On Every Side (33 page)

That was all she needed to say. Cheri's eyes danced, and Faith could see she was grateful to be part of Faith's plans to outdo Bethany's enemy “Two separate files, right? One for each of them?”

Faith nodded. “Right.”

“Okay wait here.” She cast a glance at the workers stationed on either side of her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I'll see what I can find.”

Cheri disappeared, and Jordan was immediately at her side. “You asked for both?” He kept his gaze fixed on the voting brochure still in his hands but she could hear the disbelief and gratitude in his voice.

“Can't hurt.” She nodded toward a counter with other pam-phlets and information. “Keep busy. The last thing I want is her recognizing you.”

Several minutes went by before Cheri returned. She had two folders tucked under her right arm. She approached the counter with a forced air of nonchalance and slipped them over to Faith as quickly as she could. “Twenty minutes, Faith.” She gave Faith a wink. “The supervisor'll be back after that, and I need them put away She'd have my head on a platter if she found out what I was doing.”

“Thanks.” Faith swept the folders up against her body and turned to leave. She didn't check to see if Jordan was behind her, but she could feel him there, a few steps back. As she made her way back outside she kept her face focused on the ground ahead of her. Now that she had the files, she wanted to avoid being rec-ognized. Two minutes later she and Jordan were back in his car.

Jordan's features were pale. “I can't believe it was so easy. I've tried getting my hands on Heidi's file every year since I was twenty-two.”

“Drive to the back of the side lot. No one parks there.” Faith kept the files tightly on her lap while Jordan did as she said.

When they'd found a spot far from other cars, Jordan turned to her, his eyes filled with wonder. “No matter what these files contain… you'll never know how much this means to me, Faith.”

She could feel her heart getting sucked into the moment and she steeled herself, giving him only a quick smile and pushing the folders into his hands. “Read them. We have less than twenty minutes.”

Jordan looked at his file first. There were several entries beginning with the report from what appeared to be a neighbor. It stated that Jordan and Heidi were living alone after the death of their mother. He'd always wondered who'd reported them, but
the man's name didn't look familiar. It didn't matter. The neigh-bor wasn't to blame; certainly he'd had good intentions. State officials would have figured it out eventually.

Jordan scanned the pages as quickly as he could, flipping past the report detailing the day Jordan and Heidi were brought into care and the one that came a few days later:
“Jordan is a very unhappy boy He talks about his sister constantly and threatens to run away He appears to he a troublemaker”
For a brief instant, Jordan wanted to cry for the boy he'd been and the way the state officials had wrongly labeled him. There hadn't been a trace of trouble-maker in him. Just a brokenhearted boy who had promised his dying mother he'd take care of his sister.

He flipped a few more pages and saw the entry when he'd finally made good on his threat to run away from the temporary foster home:
“Police say Jordan was belligerent and borderline vio-lent. He kept insisting that his sister lived nearby and she needed him. Social worker says the girl is adjusting fine and that a visit will be arranged sometime in the next two weeks.”

“Anything good?” Faith's voice brought him back to reality, and Jordan shook his head. He'd almost forgotten she was still in the car.

“Not yet.”

“Fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Okay” He skipped a few entries and found the one marked Accident Report. The hairs on his arms stood up as he searched the tiny fields of information looking for a sign, something to confirm that his condition had been wrongly reported. Finally, at the bottom of the document, he found what he was looking for. In a section marked Condition of Child was written one word: Deceased.

Deceased… deceased… deceased…

Jordan's eyes moved over the word again and again until he
felt sick to his stomach. A note was attached after the report:
“Collapsed cave accident claimed the lives of numerous boys at the camp includingjordan Riley. State to investigate. Case closed”

It was the last notation in the file.

“It's right here…” He pointed to the sheet and angled it so Faith could read the important parts. ‘They…they think I'm dead.”

Faith stared at the report, her face a mask of concern. “Your active file must be in New Jersey.” She sighed. “That happens sometimes. The system has too many files and when someone gets something wrong—especially if the subject moves out of state—sometimes the error is never found.”

Jordan stared at the entry and his hands began to tremble. The real answers lay in the other folder—Heidi's file. He closed his own and handed it back to Faith. Then he did what he'd wanted to do for sixteen years—open the document that would give him a window to Heidi's other life, the one she had lived since that awful afternoon when the state worker took her away.

He drew a steadying breath and began reading. The reports were arranged in chronological order, stapled to the inside so that they could be read correctly He saw entries similar to those in his file—a report from the neighbor stating that a brother and sister were living alone, the report when she was taken into custody, and a report from the first foster home where she'd been taken. Jordan read every word, soaking it in, desperate to know what had happened to her.

“Heidi is very cooperative. She is sad about the loss of her mother and talks of wanting to see her brother. But she has made great strides in getting along with her foster family She is agreeable and despite her age would make an excellent candidate for adoption. “

She was always such a good girl. Of course she'd been com-pliant. She'd been promised a reunion with Jordan, guaranteed
that the two of them would be together again. She'd probably fig-ured it would happen faster if she got $long with her foster par-ents. Tears burned at Jordan's eyes and he blinked them back. He had no patience for blurred vision. Not now when he needed to see every stroke of the pen.

He scanned over three more similar reports and found one that coincided with the date he'd been sent to the boys’ camp:
“Hddis brother, Jordan Riley, was caught after running away from his foster home. He is considered unstable and a threat to his sisters secu-rity. He has been placed at Southridge Boys’ Camp until further notice. This worker no longer recommends that Jordan have scheduled visits with his sister.’

Jordan gritted his teeth as a tear landed squarely on the report. How
dare
a stranger make a recommendation like that? What did a social worker know about Jordan or the relationship he and Heidi shared? He wished he could find the man today… he'd grab him by the collar and—

Jordan dismissed the thought. There wasn't time to waste hating people who no longer existed. This was about Heidi and him and no one else. He flipped the page and saw an entry marked Special Report. His heart thudded in his chest as he let his eyes work their way down the page. The report detailed how Heidi had been given the news that her brother had been in an acci-dent at Southridge Boys’ Camp:
“Hddi cued for several hours and ashed if she could go to the hospital to see her brother. At this time Jordan Riley's status
—
whether he survived the accident or not
—
is unclear.”

Jordan turned the page, barely aware that he was holding his breath. The next page told him all he needed to know. It was another special report and it indicated that Heidi had been told the news: Her brother had been killed in a collapsed cave inci-dent at Southridge Boys’ Camp.
“Hddi is very upset and had to be
sedated in order to sleep. State worker recommends extended counseling to deal with issues of grief and loss.”

The words seared Jordan's heart like a branding iron, filling in the places that had only been chasms of darkness and uncer-tainty So it was true after all; so soon after losing their mother Heidi had been forced to deal with Jordan's death as well. Tears coursed down Jordan's face and he let his head hang for a moment. When he looked up again, he showed the report to Faith.

She read it and then looked up at him, her eyes wet too. “Jordan, it's awful. All this time—” She reached for his hand, much the way a friend might reach out in the face of bad news.” No wonder she hasn't looked for you.”

The missing pieces of his past were filling in quickly, but still there was a part Jordan wanted. “How much time?”

“Seven minutes.”

Jordan nodded and flipped quickly through the reports, scan-ning the entries describing how well Heidi was responding to counseling, how she appeared to be bonding with her social worker, and how a placement had been suggested. Then abruptly he was at the last entry:
“Transfer was made to a permanent foster-adopt home. State workers believe Heidi will make d complete and successful adjustment and that adoption will be completed within the year”
In the place designated for the adoptive parents’ names, there was just one word scribbled:

Morand.

“Morand?” Jordan practically shouted the word. He closed the file and smacked it against his thigh. “How is
that
supposed to help me find her?”

Faith squeezed his hand, released it, and folded her fingers together in her lap once more. “It isn't much to go on.”

Jordan turned to the back of the file and scanned the last
entry one more time. “No address, no phone number. For all I know they live at the other end of the state or halfway across the world.” Frustration grabbed him like a vise grip and he felt like he was suffocating under a blanket-sized piece of plastic wrap. “That was fifteen years ago. There's no way I could find her now.”

For all the answers the files provided, in some ways it was worse for Jordan than if he'd never seen them at all because now there truly was no hope. Heidi was gone from his life forever. Another wave of tears came, and he closed his eyes. Without warning, his mother's voice came back to him.
“Pray, Jordan… don't ever stop praying… don't ever stop praying.”

“Jordan—” Faith's voice interrupted his memories— “I know you don't believe in what I'm about to do, but it's all I know.”

He opened his eyes and watched her bow her head, her heart and mind focused on a God he'd spent half his life fighting against. How had she known what he was thinking? That his mother's dying words on prayer had been rattling through his mind?

“Lord, we're out of options. You know Jordan's heart…the loss he's already suffered.”

She paused, as though searching for the right words. The idea of Faith praying when it could not possibly do any good reminded Jordan of his mother again, her unwavering beliefs even on her deathbed.

Faith's voice rose a notch. “We have nowhere to turn now, no way to find Jordan's sister. Please, Father, bring them back together. I don't know how You're going to do it, Lord, but right here… right now… I thank You for what miracle You're working in this. No matter what happens, God, I trust You. And I'll always love you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

She opened her eyes, and the light he saw there was too much for him. He shifted his attention to the folder in his hands.

“I appreciate what you're trying to do, Faith, but there's no point.”

Faith sighed hard and leaned back against the headrest, her eyes fixed somewhere on the ceiling of Jordan's car. “I don't understand why your mother died, Jordan. Or why Heidi was told you were killed in the accident. But I know the God I believe in is real.” She was crying now, and the gentleness of a moment earlier was replaced by something Jordan couldn't quite identify. Anger maybe, or a deep, unquenchable fear. She stared at him, her eyes begging him to understand. “If I'm wrong about God, if your mom was wrong… what have we lost?” She let her question sink in. “Butif you're wrong, Jordan…”

There was no need to finish her statement; he'd heard it before both from high school and college acquaintances, and always he'd had an answer for them:
“I'd rather live a truth that was doomed than a life of hope based on lies.”

This time, though, the words wouldn't come. It was as though the combination of reading about Heidi and remembering his mother while sharing the intimate space of his car's front seat with Faith was too much for him. He handed Heidi's file back to Faith and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Then he looked at Faith and said the only thing he could think to say.

“Let's get the files back.”

O
n the surface there wasn't any reason why Joshua Nunn should think the phone call strange. After all, Faith was at the center of one of the most fascinating religious rights cases ever. In fact, it wasn't so much the type of call or even the caller's voice that stuck with Joshua hours later.

It was the timing.

He'd been having a midday quiet time with God, alone in his office, wondering what more he could possibly do to convince the judge that a ten-foot high wall was unreasonable. The Scripture that day was from the book of Joshua, and it confirmed everything the Lord had been laying on his heart since he'd first heard about the case: “Be strong and courageous. God will go before you. You will not have to fight this battle…the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

The verses all seemed to run together, lifting Joshua and taking away his fear. He had no idea how God was going to pull off a victory, but he believed with all his heart that somehow the Lord would come out a winner. Even if it didn't look that way to the public.

That afternoon he'd felt compelled to pray for wisdom. Like he'd done so many times in his life, he slid to his knees, closed his eyes, and raised his hands as high toward heaven as he could. “Lord, show me the way. Ive done all I can do and still HOUR has the advantage. If there's something I'm missing, some way that victory might belong to You, Your people, show me now, Lord. I'm almost otit of t—”