Beyond Tuesday Morning (34 page)

But she couldn't keep her distance from Clay. Not a minute longer.

In as much time as it took him to look at her she understood that, understood it to the core of her being. He came to her, and they met in the middle, falling into an embrace that was seeped in sorrow and relief. Sorrow over Joe; relief that despite the strange circumstances, they'd found their way back together.

Clay held her for a long time, his arms around her waist, hers around his neck. Being with him like this was better than she could've dreamed. She closed her eyes and savored it. Life. Bubbling through her and filling her with a sort of joy that left her speechless.
God … I don't want him to ever let go. Please, God.

She opened her eyes. The officers had looked away. The waiting room offered little privacy, but at least the others weren't watching. She pressed her face against Clay's, still relishing the feel of his arms around her waist. “How is he?”

“Alive.” Clay drew back. He searched her eyes. “They're operating, but it doesn't look good. The bullet messed up his insides pretty good.” His cheeks were red and blotchy, his expression pained. “They told us to expect the worst.”

Jamie felt her heart sink to her ankles. “No …” She shook her head and tightened her grip on Clay's arms. “We can't give up.”

“I know.” Determination filled his eyes. “I've been praying.”

“Me too.” She paused. This wasn't the time, really. But she had to tell him, had to share what had happened to her that day. “Clay, there's something I want you to know.”

Concern filled his face. Clearly he expected her to say that though she had come, it was only as a show of support because of Joe. Not because she'd changed her mind about Clay or the situation with Eric.

“Relax. It's a good thing.”

He studied her, his brow knit together. “Good?”

“Yes.” She felt the corners of her mouth lift some. She eased her thumb along the fine lines in his forehead. “Sierra and I would like to spend Thanksgiving with you and your family.” Even with the sadness and pain in her heart because of Joe, she felt her eyes dance a little. “If we're still welcome, that is.”

“What about Eric?” He moved his hands up to her shoulders and studied her. As if she might vanish if he didn't hold on to her. “You're okay with him? Dinner's at his house.”

“God showed me something today.” She looped her hands around the back of his neck. “I lost Jake on September 11; he was never alive after that.” A wave of sorrow came over her, but she rode it out. “Every memory I have from that point on wasn't with Jake; it was with Eric. A stranger who came to our house to learn how to be the kind of father and family man God wanted him to be.”

Clay nodded, studying her, making sure she believed the words she was saying. “You mean it?”

“Yes.” She hugged him for a long while before pulling back and finding his eyes. “Eric was never Jake, and if he wasn't Jake, then what's the problem? He's just a nice guy who looks a lot like my husband.”

For a moment, Clay's mouth hung open. Then he shook his head. “I prayed for this, Jamie. That you'd understand about Eric. But when you didn't take my calls, I—”

“Shhh.” She held her finger up to his lips. “I understand.” They released their hold on each other, and she led him to a pair of seats a few yards away from the other officers. When they sat down, she wove her fingers between his. “We need another miracle tonight. Let's pray for Joe.”

Clay held her eyes a moment, then bowed his head and began to pray. He begged God for the same things Jamie had been asking for. That Joe would live; that he would have no lasting effects from the terrible gunshot wound.

When the prayer was over, they spotted Wanda. She was just entering the emergency room, frantic fear scrawled across her face. Right away she saw them and she started to cry. “Jamie!”

She stood and met her friend, holding her even when her legs buckled. Clay was on his feet, helping ease Wanda into a chair, but she was unstable. Dizzy from the shock. When she was seated between them, she leaned forward, clearly trying to fight what must've been a consuming panic. “How is he? Can I see him?”

Clay gave her the update, and when he got to the part about his chances, Wanda broke down, weeping, clinging to both of them.

“I … I waited too long!” She could barely breathe for the sobs. “I can't … lose him now.” She looked at Jamie, her expression frozen in regret. “I love him, Jamie. I love him.”

They stayed that way most of the night, long after the other detectives reported that the suspects had been arrested, along with four other men—all part of the drug ring responsible for the murder in the alley, as well as a host of other unsolved crimes. Once they'd delivered that news, the other detectives said their good-byes and their condolences.

And still the three of them stayed, Jamie and Clay on either side of Wanda, taking turns holding her while she cried, comforting her and listening to her talk about Joe and how much she'd missed him and how come she couldn't have told him so sooner.

“Pride, that's what it was.” She came up with this conclusion sometime around four in the morning. “I would've called him back the day he left if it weren't for my cursed pride.”

Jamie shot a look at Clay as relief made its way through her.
Thank You, God … that it's not ten years from now and me saying those words about Clay.

The night wore on, and twice doctors reported no change. Joe was still in critical condition, still on life support, his body trying to adjust to the massive blood loss and internal injuries. Jamie was exhausted, but they had to hold on. News could come at any minute.

The group grew quiet, lost in their own prayers and thoughts. Sometime around seven that morning, Clay was pacing along the window area, and Wanda had her face in her hands when a doctor entered the waiting room.

He was grinning.

All three of them were on their feet, meeting the doctor. Only Clay could find the words to speak. “How is he?”

“I'm amazed, really. A half hour ago his vital signs had a sudden improvement. We took him off life support, and he's doing well.” The doctor gave a shake of his head. “
Very
well. Almost as if someone breathed life into him.”

“Oh my …” Wanda lifted her fingers slowly to her mouth. Her eyes found Clay's and then Jamie's. “For the past hour I changed my prayer. I told God if he'd let Joe live, I'd spend the rest of my days by that man's side, following the Lord together, the way we should have from the beginning.”

Chills ran down Jamie's arms.

The doctor gave Wanda a knowing nod. “I've seen this kind of thing too often to doubt it. God still works miracles today; I'm convinced.” He paused. “You've been here all night. You can come in and see him if you'd like. He's trying to come around.”

“Oh, thank God!” Wanda hugged the doctor. “He's giving me one more chance!”

Jamie rubbed her arms to ward off another series of chills. How was it possible? Two hours ago Joe barely clung to life, and now he was breathing on his own, waking up? The power of God at work in their presence was enough to drop her to her knees.

Instead she took Clay's hand and the three of them followed the doctor to Joe's room. He was hooked to half a dozen machines, and he had tubes running into his nose and arms. But otherwise he looked well. His midsection was bandaged and a light sheet covered him to his waist.

Wanda looked at the doctor. “Can I … can I touch him?”

Joe moved his lips and made a weak attempt at clearing his throat. “Doc …” His voice was scratchy. “That's my Wanda.” He struggled, wincing from the pain. “You better … tell her yes.”

“Joe!” She framed his face with her hands and kissed him square on the mouth. “I'm sorry! It wasn't all your fault, it was mine.” She was crying again, crying and smiling and holding on to Joe the same way Jamie had hung on to Clay hours earlier. Her words spilled out almost too fast to understand. “I should've gone after you when Jimmy died, and instead I made a stupid mistake and lost you. I lost you, but it was my pride.” She took a quick breath. “My pride, I tell you. It kept me from calling when I should've, and now it almost kept me from telling you the most important thing, because Joe Reynolds, I have pride something fierce! But guess what?”

He blinked and his eyes opened just enough to see her. “You won … the speed-talking award?”

She stopped and sat a bit straighter. Then her eyes lit up, and she looked at Jamie and Clay. “He's gonna be fine! If he's got his humor, he's gonna be just fine.”

The slits in Joe's eyes grew wider. He looked around the room, wincing again as he shifted himself higher on his pillow. “Michaels?”

“I'm here.” Clay took a step forward.

“Tell me they got those punks.” His words were slow, but he was coming back a little more every few minutes.

Clay smiled and Jamie moved in beside him. “Got 'em good, buddy. Real good.”

“Attempted murder?” He managed a weak smile.

Jamie understood.
Attempted
murder, because Joe had every intention of surviving the shooting. She felt something warm work its way through her, and she knew what it was. Blessed assurance. The certainty that God had indeed worked not just one miracle in their midst by bringing her to the understanding that she could see Clay again. But He'd worked the miracle of Joe's life as well.

Clay took another step closer and put his hand on Joe's knee. “More than that.” He looked at Jamie. “The guys were wanted for a bunch of drug deals and one other murder. They were part of a ring.”

“Scary.” Jamie felt the blood leave her face.

“Yeah.” Clay gave her a look that told her he'd known this information all night, but hadn't wanted to share it until now.

Jamie looked at the floor near her feet, too shocked to speak. Fear tap-danced around Jamie but didn't touch her. It could have been Clay just as easily. She met his eyes and looped her arm through his. “I'm so glad they caught them.”

Joe gave a slow nod and looked at Jamie. He shifted his gaze to Clay. “What else they get 'em for?”

“Besides attempted murder?” Clay grinned at his friend. “Homicide in the alley killing and a number of drug charges.”

Joe lifted his head a few inches off the pillow. “They were the killers?”

“Not sure which one was the shooter, but the police think one of 'em is their guy.”

“Okay, then ask the doc … when I can leave.” His voice was still scratchy, his words still slow. He smiled at Wanda. “That news calls for a party.”

“No parties.” Wanda kissed him on the cheek. The mood changed as she grew quiet, searching his eyes. “You have to get better, Joe. And when you go back to L.A. you have to take me and the kids with you.” Her voice was softer, not the hysterical weeping or giddy excitement from earlier, but a deep warmth that filled the room. “I love you, Joe Reynolds. God gave me the chance to tell you. This time I'm not going to miss it.”

Clay shifted and pulled Jamie into another embrace. Not as desperate as the one they'd shared when she first arrived at the hospital, but one of joy and contentment.

He whispered close to her ear. “I think we should leave them alone.”

“Me too.” Jamie stifled a giggle and let herself get lost in Clay's eyes. “Besides, you have a call to make.”

“I do?” He nuzzled his nose against hers.

“Yes.” Now that Joe was doing better, she allowed herself to be lost in the feelings he stirred in her. She wanted to kiss him, wanted it as much as she wanted her next breath. But they had other details to take care of first.

“Okay, Miss Jamie.” He held her closer, a lazy smile hanging on his lips, his eyes filled with desire. “Who do I have to call?”

“Your brother, so you can tell him the news. Sierra and I are coming for Thanksgiving.”

T
WENTY
-F
IVE

Jamie was nervous.

Whatever she told herself or Clay or Sue or anyone else, her stomach was tight and her heart raced even when she was sitting still. For three years she had accepted she would never see Eric Michaels again, and now, in a few days, she was about to do just that. The level of anxiety over the matter hit her again the Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving. She was about to have dinner with Eric and his wife; the idea still seemed like something from a dream.

Or a nightmare.

The flight took forever, and Jamie tried not to think about Eric. There were more pressing matters. How fast the plane could fly, for instance. Only two days had passed since she'd been with Clay, but she couldn't wait to see him. It seemed forever before the plane finally circled over Burbank and came in for a smooth landing.

“I'm excited, Mommy. I've never seen California.” Sierra squeezed Jamie's hand as they stepped off the plane and onto the jetway.

“I think you'll like it.” Jamie grinned at her. They held hands as they headed down the concourse toward security. She spotted Clay just as his eyes found her through the crowd.

“Look!” Sierra let go of her hand and did a few jumps. “It's Clay! Can I go see him?”