The Chance: A Novel (49 page)

October 17, 2006.

The date jumped out at Ellie and took her breath. The day before Kinzie was born. Ellie had been alone and in labor until Tina rushed home from beauty school to be with her. At the
same time—the exact same time—somewhere in Savannah, her mother had been writing her a letter. Fresh tears flooded Ellie’s heart and spilled into her eyes. She blinked a few times so she could see the words.

Dear Ellie,

You’re on my heart so much today. I could barely concentrate at work, hardly focus when I was reading John his bedtime story. I have to think that wherever you are, something is wrong. You’re hurting or lonely . . . like it’s a very difficult day for you. I don’t usually feel this way. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I’d give anything to know what’s happening in your life right now. To hear your voice.

Ellie brought the paper to her face and let the tears come, let the sobs shake her body and take the air from her lungs.
Mom . . . I wanted you to be there. You should’ve been there.
She closed her eyes, and she was in the hospital bed again, in the throes of labor. Her body racked with pain and Tina holding her hand. And all Ellie could think, all she could do as Kinzie came into the world, was pretend that the hand she was holding wasn’t Tina’s at all.

But her mother’s.

If you only knew how much I wanted you there . . .

The paper was wet with Ellie’s tears. She set it on the floor. Someday she would show the letters to Kinzie. They were all she had of her mom and the years they’d missed. She couldn’t afford to lose them. Not one of them. Especially not this one.

Her body needed air. She breathed in and fought for clarity, for focus so she could know what to do next. How could her
father have hidden them from her? Letter after letter after letter. More words of love and encouragement and desperation than any mother would usually speak to a daughter in a lifetime.

And not one word, not one page had ever reached her.

It was the most horrific thing her father could have done. He must have hated both of them to keep her mother’s words from her. To deny her the right to know how much her mom loved her. How much she had always loved her. Ellie held her breath, grasping for any sense of normal.

Ellie felt sick. Sicker than she had all day. She stood, and a wave of dizziness slammed against her. She ran to the bathroom and barely made it before losing her breakfast. When her body stopped convulsing she stayed on her knees, her head in her hands. Her mother’s aching tone in the letters and her consistent declarations of love, her undying determination on every page that they would be together again. No wonder she was sick. The truth was that hard to take.

When she was finished, when her stomach ached from the heartbreak and her mouth was sour from the awful reality, she went to the computer and Googled her mother’s name. Caroline Tucker, Savannah, Georgia. No contact information came up. Her mother probably didn’t have means for more than a cell phone.

The letters in the other room called to her again. Never mind how sick she felt, she had to get back to them. She read another one and another one and another one after that. Gradually, the pieces of her mother’s lonely life began to come together. The letters were full of details and apologies and mentions of God and prayer. Never mind that Ellie never wrote back. Not once in any of the letters had she even hinted
at feeling angry with Ellie or bitter or forgotten. She would simply wait a week, take out another piece of paper, another envelope, and try again.

Every week . . . every month . . . for eleven years.

In one of the letters her mom mentioned that she had celebrated her ten-year anniversary working at the new doctor’s office. Which meant that even with the time difference Ellie could make a few phone calls and probably reach her mother today. She worked at a doctor’s office in Savannah. That was the only information she needed.

Something sad occurred to her. She could’ve called doctor’s offices in Savannah their first year in San Diego. Only she’d been fifteen back then. And until this morning, she’d believed that her mother didn’t care about her at all. Why go search for someone who didn’t want her? Until a few hours ago, Ellie’s mom had been dead to her.

Tina came home for lunch, and Ellie brought the box to the kitchen. “Look at this.” She opened the box, and the story poured out. “She wrote all of these.”

“Every week? He hid your mother’s letters to you all those years?” Tina quickly grew angry. She didn’t have a relationship with her own dad, a guy who hadn’t been in her life since she was a baby. “That’s against the law, I’m sure it is. Hiding mail? Seems like he could be arrested.”

Ellie hadn’t considered that. For the most part, she hadn’t thought about him at all. She was better off not to. The image of him weeping as he stood against the brick wall outside Merrilou’s left her torn between hating him and pitying him. What could have possessed her father to hide these letters from her all this time? And what had changed that he would bring the box to her work yesterday?

She pushed the thought from her mind.

Action. That’s what she needed. A plan. Tina had to get back to work. When she was gone, Ellie took the box back to the living room. The letter on the floor called to her, the one damp with her tears. The one her mother had written the day before Kinzie was born. She read it once more and then tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. With all the pain of missing her mom, with all she’d lost over the years, Ellie couldn’t help but feel a little better. Her mother had been praying for her the day she went into labor.

No time or distance could change the bond between them.

She bundled the other letters she’d read and set them on top of the mass of envelopes in the box. It would go in the hall closet for now. Kinzie was very perceptive and if she saw a collection of hundreds of letters, she would have another full day of questions.

Questions Ellie wasn’t ready to answer.

The box fit on the floor at the back of the closet, where it couldn’t be seen.

That much was done, so what next? She could call around and find the doctor’s office where her mother worked. But the idea felt wrong. Anticlimactic. Her mother had loved her so well for so long, she deserved to hear from Ellie in person. Yes, that was it. She would go to Savannah. A plan took shape quickly and gave her a break from the tears. She hurried to the computer. Her eyes stung, and her head pounded, but she didn’t care.

She would call Merrilou’s tomorrow and tell the owner she needed two weeks. She hadn’t taken more than a couple of days’ vacation since she was hired. Whether they paid her or not, she needed the time. This was a family emergency. She
searched the map once more, planning how far she would get the first day.

She would take the I-8 east to Arizona, and connect with Interstate 10 all the way to Las Cruces, New Mexico, before getting a hotel. A ten-hour drive. That would be easy, knowing what she knew now. The day after she would reach the I-20 and take it to Dallas, and on the third day, she would stop in Birmingham. That would leave seven hours before she reached Savannah.

Before she was home.

She would find her mom easily, because she had her address. None of this stalking her just outside work, the way her father had done. Ellie printed out the directions and closed Google. Her mind was made up.

She would talk to Kinzie tonight while the two of them packed. Very early tomorrow morning they would set out and be halfway to Phoenix before she called to say she wasn’t coming in to work. It would be an adventure. Kinzie would think a road trip was the best thing since going to church. They would pack light—a couple of duffel bags full of clothes, some basic toiletries, and the letter.

The one her mom had written to Ellie the day before Kinzie’s birth.

An hour later, as Tina got off work and picked up the girls, Ellie put together carrot sticks and graham crackers for Kinzie’s afternoon snack and thought about the incredible timing. Her father knew nothing about June first and her promise with Nolan, nothing about the tackle box buried beneath the old oak tree. Yet after all these years, he had given her more than a box of letters. He had given her a reason to go back to Savannah.

Days before her long-ago promise to meet up with Nolan.

He was dating Kari Garrett now, but that didn’t change the facts. If everything went the way she planned it, she would pull in to Savannah on the last day of May.

Twenty-four hours before the time they had promised to meet.

She dismissed the thought. Crazy timing. A coincidence.

How could it be anything more than that?

Chapter
Twenty

N
olan was the last one to leave Philips Arena. He found the spot—left side, three-point line—and sank the shot on the first try.
For you, Dad. Make sure he knows, okay, God?
He grabbed his bag and headed for his car. The day had been emotional enough, with Gunner’s visit and the Hawks’ comeback win. The way the team rallied around the sick little boy.

But the rest of the night was nothing short of a miracle. What if Molly hadn’t come along for the visit? What if her husband had been on the road tonight? How was it possible the man had been chatting with Caroline Tucker just days ago?

Nolan drove slowly, barely aware of streets and stoplights. When he got home, he went to the hutch in his bedroom again and stared at the photograph. Nolan and Ellie, frozen in time. Her mom had written her a letter every week and never heard a single thing back. Fear sliced through him and filled his blood with adrenaline. Didn’t that terrify her? Didn’t she wonder if Ellie was even alive? He opened the cabinet and took the photo from its place on the shelf. He ran his thumb
lightly over the frame, over the place where she looked back at him. “You would’ve found me, Ellie . . . I know you.”

His heart flip-flopped inside him. It was like Ellie had disappeared completely. What if she was no longer alive? Dead from a car crash or sickness?
Please, God . . . not Ellie. Please let her be alive somewhere. Help me find her.
Nolan took the picture to the edge of his bed and sat down. What hadn’t he tried? He had called the base years ago, trying to find Alan Tucker. But maybe . . . maybe Ellie’s father had a new position or a new job. Maybe if Nolan made a few phone calls tomorrow, he could figure out where the man worked and call him. If anyone knew whether Ellie was alive, it would be her father.

The man who had taken her away.

Calling her dad was something he could do, something other than thinking about her and missing her and counting down the days until June first. Only five days remained now. Five days until the date that, eleven years ago, had seemed a lifetime away. Molly’s words came back to him. If there was a reason to be in the same place at the same time . . . don’t miss the chance. It was as if she could read Nolan’s deepest thoughts. He breathed in slowly, his eyes on Ellie’s.
What happened to you, Ellie. . . . Why don’t you want to be found?

He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but something deep within his being told him she was alive. Alive and hurting. A spark of concern became a sense of real and pressing alarm. He thought about Ellie often and prayed for her always. But now the urgency was different.
God? Is Ellie in trouble?

Pray, my son . . . pray without ceasing.

The message seemed to come from a voice deep within his soul. It was too real, too profound, to ignore. Wherever she was, whatever was happening in her life, Ellie needed prayer.
Nolan couldn’t wait another minute. Holding her photograph to his heart, he slid down onto his knees and bowed his head.

For half an hour—as if his next heartbeat depended on it—Nolan did the only thing he could do.

He prayed for Ellie Tucker.

T
wenty-nine letters into the box, Ellie wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to open the box last night, but she hadn’t slept either. This morning she had called in sick, and after taking the girls to school, she came home and started reading. Now her eyes were red and swollen, and her heart would never be the same again. On top of that, the sky had been overcast all day—the June gloom typical for the West Coast had come earlier than usual. She was home alone, Tina at work, and the girls at school. A cool breeze sifted through the open living room window.