~ Awake, My Love ~

by

Judy Boettcher

Laney erased thirteen messages from her home telephone’s answering machine between Wednesday and Friday evening. All from Brad--all desperately pleading for her to call him back--all ignored.

She had promised Janeen she would try to invite Brad over on Sunday for lunch, but it didn’t appear she could pull that one off--not without speaking to the man first.

All Friday evening she slumped in front of the television, remote control in hand, flipping channels and finding not one thing to watch. Comedies weren’t funny enough, dramas weren’t as dramatic as her own life, and talk shows just reminded her she should call Brad.

Wandering into the kitchen to refill her glass with cola, Laney avoided the phone. She passed it safely by again on the way back to the sofa.

When she jumped at the soft rap on the front door, she almost dropped the glass from her hand. Plunking it down hard on the table, she winced at the door. Of course she would have to answer it. Of course she knew it was Brad. She had been waiting for him to show up since the tenth unanswered message from last night.

Primping her mussed hair in the mirror by the door, she squinted through the peephole. He faced down, but his short spiky dark hair was unmistakably Brad’s--the sight of him made her knees wobble. She unlocked the door, opened it and stepped back, gluing her eyes to his shoes.

"Laney, I’ve been trying to--"

"Do you want to come in?" she briskly interrupted, opening the door further.

He advanced across the threshold. "Since you insist so nicely, sure."

Ignoring the intended jab, she offered him a seat on the sofa with a swift wave of her hand.

Brad eased over onto the far opposite end of the sofa, and they both proceeded to stare at the television program.

"Would you like something to drink?" Laney asked, without taking her eyes off the hungry mother cheetah chasing down the doomed lame zebra.

"Laney, I--"

"Wait, Brad." She picked up the remote control and muted the volume on the television. "Okay. Now, do you want to say something to me?"

"Yes, Laney. I want to ask you to hear me out, and to... just look at me."

She let down her guard and flashed her gaze into his big brown eyes. Big mistake. Was that intentional? Did he know his dark eyes twinkled with a spark of green? She turned her attention back to the nature program--just in time to watch the zebra go down as the cheetah’s claws slashed at the maimed hind leg. She recalled Janeen’s words about how life was unfair.

"I’ve looked at you. Can you speak now?" She responded childishly and rudely, but after all, he insisted on the conversation by showing up on her doorstep.

Brad stared down at his folded hands in his lap. "Okay. I’ve been combing over the widow’s file, and for the life of me, Laney, I can’t understand why you’re so upset. I did not report anything to the police about Janeen. They don’t snag information from private eyes; they do their own investigating."

"I know." The cheetah’s cub now joined her mother in the long-anticipated meal. Laney took a sip of cola and held the glass up to Brad.

He shook his head, continuing, "Was Janeen convicted of the theft, Laney? Because I really do not know."

"You don’t know?"

"No. I mailed the report and that was the end of it. I send out reports all the time. It’s my job."

"So, you never stick around to find out if you cause any damage to innocent people with your reports?" Laney quickly changed the channel--the feasting on the poor zebra was too sad to witness--although she was glad for the starving cheetah cub.

"Was Janeen innocent?"

"Yes! Of course she was innocent. She wouldn’t lie--maybe back then she might have lied--she was a neglected and wild kid, but now... now that she’s been with the Lord for almost eight years, she wouldn’t lie now. And I believe her now, and I believed her way back then."

Brad turned again toward the television, watching explosive volcano lava flowing down a hillside, threatening the populated village at the base of the mountain. "As it turns out, this was my very first case, Laney. Maybe I was a little wet behind the ears, but I filed a clean report. I spoke with Emily Wilson. She was fully coherent and able to carry on a conversation. That’s all the insurance company wanted to know in order to pay off her claim."

"How nice for everyone then--everyone except Janeen. She ended up in a juvenile detention camp for two years. Two long, lonely years I lived without my best friend." Laney’s head collapsed into her hands as she broke into tears.

Brad scooted over next to her on the sofa. "That’s terrible, Laney, but please believe me, I had nothing to do with--"

She wrenched her shoulder free of his outstretched arm. "Brad, I’m going to cry now and I’d like you to leave," she sobbed, "please."

Brad stood and regarded the huge crevice that the molten liquid fire had engraved into the side of the mountain. He turned away, inched over to the door, and stepped out into the evening.

Not expecting him to give up so quickly, Laney lifted her head to say something else, but the door softly closed on her unspoken words. She clicked off the television, and--exhausted by four nonstop days of self-pity and high anxiety--lay back on the sofa and fitfully cried herself to sleep.