Suddenly the truth welled up inside him. For every wrong thing he’d ever done, he was forgiven. Jesus Christ had seen to that by dying on the cross. Wasn’t that the message he’d heard a hundred times growing up in the boarding school? That same forgiveness was his—now. The way it belonged to Elizabeth and John, the way it belonged to all people who asked for it. Maybe he had found God, without really looking at all. There was more to it, of course. The changes wouldn’t happen overnight, but this was a beginning. He remembered what Katy had told him at the lake the last time he saw her.
“The way back has to start somewhere for all of us.”
That’s what forgiveness was—a start. The response that had filtered through his heart was proof. My son, I forgive you. . . . I will never leave you . . . never. Because with those words came something Dayne hadn’t known for all of his adult life, something he’d craved and sought after regardless of the fame and money and adulation. The one thing he couldn’t get from a bank account or a movie role or a learning center or a relationship—even a relationship with Katy Hart.
Complete and all-consuming peace.
Dress rehearsals for Annie were scheduled to start in two days, and as Saturday’s practice wrapped up, Katy could only stand back in awe. Not just because of the event she and the older kids were going to take part in after practice.
But because the show was going to be beautiful.
The kids were turning in better rehearsals every day, and Katy was running out of things that needed improving. Even the kids in small roles were improving themselves without being asked.
Kelsy Bouchey had come to her a week earlier and asked for pointers, anything that would make her performance a little stronger, more memorable.
Katy had given the little girl a hug and looked into her eyes. “Honey, you’re doing a great job. I wouldn’t change anything.”
“But—” she was as serious as she’d ever been—“Sarah Jo Stryker wanted to be Annie.” She gulped. “And I want to make Sarah Jo’s parents happy. It has to be perfect.”
Katy had to swallow back a rush of tears. She crouched down so she was on Kelsy’s level. “I can’t give you anything else, honey. You’re doing a great job. But maybe you could ask Jesus to give you something more. That way you’d know this show was more special.”
The sentiment had been echoed throughout the cast. Some of the boys had talked about hitting a new level with the full-company ensemble scenes, since little Ben Hanover had wanted so badly to sing and dance in a play. In honor of Ben, they’d taken to wearing Peter Pan hats during some of the rehearsals.
Alice Stryker was doing much better now, her injuries from the accident mostly healed. This morning she’d stopped by practice and sat in the back of the sanctuary. A few kids gave her hugs, but for the most part people gave her space. She held a handkerchief below her eyes the entire time she was there. Katy approached her on the break and told her that the kids were dedicating their show to Ben and Sarah Jo.
Alice sniffed and worked her throat for a moment, her eyes red and swollen. When she could find the words, she said, “Thank you, Katy. I . . .” She focused on the front of the sanctuary, where the kids were huddled in groups, sharing snacks and laughter and lines from the play. “I wish I had one more chance to watch her rehearse.” She looked at Katy. “Because that’s what I would do. I would watch.” The tears spilled freely down her face. “I never really watched her sing.”
Katy didn’t know what to say. She hugged the woman for a long time and then dabbed at her own eyes. “Come to opening night, please. We’ve saved the front row for you and your family and the Hanovers.”
Alice nodded, but she made no commitment. She lifted her hand and gave Katy a little wave. Then she gathered her purse and her damp handkerchief and left through the back door without another word.
That had been an hour ago, and now practice was finished and the kids were waiting for a word from her. She gave a few final instructions to Nancy and Al Helmes and Rhonda regarding the upcoming dress rehearsal.
“I can’t wait for opening night.” Nancy Helmes smiled at the others, her eyes glistening. “I have a feeling it’ll be a time to remember.”
“Even the dog’s doing great.” Al chuckled. “Who’d have thought?”
Rhonda grinned. “I still think it would’ve been fun to see Katy in a dog costume.”
“It’s all about the raw hot dogs.” Katy brushed her knuckles against her shoulder and cocked her head back. “I got the premium brand. The dog’s been perfect ever since.”
“I think it’s more about having a premium God in charge.” Al raised his brow at her, but his eyes held the teasing they’d come to love.
They all laughed.
Katy carried her notepad to the front of the sanctuary and through the sea of kids seated on the floor. “Okay, another excellent rehearsal.” She studied the earnestness on the face of one child after another. “Let’s pray that everyone will stay healthy during dress rehearsals and that we can bring together the props and costumes before opening night.”
Tim Reed raised his hand. He was sitting next to Bailey Flanigan and several of the older kids. He waited until Katy recognized him; then he stood and said, “Let’s pray about something else.” He glanced at his peers. “We heard that the Hanovers might not come. I guess . . . it’s been really hard for them.” He looked at Katy. “We think it would help everyone if they came. So maybe we could pray about that too.”
Katy nodded. “Good idea.”
They talked for a few more minutes, and then they prayed before Katy dismissed them. As they started to leave, she looked at the older kids. “The kids from the Bible study are meeting out back. The moms who are driving are already out there waiting.”
It was the moment she’d been waiting for all week. Al Helmes was right about the reasons things were going so well. God’s presence had been with them from the beginning, working one miracle after another in their midst. Kids knew their lines and their blocking, the music sounded heaven-sent, and the sets were finished a week early.
But nothing onstage would ever compare to the miracle God was about to work this afternoon. The Bible study had grown in number and depth over the weeks. They’d talked about Jeremy Fisher’s life and how they might’ve been in the same place if they’d been him. The kids began to see that anger and hatred and revenge could never be part of the solution, no matter how guilty a person was. Then they looked at the book of John and talked about what Jesus meant when He said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
After the weeks of Bible study, the kids had made a decision—all on their own. After the last regular rehearsal they would take a trip to the jail.
The kids were quiet as they piled into three vehicles. Katy watched them, struck by the maturity in their eyes and faces. There was none of the usual giggling and teasing and silliness. They were kids on a mission, preoccupied with the enormity of the task that lay ahead of them.
Katy took the passenger seat in the first van, the one driven by Jenny Flanigan. They said little until they turned into the jail parking lot and Jenny turned to her. “Of all the things you’ve done with these kids, Katy, this will always be the one that mattered most.”
“I didn’t do it.” Her heart raced in anticipation, but she managed a smile. “I just helped give them a chance to let God do it.”
Katy led the group through the parking lot and helped them check in at the front desk. The jailers were expecting them and had already placed Jeremy Fisher in a room big enough to hold their group.
“He won’t be wearing handcuffs,” a guard explained to her. “He’s not considered a risk.” The man’s face was stern. “Not when he’s sober, anyway.” He looked down the line at the group of quiet kids. “I’ll have two officers outside the room if you need anything.”
Katy took a step forward. “Thank you.”
The adults were also invited to visit Jeremy, but
many of them didn’t want to. It was something for the kids, they said. Others thought it was too soon for such a connection to be made. Katy didn’t question their reasons. She was only grateful that the kids had decided to come.
Katy waited with an officer near the door until everyone was ready. They followed the man through a series of doors and into a space the size of a high school classroom. At the front was a table, and at the table sat a thin, scraggly-looking kid with nervous eyes as big as Frisbees.
Katy had been here before, so she took the lead. She went to him and held out her hand. “Hello, Jeremy.” She waited until he made eye contact. How must he feel? “I told you I had some kids who might want to come.” She turned and pointed to the group huddled near the door. “Here they are.”
Jeremy gave a quick, furtive glance at his visitors, but he shifted his attention back to Katy. “I . . . I deserve this.” His hands and arms trembled, and his words seemed to stick in his throat. “I told you they could come, so they can go ahead. I’m ready.”
A strange feeling rattled the doors of Katy’s heart. “What do you mean, you’re ready?” She twisted her face, confused. “Ready for what?”
He gulped and ran his tongue over his lower lip. “These are their friends, right?” His voice was a shaky whisper. “Friends of the kids I . . . the kids that died.”
“Yes.” Katy looked back at the group. They were still near the door, waiting for the go-ahead from her. She turned back to Jeremy. “These are their friends, the kids I told you about.” She still didn’t understand. “What are you ready for? What do you deserve?”
“For them to tell me off.” He ran his hand through his curly hair. “They’re mad at me, and this . . . this is their chance to tell me how they feel, right?” He gave a weak shrug. “Isn’t that what this is about?”
A knowing came over Katy, and she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Jeremy Fisher thought the kids constituted a verbal firing squad, and even still he’d been willing to meet with them. Katy didn’t say anything in response. She only stood a few feet away, faced the others, and simply nodded.
The group came forward and formed a line.
The first to reach him was one of the girls. She put her hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “We know you didn’t mean it to happen.” Her voice was clear, but a stream of tears ran down her cheeks. “If you would’ve been in CKT you would’ve known how nice they were, Sarah Jo and Ben. And maybe you wouldn’t have been drinking.” She never took her eyes from him. “But I know you didn’t mean to kill anyone, Jeremy.”
As she spoke, Jeremy sat a little straighter. He looked from her to Katy and back again, his expression surprised, then shocked as if to ask, “What is this? Where are the verbal bullets?”
Several kids came up after that, talking to Jeremy one at a time and telling him things that were similar to what the first girl had said. The moms watched in the background, dabbing at their eyes, as the procession continued. With each CKT teen who spoke, Jeremy’s shock faded a little more. Instead he slumped in his seat and wept, nodding and listening to the words being spoken to him but unable to say anything in return.
Tim Reed was next. He reached out and shook Jeremy’s hand, but when the handshake was over he didn’t let go. “Sarah Jo sang with me over the summer.” He smiled at the memory, his eyes watery. “She was amazing, man. One-in-a-million voice. I know she would’ve wanted to live.” He released Jeremy’s hand and patted his shoulder. “But she would’ve forgiven you.” He looked at the other CKT kids, then back to Jeremy. “That’s why we’re here. We forgive you too. Now get your life right with God and make something of yourself. Don’t let their deaths be in vain.”
Jeremy nodded, his cheeks red and wet. Tim shook his hand one more time and then joined the others near the door.
Next in line was Bailey Flanigan. Katy’s heart went out to her. The loss of Ben and Sarah Jo at the hands of a drunk driver had been one of the two most difficult things Bailey had ever experienced. Her anger toward Jeremy Fisher was easily the other.
Bailey walked up to Jeremy, and for a moment she said nothing, just looked at him. A bit of the old anger remained in her expression but only for an instant. Then her eyes softened, and everything about her face and demeanor changed.
She took hold of Jeremy’s hands and spoke in a voice that was clear and kind. “I wanted to hate you, Jeremy Fisher. I thought you were selfish and careless and unfeeling. You drank way too much, and then you went out and killed our friends.” She hesitated. “I wanted them to punish you, lock you up and never let you out. But God changed how I felt.” Her voice cracked, and only then did her eyes well up. “Hate won’t bring back Ben and Sarah Jo.” She sniffed. “It won’t make you more responsible or less dangerous. Only God can do that. And God tells us hate isn’t the answer. Love is. So I didn’t come here to hate you. I came here to tell you I’m praying for you to change, to find faith in Christ, and to feel our forgiveness.”
Then Bailey did something that took Katy’s breath away. She leaned in and hugged Jeremy Fisher. When she drew back, he looked like a lost little boy. The pain of his mother’s leaving and his father’s being in Iraq, the emptiness of drinking, and the horror of the accident—all of it was on his face. But there was something else there, something that hadn’t been there before.
A thin ray of hope.
Only one more CKT student remained, the one who had called Katy only last night to ask if she could come. The one that tugged at Katy’s heart more than all the others combined.
Brandy Hanover.
Since the accident, she’d had three operations on her leg, and she still wore a full-length cast. She inched forward with the use of her crutches.
Jeremy watched her, and a deep fear filled his eyes, as if he knew who she was and if he’d had the chance, he would’ve bolted from the room and run from her.
Near the door, the other kids were sniffling, many of them crying openly.
Brandy made it to Jeremy Fisher’s side, and for a long time she only looked at him. Then she handed him something, and Katy squinted to see what it was. Only as Jeremy took it did she get a good look. It was a school picture of Brandy’s brother, Ben, the last one he’d ever taken. Katy had seen the picture before. It would appear in the Annie program on a memory page, alongside a photo of Sarah Jo.
“That’s my brother, Ben.” Brandy glanced at the picture. It was an adorable shot, showing Ben’s impish grin and his missing front tooth. Brandy’s tears were like many of the others’—quiet and controlled, leaving her the ability to speak clearly. She looked at Jeremy. “I thought you might want to know about Ben.” She paused, but only long enough to balance on her crutches and wipe her cheeks. “Ben loved singing and dancing and Peter Pan. He couldn’t wait to try out for CKT.” She sniffed, but her voice stayed strong. “He thought Neverland was a real place, and he used to run into my room with his Peter Pan hat and bug me by singing as loud as he could, ‘I can fly . . . I can fly . . . I can fly.’”
Jeremy leaned back and shaded his eyes with his hand. Tears streamed down his face, and his body jerked from a series of sobs.
Brandy put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel worse, Jeremy.” She shifted her position, putting her broken leg out to the side. “I just want you to know him.”
She waited until Jeremy put his hand down and looked at her. Jeremy’s voice was thick, but he managed to say, “Go ahead.”
Brandy took the photo of Ben and smiled at it. “He was the slowest one in the morning. He would wait till the last minute to comb his hair or wash his cereal bowl.” She handed the photo back to Jeremy. “He always drank the last of the milk before I had a chance. But at night he’d sit on my knee when Mom read Dr. Seuss to us. He loved Horton Hears a Who! When I was in a play, no one ever clapped louder.” Rivers of tears spilled down her cheeks. She put her hand over her heart and looked straight into Jeremy’s eyes. “Nothing’s the same without him. I miss hi
m so much.”
Jeremy looked at the picture in his hand and then up at Brandy. His face twisted in a mix of sorrow and horror and regret. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. I forgive you, Jeremy.” Brandy took the photo back and studied it for a long moment. Then she put her hand on Jeremy’s and brought her face closer to his. “Please . . . don’t drink anymore. Okay?”
Katy rubbed her fists across her own cheeks and drew a deep breath. It was her turn, but she couldn’t imagine how she was supposed to close the moment, not when she couldn’t even speak. She watched Brandy hobble over and join the rest of the group. That’s when it hit her. If an eleven-year-old could do what Brandy Hanover had just done, then she could pray. Even if she sobbed through the entire thing.
“God—” she put one hand on Jeremy’s shoulder—“we’re here because we’ve loved and we’ve lost. We lost Ben and Sarah Jo, but—” she steadied herself—“but we don’t want to lose Jeremy too. So we ask with one voice, one heart, that You will awaken Jeremy to Your truth and Your salvation. To Your forgiveness. And in the meantime let him know that everyone in this room will be praying for him.”
Jeremy was weeping too hard to speak. They looked at him one last time; then he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. He stayed that way, his shoulders shaking, as they left the room.
Katy would be back to talk to him, back to see if he was ready to make a decision to follow Jesus. But even as he wept, Katy had the strongest sense that the others would see Jeremy Fisher again, and that when they did, he wouldn’t be merely the drunk driver responsible for killing a couple of CKT kids.
He would be a fellow believer.
No force on earth could’ve kept Dayne from keeping his promise this Friday night in November.
He landed in Indianapolis and rented a car the smart way, the way that gave him a clear path to Bloomington without worrying that the paparazzi had followed him. He pulled into town thirty minutes early and drove to the theater parking lot. Darkness had already fallen, and Dayne was glad. No one would notice him; no one would expect Dayne Matthews to be driving around the Bloomington Community Theater now. Not when he was still finishing reshoots for Dream On at the Hollywood studio.