The Chance: A Novel (47 page)

Suddenly Ryan remembered the basketball detail. “She told me her daughter had to leave with almost no notice . . . and that she left behind her friend, a high school basketball player.”

“She didn’t mention my name?”

“No.” Ryan pictured Caroline sitting across from him at the coffee shop, the way she had hesitated at that part of the story. “The girl you were going to marry . . . is her name Ellie?”

Slowly, gradually, tears appeared in Nolan’s eyes. He massaged his temples with his forefinger and thumb. Then he sat straighter, his determination evident in every movement. He dropped his hands to the table and nodded. “Yes. Ellie Tucker.”

Ryan felt for the guy. Nolan hadn’t moved on. He might’ve been only fifteen back then, but Nolan obviously cared for her still. “I’m sorry. I had to say something.”

“Thank you.” Nolan glanced toward the restroom. Gunner and his parents were still nowhere in sight. “Has her mother heard from her?”

“No. She’s sent letters—one a week, I guess. But she hasn’t heard anything.”

Nolan absorbed the blow. “She doesn’t want to be found. I’ve tried everything.” He closed his eyes briefly. “So what’s it mean?” He looked at Ryan. “You talked to her mom last week? Why would God put us together?”

“From the minute I went on tour, I felt the Lord was up to something.” Ryan looked at Molly. She knew better than anyone how strong the feeling had been. He turned to Nolan again. “Maybe this is it.”

“I have to think it through.” Nolan tapped his fingers on the table, his eyes narrowed, moving from one spot to another, as if trying to see through the thickest fog. “Caroline wants to see her, right?’

“Desperately. We prayed about it, that they would find each other . . . that God would bring healing.”

The news sparked something in Nolan. “She talked about her faith?”

Ryan felt tenderness in his smile. “Very much. She’s raising her son by herself and praying for her daughter. She hasn’t heard from Ellie or her husband since they moved.”

“So Caroline’s not married.”

Again Ryan was careful. Nolan was close to figuring out information that Ryan wasn’t privy to share. “She’s a single mom.”

“Hmm.” Nolan looked off, lost in thought again. “I have to find her. For me and for her mom.”

Ryan didn’t say anything. Molly reached for his fingers, and the two of them were quiet. Gunner and his parents were taking a long time. The boy mustn’t feel well. “Well . . . let’s pray. For Caroline and Ellie.” He looked toward the restroom. “And Gunner.”

“Yes.” Nolan Cook raked his fingers through his hair. He looked like nothing more than a college kid trying to figure out life. He bowed his head. “Ryan . . . please.”

Ryan breathed deep and held tighter to Molly’s hand. Then for the second time that week, he prayed for a young woman he’d never met, and that the two people who missed her so much would find her soon. And he prayed for Gunner, that memories of this day would get him through whatever was ahead. “We pray believing . . . we pray trusting. Thank you, God. In the powerful name of Jesus, amen.”

When he opened his eyes, Gunner and his family stood close by. Gunner’s dad had his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “We need to go.”

“Guess what?” Gunner looked pale, his cheeks sunken even as his eyes sparkled. “That’s exactly what happened. What you prayed about. I was sick in the bathroom, and all of a sudden I remembered playing that game with Nolan.” He stopped and grinned at his basketball hero. “And I didn’t feel sick!”

Ryan smiled. “Prayer is powerful.” He looked at Nolan. “Maybe that’s what God wants us to remember after today.”

“Definitely.” Nolan held his gaze for a few seconds. He stood and went to Gunner and hugged him one last time. While the boy was in his arms, Nolan peered at him and then
Ryan. “Our mighty God still hears us . . . and He still answers prayers.”

Ryan and Molly waited until after Gunner was gone before turning to Nolan. “We should probably go, too.”

“Wait.” Nolan looked from Ryan to Molly and back. “You didn’t tell me your story.”

“Oh, that . . .” Ryan laughed lightly and looked at Molly. “Molly and I were very close when we were younger. We hung out at a bookstore called The Bridge, but then Molly moved away and we lost touch. It wasn’t until something crazy and nearly tragic happened to the old bookstore owner that we wound up in the same place again.”

“I knew the minute I saw him. Like no time had passed.” Molly tilted her head, her voice pensive. “If there’s ever a reason you and Ellie might wind up in the same place at the same time . . . be there. Don’t miss it.” She slipped her arm around Ryan’s waist and kissed his cheek. “That’s my advice.”

“Yes.” Ryan turned to Nolan. “Don’t miss the chance.”

Long after they said their good-byes and reached the car, Ryan still thought about it, replaying the impossibility of the connection. “God’s doing something big. I’m absolutely sure.”

“Mmm.” Molly watched him from the passenger seat. “Wouldn’t it be something? Healing and restoration, brought about by God because you took this tour? Because you talked to Peyton?” She smiled. “I’m proud of you for contacting Caroline Tucker, for putting it together tonight. You’re showing everyone what Romans 8:28 looks like.”

Ryan smiled. “ ‘All things work to the good for those who love God.’ ”

“Exactly.”

A reverent quiet fell over them the rest of the short ride
back to the hotel. Were they front row to what could be a miracle? Healing from brokenness? Whatever God was up to, Ryan had the feeling as they drove down Jefferson Street that they were no longer in their old SUV, no longer participants in any ordinary moment.

They were on holy ground.

Chapter
Nineteen

T
he question of Kari Garrett came up at halftime.

With the Hawks trailing by four points, three reporters asked him about her. Three sportscasters. As if they couldn’t find some aspect of his game to talk about. Nolan didn’t let his frustration show. Yes, she had planned to attend the game . . . no, they weren’t officially dating . . . and no, she wasn’t here. Something had come up.

His answers were kind but short. As he jogged to the locker room to join his team, one of his father’s favorite lessons from Luke, chapter twelve, whispered through his soul.
To whom much is given, much will be expected.
A reminder his father referred to often. There was no room for grumbling or complaining. God had given him a dream job, a public place to shine for Him. He could be kind to reporters.

Inside the locker room, Nolan found his teammates looking exhausted, gathered around their coach. The man looked frustrated as he pointed at Nolan. “Maybe you have something, Cook. Something to make these guys play like they care.” He
looked at the sweaty faces around the room. “You have to want this with your whole heart, men. Your whole heart.”

Dexter turned to Nolan. “Tell them about the kid.”

Nolan grabbed a towel from a stack on the closest bench and rubbed his neck. “The boy’s name is Gunner. He’s got terminal leukemia, a few months to live, maybe less.” He moved to the front of the group, next to Coach. “The kid’s lifelong dream is to play ball for his high school. His second is to be here tonight.”

The sobering reaction in the eyes of his teammates was undeniable. No one had to point out the fact that the boy’s first dream wasn’t going to happen. “I told Gunner we would win this game.” Nolan paused. “For him.” The Scripture came to him again, screaming through his mind. “My dad died when I was a kid. Most of you know that.” He looked at the faces of his teammates, and the intensity in his voice grew, his tone more passionate. “But when I started playing ball, he would tell me this: ‘To whom much is given, much will be expected.’ ” He stared at them. “That’s in the Bible.” He waited again. “Look around this locker room. No matter what you believe, the truth is this, guys: We have been given so much.” He didn’t move, didn’t blink. “I think of Gunner, believing that we’re playing this game for him.” His voice rose once more. “So let’s give something back! Let’s win tonight. Let’s do this!”

The fire was back in his teammates’ eyes. A chorus of shouts rose from the group, and the team came together in a huddle. The coach stepped back and watched, nodding, satisfied. Nolan put his hand in the middle, and the others did the same. The energy had completely changed, the electricity ten times what it had been coming into the locker room. “Beat Boston!”

A chorus of voices echoed the shout.

Nolan felt more on fire than at any time all season. “Gunner, on three. One . . . two . . . three.”

“Gunner!”

And with that, they took the floor a different team.

In the third quarter, the Hawks forced four turnovers in the opening couple of minutes, and Atlanta took a two-point lead. They played defense with a frenzied aggression, stunning Boston. A few minutes more, and the Celtics began to unravel. Even Boston’s leading scorer fell apart. The guy couldn’t hit a shot the rest of the quarter. At one point, he drove in for a dunk and missed it. The arena flew to its feet, celebrating the moment. Later, the announcers would peg it as the turning point. The contest was over after that. Long before the Hawks notched an eighteen-point win and a place in the NBA finals.

As the buzzer sounded at the end of the game, Nolan jogged with the game ball over to Gunner, sitting courtside with his parents and Molly and Ryan. Nolan was sweaty and out of breath, but he handed the ball to Gunner and leaned close so the boy could hear. “We won it for you, Gunner!”

The crowd missed the exchange. The fans were on their feet, shouting for the Hawks. A horde of media filed onto the court, surrounding the players, while police officers kept fans back. Little Gunner didn’t notice any of it. He took the ball and hugged Nolan’s neck, not minding the sweat or the circus atmosphere.

Nolan nodded to Ryan. “Meet you here in half an hour.”

He joined his teammates, chest-thumping and high-fiving and hugging. Dexter came up and slapped his arm. “We did it, man! It was that halftime speech.”

“You know what it was, Dex?” Nolan looped his arm around his friend’s sweaty neck. Then he pointed up, and for a
full couple of seconds, he stared toward the rafters. “It was God Almighty . . . meeting us here. Because maybe we finally got it.” He winked at Dexter. “You know, as a team.”

“He was definitely with us!” Dexter laughed and raised both fists in the air. “I didn’t think I’d ever know this feeling. It’s amazing!”

“Nolan . . . over here, Nolan!” A group of sportscasters approached them. Dexter was a phenomenal swing man, but they didn’t want him. Nolan’s friend patted his shoulder. “Go get ’em.”

They shared a quick smile, and Nolan turned his attention to the reporters. Ten minutes later, as he headed for the shower, he looked back one more time to the place where Gunner sat with his family. The craziness around them was finally lessening a little.

Gunner sat between his parents while the adults talked around him. Even from across the court Nolan could see that the boy was in his own world. He had the game ball on his lap, staring at it, running his hand over it. Nolan knew what the boy was thinking, what he was feeling. Despite his losing battle with cancer, in this moment—even for a fraction of time—the boy had won. He was a Hawk and he was a champion.

Nolan blinked back his tears and joined his teammates.

Gunner’s dream came true: And that made tonight’s victory the greatest of all.

T
he dots needed connecting.

That was all Ryan Kelly could think as they sat down with their ice cream on the suite level of the Philips Arena that
night. Even with courtside seats, he couldn’t stop thinking about the last things Nolan had said before the game, how he’d grown up in Savannah, same as Caroline Tucker. And how the girl he was going to marry had moved away to San Diego when she was fifteen. A girl who would be about the same age as Nolan. Caroline’s daughter—Ellie, if he remembered right—had moved with her dad to San Diego when she was fifteen, too. He could picture the sad blond woman, wringing her hands, trembling, her only prayer that she might reconnect with her daughter.