The Chance: A Novel (43 page)

He blinked a few times and squinted at her. “Ellie?”

She looked over her shoulder. Her dad was back near the salon, leaning against the wall, his head low. This had to be fast. She would break down here on the sidewalk if she waited another minute to get to her car. “Here.” She pulled the ten from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. “Don’t buy whiskey.”

He took the money, his eyes welling up the way they always did when she finished a shift. “I won’t.”

“Not beer, either. Get milk and a burger, okay?”

“Milk and a burger.” He nodded, scurrying to a sitting position and placing the money in his threadbare backpack. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay.” She stood. “See you later.”

“Yes.” He pressed his back against the wall, more awake. “You know what I do when I’m finished with my busy day, Ellie?”

She hesitated, feeling the urgency of getting home, getting to the box of letters. “What?”

“I talk to God about you.” He dabbed at his eyes. “I ask the good Lord to bless you, Ellie.”

Her heart felt his kindness in a way she needed. Especially with eleven years of her mother’s letters sitting in a box at her feet. “Thanks, Jimbo.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “That means a lot.” She picked up the box again. “Be safe.” She swapped a look with him, then crossed the dark parking lot to her car. The asphalt felt like thick sand, and she was breathing faster than she should have been. But she wasn’t looking back. Not now or ever. She unlocked her car, slid the box onto the passenger seat, climbed behind the wheel, and slammed her door.

Was she dreaming? Did that really just happen? She let her head fall onto the steering wheel. How could he do this to her?
He had
lived
with her for five of those years. One season after another, her saying good morning to him over breakfast and walking past him in the hallway and wishing him good night before she headed off to bed. All without telling her the truth. How was that even possible? He’d kept her mother’s letters from her all that time? The number of days and months and years screamed through her soul. Nearly eleven years? Hiding away letters her mother had written to her? How could he do that and not die from the guilt?
Breathe, Ellie . . . breathe. You’ll get through this.
She lifted her head and looked at the box beside her. The large cardboard container filled with unopened letters her mom had been sending since they moved.

She started the engine and backed out of the space. And in that moment she suddenly understood why her father had looked different. It was his eyes. He no longer looked hard and angry, the way he had since they moved to San Diego. Ellie knew it with every loud, painful beat of her heart. She glanced at the spot where she’d been talking to her dad. She didn’t plan to look. It just happened. The parking lot lights were bright enough that she could see him. He hadn’t moved. As she drove past, she saw proof that she was right. The anger that had defined him for so long was gone. She knew because he was leaning against the wall, looking at her, and doing something she had never in all her life seen her father do.

He was weeping.

Chapter
Seventeen

E
llie heard noises coming from the bedroom.

She had already gone through their nighttime routine, and usually by now Kinzie would be half asleep. But not tonight. Ellie stood in the dark hallway and peeked through her partly open bedroom door.

Kinzie was on her knees beside her bed.

A week had gone by since their zoo trip, and Kinzie hadn’t missed a single night of praying. At least that’s what she told her mother. But this was the first time Ellie had seen her daughter on her knees. Ellie tilted her head, touched by the scene. The wood floor had to feel hard beneath her nightgown. The window was open, but no breeze filled the room. The early summer night was hotter than usual.

Kinzie fixed the bottom of her nightgown so it wasn’t bunched up. She didn’t seem to have her eyes closed the way she usually did when she prayed at dinnertime. Instead, she looked up toward the window and the night sky. “Hi, Jesus.” She sounded so confident that God was listening. “It’s me, Kinzie. I’m back.” Kinzie’s voice was barely a whisper, but Ellie
could hear every word. “Remember? I like to pray out loud when I’m by myself. Because it’s just you and me.” She adjusted her nightgown again. “I know you’re with me, Jesus, because you put the stars in the sky right over my bed.”

She giggled quietly and looked through the window again. “I keep thinking about Nolan Cook, the famous basketball player, and the way my mommy looked when she talked about him. If they used to love each other, then maybe they still do. Right?”

Ellie felt a chill run down her arms. Kinzie was thinking about Nolan? To the point of praying about him? She took half a step closer so she wouldn’t miss a word.

“Anyway, I want to pray for my mommy.” Kinzie’s shoulders drooped a little. “Please help her life be happy. I know she’s sad a lot. She doesn’t have her family because everything is broken. And she doesn’t have Nolan, either.” She itched her elbow. “Most of all, Mommy doesn’t have you. And that means she doesn’t have her happy-ever-after.”

Ellie blinked back tears. She had no idea her lack of faith mattered this much to Kinzie.

“That’s all for tonight, Jesus. Thank you. Love, your new friend, Kinzie.” She stood up, rubbed her knees a few times, and climbed into bed, probably satisfied with her prayer. But Ellie would never know that satisfaction, never share a moment like this with Kinzie. The fact that she couldn’t join her daughter in faith and prayer was one more price she would pay for her messed-up family. Even though she didn’t believe, she knew this much for sure as she finished the dishes and went to bed, and even the next day at the salon:

She would remember Kinzie’s prayer as long as she lived.

E
llie was on a break, organizing bottles of color on the backroom shelf, when she heard the sports announcer on TV say something about Nolan. She’d kept the channel on ESPN throughout the play-offs—especially on days like this, when the Hawks had a pivotal game. Atlanta took the series four to two over the Magic, clinching the win last week. The Eastern Conference Championship was tied at one game apiece, and today was the third game.

A win against the Celtics was critical.

Ellie dusted her hands on her apron and found an empty chair closest to the TV. Three sportscasters were lined up at a table, and the topic had turned to Nolan. “He’s definitely got the nation’s attention.” The statement came from the older announcer, a regular with ESPN for a decade.

The three bantered about Nolan’s recent tweet. Ellie didn’t follow him on Twitter or Facebook. She looked every now and then, but for the most part, it was enough to see him playing his heart out on TV without being privy to his thoughts and updates.

Nolan’s tweet flashed on the screen.

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength! Phil 4:13—Go Hawks!

One of the announcers shook his head, clearly frustrated. “The thing is, Cook is a public figure. He has more support than any president in twenty years.”

“He has haters, don’t forget that.” The reminder came from the older announcer.

“Haters aside, he has a great deal of support. I just think the
sports field is no place for religion. Okay, sure, it’s his private Twitter account, but he’s got nearly five million followers. At that level, I think he should keep his faith to himself.”

No one could doubt God more than Ellie, but even she felt angry at the comment. Nolan could say what he wanted on his own Twitter account. The other two announcers agreed with her. If the tweet had come from the Hawks’ official account, that would be a problem. But not coming from his own.

“People don’t have to follow Nolan Cook. That’s their choice. You follow a celebrity in today’s world because you want an inside look at his life, his feelings. A deeper look at what drives him and motivates him.” The older announcer sat back firmly in his seat. He looked straight at the camera. “Nolan, you go right ahead and tweet about God. This is America.” He chuckled and looked at his cohorts. “Last I checked, freedom of speech was still our right. If it’s our right, then it’s Nolan Cook’s right, too.”

The others laughed, too. None of them wanted to go too deep for too long on ESPN. Their job was to entertain viewers with details and stats about players and teams. Not veer into moral, ethical, or legal aspects of the athletes they covered. No matter how often those details became noteworthy.

“Got an inside tip that Nolan’s bringing his new girl to the game tonight. Home contest against the Celtics in a crucial Game Three situation for Atlanta.” The veteran tapped his pencil on the desk a few times and raised his eyebrows. “Hearts breaking wide open across America tonight. That’s my guess.”

Ellie felt her stomach drop and slide slowly to her feet. What was this? Nolan had a girlfriend? She moved to the edge of the chair, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Her name’s Kari Garrett, daughter of award-winning Christian singer Kathy Garrett.” The man pointed to the monitor,
where a photo of Nolan and Kari flashed on the screen. The two were walking together on a city street at night. He had his arm around her.

They definitely looked like a couple.

Ellie listened for a few more minutes, long enough to hear how Nolan’s manager had worked with Kathy’s agent to set the two up.

“They seem like a perfect match, if you ask me.” The youngest of the three sportscasters laughed. “With Nolan Cook off the market, the rest of us might have a chance.”

The guys chuckled, nodding in agreement.

Ellie didn’t move, didn’t blink. Her eyes were dry, because the news was exploding like a hollow bullet through her chest. Nolan Cook had a girlfriend. She turned the channel to something else, anything else. The Food Network. Yes, that would work. She walked to the back room, her feet heavy. Her next client wasn’t due for half an hour—good thing. Ellie couldn’t face anyone right now, not until she had a few minutes alone.

She walked through the back door, across the parking lot, and found a spot on the curb. She planted her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. He had a girlfriend? Okay, so that shouldn’t surprise her. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the country.

They’d lost touch eleven years ago. Of course he’d moved on. He must’ve had girlfriends in high school and in college. Not until recently had his every move been chronicled by the press. This girl might just be another in a string of girls. She let that sit in her soul for a long moment. No, that wasn’t it. Nolan wasn’t that kind of guy—dating one girl after another.

If he’d found a girl, if he were hanging out with Kari Garrett, then it wasn’t a passing thing. It was serious. With Kari on
his arm, there was no way Nolan was thinking of Ellie or wondering about their eleven-year mark. The news confirmed Ellie’s greatest fears. For Nolan, she was nothing more than an old childhood friend. If he had ever tried to find her, she had made sure she wasn’t available. Ellie Anne. The girl disconnected from her mother and father. The single mom.

What am I supposed to do now?
She let the question blow in the drafty places of her heart. She’d been looking forward to June first, even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself. It was the reason she’d been thinking about a road trip. Like maybe she and Kinzie would pile in her beat-up Chevy and head for Georgia and the tackle box buried beneath the oak tree.

No wonder she couldn’t catch her breath or think straight or bear going back into the salon. She wouldn’t watch another Atlanta game as long as she lived.

Somehow, against all logic or odds, she had come to believe that she wasn’t the only one looking forward to the meeting. That if on the first of June she went to their old oak tree across the street from the house where he grew up, he’d be waiting. They’d dig up the box and share their letters and find out they weren’t so different after all. And God Himself would smile down on the moment, and there would never again be a time when she and Nolan Cook lost touch.

Maybe the reunion between them would stop time, and all the questions Nolan had talked about that long-ago summer night really would be answered.