To the Moon and Back

  She lowered her hand. This time she eased her fingers between his, but she focused on a spot on the floor. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes again. “We . . . whatever we have . . .” She shook her head. “It isn’t going to work.”

  He needed to sit down. “I’m . . . sorry, I . . .” His legs buckled and he dropped to the picnic bench.

  “Brady!” She was instantly beside him.

  He hated this. Hated his weakness. “I’m . . . okay.”

  “You’re not.” She put her arm around his shoulders. “We can talk about it later.”

  He couldn’t let his body beat him. Not now. He gripped the edge of the bench. “I’m fine . . . we can talk—” Dizziness swept over him. He was wet and shivering. He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Jenna . . .”

  “What can I do?” She sounded anxious again. “Should I call someone?”

  “No.” He was light-headed, trying to grasp what she was saying, why she was willing to let things fall apart just because school was starting. The thoughts chased each other around his mind, making the dizziness worse. He was so thirsty. More than ever in his life. “Water. Please.”

  He could feel her get up, hear her take a few steps. But then she stopped. “It’s all buried. We have nothing.”

  Brady drew a few breaths. Deep as he could get them. What was he supposed to do? The last thing he wanted was a crew of paramedics running down the bike path, trying to rescue him. He was fine. He had to be fine.

  He was still hanging his head, still trying to stop the rotating. An idea hit him. Something that couldn’t hurt, given the situation. He tried to concentrate. Tried to stop the dizziness twisting his insides. God, if Jenna is so sure about You, fine. If You’re real, get me out of here. Give me the energy to get up. Make my head stop spinning. Then I’ll know.

  “Brady?” She was still worried. “Can you hear me?” Jenna was sitting beside him again.

  Thirst was still an issue, but he wanted to answer her. He blinked and his eyes opened. He blinked again.

  The dizziness was gone.

  He sat straight up and felt his heart skitter into a strange rhythm for a few seconds. What was this? How could the faintness be gone seconds after he asked God to prove Himself?

  Coincidence .

  Brady breathed deep and this time he felt his lungs fill with air. The way they were supposed to. His energy was returning, that was all. Random perfect timing.

  He put the thought out of his head and turned to Jenna. “That was weird.” He tried to smile. “It hit so hard.”

  “Like the storm.” Her face showed how worried she was. “You okay?” She had her phone out. “I can call for help.”

  “No.” Brady stood. His balance was almost perfect. “I’m not dizzy anymore.” He looked at the sky. It was still stormy. “We should go.” He reached for her hand and they made their way through one of the gaping holes in the side of the structure.

  At the same time a park truck drove up. The driver saw Brady and Jenna and stopped. “Everyone okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” Brady felt well enough to walk on his own. As he made his way toward the pickup he noticed something. His shaking legs, his shallow breathing. The weakness and spinning. All of it was gone. Brady pointed to the collapsed shelter. “We rented bikes, but . . . they’re buried.” He looked at the driver. “Could you please give us a ride back?”

  The man dropped them off at the parking lot, where the bike stand was also in a heap of rubble. Brady opened the door for Jenna, but he was too tired to help her into the truck. It took him nearly a minute to walk around the front of the rig and climb inside.

  On the drive home, several times Jenna urged Brady to see the doctor.

  “I’m okay, Jenna.” It was the truth, at least physically. If she wanted to worry about anything, she should worry about his heart. About both their hearts.

  After that they drove in silence. Not his choice. This wasn’t how he wanted the day to finish. But she didn’t seem to feel like talking. He wanted to hear more about what she was thinking, and why she thought this beautiful thing they’d found had to end.

  As they pulled up to Allison’s house, Brady didn’t walk her to the door. Jenna seemed in a hurry, and she said something about needing to get out of her wet clothes.

  Brady’s desperation mixed with panic. This couldn’t be the end. “Tomorrow?”

  Jenna nodded. “Yes.” She watched him for a long moment. “Ten o’clock?”

  “Ten.”

  “Thank you.” She hesitated before climbing out. “For saving my life today.”

  He tried to find a lighthearted smile. But it wasn’t possible. “It’s what I do.”

  She nodded, never breaking eye contact. Then she managed a little wave and mouthed her next words. “See you.”

  Brady wanted to scream. Why did they have to end the day now? Like this? She could’ve come to his apartment and they could’ve watched a movie or played backgammon. He wouldn’t push things physically, if that’s what she was worried about. They could’ve sat at the table and talked for all he cared. Anything but spend the evening alone when she was right here.

  When it was still summer.

  But she was already walking toward the house. He sighed, frustration taking jabs at him. “See you, Jenna.”

  She was too far away to hear his words. She waved once more before she went inside, and with no choice left, he drove home. He could feel her pulling away. Like some dream, destined to end too quickly, their time together was almost over.

  Sure, she could tell him why tomorrow. They could work out the details and come to an understanding. But that wouldn’t change the fact.

  Jenna was leaving.

  She was going back to Ohio and that would be that. When he was home, he stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling. That whole talking to God and his symptoms going away was nothing. Brady was strong. His body was fit. He would’ve gotten better with or without his challenge to God.

  If God were real, this wouldn’t be happening. He never would’ve allowed them to find each other, only to take Jenna away again.

  Brady blinked back tears. Once Jenna was gone, he would fall back into his same routine. He could already see it: working and volunteering and trying to make his way past April 19, 1995, 9:02 A.M. But this time missing her and longing for her wouldn’t last eleven years. Brady was sure.

  It would last the rest of his life.

  21

  J enna was grateful Allison had her Bible study that night. She couldn’t have stayed up chatting, pretending everything was okay. Not when her heart was breaking. Allison would’ve seen through her façade and asked her about it.

  And Jenna wouldn’t have known what to say. She was still processing the answers herself.

  But by the next morning when Brady picked her up she couldn’t run from the truth anymore. She had the answers, and they weren’t good. She wore the key necklace today, the one she’d had engraved years ago. The one she would give to Brady, no matter how much her heart was breaking.

  If only he shared her faith. If only he had found his way back to Jesus. Every day Jenna had tried to gauge Brady’s interest in God. She would talk about something being a blessing or she would refer to how the Lord was working in her life. Every mention of anything spiritual only irritated him. Confused him.

  Jenna could tell. His eyes gave him away. Since yesterday’s storm, Jenna had replayed over and over the promise she’d made to God. The promise she’d made to herself. Brady was nothing like Dan, but the fact remained: Brady was determined to spend his life far from the Lord. He had alluded to that just before the tornado.

  Which meant one thing.

  She had to keep her word. Even if walking away from Brady Bradshaw was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do.

  From the moment Brady picked her up, his steps were sure, his face alive with energy. Not the broken guy from yesterday’s storm experience, for sure. As she climbed into his tru
ck, she ran her fingers over the engraved numbers on the key. She had no idea how he would take the news. She would have to tell him sometime today. Later. So they’d have at least a few good hours.

  He smiled at her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Her heart hurt. The subtle smell of his cologne mixed with the leather from the seats. She returned the smile, but the whole time she could feel the sadness coming.

  If only he didn’t take her breath away every time they were together. She stared at her hands for a moment. God, change his mind about You. Please, get his attention.

  Before he pulled away from the curb, he glanced at her necklace. “I like that. A key.” He seemed so much stronger today. “It’s different.”

  “Thanks.” She looked out her passenger window. Different . The word lodged in her soul. That was the problem now. As much as they had in common, when it came to what mattered most they were different.

  Their plan today had been set since the beginning of the week. They had decided to go to the memorial. Brady wanted to see about getting a sapling from the Survivor Tree for Amy, Ashley’s niece. And Jenna needed to see her parents’ memorial boxes. The way they looked with the photos and items she’d brought from home.

  Still, the whole day seemed like a last-ditch attempt to Jenna, on both their parts. Maybe if they spent a day at the place where they had met they would figure out a way past their differences, a way around the logistics.

  And they’d never have to say goodbye.

  Before they reached the memorial Brady stopped at the coffee shop, the one they’d visited together all those years earlier. On the way in, he put his hand ever so lightly at the small of her back. The feeling was electric. One thing was sure. No matter what happened after today, Jenna would never forget him.

  Never love anyone the way she loved him.

  Everything about being back in the café put Jenna’s heart on high alert. She had to fight to keep from drowning in Brady’s presence. The way his voice soothed her soul, the feel of his arm against hers as they waited for their drinks.

  Since Brady had been well enough to get around he had teased Jenna that she was a coffee addict. “It’s a teacher thing,” she always told him. As for Brady, he had given up coffee his first year as a firefighter.

  Now, though, when she ordered a caffe breve, he stepped up beside her, his eyes sparkling. “Make it two, please.”

  “Yes, sir. Two.” The guy behind the counter entered the order.

  Jenna looked at Brady, confused. “Two?”

  “One for me.” He elbowed her gently in the ribs. “I gotta broaden my horizons a little, right? Get out of my box.”

  Something in his tone made her laugh, and he started to laugh, too. And Jenna realized something. They hadn’t done much of this recently. Between his injuries and rehab and the desperate feeling that they were running out of time, they hadn’t laughed.

  The exhilaration and joy that came with it felt wonderful.

  When their coffees were ready Jenna put a cardboard sleeve on her cup and Brady did the same. He winked at her. “You’re the expert.”

  “Definitely.” She loved this, the way she felt around him. She couldn’t help herself. That was the problem: this feeling, the way she fell into his gravity, could never be enough. She would keep her promise to God, no matter what.

  Even if it meant losing him.

  As they walked out of the coffee shop, Brady put his arm around her. The touch of his fingers against her shoulder sent chills down her. If she stayed another week, no matter what her convictions, Jenna was certain of one thing.

  She’d never go home.

  As soon as they were in the truck, Brady took his first sip of coffee and started to make a face. But then his eyebrows raised and his expression relaxed. “What in the . . . Are you kidding me? No wonder I gave it up.”

  “What?” She laughed. “You mean because it’s so good, right?”

  Another sip and Brady sank back in his seat. “This is amazing.” He pointed at her, his eyes sparkling. “When I’m addicted a month from now, it’ll be your fault.”

  “Guilty.” With everything in her she wanted to stay here, hold on to the moment. Forget about the conversation that would come later. But even as she laughed again, she knew. There was no way to save what they had found.

  They reached the memorial ten minutes later, and the place was nearly empty. As they walked onto the grounds, Brady stopped. He looked around and breathed deep. “I can’t believe you’re here. The two of us like it was that day.”

  The smell of jasmine filled the air, the summer sun warm on their skin. “I remember everything about it.” She faced him. This couldn’t go on. Jenna had to say something. “Brady . . . we need to talk.”

  He searched her eyes, and gradually his smile faded. A dozen thoughts seemed to flash in his expression. Was something wrong? How could she ruin a perfectly good day? Didn’t she know how he felt about her? Without a single word, Jenna could see it all. But he said only “Sure.”

  They didn’t have to talk about where they would go, which of the benches they would sit on. Without a word they started walking toward the Survivor Tree. They still had their coffees, but with his free hand, Brady took hers.

  She didn’t resist. There were only so many hours like this left.

  They made their way up the stairs and sat on the bench closest to the tree. For a few minutes they stared at it, drinking their coffee. Lost to yesterday.

  When they finished their drinks, Brady took both cups to a nearby trash can. With his every step, her every heartbeat, Jenna could feel the sorrow build. If only there were some other way.

  Brady returned and sat facing her. He put his arm up along the back of the bench and watched her. He seemed in no hurry. “What’s on your heart, Jenna?”

  So much. She wanted to grab his hand and run as far away from here as she could, to a place where Brady’s eyes could finally be opened to God. Or where she could break down and cry for a hundred days.

  The last thing she wanted was to tell him the truth.

  She didn’t look away. First things first. “Brady . . .” She drew a shallow breath and pushed ahead. “I have to leave tomorrow morning. I found out last night. We have a mandatory teachers’ meeting Monday.”

  His expression was something Jenna had seen before. When she was in high school some kid had walked up and sucker punched a boy. Jenna was right there, headed to lunch. She saw the whole thing. The approach, the swing. And the way the other kid looked after the hit.

  Pale and shocked and in pain.

  The way Brady seemed now. He fell forward a little and shook his head. His voice was quieter than before. Like he couldn’t get enough air to fully speak. “No . . . warning?”

  “I’m on call after the first of August.” She exhaled, desperate for things to be different. “Today’s the fourth, Brady. The only reason I didn’t leave sooner . . . was you.”

  He stood and paced a few feet toward the tree and back again. “I thought school starts in September.”

  “Not in my district.” Jenna felt her stomach tighten. If only that were all she had to tell him.

  Brady took his seat again. “So that’s what this is all about? The way you . . .” He glanced around, like the words might be swaying from the branches of the old elm. “I don’t know, the way you’ve been different this week?”

  She stared at him, into his eyes, willing him to understand. “That’s not why.”

  This time he didn’t say anything. He just waited, his eyes on hers. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

  “Brady . . . every time I mention God, you get mad. Things get tense.” She wasn’t finding the right words. “It’s not like you don’t let me talk about Him. But you just . . . you don’t believe, do you?”

  Shock and anger painted broad strokes across his expression. “I can’t believe you’re asking me.” He shook his head. “You already know the answer, Jenna. It’s practically all we talked about the day we
met.”

  “Exactly. That was a long time ago, Brady. I’ve changed since then.” Jenna didn’t mean to raise her voice. But the memorial was still nearly empty. She needed him to understand how difficult this was for her. “I hoped you had, too.” Tears clouded her vision. “I prayed you had.”

  Brady looked sick to his stomach. He released a sound that seemed part disbelief, part heartache. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He stood and walked to the tree again. For a long time he stayed there, facing the trunk, his back to her. A couple times he seemed to grab a deep breath, probably struggling for control.

  The ground could’ve opened up and swallowed her and she wouldn’t have noticed. All she could feel was her world falling apart. Tears ran down her face. God, why? Please, would You help us? How am I supposed to leave?

  With all her heart, Jenna wanted to go to him. But what would that do? She couldn’t take him in her arms and kiss him, couldn’t comfort him. The truth was there now, out in the open for both of them to see.

  Goodbye wasn’t far off.

  Finally he returned to the bench. His eyes were red and damp. “Come on, Jenna.” He held out his hand. “Let’s go see your parents’ memorial boxes.”

  She took his hand and all of her senses were fixed on that one feeling. The warmth of his fingers between hers. “Okay.” It was time. This was why she’d come to Oklahoma City. She would see the project through, even as her heart was breaking.

  They stood and walked into the museum, through the building and into the area with the individual glass memory boxes. The moment they entered the room, Jenna saw the one for her parents.

  Brady stayed with her as she went up and put her hand over their names. Neither of them spoke. Not for a long time.

  “Tell me.” Brady’s voice was soft, kind. “Why these things?”

  Jenna fought the tears gathering in her eyes. She steadied herself. “The little Bible in the corner, that was my dad’s. He kept it in the kitchen.”

  Brady listened, his eyes on the objects in the glass boxes.

  “He had his own personal Bible.” She managed a smile. “It’s in the top drawer of my dresser. But that one”—she pointed to the small leather-bound book—“that was the one he’d pull out during dinner.”