The Chance

  The one her mom had written to Ellie the day before Kinzie’s birth.

  An hour later, as Tina got off work and picked up the girls, Ellie put together carrot sticks and graham crackers for Kinzie’s afternoon snack and thought about the incredible timing. Her father knew nothing about June first and her promise with Nolan, nothing about the tackle box buried beneath the old oak tree. Yet after all these years, he had given her more than a box of letters. He had given her a reason to go back to Savannah.

  Days before her long-ago promise to meet up with Nolan.

  He was dating Kari Garrett now, but that didn’t change the facts. If everything went the way she planned it, she would pull in to Savannah on the last day of May.

  Twenty-four hours before the time they had promised to meet.

  She dismissed the thought. Crazy timing. A coincidence.

  How could it be anything more than that?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Sleep wouldn’t come.

  Every time Ellie drifted off, the face of her father came to her. She had every reason to hate him. Tina was right—Ellie had checked online, and stealing mail was a federal offense, punishable by time in a penitentiary. Not that she would press charges, but she certainly had a right to be angry.

  So why couldn’t she stop thinking of him, standing there and crying? Apologizing to her? Something must’ve happened. Maybe he’d lost his job or someone in his life had died. Or he’d witnessed a tragic car accident. Something. He had mentioned God, so that could be it. Maybe he looked in the mirror one day and recognized the awful darkness of his heart. Or how far removed he was from his supposed faith. Maybe he’d seen how ugly his Christianity had been. The faith he’d tried to control them with.

  She flipped onto her other side, but sleep wouldn’t come, and Ellie knew why. Her heart was struggling to hate him. There lay the problem. She could see the pain in his expression, feel the hurt in his eyes when he begged her to forgive him.

  She opened her eyes and rolled onto her back. The street lamp shone into her room enough that she could see the ceiling. What did she teach Kinzie about forgiveness? How many times had she come home sad because other little girls on the playground had laughed at her shoes or refused to include her in their games? Inevitably, the next day the same girls would be sorry and want her to be part of their group.

  Ellie could hear herself. Kinzie, if the girls are sorry, you need to forgive them. Forgiveness makes you feel better. As soon as you forgive, you’re free. Hurt people actually hurt people. How many times had she said that to her little girl? She closed her eyes, but she could feel them fluttering open again.

  Like at the zoo, this would’ve been the perfect time to pray. But she didn’t need to talk to God. She had to talk to herself. Her father had done the meanest thing possible. He’d stopped her from having a relationship with her mom for a crazy amount of time. Just trying to grasp all she’d lost was enough to send her back to the bathroom. She should hate him and never talk to him. Ever.

  Holding on to her anger and unforgiveness would be completely justified. But she would feel sick all the time, and she certainly wouldn’t be free. With the clock counting down the minutes until their road trip, an idea began to form. Maybe before they hit the highway, they could stop by his house. She could knock on the front door, tell him she forgave him, and then spend the next three days behind the wheel, trying to convince herself it was true.

  There. If that’s what she was supposed to do, then sleep should finally come. Instead, the list began to run on repeat through her mind. Every reason she shouldn’t forgive him, the sensible facts that would make her feel like a crazy person for stopping by his house for any reason. Her father had been cold and unforgiving, holding Ellie and her mother to an impossible standard. His meanness had pushed Ellie away, just like it had pushed her mother away all those years ago.

  She wouldn’t stop at his house any more than she would drive to Savannah with four flat tires. Absolutely not. The finality in her decision gradually gave way to sleep. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the next thing she knew, someone was shaking her. Ellie put her hand over the smaller one on her shoulder. “Kinzie?”

  “Mommy, wake up!” She sounded worried.

  Ellie opened one eye and looked at the alarm. “What?” She shot up. The alarm hadn’t gone off, or she’d forgotten to set it. They were supposed to be on the road by seven o’clock, but already it was ten after eight.

  “You have to see this.” Kinzie pointed to her own bed and bounced a little. “Hurry, Mommy.”

  “Just a minute.” Ellie rubbed her swollen eyes and looked at Kinzie. She peeled back the covers and eased her feet onto the floor. “We have to hurry. Today’s our—”

  “Wait . . . first come here!”

  Kinzie never acted like this. Ellie stood and crossed the room to her daughter’s bed. It took a second or two to realize what she was looking at, but in a rush, every awful thing about yesterday came back. Scattered across Kinzie’s bed were dozens of letters.

  The letters from her mother.

  “Where did you get these?” Ellie didn’t want to sound mad. None of this was Kinzie’s fault.

  “I opened one.” Kinzie bit her lip, and her head dipped a little. “Sorry, Mommy. I thought they were a present.”

  “Kinz . . . you should’ve asked.” Ellie sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and searched the child’s eyes. “How did you find them?”

  “Remember that old dolly I didn’t want anymore and we were going to give it to a girl who didn’t have any dollies? Remember that?”

  “Yes.” Ellie gave Kinzie a look that said she’d better tell the truth. “We gave that box of old toys away two months ago.” She put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Actually, the doll was in one of Ellie’s bedroom drawers. Kinzie had sworn she was finished with it, that she was too old for dolls. Even if that were true, Ellie would keep it forever. A reminder of Kinzie’s little-girl days.

  “Yeah, but I was thinking maybe the dolly spilled out onto the floor in the closet. And if she did, then maybe she was sad and alone in the closet, and she could move back in here with me again. Because she never really wanted to leave our ’partment, Mommy. That’s what I was thinking.” Kinzie stopped for a quick breath. She swallowed, nervous. “So I tippy-toed real quiet to the closet to find her, and instead, I found this!” She held her hand out toward the display scattered across her bedspread. “I did make my bed first.” She smoothed out the comforter. “See?”

  “Kinzie . . .” Ellie didn’t want to be angry. She felt sick again. The reality of what her father had done was impossible for her to understand as an adult. Kinzie wouldn’t stand a chance. “Come here.” Kinzie came closer, and Ellie pulled her into a gentle hug. “You know better than to open Mommy’s mail.”

  “I know.” The girl peered up, her blue eyes enormous. “I was curious like a cat, Mommy. I couldn’t stop myself.” She blinked a few times. “Did you know that every letter in that box is from Caroline Tucker in Savannah?”

  “Yes, baby. I know that.”

  “She’s your mommy, right?”

  “She is.” Ellie sighed. This was the last thing she expected to be doing this morning. “My dad came by the salon and brought me the letters.”

  Kinzie thought about that for a few seconds. “Did your mom write all those letters last week?”

  “No, sweetie. She wrote them ever since my daddy and I moved to San Diego.”

  The wheels in Kinzie’s mind were clearly spinning. “But why didn’t you open them sooner?”

  “Well, that’s just it.” She smiled, hoping Kinzie couldn’t see the hurt and pain in her eyes. “My daddy was mad at my mommy. So he didn’t give them to me until now.”

  Her daughter’s eyes grew wide, so wide Ellie could almost see the whites all the way around them. “What if your mom had something important to tell you?”

  “She did.” Ellie refused the tears. “Every le
tter was important, and I never knew about them, so I never wrote back to her.”

  Kinzie drew in a slow gasp. “That wasn’t very nice of your daddy, right?”

  “Right.” Ellie needed to change the topic. She didn’t want to talk about her father. Not when they were about to set out on the biggest adventure of their lives. “Guess what?”

  “What?” Kinzie pressed in closer to Ellie, probably glad she wasn’t in trouble.

  “Today’s our road trip! An adventure, just you and me.” Ellie looked at the envelopes scattered on the bed. “This is why we’re going. After I read some of my mom’s letters, I decided we would drive to Savannah. So I can tell her in person that I finally opened my mail.”

  “Really?” Kinzie’s excitement was tempered with concern. “What if she’s mad at you?”

  “Baby, why would she be mad?”

  Kinzie ran her hand over the letters. “You didn’t read what she wrote . . . and you didn’t write back.”

  Ellie’s heart sank to her knees. “I didn’t know her address. And I didn’t know she wanted to talk to me.”

  Kinzie looked at the floor, the reality overtaking her. “That’s so sad, Mommy. In the letter I read, she told you she loved you very much. She wanted to see you really bad.”

  “I know.” Her daughter had always been an advanced reader. Who knew what all she’d read in the last hour. Ellie kept her smile, even as her eyes welled up. “See? That’s why we’re going there.”

  Kinzie nodded slowly, but she was distant, as if the information was more than she could process all at once. Finally, she came closer and put her hands on Ellie’s knees. “Are you mad at your daddy?”

  “Yes.” There was no point in lying. “He hid the letters from me. That was the wrong thing to do.”

  “Yes.” Kinzie thought some more, her eyes on the letters. When she looked at Ellie, her eyes were desperately sad. “Did your daddy tell you he was sorry? Was that why he gave you the letters now?”

  “He did.” Ellie could hardly believe she was having this conversation with her daughter.

  “So did you forgive him, Mommy? Because remember you always tell me forgiving people makes us free?” Kinzie hesitated. “And remember you say how hurt people hurt people?”

  “I remember.” Ellie ran her hand down her daughter’s hair. “Sometimes, with something like this, forgiveness takes a long time.”

  Kinzie looked worried. “It doesn’t have to.” She reached up and patted Ellie’s cheek. “I don’t want you to be hurt, Mommy.”

  The crazy plan from last night came back all at once. Something Ellie had to do, given the situation—not for her father but for Kinzie. “Maybe we could stop by his house on the way out of town.” She couldn’t believe the words had come from her mouth. She wouldn’t be able to forgive him. But she could go through the motions for her daughter. Otherwise she would look like a hypocrite, and Kinzie would spend the whole road trip worrying about her.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. We’ll stop there first.”

  Peace flooded Kinzie’s face. “That sounds good.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ellie’s cheek. “You’ll feel better, Mommy.” The comment was almost exactly what Ellie had told Kinzie so many times. Forgive someone . . . you’ll feel better. Kinzie’s smile came easily now. “When are we leaving?”

  Ellie’s stomach was in knots. Was she really going to do this? The idea made her sick. She remembered Kinzie’s question and answered it. “We’ll leave soon. As soon as we eat.” She stood and walked to her dresser. “You still want your baby doll? The one from the closet?”

  “Yes.” Kinzie’s face fell again. “But I think she stayed in the box, Mommy. She wasn’t in the closet at all. Now she has some other little girl to love.”

  “She still has you, Kinz.”

  “She does?” Kinzie blinked a few times, surprised.

  “Yes. Because she’s in here.” Ellie opened the second drawer and found the doll. “I couldn’t give away your baby doll. Even if you were done with her.”

  Kinzie breathed in loud and long. She ran to Ellie and carefully took the doll into her arms. “Thank you, Mommy . . . thank you. I wasn’t done with her. I thought I was too big for baby dolls, but I’m not that big at all. Right?”

  Ellie thought about Kinzie’s insistence that she forgive her father. “Sometimes you are.” She bent down and kissed the top of the child’s head. “But never too big for your baby doll.”

  For a few seconds, Kinzie danced around in arcs and circles. “You know what I think, Mommy?” She held the dolly out, dancing with her. “I think this is going to be the best ’venture ever!”

  The sick feeling became an anxiety that spilled into Ellie’s blood and worked its way through her body. The road trip would be amazing, and seeing her mother after all these years would be a highlight of her life. Ellie had no doubt.

  If she could just get through the next hour.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Alan Tucker was dead. Never mind that his heart was still beating. He had died the moment Ellie took the box and turned away from him. He sat on the edge of his bed that Sunday morning and thought about the past week. His predictions about giving Ellie the letters had been right on. She hated him. She would hate him as long as she lived for what he’d done. He had pushed away the people he loved most in life, and that could mean only one thing.

  He was dead.

  No matter how long it took his body to catch up.

  Still, as dead as he felt, he was also convinced of something else. He had done the right thing. The letters were hers, and she deserved to have them, to read them. If she could find her mother after all these years, she needed to do so. He might never find healing, but there was time for Ellie. Time for Caroline.

  The thought of Caroline weighed heavy on his chest. She should’ve received the letter yesterday, if his calculations were right. That meant by now she might’ve had time to forgive herself. He knew Caroline—no matter how long they’d been apart, he knew her. She hated the fact that she’d had an affair. He could still see the desperation in her face when she begged him to forgive her the night she told him the truth. Never would she have turned to another man if he hadn’t destroyed her first. He had tried to be clear about that in the letter. So she could let go of her own guilt, forgive herself, and move on. She would hate him because of the letters.

  Same as Ellie.

  But that was a small price for finally doing the right thing.

  Alan slipped into shorts and a T-shirt. He needed to work out, needed to push his body past feeling comfortable. He might be dead, but he still had to move. Blame it on the marine training. Physical exertion had a way of taking his mind off his broken heart.

  The house was painfully silent. Music. That would help. Matthew West’s latest CD was in the player. He skipped to his favorite song, “Forgiveness.” The song was about realizing that, ultimately, all anyone ever needed was the Lord. Alan could relate.

  With the music on loud, he dropped to the floor and did fifty push-ups, slow and methodical. He loved how exercise made his muscles burn, how it punished him the way he deserved. He turned onto his back and powered through fifty sit-ups and fifty squats. Then he repeated the routine.

  If he was honest with himself, Ellie hadn’t started hating him yesterday. She’d been angry with him since she was nineteen and came home pregnant, since he called her names and accused her of terrible things. Or maybe since the move to San Diego. Yes, she had probably hated him for a long time.

  After his third round of calisthenics, he turned off the music. You’re with me, God . . . I know that. I’m not really dead. He’d met with the chaplain again on Friday, the day before he took the letters to Ellie. The man had said something that stuck with Alan. As long as he was breathing, God’s greatest task for him was not yet finished. His highest purpose in life was still unfulfilled. It was why he would attend church that Sunday. The six o’clock service, same as always.
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  Because God had plans for him.

  Alan found his running shoes. He ran five miles on the weekends, more than the usual three he logged every night after work. Today he might go seven or ten. However long it took so he’d be too tired to feel his aching soul.

  He finished tying the laces and headed to the kitchen for water when he heard the doorbell. Strange, he thought. Solicitors didn’t usually canvas neighborhoods on Sundays. His mother’s house was a simple ranch in an older well-kept neighborhood five miles from the prison. Without stopping to look out the window, Alan walked to the front door and opened it.

  What he saw nearly stopped his heart for real.

  “Ellie?” His voice was a whisper, all he could manage. She stood on the front porch with a little girl, a blonder miniature of her. The child had her arm around Ellie’s waist, her eyes on Alan’s.

  His mouth was instantly dry, but he opened the door wider. “Come in. Please.”

  “We can’t stay.” Ellie didn’t sound warm, but the anger from before seemed gone from her voice. For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything. She looked down at her daughter. “This is Kinzie.” She sucked in a long breath. Something about her tone told him this was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “Kinzie, this is your grandpa Tucker.”

  “Hi.” Kinzie waved a little. She was beautiful, big blue eyes and the same innocence that once defined Ellie. And Caroline before her.

  Tears blurred Alan’s eyes. He didn’t come closer, wasn’t sure he should. But he crouched down so he was on her level. “Hi, Kinzie. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She kept her arm tightly around Ellie’s waist.

  Alan stood and looked at his daughter, too shocked to speak. Of all the things he figured Ellie might do today, this wasn’t on the list.

  “You said you were sorry . . . for what you did. For the letters.” Her voice broke, and she hung her head. Now Kinzie wrapped both arms around her waist and buried her face in her mother’s side.