Page 81 of To the Moon and Back
Suddenly, Brady understood what Jag had told him. This was his place to remember. More times than he could count, he had come here to honor his mother, to recall her talking to him. I love you to the moon and back, Brady. To the moon and back. Yes, he had come here to remember.
Now it was time to leave with resolve.
Like Jag said.
Brady took a deep breath and felt an urgency rise within him. He had to exit this place, had to get out of the memorial. With a final look at the time stamp he hurried to the office. There they were. Two saplings from the Survivor Tree. Just like Jag had said. He carried them to his truck and set off through the city. He knew exactly where he had to go, what he had to do.
Minutes later he was knocking on the door of Cheryl and Rodney Fisher.
Cheryl opened the door. Her eyes lit up. “Brady! Why . . . what are you doing here? You look all healed up.” She stepped back. “Come in. Rodney’s in the other room.”
Brady was breathing hard, his heart and head pounding. He remembered a detail from the last time he was here. How Rodney had prayed that something would happen. Something that could only be from God. Like Jag, whoever he was, suddenly appearing.
Like Jenna.
He steadied himself.
“Mrs. Fisher . . . I want to talk. About God.”
“Hallelujah.” She whispered the word. Her smile was as warm as the summer sun. “I knew you’d ask one day.”
He stepped inside and like that his tears came. Quietly, without fanfare. They spilled from his eyes down the sides of his cheeks. “I . . . I have so many questions.”
Cheryl took him in her arms. “You came to the right place, Brady.” Then she looked straight at him. “Rodney and I . . . we have answers.”
Brady nodded and found his composure. He felt a peace and acceptance he hadn’t felt since Jenna left. And for the first time something told him the feeling wasn’t from the Fishers.
But just maybe from God, Himself.
• • •
ANSWERS WEREN’T ENOUGH.
That week fighting fires and responding to accident calls, Brady thought about the things he’d heard recently. First from Ashley, then from the Fishers. God was the rescue in hard times, not the reason for them. Jesus loved Brady enough to die for him. On and on it went. The people he loved had answered every question Brady asked, except the one that bothered him still.
Why?
Why did God take his mother when he was so little? Why did He do that to Jenna? And so, though Rodney and Cheryl had done their best to help Brady believe, he had walked away from their house that day unconvinced.
He couldn’t get past the idea that God could’ve stopped the tragedy, prevented the bombing altogether. A quick zap from heaven and the terrorist never would’ve made it to the Murrah Building.
No fertilizer bomb. No explosion. No devastating destruction.
Brady and Jenna would still have the people they loved. Same with countless others changed by that April day. Confusion about his questions consumed Brady’s every waking hour.
But they didn’t work their way into his bedroom until one stormy night later that week. Brady couldn’t fall asleep. His legs and head ached—something that had been happening less and less frequently. Every ten minutes he had to find a different position—his right side, his left. On his back with one arm over his head.
Whatever he tried he couldn’t get comfortable.
He couldn’t remember actually falling asleep, but in a blurry instant Brady was in the burning warehouse again. The one where he nearly died. Blazing fire exploded all around him and he was pinned beneath the rubble. Suffocating. Dying.
Help me! he cried out, but no one could hear him. What was happening to him? Why was he reliving the ordeal all over again? The heat grew more intense and Brady could see the skin on his hands start to bubble.
Help me, someone!
And then suddenly he could see his mother calling to him. Pretty and kind with the most loving eyes. And she was yelling for him, crying out for him.
“Brady! Come home!” She held out her hand, but it didn’t reach him in the fiery debris. “Please, Brady . . . I’m waiting for you! Come home!”
