The Chance: A Novel (35 page)

F
ive minutes before Caroline’s lunch break, Ryan walked into the doctor’s office where she worked and approached the front
desk. Only one woman worked behind the counter, and Ryan guessed it was her. Even now, in her early or mid-forties, the woman was beautiful.

“Hi.” He kept a professional demeanor. “Are you Caroline Tucker?”

“Yes.” She positioned herself in front of her computer. “Checking in?”

“No.” He wanted to explain himself quickly. He looked around to make sure no one was watching. “I’m a guitar player for Peyton Anders.”

Her hands slowly fell from the keyboard. “Why . . . are you here?”

“Peyton told me about what happened. My wife and I . . . we wanted to find out what happened to you. Whether you were okay.”

Shame colored the woman’s face, and she folded her hands tightly together. She looked over her shoulder and then back at Ryan. “Could you wait outside? I have a break in two minutes.”

“Definitely.” Ryan walked outside and leaned against the redbrick wall. The woman must’ve been shocked. Peyton said over a decade had passed since the two of them had talked. A few minutes later, Caroline came outside. She was shaking despite the afternoon sunshine. Ryan spoke first. “Can I take you for coffee?”

She looked doubtful, afraid, even. “I’ll drive.”

“Fine.” Ryan understood how the situation must’ve looked. A stranger walks into her office and asks about her affair with Peyton Anders? Of course Caroline was guarded. Ryan followed her to her car.
Lord, use me to help her.

They drove in silence to a coffee shop a mile away. He paid for their drinks and sandwiches, and they sat at a table in the
back corner of the room. She held her nervous hands in her lap and stared at him. “How did you find me?”

“Peyton said you worked at a doctor’s office in Savannah.”

She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. Then she folded her arms, hugging her elbows to her thin body. “What does he want?”

“Nothing.” Ryan needed to get to the point. “Did you keep the baby, the one you had with him?”

Outrage sparked in her eyes, but it faded as quickly as it came. In its place was fear. “I have a son. He’s ten.”

Ryan felt his heart sink. “Peyton said your marriage . . . it was in trouble back then.”

“Of course. My husband . . . he was the love of my life. We grew distant. We let things fall apart.” A sound more cry than laugh came from her. “Peyton was a diversion. It . . . lasted two years.” She looked more nervous than before. “Why is he talking about it now?”

“I don’t think he told anyone else.” Ryan had no proof, but he believed it, anyway. “My wife and I, we both prayed about you, about the situation. Peyton has a show here tonight.”

“I know.” Caroline looked down, her shame tangible. “I’m glad he didn’t come see me.”

Ryan wasn’t sure what to say. When he finished his sandwich, he pulled the check from his wallet. “Here.” He handed it to her. “Peyton wanted you to have this.”

Caroline looked confused. Several seconds passed after she opened it before anger set in on her features. She ripped the check in half and in half again and dropped the pieces on the table in front of Ryan. Her eyes grew damp, and her hands shook harder than before. “The guy’s a millionaire, and he thinks he can
buy
me off? For twenty thousand dollars?” She
smoothed her hands over her black slacks. “You tell him he can have his money.”

“I’m sorry.” Ryan was angry with himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. “Peyton wanted me to tell you he was sorry.”

She lifted her chin, clearly trying to preserve whatever dignity remained. “My son and I are fine. You tell him that. We don’t need his pity or his money.” She breathed out and waited. Fifteen seconds . . . thirty. Gradually, he watched a calm come over her. “We have our faith in God. And we have each other.”

Ryan felt his heart respond. “My wife and I, we’re believers, too. Is there anything we can do, anything we can pray about?”

For a single moment Caroline looked like she might dismiss the possibility, deny needing anything, even prayer. But as she stared out the window, tears spilled onto her cheeks. She sniffed and faced Ryan again. “Please . . . pray for my daughter. I lost touch with her after . . .” A series of small sobs caught in her throat, and she covered her face with her hands.

The woman’s torment was as real as the air between them.
You led me to look for her, God, to see if she was okay. Show me how I can help . . . show me my part in this.

Ryan waited, and finally, she took the napkin from the table and pressed it to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I have time.”

She sniffed again and took a few sips of her coffee. “Thank you.” Again she looked out the window. “My affair with Peyton . . .” Her eyes found his. “I lost my family over it. When I told my husband what happened . . . and that I was pregnant, he blew up. He kicked me out.” She wiped at another couple of tears. “Two days later, he took our daughter
and moved across the country to San Diego. She was fifteen.” Caroline held the napkin to her face again. Seconds passed before she could find the rest of the words. “Ellie and I . . . we haven’t talked since.”

Ryan worked on his espresso. The weight of her confession settled around him like so many sandbags.

“My affair cost me everything.”

Ryan had questions, but he wanted to wait, to give the moment the space it deserved. “I’m sure she misses you.”

“I don’t think so.” Caroline seemed to gather herself, as if trying to find her way back to the controlled and collected woman she’d been at the doctor’s office. But her tears kept falling. “I’ve written to her. A letter every week since she left.”

“You know her address?”

“Alan’s mother lives in San Diego. I send the letters to her house. They’ve never been returned. I have to assume Ellie is getting them.” Caroline pressed the napkin to her face again. “She’s never written back.” The sounds of the coffee shop filled the moment. Caroline’s grief looked like it could kill her. “Ellie lost a lot, too. She didn’t have a choice about the move. Her best friend—” She stopped short. Almost like she didn’t want to say too much. “He was a basketball player at their high school. They were very close. As far as I know, they lost touch, too.”

Ryan searched his brain. How could he help her? And why had God placed him here? He didn’t want to bring up the money again, but he had to ask. “Peyton’s money . . . it would at least help you find Ellie.”

“I don’t want his money.” She spoke the words as if they were poison, as if she couldn’t wait to get them out of her mouth. Another few sips of her coffee, and she looked more
composed. “I’ve been saving, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve called around, searched the Internet for her.” Fresh tears filled her eyes, and her fingers trembled again. “She doesn’t want to be found.” Caroline’s voice faded. “It’s not about the money.”

He understood. They had run out of coffee and conversation. Ryan knew only one thing to do. “Can I pray with you?”

She folded her hands in her lap and hung her head. “Please.”

Ryan leaned closer, his voice quiet. “Father, we ask for a miracle, that You would bring Caroline’s daughter back into her life and that You would erase the years of hurt and loneliness and pain between them.” He paused. “You know where Ellie is. Please use Caroline’s letters to change Ellie’s mind and bring her back. We ask for a miracle of reconciliation. In the powerful name of Jesus, amen.”

Caroline didn’t say anything, and as Ryan opened his eyes, he understood why. She was crying again, using the napkin to hide her face. As if an ocean of tears could never adequately express her sadness over losing her daughter. When Caroline could speak, she stood and thanked Ryan. Then she pointed to the restroom. “I need a minute. I have to get back to work.”

“I’ll keep praying. My wife and I. If it’s any consolation, we both think God is working on Peyton.”

“Pray that He’ll work on my husband’s heart.” Tears shone in her eyes. “I don’t want Peyton Anders. I want my family back.”

Ryan understood. “I’ll pray for that.” He gave her his number. “If my wife and I can do anything, please call.”

He left wondering about the past hour and why God had crossed their paths. Was Ryan supposed to help find Caroline’s daughter? He called Molly on the way back to the venue. She had good news. A connection had been made between the
Atlanta Hawks and the sick little boy whose family was working with her foundation. Since Peyton Anders had a four-day break after tonight’s show, the boy’s dream was set to take place in forty-eight hours—provided there was a Game 6 in the series.

Ryan would meet up with Molly and the boy and his family, and they would connect with Nolan Cook before the tip-off. Then the boy and his family would have courtside seats for the game. Ryan could hardly wait.

Especially after the heartbreaking coffee with Caroline Tucker.

Chapter
Fourteen

R
yan Kelly had found her.

On his first day off from touring with Peyton Anders, he located the doctor’s office where Caroline Tucker worked. It wasn’t hard, really. He Googled Savannah and found a listing for every doctor’s office. Sixteen calls later, he dialed a number and said the same thing he said every time someone picked up. “Caroline Tucker, please.”

“She’s at lunch.” The voice on the end didn’t hesitate. “Can I help you?”

“Uh . . .” The response had surprised him. “That’s okay. I’ll . . . I’ll call back.” When he hung up, Ryan pulled his notepad close and scribbled the doctor’s name and contact information. He checked the tour schedule. They had a month left on the road, but tomorrow they were playing the Savannah Civic Center. Chills ran down his neck and arms as he went looking for Peyton.

Ryan knocked on the singer’s dressing room door.

Peyton sounded distracted. “Come in.”

Ryan opened the door and stepped inside. The singer had a
can of beer in his hand, and he was looking over a spreadsheet. He grinned at Ryan. “We’re making a fortune on this tour.” He held up the document. “Proof positive.” He crossed the room and took a spot on one of the couches. “You need to talk?” He took a long swig of beer and stared at his spreadsheet again.

Ryan waited, allowing the moment the seriousness it deserved. “I found her.”

Peyton kept his eyes on the numbers. “Who?”

“Caroline.” Ryan watched for the singer’s reaction. “Caroline Tucker.”

Slowly, Peyton lowered the paper and set it on the coffee table. “I never asked you to find her.”

“I wanted to.” Ryan wasn’t worried about Peyton’s reaction. If things got bad between them, he didn’t need the job. Studio work was waiting for him back home. “I haven’t talked to her, but I’m going to see her when we’re in Savannah.”

Peyton massaged his temple and then the bridge of his nose. “I never should’ve told you.”

“There could be a child involved.” Ryan paused, containing his frustration. “If she had the baby, if she kept it, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Truthfully?” He lifted his eyes to Ryan. “No. I’ll never see the child. Why would I want to know?”

Ryan took the couch adjacent to the one Peyton sat on. He sat at the edge of the cushion and lowered his voice. “You have an obligation.”

“Yeah, well,” Peyton muttered the words. “She should’ve protected herself.” He took a drink from his beer. “It’s not my fault.”

Ryan felt sick. “I’d like you to go with me. I know where she works.”

Peyton hesitated. Then he leaned toward a built-in drawer, jerked it open, and pulled out what looked like a checkbook. Without explaining himself, he took a pen from the same drawer and scribbled something fast and furious across the front of the top check.

He ripped it from the book and handed it to Ryan. A quick glance showed that it was for twenty thousand dollars.

Ryan folded it. “She may not want it.”

“You can offer.” For the first time since Ryan entered the room, Peyton’s expression softened. “I’d feel better if she took it.” He stood and pulled another beer from the small refrigerator. He looked over his shoulder at Ryan. “Want one?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Right.” Peyton popped the top and returned to his chair. For a long time he didn’t say anything. “You excited about the show? It’s sold out.”

“I’m still thinking about Caroline Tucker.” Ryan stood and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe you should think about her, too.” He walked toward the door.

“Wait.”

Ryan slipped the check into his shirt pocket and looked back. “Yes?”

“Tell her . . . tell Caroline I’m sorry.”

His words caught Ryan off guard. “I will.” As he left Peyton’s bus, Ryan was encouraged. God had put him on this tour for a reason.

He believed he would know why before the last show.