Beyond Tuesday Morning (30 page)

She felt him move into the pew and ease into the space beside her. “Jamie, look at me. Talk to me.” Anguish was raw in his voice, mixed with shock.

It took everything to lift her head. This wasn't happening; it couldn't be. “You … you told me your name was Clay Miles.”

“No, Jamie.” Alarm joined the emotions burning in his eyes. He lowered his brow, concentrating. “I told you my name on the ferry. We were outside in the stairwell; it was loud.”

He was right. She could picture the moment, standing before him, the horn sounding when he told her his name. No wonder there'd been something familiar about him. He had his brother's eyes.

Clay was still watching her, staring at her, caught in the middle of a nightmare that couldn't possibly be true. “So you're the one.” His words were slow, full of disbelief. “Of all the people in this city, how could you be the one?”

“I'm sorry, Clay. I can't …” She didn't finish her sentence; she didn't need to. The look on Clay's face told her he understood. That because of his relationship to Eric, she and Clay could never move forward.

She closed her eyes and lifted her face.
God … why? Of all people, why him?
If only she'd heard him right the first time, heard him say Clay Michaels. She would've known instantly why he looked familiar. They would've figured out their strange connection, talked about it for the rest of the ferry ride, and gone their separate ways.

“Jamie, nothing has to change.” Clay leaned closer, his eyes wide, imploring her. “You don't have to come back for Thanksgiving if you don't want to; your time with Eric has nothing to do with this.”

She shook her head. “I can't.” She met his eyes and willed him to understand. Looking at Eric again would be like looking at Jake. She couldn't carry on even a friendship with Clay if it meant spending time with Eric. It'd be like trying to ignore Jake's ghost in the room.

Clay looked at his watch and pursed his lips. “I have to go.” He put his hand on hers. “Jamie, please. We'll talk about this. Nothing's changed.”

Jamie wanted to cry. She leaned toward him and slipped her arms around his neck. “Go, Clay.” She couldn't tell him good-bye, couldn't bear it. A part of her was dying, the part that was connected to the man in her arms.

He stroked her back. She could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder. “I'll call you as soon as I'm done today.”

The walls were up. His words no longer penetrated her heart the way they had before. She drew back and nodded. There was wetness on her cheeks, and for the first time she noticed. She was crying. He used his knuckle to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Then he stood and backed out of the pew, his eyes on her the entire time. “I'll call.”

She didn't argue. She wanted to be alone, to gather her feelings and stop the dizziness in her head. To look in the mirror and convince herself that the impossible had happened. Eric Michaels's brother really had come to town, saved her life, and made her feel things she hadn't felt since Jake.

;“Don't, Jamie, please.” He stopped. “This doesn't have to mean anything. Nothing's changed.” His eyes told her he was desperate for her to see things his way, that even though this was a twist, a strange coincidence, it didn't need to mean the end of what they'd started.

“Go.” She held up her hand, her eyes locked on his until he walked through the doors.

When he was gone, she knew it was too late. What they'd found was gone. If they'd figured it out that first morning, they could've spared themselves all of this. Because while she might be ready to start living again, ready to face a future without Jake, she couldn't start a relationship with Eric's brother.

Not if it meant seeing Eric again.

After all they'd been through, Jamie knew the only way she'd ever move on was to let him go. Bid him good-bye and never look back, not for anything.

Not even his brother, Clay.

T
WENTY
-O
NE

Sue Henning would know what to do.

Jamie picked up Sierra at school and headed straight for her friend's house. She had barely survived the day, convinced it all had to be some sort of bad joke. As long as she'd lived she'd never believed in love at first sight. Until she met Clay.

Their first meeting was like some sort of cosmic metaphor. She, alone and vulnerable, unaware of the dangers that surrounded her. Him, looking out for her, rushing to her rescue, protecting her the way she still needed protecting. He loved God and his country and
The Lion King.
What more could she ask?

Crazy girl, she'd told herself a hundred times that day. She didn't even know him, didn't know his faults other than one: he was impulsive.

The thing was, she'd never been quick with her decision-making. But she'd been drawn to him in a way that kicked common sense out the door. So much so that this morning when he'd asked her about Thanksgiving in California, the idea had seemed practical. Logical, even.

But that was before she knew about Eric.

She gritted her teeth as she rounded the corner to Sue's house. Why would God allow it? Why let them meet, why light the fire in her long-cold heart only to snuff it out this way?
God … You promised You'd see me through this.

The thought hung in the stale air of her car. A few feet away, Sierra turned and looked at her. “Did you cry today, Mommy?”

Jamie sniffed and shot her daughter a quick glance. “Of course not,” she lied.

“Then how come your eyes are puffy?” Sierra's knobby knees stuck out from her woolen jumper, the uniform she wore to school. Poor Sierra. She was still a little girl, her feet not quite touching the floor. She deserved a man like Clay in her life.

“Mommy, how come? How come your eyes are puffy?”

“Mrs. Henning says Katy's looking forward to seeing you.”

Sierra stared out the car window. “What about Clay? Will we see him today?”

Her words hit her like so many rocks. “I don't think so.”

The conversation stalled. Jamie turned into Sue's driveway. Anger welled up in her, anger at God for letting this insane thing happen. She cared about Clay, could easily love him. But being around Eric Michaels would be like being around Jake. Maybe she hadn't heard God about choosing life. Maybe He wanted her to choose her old life, with Jake's memory, her obsession with helping the victims of September 11, her work at St. Paul's.

Maybe she was never supposed to do anything more than thank Clay Michaels.

Sue was waiting out front, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. Even from fifteen feet away Jamie could read her; she was worried.

Sierra jumped out, waved hello to Sue, and ran inside calling Katy's name. Jamie felt tired and old, battered by the turn of events. She dragged herself up the walkway and met Sue's gaze. Jamie hadn't told her anything except the basics. She'd met someone on the ferryboat, a police officer from California. He was the reason she hadn't called in a few weeks.

But now things had gone terribly wrong.

“I still can't believe you didn't call sooner.” Sue's words were quiet, muffled by the icy breeze outside. They entered the house and went into the living room. Sue had two cups of tea already poured, waiting.

Jamie sat down across from Sue and clasped her hands. “I wanted to tell you.” She barely lifted her shoulders. “I guess I didn't know how. I still can't believe it myself.”

“Do you … do you have feelings for him?”

“I did.” Jamie felt tears in her eyes. She swallowed hard and found her voice again. “I've seen him every day since I met him. Whenever he isn't training or sleeping, he's been with Sierra and me.” Jamie told Sue how he'd taken them to
The Lion King
and shared a number of dinners with them. “It was all happening so fast, but it felt real. For the first time since Jake, it felt real.”

Sue frowned. “So where's the problem? Jamie, it's been three years. You're allowed to care about someone else.”

“You haven't.”

“But I would.” Sue's voice grew soft. “If God brought someone into my life, I would. I've thought about it lately.”

Jamie still hadn't gotten to the most important part, but now she had this to consider. Sue would care about someone else? Date someone else? She'd been thinking about it lately? Maybe they'd both been thinking about it, too afraid to tell the other that they couldn't imagine being alone for the rest of their lives. Even if the idea was unthinkable in light of the men they'd lost.

Sue took a sip of her tea. “What's so bad, Jamie? If it's guilt that's stopping you, let it go. Jake would want you to let it go.”

Jake's words filled her heart:
Choose life, Jamie. Whenever you can, choose life.
She closed her eyes. “You don't know the whole story.” She blinked and searched her friend's face. “It's the worst thing, Sue. You won't believe it.”

Worry colored the fine lines on Sue's forehead. “If he hurt you, he's not the guy you made him out to be.”

Jamie shook her head. “No, nothing like that.” She slid to the edge of the sofa, her heart beat fast and hard against the wall of her chest. “You remember Eric Michaels?”

Sue squinted. “Eric Michaels?”

“Yes.” Jamie exhaled hard. What did she expect? She'd seldom talked about Eric, just telling everyone—even Sue—the straight facts. The man she'd thought was Jake was really a businessman from Los Angeles, a man suffering from amnesia, one who looked enough like Jake to pass for him. She kept her answers short, and Sue had always known better than to ask. Now she had to revisit that time again—something she'd never wanted to do.

Sue shook her head. “The name's familiar, but I can't figure out why.”

“He's the man who lived with me, the one I thought was Jake.”

A knowing look filled her face. “Oh, right. Okay.” The frown was back. “Why bring him up?”

Jamie felt the blood leaving her face, felt herself reacting to the news as if she were hearing it for the first time again. Her tone was pinched, scratchy. “Clay's his brother.”

Seconds passed while Sue processed the news. “Clay, the police officer you met on the ferry, is Eric Michaels's brother?” Her eyebrows lifted and she lowered her chin. “That's impossible.”

“That's what I thought.” She stood and walked to the window, her back to her friend. The girls were upstairs, playing in Katy's room. Outside the trees were bare, a light snow had fallen the night before, and everything was the color of winter. “It's true, Sue. Clay's his brother. We found out this morning.” She looked over her shoulder at Sue. “He saw Jake's picture. A few minutes before he had to leave for his shift.”

“Oh, Jamie.” Sue's expression relaxed, but her face was taut, pale. “I can't believe it.”

“I told him I couldn't see him tonight.” She faced the window again. “I can't see him ever again.”

Sue was quiet. After a while, Jamie returned to the sofa and drank down half her tea. “I already miss him. I can't believe this is happening.” She set her cup down. “There's nothing you can do to help, but I had to tell you.”

A minute passed, and then Sue stood and crossed the room to the fireplace. Next to it was a bookshelf, and from a place in the back she pulled out a small urn. Jamie had one like it—given to them by the city. The urn held a few cups of debris and ash from the collapsed Twin Towers.

With slower steps, Sue carried it back to the coffee table and set it down on a spot between them both. She leveled her gaze at Jamie. “You know why they gave us those urns?”

Where on earth was her friend going with this? She didn't want to look at the urn or think about what might've been inside. The ashy remains of any of the two thousand victims. Jamie had kept hers out of respect for the lives lost that day. But it was hardly a reminder of Larry or Jake. “No.” She shook her head. “Mine's tucked away somewhere; I don't look at it.”

“I keep mine out.” She angled her head and looked at the detail on the small container. “It's a reminder of something that might be easy to forget otherwise.”

“What?” Jamie still didn't know what the urn had to do with her situation, the one she was battling that day.

“That Larry's not coming home.” Sue's voice cracked. “It reminds me that every terrible thing about September 11 really happened. That my husband and your husband were two of the heroes, two of the men who ran up the stairs when everyone else was running down.” She sniffed and pressed her finger to her lip. Sue rarely broke down, and this would be no exception. “Larry's gone. When his name is on my lips, when I jump up to ask his advice about something or wonder what he might want for dinner, I remember the urn and it's all real again. He's gone and he's not coming home.”

Jamie leaned closer. “I already know that about Jake.” She pressed her fingers against her chest. “I'm the one who's been dating these past two weeks. I don't need an urn to remember the truth about Jake. He's gone; I get that.”

“Yes.” Sue's voice was even, her eyes unwavering. “But there is something you have trouble remembering.”

“What?” She didn't come here for a lecture from Sue. “What do I have trouble remembering?”