Beyond Tuesday Morning by Karen Kingsbury

Author:Karen Kingsbury
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2004-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Jamie reported to St. Paul's the next day, but for the first time she didn't stop and look at the gaping hole where the towers had stood. Her head was still spinning from the night before, from the new feelings stirring up her heart and soul. How could she care so much about a man she'd only known a few days? Was she using the situation to avoid Aaron Hisel? Or was Clay Miles really as wonderful as he seemed?

Allen, a young man in college, was the first person she talked with that morning. His father, an investment broker, was trapped near the top of the North Tower when it collapsed. Allen had a small photo of his father, one that he wanted to leave as part of the memorial. Jamie helped him find a spot for the picture, and then asked him if he wanted to talk.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “I don't talk about it much. It happened, Dad's gone, end of story.”

Jamie leaned against one of the thick white pillars that separated the memorial along the perimeter from the sanctuary area of the chapel. Memories of Clay and her dinner the night before came to mind and she willed them away. “Allen, would it be okay if I prayed for you?”

The surprise in the young man's eyes changed to anger, then vulnerability. “The last time I prayed was the morning of September 11.” He clenched his jaw and gave a shake of his head. “Apparently God didn't hear me, so I stopped talking.”

“But you're here.” Her eyes found the pew where she'd sat with Clay the other day. Was he in training now? Would he call her again the way he'd promised? Was she crazy? She blinked hard and focused on the young man.

Allen looked over his shoulder at the tables of memorabilia. His eyes were damp when he found Jamie's eyes again. His chin quivered. “I don't know how to move on.”

So many visitors to St. Paul's faced the same thing.

Their loss was so great, they practically limped through the doors. Anger, hurt, and grief kept the calendar at a standstill. Regardless of time's incessant marching, every day was September 12—and without God's divine intervention it always would be. She led the young man to the closest pew and sat down with him.

Her mind drifted back to the night before, to something funny Clay had said about his jester hat. She tightened her hands into fists. Focus, Jamie … focus.

“I understand.” She looked at the stained-glass window across from them. “My husband was a firefighter; he died in the South Tower.”

The young man looked at his knees. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. He's in heaven; I'm sure about that.” She told him about Jake, about finding the faith her husband had always held to, how she wouldn't have survived without that faith.

Sometimes even while she was counseling at St. Paul's her mind wandered. But always she would rein in her thoughts and focus on the matter at hand. Usually the distractions came because of Jake.

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