They were beyond Estudillo Corners in Danny’s truck and on the downhill stretch into San Diego before either of them spoke. Not that Jenna was going to breathe a word unless her brother did first.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Jenna stared at him.
“I forget how awful this is for you, having Kevin fighting in that . . . that far-off war.”
She heard the unspoken expletive in his stutter. Despite his love for Kevin, his anger at the situation was always there just beneath the surface.
Danny reached over and touched her injured arm. “And now this. Truce?”
She was too tired to argue with him anymore. “Sure. Okay.”
He flicked on the turn signal. “Mind if we turn off for a few minutes?”
Every nerve in her body screamed in protest. “Yes, I mind! What are you doing?”
The truck slowed. “I need just a minute here.” He turned left onto a side road.
Jenna recognized where he was taking them, and her anxiety jumped another notch. “The lookout? Now?”
“You do know what the date is, right?” He glanced at her. “Or maybe not, considering.”
The date? All she could think of was Amber lying in the hospital. Or the morgue. Or wherever it was they took—
“The fire, Jen. It happened a year ago this week. I have to, I don’t know, have a moment of silence or something.”
Exasperated, she tilted her head back with a thump against the headrest.
“It’s good to remember,” he said.
“It’s one of the worst memories I have. Why would I want to remember?”
“To mark its passing. To thank God for keeping us all safe through it.”
“Oh, Danny! Can’t you do it some other time? I am so worried about Amber.”
He pulled into a parking lot along the side of the road and braked. “I want to do this with you. Dad says he’s coming later. Erik’s bringing Rosie up tonight.”
Jenna looked through the windshield. A panorama of mountains stretched forever toward the east. It was an incredibly gorgeous sight—one she had avoided for an entire year.
The afternoon sun threw the most distant ones into a purple haze; the nearer ones glowed in Technicolor: vegetation greens, blue-grays of rock . . . and black scars beneath it all.
“Oh, Danny,” she said again.
“Come on.” He got out of the truck.
She joined him at the edge of the lookout, at the low stonewall where one year they’d had a family photo taken for Christmas cards. It was a favorite spot of their mother’s.
Jenna linked her good arm with Danny’s and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Mom loved this spot.”
“I think she still does. It was bizarrely appropriate that we gathered here that night.”
She shuddered. The memory sprung upon her, fresher than the one of her mom bringing coffee to her that morning.
That night of the fire, the road up to the hacienda had been blocked off just beyond the lookout. No one had been allowed up to Santa Reina or even Estudillo Corners, the turn for the hacienda. Emergency workers and vehicles had filled the place where they now stood.
Jenna and Kevin had joined Danny, Erik, and their dad. The five of them waited through the cold night, huddled together, inhaling thick smoke, ash collecting in their hair. They flailed about in a no-man’s-space, having not one clue whether their mom, Lexi, Nana, or Papa were dead or alive. A firefighter pretended to update them; in truth he only repeated again and again, “No news. We can’t get in.”
It was such an unbelievable nightmare.
Danny unlaced his arm from hers, draped it around her shoulders, and hugged her tightly.
As he had done that night.
“Thank You, Lord,” he prayed, “for keeping them safe.”
As he had done that night.
She looked at him. “Danny, you prayed those words before we got to them. Before we even knew.”
He nodded.
“It was more than your twin mojo, right?” Through the years he and Lexi had often felt things about each other from a distance. That night he’d sensed that if Lexi were not safe, he would somehow know it.
“Yes.” He smiled. “More than the mojo. It was faith.” She saw a shimmer in his dark eyes.
“How do I get it?”
“You have it, Jen. You know God’s real. You recognize Him in this vista before us. In Nana’s love and wisdom. In your music and literature. The thing that takes practice is recognizing when He speaks to you.”
She didn’t bother to ask how and leaned her head against his shoulder. Danny was a mystery to her, which probably explained why he made her nuts at times.
After a moment he said, “Just now you knew my prayer that night came from something besides my connection with Lexi. That’s how faith is. When you know something in that intangible way, trust it. Go with it. Be open, and God will reveal Himself.”
She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up a knowing, an intuitive sense of something being true.
Her arm hurt. Bottom line, it hurt because the world was messy and unfair. Her heart ached. Same reason. Her husband was too far away. Same reason. She was afraid for Amber. Same reason.
Everything had a reason. She knew nothing by faith.
She felt the soft cotton of Danny’s T-shirt against her cheek and viewed the mountains from an angle. For the moment she was at peace, content to be still in the presence of her goofy brother who for once was still himself.
The two of them at that awful place of remembrance and yet at peace? She couldn’t explain that one away. Did that make it faith?
She highly doubted that conclusion.
Danny braked near the hospital’s front entrance. “You should go home.”
She gathered her bag of clothes and opened the truck door. “Your reluctance is duly noted.”
“I can wait.”
She sighed. They’d already been through the argument of whether he would take her to her car or to the hospital. She would pop, she’d told him, if she didn’t see Amber as soon as possible. Given the fact that her car was still parked by the church, which was way beyond the hospital, he’d finally agreed.
“Danny, don’t wait. I’m sure others will be here by now. She has so many military wives for friends. I’ll get a ride to my car.” She smiled. “That’s what we Marine wives do, you know. We help each other out. We stick together. We semper fi.”
He chuckled. “But have you met any?”
She scrunched her nose at him. “Not yet.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Danny! Go home.” She slid from the car.
“If you need to, take a cab home and I’ll get you to your car later.”
“Good-bye.”
“You don’t look yourself.”
“Do I care?”
“Usually.”
Jenna imagined what he saw. She’d done her best. Thanks to Lexi and Tuyen, she wore a knit black skirt, a long-sleeved sea green top, sandals, and makeup. She really didn’t care. She had work to do. The love of her life was seven thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-one miles away.
“I showered,” she said.
He pointed to his eyes. “You need to recuperate.”
“Go home, Mom.” Jenna slammed the door and walked off, never glancing back.
She entered the hospital. Finding her way to the ICU floor required almost too much effort. The building was a maze. Every staff member she begged directions from asked if she were family because if she weren’t, she may as well forget about going there.
At last she recognized a hall and began eyeing nurses in hopes that Cathy—the helpful one who’d allowed her into Amber’s room—would be on duty again,.
“Jenna.”
At the sound of Cade’s voice, she turned. He approached.
And then, like a sudden clang of cymbals in a symphony, she heard what Danny was saying in all his words about not going to the hospital. He figured there was a chance Cade would be there again.
She had figured the same thing.
Danny was concerned about their connection.
So was she. Now that she saw him.
He smiled easily and stopped before her. “Amber’s the same. Don’t look so frightened. They keep saying ‘same’ is best for now.”
Jenna nodded, her throat too tight for vocalizing.
Not that she really had anything to say.
Mr. Ice Guy was in place. The smile belonged to him, the steady gray eyes. The proper space between them was his doing.
But it didn’t matter. She’d gotten more than a glimpse behind that cold persona. The lips she now watched moving in speech had kissed her.
“It’ll get easier,” he said.
She jumped. “What?”
“Us. It’ll get easier.” He spoke in a low voice. No one else was near them in the hall.
“Huh?”
“Neither one of us wants to go down that road.” He cocked his head.
She nodded, then shook her head. Yes, she agreed. No, neither wanted to go there.
“I came here for two reasons: to check on Amber since they won’t tell you a thing on the phone, and to see you. I didn’t want this to happen at school. There’s nothing between us, all right?”
“Mm-hmm. No.” She looked down at her feet. She needed a pedicure. Those heels she’d worn the other day mussed the polish.
Cade cleared his throat. “Your nurse friend is here.”
Jenna raised her chin and focused beyond his shoulder. “Cathy.”
“Yes. She informed me that you’re family, but I’m not.”
“Is anyone else here?”
“No real family yet. There were some friends, but they’ve gone. You might get in to see her if you want.”
Jenna nodded and moved.
Cade grasped her elbow. “The other way.”
His touch burned her skin. A heat wave engulfed her.
She wanted to fall into his strong arms. She wanted to depend on him. He would take care of everything. Amber’s situation. The hospital staff. Jenna’s classes. A ride to her car or straight home. The loneliness . . .
She knew all those things, knew Cade Edmunds could fill every empty space, calm every anxiety.
Was that faith?
Probably not.
God, help.
Jenna said to him, “Thanks.” She moved away. His hand slipped from her arm. She walked. And kept on walking.
She walked toward the nurses’ station. She would find Cathy. She would sit with Amber and talk to her. She would take a cab to her car and drive herself home. She would fix herself dinner. She would make new friends who were in the same swamped military boat as she. She would wait for Kevin to come home.
All of that she knew was impossible.
Which could mean, perhaps, if Danny was right, that she had just recognized God speaking to her.