Tracie Peterson (6 page)

“So you plan to just keep going full-speed ahead?” Melissa felt her reporter’s aggressive nature return. “What happens if the medication you’re using causes your judgment to be less than sound? What if you endanger yourself or someone else, all because you didn’t want to lose the election?”

Glencoe crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. “I’ve considered all those possibilities.”

“And?”

“And I’m training the lieutenant governor to do more than sit and look pretty.”

Melissa smiled at the thought of the young man who held the second-in-command job for the state of Kansas. More than once she’d criticized him in the newspaper for doing little or nothing to aid the state. She had even suggested the position be audited and reevaluated to include additional responsibilities and accountability.

“I see you approve of that idea,” Glencoe said, as though reading her mind. “But he’s far from ready for the position of governor. He could never win an election on his own. I can. With reelection, I can give over more responsibility to him, and if the worst happens, he’ll be set to fill my shoes.”

“I see,” Melissa responded, feeling that the governor had a good point. She liked Ed Glencoe, and it was her personal desire that he win reelection. But she was a news reporter and she was supposed to be objective.

“All I’m asking,” Glencoe said with a look of pleading that instantly made Melissa feel guilty, “is that you say nothing until after the election. I, in turn, promise to keep you fully apprised of my condition, and I’ll give you some important exclusives to make up for the one you aren’t getting to share with the world.”

Melissa’s mind struggled with the fact that this story was big news. She held the power to possibly change the November election.

“I’ll think it over and let you know,” she said, getting to her feet. She picked up her purse and walked to the door. “Thank you for your honesty. I won’t say anything until I discuss it again with you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jordon.”

“Melissa. Call me Melissa.”

Eight

Monday mornings were always hectic at HEARTBEAT. The weekend seemed to breed new problems and complications in a way that always promised excitement. Today looked to be no different. Cara had just settled down to a steaming cup of coffee and a large stack of letters when a knock sounded on her office door. Assuming it to be Joe, she pushed back the letters.

“Come in.”

A man entered the office in a determined businesslike manner. He extended his arm to shake hands with Cara as he introduced himself.

“Russell Owens. I’m managing the Robert Kerns gubernatorial campaign.”

The man wore an expensive gray suit and wire-rimmed glasses that gave him a studious look. Cara immediately pegged him as a little boy trying hard to appear grown-up.

“I’m Cara Kessler,” she finally replied. “Won’t you have a seat?”

Mr. Owens gave her a closed-mouth smile and a once-over with his eyes that made her feel as though she’d just been undressed.
Never mind with the little-boy appearance,
she thought. She began to feel increasingly nervous when the silence stretched to a full minute.

“What is it . . . what can I do . . . for you?” she asked hesitantly.

He appeared to be nearly leering as he replied, “Perhaps it’s what I can do for you.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Cara decided to ignore the expression on his face.

“Are you familiar with Robert Kerns?”

“No, not really,” she answered. “I heard the announcement
a while back that he intended to run for governor, but otherwise I don’t know the man.”

“Let me enlighten you then,” Owens began. “Bob is a tremendous man of talent with a background in law and a reputation for aiding the little man. He’s a family man with a wife and two college-aged kids. He believes, as do I, that he would make a great governor for our fair state.”

Russell drew a breath, and Cara utilized the moment to break in on his speech. “That sounds all very well and good, Mr. Owens, but I don’t see what it has to do with me, or with HEARTBEAT.”

Russell nodded. “I’m sure you don’t, but that’s why I’m here. We’d like to solicit your support for our campaign.”

“I see,” Cara said, getting to her feet. “I can assure you I have no interest in such a cooperation. My ministry is a nonprofit organization and we don’t allow ourselves to become politically involved. I’m sure you can appreciate the implications and problems that can be created. . . .”

“And you can surely appreciate the possibility of support from the governor’s office once Kerns is elected. If you are one of the avid supporters who help to see him elected, it could mean a great deal to your business.”

“My business, as you put it, is just that—my business.” Cara smoothed down her floral print skirt in a nervous gesture. “I have no desire to drag this ministry into an association that could suggest a political endorsement of any one person.”

“Mrs. Kessler . . . Cara,” Russell said without asking permission, “it is very important you hear me out.” His voice seemed to drop an octave. “You’re just the kind of person we’re looking for, especially since you have political experience in your background.”

Cara couldn’t keep the surprise from registering on her face. “How would you know what is or isn’t in my background?”

Owens got to his feet. “I’ve taken the time to study your profile. Your father was a district representative for over eight years.”

“So?” She was growing more agitated by the minute. How dare this man research her background!

“You know what’s involved in running for political office. You know the schedules and the demands.”

“Yes, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested in becoming involved in another campaign. Your Mr. Kerns may well be the very best candidate that this state has seen in years, and I still wouldn’t want to play that game again. My father endured a great deal of suffering at the hands of the state political machine. It nearly cost him his health, and I have no desire to see it cost mine.” She could feel her cheeks grow flushed.

Russell leaned across the desk. “You’re very beautiful, even when you’re uptight.”

Cara hadn’t believed Owens possible of more surprises, yet here he was stooping to flattery. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“I was hoping maybe if I couldn’t interest you just yet in Kerns’ campaign, I might get you to have dinner with me.”

Cara gave him a hard look. “I’m sorry, no.”

Russell shrugged. “Well, that’s two strikes. I wonder if I dare brave a third time at bat.”

“Mr. Owens, I’m very busy,” Cara stated, crossing the room to the door and opening it wide. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”

Russell came to her and stood so close that Cara backed up a step. “Would you at least agree to meet my boss? He’s very impressed with the work you do here.”

Cara felt her resolve crumble. It wasn’t wise to make enemies out of powerful people—her father had taught her that much from his days as a representative. Perhaps if she met this man face-to-face, she could explain why she had no interest in politics.

“I suppose I could meet with Mr. Kerns for a short while.”

“You won’t be sorry,” Russell replied. “I’ll arrange the meeting and get back with you.”

“Very well.”

Cara watched him leave. She had a strange sense of foreboding, but knew it was probably just the way he’d started to come on to her. She wasn’t used to men paying her such open attention.

Going back to her desk, Cara couldn’t help but think of her chance encounter with Harry Oberlin.

“What a contrast,” she murmured, thinking of the two men. Then her thoughts drifted to Jack.

Cara had often thought the pain of his death would never go away, but she had to admit she’d not really thought about Jack as often as before. It was just those early morning hours, when she had time to linger in bed, that the loneliness seemed to grip her afresh.

She picked up one of the framed photos on her desk. It was a family picture taken only weeks before Jack had died. Brianna shared so many of her father’s features. She had his mouth and nose, and where Cara’s features were more delicate and elfish, Brianna’s and Jack’s were rugged and boldly pronounced.

“I’m not doing you any favors, Bri,” she said to her daughter’s five-year-old image. “I’ve immersed myself too long in Jack and the memories we shared.”

They had barely lived in Topeka for two months before the accident, and since that tragic day, Cara had changed relatively little in their lives. They lived in the same apartment Jack had chosen for them, and even the furniture was positioned just as he’d arranged it. She remembered with regret her reaction when Brianna had suggested they move to an apartment complex with a swimming pool. Bri couldn’t understand her mother’s reluctance to give up the last place she’d shared with Jack.

I’ve been stuck in the past,
Cara admitted to herself. Somehow, meeting up with Melissa had allowed these thoughts
to surface. Perhaps they were helped along by finding herself the focus of attraction by two very different men.

“Maybe it is time for a change.” She traced Jack’s outline with her finger. “I will always love you, and there will always be a part of me that belongs only to you. But I know it’s wrong to live in the past.” Tears came to her eyes and blurred the photo. Letting go was so much more than words and symbolic gestures.

Putting the picture in her drawer, Cara grabbed a tissue and wiped her face.
So much wasted time,
she thought.
Time I could have given Brianna. Time I could have spent among the living instead of the dead.
With new resolve, she picked up her Bible and found confirmation of her decision in the words of Philippians.
“But one thing I do. Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

“God, give me strength,” she whispered. “Give me the ability to put aside the past and reach forward. Let me make a new start with my life, with Brianna—even with my work for You.”

“Hey, Cara, you okay?”

She looked up to find Joe Milken peering into her office. She hadn’t even heard him open the door. The sandy-haired youth pastor had an infectious smile and a perpetual tan that gave him the appearance of living outdoors year-round. Today he looked like a lumberjack in his red-and-black flannel shirt and blue jeans. Stepping into her office, Joe’s rugged face held nothing but concern for her.

“Is something wrong?” he questioned. “You’re crying.”

“I’m just saying good-bye,” she replied, trying hard to smile.

“Good-bye?” His voice held a note of concern. “To HEARTBEAT?”

“No, of course not. I’ve just been dealing with my fixation on the past. I know you understand, because you’ve been after me for a long time to make certain changes and do things differently. I’ve always held you up to Jack’s standards, just as I’ve always held myself up to them. But . . .” She fell silent for a moment and gathered her strength. “Jack is gone and time marches forward instead of marching in place. I want you to put those ideas of yours on paper. We’ll go over them together and see where they lead us. Are you game?”

Joe’s expression was one of relief and satisfaction. “What in the world brought about this change?”

Cara grew thoughtful. “Little things. Brianna would mention doing something or buying something, and I’d find myself wondering what Jack would want. She also says things about wishing she had a daddy,” Cara remembered in a wave of guilt. “Then there’s my childhood friend from Hays, Melissa Jordon.”

“Is she the one who wanted to write about HEARTBEAT?”

“Yes. Well, she got me to thinking. I mean, I listened to her talk about her life and where she’d gone with it in the last ten years. The last time we’d seen each other was at Jack’s funeral, and I realized how much I’d closed myself away from the rest of the world. So little has changed for me since his death. HEARTBEAT and Brianna have been my entire domain and nothing else has existed.”

Joe nodded. “And what about now?”

“Now we start fresh and new. I leave Jack with God and delegate my mourning period to the past.”

Joe crossed the room. “May I be the first to welcome you back.” He extended his arm and Cara surprised herself by getting up and hugging him.

“You’ve been a dear friend, Joe. You and Suzanne both have been so patient with me,” Cara said, mentioning Joe’s wife. “This ministry would have folded if I’d been left to my own devices. I’m glad God gave me the sense to bring you on board.”

Joe gave her a brotherly pat on the back. “I’m just glad you are ready to take a fresh look at your life.”

Cara’s gaze drifted down to the drawer where Jack’s image now resided. “I wonder why now, Joe? Why all of the sudden, after all this time?”

Joe held her at arm’s length. “Because now is the right time. My guess is there’s something important coming your way, and God is preparing you by taking care of old business first.”

“I suppose I can see the logic in that,” Cara admitted.

“Just don’t be surprised when things start to happen.”

For reasons beyond her understanding, Cara remembered the sense of foreboding she’d felt earlier. Maybe things were already starting to happen.

Nine

By Friday, Cara and Brianna had both exhausted themselves making new plans for their lives. With Brianna’s desire to move to an apartment with a pool, Cara had made some calls and had managed to secure a three-bedroom townhouse in a complex called Misty Glen.

She and Brianna had immediately set out arranging each of the townhouse rooms on graph paper. Cara had never seen Brianna happier, and it gave her cause to pay closer attention to the child’s emotional well-being. Cara could tell her daughter was thrilled at the new sense of purpose and direction in their lives. Years of mausoleum-like living had stifled her daughter’s imagination and free spirit, but planning for their new home seemed to open them both up to life again.

Checking on the sleeping child, Cara stood for several minutes and watched Brianna’s even breathing. Long hair wound its way around her angelic face and Cara reached out to smooth it back with a smile. Silently, she thanked God for giving her Brianna and for helping her to recognize her child’s needs before it was too late.