Free One Tuesday Morning by Karen Kingsbury Page A

her skepticism had been fueled by her parents' tragic deaths.
    And by every firefighter funeral since.
    For Jamie, a huge chasm lay between belief and unbelief, and there was simply no bridge great enough to span the gap. No bridge except God Himself. And as time went on, Jamie wanted less and less to do with God.
    This, then, had become the crux of Jake's prayers for his wife. That God make good on the promise that constantly echoed in his mind. That He might complete in Jamie that faith that began two decades ago at summer camp. Jake moved the razor down his chin. And every time he prayed for her, he'd been given a reassurance, a knowing, that felt heaven-sent. No doubt about it. Not only had God heard his prayers for Jamie, He was going to answer them.
    Soon.
    It was this knowing that convinced Jake he and God had a deal going. That Jake wasn't going anywhere, that his body wouldn't be the next one paraded in front of five thousand uniformed firefighters. Not when God was on the brink of using him to turn Jamie's lifelong doubts into the sweetest devotion.
    She was already changing. After all, she'd cared enough to buy Sierra a new dress. Jake straightened and examined his face for missed spots. Yes, Jamie cared. Just not enough to come to church with them. She'd left an hour earlier for breakfast and tole painting with a few of the firefighter wives. Twice a month on Sundays they met, giving her an excuse for two out of every four Sundays. The other two were family days, Jamie had decided. Time to hike or bike or play with the jet ski.
    “God can't expect you to spend every weekend in church, can He?” She'd joked with Jake about the subject a dozen times. But the bottom line was clearer than the sky above the city this past week. Jamie didn't want to go. And she didn't want anything to do with God.
    Still, she'd bought Sierra a church dress.
    That was better than the way she'd reacted a year ago when Jake started taking their daughter to church. He could still hear the frustration in her voice when they first discussed the issue.
    “It's not right to fill her head with fairy tales,” she had lowered her voice to a whisper so Sierra couldn't hear her. “She doesn't need make-believe stuff about a God who”—she waved her hands—“who might not exist.”
    Jake had stayed calm, his voice as quiet as hers. “What would it hurt? She'll draw pictures and sing songs and learn how to pray.” He took gentle hold of her shoulders. “Is that so bad, Jamie?”
    “Yes.” She stepped backwards and planted her hands on her hips. “It'll only disappoint her if something bad happens and … and God turns out to be just another fantasy.”
    “What if He isn't?” Jake had kept his distance, allowing her the space to process what he was saying. “What if God's real, Jamie. Do you really want to keep Sierra from knowing about Him? Just two Sundays a month?”
    In the end Jamie had agreed—on one condition. “Don't bug me about it, Jake. I'll find something else to do those Sundays, but leave me out of it.”
    Her words still stung, but she'd come a long way since then. For the past few months she would ask Sierra about Sunday school and listen while their daughter repeated her Bible story. Twice in the past month she'd even said she might attend Christmas service with them this year.
    And now the pretty new dress.
    Jake plugged in the curling iron and caught a glimpse of his simple gold wedding band. He loved her more than words could ever describe. Yes, Jamie's day of reckoning with God was coming. If his sense of the Lord's timing was right, it was coming soon. He slipped into a pair of new jeans and a pullover shirt.
    “Sierra!” He leaned toward his open bedroom door. “Beauty parlor's open.”
    “Goody!” She came running, all giggles and bouncing thick blonde hair. He never tired of her, never stopped marveling at the wonder of her life. She was only one day old when she first gripped his fingers, and he hers.