Colorado Springs
Thursday, 3:35 p.m.
Julia couldn’t stand it any longer. Despite the warnings to leave the cast in place, she unwrapped the packing and washed her broken hand. She hated the dried blood and faded iodine on the surgical sites. She hated the tight, black stitches and the puffy knuckles.
She hated that she had brought this on herself.
And maybe just for this moment, she wanted to take another swing at God because they were five days into this journey, five days closer to losing Dillon, and still Chloe and Destiny had not agreed to be tested.
Everyone she knew, including Matt, had read Andy’s megaselling book When God Is Not Easy. Their church had done the full-year program with videos and workbooks. Julia had used her frequent travel as an excuse not to participate. Andy’s ministry had brought comfort to so many. If she had told him about the pregnancy twenty-two years ago and let him take Hope, Julia would have blown up the marriage—freeing Andy for herself?
The water softened the scabs and Julia picked at them, drawing blood on her ring finger. Which was worse—an open wound or crust on your soul?
Someone knocked on the door. That must be one of the girls, ready for dinner. Julia wrapped her right hand in a towel and then opened the door.
Matt.
Julia was in his arms without a single heartbeat passing. He held her, gently walked her into the room, and closed the door behind them. She sobbed and laughed and still wouldn’t part her body from his because—for all her stupidity, for all her sins—God had still given her this man. He knew the worst now and he came to her and claimed her love, and poured his into her in a simple embrace.
Let the sun stand still, she prayed, because she couldn’t bear to leave the heat of his body and the strength of his arms.
Thursday, 4:45 p.m.
Hamlin Ministries was headquartered in a two-story building two miles from the Air Force Academy. Julia and Matt waited in the reception area, pretending to drink water that a bright-eyed volunteer had poured for them.
“Are you sure Dillon is all right?” she said.
“Julia, you’ve asked me that five times. At least. Dr. Annie checked him yesterday, Jeanne is with him today. He’s tired, cranky, and he’s . . .”
“. . . he’s sliding away.” Julia clutched his hand. Not long was a steady drumbeat. Matt heard it too. She could tell by the new worry line to the side of his left eye. “Maybe if I make this thing right with Andy, maybe God . . .”
“Shush. You know it doesn’t work like that.”
“I have to believe it does, Matt. Because I have to believe there’s some way to make God relent and heal him.”
“The girls.”
“I’ve ruined Chloe’s life.”
“Ah, I see Destiny has given you a lesson in melodrama.”
Julia shook her head. “If I hadn’t dropped in out of the blue—complete with fun sister and a private jet—Chloe would be in class or at a med school interview and none the wiser. Instead, I gave her the opportunity to leave her husband and the means to seek out this other guy.”
Matt brought her hand to his lips. “She would have found a way. Maybe not with this guy but with someone, somewhere. Imagine if this was ten years down the road and she had children or a busy medical practice, and she felt the pressure on every side with no way out? This thing could be a tremendous opportunity for redemption.”
“I don’t see how. Jack Deschene is . . . hard is not the right word. Upright.”
Matt smiled. “Uptight, I expect you mean. Like the poor bean counter whose heart you stole.”
“No, sir. He’s not like you. He’s like the young ruler in the gospel and Chloe is like his wealth. I don’t think he can bear a blow to his worldview.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker?” An older man with wispy straw hair and watery hazel eyes stared down at them.
Matt stood, offered his hand. “I’m Matt Whittaker. And this is my wife, Julia.”
“I’m Pastor Hamlin’s public liaison, Rick Stanley.” He shook Matt’s hand, reached for Julia’s. She held up the cast, gave him a weak smile. “I understand you requested some time with the pastor.”
Julia couldn’t catch her breath to respond.
“It’s a personal matter,” Matt said. “Between my wife and Mr. Hamlin.”
“I see.” Stanley didn’t even blink.
“If we could speak in private,” Matt said.
“Please,” Julia whispered. “It’s really a situation of life and death.”
“If you need someone to pray with you, we’re always happy to do that.”
“No.” Julia grabbed his arm. “I need to see Andy.”
“He’s not available right now. He travels—”
“Tell me where, then. I’ll go to him.”
“He’s not available to the public at this moment. Much of what the pastor and his wife do requires quiet time, apart from the ministry. I’m sure you understand that, and why I can’t give you that information. Can you help me understand what you need?” Stanley said. “I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Julia, give me your license,” Matt said.
She raised her eyebrows at her husband, did what he asked. He handed it to Rick Stanley. “Take this and show it to Mr. Hamlin or scan it and e-mail it or text it, or whatever it takes for him to lay eyes on my wife’s photo in the next five minutes. As soon as he sees her, trust me—he is going to want to meet with us.”
Stanley stared at them for a long moment. Julia’s pulse raced and her knees wobbled. Finally, the man took her license and said, “Yours too, Mr. Whittaker.”
“Why?” Julia asked. “Why his?”
Matt handed his over. “It’s okay, Julia.”
“No, it’s not. This is between me and Andy.”
Rick Stanley touched her forearm. “Mrs. Whittaker, please understand. Someone in Pastor Hamlin’s position is subject to all sorts of scams and scurrilous claims. Sometimes people come here and they’re horribly unbalanced. We had a man here a couple weeks ago who came with a gun. He’d never met either of the Hamlins, just got it into his head that they were tools of Satan. Before I arrange to let the pastor know that you’re requesting to meet with him, I need to confirm you are who you say. If you’ll agree.”
“It’s okay. Give us whatever we need to sign,” Matt told Stanley. “I’ll give you some people to call who can vouch for who we are. But please, quickly. This is urgent.”
They gave Stanley their cell phone numbers, hotel information, and a list of references to call.
God told Abraham that he would make his descendants as numerous as sand. Julia felt time—and Dillon—slipping away like that same sand. As she and Matt returned to the rental car, she stared at the line of mountains that bordered Colorado Springs to the west. I lift up my eyes to the hills, then slammed her left hand on the hood of the car.
“Too long,” she said. “It’s all taking too long.”
Matt took her hand and pressed her palm to his mouth. “Be patient,” he said. “We’ll keep praying. And no more punching.”
“No.” Julia tore her hand away. “What if we’ve already gotten the answer? What if God is saying no? What if this journey with Destiny and Chloe, this hunting down the men I slept with, what if it’s all chasing after the wind?”
“You can’t call reconnecting with two biological children ‘wind.’ You’ve now laid eyes on the two girls who emerged from your own body . . . given them a glimpse into their own history. That’s a priceless gift, Julia. You think you’re doing this all to ask them for something, but you’ve also given them something very precious in the process. You’ve given them you.”
“Yeah, and I bet they’re wondering where to go to return damaged goods.”
“You’re not damaged goods, Julia. You’re a beautiful broken vessel.”
She forced a laugh. “More like a crackpot chasing old ghosts.”
“No, I mean a broken vessel—the only kind God can use. The Lord is using you, Julia . . . in their lives . . . in Dillon’s life . . . in my life. I can’t imagine my world without you.” He held her close, moving his fingertips up and down her spine to relax her frazzled nerves. “No matter how all of this turns out, we’ve still got each other.”
“But will we still have Dillon? I can’t bear that answer if it’s no.”
“We have him today. As long as he’s still breathing, there’s room for God to move. And He’s done bigger miracles than this. This is small potatoes for Him.”
Julia clung to him, feeling the rise of his chest, praying that her heart would still to his. “But such an immovable mountain for us.”
“Hold on, Julia. Just hold on.”
Thursday, 5:01 p.m.
Mother had booked them in the Broadmoor, a lavish hotel at the foot of the Rockies. Her act of kindness provided another suite for her and Destiny. Was it anger or fear that led her to reserve a separate room for Julia?
Susan Middlebrooks was a caring, giving woman, yet this trip had to be eating at her. And now she was calling to check up on her. Chloe tried to keep her end of the conversation short so she wouldn’t give anything away.
“Jack is concerned,” Mother said. “Please call him. He feels shut out.”
“He wants to know what is going on every minute. It’s tiresome.”
“If he were there with you, he wouldn’t be such a pest.”
“He wants to make sure Mrs. Whittaker isn’t pressuring you. She’s not, is she?”
Images crept through her mind. Julia in the cold motel room, asking over and over—What happened? What did you do? Why did you do it? What can I do to help?
The only pressure Julia exerted was the same Chloe put on herself, and it had nothing to do with a liver for her son.
What—why—help. Please, God, help me.
“No. She’s doing what she promised. Destiny met her birth father and liked him. Now it’s my turn.”
“Can you tell me about him?”
“Not yet, Mother. I promised not to reveal his identity unless he agrees to meet with me. Julia and her husband are there now.”
“I envision some drug addict or someone reckless. Please tell me he’s not been in prison.”
Chloe laughed. “No. Quite the opposite. If this all comes about, I’ll make sure you know everything. Until then . . .”
“Can’t you tell me anything?”
“He’s a man you would know. Someone with a good reputation that you would respect.”
“Not likely,” Mother said. Chloe could hear the discomfort in her voice. It had always been Mother, Father, Chloe—with a place at the figurative family table for someone like Jack.
“People change, Mother. People grow up.”
“Yes. I suppose they do.” And in the tiny catch in Mother’s voice between they and do, Chloe heard fear. Fear that Chloe, too, might change. Father’s unexpected death had stunned both of them. Mother had her charities and vigorous volunteer work, and she projected a serene and gracious public image, even in her grief. At home, she held so tightly to her daughter that Chloe dreaded ever disappointing her.
Jack had become Father’s surrogate—the man who could be trusted and admired. Perhaps that was as weighty a burden for Jack as it had been for Chloe.
“I’ve got to go, Mother. Try to keep Jack in North Carolina. Please.”
“Wait. Can you please tell me why you’ve gone off like this? Is there something your father or I didn’t provide? Maybe there’s something Jack needs to do.”
Make love to me like he means it—like it’s the spiritual experience it should be and not another task on the list.
“No, Mother. Please.”
“What will meeting this man accomplish?”
“I have no idea. Probably nothing.”
“Then just come home. We want you home. And you’re endangering your medical-school admission by delaying these interviews.”
“Mother, I didn’t go looking for this. You know that. But sometimes God drops things in your lap and you’ve got to go with it. I don’t know where this is heading or if it means anything—I just need to let it play out.”
“Don’t agree to anything in regard to this liver thing until you discuss it with either me or Jack. Preferably with both of us.”
“Of course not.” Donating part of her liver was the least of her worries.
Rob Jones. How incredibly stupid she had been to think that they’d had an intellectual and emotional connection. Any reminder of that sordid evening made her want to rip her skin off.
Jack made everything orderly. She, on the other hand, had demonstrated a talent for making everything insurmountable. Like those mountains outside her window.
“Sweetheart, may I pray for you?”
“Heavenly Father, we praise Your name. I thank You for giving me this lovely child, for raising her up to be a lovely woman, a blessing to all who know her. Please shine Your light on Chloe’s path so she will be led into Your will, for Your glory.”
Her mother left a few moments of silence. Chloe could find nothing to add—I flirted, I drank, I danced, dear God, can You ever forgive me?—so she said, “I love you, Mother.”
“I love you, darling. Call Jack,” Mother said and ended the call.
What a comfort it would be to slip back into those little-girl rain boots and let Mother hold her tightly.
What a relief it would be to not have met WaveRunner. Hopefully that foolishness was over and that Hope McCord was buried for good in the blizzard. In the haze that alcohol-soaked evening had been, she must have only imagined him calling her Chloe. The product of a guilty conscience, for sure.
Imagine what it would be like to have no more guilty conscience?
No more lofty expectations. No more of Jack’s blueprints for her life. No birth mothers popping out of nowhere on a Monday morning with a private jet and a desperate request. No sister to make her feel like a puppet on everyone else’s strings.
No deviation from the norm.
If only she could erase these three days and go back to Costco coffee and Duke University degrees and her husband’s plan to shape her so she could help him save the world.
And she saw it in a flash—Jack’s miscalculation of how she could best serve. Excitement made her pulse race. She grabbed her phone, dialed him. “Hey there.”
“Chloe. Hi!”
“Hi.”
“Are you all right?”
Deep breath. No, she wasn’t all right, but she soon would be. “I’m fine. It’s just a tiring trip. Emotionally and everything else.”
“Don’t let them wear you down. Don’t agree to anything without us discussing it.”
“That’s why I called you.”
“You’re not thinking of going through with this donation, are you?”
“Jack, I’m not thinking about that at all.”
“You sure?”
“I’m thinking about us—and how we’ve been talking for years about what we can do to provide help to a suffering world,” she said.
“Glory to God.”
“Of course. And this whole thing about rooting out corruption so private aid and industry will come to poor nations. Jack, I know you’re right. It’s a wanting area in Christian mission work.”
“The concepts are difficult to grasp,” he said, “and they sound worldly.”
Chloe felt excitement building, thought maybe—despite all the terrible things she’d done—maybe God still had a calling for her. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking about. If you’ve got time . . .”
“Of course I have time.” Jack’s tone was eager.
“So third-world countries need medical services. There’s never enough to go around.”
“Why do you think I was so rattled about you missing the UNC interview? That’s one of the best med schools in the nation.”
“Just listen for a minute. Part of any emerging economy—especially one that’s been through a natural disaster—has to include solid infrastructure. Roads and electric grids and clean water.”
“That’s a given. Hard to do, with grants slipping into black holes, contractors providing shoddy materials and shoddier work.”
Chloe smiled. Maybe this would be easier than she anticipated. “We thought I could best serve as a physician . . . but, honey, wouldn’t it be even better if I served at your side?”
“I would love that. You don’t like economics, finance, any of that.”
She laughed and it felt good. “Love you, hate that stuff. Here’s the thing, Jack—I love building things. And I’m really good at fixing things. Think about us working directly together, you helping guide battle-torn or disaster-ravaged areas through the financial morass, and I would work with civil engineers on actually building infrastructure. Isn’t that where corruption is most likely to be rampant? The two need to be a pair. Think about drought-stricken places like West Africa or Kenya. Deep wells would help irrigate crops. And think about Haiti after the earthquake and the desperate need for road rebuilding.”
“Why all this now, Chloe?”
“Because I need to be using the gifts God gave me.”
“You are. You’re a sure thing for getting into med school. The science is all so easy for you.”
“I don’t want to be a physician, Jack. I want to do hands-on engineering.”
“You put that to rest freshman year, didn’t you? Remember how you struggled with Advance Calc? Engineers have to whiz through those types of courses.”
Chloe swallowed her sigh. He had put it to rest, not her. No use slapping him with that now. “I’m four years older. A lot more experienced in handling difficult classes.”
“You’d make such a good physician,” Jack said. “To walk away from that? I don’t see it.”
“Think how many medical missionaries there are, and how few structural engineers.”
“Those are skills that you’re four years behind in learning.”
“Yes, I’ve got ground to make up. If you stay at Duke or go on to Wharton or Sloane for grad school, I can find a good engineering college nearby. I don’t need an MIT degree to make a difference. Just a solid program, maybe a dual civil/mechanical engineering degree.”
“You agreed we were on a good track. Remember?” He sounded as breathless as she felt. “You did agree.”
“I was eighteen years old. I agreed as an excuse for not stepping out in faith to do what God had created me for.”
“So it’s a spiritual argument now? Who is putting these weird ideas in your head?”
“Is that what you think of me, Jack? That I am as malleable as chewing gum?”
“No, darling, no. We want to be clay for the Potter.”
“Just call me Play-Doh and leave it at that. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait, don’t. I’m sorry—I miss you, that’s all. Why don’t I come out there and we can discuss it further? I’ll get on a red-eye out of DC. We can talk about this then, consider our options. Give me a few hours to think this through.”
“Good night, Jack. And don’t even think for one instant about coming here.”
“If we’re going to build anything,” he said, his voice cracking, “it needs to be us.”
Chloe clicked off the call. He dialed back immediately. She let it go to voice mail.
She had allowed Jack to manage the currency of her well-being and purpose instead of personally accepting Jesus’s gift of debt paid, now go and serve as I call you.
It is always easier to let someone else manage the spiritual checking account. If Jack didn’t know her—the essential Chloe, not the constructed one—it was her fault because it was more convenient and painless to go with the holographic image than to let the Savior smash her to bits and rebuild her in His image.
Lovingly. And hands-on.
Chloe fidgeted with her phone. Could you love someone as fervently as Jack claimed to love her and not know them?
Perhaps. Sure. She loved Jesus and yet so often found Him beyond understanding. Did the unknowing make her love any less genuine?
What an excellent question to ask Andrew Hamlin. Assuming he agreed to meet her. Why would he? She’d only bring trouble to his carefully constructed ministry.
Her birth father was a national figure, a respected lecturer and author, a leader in the contemporary evangelical movement. Surely he could help Chloe understand what God required, help her navigate Jack’s objections, and help her forget that a cyber-creep who called himself Rob Jones ever existed.
Good plan. Even Jack would agree.
And then her phone rang and her good plan went up in a blaze.
Thursday, 5:24 p.m.
Destiny’s phone wouldn’t stop binging and buzzing and chiming.
Her sister Sophie texted her:
SC: Is it tru U have 3 new sibs?
DC: Tr. No worries, sis. UR the fav.
SC: Swear?
DC: On a stack of pancakes.
SC: :)
Her phone rang. “Hey.” She recognized Tom’s voice in a split second.
“Hey back-at-cha.”
“Did you make it through the blizzard okay?”
Kicked in the head. Almost poisoned by carbon monoxide. Hypothermia. A foot closer and she might have been decapitated by that sign that crashed through the windshield.
“Just peachy,” she said. “And you?”
“The girls went nuts in the snow. Building forts and sliding down the hill at the side of our house. So I guess it was worth losing power for a few days.”
“Bummer. I missed all the fun,” Destiny said.
“Maybe not. The girls are bugging me to take them to Disneyland in February. Would it be the worst thing in the world if we took you out to eat one night while we’re in LA? We don’t want to impose. Though Natalie wants me to tell you if you happen to know Justin Bieber . . .”
Destiny laughed. “Is Jenny coming?”
“Would that be okay?”
“Absolutely. Do you do roller coasters?”
“What do you think?” Tom said.
“Hah. I guess I know. Bet my stomach can outlast yours.”
“It’s on, child. It is so on.”
She and Tom chatted for a couple more minutes. Jenny came on, spoke with her for a while, and that was that. It was easy to see how this was going to work out. See each other occasionally, otherwise let three thousand miles keep them out of each other’s business.
While she was on the line with Tom, an e-mail from her father—the real one—came in from Washington, DC.
Mom says you are on quite the adventure. Can we talk this weekend? Love, Dad
Talk about a three-thousand-mile relationship. Then again, she and her father had communicated more easily once she’d left the household. She blamed him for always being in DC. He didn’t blame her for anything except making her mother crazy. She had, and apologized to both after Luke finally called her out on it.
Luke. No call or text today. Not that she had any right to know where he was every second. They used to sync their calendars so neither would have to bug the other. They worked odd hours, different projects, and varied locales. It was convenient—and yes, nice—to at least know where the other one was.
Her calendar was empty since Saturday’s wrap. He was scouting locations for one of those gritty cop dramas.
The phone rang. Whittaker. Not Julia’s number. Her husband, perhaps? He had arrived unexpectedly in Colorado to face Saint Andy with her. Maybe he needed something.
“Yes?”
“Hey, Destiny.” A scratchy, adolescent voice.
No. Good grief, don’t make me do this.
“Destiny. You there?”
“Yeah. How did you get this number?”
“My father left a cheat sheet for Pottsie.”
“Pottsie who?”
“My godmother. Weird name, right? She’s hanging with me while Dad is up there with you guys. Did you meet him?”
“No, not yet.”
“Don’t let the bald head fool you. He’s pretty cool. Anyway, he wanted to make sure Auntie P. knew who to call in case of the zombie apocalypse.”
“Considerate of him. Shouldn’t you be in bed or something equally responsible?”
The long pause made her want to bite her tongue. He probably was in bed, day and night.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m cool.”
“So, what’s up? You prowling for another blizzard?”
He laughed. “I know how to use weather.com. It’s thirty degrees and dry in Colorado Springs.”
“So what’s up?”
Dillon cleared his throat. “Nothing.”
“Just like the sound of my voice, huh?”
He laughed. “Better than talking to myself. My voice sounds like a wet cat.”
“You’ll grow into it. Give it a couple ye—”
Dear God, do You hear this? He doesn’t have a couple of years. He may not even have a couple of weeks.
Destiny wanted to slap herself. For someone who threw Luke—and God—out of her house and out of her life, she sure was praying a lot.
“So here’s why I called. When I’m in film school”—he cleared his throat—“would you be willing to take me on as an intern?”
Oh God oh God oh God, don’t do this to me!
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said.
“No, it sounds like a great idea. Maybe, like, when you’re feeling better, you can come out here for a week and do a school project. I’ll help you make a couple creatures. Maybe get us into a green room so we can do some computer stuff. You’re taking art?”
“I’m not taking much of anything right now.”
“I’m sorry, man. That stinks.”
“Yeah. Hey, don’t you think it’s cool?”
“What? What’s cool?” Destiny bit the inside of her cheek. She could not let him hear her cry. She could not let him make her cry.
“I never wanted to go into the wedding business. Come on, a guy doing the bride thing? My dad’s like a martyr, doing that stuff. My parents have their gig and I have mine. I figure it’s got to be a God thing.”
“What does?”
“Us. You and me. You’re doing what I want to do. Now I have someone in the family, someone I can trust to help me learn. So thanks.”
“Anytime, pal. Anytime.”
They ended the call. Destiny went to her bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Tick tock. Time is running out. She would either have to cut out of this caravan or get tested. And if she got tested, and was a match, she would have to do it.
She liked Dillon too much not to.
Thursday, 5:55 p.m.
This is the longest walk of my life.
Matt held her hand as they followed Rick Stanley down the hall. The steps from the reception area to the conference room where Andy waited seemed endless.
She thought about the long walk in Boston, searching for a place to put Tom, and that past, to rest. Finally driving to Nahant, the long hike to the rocks. The waves washing away the chalk.
Jesus. Cleansing. Redeeming.
Tom would never replace Destiny’s father but he would add to her life, and she would add to his life and his family’s. Boston was good, but this dark hall and the march to face her past could only lead to pain.
Julia had left Andy and Katie in the dark all these years. Clinging to baby Hope as her treasure—her secret—and not giving him the chance to claim her.
Not giving Katie the chance to forgive her husband. Did she even know? Surely Andy told her, given they’d gone on to the kind of speaking ministry they enjoyed. They had expanded Andy’s first book, When God Is Not Easy, to a variety of life circumstances.
They passed one office after another, windows showing dark night outside. Rick Stanley opened a door and motioned for Julia and Matt to go in.
She saw Kathleen Hamlin first, though Andy’s physical presence seemed to fill the room. Both were composed, body language loose and inviting. How many people did they receive in a day, listening to stories, counseling with grace, the personal touch of a man and his wife who had a vibrant—and very public—ministry.
She and Matt could leave right now, leave these people with the life that they had built. Send Chloe home to North Carolina, tell her to put that awful thing with Rob Jones behind her and just live the life that God had set before her.
If Julia chickened out, Destiny would freak, neither girl would get tested, and Dillon would lose the best hope they had for his recovery.
Julia shook Katie’s hand and then Andy’s—his palm sweaty—as Matt introduced himself and her.
“Of course! I remember you,” Andy said. “We worked together at IronWorks. Reverend Paul and his people are still going strong up there, praise the Lord.”
“You’re the gal whose place I took,” Katie said. “You had some emergency and had to leave. I was a poor substitute for you but I did my best.”
Oh, dear Father, Julia prayed. Does she really have no idea about what I’m about to say?
“What can I do for you?” Andy said.
“We were hoping to see you alone,” Matt said. “Perhaps if you would excuse us, Mrs. Hamlin . . . ?”
Katie stared at Matt, then turned to her husband. “What is this about?”
A tremor passed between Julia’s shoulder blades, as if her very center could not hold. “Please, if I could just speak to Andy for a couple of minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’m sorry,” Andy said. “We never do that. I’m sure you understand why.”
“You might consider making an exception,” Matt said.
“If that isn’t acceptable to you,” Katie said, “we’ll wish you well and send you on your way.”
“You don’t understand,” Julia said, catching Andy’s eye. He hadn’t told her. All these years and Katie never knew.
“Sweetheart . . .” Andy put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, tried to turn her toward the door.
She shook him off. “No. If some . . . accusation . . . is going to be made, I need to be here.”
“Could we sit down?” Matt said. “It might be better that way.”
Julia could see the guilt in Andy’s eyes now, coming to the surface as if wrenched free from a deep mooring. Perhaps he had persuaded himself that it had never happened. Time could do that. Or perhaps—Destiny might say—the man was a serial scumbag and thought he’d never be caught.
“You’re from Dallas,” Katie said, forcing a smile. “One of our favorite places to visit.”
“Andy, tell her,” Julia said.
“Pardon me?” Katie turned in her seat, looked at her husband. “Tell me what?”
Andy stood and simply said, “Why now?”
Julia couldn’t take her gaze off Katie. These were the last few seconds before they blew that poor woman’s world apart. God, forgive me—have mercy on her.
“Because our son is dying,” Matt said. “That is why now.”
“I’m sorry,” Andy said. “That’s terrible. I’m not sure I follow what that has to do with us?”
Matt tightened his arm around her shoulder. “Julia. This is your story.”
She could still get up and walk away, knowing Matt would not tell the Hamlins because it was her hidden shame, her past to hold on to or to let go of. Shame off you, Julia and she knew that was true, just as she knew that the consequences remained.
“Please,” Julia said. “Please, don’t make me say it.”
Katie turned her gaze on Julia. “What is going on here?”
“That summer,” Andy said. “Before you came home from Uganda, I was missing you, and that missing became loneliness . . .”
His wife jerked back, her chair scraping the floor. “What are you saying?”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I have been faithful since . . .”
“Since you slept with her? Is that what you’re saying?”
“We were young. And you were gone and I . . . I forgot who I was. Who you and I were. When I realized how selfish I was, the sin I was wallowing in—”
“Now wait just one minute,” Matt said, rising to his feet. “You didn’t wallow in my wife. You seduced her.”
Katie leaned forward as if she needed the table to catch her. A flush rose up her throat. “Is that true, Mrs. Whittaker?”
Julia resisted the urge to jump to her feet and run from the room. What a terrible revelation for Andy’s wife. “He told me you were finishing up a divorce—”
“He said that? Andrew, how could you?”
Andy hung his head, tears falling into his lap. “I am so sorry.”
“Why now?” Katie clutched her throat. “Why come in here and vomit this up now? Do you want money? That’s it, isn’t it? You want money.”
“Mrs. Hamlin, that’s not what we want,” Matt said. “Nor do we want to hurt you. We know this is hard for you.”
“Hard? HARD!” Katie pressed her hands to her ears. “Do you think hard describes what it’s like to have your heart ripped out of you?”
“Why do this now?” Andy said through clenched teeth.
“There are circumstances. Things that need to be addressed.” Matt squeezed Julia’s hand, whispered, “Tell them.”
“Andy, I am so sorry,” Julia said. “We have a daughter.”
Katie gasped.
Andy sat down, hard. “And you never told me, Julia?”
“I thought it was for the best just to deal with it by myself. That I should remove myself—and the child—from the situation so you could move forward with your wife.”
He glanced at Matt. “You raised my child?”
“No,” Matt said. “Julia gave her up for adoption.”
“Hold on here. Just stop for a minute. Please, everyone, just shut up for one moment.” Katie dug her fingers into her hair as if to keep her head together. “Let me understand this. Andrew had an affair with you, Julia. You got pregnant and never told him.”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping with a married man is bad enough. But you surrendered Andrew’s child,” Katie said, “without him having any say in it. That’s unfathomable. How could you be so cold?”
Andy covered his face, his shoulders lifting as if trying to bring in air. Julia’s chest constricted. Dear Father, if I am having a heart attack, take me instead of Dillon.
“Breathe,” Matt whispered, and as if she heard him, Katie took a deep breath. Andy was white-faced, his big hands trembling. Julia remembered Tom’s embrace and how everything was forgiven in an instant. If she embraced Andy in this moment, he would kill her.
“Tell me,” he said.
Matt gave him the facts of Hope’s birth and now Chloe’s life, stopping short of Dillon because the Hamlins seemed on the brink of collapse. Katie shrank into herself, arms tight around her chest.
“I’m so sorry,” Julia said.
Andy glanced up at her. “You had no right.”
“I did what I thought was best for the baby. And for you and Katie.”
“And yourself,” Katie said. “You did what was best for yourself.”
“I did what I could bear,” Julia said.
“This is unbearable,” Andy said. “After all these years.”
“Chloe was raised in a Christian home,” Julia said. “You would be proud.”
Katie began to sob, heavy gasps punctuated with a keening cry. Andy reached for her and she shoved him away.
“We’ll step outside for a couple of minutes,” Matt said. “Give you a little space to process this.”
“No! No one is going anywhere.” Katie pointed at Julia. “Let her witness my grief.”
Matt glanced at Julia. She closed her eyes and nodded.
Andy tried again to hold his wife. She held up her hand to keep him away. “You too, Andrew. This is on you too.”
Julia and Matt watched while Kathleen Hamlin grieved so deeply that her soul seemed to turn inside out.
Andy Hamlin paced the room, turning frequently toward the window. As he stared out into the black night, he stroked his jaw hard as if trying to smooth away what had been revealed.
Katie finally allowed Andy to put his trembling hand on her shoulder. He started to say something but she shushed him. “No, Andrew. I’m not ready to hear anything from you right now.”
She turned to Matt and Julia and said, “Now. What’s this about a dying son?”
Thursday, 5:55 p.m.
The walk across the sitting room to Destiny’s bedroom was the longest of Chloe’s life. Destiny stood at the window, staring out at the mountains.
Chloe shoved the phone at her. “Help me.”
“No.” Her sister waved her away. “I’m not talking to Jack. Not again.”
“Please. Read the text.”
Destiny squinted as if trying to rearrange the letters on the screen. Impossible. Chloe had been trying to do the same thing since the text came in. She squeezed her eyes shut and still she saw the words as if they had been burned into her eyelids.
Chloe—call this # by 9 P or my next call will be 2 Jack. XXOOXX Rob J
“He knows who you are? That’s bad.”
“I don’t know how. I don’t know . . . I feel faint . . .”
“Shush.” Destiny shoved her into a chair, pushed her head to her knees. “Breathe.”
“I can’t call him. How can I call him?”
“You can, and you’d better.”
“Julia will be back before then. She’ll know what to do.”
Destiny kneeled down next to her. “Look at me.”
Chloe stared at her. Same eyes, same flesh and blood, but Destiny would never have been this stupid.
“He doesn’t know we’re in Colorado,” Destiny said. “Right?”
“Unless I let it slip . . . I don’t know what I did. Oh, God, forgive me.”
“Yeah, okay. The point is that he’s on Eastern time. Which means you’ve got to call him in the next hour or so.”
“I can’t. How can I?”
“Fine.” Destiny stood up, made a show of brushing her away. “Let Jack handle it. That’s your modus operandi, isn’t it? Let Jack tell you where to go, what to wear. Whom to love.”
Jack is my infrastructure. And Chloe was the corruption, about to make both of them collapse.
“You do it for me.”
“No.” Destiny handed her the phone. “I’ll be right here. Go on, you can do it.”
Chloe took the phone, punched in the numbers, and held her breath. Rob Jones answered, his voice silky. “Hey! What’s up, Chloe?”
“My name is Hope.”
Destiny rolled her eyes.
“I know who you are, Chloe Middlebrooks Deschene,” he said.
“What did you do to me?”
“Only what you wanted me to do. We had such a fun evening together. So much fun, I had to run some film.”
“That’s . . .” Chloe rubbed her chest to stop her heart from pounding. “That’s illegal.”
“You agreed to it. It’s right on the film.”
Her knees wobbled. She sunk into the chair.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to anything like that,” she said. “You did something to me.”
Chloe couldn’t prove anything except that she drank so much, anything that happened after that—including some version of a date-rape drug—was a sink hole, about to drag her all the way down.
“Ask him what he wants,” Destiny whispered.
“What do you want?”
“Some media outlet might pay good money for this movie we made. But I thought you should have first shot at it. Being you’re the star and all. Open-market price should be about a hundred K. For a girl with feet in the Middlebrooks and Deschene money, I figure five hundred K would be a good figure.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Sweet cheeks, I’ve known who you are from the second time we met online. And I sure as blazes know your net worth.”
“How did you know who I was?”
“I make it my business to know. Usually my ‘dates’ are worth a couple thousand. But you . . . hmm, baby. Nice of you to fall into my lap like you did.”
“The ship. The fishing thing . . . ?”
He laughed. “Talk about an easy hook to bait. I worked you like a psychic works her marks. Ask a broad question, hone in on any positive responses. Easier even because I could google as we chatted, learn enough terms to nail you. Most of the time I was just reframing your responses and spitting them back at you. Keeping you online long enough to get everything I needed to know about you.”
Destiny wrapped her hand over the phone. “What does he want?”
“Money,” Chloe said, tears running down her cheeks. “Half a million.”
“Tell him he can go—you know. Tell him that.”
“Chloe? The longer you wait, the hotter the film,” Rob said.
“Hold on. Give me a minute.” She handed the phone to Destiny, ran into the bathroom and gagged, wanting the filth gone, wanting herself gone. Destiny wrapped her arms around her, dabbing her face with a washcloth. “Come on. Finish up the call and we’ll figure it out together. Come on, girl.”
Chloe took the phone. “Rob.”
“Sexy name, eh, baby? Fun to play fantasyland.”
“I . . .” Deep breath. “I need to see what I’m buying. And then we’ll talk terms.”
“Exactly what I’d planned. Hang up, take a look. And let’s reconvene in ten minutes.”
“No. No one keeps that much money in liquid assets. I need . . . a day or so to see what I’ve got.”
“Can’t promise I’ll hold it that long. The tabloids and smut shows are always looking for blockbuster news. And that rich husband of yours probably carries that much in pocket change. Maybe I’ll focus-group a minute or so on YouTube while I’m waiting for you to tell me when and where to pick up my money.”
“This has got to be illegal. Extortion or blackmail or something.”
“No, baby. It’s a brand-new world, and this is just a sale to the highest bidder.”
“Send it and I’ll get back to you.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll get back to you. Sweet dreams, baby.”
He clicked off. Chloe leaned over the sink, washed her mouth with water. The taste of his kisses lingered like a decaying animal. She smeared Destiny’s toothpaste over her teeth, gargled, and spit.
“What now?” Destiny asked.
The phone pinged.
“Do you want me to leave while you view it?”
“No. You know . . . you’ve seen the worst of me. Too late now to pretend anything else.” Chloe linked her arm through her sister’s, held tight, and tapped the link.
The first few seconds was a scan of the motel room, catching one item of clothing at a time. Boots, coat, slacks, and sweater. Black bra. Chloe gasped and Destiny held her tighter. Underpants. She had worn the black lacy ones that Jack thought were frivolous.
“He knows how to set a scene,” Destiny said. The camera scanned the bed. Hand, arm, hair flung over a pillow.
“Chloe.” Rob’s voice was off-screen.
“Hmm,” the video-Chloe said, slowly opening her eyes.
“You want to dance, right?”
“I dunno. No one lets me.”
Music came on—something almost like a salsa—and the camera caught Chloe’s naked back as she sat up.
“Show me,” Rob Jones said.
Chloe staggered to her feet and then turned full-frontal to the camera.
“God forgive me,” Chloe whispered.
“Amen,” Destiny said.
The video showed ten minutes of her drunken, drugged dancing. Whatever Rob suggested she do, Chloe had done. Finally, there was a banging off-screen.
“That’s me,” Destiny said. “Knocking.”
The video went black.
“Well?” Chloe said. “What do you think of me now?”
“I think you’ve got some really good moves,” Destiny said.
Chloe laughed and then sobbed because no one—especially Jack—could forgive this. She’d have to find some way to bury that video forever.
But first. First, she had to remember how to breathe.
“You wanted to punish me,” Andy said. “That’s why you didn’t tell me.”
“What would it have gained me?” Julia said. “Except maybe a custody battle—and I couldn’t bear that.”
Andy tried to take Katie’s hand. She slapped his away. “I can’t even bear to look at you, Andrew. The only reason I’m still in this room is because of your daughter. And the Whittakers’ son.”
“That summer,” he said, “was the only time in our twentyfive years. I swear, Katie. I saw a situation and took advantage. I thought . . .” He rubbed his face hard enough to leave streaks in his fair skin. “I thought no one would know, that she and I would never see each other again.”
“Not me,” Julia said. “I thought we were going to get married.”
“Did I ever say that?”
“A guy doesn’t have to say it,” Matt said, “for a woman to believe that. To count on that.”
“He didn’t ask you, Mr. Whittaker,” Katie said.
“Don’t talk to my husband like that,” Julia said.
“After what you did to my husband? I don’t think you have any right to tell me what I can or cannot do.”
Andy made a fist, pounded it into his hand. “I didn’t know how vulnerable you were. You didn’t tell me about your first pregnancy. I thought you were just a college student, looking to do good and willing to . . . do what we did.”
“Have sex. Are you afraid to say it?” Julia said. “I thought we were making love, but for you, it was just a little summer fun.”
“And you were just a spectator?” Katie said.
Matt slapped the table. “I’ll ask you not to talk to my wife that way.”
Andy covered Matt’s hand with his own. “Maybe we should take a moment to ask for God’s guidance here.”
Slowly—so slowly—Katie extended her hand across the table to Julia. Julia took it. How cold. The poor woman.
Matt cradled Julia’s broken hand in his lap.
“God, have mercy,” Andy said. He prayed in a soft tone, invoking the Lord’s promises of peace and wisdom and asking that whatever was going on in this room be to God’s glory.
Only You can make that so, Julia prayed.
“Thank you,” Matt said after the final amen.
“What do you need?” Andy asked.
“What does Hope need?” Katie said, covering his hand with hers.
“She wants to meet her birth father,” Julia said. “And she’s scared. She’s used to a well-ordered life. This is as messy for her as it is for us.”
“This doesn’t sound like something we should rush into,” Katie said.
“They need Chloe to decide on the donation,” Andy said. “So it’s got to be quick.”
“You’re asking a lot from people you don’t know,” Katie said.
“What choice do I have when God has made finding a liver for my son so blindingly difficult?”
“Hold on. Just hold on.” Matt wrapped his arm around her neck and drew her close. “I want to assure you that no one has any desire to make this public. Mr. Hamlin—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, call me Andrew. We’re almost in-laws or something like that. Assuming paternity is proved.”
“If we need to,” Matt said, “we’ll post a bond or something to prove our word. A DNA test—I’m sorry, but that would take too long.”
“I need to see her,” Katie said. “You have a photo?”
Julia fumbled with her phone. Matt took it from her, scrolled until he found the photo she had taken when they arrived in Boston. “The dark-haired one is the eldest daughter. Chloe is the one with blond highlights and no piercings.”
Andy and Katie leaned over the photo together. They studied it for a long time. “She’s got your eyes,” Katie said, glancing up at Julia. “Otherwise, she looks like her brothers.”
“You have kids?”
“We don’t talk about them in the ministry. We have three sons,” Andy said. “They’ve got the same hair, same jaw line. I can’t believe this.”
“They have a sister . . . ,” Katie said. “Whatever will they think?”
“This doesn’t need to go beyond this room,” Julia said. “If it weren’t for Dillon, I would have kept this to myself.”
Andy stared at her. “And compound the loss?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Okay, the apologies are getting tiresome,” Katie said. “Let’s ask God to show us the next step, shall we?”
They prayed for a long time, some aloud, much in silence. Letting mercy rain and wash away everything but God’s grace.
Thursday, 7:30 p.m.
Destiny tried everything to calm Chloe’s hysteria. A long hug, rubbing her back. Stern words. Tender words. Walking her outside in the brisk air. Back in the suite, making her drink a nip of brandy from the mini-bar.
Rob Jones had titled his little production Heiress Unplugged and set it to a suggestive song that had been a popular hit a couple years ago. The creep should have titled it Heiress Unhinged. Because that’s what Chloe was now.
If this had happened to a Hollywood starlet, the press would be all over her. She’d end up on David Letterman, leaking some tears and making some jokes, and she’d become a pathetic victim. It would probably boost her career.
A rich girl—and a Christian—was another story. The press would have a feeding frenzy, going after her family and her faith. Any opportunity to show evangelicals as hypocrites was like crack cocaine to the media. It would actually be to Rob Jones’s benefit for that to happen. He’d probably get a six-figure book deal out of it.
Chloe lay facedown on the bed, shoulders heaving. The girl remained inconsolable.
She has a point. What a massive mess this was. Not that Destiny hadn’t seen something like this coming. No one brings a camcorder into a cheap motel room with a drunk—and probably drugged—girl without something nasty in mind.
It probably would have been better if Chloe had actually made a sex tape with this creep. Then they’d at least have Rob’s face on camera.
“Get up,” Destiny said, shaking Chloe’s shoulder.
She burrowed deeper into the down comforter. Destiny grabbed her sister’s shoulders and twisted her around until Chloe had no choice but to sit up.
“I can’t,” she said.
“I haven’t asked you to do anything,” Destiny said. “Just . . . stick with me. Okay?”
Chloe nodded. Her face was an unholy mess. Destiny grabbed her brush. She sat on the bed behind Chloe and slowly drew the brush through her hair.
“What are you doing?” Chloe said.
“Shush. Just shush.” Out of options, Destiny reverted to the tactic her mother had used to calm her. She brushed and brushed, and wished Luke were here because he would know in an instant what would take her an hour to reason through.
After a long minute, Chloe stopped those horrible noises in her chest and throat. She still breathed raggedly and swiped away tears.
“Funny how your hair feels like mine—the texture and thickness. You have the same curls at the nape of your neck.”
“I suppose.”
“You got our very dark eyes. These blond streaks are natural, aren’t they?”
“I suppo—yeah.”
“Andrew Hamlin is fair-haired. I googled him.”
“Oh,” Chloe said and collapsed into another string of sobs. “If this gets out, I’ll ruin his life too.”
Destiny lightly tapped her with the hairbrush. “Enough. Surely you’ve learned by now you gain nothing by freaking out.”
Chloe pulled away from her. “And surely you’ve learned by now you gain nothing by running away.”
“I gained a second father.”
“And you gave up on Luke.”
“Shut up,” Destiny said. “You have no right to lecture me about Luke.”
They stared at each other for a moment. And then Chloe burst out with a single snort that sounded like a laugh. “I guess we just had our first fight.”
Destiny smiled. “And we survived. So let’s figure out what we’re going to do.”
“How did you do it?” Chloe said. “Get out on your own. How did you have the . . . guts . . . to walk away from college and go all the way to California?”
“It wasn’t guts,” Destiny said. “It was pretty much foolishness. And it wasn’t all good. I got a job quickly, for sure. But I got in with some bad people, did some nasty drugs, and was on the edge when I met Luke. He was coming off the edge—onto the good side—and he kind of walked me through it. Even when I was being an A-1 jerk.”
“Don’t give up on him, then.”
“He gave up on me. Wanted more, found God. Amen and the end.”
“No. Let it be a beginning.”
“You’re giving me advice?” Destiny rested her chin on the top of Chloe’s head. So alike, yet so different.
“I could just disappear. Like you did.”
“I didn’t disappear. I felt like it, but my parents—somehow—always knew where I was. And when I needed something, they made sure it was available. Including rehab.”
“I can’t bear the thought of Mother knowing what I’ve done.” Chloe pressed her hands to her temples.
Destiny pulled her hands away and said, “I have an idea.”
Thursday, 8:05 p.m.
“I wish I could stay,” Matt said as Julia drove him to the airport.
“And I’m glad you’re going back to Dillon.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
She parked a little way from the drop-off area. “Not until I know you’re home. You?”
“I’ll be okay when you’ve worked this through with Chloe. And then they’ll get tested?”
“Both girls promised. If I can get them to agree to fly to Dallas and have it done there, I will. But I’m not expecting that.”
“Why?” Matt said.
Julia twisted in her seat so she could touch his cheek with her good hand. “Because they must know that if they meet Dillon, they won’t be able to say no.”
Matt leaned to her, his lips almost brushing hers. “This can’t go on forever. We need you home.”
“I know that, Mattie. You think I don’t know that every second of every one of these days? Each breath I take, I think, Is this Dillon’s last breath?”
“He’s stable,” Matt said. “That’s a miracle in itself. But . . .”
“We need a bigger miracle. I know.”
“Is either one of those girls inclined to be that miracle?”
Julia pressed her lips to his ear. “I don’t know. If only they knew him.”
“They know you, Julia. So we keep on hoping. Promise me you’ll hold on to hope.”
“What if it’s a no from God?”
“We’ll get our boy through it, even if it means we’re . . .” Matt pressed his face to her cheeks to wipe away his tears. “. . . if it means we’re preparing him to go home. But we aren’t there yet. So we hold on to hope.”
Julia wrapped both arms around his neck. “You hold on to hope, Matt. And I’ll hold on to you.”
Thursday, 8:15 p.m.
Destiny scrolled through numbers on her phone until she found the one she wanted. Two-hour difference between Colorado Springs and Boston. Too bad.
After eight rings, the phone went to voice mail. She hung up and dialed again. This time Tom answered. “Destiny?”
“I need your help.”
“Are you all right? Julia’s son—what?”
Destiny heard Jenny’s voice in the background and Tom telling her he’d be back in a minute.
“Okay, I’m awake,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Some guy is blackmailing Chloe. Julia’s other daughter.”
“What did she do?”
“Nothing illegal. Something incredibly stupid.” Destiny looked at Chloe, mouthed, Can I tell him?
She shook her head violently. Destiny put her palm against her sister’s cheek, made her stop before the girl rattled her brains away. “Let me tell him.”
Chloe gave the smallest nod. Destiny launched into the story as she understood it.
“I wasn’t bored,” Chloe said as the only correction she made to Destiny’s account. “I was selfish.”
“Whatever,” Destiny said. “Tom. What do we do?”
“Put me on speaker,” he said.
Destiny did and set the phone between them.
“Chloe,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet in Boston.”
“Me too,” Chloe said. “Maybe I wouldn’t have messed up like this if we had.”
“Welcome to the human race,” he said.
“I didn’t know how stupid I could be.”
“Tell that to Adam and Eve,” Destiny said. “Now let the man talk.”
“So you know nothing about this guy?” Tom said.
“I thought I knew everything.”
“Real name? Where he lives, what he does for a living?”
“He must live up north of Boston because he knew where to set up our meeting and that the motel was just a block away.”
“He could have figured that out from MapQuest,” Destiny said.
“But given the blizzard conditions, he couldn’t have gone back to wherever he came from,” Chloe said. “So maybe him having a buddy near the motel was true.”
“So you ask around up there?” Destiny said.
“Honey,” Tom said, “do you really think he told the truth?”
“He sounded like he knew what he was talking about,” Chloe said. “When he talked about the boat and all that.”
“To create this persona, he only had to watch Deadly Catch or Wicked Tuna and know enough about engineering to keep a conversation going. He’s probably more predator hacker than sailor.”
“Will that help?”
Tom laughed. “You know that saying more fish in the sea? Substitute ‘computer nerds’ and ‘Massachusetts,’ and you see the issue. You said you didn’t have a photo, Chloe?”
Chloe shook her head. Destiny poked her, pointed at the phone. “No,” she said.
“What about a car? Did you see his car?”
“No, he walked me to the motel.”
“Why didn’t he drive?” Destiny said. “Your rental was right out front.”
“Chloe may be right on that,” Tom said. “Maybe he is familiar enough with Gloucester to walk around and know where he’s going. Some of those streets are narrow and you have to fight for parking. Maybe he does live there. Though, if he’s a serial predator, he’s not likely to do his dirty work in his own neighborhood.
“I have to tell you some hard truth here,” Tom said. “The best way to beat blackmail is this: he can’t extort you if you have nothing to hide.”
“I have everything to hide.”
“From whom?”
“My husband, my mother—all her friends and her charities. Our church family, some of the missions we support. My horrible behavior and my humiliation would all reflect on them.”
“‘He was despised and rejected by men . . . ,’” Destiny said.
“Are you kidding me?” Chloe raised her eyebrows. “You’re quoting Isaiah?”
“Hey, I never said I didn’t know the Bible. Just said it trips me up a lot. So take the hit. If these really are your people, they’ll help you get through it.”
“Your sister is right,” Tom said. “You can’t undo this. You can’t give into it. You go through it, trust the people who know you, and find something good out of it.”
“They don’t know me,” Chloe said. “They know the person I try to be.”
“Stop putting it on them,” Destiny said. “You play poor me as if you had nothing to do with who you are, or what you’ve done, or what you could be doing. It’s easier to be their dress-up doll and then whine about it. Well, those clothes are off now, so isn’t it about time to be owning up to the bad? And the good?”
“You have a lot of nerve.”
“I do. And I’m a pain in the backside, but at least no one weeds me like a garden and mulches me to make me grow. You like the attention, like not having to take responsibility.”
“And you like to complain,” Chloe said, her voice rising.
Destiny laughed. “Yes, there is that.”
“Ladies,” Tom said, “back to the subject at hand.”
“Mr. Bryant, can’t we have him arrested?”
“We need grounds. Did you get a drug test so we can claim a dating assault?”
“No. The blizzard . . .”
Destiny groaned. Julia had begged for an ambulance, and she had said no. “That’s on me. I wish we had.”
“So what you’ve got is an embarrassing tape that he’s going to claim was consensual. And if you say he’s blackmailing you, he’ll deny it and just find some magazine or television outlet to air it.”
“God, help me.” Chloe rocked back and forth. “God, help me.”
Please, I know I’m a pain but please, show Yourself here, God. She tried to pull Chloe into a hug, but her sister resisted, catching her on the side of her head.
“Ouch.” The pain shot through Destiny’s jaw and down her neck. “Watch it.”
“Are you okay?” Tom said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said.
“Shut up with the apologies. You sound like Julia,” Destiny said. “Nothing, Tom. She caught me where . . .”
And then, out of nowhere, or perhaps out of the divine, she realized what they could do.
“Tom, we can’t have him arrested for what he did to Chloe if we can’t prove she was drugged or that she didn’t consent to the filming. But what if he committed another crime?”
“I don’t understand.”
“We have to Skype this.” Destiny ended the call, clicked onto Skype. She waited, smiled when Tom answered and she could see his face. His hair was a mess and he needed a shave, and the worry in his eyes was unmistakable.
“What am I looking at?” he said.
“This.” Destiny pulled back her hair and showed the dark bruise under her ear that stretched along her jaw. “That jerk kicked me in the head. He also knocked Julia down. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the bruises to show for it.”
“Whoa. Are you all right?”
“I’m in love with a stuntman. I know how to take a punch.”
Tom smiled. “Turn the phone so I can see Chloe.”
Destiny did and brushed back Chloe’s hair so Tom could see her face. “Hi,” she said weakly.
“Honey,” he said, “we’ve got him on assault. Make sure you get a picture of Destiny looking like that.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”
“But let me tell you something. I waited a year before I told my wife about Julia and the child we had given up. It was the secondworst year of my life.”
“Second?”
“The first was walking away from Julia and Destiny. A lot of that was me being selfish and I knew it. I also knew we would be terrible parents and end up divorced with Destiny caught in the mess. Then I met Jenny at a blood drive. She wasn’t flashy or harddriven. She was just so genuine. Not a pushover either. Smart and kind and I didn’t want to lose her, so I sat on my past and trust me, Chloe, it was like being eaten by a tapeworm. I finally told her, we worked through it, and we’re in a good place. Not perfect because I am so not perfect. It’s good.
“If you sit on this, regardless of the outcome, it will eat you alive. Tell your husband, let him help you figure out how to get through this.”
“I can’t,” Chloe said. “I just can’t do that.”
“You’ve got two lovely ladies there to stand alongside you. I’ll help you, Chloe, but the very best advice I can give you is to tell your husband.”
She sat, silent. Not crumpled anymore but with her back a little straighter. That’s something. Destiny took the phone and smiled at Tom. “Thanks.”
“Anything,” he said.
“So how do we get this guy on assault?”
“First, get some really good pictures taken of that bruise. And go to a doctor so it’s not just them saying it’s Hollywood makeup. On the topic of pictures, if I had one, I could hire an investigator to go around the area and see if we can get his real name. Good thing you’re an artist.”
“Oh, Tom.” Destiny glanced at Chloe, cringed at the hopeful spark in her eyes. “I am not a good portrait artist. It’s the hardest thing to do.”
“Julia,” he said. “She is good at it. And she saw him, right?”
“Better than I did. Face-to-face. And Chloe can help.”
“Then it’s settled. We find this guy and get him for assaulting my firstborn daughter.”
“Thank you,” Chloe said. “Thank you.”
And thank You, God, Destiny thought. Thank You for finally showing up.
Thursday, 9:32 p.m.
Julia returned to an urgent message from Destiny. “The INSTANT you get this,” she said on voice mail, “you have to come see us. We don’t care what time it is. We need you NOW.”
She couldn’t think straight NOW, so she put on a pot of coffee and kneeled next to her bed. If only Matt were here. If only she didn’t have so much to be sorry about. If only she could remember how much she had to be grateful for.
If only Dillon had been born whole.
If only any of them had been born whole.
If only Katie Hamlin had punched her in the nose and exacted retribution. Maybe then her forgiveness would be easier to bear.
If only Matt were here to talk her through these exhausted notions, to hold her in the dark hours of the night.
She went to her suitcase, found her Bible, and opened up the Psalms. God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way . . . and my will and my courage and my baby boy . . . and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.
She read on, struggling to keep her eyes open. Be still, and know that I am God.
Julia let stillness take her—for how long, she didn’t know. Too soon, someone grabbed her shoulders and she screamed and swung her cast around and heard someone say, “Ouch.”
Destiny. Glaring down at her, security guard at her side. “Are you okay, ma’am?” he said.
“I’m . . .” Her heart lurched, making the room spin. “Dillon.”
“No,” Destiny said. “Your problem child, Chloe. Didn’t you get my message?”
“I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”
“If you’re all right, ma’am . . .” The security guard extended his hand and she tried to stand. She couldn’t feel her legs below her knees. Destiny looped her arm around her waist, helped her sit on the bed.
“She’s all right, thank you,” she said and pressed a ten-dollar bill into the guard’s hand. He shrugged, then left.
“I fell asleep on my knees.” Julia rubbed her eyes, trying to orient herself. The clock on the bedside table read 1:45 a.m. “Is Chloe okay?”
“No, dude. She’s not. But you’re going to make her okay. Can you walk or do you need like a cold shower or something?”
Julia stomped her feet. “I can’t feel them.”
“Wait.” Destiny kneeled down, took off her shoes, and rubbed her legs vigorously.
“Yow, that hurts,” Julia said.
“Pain—it makes a good spiritual metaphor.”
“I’d call it pins-and-needles,” Destiny said. “Let’s go. We need your help.”
Friday, 1:55 a.m.
Chloe was screaming and pacing the room. “Don’t let her see the video,” she cried.
“I don’t need to, sweetheart.” Julia tried to swallow her rising anger. What did this girl think would happen if she made a date with some guy she knew from the Internet?
God, forgive me. Everyone made terrible mistakes, and this one was a doozy. “What did Tom say?”
“He said we should threaten to bring an assault charge.”
“Against whom? Is Rob Jones his real name?”
Chloe buried her face in her hands. Destiny pried apart her fingers. “No ground-hogging on us. You promised.”
“Yes. I did promise.” Chloe shook like a dog tossing off water, then sat up straight. “Tom thinks his investigator might be able to track down who Rob Jones really is if they have a picture to show around.”
“Do you have a photo?” Julia asked.
“No,” Destiny said. “That’s why we need you to draw one. You got a good look at him in the lights when he pushed you down. That’s what you said. I only saw the side of his boot.”
Julia sank into the closest armchair and held up the cast on her hand. “Did you forget?”
“Oh . . .” Destiny sighed. “I did.”
“You’re an artist. You do it.”
“I’m not good with people. That’s why I do monsters.”
Chloe burst out laughing. Destiny gave her a quick look and then laughed with her. Smiling, Julia began to unravel her Ace bandage. “We’ll do it together. Do you have some paper?”
“I got some from the business center,” Chloe said. “They gave me some pencils too.”
“Ugh, Julia,” Destiny said. “Your fingers look like they have spiders growing out of them.”
“I like spiders,” Chloe said. “Rob Jones knows that.”
“And that is relevant—how?”
“Rob knows that. Jack doesn’t.”
“Tell him,” Destiny said. “Just tell your husband whatever it is that you want him to know.”
“He won’t listen.”
“Why should he, if all he hears is silence?” Julia said.
Chloe shrugged.
“So, Julia,” Destiny said, “you got fungus or something growing out of the top of your fingers?”
“Those are the stitches,” Julia said.
“How did you hurt your hand?” Chloe asked.
Strange. That had been one of Destiny’s first questions, and yet the intellectual sister didn’t think to ask until she saw the mess under the bandages. Was it from politeness—or from being too insular?
“She punched a wall because she couldn’t punch God,” Destiny said.
“That’s harsh,” Chloe said. “Do you still feel like that?”
“After meeting with your birth father and his wife, I now want to punch myself silly.”
“But they beat you to it,” Destiny said with a smirk.
“No. Quite the opposite. Once we all survived the first two hours, they were quite gracious. Chloe, they are anxious to meet with you.”
Chloe scooted back on the bed until she was jammed against the headboard. “No, I can’t do that. Not now. Half of America thinks those two are saints.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Destiny said. “I can’t do this, I can’t do that, I’m such a loser. Look at Julia—she just told two nice people how she pretty much screwed them out of a child and she did it face-to-face. For your sake, you idiot.”
“Don’t forget what’s at stake here. She did it for her son,” Chloe said. “We’re just tourists in her journey.”
Julia laughed. “Well, well, look who’s got a sharp tongue.”
“She got it from me,” Destiny said, joining her laughter.
“Dude,” Chloe said, with a giggle.
“Coffee,” Julia said. “And then let’s figure out how to get this picture drawn.”
Two cups of caffeine later, Julia still hadn’t been able to make her hand cooperate. There was no way she could bend those three swollen fingers. Her grip of the pencil with her thumb and small finger was tenuous at best, clumsy most of the time.
“Destiny, you have to do it,” Julia said.
“I can’t do it. I don’t have that kind of talent.”
“Help her,” Chloe said.
“I just said I don’t know how.”
“Steady my hand,” Julia said. “Lay your hand over mine. We’ll hold the pencil with my thumb and your index finger.”
“Gross,” Destiny said. “I have to touch that mess?”
“Honey, that’s often what it takes to get things done.”
Destiny sat next to Julia. “I’m left-handed. My right hand has no clue.”
“Then you hold the pencil and I’ll guide you with my left hand.” Julia climbed on the bed, positioned herself behind her daughter, and laid her left hand over the girl’s.
They sketched for almost an hour, with many erasures and as much input from Chloe as she could be coaxed to give. They finally produced a drawing that they agreed resembled Rob Jones. The thick, wavy hair that curled on his collar. The sleepy eyes. The long, thin nose.
“That’s him,” Chloe said. “Now take it away. I can’t bear looking at him.”
“I’ll call Tom, fax it to him,” Destiny said. “But first, you call Jack.”
“No, I can’t tell him about this. He’s going to hate me.”
“He’s part of this, Chloe. Call him or I’ll rip up this picture.”
“Julia, tell her to give me that picture.”
Julia shook her head. “She’s right. Call him and ask him to come out here to meet Andy and Katie with you. And then you can decide what to do about this Rob Jones. Honey, you’ve got to start somewhere.”
“I can’t.”
“Good grief.” Destiny grabbed her phone, speed-dialed Chloe’s landline number, put it on speaker.
“Destiny?” Jack asked.
She pressed the phone to Chloe’s face.
“It’s me,” she said in a halting voice.
“Are you okay, darling?”
“Could you fly out this morning? I’m going to . . . meet my birth father later today and I’d like you with me.”
“Of course,” he said. The eagerness in his voice was touching. Chloe made a circle around the sitting room, giving Jack specifics on the resort and transportation.
Julia kissed Destiny’s cheek. “Good work. Get some sleep after you fax that.”
“Gonna get messy once he gets here.”
“We can handle it,” Julia said. “Sweet dreams, my baby girl.”
“Back-at-cha,” Destiny said.
Julia smiled. Should she tell her that back-at-cha was one of Tom’s favorite sayings? No. She’d leave Destiny the joy of discovering that.
Chloe came back in the room. “He’s coming as soon as he can get on a plane. Now what?”
“He loves you,” Julia said. “You need to tell him.”
“I can’t.” Chloe shivered. “It would destroy him.”
Destiny squeezed her shoulder. “You heard what Tom said. That year of being eaten alive before he told Jenny he had a child? Hiding who you are is more destructive than being truthful about it.”
Chloe stared at Julia. “After I was born—how did you get through it? How were you able to move on with your life?”
“It was a very difficult time,” Julia said. “A dark time, full of blessings in disguise.”