Ever After (33 page)

It was fitting, really. That the trail of tears they’d walked would end and begin here on this day, Memorial Day, the day when Justin would always be first in their minds. As long as she lived she would remember their summer together. He had given her happily, but he had promised her more.

And now, because of him, she and Joe had found that elusive something, that thing that for a while seemed lost for all time.

And maybe somewhere down the road, they would even find ever after.

F
ROM THE
A
UTHOR

Dear Friends,

Thanks so much for journeying with me through the pages of
Ever After
. I learned much about myself and about love as I wrote this book. I learned about sacrifice and patriotism. Without a doubt, I learned that I have a deep-seated respect and gratitude toward the men and women who serve our country through the armed forces, and for their families — all who sacrifice some, and some who sacrifice all.

My family often teases me when I write a novel. They sneak into my writing room with a cup of tea or a bowl of grapes or a sandwich, and they wonder at the tears in my eyes. “They’re make-believe people,” my husband tells me.

But not to me.

In my heart, they live and breathe and move, and when I write, I feel like a reader. The story is always entirely a gift from God, and me, the humbly grateful soul who gets a first peak at it. But this story was different. I wept more than ever before while writing
Ever After.
For the first time since I started writing books, I had to keep a box of tissues on the table beside me. One morning Kelsey walked in.

“Hi, Mom. Do you need anything?”

“Hi.” I turned to her, a tissue in one hand, tears streaming down my face.

“Oh. Sorry for interrupting.” She gave me a strange look. “But … uh, can I get you anything?”

“Yes.” I looked at her through clouded eyes. “Counseling.”

And that’s how I felt through the writing of this book. I was happy and joyful with my kids and family one minute, and then five minutes later I’d be at my laptop weeping over the loss of Justin Baker and the complexities of war. My emotions were so strong, and the story so vivid, that one day after breaking my personal record for words written in a given day, I found my husband and told him, “I love writing more than breathing. I just have to tell you. I absolutely believe this is where God wants me, and I love what I’m doing more today than ever in all my life.”

Which is a good thing, since I’ve got lots more books ahead, God willing.

But the depth of my emotions made me sit back and ask myself where the feelings were coming from. And that’s when I realized that they came from my gratitude for the men and women who fight for and defend our country. The story of Justin and Emily is all too real for thousands of people across our great land. Sacrifice is very much a part of living life as an American — and a story like
Ever After
lets us take time to remember that, to acknowledge it.

This book so completely filled my heart that I wrote it faster than any other. Like a living picture, it poured out of me in just five days. Five days. I was gripped by the story, and all I could picture was that in many ways, there was nothing fictional about Justin Baker’s story. Like all of you, we know young men and women serving our country, people who need our utmost respect and support. People who lay down everything out of devotion to America.

If there was a point, a message I pray you received from
Ever After
, it was this: Love is not possible without sacrifice, and sacrifice is not possible without love. Isn’t that what Jesus taught? He died on the cross as the greatest sacrifice, the greatest gift of love, and it’s through His grace and salvation that we can do anything good and lasting.

Regardless of our differing political views, we must — as Americans — agree to pray and be grateful for the people who put their lives on the line so the United States can remain a free nation. I found myself loving Justin for who he was and for all the tens of thousands of young people he represented. These people are the heartbeat of America.

The cost of freedom is great.

Our family heard that message on Memorial Day this year, just as I was finishing the story of
Ever After
. At a quiet military cemetery in our town, I stood in dark sunglasses next to my husband and kids, crying silently through the entire ceremony. I was struck by the pride in the hunched over World War II Veterans, and the deep pain still in the eyes of the Vietnam Vets. I watched the flag being raised over the cemetery at the end of the service, and I clutched tightly to my family, thanking God for the privilege of living in America.

I pray that you might understand love and sacrifice a little better for having read
Ever After
. If you aren’t familiar with Jesus Christ and His sacrifice on the cross, or if you’d like to know more about how you could receive His gift of salvation, please contact your local Bible-believing church. You could also write to me and put the words, “NEW LIFE” in the subject line. I’ll be happy to send you a Bible and pray for you, that you’ll find salvation in the only One who can give it.

The gift is free to you, but it was never really free. Jesus paid the price.

In the same way, living in the U.S. is free to all of us, but freedom is never really free either. A cost is being paid every day by the military men and women and families in our midst. Let’s not forget that.

If you are among those serving our country, I thank you. With all that I am, I pray you will know how grateful I am, how grateful our family is, and how often we pray for your safety and success. Likewise, if you are among the hundreds of thousands of family and friends of those serving, my heart goes out to you. Thank you for allowing your loved one to serve and to sacrifice.

The price you are paying has not gone unnoticed.

You see, my little Austin — eight years old — is a kid like Justin Baker was. He plays army games and talks about “trying out” for the army one day — so that he can be among the best soldiers fighting for the United States. “I wanna keep America safe,” he’ll tell me.

He’s just a kid, and I’m sure his interests could change over the coming years. But today, I see his tender heart and his great conviction, and I know — already I know — the great sacrifice it would be to take him to a recruiting office and let him begin a soldier’s journey.

So for now I hold on a little longer to all my kids, and I remain grateful. Grateful to a God who would give us a land called America where we can live and serve Him and exist in freedom. And grateful to this country’s military families. I pray for God’s hand of protection and blessing on you all.

One more thing. You might remember at the front of this book, I dedicated
Ever After
to the memory of soldier Joshua Dingler. I learned about Joshua long after I finished writing this book. But the more I found out about Joshua, the more I discovered that his life had an uncanny resemblance to my fictional character, Justin Baker.

Like Justin, Joshua left behind a girl he planned to marry. He went into battle proud to help a nation find freedom, and in his brief life he was known for the way he helped other people. Like Justin Baker, the real-life Joshua Dingler was remembered by an entire city at his funeral. The day of his memorial service, thousands of people lined Highway 92 from the Pickett’s Mill Baptist Church to the cemetery. People holding flags, men saluting from the bed of a truck, and endless rows of men and women with their hands over their hearts.

But Joshua Dingler is not a fictional character. He is real, and I pray that this book brings honor to his memory. What defined Joshua was not his death in Al Mahmudiyah, Iraq, south of Baghdad, August 15, 2005. For that reason, please visit my website at
www.KarenKingsbury.com
and pray for the military members represented there. Also, please send in your photos and bios of your loved ones serving our country. Check my website for details.

Finally, as always, I’d love to hear from you. My website is growing constantly and has become a community of readers and people like yourself. There is a link where you can post a prayer request or pray for others in need, and there are links for book clubs and readers looking to connect with each other. I’ve also included a blog with constant journal updates and a look into the writer’s life, as well as my life as a wife and mother. It’s my way of helping us all feel like friends.

There are also contests all the time. One ongoing contest is this: When you finish reading this book, lend it to someone who hasn’t read one of my novels. Then email me and write, “SHARED A BOOK” in the subject line. In the message, tell me the first name of the person you shared with and why you shared the book. You will be automatically entered into a drawing that will take place each spring. The winner will bring a friend and spend a day in the Northwest with me and my family. Check my website for details, updates, or changes to this or any contest.

In the meantime, know that I am praying for you and yours. May God’s face shine upon you. Until next time,

In His light and love,

Karen Kingsbury

B
OOK
C
LUB
Q
UESTIONS

Explain Lauren Gibbs’s feelings toward the war at the beginning of
Ever After
. What had shaped her viewpoints?

Do you think it would’ve been possible for Lauren to continue living in Fallon without spending additional time in the Middle East? Why or why not?

Discuss Shane Galanter’s feelings toward war and the military at the beginning of
Ever After
. What had led to his viewpoints?

What are some of the differing opinions in the United States today regarding war in the Middle East or the defense of the country? Discuss.

Share an opinion that is different from yours regarding this issue. What do you think might lead someone to have this opinion? How can you better understand that person?

Explain how it is possible to have differing opinions and still be like-minded on the bigger issues. How did Shane see this as a possibility for him and Lauren early in the book?

Describe the character Justin Baker. What made him such an amazing young man? Why would a young man like Justin want to join the armed services? What characteristics do you see as common in the men and women you know who serve this country?

Give examples of Justin’s character, and how Lauren, Shane, and Emily could see that character in action during the summer when he and Emily were dating.

Why did Justin feel strongly about serving in Operation Enduring Freedom, and the war in Iraq?

Why did Lauren feel she had to return to reporting on the war? What did she expect to find when she returned, and what did she pray for?

What was the epiphany for Lauren, the turning point that broadened her viewpoint on the war? Explain that scene and the emotions Lauren felt.

What emotions and feelings did Lauren have when she witnessed Yusef killed by a sniper? How did she feel about the war then, and her prior reporting on it?

Based on Justin’s emails, photos, and firsthand accounts, what were his feelings toward the war? What were his feelings toward the Iraqi people?

How did Emily react to the news that Justin had been killed? Did it change her opinions on the validity of the war? How did Lauren react?

Explain Shane’s feelings as he received word about Justin’s death. What did he feel was the one enemy that could threaten a soldier? Why?

How did Shane find his way back to having purpose in his position as an officer in the military? Explain his feelings when Justin’s body returned home in a flag-covered casket.

Explain the support Justin and his family received during the memorial service and graveside service. When have you seen that sort of outpouring of support for a member of the military? Describe the time.

The lasting message of
Ever After
deals with love and sacrifice. Explain how those two are intertwined, and how they model the greatest sacrifice of all — the one Christ made on the cross.

Tell about a soldier in your family or circle of friends. What price did he or she pay in the fight for freedom?

What can you do to support the troops in your area? How can you involve your family or church, your friends or coworkers?

Read this sample chapter from Karen Kingsbury’s
One Tuesday Morning.

S
EPTEMBER
2, 2001

There were too many funerals.

Jamie Bryan locked eyes on the casket anchored atop a specially fitted slow-moving New York City fire truck, and that was her only thought. Too many funerals. So many that this one—like those before it—was steeped in tradition: the haunting refrains from fifty bagpipes, the white-gloved salute, the lone bugler sounding taps, the helicopter passing over head. Jamie knew the routine well. Hundreds of dignitaries and several thousand uniformed firefighters lined Fifth Avenue outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the same way they’d done five times already that year.

A sad melody lifted from the bagpipes and mingled with the early September wind.

“I hate this,” she whispered without moving.

Her husband stood a few inches away, tall and proud, his blue uniform pressed crisp, right hand sharply at attention near his brow. He squeezed her hand. No words came, no response to her statement. What could he say? Funerals were part of the job. Sometimes ten a year, sometimes twenty. This year was the lightest yet. Only six so far—six men like Jake who went to work for the FDNY one morning and never came home.

The funeral music swelled, and Jamie Bryan could feel the walls, feel them growing and building within her. The first bricks had been with her since the beginning, back when she first considered marrying a New York City firefighter.

Back when she and Jake Bryan were just twelve years old.

“I’m never leaving New York City.” They’d been playing tag with neighbor kids outside his house one day that summer. Everyone else had gone in for dinner. “I’ll be FDNY like my daddy.” Certainty shone from his eyes as they made their way onto his front lawn. “Puttin’ out fires and savin’ people.”

“That’s fine for you.” She’d dropped to the ground and leaned back on her elbows. “When I grow up I’m gonna live in France.” She stared at the hazy humid New York sky. “Artists live there.”

“Oh yeah?” Jake flopped down beside her. “Before or after you marry me?”

She lowered her chin to her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. “What makes you think I’d marry you, Jake Bryan?”

“Because …” He twisted his baseball cap and shot her a grin. “You love me. And you always will.”

That had been it, really. They didn’t date until high school, but after that summer Jake Bryan had been the only boy for her.

“What do you see in him?” Her father peered at her over the top of his newspaper the day after her eighteenth birthday. “He’ll never be rich.”

Jamie had rolled her eyes. “Money isn’t everything, Daddy.”

“But security is.” Her father let the newspaper fall to the table. “You’ll get neither from Jake.”

Anger had flashed like lightning across Jamie’s heart. “How can you say that?”

“Because.” Her father had rested his forearms on the table, his expression softer. “It’s a tough job, fighting fires in New York City. The danger’s always there, Jamie, as close as the next call.” He gestured in the direction of Jake’s house. “Look at his mother. She lives with the danger every day. It’s in her eyes, part of who she is. That’ll be you one day if you marry Jake Bryan.”

Her father and Jake’s were both Staten Island men, hardworking New Yorkers who made the commute to Manhattan every day. But the similarities stopped there. Jake’s father, Jim, was a fireman, a chaplain who always had something to say about God or the importance of faith.

“What good thing has the Lord done for you today, Jamie?” he’d ask, grinning at her with piercing blue eyes that would light up the room.

Jamie was never sure how to answer the man. She had no practice at giving God credit for the good things in life. Small wonder, really. Her father, Henry Steele, was an investment banker who had built a small financial empire with nothing more than brains, determination, and self-reliance. At least that was his explanation.

Their family had lived in the same house where Jake and Jamie and their daughter, Sierra, lived today. In an elite section of Westerleigh, not far from the Staten Island Expressway and the ferry ramps. The sprawling two-story colonial had a finished basement and a built-in pool in the backyard. Back then Jamie and her sister had been friends, just two years apart and living the charmed life of summer beach parties and winter vacations in the Florida Keys.

All of it compliments of Henry Steele’s hard work and ingenuity.

God got no credit at all.

“A man doesn’t need anyone but himself,” he would tell Jamie and her sister. “Religion is a sign of weakness.” Then he’d shoot a pointed look at Jamie. “Of course, when a person fights fires in New York City, faith might be a necessity.”

And so Jamie waited month after month for something terrible to happen to Jake’s father. But in the end it had been Jamie’s father, not Jake’s, who died the tragic death. One evening when her parents were driving home from the ferry, her father lost control at the wheel, careened off the road, and wrapped their car around a telephone pole. By the time paramedics arrived at the scene, both her parents were dead. Jamie was twenty that year, her sister, eighteen.

Their parents carried a million dollars’ life insurance each, and a lawyer helped the girls work out an agreement. Jamie got the family house; Kara got a full ride to Florida State University and stocks. They were both given enough savings to last a lifetime, but no amount of money could stop the arguments that developed over the next few years. An ocean of differences lay between them now. It had been five years since they’d spoken to each other.

Three years after the death of her parents, Jamie remembered her father’s warning about Jake’s job as she stood by and watched him graduate with his fire science degree. Weeks later he was hired by the New York Fire Department. The next summer Jake and Jamie married and honeymooned on a Caribbean cruise, and since then Jamie hadn’t been more than a hundred miles from the East Coast.

But she no longer wanted to travel the world. Sights from a dozen exotic countries could never rival the pleasure she felt simply loving Jake Bryan.

“You don’t have to work, you know …” Jamie had mentioned the fact to Jake just once—a month before his first shift with FDNY. “We have enough money.” Jake had bristled in a way she hadn’t seen him do before or since.

“Listen. Fighting fires in New York City is part of who I am, Jamie. Deep inside me.” His eyes held a hard glint. “It’s not about the money.”

The bagpipes stopped, and a sad silence hung in the air.

A bugle cry pierced the quiet morning, and the lonely sound of taps filled the street. Jamie stared at the coffin again. The dead man had been a proby, a probational firefighter still serving his first year with the department. This time deadly smoke, fiery flames, and falling ceiling beams weren’t responsible.

The man’s engine company had simply responded to an auto shop on fire. For several minutes the proby worked a massive hose reel at the side of the engine, then he climbed back into the cab. His buddies found him not long afterwards, slumped forward, dead of a heart attack at twenty-seven years old. Just five months after graduating top of his class.

He was the fourth fireman to suffer a fatal heart attack in ten months.

The bugle rang out its last note, and in very little time, the sea of blue began to break up. Jamie and Jake held hands as they made their way back to his pickup truck and headed home to Sierra.

Sierra
…

The image of their four-year-old daughter filled Jamie’s heart and for a moment dimmed the deep ache there. Sierra had Jake’s blue eyes and Jamie’s trademark dimples. No one knew where Sierra had gotten her blonde silky hair, but she was a beauty, inside and out. Days like this, Jamie could hardly wait to hold her, to soak in the warmth and hope of her precious laugh. The girl had held both their hearts captive since the day she was born.

Jamie stared out the truck window.

Manhattan smelled of warm bistros and cabbie exhaust fumes. It didn’t have a downtime. The sidewalks teemed with people as much now as they would on a weekday. She keyed on a couple about the same age as she and Jake, dressed for business, walking briskly toward some lower Manhattan destination. The two exchanged a smile, and for a fraction of a second, Jamie wondered,
Do they know about the dead fireman? Do they spend time pondering the fact that men like Jake are willing to die for their safety?

Jamie shifted and slipped her hand into Jake’s.
Of course they don’t. Unless they know a firefighter or police officer, unless they regu
larly attend the funerals, why would they?
She leaned back in her seat and looked at Jake. The silence between them was heavy, and words didn’t come until they hit the ferry docks.

“When’s the last time you had your heart checked?”

Jake glanced at her. “What?”