Over Her Head (31 page)

In one of his courses at the academy, there had been a segment on the stages of grief. Anger had been one of them. He could
imagine himself being stuck in that stage forever. Maybe Tanya was lucky to have a faith like this that would get her through
it.

“I’m glad you had him to turn to.”

She nodded. “He was faithful. People want to know how to help, too, you know? But sometimes what helps the most is just to
talk about Randi. They try to change the subject, as if it’s going to hurt me, but it’s just the opposite. When I talk about
her, in a strange way she’s still alive, even if it’s only in my memory.”

“It’s natural to talk about the ones we love. But when you talk about Jesus, it still seems strange to me. Like he’s a real
person—as real as Randi.”

“He is real. And I think you’re beginning to see that.”

Maybe. “What’s that verse about seeing through a glass darkly? He’s just a shadow to me right now.”

“Give him time,” she said softly. “And you’ll see him face-to-face.”

After dawdling over breakfast and doing dishes and talking about everything from the nature of grief and the definition of
healing to whether bacon was better crispy or curly, she finally glanced at the clock.

“I should go.”

“Why?” It was surprising how easy it was to just be with her and celebrate the moment. He’d be happy to string all of these
moments together all day, the way a kid made a daisy chain on a lazy summer afternoon.

“Because it’s Sunday morning, and the service starts in half an hour.”

It did? “Which service?”

“I go to Glendale Bible Fellowship. It’s just on the other side of the river.”

So did his family and Laurie’s. “I know where it is. How about I walk you over there?”

So that was how Nick found himself beside Tanya on the river path, ambling toward the bridge. The weather seemed to have decided
to prove the forecast wrong, and the snow clouds had cleared away, leaving the day sparkling bright instead of gray and damp.
He wasn’t into looking for symbols and meanings in things. But today, with the memory of Tanya’s words still warm in his mind
and the endless vault of heaven arching over them and the river whispering to itself down the bank, he could almost believe
that maybe the Creator of all this was trying to tell him something.

Like he’d done something right, there in the kitchen that morning. Admitted something. Started something. Whatever it was,
the world seemed to be pretty happy about it all.

When they reached the part of the path that took them past the sandbar, his instinct was to quicken his step a little and
get Tanya over the painful part as quickly as possible. But she had other ideas.

“It’s shrinking.” She pointed at the bar. Water swirled around it, carrying it away a little at a time.

“Soon it’ll be gone, and the river will make another one somewhere else. The Susquanny never stays the same for more than
a few weeks at a time.”

“I never thought that something like a river would change. Especially—well, especially that spot. It’s kind of like a memorial
for me. You know. Where she was found.”

“It can still be that. But it’s not the sandbar that’s the memorial. It’s your love for her, isn’t it?”

She nodded and moved on. They walked in silence for several hundred yards, until they could see the bridge straddling the
river, its awkward wooden bones dark against the bright sky.

There were people on it, just standing there looking down.

“That’s where she went in,” Tanya said. “Right about where those people are. You can see the support beams sticking out from
here.”

They were only a few hundred feet away now. Nick stopped. “Hey. That’s Colin and Laurie and the kids. What are they doing
up there?”

“Debbie told me Anna was phobic about the bridge. Wouldn’t go on it. Wouldn’t even ride in a car across it.”

“Maybe. But there she is.”

“They must have released her from the hospital. And Debbie must have been wrong about the phobia thing. That’ll teach me to
listen to gossip.”

“I’d still be interested in knowing what really happened when Kyle found her standing in the water. You’d probably like to
know that, too.”

“I already know. She went down there to see if she could help.”

“Did someone tell you that?”

“She’s Laurie Hale’s child,” Tanya said simply. “Why else?”

He looked at her in wonder as he heard the softness in her tone. She’d forgiven Laurie, it was clear. A bit of white light
now lived in her heart instead of that black lump she’d talked about earlier. And it was real forgiveness, too. This woman
was incapable of playacting or putting on a face for people. She had that in common with Laurie, whose passions were right
out there in the open for people to see.

Love. Forgiveness. All there for the taking.

Tanya nudged him in the ribs. “It’s nearly eleven.”

She sounded as though she expected him to head back to his house. As they walked, she moved away from him a little, as if
she wanted to give him permission to go back. He closed the gap so that instead they walked side by side.

“No,” he said. “I think I’ll go with you. You never know. Maybe I’ll learn something new.”

“Maybe you will,” she agreed.

Across the river, the bells announcing the service began to ring. It took Nick a second to recognize the tune, and when he
did, he grinned. He could appreciate a God with a sense of humor.

It was “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

L
aurie glanced into
the backseat as Colin braked to approach the bridge. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, sweetie?”

Anna didn’t look okay. Her fingers gripped the stem of the rose so tightly that Laurie thought she’d snap it. On her right
hand, a narrow bandage formed a bump over the cotton ball where the IV needle had been, and a small blue bruise had spread
on either side of it. “I’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have to do this today.” Colin parked the car on the side of the road and looked at his daughter in the rearview
mirror. “We can wait ’til you’re stronger.”

“I want to do it now. I need to.” Anna got out and, wearing a determined expression, led the way to the middle of the bridge.
Laurie, Colin, and Tim followed, gathering around her at the rail as though their bodies would protect her from the wind .
. . and from the stares of the curious as they drove past.

They’d brought her home from the hospital yesterday, and she’d spent the day in bed. Laurie still wasn’t convinced Anna should
be going to church today, but Anna had insisted.

“I meant both things,” Colin said. With a gentle finger, he smoothed a lock of windblown hair off Anna’s pale cheek. “This
and what we’re going to do at church.”

“I know.” She looked up at him, then at Laurie. “I meant both things, too.”

“Mom, it’s freezing out here,” Tim complained.

“We won’t be long,” Laurie said to him. “This is important.”

Anna looked out over the dark rush of the water as Colin bowed his head. “Father God, thank you that we can stand here together
as a family, whole and complete. I pray that you’ll be with us this morning, and especially that you’ll give your strength
to Anna. Thank you for protecting her and for bringing her through this experience and out the other side. Thank you for reminding
us that we can count on you, no matter what. Amen.”

Laurie slid an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “Father, I’m so glad that you’re with us today, just the way you promised. Thank
you for helping me realize that even when the water goes over my head, and over Anna’s head, too, you’re there with us. Thank
you for loving me back to you, and for making me see that it’s all about you, not about me or the church or anything else.
Thank you for keeping Anna safe, and for bringing us together again. Help me go to Tanya today and ask her to forgive me for
taking offense at Thanksgiving. Help me be a good friend to Janice, the way she’s been such a good friend to me. In Jesus’
name, amen.”

She nudged Tim. “Thank you that we can be a family,” he said, the way he always did when he said grace at the table. Then
he added, “Thank you for bringing Anna home. Please help her be quick so we can get off this bridge and not look weird. Amen.”

Anna snorted, then sobered. “Father in heaven, I’m not sure how I’m going to get through today, but I’m asking for your help.
I’m sorry I was so stupid about the pills. Thank you for not letting me get away with it. Thank you for Kyle, and for my mom
and dad, and even for Tim. And, Father, thank you for Randi, too.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed. “If she can see us,
tell her I’m sorry, and that this is for her. Amen.”

Laurie lifted her head and watched as Anna raised her arm and tossed the pink rose out into space as far as she could. It
tumbled gracefully through the air, end over end, until it landed on the surface of the river. The water caught it up in a
joyful swirl, like a delighted girl with a treasured gift, and ran away with it under the bridge and out of their sight.

Laurie took a deep breath, the air plunging into her lungs as clean as cold water. “Amen,” she said. “Let’s go.”

It took only a minute to drive the two blocks to Glendale Bible Fellowship, where people streamed through the front doors
as the bells rang a welcoming peal overhead. As Laurie took her seat, she caught Cale Dayton’s eye while he fussed with his
lapel microphone. His eyes were comforting and warm, and she let his assurance that they were doing the right thing soothe
her as they sang the opening hymns. He had told her that what he’d planned would happen in lieu of their usual “prayer and
praise” time after the sermon, so instead of dashing off to Sunday school, Anna and Tim stayed with her and Colin.

Was it just a coincidence that Cale’s text was Psalm 124? Since she’d talked to him about it yesterday, Laurie thought not.
His encouragement comforted her, gave her courage for what was to come.

When he was finished, Cale laid his Bible on the table he used in lieu of a podium and descended the three stairs from the
stage so that he stood on the same level as everyone else.

“We’re going to do something a little different today,” he said. Behind him, Dorinda Platt began to play soft notes of praise
on the piano. “In light of what you all might have read in the papers this morning or watched on TV last night, I think this
congregation needs some healing. Would Colin, Laurie, Anna, and Tim Hale please come up here?”

She’d prepared the kids as best she could, but it still surprised Laurie when Anna led the way. When they’d gathered up at
the front, Anna’s hand found its way into hers, and she squeezed it, as though strength could flow between them.

Maybe it could.

Cale took a deep breath. “I would like to be the first in this congregation to publicly apologize to Anna Hale.” He held out
his hands. “Please forgive me for thinking for even one moment that you might have been in some way responsible for Randi
Peizer’s death.”

Anna’s lip trembled, and a tear tracked its way down her cheek. “I forgive you,” she whispered, and was enveloped in Cale’s
big bear hug.

“Forgive me for the same, sweetheart,” Laurie said.

Anna nodded, and Laurie folded her into her arms. When Laurie stepped back, Janice Edgar took her place.

“Please forgive me for believing that you told a lie about my son,” she choked.

Anna barely got the words of forgiveness out before she burrowed into Janice’s arms, hugging her tightly.

When Janice went back to her seat to cry on her husband’s shoulder, with awkward pats on the back from Kyle, Tanya Peizer
stood up in the very last pew near the door.

Laurie swiped at her wet cheeks with one hand as Tanya marched up to the front. She seemed to move in slow motion as Laurie’s
brain worked frantically. What would Tanya say? Would she take advantage of this public opportunity to repeat the things she’d
said at Thanksgiving?

Well, let her. After Laurie spoke first.

She stepped forward and took Tanya’s hand. “Please forgive me for offending you at Thanksgiving, Tanya.”

Tanya shook her head, and from the front pew, where Maggie and her family sat, Laurie heard a gasp.

“I should never have said those things,” Tanya said clearly. Her voice, which Laurie had never heard raised above a murmur,
could be heard throughout the sanctuary. “Yes, I was grieving and angry and wanted to strike out at whoever took my girl from
me. But I shouldn’t have struck at you. I want to ask forgiveness from both you and Anna for the things I said, and to tell
you that I want to start all over and be friends. Real friends, who stand by each other and support each other, no matter
what.”

Anna was the first one to throw herself into Tanya’s arms, and Laurie’s own arms stretched wide as she hugged them both. After
that, it seemed as though the entire congregation needed to cleanse itself of all the suspicion and gossip and innuendo that
had been seeping through it over the past few weeks.

Laurie lost count of the people who asked her for forgiveness. She was just hugging Debbie Jacks when she saw her cousin Nick
step in front of her.

She blinked, gulped back her tears, and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“I know,” he said. “Big surprise, huh?”

Her throat still wouldn’t produce any sound. Speechlessly, she nodded, and then the light dawned. “You’re here with Tanya,”
she got out.

“This must be my day for learning about forgiveness,” he said, and glanced at Anna, who was getting a bear hug from two of
her classmates.

“Mine, too,” Laurie said.

“Forgive me for having to investigate her?”

“Of course. You were doing your job.”

“Think she’ll feel the same?”

“You’d better ask her.”

Anna chose that moment to turn, and her jaw dropped as she took in the sight of her cousin, who hadn’t been in church since
he was her age.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice raspy from too many tears.

“I’m here for you,” he said. “I want to be sure you don’t hold it against me for making you part of the investigation.”