Tracie Peterson
Authors: Entangled
© 1997 by Tracie Peterson
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
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Ebook edition created 2012
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eISBN 978-1-4412-7080-1
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the Holy Bible, New International Version ®. NIV ®. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.© Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
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Cover illustration by William Graf
To Judith Pella
For your friendship, your teaching, and for just being a lot
of fun to be around. Here’s to many years of writing
together!
Contents
One
Cara Kessler slowly came awake to the gentle sounds of classical music. Refusing to open her eyes, she reached across her side of the bed, touched the empty pillow beside her, and sighed. It was a ritual that had haunted Cara for over five years.
Jack isn’t here. Jack will never be here again.
She opened her eyes and sighed a second time.
Five years of widowhood had yet to foster familiarity, and in moments like these, Cara wondered if she would ever again know what it felt like to be whole.
She shut off the radio alarm, then rolled over to press her face against Jack’s long-deserted pillow. After multiple washings from tears and launderings, it no longer smelled like him. But somehow it didn’t matter. It was still Jack’s pillow and it was still Jack’s bed and she was still Jack’s widow.
In the early mornings she tried to remember every detail of his face, but as the years wore on it became increasingly hard. She’d listen for a memory of his voice, but that too had faded into silence. The only good thing was that the harsh stabbing pain had faded as well. In its place was a numbing lonely resolve Cara could never quite figure out how to handle.
Sometimes she wanted to hate him for leaving her alone. Yet deep inside she knew she could never hate Jack, just as she knew she was never really alone. There was always God . . . and Brianna.
“God will be with you even after I’m gone,”
Jack had whispered in a dying voice.
“I’m not really dead, remember that, Cara. Remember it for Brianna’s sake. Remember it for your sake. Find someone to love you and Bri. One day, we’ll be caught up together.”
And then he had closed his eyes and slipped away. Away from her loving touch. Away from the five-year-old daughter who needed him. Away from their youth ministry work. Away for good.
Some days were harder than others, even though Cara had tried to face each one in a positive manner. Today promised to be one of those hard days.
“Mama!” Brianna’s voice squealed as she dove onto the bed.
Taking Cara by surprise, the lively ten
-year-old had no way of realizing she had rescued her mother from certain despair. “Brianna, my little ray of sunshine,” Cara said, mussing the already disheveled brown hair. “Come cuddle with me.” She threw back the comforter to admit Brianna. Pulling her daughter close, she sighed for the third time that day. This sigh, however, was one of contentment.
“So what’s our plan for this particular Saturday, Mistress Brianna?” she asked her daughter conspiratorially.
“You promised we’d go to the zoo—to see where they put Daddy’s brick, remember?”
Cara nodded, remembering the zoo’s fund raiser. A brick bearing the name “Jack Kessler” was now a permanent fixture of the new children’s section at the world-famous Topeka Zoo.
“I remember. So we go to the zoo and then—” Cara’s voice was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
“Oh, great,” Brianna moaned.
“Hello?” she answered, noting her daughter’s frown. No doubt Brianna worried that the caller would take Cara away for the day.
“Cara? It’s Melissa Jordon. Used to be Melissa Cabot back in Hays.”
The voice was strangely familiar. In the silence, a memory and an image came to mind. “Missy?”
“Melissa, these days. My grandmother named her rat terrier Missy, and that put an end to my nickname.”
Cara laughed. “I haven’t talked to you in years. I can’t even remember the last time.” But then she did remember. It was at Jack’s funeral.
Melissa seemed to sense the meaning of Cara’s sudden silence. “How’s Brianna?”
“She’s great. Ten years old and a star fourth grader. Plays the piano like Mozart himself.”
“I’d like to hear that. It doesn’t seem possible for so much time to have slipped by. Wasn’t it only yesterday you and I were in school together? I guess a lot of water has gone under and over the bridge since then.”
Pause.
“So . . . you’re married?” Cara asked, desperate to fill the awkward silences creeping into their conversation.
“Yes, I married a wonderful man named Peter Jordon. We met while I was doing graduate work in New York. We married right after I received my masters in journalism. It’s been three years now.”
“I’m so glad for you. Are you living in Topeka?”
“No, we live in Lawrence. It’s halfway between my job here and Peter’s need for the international airport in Kansas City.”
Brianna wriggled out of the covers and took off for her room, obviously no longer threatened by the telephone call. “I’m going to get ready!” she called out.
“Was that Brianna?” Melissa questioned.
“Yes, we’re going to the zoo today. Jack’s name is on one of the new memorial bricks and I promised Bri we’d go see it.” As hard as she’d tried to avoid the subject of Jack, Cara was amazed at how easily he slipped into their conversation.
“Cara, I . . . I hope you won’t think me out of line, but I want to tell you that I felt really bad when Jack died. I felt even worse that I didn’t try to get together with you. . . .” Melissa’s voice faltered, but after a moment she resumed the conversation, fully composed. “The car accident was such a shock. Jack was alive one day and gone the next. I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“That makes two of us,” Cara said softly, but then she added, “Without God I’d have never made it.”
“Your faith must have been pretty strong. I’ve kept track
of what you’ve done with the youth ministry. It’s because of HEARTBEAT and your work with the kids that I’m calling today.”
“Really? Why?”
“I work for
The Capital-Journal,
” Melissa answered, referencing the local newspaper. “I mainly report on the governor’s office and the political scene around the state, but I’ve been given the go-ahead to approach you about a story.”
“What kind of story?” Cara was immediately wary. She’d been interviewed on more than one occasion and had experienced some troubling results.
“Actually, that would depend on you. You see, we’re featuring a special multipage insert on Kansas youth. I talked to the editor about how your work has inspired young people all across the state. I told him we couldn’t possibly do the project without including your various ministries at HEARTBEAT and he agreed.”
“I see.” Cara felt less than enthusiastic.
“You would have final approval over the article and I’d fight anyone who changed a single dot. I want the piece to promote what you do, Cara.” After a breath of hesitation, Melissa continued, “I mean, I feel like I owe it to you . . . to Jack.”
“Why do you owe us anything?” Cara sat up in the bed and tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear.
“I guess I feel like a deserter,” Melissa admitted. “We all used to be so close in school. I thought we would always be friends, and, you know, live forever. . . .”
Cara smiled in bittersweet memory. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean.” They were Hays’ original “brat pack”—or so they thought. Jack, Cara, Melissa, and half a dozen others pledged to be lifelong best friends and nothing would ever tear them apart. At least that was the plan.
“Anyway, since I couldn’t find the courage to spend time with you after Jack’s death, I wanted to somehow make it up by doing a great story on the ministry you both loved so much.”
“It’s not necessary, you know. This call is more than enough.” Cara felt a tender tug for the woman who’d once been her closest friend. “Melissa, I appreciate your honesty more than you’ll ever know. When Jack died, a part of me went with him and I wouldn’t have responded well to you back then.”
As if to clear the air between them, Cara changed the subject. “Do you and Peter have any children?”
Melissa seemed taken off guard. “Ah . . . well . . . no. I can’t have children. I had some physical problems and it resulted in a hysterectomy.”
“I’m sorry,” Cara said, and she truly meant it. Brianna was a critical part of her life, and she couldn’t imagine having to endure the days without her “sunshine.”
“Me too. But maybe one day we’ll adopt. Right now I travel quite a bit with Peter. He works with a New York publishing house that sends him to all corners of the earth. We’ve had a lot of fun we might not have otherwise had with a family.” Her words sounded convincing, but not her voice.
Brianna appeared in the doorway, dancing around with a package of donuts. “I’m gonna have this for breakfast,” she chanted.
Cara rolled her eyes and shook her head, but Brianna didn’t appear to notice. “Look, Melissa, I’m going to have to cut this short, otherwise Brianna’s going to have a bowl of sugar for breakfast. But, tomorrow at five, the local television station is running a short special on HEARTBEAT. Why don’t you watch it, and if you still want to do the interview, come down to my office on Monday.”
“That’ll be great! What time?”
“Say around ten. That way I’ll have time to explain things to Joe Milkhen. He’s my partner at HEARTBEAT.”
“Ten sounds good. Thanks, Cara. This really means a lot to me.”
“I think I understand. I’ll see you Monday.” Cara hung up the phone and threw back her covers. It had been years
since she’d thought about Melissa and the fun times they had shared. Cara smiled. Sometimes memories weren’t so bad.
Two
Heavy blue smoke hung over the conference room like a vaporous noose. Seven pairs of eyes were riveted on the seemingly stoic expression of the eighth man. But Robert J. Kerns was far from stoic. He was fully capable of feeling, and delivering, both pleasure and pain.
