She smiled, and the brilliance of it almost hid the pain in her eyes. “I thought so too.” She wriggled the ring from her finger. It contained a total of two carats, nothing like the small ring he’d bought Lauren a lifetime ago. “Here.” Her eyes glistened. “I can’t be second best, Shane.”
“I know.” He took the ring and tried to see past her pretense. “I think we would’ve made a good team.”
“Me too.” She gave his fingers a heart felt squeeze. “But I don’t want a teammate, Shane. I want someone who adores me.”
“I understand.” He pulled her to himself and folded her in his arms. “I’m the problem, Ellen. Not you. You’re perfect.”
She nodded, and when she drew back he noticed her makeup was still intact, her eyes dry. “I’ve spent the day working through this, so, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll get going.”
“Okay.” He released her and she took a step.
Holding her purse close to her side, she nodded at him. “Good-bye, Shane.”
“Good-bye.” He held up his hand and waited as she turned and headed back to the door.
When she reached it, she looked at him once more over her shoulder. “You didn’t want to be governor anyway, did you?”
The sadness in his heart was genuine. She had offered him the kind of life most guys in his place would’ve jumped at. He felt God’s words shouting from the foundation of his heart. Lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.
Ellen was waiting, watching him. He took a few steps closer one last time and shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, Ellen. God made me to be a pilot. I love politics, and I’d vote for your father and everyone on the party ticket as long as the issues are what they are today.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. God, let her move on quickly from here. She deserves so much more. “But the truth is, I only thought I’d like politics because I liked you. Your father was a politician, and I thought it made sense if I became one too.”
She covered his hand with her own, and after a few seconds she took hold of the door handle and backed up another step. “You know something?”
“What?”
“I’m glad you figured it out.” Her smile was more genuine now, as was her sorrow.
“Me too.”
She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “And I’m flattered that you liked me that much.” She nodded at him and held his eyes another few seconds. Then she turned and walked down his sidewalk to her car waiting along the curb. When she was gone, he grabbed his phone and went back outside on his patio. His chest ached, and he knew why. She wasn’t right for him, but he cared about her. He was going to miss her, and once again he was going to be alone.
Now it was time to break the news to his parents.
Sheila Galanter hung up the phone and barely made it into the living room where her husband Samuel was reading the newspaper.
“It’s over.” She leaned against the doorway. Moving any further into the room wasn’t an option. All her energy was taken with trying to sort through the news.
Samuel lowered the newspaper to his lap. “What is?”
“Shane and Ellen. They called it off.”
“Hmm.” He looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Can’t say I blame him.”
“Samuel! Listen to you.” She was catching her breath now. “Ellen was a lovely girl.”
“She was that.” He looked at her. “But she had Shane’s life planned out for him.”
“We did the same once, remember?” She walked into the room and sat on the edge of the chair opposite him.
He groaned and released the footrest in the recliner. It snapped down into place, and he sat straighter than before. “Sheila, it was only a few weeks ago that you were chock-full of doubts about this impending marriage.”
“I didn’t have doubts.” Her tone changed. “I was worried he did.”
“Well — ” Samuel leaned forward and gave her knee a quick squeeze — “looks like you were right.” He studied her. He knew her so well. “Shane’s still young, Sheila. He’ll find someone else.”
It was exactly what she was thinking. But Shane’s age wasn’t the problem. The awful reality was that their son hadn’t truly loved someone since — “What if this is all our fault, Samuel?” Her voice slipped to a whisper. “Have you ever thought of that?”
A shadow fell over her husband’s eyes, and he folded his hands on his lap. For more than a minute he said nothing, as if he was being sucked back to that awful time when they’d felt forced to start a new life in order to protect their son.
A long sigh escaped him. “I haven’t wanted to.”
“But you have, right?” All those years, two decades since they’d left Chicago, and never once had Sheila gotten up the courage to talk to her husband about this. They made their decision and never looked back. But now the past had limped into the room with them, torn up and bleeding, impossible to ignore. Not that they were crushed about the breakup between Shane and Ellen. But the fact that their son had never let goof Lauren Anderson. She watched her own feelings play out across his face, and she already had her answer. “Samuel, talk to me.”
He drew in a deep breath. “When we moved that boy here, I knew with everything I was that it was the right decision.” He spoke through clenched teeth, allowing a rare show of emotion. “He was seventeen, Sheila. What were we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.” A crack formed in her heart and she hung her head. Samuel was right. They’d wanted only the best for him. The move had been Samuel’s idea, but she had supported it. To the point of losing her best friend, she’d supported it.
“He wanted to marry her and . . . and be a father all before he finished high school. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen.” Samuel spread his fingers over his chest. “Please . . . tell me you don’t blame me, Sheila.”
“How can I?” She lifted her hands and let them drop in her lap again. “I was the one meeting with Angela, telling her we needed a plan.” The crack widened. “I talked about Lauren like she was — ” She looked at the floor, the memories so close she could touch them. “I talked about Lauren like she was completely to blame.” She twisted her expression and looked at Samuel again. “I lost my friend because I couldn’t, not for one minute, think Shane was anything but a victim.”
Samuel took her hands in his. For a long time he ran his thumbs along hers. Then he shook his head. “We were wrong. I’ve known it for a long time.”
“He’s looked for Lauren all his life.” She felt her eyes grow distant. “Sometimes when I’m on the Internet, I type in her name, just to see what comes up.”
He studied her, eyes wide. “I’ve done that, too.”
“We should’ve looked for Angela and Bill. They would know where to find her.”
A strange look came over him and he gave a single shake of his head. “No. They have no idea. At least they didn’t five years ago.”
What was he saying? She held tighter to his hands so she wouldn’t fall off her chair. “You called them?”
“I called Bill one day at work. The conversation was short. No apologies, no accusations. We didn’t talk about the baby.” He shrugged. “I asked him if he could tell me how to get in touch with Lauren.”
“You did that?” She’d been married to him for thirty-eight years. How could they not have talked about something this important?
“Shane was gutsy and strong and a military hero, but he was dying inside for missing that girl.” His expression grew soft. “I asked myself how I could show Shane I loved him. How much I really love him.” He blinked twice, but his eyes remained damp. “Finding Lauren was the best thing I could think of.”
“Sam . . . ” She slid to the floor and crawled the few steps that separated them. She had never loved him more. “You were exactly right.”
“Only Bill told me he didn’t know where she was. She ran away after she had the baby. That was the end
of the conversation.” He eased his fingers along the back of her hand. “I guess we all paid for what we did to those kids.”
A small cry came from her. “If I’d known that was going to be my only grandchild . . . ” She hugged his legs and rested her head on his knees. “Oh, Sam. We’re still paying for what we did.”
“Yes.” Sadness choked his voice. “Sometimes I lie awake at night wondering if the baby was a boy or a girl, and where that eighteen-year-old child might be now.”
In that moment, Sheila felt the crack give way, felt her heart tear in half. She knew with utter certainty that she would never be the same. Because here was the truth. She wasn’t the only one who dreamed about the grandchild they’d walked away from, or who agonized at her son’s loneliness. She and Samuel had lived their lives in a sort of quiet denial, never talking about their biggest decision, never facing how it had for ever changed them all.
And what about the Andersons? How could Lauren run away and never look back? Where had she gone? A tingling started at Sheila’s forehead and worked its way down her face. Lauren would’ve only run to one place — Southern California. Because she would’ve been as driven to find Shane as he had been to find her.
This new realization added yet another layer to the hidden tragedy that was their lives. The only thing that could save them was if the broken pieces all found their way together again. Healing could happen if Shane found Lauren, if she and Samuel made things right with the Andersons. But how? How was that even possible?
Guilt and regret smothered her, made her wish with all her being that somehow that might really take place. But it was impossible. Miracles like that simply didn’t happen.
At least not to horrible people like them.
TWENTY-THREE
It was the right decision, but that Monday morning Shane could still feel the ache in his heart. He missed Ellen, missed the way she made him laugh and the animated way she entertained him with stories from her father’s world. Without her, the weekend had been quiet and uneventful. Shane didn’t need anyone to tell him how the next season of his life would go. It would be a lonely one, maybe the loneliest yet.
He pulled into the parking lot at Top Gun, killed the engine, and climbed out. The day was chilly, but the sky was a brilliant blue. He leaned against his car, crossed his ankles, and stared toward heaven.
“Okay, God, I’m trusting you.” He smiled, but it didn’t erase his sadness. “Show me what’s next.” He gave a salute toward the sky. “I’ll be on standby until then.”
He breathed in and headed toward the backdoor of the building. He needed speed, needed to buckle into a cockpit and fly like the wind through the forever sky. Maybe that would help him feel better.
It was 8:50 in the morning when he reported at the desk. He picked up a stack of mail and was on his way toward the instructors’ lounge when one of the guys behind the counter motioned to him. “Captain Galanter?”
“Yes?” He kept his eyes on the mail. There was a familiar envelope in the bundle, something from the office of Ellen’s father. The young man a few feet from him said something, but Shane missed it. He tucked the mail under his arm and frowned. “Sorry. What’d you say?”
“You have a message, sir.” He held it out. “She says it’s urgent.”
Shane walked back to the counter and took a small slip of paper. “Thanks.” He nodded at the guy, turned, and headed down the hall. As he did, he looked at the message. It was handwritten, taken early that morning. He read it: “Please call Emily Anderson in Wheaton, Illinois.”
Anderson? Shane came to a slow stop. Emily Anderson in Wheaton? He stared at the number and wondered . . . Emily? Emily Anderson? He leaned against the wall, dizzy with the thoughts racing through his head. Was it possible? The wild hope bursting within him wasn’t so much because of her last name, or even because she was from Wheat on. But because her name was Emily.
The name that —
He blinked hard and shook his head. Maybe his thoughts were fuzzy because of Ellen, or because it was a beautiful Monday morning and he couldn’t wait to get up in the sky. Either way he needed a clear head. Thinking about Lauren or the baby or anything from the past would only hold him back.
Her name had to be some sort of coincidence. Anderson was a common name and so was Emily. Still, he needed to call the woman. Probably a teacher, someone bringing a group of kids to Lake Tahoe and looking for an educational side trip. Happened all the time. He stepped into his small, boxy office and eased himself into his chair, all while reading the message one more time. It had to be about a tour group, he was convinced.
He dialed the number and waited. He would take care of the call, set up a tour date for the lady, and get into his flight suit.
All before nine o’clock.
Emily was typing another e-mail to her mother.
The e-mails and phone calls had given them a wonderful chance to connect, even before a face-to-face meeting. This time the topic was journalism, how badly she wanted to write for a newspaper the way her mother did. She was just finishing it when the phone on the desk next to her rang. She answered it, her eyes still on the computer screen. “Hello?”
“Yes, Emily Anderson, please. This is Captain Shane Galanter returning her call.”
She gasped, and then covered her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her reaction. There was still no way of knowing if she had the right man. Even so, her heart was in her throat, and she was on her feet. She paced out of the room and to the end of the hallway. “This is Emily.” A knot tugged at her stomach. “I’m looking for a Mr. Galanter. I’m just not sure I have the right one.”
“Okay.” The man sounded at a loss. “There’s only one of us at Top Gun, if that helps.”
“Well . . . ” She stifled a nervous bit of laughter. What if this was him? What if she was actually talking to her father — her very own father! — for the first time in her life? “Actually, I’m not sure that the Shane Galanter I’m looking for is an instructor at Top Gun.”
He chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me about the one you’re missing.”
“Good idea.” She liked him. He had a kind voice and a sense of humor. “My Shane Galanter has dark hair and dark eyes and he’s pretty tall. He grew up in Chicago and dated a girl named Lauren Anderson. Then the summer before his senior — ”
“Emily.” The teasing lightness in his voice was gone. In its place was a sense of quiet shock. “You have the right Shane Galanter. Now it’s my turn.” He hesitated. “Who are you?”
She stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. It was him! She’d found him! A smile pushed its way up her cheeks, just as the first tears filled her eyes. After all these years had it really been that easy? A matter of spelling his name right and finding him through the Internet? The story began spilling from her at record speed. “I’m your daughter.” A sound came from her, part laugh part sob. “I’ve looked for you all my life, only I was looking on the Internet and I was spelling your name wrong, until last week when I found my mother’s journals and I realized your name had two a’s and that’s how I — ”
“Emily?” He sounded breathless, almost doubtful. “Your mother’s name is — ”
“Lauren. Lauren Anderson.” She giggled out loud. “I found her five days ago, the same day I called you.”
“I just got the message. I . . . I can’t believe this.” His voice was thick, choked with what must’ve been almost overwhelming emotions. “So she did it, she gave you up for adoption.”
“No, not at all.” Emily exhaled hard. There were so many pieces to pull together. “It’s a long story. I’m not sure where to start.”
“I don’t know anything, Emily.” He laughed, his tone soaked in disbelief. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
“Okay.” She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. “When you and your family left for California, my mom was desperate to find you . . . ”
The story poured out in all its detail. All the wh
ile Emily was overcome by a joy that made her feel like she was floating. She’d found her dad! They were actually talking on the phone. It was more than she could imagine. She’d found both her parents in the same week. And now it was up to her to get the information to her dad so he could join them. He would come, she had no doubts. She’d asked for a miracle.
And God was making it happen.
TWENTY-FOUR
Lauren felt like she knew her daughter, and it had only been a week.
During that time over the phone, they’d filled each other in on much of what they’d missed, the facts they hadn’t known about each other. Lauren told Emily about her first trip out west, and how sick Emily had gotten.
“I thought it was my fault.” Lauren willed her voice to convey the depth of her regret. “When they told me you were gone, I knew I only had one hope left — to find Shane.”
She told Emily about coming to Los Angeles and finding an apartment and getting a job. How she’d been determined to finish college and start a writing career, and how every day along the way she never stopped looking for Shane.
Other times the conversation would be about Emily. Lauren learned that her daughter had a deep faith, one that colored everything she did, everything she felt. Emily shared the highlights of her childhood, the special moments at home and in school, and her decision to play soccer.
“I still play now, at Wheaton College.” There was pride in the girl’s voice. “Grandma says my dad was an athlete.”
“Yes.” Lauren’s heart felt scraped bare. Not only because of all she’d missed, but because Shane’s memory was alive and standing next to her all the time now. “He was a baseball player.”
They talked about Lauren’s parents and how anxious they were to see her, and about Emily’s place on the school news paper. But no matter how many times they talked or how often they exchanged e-mails, Lauren couldn’t really believe her daughter was alive — not until she saw her in person.