The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
He delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
—Psalm 34:17-18Chapter 1
© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne
Joanna Berkley wiggled the gearshift into park and looked around. A new car was parked on either side of her own ancient Ford truck, making it look just clunky instead of nostalgic. Thank goodness the paint was only several years old, a birthday present from her oldest brother.
Joanna slipped out of the seat onto the ground, throwing her weight against the door to shut it. She sighed with relief, brushing at the wrinkles in her skirt. Neither teaching, nor coaching in a small town high school compared to the fast paced, luxurious life style she’d dreamed of while in high school.
Such a life of opulence, she was sure, would be boring.
And only in that life, or this life, she thought looking around, would her truck be out of place.
Taking two steps onto the sidewalk, she finally looked up at the imposing building before her. It reached high into the smog-lined sky, disappearing out of sight. Boring, she reminded herself, taking in the hundreds of gleaming glass windows.
Having driven into downtown Dallas only minutes before, enchanted as always by the jagged but beautiful landscape of the Metroplex, she was now jilted as she stood, one lonely creature underneath the mass of stone and glass.
The revolving entrance swept Joanna inside to the lobby. It was an opulent room, one designed to impress and intimidate. The ceiling of the lobby was high, enhanced by a large crystal chandelier dangling from the center, the quiet light dim compared to the sunlight that shimmered off mirror-like glass that graced the room.
So this was where Rod Kirkland had hidden himself for the last few years. This place he not only worked, Joanna thought, but thrived, arising to the proclamation of their senior class— Mr. Most Likely to Succeed —and her own understanding of his nature: if he wanted it, Rod went after it. If he didn’t . . . it was nothing.
Joanna found the receptionist's desk and asked directions to Rod's office, then went to the elevator for a ride to the 43rd floor. She watched the people milling around the room, showcasing their affluence and prestige in how they dressed, walked and conversed with each other.
Peering into the mirrors that lined the entrance to the elevators, Joanna studied her appearance. She was tall, 5'10, and had been since the ninth grade. Her arms and legs were strong and tan from coaching and playing softball. Her light brown hair was curled into a fashionable twist instead of the usual beret or pony tail. She had high cheek bones and hazel eyes accented by the careful art of make up she’d learned from her roommate in college.
The elevator arrived with a clipped melody of bells. Joanna stepped in and straightened the jacket of her navy suit, her stomach turning, worrying over the next hour. She stepped to the back of the elevator, and turned slowly to face the front. Her hands found the bar that ran waist level across the back and gripped, knuckles white.
Oh, Bethany, she thought, I need you now.
Upstairs, Rod sat alone in his office, preparing himself mentally for the meeting he had scheduled, a meeting he would have postponed indefinitely if the choice had been his. His blue eyes focused on the book in front of him, his senior yearbook. He stared down into the faces of the people he had grown up with, reminded of the times he had lived through, glad that they were long over.
Turning the page, he found what he was looking for. At the top of the page was a picture of himself as president and Jo Berkley as vice president of their senior class. She looked the part he remembered—athletic, proud. Her expression was pure Joe Berkley; the tilt of the chin, the slight impatient slant to the eyes, and the small satisfied tilt of her lips which was her attempt to smile.
The caption beneath read:
President Rodney Kirkland (on left) has served his school well during his high school career. A member of National Honors Society, Choir, Future Business Persons of America, serves as Homecoming King for the senior class, Latin Club, Class President his Junior and Senior year and participated in Varsity basketball those same years. He plans to major in Theology.
Vice President Joanna Berkley has also played a great role in the growth of Glendale High School in these past four years. She played on the Varsity Softball team all four seasons, School Spirit team, was chosen to the All-American Softball team her Junior and Senior year, holds a school record for number of runs in a single Softball Game and a school record for average number of runs in a single Softball season, and has been her class's Vice President since her sophomore year. She plans to major in Accounting and work internationally.
They will both be missed.
Rod closed the book and let the memories process themselves with the present. Her call had come as a surprise after the nine years since his parents had moved to Dallas, leaving him without a reason to return to the small town of his childhood.
Their relationship had been odd and strained from the beginning. His grandfather, as pastor of their church, had taken Joanna and two of her brothers into his pastoral care and made them part of his extended family. She was the product of a strained, what some would call dysfunctional, home life.
Jo had been a friend in that high school sort of way, connected through church, student congress, and classroom conversations. There had been a bond, a deep connection, but they’d been so competitive with each other, thriving in childish arguments and petty details. The only thing they ever seemed to agree on was the knowledge that the would never, completely, agree on the same thing.
Though his parents still carried a healthy relationship with her brothers, one who was now a minister himself and the other a missionary, Rod had purposefully not seen Jo in nine years. He tended to tune out news of her family as he did anything that had to do with Glendale or his alma mater. His only other connection to the Glendale High circle was his friend Steven Carson, but Steve had left Glendale the day after graduation and had never looked back.
Rod wished now that he had some insight into Jo’s last few years in life. He remembered that she needed a new atmosphere as much as he did, and hoped that she had moved on. He could see her in international business, feisty enough to win important accounts, smart enough to keep them, and competitive enough to move quickly up the ranks.
One would have thought the meeting would have been a welcomed break. After all, they had known each other most of their lives.
Their last words to each other had been hasty and hard. The loss of his grandfather had stirred the feelings bitter. Her relationship with his grandfather had been deep and when Rod decided not to follow his steps into the ministry after his death, she had not understood. She’d been dating some looser guy, following a path leading toward the one her parent’s had forged. He’d lashed out, meaning to be protective, and ended up hurting her as much, or more than she’d hurt him.
He supposed he was most afraid of just seeing her, seeing how her life had impacted her. Patterns ran deep in families. It was possibly the patterns of his own family had saved him, but her mother and father had been angry and bitter, selfish drunks.
He flipped the pages of his yearbook with a sigh and stopped when he saw a picture of Bethany, looking as beautiful as he remembered their class's homecoming queen. She had been one of the sweetest girls he had ever known, blessed with natural beauty inside and out. He suspected she had been Jo’s best friend because they complemented each other so well. Where Jo lacked polish, Bethany shined, and where Bethany couldn’t be firm, Jo was a tyrant.
He had only spoken to Bethany once or twice since last leaving Glendale nine years ago, and even that had been within months of parting. This time Bethany would not be there to mediate their talks. Could he talk face to face with Jo and not revert to the childish arguments they had once thrived on?
Ten years, he reminded himself. He’d changed a great deal in ten years.
“Mr. Kirkland,” his phone buzzed, “Ms. Berkley is here to see you now.”
Rod stood and walked to the oak door. He took a deep breath, and prayed . . . God, if I remember correctly, our last words were harsh. Please let the discomfort be minimal. For both of us.
“Hello,” Joanna said a little too brightly when Rod stepped from his office. He smiled as he looked her over, more then a little unsettled. He would have thought he’d prepared himself, but he wasn’t sure that he could have completely prepared for this . . . a mixture of memories, of present uncertainties.
She was, he thought, sleek and toned, looking the part of the executive he thought her to be. She looked calm from head to toe . . . except for the white knuckled hand that held her brief case handle and her clear hazel eyes, a mixture of worry and grit.
Rod stepped forward and gave her an awkward hug. The years of separation had stripped away even the small amount of rapport they had with each other. “Hi, Jo. It's good to see you.”
“It's good to see you, too.”
Once again Rod just watched for her reaction, even more unsettled when he was unable to tell. The old Jo Berkley would have dismissed him, taking over, moving into his office to start the meeting. The vulnerability in her eyes was ... unexpected.
Ten years, he reminded himself.
“Come on in. Would you like something to drink? Cola? Water? Tea—”
“Water would be wonderful,” she interrupted and watched as his obedient secretary stood and started to walk away, “but I don't want to be any trouble—”
“You're not any trouble, Jo,” Rod took her elbow in his hand and led her into his office. The door was shut, the water delivered and set aside by anxious hands, before he realized something was wrong. He’d chosen to sit beside her in the leather chairs that sat facing his desk.
It was Jo, however, that broke the silence. “No body calls me Jo, anymore, Rod. It's Joanna.”
Rod lifted an eyebrow and smiled, trying to make light of his mistake. “A part of growing up, I guess.”
Joanna looked at her hands as she turned the cool glass in her hands, reminding her of another time she had been sitting with a glass in her hands, dressed in black, as the past washed over her. The time between her life as Jo and Joanna.
“I guess you could say that. Nobody's called me Jo since Bethi’s . . . since Bethany died,” she looked up at him, grief in her eyes. “I guess it started with the older ladies when they tried to comfort and everyone else followed. No one's—”
“What do you mean, Bethany . . . ?” He stopped himself, stunned by the look of pain and reality in her eyes. Bethany . . . Bethi, Jo’s best friend, confidant . . . .
For a minute, Joanna just watched him, confused herself, while Rod seemed to literally swallow the news. Bethany had been a good friend to everyone. She’d loved easily.
Finally, Joanna looked away in pain, setting the glass on the end table, her hands unstable. “I thought you’d heard. Your mother . . . she sent me a card. She has every year. Bethany was in a car wreck four—almost five years ago. A drunk hit her on the passenger's side and she flipped twice,” Joanna stopped her speech for a moment and stood, walking over to the picture window that allowed view of the Dallas city-scape. “It . . . killed her and the baby . . . .”
As her voice faded into the silence, Rod stood and went to stand beside her. He found himself rocked—not sure if his emotions stemmed more from seeing her hurt or from his own foolishness.
His words jumbled in his mind and came out the same way, “I'm sorry . . . Joanna, I . . . I never knew.”
Joanna stared out the window for several seconds while she dealt with the emotions. Rod fought against the urge to touch her, to turn her into his arms and hold her. Such a touch . . . he just didn’t know if it would be welcome or not. They were strangers. For everything between them, ten years had made them strangers.
“You know . . . Dallas never looked so small from the bottom—from way down there . . .” she responded absently. She felt Rod's eyes on her and turned slowly, meeting his gaze with growing strength.
“Rod, I came because I thought you would want to help out with the arrangements. I didn’t realize . . .” she frowned over the words, “I didn’t know you wanted so little to do with . . . the past. I’m sorry for bothering you—”
Rod did touch her then, grabbing onto her hand as she tried to dash away. They both looked down at their hands, hers smaller, darker than his.
He dropped his hand, met her eyes with his, “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.”
“Rod, if Bethany were still . . . We didn’t have our five year reunion because she was planning it and she was so excited. The plans just fell apart and maybe at the time I wanted little to do with our old alma mater, so I do understand. There’s about 10 of our graduates still in Glendale that have committed to help out when they can, and being that I have the summer off, it’s fallen to me to make all the plans. I just don’t have any experience doing anything like this . . . you know, like a big production, but I can.”
She still lives in Glendale, Rod thought as he watched her. Suddenly, the fact that he knew so little about her made him feel foolish and set his mind spinning. Was she an accountant? She had the summer off. Did that mean she was teaching? What was she doing with her life? It seemed she had the advantage again.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“I didn’t say that—” he held up a hand to hold off any argument from her. He was surprised at the sudden need he had to argue with her again. He continued slowly, watching the odd uncertainty shift in her eyes. “Joanna . . . you’re right. I haven’t given old Glendale High much thought, but not because I don’t care. I think it’s being pointed out to me right now that I should have handled things differently.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and turned away out of frustration. “Those weren’t good times for me, there that last year, but I want to help. Maybe it’s time I faced those memories. We’ve worked together before.”
“We nearly killed each other before.”
“Maybe,” he smiled and faced her. “But we’re both adults now. The penalties are much higher. We did a good job, planning things bigger then this.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Not so long ago,” Rod corrected gently, “or maybe long enough ago that we can do things better. Start over, without the past following us around.”
Relief made her smile easier, and she sighed. She’d come to see Rod only because so many people had suggested she do so, but it was a relief to share the responsibility and the grief. “It won’t take much time. It’s just . . . details.”
“And handling details is what I do best,” he assured as he studied her smile. He was not sure he had ever seen her smile as she was now, relieved and slightly uncertain.
“How about we talk about the details over lunch—my treat?” Rod suggested, hoping to pull her away from the pain. “I don't have any meetings scheduled for this afternoon, so we could find a calm place to work. I would like to catch up with you.”
Joanna watched him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He no longer seemed to carry anger against her. Maybe. “That would be . . . nice.”
“Give me a minute, and I'll be ready to go.”
Joanna put the loose papers back into her briefcase slowly, keeping hers eyes away from him. Years ago she had been attracted to this man, like every other girl at Glendale High, and he had seen her only as another girl . . . nothing, the word taunted her, even as she wanted to leave it in the past. She had been nothing to him then—someone he was forced to associate with more then he had wanted. Much more.
The pain had never completely receded. Oh, she had tried. And she wished. But the feelings were returning, just as strong. She could not afford to let herself be hurt again.
She would not be nothing to anyone again.
An hour later Joanna sat across from Rod with their business finished, as they slowly pieced their lives together. He noted that she smiled easier then she had in high school.
“I took an extended class load and went to school anytime the doors were open that last two and a half years of school. I felt so lost that I had to keep going.”
“You parent's were pretty bad by then, weren't they?” Rod's words were not stated as a question, but in fact. Those last painful words he had thrown in her face nine years ago flew back, you aren't the only one around with problems, Joanna. Maybe if you'd grow up you'd realize the rest of us have dreams and hurts just like you . . .
Rod reached across the table and gently took her hand in his. She looked at the consuming way his covered hers and forced herself to remain in control. “I wish I would have said these words years ago, Joanna, but I didn't . . . I'm sorry. I wish that I could have been there for you instead of being so ready to get out of Glendale that I missed everything else. You were hurting, needing support, and in the middle of goodbyes, I reacted poorly.”
“You just reacted like anyone on the defense,” Joanna defended him. “I remember very well what I said. I tried to step in where it wasn’t my job . . . God has dealt with me about that. I never stopped to understand . . . you. What you do with your life was none of my business and I shouldn't have been trying to determine what God wanted for you. God certainly gave you a talent for business and has blessed you. Look how far you've come.”
Rod shook his head, “I reacted out of anger because you hit something in me that was troubling me, something I didn’t want to face. A big part of me felt guilty for what I felt was letting my grandfather down, but I still think God was telling me to wait. I wasn’t ready,” Rod argued and sighed as he pulled his hands away from hers. “Will you forgive me?”
Joanna smiled slowly, and nodded. “Only if you forgive me.”
“I forgave you a long time ago, Jo,” Rod nearly whispered, surprised at the way his emotions reeled as he looked into her eyes. For the first time in his life he allowed himself to admit that he liked what he saw in them. There was a rich depth inside of her that he had never wanted to recognize before.
“So you graduated in three years. What'd you do then?” Rod asked, trying to lighten the uncomfortable air once more.
“I went back to school for a little while. Ran from job to job, adventure to adventure, not wanting to deal with . . . family . A typical dysfunctional response. Dad left first and then mom. We sometimes we go more than a year without hearing from either one of them. I moved home to help straighten things out, and Bethany convinced me to stay, then she . . . died. My world was falling a part around me. It was hard to put things together again and even harder to let go of the anger.”
For a minute Rod studied her, seeing the earnest life in her eyes. She watched him too, and saw the moment he smiled, his eyes holding joy, peace . . . and greatest of all, his understanding. “So, you think you've finally found your place, where you want your goals to be?”
“Yes . . . and no, but I’m working on it. That’s a big step for me.”
Rod studied her serious face for a few minutes before looking away. The silence grew thick all over again, but he did not have the words, nor the strength to stop it. He watched her spin the ice around in her glass several times . . . around . . . and around and around . . .
Finally he looked up as the waitress placed the check upside down on the table. He grabbed at it first, determined to pay for her dinner. Without a word, he dropped a the money on the table with the ticket and pushed back.
“Are you sure you don't want me to pay for mine?” Joanna asked, but Rod only shook his head and walked around the table to pull her chair. Feeling him behind her, Joanna waited for some movement, but felt none. “Rod?” she said hesitantly. She stood gracefully and turned, her heart in pain . . . from what she was not sure.
“I don’t know. There’s just . . . years between us, Jo. It’s hard to piece it together. The last time I saw you, you were leaving Glendale as fast as I was, toting Doug Fletcher with you.”
Hearing the name of such a man made Joanna laugh. It delighted her to realize she had given up at least one set of feelings for a guy who didn’t care for her, “That was a long time ago.”
“For you it was.”
Five minutes later, his hands on the wheel of her truck, the full impact of Rod's words were just settling. Joanna stared at him, her eyes wary. “Did you really think I would stay with Doug Fletcher?”
Rod shrugged, his eyes on the road. “You had been dating for awhile. And,” Rod frowned at the memory and worked it over in his mind. “He was there that day. The day we moved.”
Standing in the driveway with her. Mocking him. Mocking her.
“We dated on and off, though I guess I did get dependant on him for while. It really didn’t add up to much time at all in the long run,” she admitted, “and I didn't date him until after high school. He wasn’t very supportive of me . . . not when things got bad with my family. Not that I was supportive either, at the time.”
“And you returned to teach at Glendale High. I had always hoped, I guess that you would get away.”
“I did for awhile.”
“You don’t feel stuck?”
Joanna frowned over the question. “Not in Glendale.”
She turned to look out the window. In her grief, Rod only saw strength and determination. There were no tears—or hints of tears in her eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked softly when Rod slowed to stop for a red light.
“I thought we'd go back to my apartment to iron out these last few details. We'd certainly get more done away from my office. Sometimes when I’m there I think the whole world needs to speak to me.”
“I think I would like to go home now,” Joanna told him without looking at him, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. She could not pin point why or when the feeling had crept in, but suddenly she wanted to bolt. To run fast and hard as far from him as she could. “Lunch was wonderful. And we got enough done that I have more to do at home. And we caught up with each other. With the driving it’s all added up to being a long day.”
“But you just got here.”
“I still think it would be best if I left now. Remember, I'm the one with the long drive home.”
“If you're so tired maybe you should stay here,” Rod suggested, for some reason not ready for her to leave. The day had been an emotional drain on her. “You could stay at mom and dad's house. They wouldn't mind.”
Still not looking at him, Joanna shook her head in determination. “No, I couldn't do that. I . . . I need to be home tonight to call my little league team . . . .”
Rod sighed, and slowly maneuvered the truck into the turning lane. Thinking over their conversation he came up with nothing that would make her go home early . . . unless he had gotten too personal. All ready, in the two hours they had been together, he had brought up Bethany's death and her parents problems. Had she taken it as a criticism that he was surprised she was in Glendale still?
Neither one of them spoke for the remainder of the trip. When Rod pulled into an empty space and put the truck in park, Joanna immediately opened her door and slid out. She said nothing to him when he stepped down from the driver's seat, his eyes intent on her.
“When will we get together the next time?”
Joanna only slightly hesitated as she climbed into the seat he had vacated. “I don't think there will be a next time.” Rod was surprised, but she gave him no time to respond.
“You're life is so busy, Rod, and we're so different. It was wrong of me to come and ask for help. I know that last year was bad for you—more than you think I do, but it was magical for me. High school was the only thing that got me out of my house. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
Rod grabbed her hand before she could shut the door. He was used to arguing with her, but not to being blind sided. “Wait a second, Jo. I said I would help you and I'm willing to take the time out for this. It's my homecoming too, and my life isn't so busy that I can't help out a friend.”
“Exactly,” Joanna said with a bitter laugh that bordered on a sob, full of hurt and confusion. She pull her hand curtly away from his. “I don’t know what I was thinking, calling you, coming here. We don’t have respect for the other. You can’t even get that I'm not Jo anymore.”
Reaching for the door, Joanna pulled it closed with a jerk and threw her truck into reverse.
HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!
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