CHAPTER 16
IF JAKE WAS REACTIVATING, Aria would have to learn how to live with impulsive. Live with danger. Live with the unknown.
Aria stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the window of her apartment at the sun lighting the skyline of Minneapolis aglow, and listening to her coffee brew. She’d said nothing—nothing—to Jake last night at the airport about their future, and her regret had forced her out of bed.
In fact, she’d said almost nothing since Ham’s words in Key West. “Anything to keep you from reactivating. I can’t lose you to the teams, Silver.”
The comment swept out her breath and hung around inside her heart the entire deafening ride to the boat in the flimsy inflatable raft. Then, Jake had spent the rest of the trip, at least until they got onto the plane, regaling his buddies with his three days of super-heroic-ness.
She hadn’t wanted to douse his triumph with her hurt.
Jake. Reactivating.
Becoming a SEAL again.
He might have mentioned that tidbit to her when she was handing over her heart, declaring that she wanted to be with him . . .
He probably expected her to follow him to . . . where? San Diego? Norfolk? Hawaii?
The coffee stopped dripping, gurgled, and she poured herself a cup. Remembered Jake’s whining about needing coffee, right before he, um, died.
She pressed her hand to her chest.
Maybe she would like Hawaii. And San Diego’s Rady Children’s Hospital was ranked twenty-fifth in the country for their pediatric cardiology and pulmonary surgery.
She could maybe help with that.
Really, Jake?
Aria had even tracked down Ham in the waiting room of the Miami hospital. “Is Jake rejoining the SEALs?” She’d kept her voice low, aware that it could carry into the ER bay where Jake’s hand was being examined and redressed. She’d like him to have an EKG too, but he seemed to be just fine, the way he’d picked her up, carrying her to the chopper.
For her part, they’d put a walking splint on her ankle, but it had stopped aching.
Or possibly, it just paled in comparison to the ache in her heart at Ham’s words. He’d looked at her, grinned, and said, flippantly, “After this week, I think reactivating would be a vacation.”
She’d stilled.
And then Ham had lifted a shoulder, turning serious. “Not if I can help it.”
But Aria knew Jake. When he made up his mind about something . . .
Maybe that’s what he meant by being caught in the middle. Having to make choices that hurt people. She’d thought he meant Afghanistan, but maybe it meant her. Not wanting to hurt her when he left.
“You’re up.”
She turned and Jenny came out of the bedroom. She wore a pair of joggers and a T-shirt and held a shoulder bag, her blonde hair back in a braid. She looked tan and completely recovered from their adventure in Alaska.
“I probably need to check in at the hospital.”
“Or, you could join me and Orion at the Mall of America today,” Jenny said. “He overheard Dinah tell Jake that she was having her twins’ birthday party there, and he decided he wanted to check out the amusement park.”
“Seriously?”
Jenny grinned. “Sure. Why not? Pick up some cheese curds?”
And for some reason, Jake and his Spam were back in her head.
“I don’t know . . . I—”
“Have had enough fun for one week?” Jenny winked as she walked over to the coffeepot. She poured a cup and leaned her hip against the counter. Blew on the coffee. “Face it, Ari. You need another vacation from your vacation.”
Aria laughed. “Please. I’m not leaving the state ever again. I’m tired of storms and blizzards and drama.”
Jenny looked at her. “Are you, though? Because according to Orion, who heard it from Jake, you were sort of a superstar in Florida. Jake said you saved his life.” Jenny raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for confirmation.
“He was electrocuted. I had to restart his heart.” She left out how many times.
“Wow.” Jenny put down her coffee. “You two really know how to take it to the next level.”
Aria felt her face heating.
“Oh . . . wow, I didn’t mean—did something happen between you two?”
Aria finished her coffee. Put her mug down. “I don’t know . . .”
Silence, and finally Jenny, the psychologist, rescued her. “You’re in love with Jake Silver.”
Aria drew in a breath. And then, because it was Jenny, “Oh, Jen, he’s just . . .”
Jenny’s face tightened. “What did he do?”
Oh, wait, no— “Nothing.”
“Jake can be charming. And sort of pushy. And impulsive—”
“And brave and amazing and kind and—Jenny, he’s not to blame for what happened in Alaska.”
Jenny’s mouth tightened.
“Really. I was the one who invited him to our room. I was the one who . . . well, who invited him to stay for a shower.”
Jenny raised an eyebrow.
“And yes, I’m grateful you walked in, because I wasn’t myself, but, well, maybe that’s the thing. I was myself—at least, I was following my heart, not Kia’s, and yes, I was following it way too far, but for the first time in my life, I realized something.”
Jenny had walked over to the counter, put her cup on it. Met her eyes, still unsmiling.
“My heart belongs to me, not Kia.”
One side of Jenny’s mouth lifted up.
“And I get to be happy. And to live. And it doesn’t have to be on Kia’s terms, but mine. I don’t owe her my life just because I had the fortune to get her heart. God arranged that. And he’s good. And sovereign and I don’t have to justify that gift. Kia lived her life the way she wanted to. And I get to do the same.”
“And that means—”
“That I love Jake Silver.”
There, she said it.
And the words sank like a balm into her soul.
She loved Jake Silver. Brave, impulsive, charming Jake Silver.
And she wasn’t letting him go.
Jenny blinked. “Wow. Really?”
“Really.” She blew out a breath. “Even if he’s going to be a SEAL again.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Apparently, Ham is trying to talk him out of it but I know Jake. He’s stubborn—”
“And charming and sweet and—”
“Impulsive and dangerous—”
“And hot.” Jenny grinned.
“And hot,” Aria said. “Painfully hot, and not just because of his smile. But because he’s all the way good, right down to his core. The kind of guy who doesn’t think before he saves a life. And I love him for that too.”
“Really?”
“I am tired of standing on the sidelines or doing the safe thing with my life.”
“We did climb Denali.”
“I meant emotionally, Jenny.”
Jenny grinned. “Then come to the Mall of America with us.”
“Why?”
“Because Jake will be there.”
Jake will be there.
He’d chased her to Florida. It seemed the least she could do was to chase him across the city. And wherever his—their—adventures took them.
“Let me get dressed and make a phone call,” she said.
Jenny reached for the bran cereal. “Who are you calling?”
Aria headed for her bedroom. “Texas.”
Jake should have been able to sleep until the end of time the way he’d fallen, hard, into bed, his muscles asleep before he hit the pillow.
But things weren’t right.
Not with Aria.
And then there was Ham’s question, rolling around in his head. “But do you do it because you have to—or because you can?”
Not that the answer mattered, but it would have been easier to shrug away if he didn’t hear his own voice echo the answer back . . .
“You’re doing things you never thought you’d do, because you have to, and then looking in the mirror and not recognizing yourself.”
Jake had spent his life following the have-tos, maybe.
Something he stared at the ceiling thinking about way too long.
Of course, the dream had woken him up first. A new one, but enough for him to feel it tremor over him.
He finally got up, pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt, and stopped in the bathroom for a quick brush, getting a look at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved when he’d showered last night, his hair askew. But at least he was clean.
And not in a hospital.
Jake headed downstairs, following the aroma of fresh coffee, and found a pot brewed in the big kitchen. Pouring himself a cup, he brought it out to the sunroom.
His father sat in his recliner, his Bible open on one arm, his eyes closed, rocking.
Oh.
Jake made to turn around—
“I can hear you breathing, so don’t even try to escape.” His father opened his eyes. “For a SEAL you sure are loud.”
“I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.” But Jake grinned. “Sorry to interrupt your praying.” He’d forgotten his father got up early to pray—had ever since Jake had been a child.
“I’m done. For now.” He closed his Bible, his tattered prayer list stuck inside.
Jake came over to the windows and stared at the lake. It was a deep indigo, and the sun was just gilding the waves, turning the tips to platinum. The scent of fresh-cut grass seasoned the air, the sprinklers hissing as they watered the lawn.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”
“I slept.” Jake sipped his coffee.
“You were talking in your sleep again. Same dream?”
He looked at his father. He wore an old Moody Bible Institute sweatshirt, his readers down on his nose. Now, he took them off and gave Jake a smile. “You can talk about it. Nobody’s judging you.”
Jake shook his head. “Different dream. This time I was swimming. I was in the ocean, and North and Ham were with me. But Aria was there too, and they were in a Zodiac just a few feet away, but I couldn’t seem to catch up. And the harder I swam . . . anyway, it’s just a stupid dream. I’ve seen enough ocean for a while.”
“You used to have one about running—”
“Yeah. Back when I ran track. Apparently I like to exercise in my sleep.”
His father took a sip of his coffee. “Any more . . . memories?”
Jake shook his head. But stared into his coffee. “Give it time.”
“Or maybe you’ve let it go.”
Jake gave a laugh. Only it didn’t sound like a laugh.
“I’ve been praying for you for a while, that you’d be freed from your, um—”
“Nightmare? Thanks, Dad, but I’m not fourteen. You don’t need to pray away my night terrors.”
“I’ll never stop praying for you, son.”
He didn’t know why those words burned his throat.
“I pray for all my children. Even Hannah.”
Jake looked away, blinking. “Why? She’s gone, Dad.”
“Because I believe in hope. And miracles.”
“I gave up on hope a long time ago.”
“You gave up on a lot of things a long time ago. Including your belief that you deserve to be happy.”
Jake looked at him, frowning. “I’m happy.”
“You act happy. But you aren’t happy, son. You mask all your pain with charm and jokes. And then you fill up all your emptiness with trouble and danger and call yourself healed. But you’re not. You’re angry and broken and driven by the voices that tell you that you’re trouble.”
“Wow, I’m glad I got up. How many cups of coffee have you had?”
“Just the three, but you know I’m right.” His dad raised an eyebrow.
Jake looked at his father.
“You’ve lived your entire life telling yourself that you are a villain. And villains don’t get a happy ending, do they?”
Jake drew in a breath. Fine. “It’s hard to be happy when you know you’ve wrecked the lives of the people you love.” He didn’t know why he said that, and frankly, it was the first time, really, that he’d spoken the truth, but maybe it was time. “It’s my fault Hannah went missing.”
“You’re the only one who believes that, Jake.”
Jake’s mouth tightened. “It’s true.”
“Then the only one who hasn’t forgiven you is . . . you.”
Jake closed his eyes. “I’ve tried. And sometimes I think I have. And then it comes right back and . . . something reminds me of . . . well, reminds me.”
“That’s the devil’s games, Jake. He’ll do anything to make you feel ashamed. Or guilty. Anything to try and tell you that you are unloved. Memories. What-ifs. Even the unkind words of others. They poke at you, unsettle you. Your relationship with God is the devil’s primary target, and if he can get you to believe that you have to earn God’s love, or that you are unredeemable—get you to turn away from grace—then he can block out God’s voice in your life. And suddenly, your life is empty.”
His father got up. “Forgiveness is a moving target. You have to find it and tell yourself the truth every day, as declared in God’s Word. You are forgiven. Nothing can separate you from God’s love.”
He walked over to Jake. “Jake, look at me.”
Jake felt like he might be thirteen years old again, unable to resist his father’s command, as he met his father’s eyes.
“You’ve listened to everybody else’s voices. Your guilt, your shame, even other people’s accusations.” His father put his hands on his shoulders. “Now listen to your father’s voice. I forgive you. I love you. You are my son, and I would choose none other.”
“Even if that son is impulsive and runs into trouble?”
His father gave his shoulders a shake. “Especially because that son is quick on his feet and isn’t afraid of danger. I count on him being exactly the man God made him to be.”
He paused, just holding Jake, his big hands warm on Jake’s body, his blue eyes in Jake’s.
“You are forgiven. You are clean. You are loved.”
Yes.
He breathed it in, the sunrise warm on his skin.
Finally, “Are we done here?”
Jake nodded.
“Good. Because I’m making waffles. My grandchildren will be up soon and we have a party to get to.”
He let Jake go and headed into the kitchen.
No, he didn’t deserve his father’s forgiveness at all.
But apparently, that’s how grace worked.
It wasn’t a bargain. So maybe he should stop trying so hard to earn something he already had.
I am forgiven. I am clean.
“Hey, Unca Jake!” The voice called out his name and he spotted six-year-old Darcy bouncing down the hallway, wearing a black tutu and a red Mickey Mouse T-shirt.
He put his coffee down just in time to scoop her up as she flew into his arms. She smelled of cotton sheets and bubble gum toothpaste. Grabbing his cheeks, she kissed his nose and grinned at him. “Are you going to my birthday party?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”
Three hours later, however, Jake was rethinking his answer as he stood in line for Blue’s Skidoo—one of the flying rides. He held Lola’s and Darcy’s hands, both of them wrenching his arms as they bounced in line, their excitement sloughing off them.
At a picnic table nearby, Dinah and her husband were finishing off waffle fries, while Ellie and Chloe got pedicures with their mom at a nearby salon. They’d roped Aggie in on the fun, something Ham seemed on the fence about.
“She’s ten.”
“Ten-year-olds have toenails, Ham,” Ellie had said, taking Aggie’s hand.
Scout and Bear had taken off with their grandfather for the Avatar Airbender ride.
North and Selah had vanished too, mentioning something about a roller coaster.
Jake had always liked the Mall of America, but he remembered the Camp Snoopy days with the giant blow-up of Snoopy standing guard at the entrance of the theme park. Now, a giant Spongebob Squarepants stood in Snoopy’s place, his legs the opening to a bounce house and ball pit for youngsters. Jake had stood at the netted wall watching Lola for nearly a half hour.
“What is this thing?” Ham had asked, watching Aggie jump.
“It’s a giant, um, sponge?” Jake said. “Shaped like a kitchen sponge. And he lives in the ocean, in a town called Bikini Bottom, and works as a fry cook—”
Ham held up his hand. “That is way too much information.”
“You’ll need to brush up on your Barbie and My Little Pony chops there, Chief.”
“I was thinking of taking her rock climbing.”
Jake laughed. “Right.”
“When Signe was a kid, she used to take in stray dogs. Maybe Aggie would like a dog?”
“Maybe you should just figure out how to take care of a ten-year-old before you start adding pets to the mix.”
Ham made a face.
“Listen, you’ll be fine. I’m not a parent, but there’s an instinct to it. You’re not her friend, you’re her father. Which means you have to be the bad guy sometimes. But the rest of the time, you just tell her that she’s loved. That she’s important to you. That she’s safe. And that you’ll never leave her.”
Weird to be giving advice to Ham, but he seemed to be listening, nodding. “I just . . . I haven’t quite figured out what this looks like.”
Now he stood in line with Jake, as if not sure what to do with himself. Poor guy, he radiated a weird tension, something so un-Ham-like it had Jake worried for him.
Still trying to figure out how to ace the dad thing, clearly.
At the picnic table, Phoebe had arrived. She carried a couple shopping bags and now sat on the bench, her hand perched on her belly.
“I missed so much,” Ham said, out of the blue. Or maybe it was simply a continuation of the conversation he was having in his head.
Whatever. Jake had his back. “You’re not going to miss any more.”
Ham shoved his hands into his pockets.
As Jake watched, his mother, Ellie, and Chloe returned. From a distance, he could see them show off their toes to Dinah and Phoebe.
“Where’s Aggie?” Ham asked.
From the body language of the ladies, his mother’s sudden frown, Chloe’s turning, and finally Ellie’s stricken look as she met eyes with Jake, they were asking the same question.
He felt a punch, right into the center of his gut.
“Where is Aggie?” Ham said and started out back through the line.
“C’mon, girls, we have to go,” Jake said, pulling them out.
“Unca Jake! No—” Lola started, but he gave her a look.
Her eyes widened, but she stopped whining.
He pulled them along, not quite running, and finally reached down and picked them both up, carrying them on his hips as he ran over to the bench.
Ham was already there, already getting a chaotic explanation.
“She was right ahead of us. Right ahead of us!” his mother was saying.
She met Jake’s gaze.
And inside, he heard screaming.
“We’ll find her, Mom,” he said and practically shoved Lola and Darcy at their mother.
“We’ll retrace our route,” Ellie said. Ham took off after her.
Jake took a breath. “I’m going upstairs. Maybe she’s in the park. I can get a better view from there.”
He looked at Lola and Darcy and couldn’t help a “Stay put.”
Dinah had their hands in a steel grip.
Then he took off for the escalator.
Oh, how he hated the Mall of America. Or any mall, in any city.
Any crowd, really.
Please, God, don’t let this happen again.
Jake took the escalator two steps at a time, pushing past a couple angry mothers, and ran out to the deck that overlooked the park.
She was wearing a pink shirt and a pair of jeans, her blonde hair in braids. He remembered Ellie braiding Aggie’s hair in the kitchen this morning. Remembered her changing her shirt after she spilled syrup on it.
“Aggie!” He didn’t care if he attracted attention, but it didn’t matter anyway, the roller coasters and screams of riders swallowed it up. The park was a mass of colors, moving machinery, balloons, and people, too many of them children. He scanned the park, his gaze falling on a little girl—too young. Another with blonde braids—but a green shirt.
He spotted North. He was standing on the picnic table, waving his arms at Jake.
“What?”
North was pointing toward the west entrance, to the third level.
There. Right by the I Love Minnesota store, he spotted Aggie. She was holding on to the railing, staring out at the amusement park.
His breath leaked out—
Wait.
Behind her stood a man, his hand on her neck, as if he was trying to pull her free from the railing.
“Hey!” Jake shouted, but it was useless. North had already sprinted for the entrance.
Jake took off, not sure who’d get there first, but racing toward the west entrance along the second floor.
Oh, how he wished he had a weapon.
He flew up the stairs at the west entrance. “Make a hole!” And landed at the top.
Clearly, the man was trying not to make a scene, the way he had Aggie by the arm, trying to pull her away from the railing.
She was fiercely holding on but not making a sound.
So, Jake did. “Let her go!”
What felt like a thousand heads turned.
But not the assailant. White, midthirties, with a backpack.
And behind his shirt—Jake lunged for the weapon.
Too late. The man turned and pulled it out, grabbing Aggie around the throat.
“Back. Off.”
Jake put up his hands.
The man seemed sober, and he bore an accent, something eastern European. Dark hair, a tattoo on his neck that snaked out of the collar of his shirt. He pulled Aggie back, away from the railing.
“Listen, dude, I don’t know what you want, but let the girl go, and we can talk.”
Behind him, Jake heard a voice—low, sober. “Aggie, don’t be scared.”
Ham.
The man looked from Jake, to Ham, then to the exit. Jake spotted a mall cop by a rack of Minnesota Vikings sweatshirts. Jake shook his head but the cop, maybe midtwenties, seemed intent on taking down the assailant.
“Listen, no one needs to get hurt here,” Jake started.
But Mall Cop clearly wasn’t listening because with a shout, he rushed Aggie’s assailant.
“No!” Ham’s voice but Jake’s thought as he dove at Aggie.
The assailant turned, fired off a shot at Mall Cop. Shoved Aggie toward the railing.
Then he turned his gun on Aggie.
And then, following his instincts—or maybe just a wild impulse—Jake grabbed her and dove over the edge, just as a gunshot bit the air.