Page 73 of To the Moon and Back
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.”
“While you ate?” Brady’s tone was kind, his frustration with God seemingly on hold for now.
“Yes.” She turned to him. “The Psalms tell about the Word of God being like honey. My dad used to say a few minutes in the Bible was like dessert.”
“Hmm.” Brady’s expression grew softer. “Must have been a good dad.”
“He was.” She looked at the box again. “That bookmark was my mom’s. She loved to read. Her mother gave it to her when she was a little girl.”
“Must’ve been hard to let it go.” Sadness crept into Brady’s tone. “For the memorial.” He moved closer. The heat from his body warmed her.
She told him about the other items. The key chain and a dried flower her dad had given her mother the day Jenna was born. The pictures didn’t need explaining. They showed the reality of Jenna’s former life. Happy couple. Happy little girl.
All of life ahead of them.
