Danielle Steel: Answered prayers

“I wish I could come too,” Faith said softly. But they both knew she couldn't. All she could do for him was be there in spirit, and they both knew after his trip in March that there would be no way for him to call her, only to send her a message via circuitous routes and people. “Let me know something when you can.” She would be heartsick for him in the meantime.

“I promise.” They announced the plane then and he took out his passport and his boarding pass, and she had to leave him at the security checkpoint since she wasn't traveling with him.

“Brad, take care. Try to relax. You can't do anything till you get there.” That was the worst of it, and they both knew his son might be dead when he did. It was beyond thinking. “I'll go to church and pray for him as soon as you leave.”

“Light a candle for him … please, Fred …,” he said with tears in his eyes as they looked at each other. Her whole heart was his, and there was no way for her to say it to him.

“I will. I'll go to church every day. Just know that he'll be okay … try to believe that….”

“I wish I could. Oh God … if something happens to him…” As much to silence him as to bring him comfort, without even thinking, she stretched up toward him, and he had the exact same instinct at the same instant she did. Without hesitating, he pulled her into his arms, and kissed her on the lips. And for an instant they forgot the entire world, as they clung to each other and kissed. She looked startled when he pulled away, and so did he, but he didn't apologize to her. She was convinced it was her fault, and then without saying a word, he kissed her again. “I love you, Fred.” It was the outpouring of nearly forty years of loving her, and the past seven months of growing ever closer to her. She loved him too, but even now she knew that it was something they could never have.

“Don't say that… I love you too … but we can't say that, we can't do this … I have no right to …” He silenced her with another kiss, and she started to cry. “You'll regret this. You'll hate me for it after this is over. We can't ever do this again.”

“I don't care. I need you, Fred. I really need you. And I love you. I want to be there for you too.” He was like the boy he had been when he had broken his arm when he was twelve. It was Faith who had held it for him when her mother drove him to the emergency room, and he had made her swear she wouldn't tell anyone that she had seen him cry.

“I'm here for you … I always will be … but I can't steal you from someone else, Brad. That's wrong.”

“We'll talk about it later.” He didn't want to miss the plane, he couldn't. But suddenly, they had a lot to resolve, and to think about, and he had no idea when he'd see her again. He could be gone for months, and now this would be hanging over them until he came home, and God only knew what horrors would have happened by then. “I just want you to know I may be half out of my mind, Fred. But I'm not crazy. I've wanted to do this for a long time. I just didn't think it would be fair to you.” It wasn't, to either of them. It was forbidden fruit, for both of them.

“I've been praying that this wouldn't happen. It's my fault. I shouldn't have …” And with that, he kissed her one last time and ran. He looked back over his shoulder once and saw her crying. He waved, and then he was gone. And Faith cried all the way back to the city in the cab. They had done something terrible, she knew that. She had allowed him to cross the line of friendship, not only allowed him, but provoked him to. There was no doubt in her mind that it was her fault it had happened. And she knew that when he came back, they would have to take back everything they had said and done, and promise not to do it again, or they could never see each other again. It was one more grief to add to their worries about Jason. All she could do for him now was pray.

She got out of the cab at St. Patrick's. It was eleven o'clock at night, and there were still people milling around, mostly tourists, as Faith stepped inside. She went straight to the altar of Saint Jude and lit a candle, and then she got on her knees, bowed her head, and cried. She had the rosary in her hand that Brad had given her for Christmas. It seemed a sacrilege now to be holding it, after the sin she knew she had just committed. He was a married man and they both knew he was going to stay that way.

She knelt for an hour, praying for Jason, and for wisdom and courage for Dylan, and peace for Brad as he made his way to them. She left the church after midnight, and went home in a cab. She let herself into the house and walked up the stairs to her room, looking as though someone had died. She was devastated by everything that had happened, the terrible news, the worry, the shock she saw in Brad's eyes, and the terribly foolish thing she had done, which she knew was so wrong. No matter how much she loved him, she had to disappear from his life. She knew that now after praying. Saint Jude was the patron saint of impossible causes. She had no choice. She was dangerous for Brad. She stood in the darkness in her room for a moment and then turned a single light on, as Zoe came out of her room and stood across the hall, watching her. She hadn't seen her mother look like that since Alex had walked out on her months before.

“Are you okay, Mom?” she asked, looking worried.

“No,” Faith said sadly, with a look of total devastation. And without another word, she quietly closed the door.

23

BRAD DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO CALL FAITH WHEN HE switched planes in London. He had to run to another terminal, and he barely made the plane. He had managed to call Pam, but there was no news from Dylan or anyone else. And he sat on the flight to Lusaka looking like a wounded man. Most of the time, all he could think of was Jason. His imagination had run wild with him since he'd heard the initial news and nothing more. And the rest of the time, he thought of Faith, and wanted to reassure her that what they had done wasn't wrong. But there was nothing he could say. She would just have to hang tough and believe in him until he got home. He had no idea what they were going to do, but there was no question in his mind that he was in love with her. He had known it in his soul for a very, very long time.

He slept for part of the flight, and arrived in the morning, and changed planes again, to a miserable egg crate that would take him on the last leg of the trip. And this time, when he arrived in Kalabo, there was no van waiting for him, and no Jason or Dylan. He hired a man with a truck to drive him to the game preserve. But as they drove through the town, he saw what had happened. The roof of the church they'd been restoring in Ngulwana had fallen in, and the steeple with it. Just looking at it, he started to cry.

“A bad thing happened, Bambo,” the man driving him said, as Brad told him to stop. “Men got hurt bad. Four of them.” Brad nodded. The term the driver had used for him was “Father,” a gesture of respect.

“I know. One of them is my son.” The man only nodded in answer, as Brad went to look for someone to tell him where the wounded men were. And finally he found one, a tribesman wearing shorts and sandals, with scars on his face. He pointed to a building where the men had been taken. And as soon as he walked in, he saw women crying, and children squatting, and others shooing flies off the faces of the injured men. He found Dylan kneeling beside Jason, among them. Jason was unconscious and there was a tremendous blood-soaked bandage on his head. Dylan stood up instantly and collapsed sobbing in his father's arms. Dylan was so exhausted he couldn't stop crying. The only good news from what Brad could see was that Jason was still alive. But he appeared to be close to death, and Dylan told him that one of the others had died several hours before.