One Tuesday Morning & Beyond Tuesday Morning Compilation (55 page)

Beth’s eyes filled with another layer of tears, but there was something else there. A light, a ray of hope the woman hadn’t had before. “I never thought of that.”

Jamie kept her tone compassionate. “If you don’t do that for your son, who will?”

When the women left late that morning, Janice had an application, and Beth had a plan, a purpose. Proof again that Jamie’s work at St. Paul’s was important, that it did indeed carry on Jake’s legacy—offering people hope in the name of Jesus Christ.

And that morning, the results were so strong, so eternally important, Jamie could almost feel Jake working beside her.

F
OUR

Some volunteers stayed on at St. Paul’s indefinitely—people like Jamie and Aaron Hisel. But most worked for a season and then moved on. Which meant the little chapel always needed new volunteers.

As Jamie headed for the stairs that morning, she thought about Janice. From what she could tell, the woman would be a wonderful addition to the staff. Close enough to share the pain of visitors who needed comforting; strong enough to offer them the spiritual hope they needed.

But as wonderful as the morning’s outcome had been, Jamie was exhausted, emotionally drained. More so than usual. She headed for the break room and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the table. People were always bringing in cases of water or trays of baked goods for the volunteers. A way of encouraging them to continue the work they did at St. Paul’s.

Jamie peeled back the wrapper and took a bite. The issue with Sierra was weighing on her. How was she supposed to tell her daughter the truth? Should it happen in stages? Maybe start by telling her that her father was killed in the Twin Towers with hundreds of other firefighters, and then see if she remembered having someone who looked and acted like her daddy living with them after that?

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Jamie looked up to see Aaron step into the break area. “How’d it go?” He took a bottle of water and dropped to the nearest seat. “That first one looked tough.”

“It was.”

“A couple of volunteers from the weekend showed up.” He crossed his arms and gave a slight tilt of his head. “Let’s leave early. We can grab a bite to eat and take it to the park.”

“Battery Park?”

“Right.” He grinned, something she couldn’t remember seeing him do until well after the second anniversary of the attacks. “Central Park might make you late for Sierra.”

“True.” She pulled herself to her feet, finished her water, and waited for him. There was something different in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite make out. She didn’t say anything. She’d ask him later, on the way to the park.

He finished his drink, stood, and led the way down the stairs. They bid the other volunteers good-bye and left. The sun was overhead now, warming the early October afternoon. Jamie pulled a pair of sunglasses from her small bag and slipped them on. She and Aaron were comfortable together. Every moment between them didn’t need to be filled with conversation, and they stayed silent as they passed the crater where the towers had stood.

Jamie waited a few more blocks, then she shaded her eyes and looked at him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmmm?” Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Nothing, why?”

“Yes, something.” She looked straight ahead again. “I saw it in your eyes back at the chapel.”

The captain shoved his hands into his FDNY windbreaker and kept his tone even. “What’d you see?”

“I don’t know.” Their conversation had a casual pace. “Something I haven’t seen before. I’m not sure.”

“Hmmm.” The corners of Aaron’s lips raised just a notch. He turned into a café and looked at her over his shoulder. “Let’s get lunch.”

They ordered turkey sandwiches, chips, and two cans of pop, which the deli man packed in one bag. Aaron carried it, and ten minutes later they reached Battery Park and found a bench with a view of the harbor.

Aaron pulled out her lunch first, and then his. He was about to take a bite, when she bowed her head and started praying. “Thank You, God, for our food. Thank You that we can find meaning and purpose helping the people at St. Paul’s. You’re a good God, Lord, and You know the plans You have for us. Amen.”

A chuckle came from Aaron. “You insist on doing that, don’t you? Praying for me?”

Jamie smiled. “If I don’t do it, who will?”

She and the captain didn’t exactly see eye to eye on matters of faith, but she would never preach at him or force him to see things her way. It hadn’t worked for her when she was the one on Aaron’s side of the fence. It wouldn’t work for him, either.

“No one, and I’m fine with that.” He took a bite of his sandwich.

“I know, Aaron.” Her tone was mixed humor and mock boredom. “God doesn’t exist. Same drivel I used to drive Jake crazy with.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. Instead he took another bite. “Good sandwich.”

“Okay, fine.” She held up her turkey roll. “Good sandwich.”

“Brat.” He gave her a light nudge in the ribs with his elbow. “I’m not that stubborn. You could try a little harder.”

She felt her eyes dance in light of the easy banter. “Would it work?”

“No.” He set his sandwich down and laughed again. “But you could at least try.”

They finished their sandwiches, their arms occasionally brushing against each other. Two people had stepped up and become her support system since Jake died. Sue, who’d been married to Jake’s friend, Larry—another FDNY man lost on September 11—and Aaron.

She appreciated Aaron most at times like this, when she couldn’t rattle off another statistic about the terrorist attacks, couldn’t give another hug without running to the picture of Jake and falling in a heap on the floor. Times when the chance to smile or laugh gave her one more piece of tangible proof that yes, she would survive. Somehow she would keep waking up, keep breathing, keep raising Sierra the best she knew how, and the world wouldn’t come to an end.

Aaron finished his sandwich, tossed the wrapper in the bag, and set it on the ground. He turned to her and the look was back, the one she’d seen earlier in St. Paul’s break room.

“There it is again.” She had her sandwich in her hands, but she let them fall to her lap. “That look, the one I was telling you about earlier.”

“You don’t let up, do you?”

“No. You can’t hide anything from me.” Jamie stuffed what was left of her sandwich into the bag and pushed the wrapper in after it. “You shouldn’t even try.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.” She crossed her ankles and stared out at the harbor. Aaron would tell her what was on his mind. He always did. He was a man of few words, the type who communicated more through glances and nuances. And because of that, he was nothing like Jake. Certainly he lacked Jake’s way of lighting up a room, the charisma that came so naturally for Jake. No, Aaron’s appeal was subtler, but after sharing her grief with him over the past years, they were close enough that she was right.

Jamie could read him perfectly.

They were quiet again, watching a triple-decker boat of tourists sail past on their way to the Statue of Liberty.

Finally he cleared his throat and looked at her. “Can I throw something out there?”

“Of course.”

His eyes grew deeper than before. “How long, Jamie?”

“How long?” For the first time in a long while, Aaron had her stumped. “How long what?”

Aaron squinted at the sun’s reflection on the water. “How long before you’re ready to move on with life?”

“Move on?” Fear kicked Jamie in the gut and left her breathless. “I am moving on. Working at St. Paul’s is moving on.”

“Not that way.” He leaned over and dug his elbows into his knees. His eyes found hers. “Jamie, I have feelings for you.” His tone was heavy and certain. A long sigh sifted between his lips, and he looked out at the water again. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Jamie felt her eyes grow wide, frightened. She wasn’t sure what to do next. Had she read Aaron wrong from the beginning? He’d wanted friendship, right? So where had this…this change of heart come from? Or had it been there all along and she just hadn’t wanted to see it? Part of her wanted to back up slowly, turn around, and run for her life. But still another part needed to hear him out. Not because she was ready for what he was saying, or because she could even manage the thought of Aaron being anything more than her friend. But because deep in her soul she’d known he was going to say this.

She’d known it and been so afraid she hadn’t been able to admit it even to herself.

Her fingers shook. She laced them together to keep them from catching Aaron’s attention.

He looked at her again. “Don’t leave me hanging here, Jamie.” He forced a laugh. “I cough up the hardest words I’ve ever said and you’re speechless.”

“I don’t…” She raked her fingers through her hair and leaned hard against the back of the bench. “You’re one of my best friends, Aaron. I haven’t…I can’t…”

Aaron shifted his position so he faced her squarely. Then, while his eyes never left hers, he took her hands. His voice fell and mixed with the breeze coming off the water. “You can, Jamie. We’re together all the time, anyway. We’ve been through more than most people ever go through before having a first date.”

First date?

The words hit her like fingernails on a chalkboard. She could feel the blood draining from her face. What if Jake could somehow see her from heaven? What if he could see her sitting on a bench beside Aaron Hisel talking about a first date? The idea made her shudder.

“Look, Jamie.” Aaron straightened and his expression eased. “I know it’s going to take time, but I’ve been thinking about it.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “We belong together. I’ll take it as slow as you want to go. Just give it some thought, okay?”

Everything in her wanted to scream at him. No, it wasn’t okay. No, she wouldn’t think, even for a split second, about dating or loving or mar—

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. She wanted to turn around and see Jake standing there laughing, wanted to hear him telling her it was all a bad joke, that Captain Hisel certainly wasn’t suggesting they find their way into a relationship when Jake Bryan was the only man she’d ever love.

But she couldn’t do any of those things, because Jake was gone. He’d been gone three years and he wasn’t coming back. And the truth was, if she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life, it was only logical that she might wind up with someone like Aaron, someone who shared September 11 with her, who could relate to the losses she’d suffered because in some ways they were his losses too.

Aaron wasn’t quite six feet tall, but he had her beat by a few inches. He looked down at her, his eyes a sea of patience. “Just think about it, Jamie. Okay?”

“Okay.” She felt all disconnected, as if her mouth was operating separate from her heart and mind and soul. “I’ll think about it.”

A smile played in Aaron’s eyes. “Good.” He pulled her close and gave her an easy hug, then walked with her toward the ferry. It was earlier than she usually left, but she needed some alone time, time to process what he’d just told her.

All afternoon while she was waiting for Sierra to come home from school, and even while she helped her daughter with homework, Jamie tried to consider the idea of dating Aaron Hisel.

By the time she tucked Sierra in for the night and gave her butterfly kisses the way Jake used to do, she had willed herself to consider the idea without feeling sick with betrayal. He was handsome, a great guy who knew her pain better than any other man except Eric Michaels—and she’d never see him again.

She and Aaron shared an event that would forever color their pasts, forever shape their futures. Maybe he was right; maybe it was a logical idea, a way to ensure that she and Sierra wouldn’t be alone.

It wasn’t until she was falling asleep that she remembered something from earlier that day. They’d been eating lunch and Aaron’s arm had brushed up against hers. She’d made a note of it, but only in the most comfortable sense. Because Aaron was her friend.

But when her arm had brushed up against Jake’s arm—even the last week of his life, when they were jet skiing together—she felt the sensation throughout her body. Jake’s touch was electrifying; it had always been that way. But Aaron? Aaron’s was comfortable, nothing more.

So maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe there’d never be anyone who electrified her heart and soul the way Jake did, but maybe that was okay. It was still possible she and Aaron could build a relationship. After all, Jake was gone, and she was more lonely than she wanted to admit.

There was one problem.

She’d always been honest with Aaron. She could tell him she’d think about the possibility of the two of them; she could promise he would always be her friend no matter what, even if that meant a comfortable friendly out-together-sometimes relationship. That would be the truth. But if she told him she was open to the possibility of finding their way together, to the chance of falling in love with him, she’d be doing something she’d never done to him before.

She’d be lying.

The place in her heart for electricity and sparks and fireworks, the place that still went weak at the knees at his memory, would always belong to one man and one alone: Jake Bryan.

Even if she had to wait a lifetime to see him again.

F
IVE

Sue Henning was walking past a picture of Larry, hurrying from one room to another trying to clean the house for Jamie’s visit, when it hit her. Larry had been dead for three years. Three long years.

The anniversary of September 11 didn’t allow her time for private reflection, but sometimes—without warning—she would hear Larry’s hearty laugh, or smell a faint whiff of his cologne from the bathroom where it stood to this day, untouched. Something would trigger his memory, the image of his sweet freckled face—and the enormity of his loss would hit her all over again.

It happened less often these days, and that, in and of itself, was painful. How dare her mind and heart and soul move on without him, without the life they’d known and loved? They had two children, and once in a while something seven-year-old Katy said or the way little Larry—not quite four—waved at her with one finger, the same way her Larry had always waved at her, triggered the loss.

This time it was the photograph.

The look in Larry’s eyes reached out and stopped her in her tracks, demanded that here, now, she remember all he was and all she’d lost. Sue sucked in a fast breath and grabbed the edge of the countertop where the photo stood.

Larry…I haven’t forgotten.

She looked at the edges of his face, the way his eyes twinkled, and she tried to remember those same lines in motion, smiling and talking and loving her late at night. The memory of them was dimmer now, and there was nothing she could do about it. Time stole a little more of it every day.

The doorbell rang, and just as quickly the moment passed.

Jamie hadn’t been by in a week, and Sue missed her terribly. The two were closer than sisters since September 11. They talked about their kids—Katy and Sierra were still best friends—and the ways they spent their time. But mostly they talked about the past, about happy moments and memories that had no chance of surviving if they weren’t unfolded and held up for display every now and then.

Her friendship with Jamie was God’s gift, no doubt. A safe harbor, a place where they could each be completely vulnerable, no matter if the world thought it was time they moved on. And in the midst of that harbor, Sue had found in Jamie the best girlfriend she’d spent a lifetime wishing for.

She gave a last look at Larry’s picture and called out over her shoulder. “Just a minute…”

It was four o’clock in the afternoon, so Sierra would be with Jamie. The girls could hardly wait to play together and days like this—when the sun was still shining and winter seemed a month away—they could go out back and play the way they’d played since they were toddlers.

Her house was on Staten Island, same as Jamie’s. It gave them more room to spread out than they’d have had with a house in the city, and a way to feel disconnected from the hustle of Manhattan. She opened the door and grinned at Jamie. “I miss you, girl. You have to come more than once a week!”

Jamie hugged her. “I know. I was having withdrawals.”

Sierra stepped in, her blonde hair falling like a silk curtain over her shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. Henning. Is Katy upstairs?”

“Yes, honey.” Sue hugged Sierra. “She’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” Sierra ran off and stopped only a moment to brush her fingers through little Larry’s hair. “Hi, buddy. Whatcha doing?”

The boy was wearing a miniature Nets jersey, and he had a basketball under one arm. “Shooting hoops.”

Larry’s small plastic basketball hoop stood on one side of the living room, surrounded by a sofa and a loveseat. Sue didn’t mind the boy shooting baskets in the house. The child was practically fanatical about the sport; as long as he had a ball in his hands he was happy. And if he was happy, she and Jamie could hold a conversation without interruption.

Sierra ran off, and Sue motioned to a quieter alcove, a place where they could sit and still see little Larry, but not be hit by loose balls. Sue had made iced tea, and two tall glasses stood on a table surrounded on two sides by comfy chairs.

Jamie was quieter than usual. She dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs, planted her elbows on the arms, and covered her face. After a moment she let her hands fall to her lap and she looked at Sue. “I wanted to come earlier, but Sierra begged me to wait until she was out of school.” Jamie’s tone was serious, the corners of her eyes tight with the small lines of worry. She pursed her lips, her eyes locked on Sue’s. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

Sue took the seat closest to her friend and tried to seem interested. “Something at St. Paul’s?” Jamie almost always started their conversations with a story from St. Paul’s. There was a time when Sue wanted nothing more than to be at the quaint little chapel. For months she would’ve gladly gotten up every day and gone to St. Paul’s, walked the walls of memories and mementos, and pretended even for an hour that the souls lost that day were still vibrant and alive.

But never once had she considered volunteering there.

She was worried about Jamie. It was one thing to help out for a while. But Jamie had been working three days a week, sometimes four, ever since the first anniversary, the day they reopened the chapel to the public.

Jamie shook her head; her face was tight and pale. “Not St. Paul’s. Captain Hisel.”

“Captain Hisel?” Sue wrinkled her nose. Jamie and the captain were friends; everyone knew that. Now Sue felt her heart skip a beat as she waited for the news. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” She gave a quick nod. “Nothing like that.”

Sue felt her heart skitter back into a normal rhythm. That was one thing about September 11. Before that day, Sue was vaguely aware of tragedy; now in some morbid sort of way, she expected it. As if by expecting it, the eventual blows life dealt would somehow be easier to take. “Okay. Then what am I not going to believe?”

“I wanted to call you yesterday, but I had to work through it.”

Sue was even more confused. “Work through something with the captain?”

“Aaron.”

“Okay, Aaron.” Sue took a sip of her tea. “It’s still weird to think of him that way, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Jamie sat back in her chair and gripped the arms. “Wait till you hear this.”

Sue waited. The quieter she was, the better chance Jamie would get to the point. At that moment the girls came barreling down the stairs.

Katy skipped into the room, breathless and happy. Sierra was close on her heels. “Can we go outside and play?”

Sue looked at Jamie and caught her look of approval. She smiled at Katy and pointed to the closet. “Get your coat. It’s almost dark and the nights are getting colder now.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Sierra raised her eyebrows at Jamie. “Me too?”

“Yes, silly. You too.” Jamie was clearly trying to keep her tone light.

When the girls were gone, Sue looked at Jamie. “So…?”

“Okay.” She breathed in slow through her nose. “Here’s what happened.” Jamie’s fingers came together. The tips of her knuckles were white. “Yesterday after working at St. Paul’s, Aaron and I went to Battery Park with our lunch. I didn’t think anything of it, I mean, at the time I didn’t, anyway. We eat out together all the time, especially after working at the chapel.”

Sue nodded. “All the time.”

“But yesterday there was something different in his eyes. I couldn’t put my finger on it while we were at St. Paul’s, but when we were sitting on a bench at the park, watching the tourist boats in the harbor, I asked him about it.” Jamie paused. Her shoulders sank a notch, and the lines on her forehead grew more pronounced. “He told me he has feelings for me, Sue. That he could picture the two of us together some day, and that…that I should at least think about it.”

Relief flooded Sue’s veins. Relief and sorrow all at the same time. Her question to her friend was both kind and pointed. “Can you blame him, Jamie?”

Jamie leaned forward. Her eyes held an angst Sue had never seen there before. “Can I blame him?” She uttered a sound that fell short of a laugh. “I wasn’t sure whether to kick him or run for my life.”

Sue tried to picture her feisty friend having that reaction to Captain Hisel’s admission. “Jamie, you didn’t kick him!”

“No.” She bit the inside of her lip. “But I didn’t run, either.”

“Because…”

“Because maybe I didn’t want to run.” Her voice cracked. “And maybe that’s worse.”

Sue set her tea down. Her heart hurt for her friend. Moving on was going to be painful for both of them, but it was bound to come. Time would see to that. She reached out and took hold of Jamie’s knee. Her voice was just loud enough to hear. “Because maybe deep down you’ve considered the possibility yourself? Is that it?”

“I don’t know.” Jamie’s lower lip and chin quivered. “I don’t know, Sue. I only know that I feel this terrible guilt, as if I’m betraying Jake by even talking about this.”

For a long while, Sue said nothing. There were no rule books or guidelines about how to start living again. Some FDNY widows had already remarried, some not much more than a year after the attacks. Neither Sue nor Jamie could imagine moving on so quickly, but everyone handled grief differently.

And not everyone had a husband like Larry or Jake.

Sue tucked her feet beneath her up onto the chair and stared out the window. The girls were swinging, pushing their toes toward the sky and giggling all the while. She looked back at Jamie. “I’ve wondered about this, about whether I could ever even find another man attractive after Larry.”

Jamie massaged her temples. “You never told me.”

“It’s like you said, just mentioning the idea feels like a crime.”

“But when you do…” Jamie looked at the floor for a moment, and then back up at Sue. “When you do think about it, how do you usually end up feeling?”

Peace hugged Sue’s shoulders and settled in beside her. She spread her hands out before her and nodded toward little Larry and the girls in the backyard. “Like this is enough. My children, my memories. They’re all I need. At least for now, until God shows me something different.”

“What if that’s what He’s showing me?”

“Well…” Sue took hold of her tea again. She ran her fingers along the dewy moisture that had built up on the glass. “Do you, you know, do you feel anything when you’re with Capt—“ She caught herself. “When you’re with Aaron?”

Jamie closed her eyes and scrunched her face. When she opened them she looked more bewildered than before. “Not really.” She lifted her hands from her lap and dropped them again. “But the idea of being more than friends isn’t altogether horrible, either.”

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah, I know.” She stood and paced across the room. For a few moments she watched little Larry make three baskets in a row. Then she came back and sat in her chair again. “No one ever teaches you how to do this.”

“No.”

“I’ve been thinking what would Jake want, and even there I’m not sure.” Jamie ran her finger around the rim of her iced tea glass, her eyes distant. “He wouldn’t want me alone, not for the rest of my life.” She looked up. “But how could he want me with another man?”

“I’ve thought about that too.” Sue’s stomach turned. The conversation was as difficult for her as it was for Jamie. They hadn’t wanted their marriages to end; they’d simply been cut short. And in their place was a void that even the best memories couldn’t fill completely. “Of course Jake wouldn’t want you to fall in love with someone else, not if he were here. But he isn’t. He’s gone, and so is Larry.”

“But it feels so wrong, like they aren’t really dead unless…until we move on with life, find someone new.” Jamie’s voice was thick with emotion. “You know?”

“Yes.” Sue thought of something. “There is something else.”

“What?”

“What’s Aaron think of your faith?”

Jamie hesitated, but only for a minute. “He…he teases me about it, especially when I say I’m praying for him. He tells me there’s no point.”

“Hmmm. I didn’t know that.”

“Some of the guys at the department struggle with faith, at least that’s what Aaron tells me. I hadn’t thought much about that.” She took a sip from her glass and looked at Sue over the rim. “Too busy trying to sort through my feelings, I guess.”

Quiet came over them again. Sue wasn’t sure what to say. She was certain a relationship with Aaron should never materialize as long as he didn’t share Jamie’s faith. But it was probably too soon to say anything. Still, she couldn’t stay silent; her faith wouldn’t allow it. She bit her tongue and tried to pick the right words.

After another minute, Jamie said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What?” Sue crossed her legs.

“You’re thinking Aaron isn’t a believer. Right?”

Sue pursed her lips. “Was it written on my forehead?”

“No.” Jamie sank back into her chair. She sounded defeated. “In your eyes.”

“I’m not saying I’m right, Jamie, but if I were you I’d keep his friendship and consider anything more a closed subject.”

“Except for one thing.”

“What?”

“Jake didn’t do that to me. He loved me despite my lack of faith…and look what happened.”

“You were kids when you met, that’s different.” Sue could’ve said more, but she didn’t want to push, not now. “God will make it all clear to you—however things work out.”

“Yes.” The lines on Jamie’s forehead eased completely and her eyes looked more peaceful. “I’ll keep you posted. I guess the whole discussion has made me wonder if it’s time to move on, to think of myself as single, not widowed.”

Sue smiled, the first time either of them had done so since they sat down. “Since you brought it up…”

“Brought what up?”

“Moving on.” Sue uncrossed her legs and slid to the edge of her chair. “Jamie, maybe it’s time you stopped working at St. Paul’s.”

Jamie’s eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open. “Quit St. Paul’s?” Jamie uttered a hard exhale and raked her fingers through her dark hair. “St. Paul’s and Sierra—that’s all that drives me, Sue. God’s given me those two as a reason to get up every morning, to keep existing even when I feel like I’m already dead.”

Sue put her hand on Jamie’s knee again. “But maybe that feeling is because of St. Paul’s, because you’re reminded of September 11 over and over again.”