A Time to Surrender (32 page)

“‘Your Royal Highness, you are the fairest in the land and always right and deserving of the best’?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Something like that. She encouraged me to record a new message in my heart and tell myself that being a princess means I am in a unique position to help others.”

“And not just by cleaning ashes from their fireplaces.”

“Yeah. Beth said . . .” Jenna bit her lip. “She said helping others is how I would make it through this season of Kevin’s absence.”

“There you go. That’s what you are doing.”

“Sort of.” She wondered how that night with Cade fit into anything other than selfish indulgence.

“Jenna, God sees you as that good-hearted princess, not the snooty one. That’s His message written on your heart.”

“It’s in invisible ink. There’s a prayer for you: I need that special light that makes the ink show.”

“You can pray that.”

“Your prayers always work better.”

“It just seems like they do.” His voice rose a notch. “The only difference is I’ve practiced more than you have. I don’t know what it is you’re waiting for.”

Taken aback at his agitated tone, she felt a stab of fear. In all her avoidance of God, Danny hung in there, always eager to pray for her. What was wrong?

“Jenna, what are you waiting for? There’s no right or wrong way to pray. You’ve heard Nana say that enough. For crying out loud, just talk to Him.”

“I don’t know where He is.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. They stared at each other in silence.

At last Danny spoke. “Turnabout is fair play. You’re in love with a Marine overseas. I’m in love with a felon. Go ahead and say it: tell me to give it up.”

“Give it up,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Two plus two doesn’t equal four anymore. Black is white, and white is black. I don’t know where God is either.”

Hearing Danny question his faith sounded like a death knell to Jenna. When all was said and done, his prayers had always been the most real to her. Nana’s scared her in how they transcended known entities. Amber and even her mother were too new to Jenna as prayer warriors to make an impact on her.

And her prayers? They were like quicksilver, flowing in unpredictable ways, incapable of reaching the target.

Fifty-nine

I
n the thirty-some years Claire had known Indio, she had seen her furious on rare occasions. She had never, though, seen her throw something and curse. Until now.

The laundry basket sailed across the kitchen, its contents spilling out onto the floor. The swear word flung behind it sang out loud and clear.

“Indio,” she said with some concern as she scooped dirty towels from the floor into the basket.

“Jabberwocky!” Indio resorted to the less profane. She plopped her hands on her hips. “How on earth can a mother not come see her own daughter? I was by no means a perfect mother, but I swear I never,
never
would have ignored my sons if they asked to see me!”

“Well.” Skylar appeared in the doorway. “That’s Marlie Rockwell for you.”

Indio flung her arms wide. “Oh, child.”

“You can hug me, but you can’t blame my dysfunctional family for my stupid choices.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Indio bundled the young woman to herself.

Claire sighed. She had just informed Indio about the third phone conversation she’d had with David and Marlie Rockwell, Skylar’s parents. They kept changing their flight. Now they’d changed who was even coming to San Diego to see their daughter in her dreadful hour of need.

The saddest part, which she dared not tell Indio, was their flippancy about the whole matter.
“Laurie’s done it again.”
Claire knew Laurie-aka-Skylar had never been arrested, so that could not be the ‘it’ they referred to, but she didn’t ask.
“We always expected she’d crash and burn. She was weird as a two-year old.”

Not one word was said about reimbursing her and Max for the bail money or for hiring a lawyer. It didn’t matter. They loved the girl.

She shuddered at the things they’d had to consider in recent days. Claire now even knew where the nearest FBI office was. Skylar had spent hours inside it being interviewed yet again by agents.

Skylar straightened from Indio’s hug. “We might get lucky and my dad won’t show either. Claire, you told him they’ll send me up north as soon as they figure things out?”

“Things” referred to facts like Skylar’s having nothing to do with the San Diego bombing and that her abandoning Claire’s car was not grand theft. The fact that the event that took place eighteen months ago was in the northern part of the state, in a different judicial district.

Claire bent over to retrieve a dishcloth. “I told him.”

“And?” Skylar prompted.

She set the laundry basket on the bench near the mudroom door. Then she sat down next to it. “And he backpedaled about coming down here since you’ll be up there sooner or later.”

Skylar’s smile was neither happy nor sad. It signaled acceptance of an unfortunate situation.

“Sit down, honey.”

Skylar and Indio sat on stools at the island.

“I realize,” Claire said, “that you don’t want to blame anyone for your actions, that you want to take full responsibility.”

“Yes.” She glanced at Indio. “Confess your sins one to another. James, right?”

“James chapter five, verse sixteen. And pray for one another.”

They exchanged a knowing smile. Indio had been giving Skylar a crash course in Bible study. She said the girl soaked it up like a dried sponge. No doubt Indio had reiterated her promise to pray.

Claire said, “But you need a lawyer just to guide you through the system.”

“Max keeps saying that but all I want to do is go, ‘I’m guilty.’ I don’t want off the hook. I can say that by myself to a judge.” Her zeal was a sight to behold, her eyes bright and clear, no longer hiding anything. “Max even said it was answered prayer and not the court-appointed loser lawyer that got the judge to grant bail.”

“Yes, but things will get more complicated. One consideration is a plea bargain. They may ask for information in exchange for a reduced sentence.”

“I don’t want special treatment—”

“Skylar!” Claire was ready to throw the laundry basket herself in frustration. “It’s not special. It’s part of negotiating and cooperating. The bottom line is you can go to prison all you want, but we prefer it be for less than twenty years!”

“Twenty?” Skylar whispered.

“That’s what this lawyer said today. It’s a possibility.”

Skylar bit her lip.

Against Rosie’s recommendations, Skylar had given Claire and Max some of the details of the event in question. Eighteen months ago, Skylar had driven that Fin character to a lumber company office and waited while he planted pipe bombs. She did not fully realize what she was participating in. He said they were simply going to slow down the logging process. She agreed to help, desperate to save her beloved redwoods. And yes, desperate to be noticed by the likes of an antihero.

It was the only time she’d gone on what he and his group called “missions.” It was to have been her ticket to be his number one, his “moll.”

Until she saw the night lit up with explosives and walls tumble down . . .

Claire said, “Max told this man that you intend to plead guilty. He agreed to take your case.”

“Oh, Claire. Max hired him already?”

“Yes.”

She pressed her palms against her eyes. “You all do too much for me.”

Indio said, “This is what family is supposed to do. Deal with it.”

Skylar moved her hands. “Deal with it?”

“You heard me.” Indio giggled.

It was a catchy sound. Skylar and Claire joined in, releasing tears of silliness.

Claire waited in the parking lot, holding a shawl tightly about herself. The sun had set. It was Thursday evening, the first week in November. With rainy, cooler weather and Thanksgiving on the horizon, guests’ reservations had dwindled to one weekend for the month, a welcome respite considering the present upheaval.

She watched the headlights of Danny’s truck approach and prayed for him and Skylar. He planned to talk with Skylar. Claire wished she could be a mouse beneath a chair as they spoke. She prayed for herself too.

She’d feared Danny’s increasingly black-and-white attitude toward his faith would lead to his undoing. Either he’d turn into a wholehearted legalist or experience a major meltdown. She should be happy for the latter. It held promise of a rebuilding.

Danny parked and climbed out. “Mom. You cutting me off at the pass?”

“If that smart tone of yours continues, you can get right back in—” She closed her mouth. He was doing it, goading her, and she was falling for it. “Let me start over. Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry. I’m on edge.”

“We all are.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk a minute, before you go in to see Skylar.”

“I don’t want to hear excuses for her.”

“Danny, for goodness’ sake! Let me finish one thought, please!”

He folded his arms, leaned back against the truck, and crossed one ankle over the other.

She watched him for a moment to see if he’d stay put. Except for the jiggling of his top foot, he seemed still. “I’m glad you called to say you were coming up. I’m glad you’re going to address things with Skylar.”

He gave a slight nod.

“But it’s none of my business.”

His foot stopped moving.

“When your dad and I moved up here, and then Lexi and Tuyen soon followed, I really hoped that somehow you and Jenna and Erik would fit into life here too. He was in rehab; he needed a safe place to start over. Jenna had been so lonely without Kevin. You could do your work from anywhere. We could all live here. Why not? It’s a huge place, especially with the new bungalow and the mobile unit. We could make it work.”

“The ocean is—”

“Shh.” She scowled briefly. “It was my mama’s heart yearning to be near my babies. It didn’t matter how old you all are or if one of you needs to surf every day. The point is that’s how I felt. Irrational? Totally.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her cardigan and looked around. A few stars twinkled in the darkening sky. The scents of pine and mesquite and cooling earth filled her. Floodlights bathed the sign, Hacienda Hideaway ~ A Place of Retreat.

She fiddled with a key in her pocket. “I heard a sermon. I tried to ignore it, but you know how that goes.” She smiled. “The part I didn’t want to remember had to do with a mother and a son and a wild man. The wild man is locked up in a cage, the son is intrigued by him, the mother keeps the key to the cage under her pillow. It’s time for the boy to go off with the wild man and learn the mysteries of manhood. Will he have to steal the key, or will his mother give it to him?”

Danny gazed at her, his face in shadows. “You haven’t held me back.”

“I have.” Her laugh was uneven. “I just told you I wanted you to live here with us. I’ve also worried that you would fall in love with Skylar and she would break your heart. So here.” She pulled the key from her pocket and placed it in his hand. “I officially give you the key. Unlock the cage and go with the wild man.”

He didn’t move.

“I said go.”

“What’s the key really to?”

“I think a padlock on the barn. The fire burned the lock. Papa had an extra key.”

He smiled, leaned over, and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

Lord, I release him. Will You be his wild man?

Sixty

S
kylar paced in front of the sala’s large stone fireplace. Huge logs burned brightly behind the screen, warming the room.

She paced because Danny was on his way to see her.

How often he had come under the guise of helping around the hacienda. His visits had increased in the three months since she arrived at the hacienda, but he never admitted to coming specifically to see her. She was sort of like the “oh, by the way” room.
Oh, by the way, Skylar’s here.
They might as well hike or ride the horses or talk into the wee hours by the fountain or kiss under the stars.

He had held back, always keeping a part of himself closed off.

As he should have. She’d warned him he did not know her. Well, now he did. And now he was coming specifically to see her.

“Lord, have mercy on me a sinner,” she murmured the prayer Indio had taught her to say when she had no words of her own. When the fears and doubts overwhelmed, she was to speak simply to God, acknowledging His presence and her need of His mercy.

What else was there?

Skylar shortened the prayer, stringing the words together. “Lordhavemercy.”

One of the heavy doors was opening. Skylar stopped midstride. Her heart thumped in her throat. She did not expect a smile or a hug from the guy whose smiles and hugs had become her greatest source of hope.

Indio’s voice played in her mind. They had talked about her feelings toward Danny.
“Dear, you know that God is your greatest source of hope, not Danny. My grandson is a hottie and what feels like hope is simply your drooling over him.”

Skylar had nearly rolled on the floor in laughter over that one. Indio was a hoot, even more so since the truth had come out. She and Claire had been, if anything, even freer in expressing their love for Skylar. They held nothing back. They were Christ’s hands and speech to her. They were the ones she should look toward, not the grim, uptight Danny walking through the door.

Evidently he’d lost Wally Cleaver somewhere on the trip up.

“Hi,” she said, cringing inside at the hesitancy in her voice.

He shut the door and turned back around. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand. “Let’s settle this one point. I heard you the first time on the phone Sunday morning. You don’t have to say it again.”

Skylar bristled. “I just want that to be the premise of this conversation.”

“Duly noted.” He walked toward the fireplace, not looking at her.

That confirmed that no hug would accompany the no smile. She strode to the table, poured two mugs of tea from a pot, and carried them to where he sat.

He accepted one from her. “Thanks.”

She sat opposite him, in the other wingback chair in front of the fire. “Thanks for coming.”