Forgiven (39 page)

Then Bailey did something that took Katy’s breath away. She leaned in and hugged Jeremy Fisher. When she drew back, he looked like a lost little boy. The pain of his mother’s leaving and his father’s being in Iraq, the emptiness of drinking, and the horror of the accident—all of it was on his face. But there was something else there, something that hadn’t been there before.

A thin ray of hope.

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Only one more CKT student remained, the one who had called Katy only last night to ask if she could come. The one that

tugged at Katy’s heart more than all the others combined. Brandi Hanover.

Since the accident, she’d had three operations on her leg, and she still wore a full-length cast. She inched forward with the use of her crutches.

Jeremy watched her, and a deep fear filled his eyes, as if he knew who she was and if he’d had the chance, he would’ve bolted from the room and run from her.

Near the door, the other kids were sniffling, many of them crying openly Brandy made it toJeremy Fisher’s side, and for a long time she only looked at him. Then she handed him something, and Katy squinted to see what it was. Only as Jeremy took it did she get a good look. It was a school picture of Brandy’s brother, Ben, the last one he’d ever taken. Katy had seen the picture before. It would appear in the Annie program on a memory page, alongside a photo of Sarah Jo.

“That’s my brother, Ben.” Brandy glanced at the picture. It was an adorable shot, showing Ben’s impish grin and his missing front tooth. Brandy’s tears were like many of the others, quiet and controlled, leaving her the ability to speak clearly. She looked at Jeremy. “I thought you might want to know about Ben.” She paused, but only long enough to balance on her crutches and wipe her cheeks.

“Ben loved singing and dancing and Peter Pan. He couldn’t wait to try out for CKT.” She sniffed, but her voice stayed strong. “He thought Neverland was a real place, and he used to run into my room with his Peter Pan hat and bug me by singing as loud as he could, ‘I can fly… I can fly . I can fly.”

Jeremy leaned back and shaded his eyes with his hand. Tears streamed down his face, and his body jerked from a series of sobs, 325

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Brandy put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel worse, Jeremy.” She shifted her position, putting her broken leg out to the side. “I just want you to know him.”

She waited untilJeremy put his hand down and looked at her. Jeremy’s voice was thick, but he managed to say, “Go ahead.”

Brandy took the photo of Ben and smiled at it. “He was the slowest one in the morning. He would wait till the last minute to comb his hair or wash his cereal bowl.” She handed the photo back to Jeremy. “He always drank the last of the milk before I had a chance. But at night he’d sit on my knee when Mom read Dr.

Seuss to us. He loved Horton Hears a Who! When I was in a play, no one ever clapped louder.” Rivers of tears spilled down her cheeks. She put her hand over her heart and looked straight into Jeremy’s eyes. “Nothing’s the same without him. I miss him so much.”

Jeremy looked at the picture in his hand and then up at Brandy. His face twisted in a mix of sorrow and horror and regret. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I forgive you, Jeremy.” Brandy took the photo back and studied it for a long moment, Then she put her hand on Jeremy’s and brought her face closer to his. “Please … don’t drink anymore. Okay?”

Katy rubbed her fists across her own cheeks and drew a deep breath. It was her turn, but she couldn’t imagine how she was supposed to close the moment, not when she couldn’t even speak. She watched Brandy hobble over and join the rest of the group. That’s when it hit her. If an eleven-year-old could do what Brandy Hanover had just done, then she could pray. Even if she sobbed through the entire thing.

“God—” she put one hand onJeremy’s shoulder—”we’re here because we’ve loved and we’ve lost. We lost Ben and Sarah Jo, but—” she steadied herself–”but we don’t want to lose Jeremy too. So we ask with one voice, one heart, that You will awaken

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Jeremy to Your truth and Your salvation. To Your forgiveness. And in the meantime let him know that everyone in this room will be praying for him.”

Jeremy was weeping too hard to speak. They looked at him one last time; then he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. He stayed that way, his shoulders shaking, as they left the room.

Katy would be back to talk to him, back to see if he was ready to make a decision to follow Jesus. But even as he wept, Katy had the strongest sense that the others would see Jeremy Fisher again, and that when they did, he wouldn’t be merely the drunk driver responsible for killing a couple of CKT kids.

He would be a fellow believer.

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CHAPTER THIRTY ……………. :i :’,. .. …….

NO FORCE ON EARTH could’ve kept Dayne from keeping his promise this Friday night in November.

He landed in Indianapolis and rented a car the smart way, the way that gave him a clear path to Bloomington without worrying that the paparazzi had followed him. He pulled into town thirty minutes early and drove to the theater parking lot. Darkness had already fallen, and Dayne was glad. No one would notice him; no one would expect Dayne Matthews to be driving around the Bloomington Community Theater now. Not when he was still finishing reshoots for Dream On at the Hollywood studio.

A quick glance at the parking lot and he found Katy’s car. She would be inside, going over a hundred last-minute details. He parked and rolled down the window.

The air was much colder than it had been in September, but it smelled faintly of burning leaves and damp wood, the way home would always smell to him.

He thought about his last meeting with Katy at Lake Monroe, how confused and shortsighted he’d been. So much had changed 328

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since then. The peace he’d found in the storage unit had remained. He’d apologized to Kelly Parker, and the two had remained friends. She rebounded quickly, moving straight from his Malibu house to the one belonging to Hawk Daniels, just down the road. One day he hoped to tell Kelly a little more about the changes happening in him. But first he needed to understand them himself.

The people from the Kabbalah Center had stopped calling, and every day Dayne would open the Bible Katy had given him and find that God’s Word spoke to him.

Mitch Henry, the director, had noticed the difference. At first it worried him.

“Don’t lose your edge on me, Matthews. I need you in top form through the whole film, through editing and retakes and all of it.”

But after a while, Mitch had come back to him, surprised. “Whatever’s happened to you, keep it up. You’re a different person on camera. Transparent and real.

The audience is gonna love it.”

Dayne was glad about that, but it wasn’t what drove him. The peace, the forgiveness, that’s what kept him going back to the Bible as often as he had the chance. There were passages he didn’t grasp and changes that still needed to come. But he was a different person today than he had been the last time he was in Bloomington.

He only wished for a chance to tell Katy.

But he couldn’t, because he couldn’t stay long. He had to be back on the set at noon tomorrow, so he’d booked a red-eye back home tonight. His return flight to Los Angeles left in five hours. He would watch the show and be on his way.

Because he was finished lying to people. And this was something he’d promised Katy.

He left his car and walked across the lot toward the theater. He wore his sweatshirt and baseball cap again, the disguise that best hid who he was. The plan was simple. He’d ask for a balcony

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seat, and since so few people ever sat in the balcony, he’d have a good chance of not being recognized. That and a good view of the stage.

The crowd was thick near the door. He kept his face down, occasionally glancing at the far wall where no one was standing. When it was his turn to pay, he pretended to be caught up in a search through his wallet.

‘Just a minute.” He riffled through it, staring straight down. “Yes, here it is.” He handed the woman the exact change, then dropped a few dollars on the floor. He was picking them up while the woman handed him a balcony ticket.

Without looking up he took it and thanked her, still stuffing the loose bills into his wallet.

“You’re in luck. I gave you front row.” The woman had a smile in her voice. “You should have a good view from up there.”

He thanked her again, but he was already facing the stairs. On his way up he took a program from a basket, avoiding the ushers stationed at the door of the main-floor seating area. He found his seat and settled back, taking in the view around him. The woman was right. He could see the entire theater, the people filing in and trying to find their seats while the smell of popcorn drifted up.

All of it filled his senses and made him long for the chance to return again and again. At a time when he wouldn’t have to hide in the balcony. He looked at the stage and imagined what the sets and backdrop would look like. His sister Ashley Baxter Blake was supposed to be amazing, and now he could hardly stand waiting five more minutes until he could see her work.

The commotion was picking up, so he shifted enough to see the main-theater seating again. So far he hadn’t seen Katy, not that he expected to. She would be busy behind the scenes. He only hoped he could see her before he left, even from a distance. He spotted Ashley walking in through the far side entrance. Next to her was a tall man, and next to him was a blond boy, 330

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maybe seven years old. The boy was familiar, and Dayne realized why. He’d seen all of them as a group the evening when they left the hospital, the day that he’d seen Elizabeth.

Dayne leaned forward and studied them. His nephew bounced along, taking hold of the man’s hand and tugging on Ashley’s sleeve. Dayne squinted, trying to see the child’s expression. He looked happy and bubbly, like he’d be a kick to hang out with. Something else too. The boy resembled him, like pictures he’d seen of himself at that age.

Was this always how it would be? Clandestine moments and stolen glimpses, no relationship, no connection with the people who were his own flesh and blood, his family? Ashley led her husband and son to a row of seats near the middle of the theater. As they worked their way in, another brunette stood, then one with hair that was a little bit lighter. Dayne felt his breath catch in his throat.

These were his other sisters—he recognized them too. Then a man with two little girls came down the aisle. The littlest one used a walker, but her face was all lit up, probably excited about the show. Dayne marveled at the scene, took in every second of it, mesmerized by their faces and actions, the fact that they felt so familiar to him.

If he could only bound down the stairs and go to them, tell them the truth and not worry about the fallout. He sat back in his seat, his eyes riveted on them.

He had nothing to worry about, but that wasn’t all that mattered. For the Baxters, they had everything to lose—a sense of privacy and decency that would be marred forever if they were ever pictured in the tabloids. And once they were there, they’d never have the same existence again.

He wouldn’t risk it—not now or ever.

Moments like this were all he would ever have, and they would have to be enough.

Ashley was laughing about something, hugging the one he figured was Brooke.

That’s when he

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noticed something else. Ashley was pregnant. The thought was bittersweet—happiness for her and her husband and little boy and bottomless sorrow because this child would be one more family member he’d never know.

The lights faded to dark then, and the orchestra began the overture.

Dayne glanced at his watch. He had just two hours before he had to leave.

Katy raced through the greenroom putting out last-minute fires. “I don’t have my eyelash curler!” It was one of the orphans. “Hold tight.” Katy zipped across the room and led one of the makeup moms to the girl. She made it another five feet toward the door when another orphan popped out from the group and held her hands up. Her tattered skirt was covered with dirt.

“I was putting on my dirt smudges, and the whole jar spilled.” Her face was pale, even through the stage makeup, terrified at what might happen now that she’d spilled on her dress minutes before the performance.

Katy bent down, brushed off the skirt as best she could, and smiled at the girl.

“You’re an orphan. It works. Don’t worry about it, honey.”

Connor Flanigan waved at her from across the room. He held a mustache in his hand. “My spirit gum’s all dried up. I need a mustache for the third scene.”

“You’re right. Bert Healy has to have a mustache.” She made a frantic search of the dressing-room table and found a bottle. Spirit gum was the safest glue for theater work. She dabbed some on Connor’s lip, pressed the mustache into place, and patted his head. “Go get ‘em!”

Finally she made it to the stairs, raced up, and found her usual opening-night spot—in the box on the left side of the theater.

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From there she could see the wings and the stage and much of the audience reaction, all except the balcony. The way it was situated, she could see just the tops of the heads of people in that section.

She took her seat and exhaled, catching her breath. The theater was already dark, and the orchestra was playing. Everything was in order. Now At was up to the kids. She squinted at the first row near the stage and wondered if the Hanovers and the Strykers would come. But it was too hard to tell in the dark.

Not until the overture ended and the lights came up did she see for herself what she’d been hoping for. The kids’ prayers had been answered. There in the front row was Alice Stryker, her husband, and their little boy, Joey. Next to them were Mr. and Mrs. Hanover and Brandy, her casted leg sticking straight forward.

Between them was an empty seat, the one where Ben would’ve sat.