Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) (11 page)

He needed to relax. Why couldn’t he accept Kat’s idea that God was bringing something good into Abbie’s life? Because he wasn’t ready for another male to waltz into Abbie’s world and become her main influence at the same time he was starting to find his way back into her heart.

True, he’d alienated her by spending far too much time on his career at the university when she was younger, but he’d been more than on board for the past two years. And lately their relationship had grown significantly better.

After they were seated, Marcus said a quick prayer and watched Kat gracefully steer the conversation. “Abbie tells me you’re new in town.”

“Yeah, we’ve been here for only a month but it’s been great so far.” Calen glanced at Abbie. “But like it says in John’s gospel, the wind blows where it will, and I have to think the Spirit brought us to Seattle for a reason.” He glanced at Abbie again and she flushed and gave him a shy smile.

That night as they lay in bed Marcus tried to accept the fact Abbie wasn’t ten anymore. Or even twelve.

“Don’t blow it.” Kat patted his leg.

“Something is off about this kid.”

“No, for you there is. No one else. Something is going to be off for you with every guy Abbie brings home. It’s okay to feel that way but your feelings don’t make it true.”

“A large part of me cannot comprehend that we’re having this discussion.”

“Be wise.” Kat poked him in the shoulder. “I mean it. This is a good kid. Yes, he’s a senior but he’s good for her. Haven’t you seen it? She’s lighter than she’s been in a year and it’s good for your relationship with her. Tell me you saw that tonight. And that you’re not going to crush her.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“That he asked her to the prom tonight, and when she tells you, you’re going to smile and congratulate her.”

“What? Wait a minute. When did this turn from ‘a friend’ to going to the prom? Let me guess, you wanted to ease me into it? Meet the kid, agree he’s great, then roll over and say yes?”

“You and Abbie have done pretty well over the past several months. If you’re going to tell her she can’t go with Calen I suggest you do it with a great deal of tenderness and tact.”

“She’s just a little girl.”

“I wish that were true.”

“It is true.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t care if she’s twenty.”

Kat didn’t answer and turned over. Within minutes she was asleep. Slumber didn’t come for Marcus till nearly an hour later. And fifty minutes of prayer didn’t get him any closer to knowing what he was going to do.

The next evening at nine thirty Abbie slumped onto the couch in their family room next to Kat and skewered him with her eyes. “This is where you tell me I can’t go to the prom with Calen, right?”

“I’m only saying I want to discuss it.”

“Let’s cut to the final scene, Dad. Do you approve or not approve? Can I go or not?”

“He seems like a nice kid but—”

“He’s not a
kid
! He’s a senior and he’s almost eighteen years old. He’s nearly an adult.”

Marcus took a deep breath. “Exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“He seems like a nice
adult
but—”

“But I’m too young to date, he’s too much older than me, blah, blah, blah, and I can’t go to the prom with him.”

“I’m just trying to—”

Abbie grabbed the back of her long red hair and pulled down, her eyes closed. “To what, Dad? Protect me? Keep me from getting my heart broken? I just want to go to a dance together and if that goes well maybe a movie. Take a hike in the mountains. Go to a Sounders game together. Hang out with him at youth group. I’m not going to bed the guy.”

“Abbie!”

“What?” She kicked the coffee table and yanked her arms across her chest.

“Statistically young girls . . . women . . . who start dating early have a much greater chance of winding up in relationships that will hurt them and taint their marriages for years to come. I know emotionally this doesn’t register with you, but please consider the logic of this.” He glanced at Kat for support but she shook her head. “You’re only fourteen years old and you’ll have years of time to date when you’re older.”

“Technically I’ve lived on earth for fourteen years so I’m really in my fifteenth year of living.”

“Abbie.”

She scowled. “Marcus.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then be my dad, not a professor lecturing me on the ills of holding hands with a boy at my age. Can’t you trust me just a little bit? I’ve prayed about this by myself and with Mom and I’m not blind.”

He stared at her pleading eyes and an image of the dinner
they’d had almost a year ago at the Space Needle flashed into his mind. And the times since then where they’d watched TV together, went for mountain bike rides, and how her face lit up for a few seconds when he framed a picture he’d taken of her playing soccer and gave it to her for no reason at all. He didn’t want to lose the ground they’d gained.

And logic? Yes, it was logical to let her go. It was one date. She wasn’t getting engaged. And he could keep a very close eye on where things went from here with Calen.

“Okay, you can go.” The words sputtered out of his mouth, and the moment they did he wished he could take them back.

Abbie leaped from the couch and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Thanks, Dad. I’m so glad I don’t have to cut you out of my will now.”

Marcus tried to smile. “Me too.” He stood and glanced at Kat who mouthed,
Well done
. Then he walked out of the room and upstairs, trying to ignore the sensation in his stomach telling him he’d made an extremely poor decision.

Marcus sat at his desk in his den.
You made the appropriate choice.
But had he? Where was the line between being a strong father and protecting his daughter and letting her go? How much of their strained relationship played into it—should play into it? Had he let her go just to keep their relationship going in the right direction? Did it mean he’d always be a slave to Abbie’s desires? The desires of a fourteen-year-old?

A shuffle of feet in his doorway made him look up. Kat, with a smile on her face.

“Thoughts?” he said.

“You hit a few bumps, swerved a few times, but got the car back on the road by the end of the conversation.” Kat eased over to his walnut desk and leaned against it.

“I hope we’re even supposed to be on this stretch of the highway.”

“I’m thinking what’s left of today still has enough to worry about, so why don’t we put tomorrow’s worries off till tomorrow?”

“Well said.”

“Are you coming to bed?” She turned to go.

“In a few minutes. I need some time to wind down.”

“Don’t think too hard. It’s all going to work out.” As Kat left, his den light flashed off her wedding ring and Marcus glanced around his den. Everything looked exactly the same.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and stayed that way for a long time. He needed to relax. Trust that God had Abbie in his hands. He repeated the idea to himself along with verses that seemed like clichés. Finally he opened his eyes and came forward. Time for bed. Kat was probably already asleep.

He pulled a couple of pens out of his pocket and tossed them onto his desk. They came to rest against a small stack of photos tucked underneath a book he’d been studying. He reached for them and slowly drew them closer. He didn’t remember the photos being there the day before yesterday. Were they? Marcus lifted the stack and his pulse spiked. Whether the photos had been there or not was irrelevant because the one on the top of the stack shouldn’t exist.

FOURTEEN

M
ARCUS SLUMPED BACK IN THE LEATHER CHAIR IN HIS
den and stared at the photo clutched in his hand as if it were proof UFOs were real. Where had the shot been taken? He racked his brain for the answer but his mind offered no solutions.

The picture was of Dave Damrell and him standing on the top of a rocky, nondescript cliff, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, wide grins under their mirrored sunglasses. A sweeping view of snowcapped peaks forty or fifty miles behind them appeared to be an ideal backdrop to capture a memory of male bonding.

The only problem was, Marcus had no recollection of the picture being taken or where he and Dave were standing. He turned the photo over. Eight words on the back, scrawled in his handwriting, made his body go numb:
On top of Little Annapurna—Enchantments trip ’93.

Was this some kind of joke? The first four photos were of jade-green alpine lakes and sweeping mountain views and goats with molting fur. But the last one was of Dave and him on a trip in the summer of ’93 he didn’t go on.

The trip he’d regretted missing ever since. Dave, Ricky Totten, and Mark Effinger had all gone and raved about it for years afterward—needled him was a more accurate description—and he’d
never forgiven himself for canceling at the last minute so he could . . . Marcus couldn’t even remember why he’d thrown the trip away. Probably studying for a test for his PhD.

He turned the other photos over. There was a lack of notation on them. He set the photo of Dave and him in the center of his desk and shoved the other pictures to his right. A thick sensation of dread grew in the center of his stomach. There was no logical explanation for how this photo could exist. But it did.

“Would you like to explain to me what has just occurred, Lord? Along with the scenes in the bakery? Are they tied together?”

He clutched the photos in his hands and tiptoed out of the den toward his bedroom. The door creaked as he opened it—he had to WD-40 those hinges. The lights were off and Kat’s rhythmic breathing told him she was asleep. He turned and eased back to the den. He needed to talk to someone now. Reece? No. That would be a ghastly choice. Their leader didn’t need anything reminding him that taking or looking at photos would likely not be in his immediate—let alone long-term—future.

Brandon. He was most likely still up and Marcus didn’t have to explain what had happened on the Ave last Friday. He pulled out his phone and dialed the Song.

“Professor. You have a physics question for me?”

“Sorry to call late.”

“I’ll be up for another hour at least. Talk to me.”

“I found a photo of myself standing on a mountain I couldn’t have been standing on.”

“Cool.”

“No, not cool.” Marcus explained what happened. “I need to know where that photo came from.”

“Do you feel like something weird spiritually is going on?”

Nothing in his spirit felt off in the slightest. Once again the situation felt neutral. “It feels the same.”

“What’s he do for a living?”

“What does who do for a living?”

“Your pal Dave. How does he produce cash-o-la? Put bread on the table, you know?”

“He teaches computers and video production at a junior high school.” Marcus leaned back, his leather chair bumping up against his bookshelves.

“Ah yes, that makes perfect sense. Which I believe gives us the answer to your one-question quiz.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Hello?” Brandon laughed. “I thought you were supposed to have the exceptional mind, Prof.”