s healing like nothing else can.”

“She would.” Amber smiled at Jenna. “I insist on another basking visit with your grandmother. I’ll even pay next time.”

“Sure.” Good grief. Her grandmother, mother, and these two could start their own church. Amber and Joey had spent a couple of days at the retreat center, compliments of the Beaumonts. As expected, Amber, Claire, and Indio connected like constellation stars.

Shaking off her own load of guilt, Jenna said, “Skylar, we really don’t blame you. I can’t connect the dots between you spotting him and what followed.”

“I should have told Rosie when I saw him. I should have grabbed the nearest cop.”

Jenna said, “And then what? You know he wasn’t working alone. Things were already set in motion. His cohorts could have set it off if he’d been detained.”

Skylar nodded sadly. “Maybe. I knew him as an eco-terrorist, not a peacenik. He—we never got involved in this kind of stuff. But I knew he made bombs. I
knew
he was up to no good. If I had listened to that intuition instead of how afraid I was of him, maybe you two and those others wouldn’t have been hurt. That poor family could have had a funeral. I am so, so sorry.”

Amber scooted closer and wrapped her arms around Skylar. “You are forgiven, hon. God forgives you.” She began whispering. It sounded like she was praying.

Jenna wrestled with a sense of being on the outside looking in.

Later that evening, after the others had gone, Danny stopped in to help Jenna move furniture. She liked that he lived so close.

His face red, his brow sweaty, he dropped the mattress into place with a grunt. “I thought your hired movers were supposed to do this.”

“They did. I just changed my mind about where I wanted the bed.”

“The Princess can be fastidious and finicky.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing that calling your older brother wouldn’t fix. Dresser over there?”

“Yes.” She watched him push and shove. “Erik wasn’t available. He keeps disappearing these days with Nathan. Did they interview you yet for their documentary?”

“Yeah. Still don’t have a clue what it’s all about.”

“They just asked me to describe my first meeting with Rosie.”

“Me too. And Lexi. They’re tightlipped about it.” He repositioned a corner of the dresser. “How’s that?”

“Fine.”

“Uh-oh. I’d like a ‘perfect’ if possible.”

“It’s just fine.”

“I don’t want to come back tomorrow night. Tell me, what would make it perfect.”

“If Kevin were sleeping in it tonight.”

“In the dresser?”

“You know what I mean.”

Danny slid down along the dresser and sat on the floor. “Give it up, Jen. You’re married to a Marine deployed overseas. Period.”

“I’m doing the best I can! I’ve been to two military funerals. I’ve spent hours on end with a woman who could have been one of my students
yesterday
, watching her lose touch with reality and totally relating to
why
she was. I’ve given grocery-store gift cards to most of the wives whose husbands are with Kevin because they all have little kids and hardly enough money. I check in with some of them
frequently
! What else is there?”

He clapped.

“You are such a snot.”

“I am. I didn’t mean to make fun. I really do applaud your efforts, Jen. I couldn’t do what you’re doing. But you’re fueling them on resentment. Is it all aimed at Kevin?”

She sat on the bed. “If Kevin walked through that door right now, I admit we’d have to go see a marriage counselor, but I wouldn’t leave him. I’m so afraid he’s leaving me, either because the trauma will change him forever or because he’s going to get killed.”

“That’s a lot of fear going on there. True, he’s in a combat zone. He’s in danger. You can count on the trauma doing a number on him. He will never be the same, not totally.”

“Thanks. That helps a lot.”

“Let me finish. ‘Not the same’ has its positive side. Kevin’s a strong guy. He’ll come through a better person in the long run.”

“I’m afraid of the long run too.”

“Well, he needs you to hang in there no matter how hard it is. Being afraid or resenting the situation only makes it harder on both of you. It doesn’t reinstate you to princess status.”

“That’s for sure. Which leaves Cinderella, and I’m not so good in that role, taking care of others’ messy needs.”

“Without complaint.” He smiled in a sad way. “You’re fine in it, Jen. You’ve been taking care of kids’ literacy needs for years. Totally messy endeavor. Now your sphere has expanded to include a group of hurting wives.”

“Beth Russell told me a princess is gifted to serve others.” Jenna paused, recalling the conversation. “She said I’d heard the nickname for so long it was imprinted on my heart. I’d come to believe that’s who I was, a princess everyone else was supposed to take care of.”