One Tuesday Morning & Beyond Tuesday Morning Compilation (48 page)

“Laura … this is Murphy.” The man paused. “Are you sitting down?”

The blood began to drain from Laura's face, and she uttered a forced laugh. Only one thought planted itself in her mind. They must've found Eric's body. “Murphy … what're you talking about.”

“I'm serious, Laura. Get a chair.”

Murphy had always been gruff and to the point, short on words and shorter still on personality. Not once in all the years Laura had known him had he ever tried to be funny. She set the flowers down on the counter, made her way into the living room, and sat on the nearest sofa.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Clay make his way inside and take a seat near her. She shot him a look and whispered the word, “Murphy.” She sucked in a jagged breath. “What's going on, Murph? You sound funny.”

Murphy muttered something. Then he inhaled sharply. “Laura … I got a call today. A lady from New York City.” He did a short huff. “You aren't going to believe this. I know it because I still don't believe it myself.”

Laura's throat was thick, and her heart had slipped into an unrecognizable rhythm. “Just say it, Murphy. What was the call about?”

“The woman told me she has Eric. He's alive, Laura. He got amnesia when the building collapsed, but he's alive. He's been living in Staten Island.”

Laura would've dropped the phone, except her hands were suddenly frozen. “What!” She stood up and walked a few hurried steps in one direction, then the other, then back. “Murphy, don't do this to me if you're not serious. You're telling me Eric's alive?”

She looked at Clay and saw a series of emotions pass across his face. Shock, disbelief, and confusion. Followed quickly by the proper look of hope and anticipation. He was at her side in an instant, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders as she learned the details of what had happened.

“I guess Eric looked just like this other lady's husband. A firefighter from New York City.” Murphy hesitated. “They found out yesterday it wasn't her husband, after all. It was Eric.”

Laura couldn't begin to identify her emotions. Eric was alive? How was it possible, and were they sure it was him? She squeezed her eyes shut. “What if it's not him?”

“His memory's coming back, Laura. He remembers who he is now.”

So, it was true! Eric was alive, and the reality of that fought to make its way into her consciousness. Ever since September 11, Laura had found most comfort by reliving the good times, the days back when they were first married, before they'd lost their baby daughter. Sarah. But now, in light of the fact that he was living, more recent memories barged their way in. So he was alive? Did that mean he'd come home ready to take on life at Koppel and Grant again? Would he even want to come home? And what place did he have there after being gone so long? There were details that suddenly needed figuring out, and Laura didn't know what to begin to feel.

She barely listened as Murphy rattled on about his conversation with the New York woman. Only one thing was absolutely sure in her mind. She was grateful she had never let herself fall in love with Clay Michaels. She cared about him, yes, but she would never love him. Not the way she knew he loved her. Because her entire heart and soul were still given to the only man who had ever laid ownership to them.

Yes, their marriage was a mess, and they had issues they needed to talk about. Maybe it would be months or years before things would be right again. But he definitely had a place in her life. Of course. He was alive again—and that could only mean that she'd been given the second chance she'd prayed about. A chance to love a man who wasn't dead, after all, and who—whatever he'd been through—might come home soon. A man who one day might be willing to break down and mourn the loss of their baby daughter, a man who in time might even choose to make changes in their marriage that could give her the family she'd always dreamed about.

A man named Eric Michaels.

T
HIRTY
-F
OUR

D
ECEMBER
4, 2001

The arrangements came together quickly.

Now that Eric's wife knew the truth, Jamie had no choice but to make the call. A call that would send the man who looked like Jake home where he belonged, one that would leave Jamie's heart as empty as her house.

Eric had asked her to do the talking, because after being gone so long, after changing so much, he didn't want to speak to his wife until they were face-to-face.

Jamie understood.

And so she called the woman, and as simply as possible, she filled in the details about what had happened to her husband. “He … he could've been my husband's twin.” Jamie sat next to Eric, holding his hand as she explained the situation to Laura Michaels. “It wasn't until he started getting flashbacks that we realized he might not be the man I married.”

The woman listened, and the few times she had questions, her voice was filled with empathy. Only once did the woman ask about the friendship Eric had obviously developed with Jamie. “Is … does my husband love you?”

A lump formed in Jamie's throat, and she squeezed Eric's hand. “We've become very good friends.” She sniffed, forcing herself to stay composed. She glanced at Eric and held his eyes. “But he's married to you, Mrs. Michaels. He wants to come home as quickly as possible.”

An hour later Laura called back with flight plans. She would fly into La Guardia the following morning just before noon and escort Eric home. And for Jamie, that would be the end of it, the end of believing for two months that her husband was alive. The end of hoping that a few memories were all that stood between her and the life she'd once shared with Jake.

When Jamie hung up the phone, she hugged Eric and whispered near his ear. “Pray for Sierra … it's going to be so hard on her.”

“Oh, Jamie, honey, I'm sorry … I never meant for any of this to happen.” He stroked her back as a single sob worked its way through her chest. “If only my memory would've come back sooner, maybe none of this—”

She drew back and placed a finger on his lips. “No, Eric … God wanted you here.” She sniffed and smiled at him through her tears. “As hard as this is for all of us … you being in my life these past months was part of His plan.” A happy cry came from her, and she wiped her cheeks. “Think about it. Without you I wouldn't have learned to believe in God. And you …” She brushed away another series of tears. “You would still be some business executive who didn't know how to love.” She shook her head and held his face gently in her hands. “And now … as long as you live, you'll take a little bit of Jake Bryan with you.”

“But how …” Eric's voice was barely more than a whisper, and tears choked every word. “How I am ever going to say good-bye?”

****

The two of them spent their last night together with Sierra.

They shared Hawaiian pizza, and Eric dutifully collected his pineapple pieces and gave them to Sierra, who had declared herself a pineapple princess some weeks ago. After dinner, Eric and Jamie took turns reading to her, and finally they cozied up on the sofa on either side of her and watched
Little Mermaid
. At the end when the mermaid decides to return to land and has to bid her father good-bye, Eric could do nothing about the steady stream of tears on his cheeks. He didn't dare look at Jamie; he already knew she was crying.

Their nighttime ritual was no different than usual, except that this time Eric kissed Sierra good-night and walked out of her room for the last time. After he shut her door and took two steps, he turned and fell into Jamie's arms. “She deserves a daddy, Jamie.” He let out a quiet, desperate sound. “It kills me to think she won't have one after tomorrow.”

Jamie cried too, but she had a strength that surprised him. Clearly she'd been praying about this good-bye, asking God to prepare her heart and see her through it. Eric only hoped God would do the same for him. A piece of him couldn't wait to be back with Laura, to show her how he'd changed and beg her forgiveness about how he'd treated her in the past. He was remembering more with each passing hour, and he knew that he'd all but abandoned both his wife and his young son.

He prayed they'd forgive him.

But though he looked forward to being with them, he was torn apart at the thought of leaving Jamie and Sierra. That night as he and Jamie parted at the foot of the stairs and said good-night, Eric was tempted beyond reason to follow her. Just this one time. To lie beside her and hold her, love her and cry with her and wish that somehow they could keep the sun from rising in the morning.

The thought left as soon as it had come, and he merely hugged her once more and kissed her on the cheek. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he spent the entire night dreaming of Laura and Josh. What if they didn't want him back? Maybe the damage he'd done wasn't something he could fix? Questions and strange bits of imagined conversations played in his mind all night.

In what felt like five minutes, he woke to the sounds of Jamie and Sierra in the kitchen. She had told him he could wear one of Jake's outfits home. Other than that, he had nothing to pack. Everything he'd thought was his really belonged to Jake.

Eric showered and shaved—surprised at how the scars on his face had faded. He still had to be careful with the new skin, but it appeared that the doctor had been right. Eventually, it would be almost impossible to tell what Eric had been through.

Except in the private places of his heart.

He made his way to the kitchen, and Sierra ran to him, the way she had done every day since he came home from the hospital. Jamie smiled at him from her place near the stove, and he gave her a quick wink before turning his attention to Sierra.

“Daddy! Guess what?”

Eric had to swallow hard to keep from crying. “What?”

“Mommy's making blueberry pancakes! Isn't that great? It's my bestest kind of all!”

He swept her into his arms and nuzzled his face against hers.
God … watch over this child … and one day give her the father she needs. Please, God
. “You're sure pretty today, princess.”

“Yeah, but my hair's too straight, and Mommy says I get to play with Katy.” She pulled back, her chin lowered in a way that tugged hard at Eric's heart. “Can you curl it, Daddy, even though it isn't Sunday?”

Eric blinked back the beginnings of tears. “Of course, honey. I'd love to.” He slid Sierra back to the floor and watched her scamper to her spot at the table. Then he went up alongside Jamie and leaned his head close to hers. “I don't know if I can do this.”

She sniffed and raised her eyes up for a minute. “I've been up since four … talking to God.” The pancakes sizzled and she flipped them. Then she looked at him and smiled. Her eyes were dry, but he could see she'd been crying. “You can do it, Eric. We both can. And one day everything will all be okay again. God promised me.”

They took their places at the table, and Sierra chattered happily about being in kindergarten the following fall and Christmas coming up and the fact that pineapple was her favorite fruit. Next to blueberries.

When the meal was over, Eric cast a glance at Jamie. “Want help with the dishes?”

“No, thanks.” She shook her head, her eyes glistening. “I think you have some hair to curl.”

Eric followed Sierra up to Jamie's bedroom and plugged in the curling iron. It was a routine he'd learned weeks ago, and one that had given Sierra and him many special times to talk. Sierra bopped about along the bathroom counter, looking at Jamie's makeup and perfume bottles, completely unaware of the way her life was about to change.

The curling iron was ready, and Eric clicked it a few times. His signal that Sierra needed to come to him and stand still while he worked. She did, turning her back to him and letting her long blonde hair cascade down her little back. Eric opened the iron and pinched it around one section of Sierra's hair. Then he rolled it halfway up her back.

“So … you're going to Katy's today, huh?”

“Yep.” Sierra held her chin high, careful not to move. “Katy's never seen my hair with curlies in it.”

One by one Eric worked his way around her head until gorgeous curls surrounded her like a halo. Eric unplugged the iron and set it back on the counter where it could cool.

At that moment, they heard Jamie calling to her. “Sierra … I have to run you over to Katy's house. Come on … it's time.”

Sierra wriggled her nose at Eric. “Thanks, Daddy. No one does curlies like you.”

Eric caught the child's chin between his thumb and forefinger and looked straight into her eyes. “You know something?”

“What?” Her little-girl eyes danced, the way they always did whenever she was with him.

“I think Mommy would do an even better job at curlies.” Eric lowered his voice and glanced at the door. “Actually, she's the best curler in the whole world. She just doesn't want everyone to know.”

Sierra's eyes grew wide. “Really?”

“Really.” Eric could feel his heart breaking. “So this Sunday before church … I think Mommy should get a chance to curl your hair.” He forced a smile. “Okay?”

“Okay! Can I tell her?”

Eric gave a quick shake of his head. “Not yet. Not until Sunday, all right?”

“All right.” Sierra took his hand then and led him toward the door. “We gotta go now. Katy's waiting.”

Jamie was in the foyer, watching them as they walked hand in hand down the stairs. She spoke to Sierra but kept her eyes completely on Eric. “It's time to go. Say good-bye to Daddy, and we'll head over to Katy's, okay?” She took a few steps back, her eyes still locked on Eric's. He understood. She was giving him this time, this space to say one last good-bye.

Eric worked the muscles in his jaw and sat back on his heels. He met Sierra's eyes for what would be the last time and whispered, “Come here, baby.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Bye, Daddy. Have a good day.”

A sob lodged itself in Eric's throat, and for a full minute he couldn't say anything. Instead, he simply held her, stroking her back and begging God to be the father she wouldn't have after that morning. When he could finally speak, he pulled away some and smiled at her. “I love you, Sierra. You know that, right?”