Remember Tuesday Morning Part 5

But he looked like Jamie too, enough that CJ and Sierra were clearly brother and sister. Sierra was an amazing big sister, playing with CJ every afternoon when he came toddling down the stairs after his nap. Sierra would take him out back and run through the sprinklers with him, letting him catch her and swinging him around until his laughter filled the yard.

Jamie smiled at him, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. For today, they were all well and whole. Sierra happy at school, CJ safe in his bed, and Clay alive after another dramatic day of police work. Nothing about tomorrow was promised to them; Jamie understood that. But as long as G.o.d gave them the gift of today, she would cherish it with all her heart.

She stood and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. As she did, she remembered Alex and what Clay had said about him, how he wouldn't let anyone inside. Jamie leaned against the stair railing, and slowly an idea formed. Alex's dad was FDNY, same as Jake. Jamie knew the last names of the firemen her husband had worked with, and Brady wasn't one of them. Odds were the two men rarely crossed paths, but the possibility remained. On the bigger calls, more than one station always responded. Maybe Jake had known Ben Brady.

It had been a year since she'd pulled Jake's old journal down from the top shelf in the hall closet. She lived with the wisdom Jake left behind, so she didn't need to look at the journal more often than that. Besides, Clay had suggested that looking at the book too often might not be healthy for her. Jake was gone, and this was her new life now. With him and CJ and Sierra. Jamie agreed wholeheartedly and she understood. Clay wasn't jealous of her dead husband. He only wanted her to be healthy about where she was now, where they were as a couple.

But this was different. The house was quiet, and Sierra wouldn't be home for another hour. She didn't want time alone with Jake's memory; she wanted to see if by some chance he had known Ben Brady. Jamie gave herself permission to check. She took soft steps toward the hall closet, opened the door, and carefully got the book down.

Often when Jake wrote in his journal, he talked about incidents at work, firefighters he'd come across, and what his conversations with them had stirred in his own mind. There were, of course, a number of entries where Jake talked about his best friend, Larry Henning. The two had died together in the Twin Towers, that much they knew. Their helmets were found in the same section of rubble more than a month after 9/11.

But what about Ben Brady? Was there a chance Jake had ever met the man or written about him? Jamie took the journal to a bay window seat where the afternoon sun was streaming in just so. Despite the warm afternoon, the news about the gunmen had left her cold inside. She took the seat, and warmth radiated through the window and into the muscles along her back.

She put the journal on her lap and opened the first page. Reading one entry after another would get her nowhere today, and it would leave her in tears. The way it always did when she allowed herself to go back to her life before September 11. No, this would be more of a scanning, an exercise of her left brain. In case the name Ben Brady was somewhere in the pages of Jake's extensive writings.

The pages weren't exactly ancient, but they had a brittle feel to them now. Jamie took great care as she opened the book and allowed herself to read the first page.

Jake Bryan, the inscription read. A journal for notes and observations, a trail so that someday my Jamie might look back and read, and that by doing so she might "believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of G.o.d, and that by believing you may have life in His name." - John 20:31.

Jamie read the words a second time. It was always strange and uncanny what Jake had written, as if he had somehow known he wasn't going to survive his days with the FDNY, and more, that the words in his journal, the words etched into the borders of his beloved Bible, might one day lead Jamie to the faith he had always prayed she would find. Which was exactly what had happened.

The slightest remorse seized Jamie, and once more she wished she'd found that faith while Jake was still alive. But this way, her change of heart would give them one more reason to celebrate someday when they were reunited in heaven. She steadied herself and turned the page. In keeping with her determination, she resisted the temptation to read each entry. Instead, she ran her finger down the page, searching for just one word.

Brady.

She was nearly fifty pages into the book and unaware of how much time had pa.s.sed when suddenly the name practically jumped out at her. She gasped and let her eyes find the beginning of the entry. It was almost impossible to think Jake had known him, or that the name truly represented Alex's father. But there it was, right in front of her. The entry started on the previous page and was dated a month before 9/11.

Sometimes I come across someone in the department who personifies courage and commitment, the sort of firefighter people talk about with words like bravery and loyalty, strength and honor. That's the way I feel about my friend Ben Brady from the station a few blocks from mine. We worked a call together yesterday, and I found myself watching him, the way he took charge of the blaze and set an example for the men from his firehouse. Ben and I know each other. We've talked a number of times. But yesterday we talked on a deeper level, about what drives us.

Jamie could hardly believe what she was reading. Not only had Jake known Alex's father, but also he knew him well and even looked up to him. She kept reading, drinking in every word.

I wasn't surprised when he told me he was a Christian. "I take G.o.d with me on every call," he said. I liked that. It's the way I feel, the way I live. But I guess I never heard it put that way before. He said something else too. He told me he knows he can only do so much to keep the city of New York safe from fires. "When you live with constant danger," he told me, "you have to remember John 16:33." He winked at me. "That's what keeps me sane. John 16:33." I was familiar with the verse, so I understood. Jesus used that part of Scripture to tell his friends a simple, profound message: "... in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

He also told me he hoped one day his son would embrace the verse. "So far, my family has had very little trouble. Life is good, love is sweet, and time seems like it'll last forever." His eyes held a bittersweet shine. "We all know that isn't true. Especially working for the FDNY."

His words stayed with me all day and even now, as I write, I can hear them in my heart. He's right. Today is like that for me and Jamie and Sierra. Life is good, love is sweet, and time seems like it'll last forever. But it won't. It never does. And so we stay strong in the hope of John 16:33 ... because in the end, Christ has overcome the world. That's what I have to tell myself every now and then.

Jamie let the final words of his entry fill her, consume her until she could barely breathe. Every now and then. The way they all needed the words from John 16:33.

And what about the connection with Ben Brady? Jamie had known the young K9 deputy for a year, known all that time that his firefighter father had died in the collapse of the Twin Towers. But never had she even considered looking in Jake's journal, checking to see if, by some strange act of G.o.d, the two men might've known each other. Even then, she never could've imagined a find like this one - an entire entry about Jake's admiration for Ben Brady and his thoughts on Ben's wisdom.

An urgency came over her, the same urgency she'd felt each day when she reported for her volunteer work at St. Paul's Chapel. In her years in that position, G.o.d had used her to help hundreds of men and women find a way out from under their anger and grief. With G.o.d giving her wisdom, she had helped people learn to live again. She was finished with her days at St. Paul's, but now here was Alex Brady. A part of their everyday lives. Or at least a part of Clay's.

She read the journal entry two more times, and goose b.u.mps flashed across the length of her arms and legs. Once more, G.o.d had provided her with the wisdom she'd need to help someone find peace after the pain of 9/11. The journal entry would give Alex a window to his father that he'd probably never had before. And maybe in the process it would slice through the barriers that stood between Alex and the rest of the world. Maybe the news would whittle away the walls and allow him to find the life and love in Christ that had clearly marked his father's every breath. Yes, that's what G.o.d wanted her to do with this information. She could hardly wait to show Clay the journal entry. Certainly he would agree with her, that G.o.d had brought Alex into their lives for this exact moment, for this specific reason.

Now she only had to pray for the right timing.

She truly intended to put the journal away. After reading through the entry about Ben Brady the third time, she was about to close the cover when another line caught her attention, something about Sierra and how their daughter had worked her way so quickly into his heart. Jamie settled in over the page and clung to every word. One entry led to another, as she did what she hadn't planned to do this afternoon.

Made her way back to her old life.

When the front door opened, she barely heard it, caught up in something Jake had written about one of their weekend trips to the beach and how it felt to ride their WaveRunner across the harbor with Jamie at the controls, pushing the machine to its limit, and how - "Jamie?"

She straightened, lifting her eyes to the sound of Clay's voice. Something wet was rolling down her cheeks, and her eyes felt thick and heavy. She was crying, and she hadn't even known it. "Clay." She closed the journal and set it on the window seat beside her. "You're home early."

"Captain told us to come home and get some rest." He wasn't looking at her, but at the journal. Slowly he came closer, the hurt in his eyes so raw the pain radiated from him. He stopped and turned to her. "What're you doing?"

Jamie wiped at the wetness beneath her eyes and sniffed. "It's not like it looks." She didn't have to defend herself, but Clay had a right to wonder. She stood and went to him. "I wondered if maybe Jake knew Ben Brady, you know, if maybe he might've written about him in his journal." She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her black jeans.

"Thousands of men work for the FDNY," his tone was kind, but wounded. "Don't use that as an excuse to - "

"I found something." She turned back to the window seat and brought the journal to him. She flipped through the pages until she found the right one. "I didn't believe it either, but it's there. Read it."

Clay released a heavy breath, but then he took the book in his hands and read the entry. His expression changed, and when he finally spoke to her, a sense of wonder filled his voice. "That's amazing." He closed the journal and handed it back to her. "I can't believe you would even think to look."

"G.o.d must've put the idea on my heart." Her cheeks were nearly dry now. "When the time's right, I want to share this with Alex. This could turn things around for him."

A skeptical look flashed across Clay's face. He framed Jamie's face with his hands and ran his thumbs lightly beneath her eyes, wiping away what remained of her tears. "Seeing you like that, sitting here crying, reading his journal," his voice was not much more than a whisper. "It breaks my heart, Jamie. It makes me feel ..." he looked away from her, at the fraction of sky through the same window where she'd been sitting. "Like I'll never be more than second-best."

In the nearly four years they'd been married, Clay had only brought up this terrible feeling of his one other time - when he'd found her outside their house, lost in thought on what would've been Jake's birthday. What she'd told him then still applied today. She tried to find the right words to express her heart. "Clay," she waited until she had his complete attention again, "Jake was a part of my life for twenty years." Her tone was kind, begging him to understand. "You can't ask me to walk away from that."

He looked like he might say something in response, or try to debate her on her decision to spend the afternoon reading Jake's journal. But instead he took the journal from her and set it carefully on the floor beside them. Then he pulled her close and smoothed his hand along the back of her head. "I'm sorry. It's hard for me."

She held onto him, gripping his strong body to her own as fresh tears filled her eyes. "I don't know what to say, baby. It's hard for me too."

From the far end of the house they heard the happy voice of Sierra, home from school. "Mom? Dad? I aced my math test!"

Jamie pulled back and wiped her eyes again. "Time got away from me. That's all." She reached down, picked up Jake's journal, and took a few steps toward the stairs. "I'm sorry, Clay. Really."

He held her eyes a few seconds more, nodded, and turned to intercept Sierra. "All right! Did you bring it home?"

"Yeah, it's in my backpack."

Jamie realized what Clay had done. By going to meet Sierra, he'd given her unspoken permission to collect herself, to return the journal and find her way back to the here and now, and she loved him for it. But even as she hurried up the stairs and set the book back on the top shelf of the hall closet, even as she ran a washcloth over her face and pulled a brush through her dark hair, she had to ask herself if this wasn't what Eric had warned her about. That by taking up the cause of Alex Brady, she might wind up lost somewhere back in yesterday - a place she had a hard enough time leaving four years ago. At the time, she'd thought little of his warning, but now she didn't have to ask if the possibility existed.

The tearstains on her cheek told her all she needed to know.

TEN.

The memories of Holly had hung around longer than usual, through the night and waiting there in the wings while Alex had shown up on the hostage scene and quickly taken matters into his own hands. Poor Clay hadn't known what to make of him, sitting in his squad car with Bo on the ground beside him, barely saying more than a few words about the incident.

What was he supposed to say? He hadn't liked seeing the bad guy lying on the ground bleeding out, but someone had to stop him. This was what he'd committed his life to doing, getting criminals off the street, making his father proud. Doing his part to keep families from being ripped apart the way his had been.

Sure, he'd acted on instinct, taking Bo and slipping toward the back of the parking lot. But he'd had a feeling about the parked cars, and as he made his way closer he was sure he saw someone move inside the middle one. By the time the second gunman sprang from the car shooting his gun, Alex was ready.

The way he'd been ready since the moment he was sworn in as a Los Angeles County sheriff's deputy.

Clay had thought Alex was quiet because of the shooting, but that was only partly it. The shooting was a necessary act, proving he had been right where he was supposed to be. He felt bad about taking the guy down, but what sort of crazy person would dare leap from a hiding place and start shooting at the backs of SWAT team officers? Crazy guy like that wouldn't think twice about killing again, whenever the system let him out.

The distance in his eyes had been about more than the shooting. The reason he didn't have much to say was because of Holly's memory, because the act of taking out the criminal was the very reason he'd given her up. Normally he could push her memory away, tuck it safely back into a cold, airless vault in his heart where it would never see the light of day. But this time her memory hung around, her voice talking to him as he drove into work that morning, the feel of her hand in his so strong she might as well have been sitting beside him as he went out on patrol. The only time he didn't catch himself thinking about her was during the call, while he sped to the scene to provide backup, and while he took care of the bad guys. The minute the danger had pa.s.sed, she was back again, her clear blue eyes burning a painful hole in his heart.

Now it was noon Wednesday, and he was heading to work again. His sergeant had told him maybe this wasn't a good day for overtime, what with the drama from the day before. But Alex wanted as much overtime as he could get. Every hour on the job helped push memories of the past a little further away, back where they belonged.

He parked his squad car, climbed out, and let Bo free from the backseat. They were into September, and the Santa Ana winds were picking up. He searched the mountains that ringed the area looking for signs of a brushfire. There were none. "Come on, Bo. Let's get it." Together they walked in, and from the moment he entered the meeting room he knew something had happened. Guys were talking in whispers, getting their coffee, and finding their folding chairs without the usual loud joking and relentless ribbing.

"Somebody wanna tell me what's going on?" Alex stopped, and Bo immediately heeled at his side. Alex looked at the faces of the guys around him. "Anyone?"

Clay rounded the corner and stopped. He was the first guy to make eye contact with him since he'd walked through the door. "Brady ... we need to see you in the office."

Alex racked his brain, trying to imagine what might've happened to cause this sort of reaction among the special forces teams. Had someone seen him parked outside the REA headquarters? Was his job on the line for breaking department protocol?

Inside the office, Clay and Joe leaned against one wall, and behind an oversized desk sat three of the department's highest-ranking bra.s.s. Clay shut the door behind them, and Alex remained standing. One at a time, he looked at the eyes of the men in charge. He waited until one of them spoke.

"Brady, we have bad news." One of the department's captains pressed his lips together.

Was it about his mother? He talked to her every few weeks, but never for very long. Her new husband had money, and the two of them were always going out or heading to some fundraiser or benefit dinner. She was an escrow officer now, busy with her own life. She understood how he felt about his job, how it was everything to him. But now had something happened to her too? His thoughts raced through his mind at breakneck speed.

"The suspect you shot at yesterday's standoff?" the captain frowned, his voice deeply serious. "He died this morning. We just got word."

Alex felt the loss of life instinctively, in a part of his soul where death of any kind would always hurt, always chafe against the ideal. He cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

"This means an investigation, of course. Purely standard procedure." The commander in the group folded his arms across his chest. "And for you, Brady, it means two weeks' leave." Alex felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "Two weeks, sir?"

"Two weeks to clear your head, man." Joe slid one foot up the wall and leaned on his knee. "It's a good thing, Brady. Believe me."

"We'll keep you posted throughout the investigation. It's pretty open-shut. We'll let you know when the final results are put into a report." The captain motioned toward the door. "That's all, Brady."

Clay led the way, with Joe and Alex right behind him. The three walked down the hall to a different spot, a debriefing room with a small table and only six chairs. Again, Clay closed the door behind them, and the three of them took seats. Alex planted his elbows on the table and raked both hands through his hair. His remorse was quickly becoming something more like anger. "Did I ask for a vacation?" He spat the words at Clay and Joe, then tossed his hands and slammed himself back in his chair. "I shot to kill, like I've been trained to do in that situation. I don't like it, but I had no choice. So why punish me?"

"Calm down." Clay was usually the levelheaded one, but there was a simmering anger in his voice now too. "This is standard procedure when a deputy kills a suspect. You know that."

Alex released a hard breath through clenched teeth. "It doesn't make sense. I save a bunch of guys from getting bullets in their backs, and I'm kicked out for two weeks. How's that fair?"

"It's a vacation, Brady." Joe laughed, but he sounded incredulous. "Make the most of it. Go see your mom or something."

"I can't leave Bo."

"So fly Mom out here. Wouldn't hurt you to spend a little time away from the office." Joe bent down and patted Bo's head. "Bo here feels the same way, right, Bo?"

The dog c.o.c.ked his head to one side, and his ears came forward. But he didn't bark. He wouldn't without a command from Alex.

"Look, I'll have the most input on the report." Clay's anger was gone now, and in its place he sounded tired. "Obviously, I'll explain that you saw movement in a car at the other side of the parking lot, and you pursued the situation as part of your command to provide backup."

Alex raised one eyebrow. "What about my implied a.s.signment by the side of the building?"

"That was before you saw movement in one of the parked cars." Clay said the words like they were fact, and they were. But the way he was wording his description of what happened meant there was no danger of Alex being reprimanded for acting on his instinct rather than by the book. Basically, Clay was going to bat for him in the biggest case of his career to date. Clay wasn't finished. "I'll explain that while you were pursuing the movement in the parked car, a suspect burst from inside the car and began shooting at the backs of your fellow deputies. At that time," Clay's look grew more intense, "and only after you saw the suspect start shooting, did you fire your gun."

Joe watched the exchange between the two, doubt never once flickering in his expression. "You K9 guys have two choices. Shoot 'em or dog 'em. This time you had to do both." Joe shrugged one shoulder. "Captain's right. Open-shut case. Take the two weeks, then throw yourself back in the saddle."

Alex was still reeling from Clay's description of the events. They weren't false, and they didn't exactly stretch the truth. Everything happened so fast that day, he really wasn't sure whether he saw the suspect's gun first, or heard the gunfire first, or whether they both shot at the same time. In any case, his actions had been entirely warranted.

"I'll finish my part of the report by confirming that a number of SWAT deputies could've lost their lives that day if not for your quick and accurate shooting." He motioned to the others in the next room. "Every one of them on the scene would say the same thing."

"Thank you, sir." Alex kept up the formality because the matter was serious. But he had never felt Clay's friendship more than at that moment. Bo pressed in against his leg, as if to say it was all going to be okay. They could take two weeks off and survive. "How am I supposed to spend my time?"

"I have an idea." Joe took a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. "LAPD's doing a session on K9 training all next week, noon to four. I called, and they'd love to have you."

"Tell him what they said." Clay allowed the hint of a smile as he stretched his arm around the back of his chair.

Joe chuckled. "Apparently, the LAPD's heard of you, Brady. The guy told me maybe you'd like to teach the course."

The compliment hit its mark. It felt better than Alex might've imagined and took away some of the ache of knowing his bullet had killed a man. He didn't bother containing the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. He and Bo were building a reputation among good guys and bad. Don't mess with a deputy and his dog. The fact made Alex hungry for patrol time, anxious for the next backup call. "Training's good, but ..." he had to be careful with his words. "I'm concerned about the REA. I have a few leads, guys. I think we can catch them before they strike."

"I thought I talked to you about that." Clay sounded like a weary older brother. "SWAT's aware of the REA. We're watching them, Brady. We know where they're meeting. Leave it to us."

Alex stopped himself from saying anything more. This was the beginning of fire season, and the REA was primed for a hit. He'd been in contact with Owl, but the meeting had been postponed till tomorrow night. Alex still planned to go. What he did on his off time was up to him, as long as he didn't break any laws.

"Do me a favor, then. Keep an eye on the Oak Canyon Estates, will you? A fire there would be huge."

"Brady ..." Clay didn't need to say anything else.

"Yes, sir." Alex worked his jaw one way and then the other. "Am I allowed here at headquarters?"

"Not until we get the report in." Joe felt bad for him, Alex could tell. "Look, man, don't you surf?"

Alex worked to control his frustration. "I do. A few times a month ever since I moved here."

"So go to the beach." Joe shrugged his shoulders. "A little K9 training, a little time in the sun. Doesn't sound that bad if you ask me."

Clay's face softened some. "Come for dinner Sat.u.r.day, okay? Jamie's cooking her world-cla.s.s lasagna."

"We'll be there for sure. The kids love Jamie's lasagna." Joe headed for the door and slapped Alex on the shoulder. "Come on, Brady, stop pouting. It's just two weeks."

"So?" Clay followed Alex, but he stopped at the door. "You'll be there?"

Alex reminded himself of the promise he'd made, that whenever he was invited, as far as it was possible, he'd say yes. So that he wouldn't lose himself completely. He nodded and tried to let a little kindness into his voice. "Yeah, Sarge, thanks. I'll be there." He felt the resignation come over him. "What should I bring?"

"A suntan." Clay grinned once more as he and Joe left the room.

Alex realized he'd been holding his breath, and he exhaled long and slow. A guy was dead because of his gun, and that would stay with him. But he hadn't had a choice, and it wasn't fair that he was being taken off the streets - even for two weeks. What if a showdown happened with REA? If anyone should be in on the arrest of a bunch of cowardly arsonists, it was he and Bo. He looked out the window at the tree branches blowing in the distance. The wind had let up, but not for long. It just took one strong day of Santa Anas and the REA could make their move.

He stood, defeated. "Okay, Bo, let's get going."